Fire and Ice (Warriors 3)

Tallstar stiffened. “Wait!” he yowled. “There might be hunting parties from the other Clans here!”

As soon as they heard him, the apprentices skidded to a halt and pelted back to join the Clan, their eyes still bright with exhilaration.

From a rock-strewn ridge Fireheart saw the dip in the ground that concealed WindClan’s camp. With a purr of delight Morningflower took her kit from the mouth of the tabby warrior and hurried toward the hollow. Tallstar flicked his tail and three warriors raced forward to escort her as she disappeared over the edge and down into the camp.

The WindClan leader paused while the rest of his Clan rushed into the sheltering bushes below. He turned to Fireheart and Graystripe, his eyes shining. “My Clan is grateful for your help,” he meowed. “You have both proved you are warriors worthy of StarClan. WindClan has come home, and it is time for you to return to yours.”

Fireheart felt a pang of disappointment. He’d wanted to see Morningflower settled in the nursery with her kit. But Tallstar was right: there was no need for them to stay here any longer.

Tallstar spoke again. “There may be hostile hunting parties around. Onewhisker and Deadfoot will escort you to Fourtrees.”

Fireheart bowed his head. “Thank you, Tallstar.”

Tallstar called to his warriors and gave them their orders. Then he turned his tired eyes once more to Fireheart. “You have served WindClan well. Tell Bluestar that WindClan will not forget it was ThunderClan who brought them home.”

Deadfoot padded away in the direction of Fourtrees. Fireheart and Graystripe walked after him with Onewhisker at their side. They stayed close together as they followed a narrow path through a solid mass of gorse that provided good shelter against the rain.

Suddenly Onewhisker stopped and sniffed the air. “Rabbit!” he called out joyfully before charging away into the gorse. Deadfoot stopped and waited. Fireheart could see a glint in the deputy’s tired eyes. There was a rush of pawsteps in the distance and the rustle of gorse, then silence.

A moment later Onewhisker returned with a large rabbit dangling from his jaws.

Graystripe leaned toward Fireheart. “A little better than the RiverClan warriors, eh?”

Fireheart purred in agreement.

Onewhisker dropped the fresh-kill on the ground. “Anyone hungry?”

They ate the rabbit gratefully. When he’d eaten his share, Fireheart sat up and licked his lips. He felt refreshed by the meal, but a weary coldness was beginning to nag at his bones, and his paws felt sore. If he and Graystripe followed the route they’d come, past Fourtrees, they still had a long way to go. What if they took a shortcut through RiverClan’s hunting grounds? After all, they were on a mission that had been agreed to, at the Gathering at least, by all the Clans. Could RiverClan really object if they passed through their territory? It wasn’t as if they were going to steal prey.

Fireheart looked around at his companions and meowed tentatively, “You know, it’d be quicker if we followed the river.”

Graystripe looked up from washing his paw. “But that would mean crossing into RiverClan territory.”

“We could follow the gorge,” Fireheart explained. “RiverClan doesn’t hunt there; it’s too steep for them to get down to the river.”

Graystripe gently rested a damp paw on the ground. “Even my claws ache,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t mind taking a shorter route.” He turned his yellow eyes hopefully to the WindClan deputy.

Deadfoot looked thoughtful. “Tallstar ordered us to travel with you to Fourtrees,” he meowed.

“If you don’t want to come with us, we’ll understand,” Fireheart answered quickly. “We’ll only be in RiverClan territory for a blink. I can’t see us meeting any trouble.”

Graystripe nodded, but Deadfoot shook his head. “We couldn’t let you go into RiverClan territory alone,” he meowed. “You’re exhausted. If you did meet trouble, you’re in no state to deal with it.”

“We won’t meet anyone!” Fireheart had convinced himself and was determined to convince Deadfoot too.

Deadfoot gazed at him with wise old eyes. “If we did go that way,” he mused, “it would let RiverClan know that WindClan is back.”

Fireheart pricked his ears in understanding. “And once they’ve smelled fresh WindClan scent, they might not be so keen to come rabbit hunting in your territory again.”

Onewhisker licked the last traces of fresh-kill from his lips and remarked, “It’ll mean we’ll be home before moonrise!”

“You just want to make sure you get a good nest in your den!” Deadfoot retorted. His voice was stern but there was a good-natured gleam in his eye.

