“We’ll need a lot of burdock root,” she mewed. “It’s a good thing Petal and I found a good supply the other day.”
“And cobwebs,” Sandstorm added. Her gaze traveled over the cats who had just arrived, and locked for a heartbeat with Firestar’s eyes before she asked, “Which of you is hurt worst?”
Firestar pushed Clovertail forward. “Where’s Patchfoot?”
“He went out to fight,” Sandstorm replied. “We realized there were rats coming up the river only when a couple of them tried to get in here. Patchfoot and I attacked them, but there were swarms of them outside. We got separated in the darkness and I haven’t seen him since.”
Firestar tried not to let the alarm show in his eyes.
Patchfoot would have been in more danger than the other warriors because he didn’t have his full strength yet. And what about the two apprentices?
Bracing himself against his bone-numbing weariness, he headed out of the cave to look for them. But when he reached the entrance, he spotted movement among the rocks, and a moment later all three cats appeared, Patchfoot and Sparrowpaw supporting Cherrypaw between them. Blood was flowing from a wound in her neck.
“What happened?” Firestar asked.
“The rats trapped us in our den,” Sparrowpaw explained.
“We didn’t have room to use our fighting moves properly. I think we’d have been in real trouble if Patchfoot hadn’t come to help.”
“We killed lots of them, though,” Cherrypaw rasped, raising her head.
Her Clanmates helped her into Echosong’s cave, where she flopped to the ground and closed her eyes. Sandstorm hurried over and started to lick the wound clean. After a moment, glancing up at Firestar, she meowed, “I don’t think it’s too bad. She’ll live.”
“Course I’ll live,” Cherrypaw muttered without opening her eyes. “I’m going to kill more rats.”
“That leaves only Shortwhisker unaccounted for,” Firestar mewed. “Did any cat see him?”
“Not after the battle started,” Sharpclaw replied.
“I’ll go and look, if you like,” Leafdapple offered. “Though it might be better to wait until dawn. It can’t be far off.”
“I think you’re right,” Firestar began, reluctant to let any cat go wandering about in the darkness. They couldn’t be sure that the danger from the rats was over. “We’ll both go when—”
He was interrupted by a plaintive cry from outside. “Hi! Is any cat there?”
“Shortwhisker!” Sandstorm exclaimed.
Full of relief, Firestar went to the cave entrance again. The first pale trace of dawn had begun to appear in the sky. By its light, he could see Shortwhisker hauling himself up from the river, looking as if he was almost too exhausted to put one paw in front of the other.
“Over here!” Firestar called.
Shortwhisker raised his head and quickened his pace a little. Firestar studied him as he drew closer. He had clumps of fur torn off both shoulders, and the marks of rats’ claws stretched along one flank, but apart from that he seemed okay.
“It’s good to see you.” Firestar touched noses with him as he reached the cave. “That’s every cat. And none of us is seriously hurt, thank StarClan.”
“I thought I was crow-food for sure.” Shortwhisker’s eyes were wide with fear. “Three of them drove me into a tiny cave. All I could do was try to keep them off. Then suddenly they turned and vanished.”
Firestar nodded. Trapping the cats in confined spaces where they couldn’t defend themselves had obviously been part of the rats’ strategy. Even if the rats’ leader hadn’t joined in the attack himself, his clever, controlling mind was behind it.
Gesturing with his tail for Shortwhisker to enter the cave ahead of him, Firestar gazed around at the Clan. Echosong had finished with Clovertail and was examining Patchfoot’s old wound, while Sandstorm tended to Cherrypaw. The rest of the cats were lying close together, licking one another’s scratches. All of them looked exhausted.
Sparrowpaw raised his head. “We didn’t win, did we? The rats chose to stop fighting.”
“That’s true,” Firestar replied. “But we didn’t lose either.
And the battle’s not over yet. We’re not waiting for them any longer. We must take the fight to them.”
Sharpclaw pricked his ears. “Is that wise?”
Firestar realized that the fight had taught Sharpclaw cau-tion. “We don’t want the rats to have the advantage of planning the next attack. There won’t be so many places to trap cats outside the barn. The time is right.”
A murmur of agreement came from the rest of the Clan.
“I’m coming with you,” Patchfoot announced. “I fought tonight. No cat can say I’m not fit enough.”
“And me.” Clovertail lashed her tail. “Petal can look after the kits.”
Firestar felt humbled by their courage: Patchfoot, whose wound would have given him the excuse to stay behind in safety; Clovertail, who was ready to fight not only for her kits but for her Clan; Shortwhisker, who was terrified but determined to overcome his fear. All of them had given up their old lives to make the dream of SkyClan a reality—and they had succeeded. The warrior code lived on in the gorge.
Sharpclaw rose to his paws. “Then we’ll go tomorrow night, once the Twolegs are back in their nests,” he meowed.
“And let’s hope there’s a moon. I like an enemy I can see.”
The Clan yowled in approval of his words. Sharpclaw would make a good leader, Firestar thought. He met the ginger tom’s gaze; there was a challenge there, almost as if the same thought was going through Sharpclaw’s mind too.
But something held Firestar back from offering him the leadership. He still felt it wasn’t his choice to make. And while Sharpclaw would be superb at leading his warriors into battle, Firestar wasn’t sure he appreciated everything that being Clan leader meant.
It’s in the paws of his warrior ancestors, he told himself. And after tomorrow, who knows whether there will be a Clan left to lead?
The Clan rested during the morning, but they were awake by sunhigh, gathering in the training area for a last session to hone their battle skills. Firestar felt fresh energy running through his limbs as he practiced fighting moves with Rainfur: this was what he had been trained to do, even if this time he wasn’t fighting for his own Clan. Looking at the determined faces around him, watching the expert use of teeth and claws, he knew that SkyClan wouldn’t be driven from the gorge a second time. The descendants of the first Clan had returned, and they would fight to their last breath for the right to live here.
Sandstorm was drawing the training session to an end when Echosong and Petal came padding up the gorge, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“We’ve collected a whole pile of burdock root,” Petal announced proudly.
“And poppyseed,” Echosong added. “Sandstorm, you said it’s good for pain, but I didn’t know where to find it before.”
“My old Twoleg has poppies in his garden,” Petal explained.
“I hope you didn’t have any trouble with the Twoleg,” Firestar meowed.
Petal flicked her tail dismissively. “He came out of the nest and yowled a bit, but he couldn’t catch us.”
Firestar couldn’t bring himself to warn her about taking risks. There would be wounded warriors after the battle who would be glad of the relief poppyseeds would give them.
Echosong’s eyes were brimming with amusement.
“Clovertail sent her kits to look for cobwebs,” she reported.
“You’ve never seen so many—all over the kits! They worked really hard.”
“It’s time they were apprenticed,” mewed Sandstorm.
“Soon,” Firestar agreed. His heart was warmed by the thought of a future for the Clan. SkyClan had so much to lose—but so much to win as well!