“The water’s going down,” meowed Darkstripe. “But not fast enough. We patrolled as far as the Thunderpath, and there’s nowhere a cat could cross without swimming.”
“The stream’s narrower up there,” mewed Willowpelt. “Could we jump across?”
“Maybe, if you grew wings,” Darkstripe replied. “If all you’ve got is your own paws…”
“But that has to be the best place to try,” insisted Whitestorm.
Bluestar nodded. “We’ll start there,” she decided. “Maybe StarClan will lead us to a safe place.” She rose to her paws and led her cats quietly out of the camp.
The sun had gone down, and twilight blurred the shapes of the forest. In the distance an owl hooted, and Fireheart could hear the rustle of prey in the undergrowth, but the warriors were too intent on their journey to hunt. Bluestar took them straight through the trees to the place where the stream emerged from a hard stone tunnel underneath the Thunderpath. Their usual route to Fourtrees did not pass this close to the Thunderpath, and Fireheart wondered what his leader was planning to do. When they reached the tunnel, he saw that floodwater spread out on either side, reflecting the pale light of the rising moon. Water covered the Thunderpath as well, and as the cats watched they saw a monster pass by, moving slowly, throwing up a filthy wave from its round black paws.
Once the monster had disappeared into the distance, Bluestar led her cats to the water’s edge on the hard surface of the Thunderpath. She sniffed the water, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and cautiously put one paw into the flood. “It’s shallow enough here,” she meowed. “We can walk up the Thunderpath until we’re on the other side of the stream, and get to Fourtrees along the border with ShadowClan.”
Walk up the Thunderpath! Fireheart felt his coat begin to prickle with fear at the thought of deliberately following the tracks of the monsters. Cinderpaw’s accident had shown him what they could do to a cat, and she had only been at the edge.
“What if another monster comes?” asked Graystripe, voicing Fireheart’s fear.
“We will keep to the side,” Bluestar replied calmly. “You saw how slowly that monster was moving. Maybe they don’t like getting their paws wet.”
Fireheart saw that Graystripe still looked doubtful. He shared his friend’s worries, but there was no point in protesting any more. Tigerclaw would just berate them for being cowards.
“Bluestar, wait,” called Whitestorm as the Clan leader waded into the water. “Remember how low our territory is on the other side of this stream? I can’t help thinking it will be flooded there, too. I don’t think we’ll get to Fourtrees without going onto ShadowClan territory, which is higher.”
A cat close to Fireheart let out a faint hiss, and Fireheart felt another pang of fear. A band of warriors setting paw across the border of a Clan with which they had recently battled? If a patrol caught them, they would think it was an invasion.
Bluestar paused with water lapping over her paws, and looked back at Whitestorm. “Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but we’ll have to risk it, if it’s the only way.”
She set off again without giving her cats any time to protest. There was nothing to do but follow. Fireheart splashed along the edge of the Thunderpath just behind Whitestorm. Tigerclaw brought up the rear to keep a lookout for monsters coming up from behind.
At first everything was quiet, except for a single monster traveling in the other direction on the opposite side of the Thunderpath. Then Fireheart heard the familiar growling and the splash of an approaching monster.
“Look out!” Tigerclaw yowled from the end of the line.
Fireheart froze, pressing himself against the low wall that edged the Thunderpath as it crossed the stream. Darkstripe scrambled on top of it and crouched there, baring his teeth at the monster as it passed. For a moment its strange, glittering colors were reflected in the stinking water, and a wave washed out from it, soaking Fireheart as far as his belly fur.
Then it was gone, and Fireheart could breathe again.
As they reached the other side of the stream Fireheart could see that Whitestorm was right. The low-lying land on the ThunderClan side was covered with water. There was nothing to do but continue along the edge of the Thunderpath until the land rose and was dry enough to walk on.
Stepping thankfully off the paw-achingly hard Thunderpath, Fireheart raised his head and opened his jaws. A strong, rank stench filled his scent glands—the scent of ShadowClan! They had followed the Thunderpath out of ThunderClan territory, and now a swath of ShadowClan land lay between them and the Gathering at Fourtrees.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Willowpelt murmured uneasily.
If Bluestar heard the comment, she ignored it, quickening the pace until they were racing across the sodden turf. There were few trees here, and the close-cropped grass offered no cover for trespassing cats. Fireheart’s heart was beating fast, and not only from the speed of their journey. If ShadowClan cats caught them, they would be in trouble, but Fourtrees was not far away, and their luck might hold.
Then he caught sight of a dark shadow streaking over the ground ahead of them, on a course to intercept Bluestar at the head of her patrol. More shadows followed, and a furious yowling split the quiet of the night.
For a heartbeat Bluestar quickened her pace, as if she thought she could outrun the challengers. Then she slowed to a stop. Her warriors did the same. Fireheart stood panting; the shadows drew closer, and he saw that they were ShadowClan cats, headed by their leader, Nightstar.
“Bluestar!” he spat as he halted in front of the ThunderClan leader. “Why have you brought your cats onto ShadowClan land?”
“In these floods, it was the only way to reach Fourtrees,” Bluestar replied, her voice low and steady. “We mean no harm, Nightstar. You know there’s a truce for the Gathering.”
Nightstar hissed, his ears flattened against his head and his fur bristling. “The truce holds at Fourtrees,” he snarled. “There is no truce here.”
Instinctively, Fireheart dropped into a defensive crouch. The ShadowClan cats—apprentices and elders as well as warriors—slipped silently into a semicircle around the smaller band from ThunderClan. Like Nightstar, their coats were bristling and their tails lashed in anger. Their hostile eyes reflected the cold light of the moon. Fireheart knew that if it came to a fight, ThunderClan was hopelessly outnumbered.
“Nightstar, I’m sorry,” meowed Bluestar. “We would never trespass on your territory without good reason. Please let us pass.”
Her words did nothing to appease the ShadowClan cats. Cinderfur, the ShadowClan deputy, moved up beside his leader, a dim shape in the moonlight. “I think they’re here to spy,” he growled softly.
“Spy?” Tigerclaw shouldered his way forward to stand next to Bluestar, his head thrust out toward Cinderfur until their noses were less than a mouse-length apart. “What can we spy on here? We’re nowhere near your camp.”
Cinderfur curled back his lip to reveal thorn-sharp teeth. “Give us the word, Nightstar, and we’ll tear them apart.”
“You can try,” growled Tigerclaw.
For a few heartbeats Nightstar was silent. Fireheart’s muscles tensed. Beside him, Graystripe growled low in his throat. Mousefur bared her teeth at the nearest ShadowClan warrior, and Sandstorm’s pale golden eyes shone with readiness to fight.
“Keep back,” Nightstar grunted at last to his warriors. “We’ll let them pass. I want ThunderClan cats at the Gathering.” Though his words were friendly, he hissed them through bared teeth. Suddenly suspicious, Fireheart whispered to Graystripe, “What does he mean by that?”