Fire and Ice (Warriors 3)

“Come on then.” Graystripe led the way into the tunnel. After a few fox lengths, the slope leveled out.

Fireheart halted and sniffed the damp air. He could smell nothing but the fumes of the Thunderpath. A roaring noise rumbled overhead. Fireheart’s paws trembled as the stone floor vibrated. Was the Thunderpath above them? He fluffed out his coat against the relentless draft and felt Graystripe’s fur brush against him—his friend was circling, preparing to settle down to sleep. Fireheart crouched down and huddled beside his friend. He closed his stinging eyes and thought of the gentle forest breezes and the rustling of the leaves. Exhaustion fought briefly with a pang of longing to be at home in his den, before he gave in to the blackness that swam into his mind.

When Fireheart opened his eyes again, gray light was glowing at the end of the tunnel. Dawn must be near. Fireheart’s bones ached from the cold hard ground. He nudged Graystripe, who grunted. “Morning already?”

“Almost,” Fireheart answered, getting to his paws. Graystripe stretched and stood up too.

“I think we should head that way,” Fireheart meowed, craning his neck away from the light. “I think this tunnel leads right under a Thunderpath. It might take us nearer to the…” His voice trailed off; he had no words to describe the tangle of Thunderpaths they had seen last night. Beside him Graystripe nodded, and together they began to pad wordlessly into the darkness.

Before long Fireheart spotted light ahead of them. They quickened their pace until they were racing up a short, steep slope that led them into a world filled with gray dawn light.

They had come up near the edge of a patch of barren, dirty grass. Thunderpaths enclosed it on two sides, and another arched overhead. A fire burned in the middle of the grass. A few Twolegs lay around it. One of them stretched and rolled over, and another grunted angrily in its sleep, but the noise and stench from the Thunderpaths didn’t seem to wake them.

Fireheart watched them warily, then froze as something else caught his eye: dark outlines that flitted back and forth in front of the flames. Cats! Could it be WindClan? Fireheart looked at the fire and the cats, and his mind flooded with the memory of his dream—the noise of the Thunderpath, the sight of the flames and the cats, and Spottedleaf’s voice murmuring, “Fire will save the Clan.”

A surge of emotion made Fireheart’s legs feel weak. Did this mean that ThunderClan’s fate was bound up with the fate of WindClan?

“Fireheart? Fireheart!”

Graystripe’s voice jolted Fireheart back to reality. He breathed deeply to calm himself.

“We must find Tallstar and speak with him,” he meowed.

“Then you think it is WindClan?” asked Graystripe.

“You smelled their marker—who else could it be?” Fireheart replied.

Graystripe looked at him, his eyes shining with triumph. “We found them!”

Fireheart nodded. He didn’t point out that finding WindClan was only half their mission. They still had to convince them that it was safe to return home.

Graystripe braced himself, ready to leap forward. “Let’s go!”

“Hang on,” Fireheart warned. “We don’t want to startle them.”

Just then, one of the Twolegs sat up with a jolt and began shouting at the ragged cats around the fire. The noise roused the other Twolegs, who joined in with rough, angry voices.

The WindClan cats scattered. All caution forgotten, Fireheart and Graystripe raced after them. Fireheart could feel his fur prickle with fear as he and Graystripe ran straight toward the fire and the Twolegs. Every instinct told him to keep away, but he dared not lose sight of the fleeing WindClan cats.

One of the Twolegs staggered to its feet, looming up in front of him. Fireheart skidded, sending up a spray of dust. Something exploded beside him, pelting him with hard-edged splinters, but nothing pierced his thick coat. He glanced backward, checking for Graystripe. He was relieved to see his friend right behind him, his eyes wide with alarm and his fur standing on end.

They charged into the safety of the shadows beneath the soaring Thunderpath. Ahead, Fireheart watched the WindClan cats stop close to one of the Thunderpath’s great stone legs. And then, one by one, the cats disappeared into the ground.

“Where did they go?” meowed Graystripe in amazement.

“Another tunnel?” Fireheart suggested. “Come on, let’s find out.”

Cautiously, the two friends approached the spot where the WindClan cats had vanished. As they neared, they saw a hole in the earth. Like their resting place on the previous night, the entrance was round and lined with stone, sloping away into utter blackness.

