“We mustn’t betray any weakness, for Bluestar’s sake and for the sake of the whole Clan,” Fireheart went on. “Remember, we are ThunderClan!” He yowled the final words, surprised by the fiery conviction that welled up from his heart, and the Clan responded by straightening their backs, licking at their ash-covered fur, and smoothing their singed whiskers.
“I shall take Darkstripe, Mousefur, Sandstorm, Whitestorm, Ashpaw, and Cloudpaw.”
“Will the others be enough to protect the camp?” Darkstripe demanded.
“Tigerclaw will know there is a Gathering,” added Longtail. “What if he uses the opportunity to attack?”
“We can’t afford to leave more cats behind than usual. If we appear weak at the Gathering, we risk inviting attack from all the Clans,” Fireheart insisted.
“He’s right,” agreed Mousefur. “We can’t let the others see our weakness!”
“RiverClan already knows the fire destroyed our camp,” added Willowpelt. “We must show them we are as strong as ever.”
“Then we are agreed?” asked Fireheart. “Longtail, Dustpelt, Frostfur, Brindleface, and Brackenfur will guard the camp. Elders, queens, you will be safe with them, and we shall return as soon as we can.”
He listened to the murmurs and searched the eyes looking up at him. With a wave of relief, he saw heads begin to nod. “Good,” he meowed, and leaped down from the rock.
The warriors and apprentices he had chosen to come with him were already circling at the camp entrance, impatiently flicking their tails. A familiar long-furred white pelt was among them. This would be Cloudpaw’s first Gathering. Fireheart had been looking forward to this moment since the kit had first come to the Clan. He still remembered his own first Gathering, racing down the slope to Fourtrees surrounded by mighty warriors, and he couldn’t help feeling a stab of disappointment as he looked around at the smoke-stained and hungry cats Cloudpaw would have to follow. And yet Fireheart could feel their excitement and pent-up energy as strong as ever. Sandstorm was kneading the ground with her forepaws, and Mousefur’s eyes shone brightly in the growing darkness as Fireheart hurried across to them.
“Longtail,” he meowed, pausing briefly beside the brown warrior. “You will be senior warrior here. Guard the Clan well.”
Longtail dipped his head to Fireheart. “They’ll be safe, I promise.”
Fireheart’s glow of satisfaction at Longtail’s respectful gesture was soured by the mocking glance Darkstripe threw him from the camp entrance. It was as if the warrior could see through his outer confidence to the uncertainty that lay beneath. Fireheart caught Sandstorm’s eye as he passed her. She was staring at him intently. Bluestar made you her deputy. She’d expect you to know what to do! Her challenging words, which had stung like an adder’s bite before, suddenly strengthened him, and he flashed Darkstripe a look of defiance as he led the way out of the camp.
The cats charged silently through the forest, the burned trees reaching into the darkening sky like twisted claws. Fireheart felt his paws sink into the ash, damp and sticky, but there was a hopeful scent in the air of fresh green shoots sprouting from the cinders.
He glanced backward. Cloudpaw was keeping up well, and Sandstorm was pushing ahead, drawing closer until she ran at his side, matching his pace.
“You spoke well on the Highrock,” she meowed, panting.
“Thanks,” answered Fireheart. He pulled away as they scrambled up a steep mound, but Sandstorm caught up as they reached the top.
“I…I’m sorry about what I said about Bluestar,” she meowed quietly. “I was just worried. The camp is looking great, considering…”
“Considering I’m deputy?” Fireheart suggested sourly.
“Considering it was so badly damaged,” Sandstorm finished. Fireheart’s ears twitched. “Bluestar must be proud of you,” she went on, and Fireheart winced—he doubted if Bluestar had even noticed, but he was grateful for Sandstorm’s words.
“Thanks,” he meowed again. He turned his head as they ran down the other side of the mound and looked into the warrior’s soft emerald eyes. “I missed you, Sandstorm—” he began.
He was interrupted by the sound of powerful paws drumming behind them, and the voice of Darkstripe growled, “So what are you going to tell the other Clans, then?”
Before Fireheart could answer, a fallen tree loomed ahead. He sprang into the air, but a branch caught his paw and he landed clumsily, stumbling. The other cats raced past him, but they slowed instinctively as Fireheart fell behind.
“Are you okay?” Darkstripe asked as Fireheart caught up to him. The striped warrior’s eyes glinted in the moonlight.
“Yes, fine,” Fireheart answered curtly, trying not to betray the pain in his paw.
It was still throbbing when the cats reached the top of the slope that led down to Fourtrees. Fireheart halted to catch his breath and gather his thoughts before they joined the other Clans. The valley below had been untouched by the fire, and the four oaks towered unscathed into the starry sky.
Fireheart glanced at the cats that waited beside him, tails twitching and ears pricked expectantly. They obviously trusted him to take Bluestar’s place at the Gathering and convince the other Clans that ThunderClan had not been weakened by their recent tragedy. He had to prove himself worthy of that trust. He flicked his tail, signaling to them as he had seen Bluestar signal so many times before, and plunged down toward the Great Rock.
Chapter 30
The air in the clearing was heavy with the scent of WindClan and RiverClan. Fireheart felt a tremor of anxiety. In just a few moments he was going to have to stand on the Great Rock and address these cats. There was no sign of ShadowClan. Had the sickness taken such a firm hold that they couldn’t make it to the Gathering? A pang of pity for Whitethroat reminded Fireheart of Tigerclaw, and of the terror in the young warrior’s eyes as the massive cat loomed at the edge of the Thunderpath. Suddenly his paws itched to mount the Great Rock and warn the other Clans about the dark warrior’s presence in the forest.
“Fireheart!” Onewhisker bounded up to Fireheart’s side. He felt a flicker of surprise at Onewhisker’s friendly purr. The last time he had seen a WindClan cat it had been Mudclaw screeching angrily away into the heather. But Onewhisker clearly hadn’t forgotten how Fireheart had brought his Clan back from exile. The two warriors had grown close on that journey, and both cats still valued the bond they had forged.
“Hi, Onewhisker,” Fireheart greeted the brown tabby. “You’d better not let Mudclaw see you talking to me, truce or no truce. We didn’t part on very good terms last time we met.”
“Mudclaw takes pride in defending his territory,” replied Onewhisker, shifting uncomfortably from paw to paw. He’d obviously heard about the two attacks on ThunderClan cats in WindClan territory.
“Maybe,” Fireheart admitted. “But that’s no excuse for turning Bluestar away from Highstones.” He found himself wishing Bluestar had been able to share with StarClan at the Moonstone that day. Things might be very different now if she had received some assurance that her warrior ancestors had not turned against her.
“Tallstar wasn’t happy when he heard about that. Even if you were sheltering Brokentail, it was no excuse—”
“Brokentail was dead by then,” Fireheart interrupted him, regretting his tone when he saw Onewhisker’s ears flicking uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Onewhisker,” he meowed more gently. “It’s good to see you again. How are you?”
“Fine,” answered Onewhisker, looking relieved. “I’m sorry to hear about the fire. I know how bad it is for a Clan to be driven from its home.” His eyes met Fireheart’s sympathetically.