Rising Storm (Warriors 5)

“Fireheart,” Yellowfang murmured.

Fireheart paused. “Yes?”

“Thank you for bringing me to ThunderClan. Tell Bluestar I have always been grateful for the home she gave me. This is a good place to die. I only regret that I will miss watching you become what StarClan has destined you to be.” The old medicine cat’s voice trailed away, and her flanks heaved with the effort of sucking air into her smoke-scorched lungs.

“Yellowfang,” Fireheart pleaded. “Don’t die!”

Her painful breathing clawed at his heart, and he realized there was nothing he could do. “Don’t be afraid of StarClan.

They will understand about Brokentail,” he promised wretchedly. “You will be honored by our warrior ancestors for your loyalty to your Clanmates and for your endless courage. So many cats owe their lives to you. Cinderpelt would have died after her accident if you had not tended to her. And when there was greencough, you fought day and night….”

Fireheart could not stop the words from tumbling out even though he knew the old medicine cat’s breathing had faded into everlasting silence. Yellowfang was dead.

CHAPTER 28

With a tender lick, Fireheart closed the medicine cat’s eyes for the last time. Then he lowered his head onto her shoulder and felt the warmth fade from her body.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, listening to his heart beating alone in the shadowy cavern. He thought for a moment he caught the familiar scent of Spottedleaf, drifting into the den on the rain-chilled breeze. Had she come to guide Yellowfang to StarClan? Fireheart let the soothing thought flow through him and felt sleep swell like clouds at the edges of his mind.

“She will be safe with us.” Spottedleaf’s gentle mew ruffled his ear fur, and Fireheart lifted his head and looked around.

“Fireheart?” Graystripe called from the entrance. Fireheart struggled to sit up.

“I’ve buried Halftail,” the gray warrior meowed.

“Yellowfang’s dead,” Fireheart whispered. His hollow mew echoed off the stone walls. “She was alive when I found her, but she died.”

“Did she say anything?”

Fireheart closed his eyes. He would never share Yellowfang’s tragic secret with any cat, not even his oldest friend. “Just that…she was thankful Bluestar let her live in ThunderClan.”

Graystripe padded into the cave and bent his head to lick the old medicine cat’s cheek. “When I left, I never thought I wouldn’t speak to her again,” he murmured, his voice thick with sorrow. “Shall we bury her?”

“No,” Fireheart meowed firmly, his mind suddenly clear. Spottedleaf’s words echoed in his mind: She’ll be safe with us. “She was a warrior as well as a medicine cat. She will have her vigil and we can bury her at dawn.”

“But we must get back to the RiverClan camp and tell the others what has happened,” Graystripe reminded him.

“Then I’ll come back tonight and sit vigil with her,” Fireheart replied.

The two friends trekked back through the devastated forest in silence. The gray afternoon light was fading by the time they padded into the RiverClan camp. Groups of cats lay at the edge of the clearing, sharing tongues after their evening meal. The ThunderClan cats crouched in an isolated huddle at one side. As soon as Fireheart and Graystripe appeared, Cinderpelt struggled to her paws and limped toward them.

Bluestar rose too from where she lay beside Whitestorm. She brushed past Cinderpelt and reached the returning warriors first, her eyes filled with desperate hope. “Did you find Yellowfang and Halftail?”

Fireheart saw Cinderpelt hanging back, her ears pricked, as desperate for news as her Clan leader. “They’re both dead,” he told them. Fresh pain filled his heart when he saw Cinderpelt sway on her paws. The little cat backed away unsteadily, her eyes clouded. Fireheart wanted to go to her but Bluestar stood in his way. The ThunderClan leader’s blue eyes showed no pain. Instead they grew hard and cold, and a shiver ran down Fireheart’s spine.

“Spottedleaf told me that fire would save the Clan!” she hissed. “But it has destroyed us.”

“No,” Fireheart began, but he could not find the words to comfort his leader. His gaze followed Cinderpelt as she stumbled back to the others. To Fireheart’s relief, Sandstorm hurried forward to meet her, pressing her flank against Cinderpelt to support the medicine cat’s thin gray body. He looked back at Bluestar, his heart sinking at her stony expression.

