A Dangerous Path (Warriors 4)

Sandstorm said nothing. Fireheart saw her give him a quick glance and then look away. There was longing in her eyes, but it was mingled with uneasiness, and he remembered how she had resented deceiving Bluestar.

Does Sandstorm think I’m a traitor too? he thought desperately.

After Fireheart had sent Cinderpelt to Bluestar, he headed for the warriors’ den. He felt as if his legs could hardly hold him up, and he could think of nothing except sinking into the soft darkness of sleep. His heart sank when he saw Longtail stalking across the clearing toward him.

“I want a word with you, Fireheart,” he growled.

Fireheart sat down. “What is it?”

“You ordered my apprentice to go with you this morning.”

“Yes, and I told you why.”

“He didn’t like it, but he did his duty,” Longtail meowed harshly.

That was true, Fireheart reflected. He had admired the apprentice’s courage in a tough situation, but he wasn’t sure why Longtail was making such a fuss now.

“I think it’s time he was made a warrior,” Longtail went on. “In fact, Fireheart, he should have been a warrior long ago.”

“Yes, I know,” Fireheart replied. “You’re right, Longtail, he should.”

Longtail looked taken aback at his ready agreement. “So what are you going to do about it?” he blustered.

“Right now, nothing,” Fireheart meowed. “Don’t flatten your ears at me, Longtail. Just think, will you? Bluestar is distressed at the moment. She didn’t like what happened this morning, and she won’t want to think about promoting apprentices. No, wait.” He flicked his tail to silence Longtail as the pale warrior opened his mouth to protest. “Leave it with me. Sooner or later Bluestar has to realize that what happened was for the best. Then I’ll talk to her about making Swiftpaw a warrior, I promise.”

Longtail sniffed. Fireheart could see he wasn’t happy, but he couldn’t think of any reason to object. “All right,” the pale tabby warrior mewed. “But it had better be soon.”

He stalked off again, leaving Fireheart to head for his nest. As he curled into the soft moss, shutting his eyes tight against the early morning light, he couldn’t help worrying about the four older apprentices. Cloudpaw, Brightpaw, and Thornpaw all deserved to be warriors as well as Swiftpaw. And the Clan desperately needed them to take on full warrior duties. But in her present mood, convinced that she was surrounded by traitors, Bluestar would never agree to give them warrior status.

Fireheart’s dreams were dark and confused, and he woke to find that a cat was nudging him. A voice meowed, “Wake up, Fireheart!”

Blinking, he focused his eyes on Cinderpelt’s face. Her gray fur was ruffled and her eyes wide with anxiety; Fireheart was awake in a heartbeat.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s Bluestar,” Cinderpelt replied. “I can’t find her anywhere!”

CHAPTER 15

Fireheart sprang to his paws. “Tell me what happened.”

“When I saw her earlier this morning, I took her poppy seeds to calm her down,” Cinderpelt explained. “But when I went to her den just now, she wasn’t there, and she hadn’t eaten the poppy seeds. I tried the elders’ den and the nursery, but she isn’t there either. She isn’t anywhere in camp, Fireheart.”

“Did anyone see her leave?”

“I haven’t asked yet. I came to tell you first.”

“Then I’ll get the apprentices to search, and find out if—”

“Bluestar’s not a kit, you know.” The interruption came from Whitestorm, who had padded into the warriors’ den in time to hear Cinderpelt’s news. “She might have gone on patrol. For all you know, other cats are with her.” He spoke calmly as he bared his teeth in a yawn and settled into his nest.

Fireheart nodded uncertainly. What Whitestorm said was sensible, but he would have liked to be sure. After the state Bluestar had been in that morning, she could be anywhere in the forest. She might even have gone to RiverClan in search of her kits.

“There’s probably no need to worry,” Fireheart reassured Cinderpelt, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “But we’ll look anyway, and find out if any cat has seen her.”

Leaving the den, he spotted Fernpaw and Ashpaw sharing tongues near the blackened remains of the tree stump outside the apprentices’ den. Quickly Fireheart explained that he had a message for Bluestar, but he wasn’t sure where she was. The two apprentices dashed off willingly to look for her.

“You go and ask if any cat has seen her,” he suggested to Cinderpelt, who had followed him out of the den. “I’ll go up the ravine and see if I can pick up her scent. I might be able to track her.”

Privately he didn’t have much hope. While he had slept, clouds had covered the sky and a thin rain was drizzling down. It was not good weather for following scent. Before he could leave, Fireheart noticed that Sandstorm was just returning to camp, along with Cloudpaw and Brindleface. All three of them carried fresh-kill, which they went over to drop on the pile.

Fireheart raced up to them, with Cinderpelt limping behind. “Sandstorm,” he meowed, “have you seen Bluestar?”

Sandstorm swiped her tongue around her mouth to remove the prey juices. “No. Why?”

“She isn’t here,” mewed Cinderpelt.

Sandstorm’s eyes widened. “Are you surprised? After what happened this morning? She must feel like she’s losing control of her Clan.”

That was so close to the truth that Fireheart didn’t know how to answer.

“We’re going out again,” meowed Cloudpaw. “We’ll keep a lookout for her.”

“Okay, thanks.” Fireheart blinked gratefully at his apprentice.

The young white tom raced off again, with the two warriors following more slowly. Brindleface paused to meow, “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Fireheart,” as she left, but Sandstorm didn’t look back.

Fireheart’s problems were about to overwhelm him, but then he felt Cinderpelt’s breath soft against his ear. “Don’t worry, Fireheart,” she murmured. “Sandstorm’s still your friend. You need to accept that she doesn’t always see things the way you do.”

“You don’t either.” Fireheart sighed.

Cinderpelt let out an affectionate purr. “I’

m still your friend too,” she told him. “And I know you’ve done what you believe to be right. Now, let’s see what we can do to find Bluestar.”

By the time the sun set, Bluestar was still missing. Fireheart had tracked her as far as the top of the ravine, but after that, with the rain coming down more heavily, the scent was lost among the tang of charred branches and the musty smell of fallen leaves.

Too anxious to sleep, Fireheart put himself on watch. The night was far gone, and the moon was setting when he spotted movement by the camp entrance. The last rays of moonlight picked out a silver-gray coat as Bluestar limped back into the camp. Her fur was soaked, plastered to her body, and her head was low. She looked old, exhausted, defeated.

Fireheart hurried across to her. “Bluestar, where have you been?”

The Clan leader raised her head and looked at him. A jolt ran through Fireheart; her eyes, faintly glowing in the dim light, were clear and bright in spite of her exhaustion. “You sound like a queen scolding her kit,” she rasped, an edge of humor in her voice. She jerked her head in the direction of her den. “Come with me.”

Fireheart obeyed, pausing only to snatch a vole from the pile of fresh-kill. Bluestar needed to eat, wherever she had been. When he reached Bluestar’s den, his leader was seated in her mossy nest, washing herself with long, careful strokes. Fireheart would have liked to sit beside her and share tongues with her, but after their last encounter he did not dare. Instead he dropped the vole in front of her and respectfully dipped his head. “What happened, Bluestar?” he asked.

Bluestar stretched her neck to sniff the vole, half turned away from it, and then began to gulp it down as if she had suddenly realized how hungry she was. She did not answer until she had finished it.

“I went to speak with StarClan,” she announced, flicking the last traces of vole from her whiskers.

Fireheart stared. “To Highstones? On your own?”

“Of course. Which of this pack of traitors could I ask to escort me?”