Fireheart led the way, all his senses alert for a WindClan patrol. The floor beneath his paws felt wet and slimy, and the sound of trickling water echoed around them. As the tunnel leveled out, Fireheart pricked his ears and opened his mouth. The damp air smelled rank and bitter—worse than the tunnel they had slept in. Here the Thunderpath fumes mingled with the fear-scent of WindClan cats.

It was too dark to see anything, but after a few paces Fireheart’s whiskers sensed a turning in the tunnel. Fireheart flicked his tail, touching Graystripe lightly with its tip. He couldn’t see his friend in the blackness, but Graystripe must have felt the signal, because he stopped beside Fireheart and together they peered around the corner.

Ahead of them, the tunnel was lit by a narrow hole in the ceiling that led to the wasteland above. Fireheart could see many cats huddled together in the gray light—warriors and elders, queens and kits, all pitifully thin. A cold breeze blew relentlessly through the hole in the roof, stirring the thin fur on the skinny bodies. Fireheart shuddered, for the breeze carried to him the stench of sickness and crowfood.

Suddenly the tunnel shook as a monster roared overhead. Graystripe and Fireheart, already tense, jumped, but the WindClan cats didn’t react. They simply huddled with half-closed eyes, numb to their surroundings.

The noise died away. Fireheart took a deep breath and stepped around the corner, out into the thin light.

A gray WindClan tom spun around, his fur standing on end as he yowled an alarm to the rest of the Clan. In one smooth movement, the WindClan warriors formed a line across the tunnel in front of the queens and elders, their backs arched, hissing fiercely.

With a feeling of dread, Fireheart saw the glint of unsheathed claws and thorn-sharp fangs. These half-starved cats were about to attack.

CHAPTER 6

Fireheart pressed his body warningly against Graystripe, who had padded out to join him. They had to show no threat if they were to survive.

The WindClan warriors stood their ground without moving a muscle. They’re waiting for a signal from their leader! Fireheart realized. They still follow the warrior code, even though they have to live like this.

From behind the line of warriors, a black-and-white tom weaved his way to the front. With a jolt, Fireheart recognized the long-tailed cat from his dream. This must be Tallstar, leader of WindClan.

Tallstar sniffed the air, but Fireheart and Graystripe were downwind, their scents carried away by the steady breeze. As the black-and-white cat walked toward them, Fireheart breathed in the rank odor of crowfood that hung on his coat. Like Graystripe, he remained perfectly still, his eyes down, as Tallstar circled them, sniffing their fur closely.

Finally Tallstar returned to his warriors. Fireheart heard him murmur, “ThunderClan.” The warriors flattened their fur, but remained in a defensive line, shielding the rest of the cats.

Tallstar turned to face his visitors and sat down, curling his tail carefully around his paws. “I was expecting ShadowClan,” he growled. His eyes burned with hostility. “Why are you here?”

“We came to find you,” Fireheart meowed, feeling his voice crack with tension. “Bluestar and the other Clan leaders want you to return to your home.”

The WindClan leader’s voice was still wary. “That land is not safe for my Clan anymore,” he meowed. There was a hunted look in Tallstar’s eye that sent a pang of sorrow through Fireheart.

“ShadowClan has driven out Brokenstar,” he meowed. “He is no longer a threat.”

The warriors behind Tallstar turned and looked at one another. Murmurs of surprise rippled back through the Clan.

“You must return as soon as possible,” Fireheart urged. “ShadowClan and RiverClan are starting to hunt in the uplands. We saw a RiverClan hunting patrol near the old badger set while we were on our way here.”

Tallstar bristled angrily.

“But they are poor rabbit hunters,” Graystripe added. “I think they went home with empty bellies.”

Tallstar and his warriors purred with satisfaction. Their good spirits encouraged Fireheart, but he could see how weak they were. This Clan would find the journey back to the uplands long and hard. “May we travel with you?” he suggested respectfully.

Tallstar’s eyes flashed. He knew the question was a tactful offer of help. He looked steadily at Fireheart. “Yes,” he replied at last. “Thank you.”

Fireheart realized he hadn’t introduced himself. “This is Graystripe,” he meowed, dipping his head. “And I am Fireheart. We are warriors of ThunderClan.”

“Fireheart,” repeated Tallstar thoughtfully. Sunlight was flooding through the gap in the roof now, making Fireheart’s orange pelt glow in the dim tunnel. “The name suits you.”

Another monster roared overhead. Fireheart and Graystripe flinched. Tallstar watched them with amusement and flicked his tail. It must have been a signal, for the line of warriors behind him split up. “We shall leave at once,” he announced, standing up.