The blood roared in Fireheart’s ears, making him dizzy. What should he do? “But I’m the only warrior left!” he meowed breathlessly to Yellowfang. “What if Brokenstar attacks the camp while I’m gone? He’s done it before. He might have left the bones as a trap so that our camp was left unguarded.”
“You must tell Tigerclaw before he—” Yellowfang pleaded, but Fireheart shook his head.
“I can’t leave you all alone.”
“Then I shall go!” Yellowfang hissed.
“No! I’ll go!” meowed Sandpaw.
Fireheart looked from one cat to the other. He couldn’t afford to send either—their strength and training were needed here to protect the Clan. But Yellowfang was right; innocent blood couldn’t be shed. Brokenstar was the invader here; ThunderClan had no quarrel with ShadowClan. He would have to send another cat. He closed his eyes and thought hard. The answer came in a moment. “Brackenpaw!” Fireheart hissed, opening his eyes wide. He called the apprentice’s name out loud.
The young cat pushed his way out of his den and padded across the clearing toward Fireheart. “What is it?” he asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“I have an urgent mission for you,” Fireheart told him.
Brackenpaw shook himself and stood taller. “Yes, Fireheart,” he mewed.
“You must find Tigerclaw. He’s taken a raiding party to attack a ShadowClan patrol. Stop him and tell him that it was Brokenstar who has been invading our territory!” Brackenpaw’s eyes widened with alarm, but Fireheart went on: “You might have to cross the Thunderpath. I know you haven’t been trained….” Images of Cinderpaw’s broken body flashed in Fireheart’s mind, but he forced them away. He looked deep into Brackenpaw’s eyes. “You must find Tigerclaw,” he repeated, “or there will be a war between the Clans for no reason!”
Brackenpaw nodded, his eyes calm and filled with purpose. “I’ll find him,” the tabby apprentice promised.
“May StarClan go with you,” Fireheart murmured, reaching forward to touch Brackenpaw’s flank with his nose.
Brackenpaw turned and sprinted out through the gorse tunnel. Fireheart watched him go, struggling to keep calm. Cinderpaw…the Thunderpath…the images kept flashing back. Fireheart shook his head to clear it. There was no time to worry now. If Brokenstar was in ThunderClan territory, the camp had to prepare for an attack.
“What’s happening?” Dustpaw had emerged from the apprentices’ den. Fireheart glanced at him, ran to the head of the clearing, and scrambled up onto the Highrock. The clearing seemed a long way below his trembling legs. He swallowed hard and began the customary call. “Let all cats old enough to…” But the words were taking too long! “The camp is in danger. Come here now!” he yowled urgently.
The elders and queens rushed from their dens, followed by their kits. They looked bewildered when they saw Fireheart on top of the Highrock. Cinderpaw limped out of the fern tunnel and looked up at Fireheart with a strong, bright gaze. When Fireheart saw her, the camp suddenly stopped swaying beneath him.
“What’s going on?” demanded One-eye, the oldest ThunderClan cat. “What do you think you’re doing up there?”
Fireheart didn’t hesitate. “Brokenstar is back. He might be in ThunderClan territory right now. All our other warriors are out of the camp. If Brokenstar attacks, we must be ready. Kits and elders stay in the nursery. The rest of you must be ready to fight—”
A menacing yowl from the camp entrance cut short Fireheart’s speech. A lean dark brown tabby with matted fur and torn ears strode into the camp. His bristling tail was bent in the middle like a broken branch.
“Brokenstar!” Fireheart gasped, instinctively unsheathing his claws as every hair on his body stood on end.
Four mangy warriors prowled in behind their leader, their eyes glittering with hatred.
“So you’re the only warrior left!” Brokenstar hissed, his lips drawn back in a snarl. “This will be easier than I thought!”
CHAPTER 26
Yellowfang, Dustpaw, and Sandpaw rushed forward in a defensive row, and the queens lined up behind them. Fireheart saw Cinderpaw hobbling to join them, but Dustpaw spat angrily at the small gray cat as she neared, and Cinderpaw scrabbled clumsily away, ears flat, back into Yellowfang’s den.
The elders grabbed the kits, bundled them into the nursery, and squeezed inside after them. Brindleface picked up Cloudkit in her jaws and pushed him in last. She tugged at the brambles with her paws, ignoring the thorns, and covered the entrance before turning to join the rest of her Clan in the clearing.
