Into the Wild (Warriors 1)

Firepaw concentrated on the scent from up ahead. He could smell Whitestorm. He sniffed again. Tigerclaw wasn’t with them. He raced to catch up and skidded to a halt behind the band of ThunderClan cats.

The warriors turned and glared at him, fur bristling, ears flattened aggressively. Darkstripe was with them and the young she-cat Mousefur, as well as the tabby warrior Runningwind. Mousefur wasn’t the only she-cat in the patrol—Willowpelt was there too.

“Firepaw!” growled Whitestorm. “What are you doing here?”

Firepaw gasped for breath. “Bluestar sent me!” he panted. “She wanted me to find Yellowfang before—”

Whitestorm interrupted him. “Ah!” he meowed. “Bluestar told me I might find a friend out here. Now I understand what she meant.” He looked thoughtfully at Firepaw.

“Is Tigerclaw nearby?” Firepaw asked, feeling a tingle of pride at their shared gaze.

Whitestorm looked at him curiously. “Bluestar insisted she needed him to remain at camp, to protect the remaining kits.”

Firepaw nodded quickly, relieved. He meowed urgently, “Whitestorm, I need your help. I can lead you to the kits. Graypaw is waiting for me. We plan to rescue them tonight. Will you come?”

“Of course we’ll come!” The warriors flicked their tails with excitement.

“It will mean raiding the ShadowClan camp,” Firepaw warned.

“Can you lead us there?” asked Runningwind eagerly.

“No, but Yellowfang can. And she has promised to bring help from her old allies in the camp.”

Mousefur glared at him and thrashed her tail angrily. “You have found Yellowfang?” she hissed.

“I don’t understand,” meowed Whitestorm, puzzled. “The traitor is going to help rescue the kits she stole?”

Firepaw took a deep breath to calm himself, then looked steadily into Whitestorm’s eyes. “Yellowfang didn’t take them,” he meowed. “Nor did she murder Spottedleaf. She wants to help us rescue our kits.”

Whitestorm stared back at him, then blinked slowly. “Lead the way, Firepaw,” he ordered.

Graypaw was waiting by the ash tree, pacing restlessly around its rotten trunk. He stopped as soon as he saw the patrol emerge from the mist and twitched his whiskers in greeting.

“Any sign of Yellowfang?” Firepaw asked.

“Not yet,” answered Graypaw.

“We don’t know how far it is to the ShadowClan camp,” Firepaw pointed out quickly, feeling Whitestorm stiffen beside him. “She may be on her way back right now.”

“Or she might be happily sharing tongues with her ShadowClan comrades while we sit here like fools waiting to be ambushed!” meowed Graypaw.

Whitestorm watched the two apprentices. His ears flicked uneasily. “Firepaw?” he prompted.

“She will come back,” Firepaw promised.

“Well said, young Firepaw.” Yellowfang stalked out from behind the ash tree and sat down. “You’re not the only one who can sneak up on someone,” she meowed at Firepaw. “Remember the day we met? You were looking in the wrong direction that time too.”

Three other ShadowClan cats appeared from behind the tree and settled themselves calmly on either side of Yellowfang. The ThunderClan cats bristled, alert and suspicious.

Both Clans stared silently at each other. Firepaw fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure what to do now. Eventually one of the ShadowClan cats, a gray tom, spoke. His long body was skinny, and his fur looked dull. “We have come to help you, not to harm you. You have come for your kits; we will help you rescue them.”

“What’s in it for you?” asked Whitestorm warily.

“We want your help to get rid of Brokenstar. He has broken the warrior code, and ShadowClan is suffering.”

“So it’s that simple, is it?” growled Runningwind. “We just drop into your camp, snatch the kits, kill your leader, and go home.”

“You will not meet as much resistance as you think,” murmured the gray tom.

Yellowfang stood up. “Let me introduce my old friends,” she meowed, weaving her way around the ShadowClan cats. She brushed past the gray tom. “This is Ashfur; he is one of the Clan elders.

“And this is Nightpelt, a senior warrior before Raggedstar was killed.” She circled a battered black tom, who nodded at them.

“And this is one of our elder queens, Dawncloud. Two of her kits died driving out WindClan.”

Dawncloud, a small tabby, meowed in greeting. “I do not wish to lose any more of my kits,” she told them.

