Darkstripe twitched his ears scornfully, but he said no more. Fireheart glanced around, wondering whether he was winning the support of his warriors. When Bluestar gave up her last life and went to join StarClan, he realized uncomfortably, he might have to lead this Clan, and if he could not command their loyalty and respect, the task would be impossible.
“This is what’s important,” he went on desperately. “WindClan haven’t done anything wrong. And we have enough to do, rebuilding the camp and keeping up the patrols, without fighting an unnecessary, dangerous battle. How will we keep ourselves fed and prepare for leaf-bare if we have warriors injured or even killed?”
“He’s right.” Brindleface spoke up, and the others turned to look at her. “Our children would be in the battle,” she went on quietly. “We don’t want them hurt for nothing.”
Frostfur added her agreement, but the rest of the warriors were still murmuring among themselves. Again he was aware of Sandstorm, and the distress in her pale green eyes. He could understand how torn she must feel now, between her loyalty to Bluestar and her commitment to him. Right now Fireheart wanted nothing more than to press himself against her flank and forget all this in the sweet scent of her fur, but he had to go on standing in front of his warriors, waiting for their verdict on whether they would support him or not.
“So what do you want us to do?” Longtail meowed at last.
“I’ll need a party of warriors ready to go with Bluestar to Fourtrees,” Fireheart replied. “If Ravenpaw doesn’t come, or if Bluestar doesn’t agree to talk, then she’ll lead us into battle. And if that happens…” His voice failed; he swallowed.
“Yes, what then?” Sandstorm demanded. “Do you want us to disobey Bluestar’s direct orders? Turn around and run away? Dustpelt, tell Fireheart what a mouse-brained idea that is!”
Dustpelt’s ears pricked in surprise. Fireheart knew very well that part of the brown warrior’s antagonism toward him was because Sandstorm so clearly preferred Fireheart now. He braced himself for more criticism, but Dustpelt meowed hesitantly, “I don’t know, Sandstorm. Fireheart’s right that it’s a bad time for a battle, and besides, no cat can seriously believe that WindClan is stealing our prey. If Bluestar thinks so, then…well…” He broke off, scuffling his paws in confusion.
“It’s understandable that Bluestar can’t trust WindClan,” Fireheart mewed, instinctively defending his leader. “Not since they stopped her going to Highstones. And we’ve never known dogs loose in the forest before. But there is no evidence at all that WindClan took those rabbits, and plenty of evidence that a dog did.”
“So what do you suggest if it comes to battle, Fireheart?” asked Mousefur. “Come back to the camp when Bluestar gives the order to attack?”
“No,” Fireheart replied. “Tallstar seemed willing to meet Bluestar in peace, and if we’re lucky he’ll have only one or two warriors with him. It won’t come to a fight.”
“That’s a pretty big if,” mewed Mousefur with a skeptical flick of her tail. “What if WindClan assume the same thing, and set an ambush for us? We’d be crowfood.” Fireheart winced as she voiced Whitestorm’s own doubts about whether they could trust Tallstar.
“I’m not going,” Longtail announced loudly. “Let WindClan tear us apart? I’m not mouse-brained!”
Dustpelt, who was sitting next to him, turned his head and gave him a scorching look of contempt. “No, you’re a coward,” he meowed.
“I’m not!” Longtail’s protest was shrill. “I’m a loyal ThunderClan cat!”
“Fine, Longtail,” Fireheart broke in. “We don’t need every warrior to go. You can stay and guard the camp. And that goes for the rest of you,” he added. “If you don’t want to be part of this, stay here.” He waited tensely for his warriors’ response, looking around at their troubled faces in the dim light of the den.
“I’ll go,” meowed Whitestorm at last. “I think we can trust Tallstar not to fight, if there is an alternative.”
Fireheart shot him a grateful glance as the other warriors hesitated, murmuring to each other or shifting uncomfortably among the mossy bedding.
“I’ll go too.” Brackenfur sounded nervous to be the first to speak among so many older warriors.
“So will I,” mewed Dustpelt. His tail lashed once in Fireheart’s direction. “But if WindClan attack, I’ll fight. I’m not going to be clawed apart for any cat.”
The rest of the warriors joined in. To Fireheart’s surprise, Darkstripe agreed to go, while Mousefur refused.
