Into the Wild

  “We know about the dogs. We saw them earlier—” Tigerclaw began impatiently.

  “We are grateful to you for the warning,” interrupted Bluestar. “Thank you, Barley. Until next time . . .”

  Barley flicked his tail. “Have a safe journey,” he meowed as he bounded away up the track.

  “Come,” ordered Bluestar. She pushed her way through the long grass between the path and the fence that led back into the cornfield. The three apprentices followed, but Tigerclaw hesitated.

  “You trust the word of a loner?” he meowed.

  Bluestar stopped and turned to face him. “Would you rather face those dogs?”

  “They were tied up when we passed them earlier,” Tigerclaw pointed out.

  “They may be untied now. We’re going this way,” meowed Bluestar. She ducked under the fence into the field. Firepaw slipped after her, followed by Graypaw, Ravenpaw, and finally Tigerclaw.

  By now, the sun had lifted its head above the horizon. The hedgerows sparkled with dew, promising another warm day.

  The cats padded along the edge of the ditch. Firepaw looked down into the deep gully, steep-sided and filled with nettles. Firepaw could smell prey-scent. There was something familiar about the bitter odor, but it was one he hadn’t smelled for a long time.

  An earsplitting squeal made Firepaw whip around. Ravenpaw was struggling and clawing at the earth. Something had hold of his leg and was dragging him down into the ditch.

  “Rats!” spat Tigerclaw. “Barley has sent us into a trap!”

  Before they could react, all five cats were surrounded. Huge brown rats swarmed out of the ditch, squeaking shrilly. Firepaw could see their sharp front teeth glinting in the early dawn light.

  Suddenly one leaped onto Firepaw’s shoulder. Fiery pain shot through his shoulder as the rat sank its teeth into his flesh. Another grasped his leg between its powerful jaws.

  Firepaw flung himself down and writhed madly, trying to shake free. He knew the rats were not as strong as he was, but there were so many of them. Yowls, hisses, and spits told him that the others were also being attacked.

  Firepaw slashed fiercely with his claws, slicing out at a rat that held on to his leg. It let go, but another one gripped his tail. Fast as lightning, powered by fear and rage, Firepaw fought and hacked at his attackers. Twisting his head around, he sank his teeth into the rat that had embedded itself into his shoulders. He felt the bones of its neck crunch in his mouth and its body go limp, before it fell away onto the dirt track.

  Firepaw gasped with pain as yet another rat leaped onto his back and sank its teeth in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white fur. For a moment he was confused; then he felt the rat being dragged off him. Firepaw spun around to see Barley flinging the rodent into the ditch.

  Without hesitating, Barley glanced around and sprinted over to Bluestar. She was writhing on the path, covered in rats. In a flash Barley had the spine of one between his teeth and was plucking it off her with practiced ease. He spat it onto the ground and grabbed another in his mouth as Bluestar thrashed beneath him.

  Firepaw rushed over to Graypaw, who was being attacked from both sides by two smaller rats. Firepaw lunged at the nearest one, giving it a bite that left it dead. Graypaw managed to turn and pin down the other with his claws. He grabbed it with his teeth and flung it into the ditch as hard as he could. It did not come back.

  “They’re running away!” Tigerclaw yowled.

  Sure enough, the remaining rats were fleeing down into the safety of the ditch. Firepaw could hear the scrabbling of small paws disappearing into the nettles. The bites in his shoulder and hind leg stung sharply. He licked carefully at his fur, wet and matted with blood, its sharp tang mingling with the stench of the rats.

  Firepaw looked around for Ravenpaw. Graypaw was standing at the edge of the nettles, mewing encouragement as Ravenpaw pulled himself out of the ditch, muddy and stung. A young rat was still hanging on to his tail. Firepaw bounded over and finished it off quickly while Graypaw helped to pull Ravenpaw over the top of the ditch.

  Now Firepaw looked for Bluestar. He saw Barley first, standing at the top of the ditch, scanning the depths for more rats. Bluestar was lying on the path nearby. Alarmed, Firepaw dashed to his leader’s side. The thick gray fur at the back of her neck was drenched with blood. “Bluestar?” he mewed.

