Rising Storm (Warriors 5)

Fireheart scrambled onto the ridge. “Wait!” he called to the fleeing cats. They stopped and turned to face him. Smoke stung Fireheart’s eyes as he peered at his Clanmates through the choking clouds. “Is any cat missing?” he demanded, scanning the faces.

“Where are Halftail and Patchpelt?” Cloudpaw’s voice rose in a terrified mew.

Fireheart saw heads turning to look questioningly at one another, and Smallear answered, “They’re not with me.”

“They must still be in camp!” meowed Whitestorm.

“Where’s Bramblekit?” Goldenflower’s desperate wail rose through the trees above the noise of the fire. “He was behind me when I was climbing the ravine!”

Fireheart’s mind reeled. This meant three of the Clan were missing. “I’ll find them,” he promised. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here any longer. Whitestorm and Darkstripe, make sure the rest of the Clan make it to the river.”

“You can’t go back down there!” Sandstorm protested, forcing her way through the cats to stand beside him. Her green eyes searched his desperately.

“I have to,” Fireheart replied.

“I’m coming too,” Sandstorm told him.

“No!” called Whitestorm. “We are short of warriors already. We need you to help get the Clan to the river.” Fireheart nodded in agreement.

“Then I’ll come!”

Fireheart stared in horror as Cinderpelt limped forward. “I’m no warrior,” she mewed. “I’d be no use anyway if we met an enemy patrol.”

“No way!” Fireheart spat. He could not let Cinderpelt risk her life. Then he saw the matted pelt of Yellowfang as she shouldered her way through the crowd.

“I may be old, but I’m steadier on my paws than you,” the old medicine cat told Cinderpelt. “The Clan will need your healing skills. I’ll go with Fireheart. You stay with the Clan.”

Cinderpelt opened her mouth, but Fireheart snapped, “There’s no time to argue. Yellowfang, come with me. The rest of you, head for the river.”

He turned before Cinderpelt could argue and began to pick his way back down the ravine into the smoke and heat below.

Fireheart was terrified, but he forced himself to keep running when he reached the bottom of the ravine. He could hear Yellowfang gasping behind him. The smoke made every breath painful, even for his young lungs. Bright flames flickered just beyond the wall of the camp, tearing greedily at the carefully woven ferns, but they hadn’t reached the clearing yet. The elders’ den was nearest, and Fireheart struggled half-blind toward it. He could hear the crackling of flames as they licked at the far side of the fallen oak. The heat here was so intense, it felt as though the fire would burst into the camp at any moment.

Fireheart saw the shape of Halftail slumped below a branch. Patchpelt lay beside him, his jaws buried in Halftail’s scruff as if he’d been trying to drag his friend to safety when he collapsed.

Fireheart stopped in dismay, but Yellowfang had already rushed past him and began dragging Halftail’s body toward the camp entrance.

“Don’t just stand there,” she growled through a mouthful of fur. “Help me get them out of here.”

Fireheart grasped Patchpelt in his jaws and pulled him across the smoke-filled clearing and into the tunnel. He struggled not to cough as he tugged Patchpelt through the gorse, its sharp spines clutching at the old cat’s matted fur. Fireheart reached the bottom of the ravine and started to scramble upward. Patchpelt twitched in his jaws, and Fireheart felt his body convulse as he retched in a series of violent spasms. Fireheart pushed on up the steep slope, his neck aching from the weight of the unconscious cat.

At the top he dragged Patchpelt onto the flat rocks, and the old tom lay there, wheezing and helpless. Then Fireheart turned to look for Yellowfang. The medicine cat was just struggling out of the gorse tunnel, her flanks heaving as she fought against the deadly smoke. The trees that had sheltered the Clan were being swallowed up by fire, their trunks enveloped in flames. Fireheart saw Yellowfang stare up at him with Halftail clutched in her jaws, her orange eyes huge. He flexed his hind legs, ready to jump down the rocks toward her, but a terrified mewling made him look up. Peering through the billowing smoke, he saw Goldenflower’s kit clinging to the branches of a small tree that sprouted from the side of the ravine. The bark of the tree was already smoldering, and as Bramblekit cried desperately, the trunk burst into flame.

