Firestar slipped quietly up to the ridge where he could look down over the camp. There was a strong scent of WindClan in the air, along with the tang of blood and fear. A single eerie wail broke the silence as Firestar breasted the rise and saw what Tigerstar had done.
The hollow where the WindClan cats had their camp was lined with gorse bushes. A few yellow flowers still showed on the spiny branches. Beyond, in the center of the camp, Firestar could see cats huddled together, scarcely moving. As he watched, a tortoiseshell queen raised her head and let out another chilling wail.
“Morningflower!” Firestar exclaimed.
Flicking his tail for his warriors to follow him, he raced down through the bushes and into the camp. Bursting out into the open, he was confronted by the WindClan leader, Tallstar. The black-and-white tom’s fur was torn and covered in dust, and his long tail drooped with exhaustion.
“Firestar!” His voice was rough with pain. “I knew you would come.”
“Not soon enough. I’m sorry.”
The WindClan leader shook his head helplessly. “You did your best.” He turned toward the cats who crouched on the floor of the clearing, too shocked or injured to move. “You can see what Tigerstar has done.”
“Tell us what happened,” urged Graystripe.
Tallstar twitched his ears. “You can see. Tigerstar and his warriors crept up on us…we had no warning, and in any case there were too many for us to fight.”
Firestar padded forward, feeling his stomach turn over. None of the WindClan warriors had escaped with o u t wounds. Deadfoot, the WindClan deputy, was lying very still with blood trickling from a gash on his flank; next to him lay Runningbrook, a she-cat whose pale gray fur was hanging off her shoulder in clumps. Their eyes stared at nothing, as if they couldn’t believe what had happened.
Firestar could scarcely believe it either. This had been a completely unprovoked attack. There had been no warning at the last Gathering. Tigerstar had gained no extra territory for his Clan. The purpose of this attack had been nothing more than to bring fear to the WindClan cats.
“Hey, Firestar!” A weak voice made Firestar turn to see his old friend Onewhisker. The brown tabby warrior was lying on his side with deep wounds to his throat and shoulder. Barkface, the WindClan medicine cat, was pressing cobwebs to them, but the blood still oozed out sluggishly.
“Onewhisker…” Firestar trailed off, not knowing what to say.
Onewhisker’s eyes were bright with pain. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He grunted. “You should have seen the other cat.”
“I wish we’d come in time,” Firestar meowed.
“I wish you had, too. Look over there.”
Onewhisker turned his head, and Barkface snapped, “Keep still!”
Firestar followed the injured warrior’s gaze. Morningflower, the tortoiseshell queen who had been wailing aloud, was crouched over the motionless body of another cat. A small body, with torn ginger-and-white fur.
“No…” Firestar’s throat closed so he had to choke out the words. “Not Gorsepaw.”
“Tigerstar killed him.” Onewhisker’s voice was tight with rage. “He pinned him down in the center of the clearing, with his warriors around him so none of us could get close enough to stop him. He…he said he was going to kill him to show the rest of us what we could expect if we refused to join him.”
Firestar closed his eyes, unable to bear the bloodstained scene in front of him, yet all he could see was an image of the massive leader of TigerClan, paws holding down the helpless apprentice while he challenged the WindClan warriors. A shiver ran through him. He thought back to the time that he and Graystripe had traveled to find WindClan and bring them home after ShadowClan had driven them into exile. Firestar had carried Gorsepaw, then a tiny kit, back across the Thunderpath.
All of that was wasted now, thanks to Tigerstar. Firestar could not help wondering if Tigerstar had deliberately chosen Gorsepaw because he knew of Firestar’s bond with the young apprentice.
Opening his eyes, Firestar left Onewhisker and padded softly over to Morningflower, touching her shoulder with his nose to draw her attention.
She looked up, her beautiful eyes dulled with grief. “Firestar,” she whispered. “I didn’t ever think you’d saved my son for this. What have StarClan done to us?”
Firestar crouched down beside Morningflower, pressing himself against her side to comfort her, and touched his nose to Gorsepaw’s fur. “He was growing into a fine warrior,” he murmured.
The sound of another cat roused him; he looked up to see Graystripe. His friend bowed his head, too, and touched Gorsepaw’s fur, mewing a few words of comfort to Morningflower.
“Firestar, what do you want us to do?” he asked, raising his head again. “We can’t just leave them like this.”
With a last gentle lick of Morningflower’s ear, Firestar stood up and moved away with his friend. “Take two or three cats on a patrol,” he ordered. “One or two of WindClan, too, if any of them are fit. They’ll know their boundaries better than us. Check to make sure that there are no TigerClan warriors still lurking around. If you find any, you know what to do—chase them off, or kill them if you have to. And bring back as much fresh-kill as you can. WindClan need to eat, and they’re not capable of hunting for themselves.”
“Right,” meowed Graystripe. He called Sandstorm, Cloudtail, and Dustpelt, and checked with Tallstar for permission to patrol in his territory. Tallstar agreed gratefully, and ordered Webfoot, who had escaped with torn fur and scratches, to go with them and show them the best places for prey.
“We need to talk,” the WindClan leader mewed to Firestar as he watched the patrol leave. “Tigerstar left a message for you.”
Firestar pricked his ears. “A message?”
“He wants both of us to meet him tomorrow at Fourtrees, at sunhigh,” Tallstar replied. “He says he’s tired of waiting. He wants our decision about whether we’ll join TigerClan or not…and he’s shown us what he’ll do if we refuse.”
He flicked his tail toward the wounded warriors and the limp body of the dead apprentice, all his grief contained in the simple gesture.
Firestar met his gaze, and the two leaders shared a long look of understanding.
“I’d rather die than join Tigerstar’s Clan,” Firestar declared at last.
“So would I,” agreed Tallstar. “And I’m glad to hear you say that. Bluestar was right about you all along. Many cats thought you were too young and inexperienced when she made you her deputy, but you’re showing your quality now. The forest needs cats like you.”
Firestar bowed his head, humbled by the unexpected praise. “So—we’ll meet tomorrow at Fourtrees,” he meowed.
Tallstar nodded gravely. “Take my advice, Firestar, and bring some of your warriors with you. When we refuse to join Tigerstar, I don’t imagine he’ll let us walk away without a fight.”
Firestar felt chilled to the tip of his tail. He could see that the older cat was right. “Then if we have to, we’ll fight together?”
“Together,” Tallstar promised. “Our Clans will join together like a lion to fight the tiger who prowls our forest.”
Firestar stared at him in amazement. Tallstar could not know of Bluestar’s prophecy, nor of Firestar’s vision by the stream. And yet he had echoed the words of the prophecy.
Four will become two; lion and tiger will join in battle. Had StarClan s p o k en to him as well? Firestar knew that the WindClan leader would not say—what passed between a Clan leader and the spirits of their warrior ancestors was for no other ears. But this echo reminded Firestar that they were leaders together, with the power of two mighty Clans behind them.