  Bluestar did not reply.

  A furious yowl made Firepaw look up.

  Tigerclaw leaped on top of Barley and pinned him to the ground. “You sent us into a trap!” he snarled.

  “I didn’t know the rats were here!” spat Barley, his paws scrabbling in the dust as he struggled to stand up.

  “Why did you send us this way?” hissed Tigerclaw.

  “The dogs!”

  “The dogs were tied when we passed them earlier!”

  “The Twoleg unties them at night. They guard his nest,” Barley panted, wheezing under the weight of Tigerclaw’s massive paws.

  “Tigerclaw! Bluestar is injured!” Firepaw burst out.

  Tigerclaw released Barley at once. Barley got up and shook the dust from his coat. The great warrior bounded over to Bluestar’s side and sniffed her wounds.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Firepaw asked.

  “She is in the hands of StarClan now,” meowed Tigerclaw solemnly, stepping back.

  Firepaw opened his eyes wide with shock. Did Tigerclaw mean that Bluestar was dead? His fur prickled as he looked down at his leader. Is this what the spirits at the Moonstone had warned her about?

  Graypaw and Ravenpaw had joined them and stood beside their leader, horror-struck. Barley hung back, craning his neck to see what was happening.

  Bluestar’s eyes were open but glazed, and her gray body lay motionless. She didn’t even appear to be breathing.

  “Is she dead?” whispered Ravenpaw.

  “I don’t know. We must wait and see,” replied Tigerclaw.

  The five cats waited in silence as the sun began to climb into the sky. Firepaw found himself wordlessly begging StarClan to protect his leader, to send her back to them.

  Then Bluestar stirred. The end of her tail twitched and she lifted her head.

  “Bluestar?” mewed Firepaw, his voice trembling.

  “It’s all right,” Bluestar rasped. “I am still here. I have lost a life, but it wasn’t my ninth.”

  Joy flooded Firepaw. He looked at Tigerclaw, expecting to see relief on his face, but the dark warrior was expressionless.

  “Right,” Tigerclaw meowed in a commanding tone. “Ravenpaw, fetch cobwebs for Bluestar’s wounds. Graypaw, find marigold or horsetail.” The two apprentices dashed away. “Barley, I think you should leave us now.”

  Firepaw looked over to the loner who had fought so bravely to help them. He wanted to thank him, but under Tigerclaw’s fierce gaze, he didn’t dare. Instead of speaking, Firepaw gave Barley a tiny nod. Barley seemed to understand, for he nodded in return and left without another word.

  Bluestar was still lying on the dirt track. “Is everyone all right?” she asked hoarsely.

  Tigerclaw nodded.

  Ravenpaw came charging back, his left forepaw wrapped in a thick wad of cobwebs. “Here,” he mewed.

  “Should I put them on her wounds?” Firepaw asked Tigerclaw. “Yellowfang showed me how.”

  “Very well,” agreed Tigerclaw. He walked away and scanned the ditch again, his ears pricked for more rats.

  Firepaw peeled a clump of cobwebs from Ravenpaw’s paw and began to press them firmly onto Bluestar’s wounds.

  She winced under his touch. “If it had not been for Tigerclaw, those rats would have eaten me alive,” she murmured, her voice tight with pain.

  “It wasn’t Tigerclaw who saved you. It was Barley,” Firepaw whispered as he took some more cobwebs from Ravenpaw.

  “Barley?” Bluestar sounded surprised. “Is he here?”

  “Tigerclaw sent him away,” Firepaw answered quietly. “He thinks Barley sent us int
o a trap.”

  “And what do you think?” Bluestar rasped.

  Firepaw didn’t look up, but concentrated on pressing the last bit of cobweb into place. “Barley is a loner. What would he gain by sending us into a trap only to rescue us from it?” he mewed eventually.

  Bluestar laid down her head and closed her eyes again.

