Rising Storm (Warriors 5)

“No. It has no name,” Yellowfang muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the captives. “It comes from the rats that live on a Twoleg dump on the far side of ShadowClan territory.” She glared at Littlecloud. “Surely the elders know those Twoleg rats carry sickness, and must never be taken as prey?”

“An apprentice brought the rat back,” explained Littlecloud. “He was too young to remember.”

Fireheart listened to the sick cat’s labored breathing as the ThunderClan cats looked on in silence. “What should we do?” he asked Bluestar.

Yellowfang spoke up before she could answer. “Bluestar, it is not long since greencough devastated our Clan,” she reminded her. “You lost a life then.” The medicine cat narrowed her eyes, and Fireheart guessed what she must be thinking. Only he and Yellowfang knew that Bluestar was on her last life. If the disease spread into ThunderClan, she might die, and ThunderClan would be left without a leader. The thought turned Fireheart’s blood to ice, and he shivered in spite of the hot morning sun.

Bluestar nodded. “You are right, Yellowfang,” she meowed quietly. “These cats must leave. Fireheart, send them away.” Her voice was flat and expressionless as she turned back to her den.

Reluctantly, his relief at reaching a decision tempered by pity for the sick cats, Fireheart meowed, “Sandstorm and I will escort the ShadowClan warriors back to their border.” Mews of approval rippled through the other cats. Littlecloud stared at Fireheart, pleading with his eyes. Fireheart forced himself to look away. “Go back to your dens,” he told his Clanmates.

The other cats slipped noiselessly into the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing, until only Cinderpelt lingered next to Fireheart and Sandstorm. Whitethroat started to cough, his body racked with painful spasms.

“Please let me help them,” begged Cinderpelt.

Fireheart shook his head helplessly as Yellowfang called from her tunnel, “Cinderpelt! Come here. You must wash their sickness from your muzzle.”

Cinderpelt stared at Fireheart.

“Come now!” spat Yellowfang. “Unless you want me to add a few nettle leaves to the mixture!”

Cinderpelt backed away with a last reproachful glance at Fireheart. But there was nothing he could do. Bluestar had given him an order, and the Clan had agreed.

Fireheart glanced at Sandstorm and was relieved to find her eyes filled with sympathy. He knew she would understand his struggle between compassion for the sick cats and the desire to protect his Clan from the illness.

“Let’s go,” Sandstorm meowed softly. “The sooner they get back to their own camp, the better.”

“Okay,” Fireheart answered. He looked at Littlecloud, forcing himself to ignore the desperation on the small cat’s face. “The Thunderpath is busy. There are always more monsters about in greenleaf. We’ll help you cross.”

“No need,” whispered Littlecloud. “We can cross it ourselves.”

“We’ll take you there anyway,” Fireheart told him. “Come on.”

The ShadowClan warriors heaved themselves to their paws and padded unsteadily to the camp entrance. Sandstorm and Fireheart followed without speaking, although Fireheart drew in his breath sharply as he watched the sick cats haul themselves painfully up the ravine.

As they made their way into the forest, a mouse scuttled across the path in front of them. The ShadowClan warriors’ ears twitched but they were too weak to give chase. Without stopping to think, Fireheart shot ahead of Sandstorm and tracked the scent of the mouse into the undergrowth. He killed it and carried it back to the sickly ShadowClan cats, dropping it at Littlecloud’s paws. As if they felt too ill to be grateful, they said nothing but crouched and nibbled at the fresh-kill.

Fireheart saw Sandstorm looking on doubtfully. “They can’t spread sickness by eating,” he pointed out. “And they’ll need their strength to return to their camp.”

“Looks like they don’t have much appetite anyway,” Sandstorm commented as Littlecloud and Whitethroat suddenly got up and stumbled away from the half-eaten mouse into the undergrowth. A moment later Fireheart heard them retching.

“A waste of prey,” Sandstorm muttered, scraping dust over the remains of the mouse.

“I guess,” answered Fireheart, disappointed. He waited till the two cats reappeared, then led Sandstorm after them.

Fireheart could smell the acrid fumes of the Thunderpath a few moments before the rumbling of the monsters reached them through the leaf-laden trees. Sandstorm meowed to the ShadowClan cats, “I know you don’t want our help, but we’ll see you across the Thunderpath.” Fireheart nodded in agreement. He was more concerned about their safety than suspicious that the cats would not leave ThunderClan territory.

