Ravenpaw purred happily as he padded over to Fireheart and touched noses with him. “Welcome,” he mewed. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you,” Graystripe meowed, pushing his way through the gap in the door after Fireheart.
“Did you get WindClan back to their camp safely?” Ravenpaw asked. Fireheart and Graystripe had stayed with him during their journey to bring WindClan home.
“Yes,” mewed Fireheart, “but it’s a long story. We can’t—”
“Well, what’s going on here?” Another cat’s meow interrupted them.
Fireheart spun around, flattening his ears, ready to fight if this newcomer was a threat. Then he recognized Barley, the black-and-white loner who had willingly shared his home with Ravenpaw. “Hi, Barley,” Fireheart meowed, calming down. “We need to talk to Ravenpaw.”
“So I see,” Barley mewed. “And it must be important, to bring you across the moors in this weather.”
“Yes, it is,” Fireheart agreed. He glanced at the former ThunderClan apprentice, the urgency of his mission prickling through his fur. “Ravenpaw, we haven’t any time to waste.”
Ravenpaw looked puzzled. “You know you can talk to me as much as you want.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Barley offered. “Feel free to hunt. We’ve plenty of mice here.” He gave a friendly nod to the visiting cats, and squeezed out under the door.
“Hunt? Really?” meowed Graystripe. Fireheart felt sharp pangs of hunger grip his belly.
“Of course,” mewed Ravenpaw. “Look, why don’t you eat first? Then you can tell me why you’re here.”
“I know Tigerclaw killed Redtail,” Ravenpaw insisted. “I was there, and I saw him do it.”
The three cats were crouched in the hayloft of the Twoleg barn. Hunting had not taken very long. After the desparate struggle to find prey in the snow-covered forest, the barn seemed to the hungry ThunderClan warriors to be overflowing with mice. Now Fireheart was warm, and his stomach felt comfortably full. He would have liked to curl up and sleep in the soft, fragrant hay, but he knew that he had to talk to Ravenpaw right away if he and Graystripe were to get back to camp before their absence was noticed. “Tell us everything you remember,” he urged, giving Ravenpaw an encouraging nod.
Ravenpaw stared ahead of him, his eyes dark as he journeyed back in his mind to the battle at the Sunningrocks. Fireheart could see his confidence beginning to ebb. The black cat was losing himself in his memories, reliving the fear and the burden of what he knew.
“I’d been wounded in the shoulder,” he began, “and Redtail—he was our deputy then, as you know—told me to hide in a crack in the rock until it was safe to get away. I was just going to make a dash for it when I saw Redtail attack a RiverClan cat. I think it was that gray warrior called Stonefur. Redtail knocked Stonefur off his paws, and looked as if he was about to sink in his claws for some serious injury.”
“Why didn’t he?” Graystripe put in.
“Oakheart came out of nowhere,” Ravenpaw explained. “He sank his teeth into Redtail’s scruff and pulled him off Stonefur.” His voice shook as the memories flooded through his mind’s eye. “Stonefur ran away.” The cat paused, unconsciously crouching down as if he were scared of something very close by.
“What next?” Fireheart prompted gently.
“Redtail spat at Oakheart. He asked him if RiverClan warriors were unable to fight their own battles. Redtail was brave,” Ravenpaw added. “The RiverClan deputy was twice his size. And then…then Oakheart said a strange thing. He told Redtail, ‘No ThunderClan cat will ever harm that warrior.’”
“What?” Graystripe narrowed his eyes until they were yellow slits. “That doesn’t make sense. Are you sure you heard him right?”
“Positive,” insisted Ravenpaw.
“But the Clans fight all the time,” meowed Fireheart. “What’s so special about Stonefur?”
“I don’t know.” Ravenpaw shrugged, shying away from their searching questions.
“So what did Redtail do after Oakheart said that?” asked Graystripe.
Ravenpaw’s ears pricked up and his eyes widened. “He flew at Oakheart. He bowled him right off his paws and underneath a rocky overhang. I…I couldn’t see them, though I could hear them snarling. And then I heard a rumbling sound, and the rock collapsed on top of them!” He stopped, shivering.
“Please go on,” Fireheart mewed. He hated putting Ravenpaw through this, but he had to know the truth.
“I heard a screech from Oakheart and I saw his tail sticking out from under the rocks.” Ravenpaw closed his eyes, as if he wanted to shut out the sight, and then opened them again. “Just then I heard Tigerclaw behind me. He ordered me to go back to the camp, but I’d only gone a little way when I realized I had no idea if Redtail was okay after the rockfall. So I crept back, past all the RiverClan warriors that were running away. And when I got to the rocks, Redtail was charging out of the dust. His tail was straight up and his fur stood on end, but he was all right, not a scratch on him that I could see. And he ran straight into Tigerclaw, who was in the shadows.”
“And was that when—” Graystripe began.
“Yes.” Ravenpaw’s claws flexed as if he was imagining himself back in the battle. “Tigerclaw grabbed Redtail and pinned him down. Redtail struggled, but he couldn’t break free. And…” Ravenpaw swallowed, and stared at the floor. “Tigerclaw sank his teeth into Redtail’s throat, and it was all over.” He dropped his chin onto his paws.
Fireheart moved closer to him, and pressed his body against Ravenpaw’s flank. “So Oakheart died when the rocks fell on him. It was an accident,” he murmured. “No cat killed him.”
“That still doesn’t prove that Tigerclaw killed Redtail,” Graystripe pointed out. “I don’t see that any of this helps us at all.”
For a heartbeat Fireheart stared at him, discouraged. Then his eyes widened and he sat up, paws tingling with excitement. “Yes, it does. If we can prove the rockfall story, it shows that Tigerclaw was lying when he said Oakheart killed Redtail, and when he claimed to have killed Oakheart in revenge.”
“Just a minute,” Graystripe interrupted. “Ravenpaw, at the Gathering you didn’t say anything about falling rocks. You made it sound as if Redtail killed Oakheart.”
“Did I?” Ravenpaw blinked, and struggled to focus on Graystripe. “I didn’t mean to. This is what really happened, I promise.”
“And that’s why Bluestar wouldn’t listen to us,” Fireheart went on excitedly. “She couldn’t believe that Redtail would have killed another deputy. But Redtail didn’t kill him. Bluestar will have to take us seriously now!”
Fireheart’s brain was whirling with everything they had discovered. He wanted to ask Ravenpaw more questions, but he could smell the fear-scent on his friend, and saw the old haunted look in his eyes, as if telling his story had brought back all his unhappy memories of ThunderClan. “Is there any more you can tell us, Ravenpaw?” he mewed gently.
Ravenpaw shook his head.
“This means so much to the Clan,” Fireheart told him. “Hopefully now we stand a chance of convincing Bluestar that Tigerclaw is dangerous.”
“If she listens,” Graystripe pointed out. “It’s a pity you told her Ravenpaw’s first story,” he added to Fireheart. “Now he’s changed everything, she won’t know what to believe.”
“But he hasn’t changed everything,” Fireheart protested, as Ravenpaw flinched at Graystripe’s irritable tone. “We misunderstood, that’s all. I’ll convince Bluestar somehow,” he added. “At least we know the truth now.”
The black cat looked a little happier, but Fireheart could see that he didn’t want to think about the past anymore. He settled beside Ravenpaw, purring encouragement, and for a short while the three cats shared tongues.