“Then we’re going through RiverClan territory?” Fireheart asked.

“Yes,” decided Deadfoot. He changed direction and led the cats along an old badger trail that took them away from the barren uplands. Soon they were in RiverClan’s territory. Even through the wind and the rain, Fireheart could hear the roaring of the river as it crashed and thundered somewhere up ahead.

The cats followed the trail toward the noise. The path shrank until it was little more than a narrow strip of grass on the very edge of a deep gorge. On one side the land stretched upward, steep and rocky; on the other it plunged straight down. Fireheart could see the far side of the gorge only a few fox lengths away. The space looked tantalizingly narrow, and Fireheart wondered if he could leap the gap. Perhaps if he weren’t so tired and hungry…His paws prickled with fear at the thought of falling, but he couldn’t resist peering over the side.

Beneath his paws, the ground dropped away in a sheer cliff. Ferns clung to tiny ledges, their leaves glistening, not from rain, but from the spray of the swollen torrent that foamed at the bottom of the gorge.

Fireheart pulled back from the edge, the fur along his spine bristling with fear. Ahead of him Deadfoot, Onewhisker, and Graystripe plodded steadily on, heads down. They would have to follow this path until they could cut away from it, through the small strip of forest that stood between them and ThunderClan territory.

Fireheart stumbled as he hurried to catch up. Deadfoot’s ears were pricked and his tail flattened so that it almost dragged along the ground. Onewhisker was clearly nervous too; he kept looking sharply up the slope beside them as if he could hear something. Fireheart could hear nothing but the roaring of the river. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder, his eyes darting from side to side. The WindClan cats’ wariness was making him uneasy.

The steep slope began to flatten out until they could move farther away from the cliff edge. The rain was still driving into their faces, and the darkening sky told Fireheart that the sun was setting, but it would not be long now before they reached the forest. There would be more shelter there. The thought of food and a dry nest cheered Fireheart.

Suddenly a warning yowl rumbled in Deadfoot’s throat. Fireheart stiffened and tasted the air. A RiverClan patrol! A screech sounded from behind them, and the cats spun around to see six RiverClan warriors charging toward them. Fireheart’s fur stood on end with horror. The deep gorge with its raging waters was still dangerously close.

A dark brown RiverClan cat landed on

top of him. Fireheart rolled away from the gorge, kicking furiously with his back legs. He felt teeth bite into his shoulders and struggled under the weight of the hissing warrior. He scrabbled desperately on the sodden ground, trying to free himself. The RiverClan warrior raked his side with sharp claws. Fireheart twisted and bit into the fur of his attacker. He clamped his jaws tight and heard the warrior yowl, but the other cat’s claws only raked him more fiercely. “This will be the last time you set foot in RiverClan territory,” hissed the brown tom.

Around him Fireheart was aware of his companions struggling fiercely. He knew they were as exhausted as he was from the long trek. He could hear Graystripe yowling violently. Onewhisker hissed with pain and rage. Then, from the forest behind them, another sound reached Fireheart’s ears. It was full of fury—yet it filled Fireheart with a surge of hope. Tigerclaw’s war cry! Fireheart smelled the fast-approaching battle-scent of a ThunderClan patrol—Tigerclaw, Willowpelt, Whitestorm, and Sandpaw.

Yowling and spitting, the ThunderClan cats leaped into the fray. The brown tom released Fireheart and he quickly struggled to his paws. He watched as Tigerclaw pinned a gray tabby tom to the ground, giving a warning bite to the tom’s hind leg. The tom ran screeching away into the bushes. Tigerclaw whipped around and fixed his pale eyes on Leopardfur. The mottled RiverClan deputy was wrestling with Deadfoot. The lame warrior was no match for the ferocious RiverClan she-cat. Fireheart prepared to leap to the rescue, but Tigerclaw was ahead of him. The dark warrior dived forward and grasped Leopardfur’s wide shoulders. With a mighty yowl, he hauled her off the scrawny WindClan deputy.

Fireheart heard a vicious squeal behind him. He spun around to see Sandpaw locked in battle with another RiverClan she-cat. Twisting and tussling, the pair rolled over and over on the wet grass, spitting and clawing each other fiercely. Fireheart gasped. They were rolling toward the rocky edge of the gorge! One more roll and they would be over the side.