“We’ll cross alone,” insisted Littlecloud. “Just leave us here.”

Fireheart looked sharply at him, suddenly wondering if he should be less trusting. But he still found it hard to believe that these sick warriors posed any threat to his Clan. “Okay,” he conceded. Sandstorm flashed him a questioning glance, but Fireheart gave a small signal with his tail and the orange she-cat sat down. Littlecloud and Whitethroat nodded farewell and disappeared into the ferns.

“Are we going to—” began Sandstorm.

“Follow them?” Fireheart guessed what she was going to say. “I suppose we should.”

They waited a few moments for the sound of the ShadowClan cats to fade into the bushes, and then began to track them through the forest.

“This isn’t the way to the Thunderpath,” Sandstorm whispered as the trail veered toward Fourtrees.

“Perhaps they’re following the route they came by,” Fireheart suggested, touching his nose to the tip of a bramble stem. The fresh stench of the sick cats made his lip curl. “Come on,” he meowed. “Let’s catch up with them.” Anxiety flashed through him. Had he been wrong about the ShadowClan cats? Were they heading back into ThunderClan territory in spite of their promise to leave? He quickened his pace and Sandstorm ran silently at his heels.

The noise of the Thunderpath hummed like sleepy bees in the distance. The ShadowClan cats seemed to be following a trail that ran parallel with the stinking stone path. Their scent led Fireheart and Sandstorm out of the cover of the forest ferns and onto a bare patch of ground. Just ahead, the ShadowClan cats had crossed the scentline that marked the border between the two territories and were ducking into a clump of brambles, unaware of their ThunderClan shadows.

Sandstorm narrowed her eyes. “Why are they going in there?”

“Let’s find out,” Fireheart replied. He hurried forward, swallowing a prickle of fear as he crossed the scentline. The rumble of the Thunderpath had grown much louder, and his ears twitched uncomfortably at the bruising din.

The ThunderClan warriors picked their way through the barbed stems. Fireheart was painfully aware they were on hostile territory now, but he had to be sure that the ShadowClan cats were returning to their camp. By the sound of it, the Thunderpath was only a few foxlengths in front of them now, and the scent of the sick cats was almost drowned by its fumes.

Suddenly the brambles ended and Fireheart found himself stepping out onto the filthy grass that

edged the Thunderpath. “Careful!” he warned Sandstorm as she hopped out beside him. The hard gray path lay right in front of them, shimmering in the heat, and the ginger she-cat shrank back as a monster roared past.

“Where are the ShadowClan cats?” she asked.

Fireheart stared across the Thunderpath, screwing his eyes up and flattening his ears as more monsters screamed past, their bitter wind dragging at his fur and whiskers. The sick cats were nowhere to be seen, but they couldn’t possibly have crossed already.

“Look,” Sandstorm hissed. She pointed with her nose. Fireheart followed her wide-eyed stare along the dusty strip of grass. It was empty apart from a tiny flicker of movement where the tip of Whitethroat’s tail was disappearing into the ground, underneath the stinking flat stone of the Thunderpath.

Fireheart’s eyes grew round with disbelief. It was as if the Thunderpath had opened its mouth and swallowed the ShadowClan cats whole.

CHAPTER 9

“Where have they gone?” Fireheart gasped.

“Let’s have a closer look,” suggested Sandstorm, already trotting toward the place where the ShadowClan cats had disappeared.

Fireheart hurried after her. As they neared the patch of grass that had swallowed up the black tail, he noticed a shadow where the earth dipped away sharply into a hollow beside the Thunderpath. It was the entrance to a stone tunnel that led under the Thunderpath, like the one he’d used with Graystripe on their journey to find WindClan. Sandstorm’s pelt brushed against him as they crept down the slope and cautiously sniffed the gloomy entrance. Fireheart felt the rush of wind on his ears from the monsters roaring past above, but as well as the stench of the Thunderpath, he could smell the fresh scents of the ShadowClan cats. They had definitely come this way.

The tunnel was perfectly round, lined with pale cream stone about the height of two cats. The moss that grew halfway up the smooth sides told Fireheart that the tunnel ran with water during leaf-bare. Now it was dry, the bottom littered with leaves and Twoleg rubbish.