“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” she meowed. “I think you’re talking sense, but that’s not the point. The warrior code isn’t something you stick to just when you feel like it. I don’t think I could disobey my leader if she ordered me to attack.”
“Well, I will go,” Brindleface asserted. “I don’t want to see my kits torn to pieces in a battle we don’t have to fight.”
“I’ll go too,” meowed Frostfur. Her gaze swept over the warriors around her as she added, “We don’t raise kits to fight in unjust battles.”
At last Fireheart had to face Sandstorm, who so far had said nothing. He could not imagine what he would do if she refused to support him. “Sandstorm?” he mewed hesitantly.
Sandstorm crouched with her head down, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll go along with you, Fireheart,” she muttered. “I know you’re right about the dogs—but I still hate lying to Bluestar.”
Fireheart moved to her side and gave her ear a quick lick, wanting to thank her, but she jerked her head away without looking at him.
“What about the apprentices?” Darkstripe asked. “Do you want them to come with us? Fernpaw’s too young to get involved.”
“I agree,” Dustpelt mewed swiftly.
For all his tension Fireheart had to suppress a purr of amusement to hear Dustpelt betraying the soft spot he felt for Darkstripe’s apprentice.
“I’d prefer to keep Brightpaw out of it,” meowed Whitestorm.
“But won’t Bluestar think there’s something odd if we don’t take any apprentices with us?” asked Brackenfur.
“That’s a good point.” Fireheart nodded at the young warrior. “Okay, we’ll take Swiftpaw and Cloudpaw. But only if Bluestar wants to take that many cats with her, and we’ll tell them what’s going on after we leave. The news will be all around the camp otherwise.”
Fireheart realized to his surprise that he had more warriors on his side than he needed. If Ravenpaw made it to the camp on time and Bluestar agreed to go and talk to Tallstar, it would seem odd if a whole fighting patrol of warriors offered to go with her. Besides, he didn’t want to leave the camp vulnerable to attack, especially now. “Why don’t Frostfur and Brackenfur stay to help guard the camp?” he suggested. “I am grateful for your support, but you may be needed here.”
Brackenfur and Frostfur exchanged a glance and then nodded.
“Now the rest of you had better get some sleep,” he continued. “We leave at moonset.”
He watched the warriors settle down in their bedding, but he did not join them. He knew he had no chance of sleeping, and he wanted to tell Cinderpelt what was going on before she heard it from any other cat. If it weren’t for his faith in Spottedleaf, he would have started to doubt long ago that he could stop this battle. There seemed to be so much that could go wrong: Ravenpaw might not bring the message in time; Bluestar might refuse to talk to Tallstar; WindClan might ambush them at Fourtrees….
Giving himself a shake, Fireheart emerged into the clearing. He glanced around for any sign of Ravenpaw, but the camp lay silent in the moonlight. A pair of eyes gleamed from the entrance to the gorse tunnel, and as Fireheart padded closer he made out the pale shape of Ashpaw, on guard.
“Do you know who Ravenpaw is?” he asked, and when the apprentice nodded, he went on: “He hasn’t been here tonight, has he?”
Looking puzzled, Ashpaw shook his head.
“If he comes,” Fireheart instructed him, “let him in, and take him straight to
Bluestar, okay?”
“Okay, Fireheart.” Ashpaw was clearly bursting with curiosity, but he didn’t ask any questions.
Fireheart nodded to him and went off to find Cinderpelt. Padding up to the medicine cat’s den, he saw her sitting outside, deep in conversation with Mousefur.
Both cats looked around at his approach.
“Fireheart?” Cinderpelt meowed, rising slowly to her paws. “What’s all this Mousefur is telling me? Why wasn’t I invited to the meeting?” Her blue eyes blazed with annoyance.
“It was just for the warriors,” Fireheart replied, though the explanation sounded feeble even to him.
“Oh, right,” mewed Cinderpelt dryly. “You thought I wouldn’t be interested in keeping secrets from Bluestar?”
“It’s not like that!” Fireheart protested. “I was coming to tell you now. Mousefur,” he added, giving the she-cat a hostile glance, “aren’t you supposed to be resting?”
Mousefur returned his glare, then spun around and vanished into the darkness.