Without stopping to think, Fireheart sprang at the blazing tree. He dug his claws into the trunk above the flames and hauled himself up to the kit. The fire raced up the trunk behind him, licking at the bark as Fireheart reached forward, wobbling, and lunged for the kit. The tiny tom was clinging to a branch, his eyes tightly shut and his mouth open wide in a silent scream. Fireheart grabbed him in his jaws and almost lost his balance as Bramblekit let go immediately and swung down into thin air. With his teeth still embedded in Bramblekit’s scruff, Fireheart managed to keep a grip on the rough bark. There was no way he could climb back down the trunk now. The flames had taken too strong a hold. He would have to go as far along the branch as he could, then jump down to the ground. Clenching his jaws, and blocking out Bramblekit’s screams, Fireheart crept away from the trunk.

The branch dipped and swayed under his weight, but Fireheart forced himself to keep going. One more pawstep and he tensed, ready to jump. Behind him flames scorched his pelt, filling his nostrils with the bitter smell of burning fur. The branch dipped again, this time with an ominous splintering sound. StarClan help me! Fireheart prayed silently. Shutting his eyes, he flexed his hind legs and leaped toward the ground.

Behind him a loud crack split the air. Fireheart landed with a thud that almost knocked the breath out of him. Scrambling to find a clawhold on the side of the ravine, he twisted his head around. To his horror he saw that the fire had burned right through the trunk, sending the whole tree toppling into the ravine. Alive with flame, the tree crashed away from the terrified cat, hiding the entrance to the camp behind a wall of burning branches. There was no way Fireheart could reach Yellowfang now.

CHAPTER 24

“Yellowfang!”

Fireheart dropped Bramblekit and yowled the medicine cat’s name. The blood pounded in his ears as he listened for her reply, but he heard nothing except the dreadful crackling of the flames.

Bramblekit crouched at his paws, pressing his small body against Fireheart’s legs. Pulsing with fear and frustration, and dimly aware of the pain from his singed flanks, Fireheart grabbed him and raced up the slope back to Patchpelt.

The old tom hadn’t moved. Fireheart saw his chest weakly rising and falling and knew that Patchpelt would not be able to run to safety. He lowered Bramblekit onto the ground. “Follow me!” he yowled before clamping his tired jaws onto Patchpelt’s scruff. With a final glance down the burning slope, Fireheart dragged the black-and-white tom away from the ravine into the trees. Bramblekit stumbled after them, too shocked to mew, his eyes huge and unfocused. Fireheart wished he were somehow able to carry both of them, but he couldn’t leave Patchpelt to die where he lay. Somehow Bramblekit would have to find the strength to survive the terrifying journey on his own paws.

Fireheart followed the trail of the other cats blindly, hardly aware of the forest around him, even though he turned back every few moments to check that Bramblekit was still keeping up. His last sight of the ravine filled his mind, a terrifying trough of flame and smoke that engulfed the camp, his home. And of Yellowfang and Halftail, there had been no sign at all.

They caught up with the rest of ThunderClan at Sunningrocks. Fireheart laid Patchpelt gently on the flat surface of the stone. Bramblekit raced straight to Goldenflower, who grasped him by his scruff and gave him a sharp, angry shake, choked by the purring that rose from her chest. Then she dropped him and began washing his smoke-stained fur with furious laps that softened to gentle strokes. The pale ginger queen glanced up at Fireheart, her eyes glistening with a gratitude she could not begin to put into words.

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nbsp; Fireheart blinked and looked away. It was beginning to dawn on him that Yellowfang might be lost because he stopped to save Tigerclaw’s son. He shook his head violently. He couldn’t think about that. His Clan needed him. He gazed around at the horror-struck cats that crouched on the smooth stones. Did they think they were safe here? They should have kept going to the river. Fireheart narrowed his eyes, trying to spot Sandstorm among the huddled shapes, but an infinite weariness made his legs feel heavier than stone, and he couldn’t find the strength to get up and look for her.