Fireheart leaped down from the Highrock and raced to Yellowfang’s side. He arched his back and hissed at Brokenstar, “You lost the last time we fought, and you’ll lose again!”
“Never!” Brokenstar spat back. “You might have taken my Clan away from me, but you can’t kill me—I have more lives than you!”
“One ThunderClan life is worth ten of yours!” Fireheart growled. He gave a warrior’s yowl and the clearing exploded into battle.
Fireheart leaped straight for Brokenstar and grasped the dark brown tabby with his claws. Life as an outlaw had treated the former Clan leader harshly—Fireheart could feel the ribs of the flea-bitten tom beneath his fur. But Brokenstar was still strong. He twisted around and sank his teeth into Fireheart’s hind leg. Fireheart yowled and hissed with rage, but kept his grip. Brokenstar struggled forward, scrabbling with his paws on the frozen ground. Fireheart felt his claws raking along Brokenstar’s bony flanks as the rogue warrior ripped himself free. Fireheart lunged after him, but other claws were grasping at his hind leg. He looked over his shoulder to see who it was. Clawface crouched there, staring at Fireheart with narrowed, mocking eyes.
Fireheart looked back at him in disbelief. He had never expected to see this cat again. He forgot Brokenstar instantly. It was Clawface who had killed Spottedleaf six moons ago; he had murdered the ThunderClan medicine cat in cold blood so that Brokenstar could steal Frostfur’s kits. Rage roared in Fireheart’s ears. As he twisted around and threw himself on top of the scrawny brown tom, Fireheart glimpsed a flash of tortoiseshell fur out of the corner of his eye, and the sweet scent of Spottedleaf hit the roof of his mouth. He felt her spirit beside him. She had come to help him avenge her death.
Fireheart hardly noticed the pain in his leg as he tore it free from Clawface’s grasp and flew at him. The tom reared up and flailed his wide front paws. Thorn-sharp claws caught Fireheart behind his ear. Pain ripped through him like fire, and he staggered. Clawface was on him in an instant, pinning Fireheart to the ground and sinking his teeth into the back of his neck.
Fireheart screeched in agony, “Help me, Spottedleaf! I can’t do it!”
Suddenly the weight was wrenched off his back. Fireheart sprang to his paws and spun around. Graystripe! The gray warrior stood motionless, his eyes filled with horror. Clawface’s body hung limply from his jaws. Graystripe opened his mouth and Clawface fell to the ground, dead.
Fireheart took a step forward. “He killed Spottedleaf, Graystripe!” This was no time for remorse. “Is Bluestar with you?” he went on urgently.
Graystripe shook his head. “She sent me back to fetch Tigerclaw,” he replied. “We found bones. Bluestar recognized Brokenstar’s stench and guessed he must be leading the rogue cats.”
A hiss sounded nearby and two cats crashed into Fireheart. He leaped out of the way. It was Frostfur battling with another of the attacking cats. The queen was fighting with all the power of StarClan. These were the cats who had stolen her kits. Hate shone in her eyes as she struggled. Fireheart held himself back—Frostfur didn’t need his help. A moment later the rogue warrior was sent screeching away, through the bracken camp wall.
Frostfur chased after him, but Fireheart called her back. “You have given him enough wounds to remember you!” The queen skidded to a halt by the bracken wall and turned, her sides heaving and her white fur stained with her enemy’s blood.
Another rogue warrior screeched pa
st Fireheart and headed for the camp wall. Dustpaw chased after him and managed to give the mottled tabby a fierce bite before he let him scrabble out of the camp. Only Brokenstar and one warrior left, Fireheart thought.
Sandpaw had the rogue warrior pinned to the ground. The tom was lying motionless beneath her. Watch out! thought Fireheart, remembering his favorite trick of letting an enemy think he had won. But Sandpaw was not deceived. When the tom leaped to his paws, she was ready. She sprang off him, and then lunged, grasping the warrior with her claws to flip him over and rake his belly with her hind legs. Only when he squealed like a kit did she let go of him. The rogue tore out of the camp entrance, still wailing.
There was an eerie moment of stillness. The ThunderClan cats stood in silence and stared at the blood and fur that was scattered around the clearing. In the middle lay Clawface’s body.
