Fireheart narrowed his eyes. He knew that Bluestar was gently reminding Nightpelt of the debt he owed to ThunderClan.
The ShadowClan leader half-closed his eyes. After a silence that felt like an age, Nightpelt opened his eyes wide and meowed, “Very well, Bluestar. We will allow WindClan to return.” Fireheart saw Crookedstar turn his head away in anger, his eyes black slits.
Bluestar nodded. “Two of us have agreed, Crookedstar,” she meowed. “WindClan must be found and brought home. Until then, no Clan should hunt in their territory.”
The Gathering began to break up as the cats prepared to travel back to their camps. Fireheart stayed where he was for a moment, watching the leaders on the Great Rock. Bluestar touched noses with Crookedstar and jumped down to the forest floor. On the rock, Crookedstar turned to Nightpelt. There was something about the look that passed between them that made Fireheart’s fur prickle. Could it be that Bluestar did not really have Nightpelt’s support after all? Fireheart looked quickly around. He could tell from the anger in Tigerclaw’s eyes that ThunderClan’s deputy had not missed this exchange either.
For once, Fireheart shared Tigerclaw’s concern. This was a shift in Clan alliances he had not expected. After the risk ThunderClan had taken by helping ShadowClan to drive out Brokenstar, how could they side with RiverClan now?
Chapter 3
Bluestar led the way swiftly back to camp. The noise of their return awoke the cats who had remained behind. As the group streamed through the gorse entrance, sleepy figures began emerging from the dens.
“What’s the news?” called Halftail.
“Were ShadowClan there?” asked Willowpelt.
“Yes, they were,” Bluestar replied gravely. She strode past Willowpelt and leaped up onto Highrock. There was no need for her customary call for a Clan meeting—the cats were already gathering below the rock. Tigerclaw jumped up beside her.
“There was much tension between the Clans tonight,” Bluestar began. “And I became aware of a possible new allegiance between Crookedstar and Nightpelt.”
Graystripe squeezed into the small space next to Fireheart. “What are they talking about?” he asked. “I thought Nightpelt agreed with Bluestar.”
“Nightpelt?” croaked One-eye’s ancient voice from the back of the crowd.
“He has been named as ShadowClan’s new leader,” Bluestar explained.
“But his name—hasn’t he been accepted by StarClan yet?” asked One-eye.
“He plans to travel to the Moonstone tomorrow night,” Tigerclaw told him.
“No leader can speak for their Clan at a Gathering without receiving StarClan’s approval first,” muttered One-eye, loudly enough for all the cats to hear.
“He has the support of ShadowClan, One-eye,” answered Bluestar, nodding at the old she-cat. “We cannot ignore what he said tonight.” One-eye gave a disgruntled sniff, and Bluestar lifted her head to address the whole Clan. “At the Gathering, I suggested we find WindClan and bring them home. But Crookedstar and Nightpelt don’t want them to return.”
“They’re hardly likely to join forces, though, are they?” called Graystripe. “They almost had a scrap over hunting rights in the river.”
Fireheart turned to his friend. “Didn’t you see the looks they were swapping by the end of the meeting? They’re both desperate to get their paws on WindClan’s territory.”
“But why?” asked Sandpaw, who was sitting beside her mentor, Whitestorm.
Whitestorm answered her. “I suspect ShadowClan is not as weak as we thought they would be. And Nightpelt seems to have more ambition than any cat expected.”
“But why does RiverClan want to hunt WindClan’s grounds? They have always grown fat on the fish from their precious river!” yowled Willowpelt. “The uplands are a long way to go for a few windblown rabbits!”
The once-beautiful queen, Dappletail, spoke up in a voice cracked with age. “At the Gathering, some of the RiverClan elders spoke of Twolegs taking over part of their river.”
“That’s right,” added Frostfur. “They say Twolegs have been living in shelters beside the river, disturbing the fish. The RiverClan cats have had to hide in the bushes and watch them with empty stomachs!”
Bluestar looked thoughtful. “For now, we must be careful to do nothing that may bring ShadowClan and RiverClan closer together. Go and rest now. Runningwind and Dustpaw, you will take the dawn patrol.”
A cold breeze rattled the dying leaves in the trees overhead. The cats, still murmuring amongst themselves, went to their dens.
For the second night in a row, Fireheart dreamed. He was standing in the dark. The roar and the stench of a Thunderpath was very close by. Fireheart felt himself buffeted and blinded by the monsters that roared up and down with glaring eyes. Suddenly, through the din, Fireheart heard the pitiful cry of a young cat. The desperate wail sliced through the thundering of the monsters.
Fireheart awoke with a start. For a moment he thought that the cry had woken him. But the only noise was the muffled snores of warriors sleeping beside him. A growl came from somewhere near the middle of the den. It sounded like Tigerclaw. Fireheart felt too unsettled to go back to sleep, so he crept silently out of the den.
It was dark outside, and the stars dotting the black sky told him dawn was still far off. With the wail of the young cat echoing in his mind, Fireheart padded over to the nursery, his ears pricked. He could hear pawsteps beyond the camp wall. He sniffed the air. It was just Darkstripe and Longtail. Fireheart picked up their scents as they guarded ThunderClan’s territory.
The calm of the sleeping camp soothed Fireheart. Every cat must have nightmares about the Thunderpath, he told himself. He crept back into the den and circled comfortably back into his nest. Graystripe purred briefly in his sleep as Fireheart settled beside him and closed his eyes.
Graystripe’s nose woke him, prodding his side. “Leave me alone,” Fireheart grumbled.
“Wake up!” Graystripe hissed.
“Why? We’re not on patrol!” Fireheart complained.
“Bluestar wants to see us in her den, now.”
Fuzzy-headed, Fireheart scrambled to his paws and followed Graystripe out of the den. The sun was beginning to turn the sky pink, and there was frost on the trees around the camp.
The two cats bounded across the clearing to Bluestar’s den and announced their arrival with hushed mews.
“Enter!” It was Tigerclaw’s voice that answered from behind the draped lichen. Alarm swept through Fireheart as he remembered his conversation with Bluestar on the way to the Gathering. Had she told Tigerclaw about his accusations? Graystripe pushed his way into Bluestar’s den. Fireheart followed him uneasily.
Bluestar was sitting in her nest, her head up and her eyes bright. Tigerclaw stood in the middle of the smooth sandstone floor. Fireheart tried to read his expression, but the great tabby’s eyes were as cold and steady as always.
Bluestar began at once. “Fireheart, Graystripe, I have an important mission for you.”
“A mission?” Fireheart echoed. Relief and excitement swept away his anxiety.
“I want you to find WindClan and bring them back to their territory,” announced Bluestar.
“Before you get too excited, bear in mind this could be very dangerous,” Tigerclaw growled. “We don’t know where WindClan has gone, so you will have to follow what is left of their scent–probably into hostile territory.”
“But you’ve been through WindClan territory, when you traveled with me to the Moonstone,” Bluestar pointed out. “Their scent will be familiar, as will the Twoleg territory beyond the uplands.”