He felt Patchpelt stir beside him. The old tom lifted his head, gasping for air, before collapsing into a coughing fit that brought Cinderpelt hobbling stiffly out from the throng of cats. Fireheart watched as she pressed her paws heavily on Patchpelt’s chest, desperately trying to clear his lungs.

Patchpelt stopped coughing. He lay still, strangely silent now that he was not even wheezing, and Cinderpelt looked up, her eyes brimming with sorrow. “He’s dead,” she murmured.

Shocked mews rippled back across the rock. Fireheart stared at Cinderpelt in disbelief. How could he have brought Patchpelt this far, only for him to die? And on almost the exact spot where Silverstream had passed into the paws of StarClan. He looked anxiously at Cinderpelt, knowing she must be sharing the same thought. Her eyes were shadowed with grief and her whiskers quivered as she leaned down to close the old tom’s eyes gently. Fireheart feared the pain would be more than she could bear, but as the other elders padded forward to share tongues with Patchpelt, the gray medicine cat sat up and raised her eyes to Fireheart. “We’ve lost another cat,” she whispered, her voice ringing hollow with disbelief. “But my grief won’t help the Clan.”

“You’re beginning to sound as strong as Yellowfang,” Fireheart told her softly.

Cinderpelt opened her eyes wide. “Yellowfang! Where is she?”

Fireheart felt a pain in his chest, so sharp it was as if a splinter from the burning tree had lodged in his heart. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I lost her in the smoke while she was rescuing Halftail. I was going to go back, but the kit…” His voice trailed away and he could only stare at the gray medicine cat as her eyes clouded with unimaginable pain. What was happening to their Clan? Did StarClan truly want to kill them all?

Bramblekit began coughing, and Cinderpelt roused herself, shaking her head as if emerging from icy water. Fireheart watched her hobble to the kit’s side and bend her head, vigorously licking his chest to stimulate his breathing. The coughing died away into a rhythmic wheezing that in turn eased as Cinderpelt worked.

Fireheart sat still and listened to the forest. He could feel his fur prickling in the sultry air. A breeze rustled through the trees, blowing from the direction of the camp. Fireheart opened his mouth, trying to distinguish fresh smoke from the stench of his singed fur. Was the fire still burning? Then he realized he could see the sky filling with clouds of smoke as the breeze drove the flames steadily toward Sunningrocks. His ears flattened as he heard the roaring of the fire rise above the soft murmuring of the leaves.

“It’s coming this way,” he yowled, his voice sore and harsh after breathing in the smoke. “We must keep going to the river. We’ll only be safe if we cross to the other side. The fire won’t reach us there.”

The cats looked up, startled, their eyes gleaming dimly through the night. The light from the fire was already shining through the trees. Clouds of smoke began to billow down onto Sunningrocks, and the sound of the flames grew louder, fanned by the rising wind.

Without warning the rocks and the forest were illuminated by a blinding flash. A thunderous crack exploded over the heads of the cats, making them flatten themselves against the rock. Fireheart lifted his eyes toward the sky. Behind the billowing smoke, he could see rain clouds rolling in overhead. Age-old terror mingled with relief as he realized that the storm had broken at last.

“Rain is coming!” he yowled, encouraging his cowering Clanmates. “It will put out the fire! But we must go now or we won’t outrun the flames!”

Brackenfur pushed himself up from the rock first. As understanding rippled through the rest of the Clan, the other cats stood up too. Their horror of the fire outweighed their instinctive fear of the raging skies. They shifted restlessly across the rock face, not sure which way to run, and to Fireheart’s relief he saw Sandstorm among them, her tail fluffed up and her ears flat back. The cats started to move farther apart, revealing Bluestar sitting motionless halfway up the rock, her face tilted to the stars. A brilliant fork of lightning split the sky, but Bluestar remained still. Was she praying to StarClan? Fireheart wondered in disbelief.

“This way!” he ordered. He signaled with his tail as another crash of thunder drowned out his voice.

The Clan began to stream down the rock toward the trail that led to the river. Fireheart could see the flames flickering between the trees now. A rabbit pelted past him, terrified. It didn’t even seem to notice the cats, weaving through them as it hurtled from the fire and the storm and slipped under the rock, instinctively seeking out the sanctuary of the ancient stone. But Fireheart knew that the flames would soon engulf this part of the forest, and he didn’t want to risk losing any more cats to such a terrible death.