Where was Brokenstar? Fireheart spun around in alarm, scanning the camp. Could he have broken into the nursery? He was about to spring toward the bramble den when a wretched howl from Yellowfang’s den tore the air. Fireheart tore across to the fern tunnel. Cinderpaw! He raced into the den, expecting the worst, but saw instead Brokenstar lying in a heap on the ground. The old medicine cat stood over him.
Brokenstar’s eyes were closed and bloody. Fireheart saw his sides heave once, and stop moving. He recognized from the deep stillness in the rogue warrior’s body that Brokenstar was losing a life.
Yellowfang’s claws were unsheathed and glistened red. Her face was twisted and her eyes glazed.
Suddenly Brokenstar gasped and began to breathe again. Fireheart waited for Yellowfang to lunge at him with another killing bite, but she hesitated. Brokenstar didn’t get up.
Fireheart ran to the medicine cat’s side. “Is this his last life? Why don’t you finish him off?” he urged. “He murdered his father, banished you from your Clan, and tried to kill you.”
“It’s not his last life,” she rasped, “and even if it were, I couldn’t kill him.”
“Why not? StarClan would honor you for it.” Fireheart could not believe her words. The name Brokenstar had always made this old she-cat bristle with rage.
Yellowfang dragged her gaze from Brokenstar and looked at Fireheart. Her eyes clouded with pain and grief as she murmured, “He is my son.”
Fireheart felt the ground lurch under his paws. “But medicine cats are forbidden from having kits,” he blurted out.
“I know,” answered Yellowfang. “I never intended to have kits. But then I fell in love with Raggedstar.” Her voice was thick with sorrow. Suddenly Fireheart thought back to the battle when Brokenstar was driven out of the ShadowClan camp. Just before he fled, the cruel leader had told Yellowfang that he had murdered his father. Yellowfang had been devastated, and now Fireheart understood why.
“There were three kits in my litter,” Yellowfang went on. “But only Brokenstar survived. I gave him to a ShadowClan queen to bring up as her own. I thought that losing two of my kits was punishment from StarClan for breaking the warrior code. But I was wrong. My punishment wasn’t that two of my kits died. It was that this one survived!” Yellowfang looked in disgust at Brokenstar’s bleeding body. “And now I cannot kill him. I must accept my fate, as StarClan wishes it.”
Yellowfang staggered, and Fireheart thought she was going to collapse. He pressed his body against her flank to support her and whispered, “Does he know you’re his mother?”
Yellowfang shook her head.
Brokenstar began to wail pitifully. “I can’t see!” Fireheart realized with horror that the rogue cat’s eyes had been scratched beyond repair.
Fireheart cautiously approached him. Brokenstar lay still. Fireheart poked him with a forepaw and Yellowfang’s son moaned again. “Don’t kill me,” he whined. Fireheart backed away, feeling a shudder of revulsion at the warrior’s fear.
Yellowfang took a deep breath. “I will see to him.” She walked over to her wounded son, grasped him by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him to the nest that Patchpelt had left.
Fireheart let her go. He wanted to check that Cinderpaw was all right. He caught sight of a dark shape moving inside the split rock where Yellowfang slept. “Cinderpaw?” he called.
Cinderpaw poked her head out.
“Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.
“Have the rogue cats gone?” she whispered.
“Yes, except Brokenstar. He’s badly injured. Yellowfang’s seeing to him.” He waited for Cinderpaw’s shocked reaction, but she just shook her head slowly and stared at the ground.
“Are you okay?” Fireheart repeated.
“I should have fought alongside you.” Cinderpaw’s voice was choked with shame.
“You would have been killed!”
“That’s what Dustpaw said. He told me to go and hide with the kits.” The small cat’s eyes were full of despair. “But I wouldn’t have minded being killed. What good am I like this? I’m just a burden on this Clan.”
Fireheart felt a thorn-sharp pang of pity. He searched for words to comfort her, but before he could speak, Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded from the bracken.
“Cinderpaw,” she called. “Fetch me some cobwebs, quickly!” Cinderpaw turned at once and disappeared inside the rock, returning a moment later with one paw wrapped in a swathe of cobwebs. As quickly as she could, she scrambled awkwardly over to Yellowfang and thrust the cobwebs inside the nest.
