Rising Storm (Warriors 5)

Fireheart glanced awkwardly away. He felt he should share his news about Cloudpaw with Bluestar first.

“Whitestorm organized the evening patrol in your absence,” Mousefur went on.

“Er…good…thanks,” Fireheart stammered. Mousefur dipped her head politely and padded away.

As Fireheart watched her go, he tried to tell himself that Cloudpaw’s loss didn’t mean he was alone in the Clan. Most of the cats seemed to accept him as deputy, despite the broken naming ritual. Fireheart just wished he could be sure that StarClan felt the same way, and his earlier fears clouded his mind like noisy fluttering crows. Was Cloudpaw’s loss a sign that StarClan wanted to punish ThunderClan by depriving it of a potential warrior? Even worse, were the Clan’s warrior ancestors signaling that kittypets didn’t belong in the Clan?

Fireheart felt as if his legs were about to give way under the weight of his anxiety. He dropped his offering on the pile of fresh-kill and looked around. Sandstorm was lying beside Runningwind, a sparrow in her paws. Fireheart flinched as the ginger she-cat cast him a reproachful glance. He knew he would have to apologize, but first he had to tell Bluestar about Cloudpaw.

Fireheart crossed to the leader’s den and called a greeting at the entrance. He was surprised when Whitestorm’s voice answered. He poked his head through the lichen and saw Bluestar curled in her nest, her head up and eyes shining as she shared tongues with Whitestorm. For once the ThunderClan leader looked like any other warrior, enjoying the company of a trusted friend. And as he saw the contented expression on Bluestar’s face, Fireheart shied away from disturbing her with his bad news. He’d tell her later.

“Yes, what is it?” asked Bluestar.

“I…I just wondered if you were hungry,” Fireheart stammered.

“Oh.” Bluestar sounded puzzled. “Thank you, but Whitestorm brought me something.” She dipped her head toward the half-eaten pigeon that lay on the floor of her den.

“Er…fine, I’ll leave you to eat it then.” Fireheart quickly backed out before she could ask what he had been up to. He returned to the fresh-kill pile, picked up the mouse he’d caught earlier, and carried it toward the nettle clump where Sandstorm and Runningwind lay.

Sandstorm looked away when she saw him coming and busied herself with tearing the wings off her fresh-kill. Fireheart dropped his mouse onto the ground.

“Hi, there,” Runningwind greeted him. “I thought you were going to miss mealtime.”

Fireheart tried to purr a friendly reply, but his answer came out hoarsely. “Busy day.” Runningwind glanced at Sandstorm, who was still ignoring the Clan deputy, and Fireheart thought he saw the lean warrior’s whiskers twitch.

“Sorry about earlier,” Fireheart whispered to Sandstorm.

“So you should be,” she muttered, not looking up.

“You’ve been a good friend,” Fireheart persisted. “I’m sorry I made you think I don’t appreciate you.”

“Yeah, well, next time try thinking beyond your own whiskers!”

“Are we friends again?” Fireheart meowed.

“We always were,” she replied simply.

Relieved, Fireheart lay down beside her and began to crunch on his mouse. Runningwind hadn’t uttered a word, but Fireheart noticed that his eyes were glowing with amusement. His interaction with Sandstorm was obviously attracting attention from the other warriors. Fireheart felt a self-conscious prickle ripple through his fur, and he looked awkwardly around the clearing.

Darkstripe was sitting in front of the apprentices’ den talking to Ashpaw. Fireheart wondered why he was speaking to Dustpelt’s apprentice instead of sharing a meal with the other warriors. Ashpaw was shaking his head, but the dark tabby warrior carried on talking until Ashpaw lowered his eyes and began to pad across the clearing toward the nettle patch.

Fireheart’s ears twitched. From the way Darkstripe was watching the young gray apprentice, he could tell something was up.

Ashpaw stopped in front of Fireheart, his small body stiff and his tail flicking nervously.

“Is something wrong?” Fireheart asked.

“I was just wondering where Cloudpaw was,” mewed Ashpaw. “He said he’d be back by mealtime.”

