Fireheart padded toward the camp with a vole clamped firmly in his jaws. The sun shone from a brilliantly blue sky, and already, two days after his meeting with Princess, most of the snow was gone. Buds were swelling and a mist of tiny green leaves was beginning to cover the trees. More important, prey was reappearing in the forest. Already it was easier to replenish the pile of fresh-kill, and for the first time in moons the Clan was full-fed.
Fireheart arrived in the clearing to find the queens raking old bedding out of the nursery. When he had dropped his prey on the pile of fresh-kill, he went across to give them a hand, pleased to see that Cloudkit was helping too.
“I’m going to show the other kits the good moss place!” the kit mewed proudly as he staggered past with a load of bedding.
“Good idea,” Fireheart agreed. He’d noticed that even after Tigerclaw relieved him of his duties with the elders, Cloudkit had gone on helping. Maybe at last the kit was feeling some spark of loyalty toward his adopted Clan. “Watch out for badgers, though!”
Just then he saw Goldenflower emerge from the nursery, pushing a ball of soiled moss in front of her. Her belly was round with the weight of the kits she was carrying.
“Hello, Fireheart,” she meowed. “Isn’t it great to see the sun again?”
Fireheart gave the queen’s shoulder a friendly lick. “Soon it’ll be newleaf,” he mewed. “Just in time for your kits. If you—” He broke off and spun around as he heard Tigerclaw’s voice behind him, speaking his name.
“Fireheart, if you’ve nothing better to do than stand gossiping with the queens, I have a job for you.”
Fireheart bit back an angry response. He’d been hunting all morning, and paused for only a few moments to talk to Goldenflower.
“I want you to take a patrol along the border of RiverClan,” the deputy went on. “No cat has been that way for a few days, and now the snow has gone we need to renew the scent markings. And make sure no RiverClan cats are hunting in our territory. If they are, you know what to do!”
“Yes, Tigerclaw,” Fireheart mewed. Hedgehogs must be growing wings, he thought, if Tigerclaw had chosen him to lead a patrol! Then he realized that Tigerclaw was too clever to behave hostilely toward him in public. The deputy would be careful to treat him just the same as any other Clan warrior, in case Bluestar noticed.
But I still don’t trust you! Fireheart thought. Aloud he meowed, “Whom shall I take with me?”
“Any cat you like. Or do you need me to hold your paw?” Tigerclaw added with a sneer.
“No, Tigerclaw.” By now Fireheart could barely keep his tongue curbed; he would have loved to swipe a claw over the deputy’s scarred muzzle. He mewed a hasty good-bye to Goldenflower, and headed for the warriors’ den. Sandstorm was there, lying on her side and energetically washing, while Graystripe and Runningwind shared tongues nearby.
“Who’s up for a patrol?” Fireheart called. “Tigerclaw wants us to check the RiverClan border.”
Graystripe scrambled to his paws right away at the mention of RiverClan, while Runningwind got up more slowly. Sandstorm paused in her washing and looked up at Fireheart. “Just when I was hoping for a bit of peace,” she complained. “I’ve been hunting since dawn.” But her tone was good-humored, not remotely as unfriendly as she was when he had first arrived in the Clan, Fireheart thought, and almost at once she got up and shook herself. “All right,” she mewed. “Lead on.”
“What about Brackenpaw?” Fireheart asked Graystripe. “Do you want to bring him along?”
“Whitestorm and Mousefur took the apprentices out,” Runningwind explained. “All of the apprentices—more fool them! They’re hunting fresh-kill for the elders.”
Fireheart led the way out of the camp, feeling a tingle in his paws as he leaped up the side of the ravine. It felt like moons since he’d had a good run without snow to freeze his paws off, and he wanted to stretch his muscles. “We’ll head for the Sunningrocks,” he meowed, “and then follow the border up to Fourtrees.”
He set a brisk pace through the trees, but not so fast that he failed to notice the brilliant green fronds of new bracken beginning to unfurl, or the first pale buds of primroses pushing out of their green coverings. Birdsong filled the air, and the fresh scent of growing things.
He slowed down to a walk as the patrol approached the edge of the forest. Ahead of him he could hear the sound of the river, free at last from its bonds of ice. “We’re almost at the border,” he meowed quietly. “From here on we have to keep alert. There may be RiverClan cats about.”
Graystripe stopped and opened his jaws to drink in scent from the breeze. “I can’t smell any,” he reported. Fireheart wondered if he was disappointed that Silverstream wasn’t nearby. “Besides, they’ll have plenty of prey now that the river’s unfrozen,” Graystripe added. “Why should they come and steal ours?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past RiverClan,” growled Runningwind. “They’d steal the fur off your back if you didn’t keep an eye on them.”
Fireheart saw Graystripe beginning to bristle. “Come on, then,” he meowed hastily, trying to distract his friend before he said something that gave away his divided loyalties. “Let’s go.” He raced away through the last of the trees and burst out onto open ground. What he saw there brought him skidding to a halt, and the memory of his dream crashed into his mind like a thunderclap.
In front of the cats, the land sloped gently down to the river—or what had been the river. Swelled by the melting snow, the fast-flowing water had burst the banks and risen until it lapped the grass barely a rabbit-length from Fireheart’s paws. The tips of reeds just showed above it; farther upstream, the Sunningrocks were gray islands in the midst of a shimmering silver lake.
The thaw had certainly come, but now the river was in full flood.
Chapter 11
“Great StarClan!” breathed Sandstorm.
The other two cats grunted in agreement, but Fireheart was speechless with horror. He had instantly recognized the shining expanse of water, and now he recalled Spottedleaf’s ominous words: “Water can quench fire.”
Fear chilled him as he struggled to understand how this flood could threaten his Clan, so that he was hardly aware of Graystripe trying to attract his attention until the big gray cat pressed up close to his side. Panic flared in Graystripe’s amber eyes, and Fireheart didn’t need to ask why. His friend was afraid for Silverstream.
The land was lower on the RiverClan bank, so the floodwaters could spread much farther. As for the camp on the island…Fireheart wondered how much of that was underwater. He had grown to like Silverstream in spite of his concerns, and he felt a grudging respect for Mistyfoot and Graypool, too. He didn’t want to imagine them driven out of their camp, or worse, drowned.
Runningwind had padded right to the water’s edge and was gazing out across the river. “RiverClan isn’t going to like this,” he remarked. “And a good thing, too. It’ll keep them off our territory.”
Fireheart felt Graystripe tense at the note of satisfaction in Runningwind’s voice. He shot his friend a warning glance. “Well, we can’t patrol the border now,” he pointed out. “We’d better get back to camp and report this. Come on, Graystripe,” he added firmly, seeing the warrior look once more with anguish across the swollen river.
As soon as Bluestar heard the news she leaped to the top of the Highrock and gave the familiar calclass="underline" “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”
At once cats began to pour out of their dens and into the clearing. Fireheart took his place at the front of the crowd, noticing with a prickle of annoyance that Cloudkit had come bouncing along after Brindleface, although he was too young to attend the meeting. He saw Yellowfang and Cinderpaw listening from the mouth of the fern tunnel. Even Brokentail emerged from his den, nudged along by Mousefur.