“Now get me some of that comfrey root,” ordered Yellowfang.
As Cinderpaw limped back to the split rock, Fireheart turned to leave. There was nothing more he could do here. He must find out how the rest of the Clan was.
Hardly any cat had moved in the camp clearing. Fireheart padded straight to Dustpaw and meowed, “Yellowfang is tending to Brokenstar’s wounds. Cinderpaw’s helping her.” He ignored Dustpaw’s gasp of disbelief. “Go and guard him.” Dustpaw ran to the tunnel and disappeared inside.
Fireheart went over to Graystripe. The gray warrior was still staring at Clawface’s body. “You saved my life,” Fireheart murmured. “Thank you.”
Graystripe lifted his gaze to Fireheart. “I would give my life for you,” he answered simply.
Feeling choked, Fireheart watched his friend turn and walk away. Perhaps their friendship was not over after all.
The sound of paws pounding through the gorse tunnel broke into his thoughts. Bluestar came rushing into the camp, followed by Longtail and Swiftpaw. Fireheart felt his shoulders droop with relief at the sight of his Clan leader. She looked around at the blood-spattered clearing, her eyes wide, until her gaze rested on Clawface’s body. “Brokenstar attacked?” she meowed.
Fireheart nodded.
“Is he dead?”
“He’s with Yellowfang,” Fireheart answered, forcing out the words in spite of his exhaustion. “He’s been wounded—his eyes.”
“And the other rogue warriors?”
“We chased them off.”
“Are any of our Clan badly hurt?” Bluestar demanded, looking once more around the clearing. The cats shook their heads. “Good,” she meowed. “Sandpaw, Swiftpaw, take this body out of the camp and bury it. No elders need be present. No rogue deserves to be buried with the honor of StarClan ritual.”
Swiftpaw and Sandpaw began to drag Clawface toward the tunnel.
“Are the elders safe?” Bluestar asked.
“They’re in the nursery,” Fireheart told her. As he spoke a rustling sounded from the bramble den, and Halftail appeared, followed by the other kits and elders. Fireheart saw Cloudkit tumble out and scamper excitedly across the clearing to Brindleface. She greeted him with a brisk lick, and the kit turned to watch Clawface’s body as it disappeared away through the tunnel.
“Is he dead?” Cloudkit asked curiously. “Can I go and see?”
“Hush,” whispered Brindleface, tucking her tail around him.
“Where’s Tigerclaw?” Bluestar asked.
“He’s taken a party to attack a ShadowClan patrol,” Firehear
t explained. “We found bones on our patrol. They smelled of ShadowClan so Tigerclaw decided to attack. I sent Brackenpaw to stop him when Yellowfang realized it was Brokenstar’s scent on them.”
“Brackenpaw?” meowed Bluestar, narrowing her eyes. “Even though he might have to cross the Thunderpath?”
“I was the only warrior left in camp. There was no one else I could send.”
Bluestar nodded, the concern in her eyes giving way to understanding. “You didn’t want to leave the camp unguarded?” she meowed. “You did well, Fireheart. I think Brokenstar hoped to lure all our warriors away from the camp. We found bones, too.”
“Graystripe told me.” Fireheart looked around for his friend, but Graystripe had disappeared.
“Send Yellowfang to me when she’s finished with Brokenstar,” Bluestar ordered. She pricked her ears at the noise of more paws in the gorse tunnel. Tigerclaw came racing into the camp, followed by Whitestorm and the rest of the raiding party. Fireheart craned his neck to peer around the warriors until he saw Brackenpaw, right at the back. The young apprentice looked exhausted but unhurt. Fireheart let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Did Brackenpaw reach you before you found a patrol?” asked Bluestar, walking over to her deputy.
“We hadn’t even entered their territory,” Tigerclaw answered. “We were just about to cross the Thunderpath.” His eyes narrowed. “Was that Clawface they were burying?”
Bluestar nodded.
“Then Brackenpaw was right,” meowed the deputy. “Brokenstar was planning to attack the camp. Is he dead too?”
“No. Yellowfang is tending to his wounds.”
“Surely not!” Mousefur exclaimed, exchanging a glance with Runningwind beside her.
Tigerclaw’s face darkened. “Tending to his wounds?” he snarled. “We should kill him, not waste time making him better!”