“ThunderClan will return home tonight,” she decided in a voice like ice.

“But the woods are empty. The camp is ruined!” protested Graystripe.

“It doesn’t matter. We are strangers here. We should be back in our own territory,” spat Bluestar.

“Then I’ll escort you,” Graystripe offered.

Fireheart glanced at his friend and suddenly understood the longing in his eyes. Graystripe wanted to go home. The realization flooded Fireheart’s mind like a shooting star illuminating the night sky. Fireheart looked expectantly at Bluestar. Surely she could see Graystripe’s desire to return to ThunderClan?

“Why would we need an escort?” demanded Bluestar, her eyes narrowing.

“Well, perhaps I could help you rebuild the camp,” Graystripe suggested uncertainly. “Maybe stay for a while…” He faltered as Bluestar’s eyes flashed angrily.

“Are you trying to say that you want to come back to ThunderClan?” she spat. “Well, you can’t!”

Fireheart stared at her in stunned silence.

“You chose to be loyal to your kits rather than your Clan,” the leader snarled. “Now you must live with your decision.”

Graystripe flinched. Fireheart gazed at the old leader in disbelief as she turned and called to her Clan, “Get ready to leave. We are returning home!”

The ThunderClan cats leaped to their paws at once, but Fireheart felt nothing but disappointment and anger as he watched Bluestar gather her Clan around her.

The leader’s gaze was fixed on a point beyond the cats at the edge of the clearing. Mistyfoot and Stonefur stood there, watching the ThunderClan cats. Fireheart saw sorrow pass through Bluestar’s eyes as she stared at her grown kits. Bluestar knew better than any cat what it was like to be torn between Clan and kin. She had once chosen to be loyal to her Clan rather than her kits, and it had caused her more pain than she would have wished on an enemy.

With a flash of insight, Fireheart thought he understood her reaction to Graystripe’s request. It was not the gray warrior she was angry at, but herself. She still regretted leaving her kits all those years ago. Part of her was trying to make sure that Graystripe didn’

t make the same mistake.

The ThunderClan cats circled impatiently in the growing darkness, and Bluestar padded toward Crookedstar.

Fireheart turned and licked Graystripe’s shoulder. “Bluestar has her reasons for saying those things,” he murmured. “She’s suffering at the moment, but she’ll recover. And maybe then you can come home.”

Graystripe lifted his eyes and stared hopefully at Fireheart. “You think so?”

“Yes,” answered Fireheart, praying to StarClan that it was true.

He hurried after Bluestar and caught up in time to hear the ThunderClan leader thank Crookedstar formally for RiverClan’s generosity. Leopardfur stood beside them, gazing coolly at the ThunderClan cats.

“ThunderClan is in your debt,” Bluestar meowed, dipping her head.

Fireheart saw Leopardfur narrow her eyes at Bluestar’s words, her emerald eyes glittering. His paws prickled warily. What payment would RiverClan demand for this kindness? he wondered. He knew Leopardfur well enough to suspect that she would ask for something in return.

He followed Bluestar as she stalked to the head of her Clan and led them out of the RiverClan camp. Fireheart glanced backward and saw Graystripe standing alone in the shadows, his eyes filled with pain as he watched his former Clanmates walk away.

Fireheart sighed inwardly as Smallear hesitated again at the edge of the river. It was swollen from the rain, but Darkstripe and Whitestorm had already crossed and were waiting in the shallows at the other side. Dustpelt swam beside Fernpaw as the apprentice struggled to keep her little gray head above water. Sandstorm had crossed with Cinderpelt. The pale orange warrior had not left the medicine cat’s side since Fireheart had returned with the news about Yellowfang.

“Hurry up!” ordered Bluestar, snapping impatiently at Smallear.

The gray tom glanced over his shoulder in surprise at her harsh tone, and then hurled himself into the dark water. Fireheart tensed his muscles, ready to spring to the rescue, but there was no need. Longtail and Mousefur appeared on either side of the frantically splashing elder, buoying him up with their strong shoulders.