Firestar followed and found himself behind bushes in another Twoleg garden. Night had fallen; yellow light poured from a single square hole in the wall of the Twoleg nest.
“This was the place,” Shorty murmured. “The young Twolegs live here. They caught your friend by that grass over there.”
He flicked his tail toward a clump of long grass in the middle of the garden. The stems rose for three or four tail-lengths, with plumy tops that glimmered yellow in the strange light. Keeping a cautious eye on the nest, Firestar crept into the open until he reached the clump.
He closed his eyes to concentrate better, and drew in air over his scent glands. The powerful scent of Twoleg flowers almost swamped everything else, but Firestar could distinguish the scent of Twolegs, several different kinds of prey, and… yes! Very faint, and growing stale, but still recognizable.
“Sandstorm!” he breathed. “She was here. She’s alive!”
Thank StarClan! he thought.
Shorty bounded up to him. “Any luck?”
“Yes—yes, it’s her. Which way did she go?”
Shorty pointed the stump of his tail toward the opposite fence. “Over there, into the next garden.”
Firestar raced across the grass to the fence; to his surprise Shorty kept pace with him. “You don’t have to come with me,” Firestar meowed.
Shorty flicked his ears. “That’s okay. I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind. Snowy’s bound to ask me if we found your friend.”
“Thanks,” mewed Firestar. Though he didn’t say so to Shorty, he was surprised that the rogues were being so helpful. He had been too quick to assume they would be his enemies.
The two cats scrambled over the next fence. Firestar thought he caught another trace of Sandstorm’s scent among the clumps of flowers, but the Twoleg scents were very strong here, and there was a powerful aroma of dog. His neck fur lifted when he heard it barking from the nest.
“I’ve lost her trail,” he told Shorty, padding up and down in frustration.
“Let’s follow the fence,” the tabby tom suggested. “We might pick up the spot where she left.”
“Good idea.” Firestar slipped along the bottom of the fence, concealed from the Twoleg nest by thick shrubs, but there were no other signs that Sandstorm had been there, not even the imprint of a paw in the soil. He wished he had Cloudtail with him; the white tom was the best tracker in ThunderClan.
StarClan help me! he prayed, gazing up at the glittering warriors of Silverpelt and wondering if they could see him when he was so far away from the forest.
As he lifted his head, a tuft of fur snagged on the top of the fence caught his eye, and he made out the pale ginger of Sandstorm’s pelt.
He pointed with his tail. “That’s where she crossed the fence. Come on, Shorty!”
But the tabby rogue was looking uneasy, his claws working in the thick leaf mold under the bushes. “There’s a kittypet over there,” he meowed. “She’s a good fighter, and… well, a bit short-tempered.”
Firestar couldn’t believe that any kittypet could fight well enough to give him trouble. “I can handle it,” he promised.
He leaped for the fence, clawed his way to the top, and gave the tuft of fur a quick sniff. Sandstorm’s scent flooded over him. The garden below him was overgrown with shrubs and a wild tangle of Twoleg flowers. Trees spread their branches over it, casting deep shadows. Firestar’s paws tingled. This garden was almost like the forest; it was just the sort of place where his mate might hide.
“Sandstorm!” he called softly. “Sandstorm, are you there?”
There was no reply. Firestar dropped down into the garden and prowled through the undergrowth, his nose filled with the scents of leaves and flowers and other cats. He had lost Sandstorm’s scent again, but he was sure she had to be close by. “Sandstorm!” he called again.
Just behind him a snarl broke the silence. Firestar whirled to see a tortoiseshell kittypet standing a tail-length away. Her back was arched and her teeth bared; her fur bristled, and her quivering tail was fluffed up to twice its size.
“What are you doing in my garden?” she spat.
Firestar gulped; obviously not all kittypets were lazy about defending their territory. “Look, keep your fur on,” he began.
“I’m only—”
He broke off as the tortoiseshell leaped on him, hissing with rage, and bowled him off his paws.
“Shorty!” he yowled.
He battered at the tortoiseshell with his hind paws, but he still didn’t have his full strength, and he couldn’t throw her off. His side stung as she raked her claws down it.
“Trespasser!” she hissed in his ear.
Firestar struggled to bring his head around and sink his teeth into her neck. Then from somewhere close by he heard the furious yowl of another cat. Suddenly the tortoiseshell’s weight vanished. Firestar lay limp on the ground for a couple of heartbeats, thankful that Shorty had come to his rescue.
Then he looked up and scrambled to his paws with a gasp of amazement. The newcomer wasn’t Shorty at all; it was Sandstorm! The ginger she-cat had flung the tortoiseshell to the ground; she jabbed her hind paws into the kittypet’s belly and fastened her teeth into her ear. The kittypet fought furiously for a moment longer, then tore herself away and fled toward the Twoleg nest.
“Sandstorm!” Firestar panted. He stood gazing at his mate; her sides were heaving, and blood welled from scratches on her shoulder.
“Think yourself lucky I turned up in time to save your pelt!” Sandstorm hissed.
“I didn’t ask you to!” Firestar flashed back. “I could have taken care of myself.”
Sandstorm’s lip curled disbelievingly. “Oh, sure.”
Firestar stared at her. This wasn’t how he had imagined his reunion with Sandstorm would be. “Listen—”
“Is everything okay?” Shorty interrupted; Firestar looked up to see his head popping up over the fence. “Hey! You found her!”
“No, I found him,” Sandstorm growled. She sounded as if she wished she hadn’t. “I’m surprised you even bothered to look for me,” she went on to Firestar, her green eyes glittering with hostility. “After all, what’s one Clanmate compared with all the nameless cats who are depending on you who knows where? Why didn’t you go on looking for them, instead?”
Firestar was too worn-out to quarrel with her any more.
Padding over to her, drinking in her warm, familiar scent, he murmured, “I would have searched for you forever. I would never have gone on without you.”
Sandstorm gazed at him for a long moment. “I meant it when I said I wanted to come on this journey,” she mewed.
“But I want to share your mission. I want to understand why you need to help this Clan, and play an equal part in finding them.”
“But StarClan sent the dream only to me—” Firestar began.
“That’s not true,” Sandstorm pointed out. “What about Smudge? This Clan must be desperate for help if they would try talking to a kittypet. Surely two cats are better than one?”
Firestar rested his muzzle against hers. He remembered how he had felt when he thought he had lost her forever.
Now he knew that he could never complete his journey without Sandstorm by his side.
“Excuse me for interrupting,” Shorty meowed from his perch on the fence, “but are you two going to stay down there all night?”
For a heartbeat Firestar met Sandstorm’s green gaze. So much passed between them that could never be put into words. Then he tore himself away.
“Sorry,” he mewed, leaping to the top of the fence to balance beside Shorty. “Can you show us the way out of here?”
“We need to get back to the river,” Sandstorm added as she joined them.