“Well?” prompted Cinderpelt.
“It sounds as if Mousefur has told you already. I don’t like this situation any more than you, but what choice is there? Do you really think that StarClan want war in the forest—especially an unjust war?”
“StarClan have shown me nothing about any battles,” Cinderpelt admitted. “And I don’t want bloodshed, but is this the only way to stop it?”
“If you can think of a better idea, tell me.”
Cinderpelt shook her head. Moonlight shone on her gray fur, giving her a ghostly appearance, as if she were already halfway into the world of StarClan. “Whatever you do, Fireheart, be careful of Bluestar. Be gentle with her. She was a great leader—and she might be again.”
Fireheart wanted so much to believe the medicine cat. But each day Bluestar seemed to slide further into confusion. The wise mentor he had respected when he first came to ThunderClan seemed very far away.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “I don’t want to deceive her. But that’s why I’ve organized this meeting with Tallstar. I want her to realize we don’t have to fight. And she won’t listen to me.” Tensely, he added, “Do you think I’m wrong?”
“It’s not for me to say.” Cinderpelt met his gaze steadily. “This is your decision, Fireheart. No cat can make it for you.”
CHAPTER 14
When Fireheart returned to the clearing, there was still no sign of Ravenpaw. His belly churned. The moon was high in the sky. Before long, Bluestar would lead her warriors into battle against WindClan, and all hope of a peaceful solution would be lost.
Where was Ravenpaw? Perhaps Onewhisker hadn’t been able to find him. Or perhaps he couldn’t come—or he was on his way but would arrive too late. Fireheart wanted to dash out into the forest and look for him, but he knew that would serve no purpose.
Then he saw a flicker of movement at the entrance to the camp, and heard a mewed challenge from Ashpaw. Another cat answered, and Fireheart shivered with relief as he recognized Ravenpaw’s voice. Springing forward, he bounded across the clearing.
“Okay, Ashpaw,” he meowed to the apprentice. “I’ll look after Ravenpaw—you stay on guard.” He touched noses with the sleek cat who emerged from the gorse tunnel. “It’s good to see you, Ravenpaw. How are you?”
Even as he asked the question he could see that the former apprentice was looking well. His black pelt shone in the moonlight and his strong muscles rippled beneath the fur.
“I’m fine,” Ravepaw replied. He looked around the clearing, his amber eyes very wide. “It seems strange to be here again, Fireheart. I’m sorry to hear you’re having trouble with WindClan. Onewhisker told me everything, and he swore they haven’t been stealing prey.”
“Try convincing Bluestar of that,” Fireheart meowed grimly. “Look, I hate to rush you—I know you must have run like the wind to get here so fast—but we don’t have much time. Follow me.”
He led the way to Bluestar’s den. The ThunderClan leader was curled in her nest, but when Fireheart looked closely at her he could see a gleam of moonlight reflected from her narrowed eyes. She was not asleep.
“What’s the matter, Fireheart?” she asked, sounding annoyed. “It’s not time to go yet. And who’s that with you?”
“It’s Ravenpaw, Bluestar,” the loner meowed, stepping forward. “I’ve come with a message from Windclan.”
“WindClan!” Bluestar sprang to her paws. “What does that Clan of thieves want to say to me?”
To Ravenpaw’s credit, he didn’t flinch, though Fireheart knew he must remember the days when he was a Clan apprentice and Bluestar’s anger was something to be feared. “Tallstar wants to meet with you, to discuss the loss of prey,” he told her.
“Does he?” Briefly Bluestar glared at her deputy, her eyes blazing with blue fire. For a heartbeat Fireheart was sure she had guessed what he had done. There was an ominous pause.
“Bluestar, surely it would be better to talk than fight?” he ventured.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bluestar snapped. Her tail-tip twitched irritably. “Get out of here. Ravenpaw and I will discuss this together.”
Fireheart had no choice but to leave the den. He hovered around outside, listening to the murmur of voices but unable to make out what Bluestar and Ravenpaw were saying.
After a while Whitestorm emerged from the warriors’ den and padded over to join him. “The moon’s going down,” the white warrior meowed. “Bluestar will want to leave soon. Is Ravenpaw here yet?”