Whitestorm gave his chest a quick lick to smooth down his fur. “You are clearly skilled warriors if you managed to creep up on us like that. But are there enough of you? We need to know what we’ll face when we raid the ShadowClan camp.”

“The old and sick of ShadowClan are slowly starving,” meowed Ashfur. “The casualties among our kits are more than we can cope with.”

“But if ShadowClan is a mess,” burst out Darkstripe, “how come you have shown so much strength lately? And why is Brokenstar still your leader?”

“Brokenstar is surrounded by a small group of elite warriors,” answered Ashfur. “They are the ones to fear, because they would die for him without question. The other warriors obey his orders only because they are frightened. They will fight by his side as long as they think Brokenstar is going to win. If they thought he would lose…”

“They would fight against him, not for him!” Darkstripe finished the elder’s words in disgust. “What sort of loyalty is that?”

The hackles of the ShadowClan cats began to rise.

“Our Clan was not always like this,” Yellowfang interrupted. “When Raggedstar led ShadowClan, we were feared for our strength. But in those days our strength came from the warrior code and Clan loyalty, not from fear and bloodlust.” The old medicine cat sighed. “If only Raggedstar had lived longer.”

“How did Raggedstar die?” asked Whitestorm curiously. “There were so many rumors at the Gatherings, but no one seemed to know for sure.”

Yellowfang’s eyes clouded with sorrow. “He was ambushed by a warrior patrol from another Clan.”

Whitestorm nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that is what most cats seemed to think. These are bad times indeed, when leaders are picked off in the dark, instead of open and honorable battle.”

Firepaw frowned, his mind racing over different battle plans. “Is there any way of taking the kits without alerting the whole Clan?” he asked.

Dawncloud answered him. “They are very closely guarded. Brokenstar will be expecting ThunderClan to try to take them. You won’t be able to steal them in secret. Open attack is your only hope.”

“Then we must concentrate our attack on Brokenstar and his inner guard,” meowed Whitestorm.

Yellowfang had a suggestion. “The ShadowClan warriors should lead me into the ShadowClan camp. They could say they had captured me. We have to make sure Brokenstar and his warriors are out of their dens. News of my capture will bring them into the clearing. Once they’re all out in the open, I’ll give the signal for you to attack.”

Whitestorm was silent for a moment. Then he nodded, his face grave as he committed his warriors to the attack. “Very well, Yellowfang,” he meowed. “Please lead the way to the ShadowClan camp.”

CHAPTER 24

Yellowfang turned and pushed her way into the bracken. Whitestorm and the others followed her.

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sp; Firepaw was tingling with excitement. He didn’t feel the damp chill in the air, and his weariness was long forgotten.

Yellowfang guided them to a small hollow surrounded by thick undergrowth and pointed out the entrance to the ShadowClan camp. The tangled mass of brambles looked very different from the neat gorse tunnel that led into the ThunderClan camp. The camp boundary was full of holes and gaps and the stench of rotting meat wafted toward them.

“You eat crow food?” whispered Graypaw, curling his lip.

“Our warriors are used for attacking, not hunting,” replied Ashfur. “We eat whatever we can find.”

“ThunderClan, hide in that clump of bracken over there,” hissed Yellowfang. “It’s full of toadstools that will disguise your scent. Wait here till you hear me call.”

She stepped back to let the other ShadowClan cats lead the way, tucking herself into the center of their group as though she were their prisoner. They headed silently into the camp.

The ThunderClan cats settled themselves among the toadstools, tense and alert. Firepaw could feel his coat prickling. He looked at Graypaw beside him. The thick fur on the back of his friend’s neck was standing on end, and Firepaw could hear him panting with suppressed excitement.

Suddenly yowling erupted from the ShadowClan camp. Without hesitating, the ThunderClan cats sprang from their hiding places and raced through the entrance.

Yellowfang, Ashfur, Dawncloud, and Nightpelt were in a well-trodden, muddy clearing, wrestling with six vicious-looking warriors. Firepaw recognized Brokenstar and his deputy, Blackfoot, among them. The warriors looked hungry and battle-scarred, but Firepaw could see the hard muscles pounding beneath their patchy fur.

Around the edge of the clearing, groups of scrawny cats stared uncertainly at the mayhem. Their skinny bodies seemed to recoil at the violence, while their dull eyes looked on, shocked and confused. Out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw saw Runningnose back away and hide beneath a bush.