“Hurry!” he called, and the cats broke into a run. Mousefur and Longtail were carrying Willowpelt’s kits once more, while Cloudpaw and Dustpelt dragged Patchpelt’s body between them, the limp black-and-white shape jerking awkwardly over the ground. Whitestorm and Brindleface flanked Bluestar, encouraging the ThunderClan leader onward with gentle nudges.

Fireheart was turning to look for Sandstorm when he saw Speckletail struggling with her kit grasped in her jaws. The kit was well grown and Speckletail was not as young as the other queens. Fireheart raced over and took the kit from her. Speckletail flashed him a grateful look and started running.

The fire was beside them now that they had turned toward the river. Fireheart kept one eye on the advancing wall of flames as he urged the Clan onward. Around them the trees began to sway as the storm winds swelled and began to stir the burning forest, fanning the flames toward them. The river was in sight, but they still had to cross it, and few of the ThunderClan cats had done much swimming. There was no time to go farther downstream to the stepping-stones.

As they hurtled across the RiverClan scentline, Fireheart felt the heat of the fire against his flank and a cruel roaring that was even louder than the Thunderpath. He raced forward to lead the way down to the riverbank and skidded to a halt where the forest floor gave way to the pebbly shore. The smooth stones glowed silver as lightning flashed once more, but the thunder that followed was hardly audible above the roaring of the fire. The Clan stumbled after Fireheart, their eyes filled with a new terror as they stared at the fast-flowing river. Fireheart felt his spirit quail at the thought of persuading his water-shy Clanmates to enter the river. But behind them the fire tore through the trees in relentless pursuit, and he knew there was no choice.

CHAPTER 25

Fireheart dropped Speckletail’s kit at Whitestorm’s paws and turned to face the Clan. “It’s shallow enough to wade most of the way,” he yowled. “Much shallower than usual. There’s a place in the middle where you’ll have to swim, but you’ll make it.” The cats looked at him with horrified eyes. “You have to trust me!” he urged.

Whitestorm met Fireheart’s gaze for a long heartbeat, then nodded calmly. He picked up Speckletail’s kit and waded into the river until he stood up to his belly in the dark water. Then he turned and flicked his tail for the others to follow.

Fireheart felt a familiar scent in his nostrils, and a soft ginger pelt brushed against his shoulder. He looked down into Sandstorm’s bright green gaze.

“You think it’s safe?” she murmured, pointing with her nose to the fast-flowing river.

“Yes, I promise,” Fireheart replied, wishing with all his heart that they were somewhere else, far from this flame-threatened shore. He blinked slowly at the steadfast warrior b

eside him, trying to comfort her with his gaze when really he wanted to bury his muzzle in her fur and hide until this nightmare was over.

Sandstorm nodded as if she could read his mind. Then she raced through the shallows and plunged into the deep central channel just as lightning lit up the rippling water. Fireheart’s chest tightened as the she-cat lost her footing on the pebbles and disappeared under the surface. He felt his heart stop beating and his ears roar like thunder as he waited for her to reappear.

Then Sandstorm bobbed up, coughing and thrashing with her paws, but swimming steadily toward the far shore. She struggled out on the other side, her coat dark with water and clinging to her body, and called to her Clanmates, “Just keep your paws moving and you’ll be okay!”

Fireheart’s chest ached with pride. He stared at the lithe shape, silhouetted against the trees on the other shore, and could hardly stop himself from leaping into the water and swimming to her side. But he had to see the rest of the Clan across first, and he forced himself to watch his Clanmates as they began to plunge headlong into the river.

Dustpelt and Cloudpaw dragged Patchpelt’s body to the water’s edge. Dustpelt looked down at it, then gazed across the river, his expression bleak at the impossibility of carrying the dead cat to the other side when it would be difficult enough to swim alone.

Fireheart padded to the warrior’s side. “Leave him here,” he murmured, even though the prospect of leaving another cat behind tore at his heart. “We can come back and bury him when the fire has passed.”