“Yes, he is,” mewed Fireheart. “But I don’t know whether—”
He broke off at a movement from inside the den. A heartbeat later, Bluestar stalked out with Ravenpaw behind her. She paced forward until she reached Fireheart, her tail lashing. “Gather a patrol,” she ordered. “We go to Fourtrees.”
“Does that mean you are going to talk with Tallstar?” Fireheart asked bravely.
His leader’s tail lashed again. “I will talk,” she meowed. “But if there is no agreement, then we will fight.”
The night was still dark when Bluestar led her warriors into the hollow where the four great oaks stood. Fireheart padded at her shoulder; the smallest of rustles told him that the other cats were following. His heart lurched as an owl hooted in the distance. He had barely had a chance to murmur his thanks to Ravenpaw for bringing Tallstar’s message before the black cat had slipped away from the ThunderClan warriors. He would follow a different route back to his farmland home, keeping well clear of Fourtrees.
Bluestar paused at the top of the slope. As the other warriors caught up with her, starlight cast a faint sheen on their fur, touching their pricked ears and reflecting from their wide eyes. Fireheart could almost taste their anticipation.
When he looked across the border into WindClan territory, he thought at first that the sweep of moorland was empty, stretching up to the night sky. Wind swept across it and rustled the oak trees in the hollow behind him. Then he caught sight of movement up ahead, and he realized that a line of cats was standing there, with Tallstar at their center. His stomach clenched as Fireheart realized that Tallstar, too, had brought his warriors with him.
“What’s that?” Bluestar hissed, turning to glare into his eyes. “So many WindClan cats? I thought I was coming here to talk.” Her eyes glared furiously at Fireheart, some sharpened instinct flooding her expression with understanding. “This looks more like an ambush than a meeting of leaders.”
At a flick of her tail, the ThunderClan warriors moved up in purposeful silence to form a tight line on either side of their leader, facing the WindClan cats. Fireheart felt the air crackle with tension, and he realized that it would be all too easy for fighting to break out, even if WindClan did not attack first. Would Tallstar keep his word, and try to talk to Bluestar rather than fight?
“Tallstar?” Bluestar meowed coldly. “What have you to say to me?”
Waiting for the WindClan leader’s response, Fireheart nervously shea
thed and unsheathed his claws. He did not know if the line would hold. If just one cat moved forward, battle could engulf them all. He saw Dustpelt exchange a tense glance with Brindleface, as if both cats were thinking the same as he was. Next to him, Sandstorm kept her gaze fixed on the WindClan cats, her ears flat to her head. Swiftpaw stared nervously at his leader, but he held his place in the line. Cloudpaw, on Fireheart’s other side, had dropped into the hunter’s crouch, his rump wriggling as if he were about to spring.
“Keep still!” Fireheart hissed.
A few fox-lengths away, Tallstar stood a pace or two ahead of his own warriors. As the first pale light of dawn crept into the sky, Fireheart could make him out more clearly. His black-and-white fur was fluffed up, and his tail held erect. Behind him Fireheart spotted Onewhisker and Morningflower, and the young apprentice Gorsepaw. I don’t want to fight these cats, he thought. He waited, feeling his heart pound like that of a trapped bird.
“No cat is to move,” Tallstar ordered his warriors at last, his voice carrying easily in the still air.
“You must be mad!” That was Mudclaw, padding to Tallstar’s side. “That’s a fighting force she’s brought with her. We’ve got to attack!”
“No.” Tallstar took another pace forward, flicking his tail to summon Deadfoot, his deputy, to his side. Looking directly at Bluestar, he dipped his head. “No battle will be fought here today. I said that I would come here to talk, and that’s what I intend to do.”
Bluestar did not respond. She crouched on the ground, her fur bristling and her teeth bared in a snarl of defiance. Fireheart was suddenly afraid that she had changed her mind, and wondered what would happen if she launched herself at the WindClan leader. He sent up a fervent prayer to StarClan that she would not order her warriors to attack.
Meanwhile, Onewhisker came up to Mudclaw and nudged him roughly back into line. For a moment that seemed to Fireheart to last several moons, the two lines of cats faced each other, their fur blowing in the wind, their eyes gleaming with a tension that teetered on the brink of breaking out into squalling, biting rage.