Fireheart gazed past the apprentice at the dark tabby who watching them closely, his amber eyes glinting with undisguised interest. “Tell Darkstripe that if he wants to know, he should ask me himself!” he snapped.

Ashpaw flinched. “I…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Darkstripe told me…” The apprentice shuffled his paws and suddenly looked up, staring Fireheart straight in the eye. “Actually, it’s not just Darkstripe who wants to know. I’m worried, too. Cloudpaw promised he’d be back by now.” The gray apprentice hesitated, glancing away, and finished, “Whatever else he might do, Cloudpaw always keeps his word.”

Fireheart was amazed. It had never occurred to him that Cloudpaw could have earned the respect and loyalty of his denmates like any other warrior. But what did Ashpaw mean by “whatever else he might do”?

CHAPTER 13

“Is Cloudpaw okay?” asked Ashpaw.

Fireheart blinked while he searched for the right words to explain Cloudpaw’s disappearance. “I believe Cloudpaw has left the Clan,” he murmured at last. There was no point trying to hide what had happened.

Ashpaw’s eyes grew wide with shock and bewilderment. “L-left?” he echoed. “But he…he would have told us. I mean, I never thought he’d stay there!”

“Stay where?” asked Runningwind sharply, sitting up. “What’s going on?”

Ashpaw glanced guiltily at Fireheart, knowing he had betrayed his friend’s secret.

“Go back to your supper,” Fireheart meowed gently. “You can tell Darkstripe that Cloudpaw has returned to his kittypet life. There’s no need for secrets anymore.”

“I just can’t believe he’s actually left,” mewed Ashpaw sadly. “I’ll really miss him.” He turned and plodded back to the apprentices’ den, where Darkstripe sat waiting like a hungry owl. The news would be all through the camp by sunset.

“Where has Cloudpaw gone?” demanded Runningwind, turning to Fireheart.

“He’s gone back to live with Twolegs,” Fireheart replied, each word dropping like a stone into the sultry forest air. His ears still rang with Cloudpaw’s heartbreaking cries for help, but Fireheart couldn’t see that it would do any good to start making excuses for his errant apprentice. How could he convince the Clan that Cloudpaw had been taken against his will, when they would all remember that the apprentice had been growing fat from Twoleg offerings?

Runningwind frowned. “Darkstripe is going to enjoy hearing that.”

The tabby warrior was already staring triumphantly across the clearing as he leaned down to listen to Ashpaw’s news. With a sinking feeling Fireheart watched as he trotted over to Longtail and Smallear, and the news of Cloudpaw’s disappearance began to spread through the Clan like tendrils of dark, clinging ivy. Smallear squeezed between the branches of the oak to share the news with the other elders, while Longtail nodded at his former mentor and headed toward the nursery. Just as Fireheart had feared, Darkstripe was making sure the whole camp knew that Fireheart’s kin had returned to his kittypet roots.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” asked Sandstorm, her voice sharp with indignation. “Are you going to leave it to Darkstripe to tell the Clan about Cloudpaw?”

Fireheart shook his head. “How can I fight the truth?” he meowed sadly.

“You could speak to the Clan!” snapped Sandstorm. “Explain what really happened.”

“Cloudpaw rejected Clan life as soon as he started accepting kittypet food,” Fireheart pointed out.

“Well, you should at least tell Bluestar,” Sandstorm urged.

“Too late,” murmured Runningwind.

Fireheart followed the brown warrior’s gaze and saw Darkstripe padding toward Bluestar’s den. She was going to have her evening disturbed, when she needed peace more than anything else. Fireheart thras

hed his tail at Darkstripe’s selfish spite, although he knew that most of his anger was directed at Cloudpaw.

“Come on; you might as well eat your supper,” meowed Sandstorm, more gently now. But Fireheart had no appetite left. He could only stare around the clearing, returning the glances of the other Clan cats—some anxious, some just greedily curious—as they learned of Cloudpaw’s desertion.

Runningwind’s tail flicked one of Fireheart’s hind legs. “Look out.”

Darkstripe was heading toward them with a smug expression he didn’t even try to hide. “Bluestar wants to see you,” he meowed loudly to Fireheart. With a resigned sigh Fireheart stood up and made his way to the ThunderClan leader’s den.