  Graypaw returned with some horsetail. Firepaw chewed the leaves and spat the juice onto Bluestar’s wounds. He knew it would help stop infection, but he still wished Spottedleaf were with him, with her knowledge of and confidence in healing.

  “We should rest here while Bluestar recovers,” announced Tigerclaw, padding up.

  “No,” Bluestar insisted. “We must return to the camp.” Narrowing her eyes in pain, she struggled to her paws. “Let’s keep going.”

  The ThunderClan leader limped along the edge of the field. Tigerclaw walked at her side, his face dark with unknowable thoughts. The apprentices exchanged anxious glances, and then followed.

  “It is a long time since I saw you lose a life, Bluestar.” Firepaw overheard Tigerclaw’s whispered words. “How many have you lost now?”

  Firepaw couldn’t help feeling surprised at Tigerclaw’s open curiosity.

  “That was my fifth,” replied Bluestar quietly.

  Firepaw strained his ears, but Tigerclaw did not reply. He padded on, lost in thought.

  CHAPTER 17

  Sunhigh came and went as the cats made their way through WindClan’s old hunting grounds. Their heavy silence showed that they were still sore after the rat fight. Firepaw felt scratched and bitten all over. He could see Graypaw was limping, occasionally hopping on three legs to protect his injured back leg. But it was Bluestar who worried him most. Her pace was even slower now, but she refused to stop and rest. The grim look on her face, clouded by pain, told Firepaw how much she wanted to reach the ThunderClan camp.

  “Don’t worry about ShadowClan warriors,” she meowed through gritted teeth as Tigerclaw paused to sniff the air. “You won’t find any here today.”

  How could she be so sure? Firepaw wondered.

  They picked their way carefully down the steep, rocky hillside that led to Fourtrees and joined the familiar trail that led home. It was late afternoon, and Firepaw began to think longingly of his nest, and a plump helping of fresh-kill.

  “I can still smell the stench of ShadowClan,” Graypaw muttered to Firepaw as they trekked through ThunderClan’s hunting grounds.

  “Perhaps the breeze has carried it down from WindClan’s territory,” Firepaw suggested. He could smell it too, and his whiskers were trembling.

  Suddenly Ravenpaw stopped. “Can you hear that?” he mewed in a hushed voice.

  Firepaw strained his ears. At first he heard only the familiar sounds of the forest—leaves rustling, a pigeon calling. Then his blood ran cold. In the distance he could hear battle-hungry yowls, and the shrill squeal of terrified kits.

  “Quick!” Bluestar howled. “It is as StarClan warned me. Our camp is being attacked!” She tried to leap forward, but stumbled. She pushed herself up and limped onward.

  Tigerclaw and Firepaw pelted forward side by side. Graypaw and Ravenpaw followed, their tail fur bristled to twice its usual size. Firepaw forgot his soreness as he charged toward the camp. His only concern was to protect the Clan.

  The sounds of battle grew louder and louder as he neared the camp entrance, and the stench of ShadowClan filled his nostrils. He was right behind Tigerclaw as the cats dashed through the tunnel and into the clearing.

  They were met by a frenzy of fighting, ThunderClan cats battling furiously with ShadowClan warriors. The kits were out of sight, and Firepaw hoped they were safely hidden in the nursery. He guessed the weakest elders would be sheltering inside the hollow trunk of their fallen tree.

  Every corner of the camp seemed alive with warriors. Firepaw could see Frostfur and Goldenflower clawing and biting at a huge gray tom. Even the young tabby queen Brindleface was fighting, though she was very close to kitting. Darkstripe was locked in a fierce tussle with a black warrior. Three of the elders, Smallear, Patchpelt, and One-eye, were nipping bravely at a tortoiseshell who fought with twice their speed and ferocity.

  The returning cats hurled themselves into the battle. Firepaw caught hold of a tabby warrior queen, much larger than him, and sank his teeth deep into her leg. She yowled with pain and turned on him, lashing out with sharp claws and lunging at his neck with her teeth bared. He twisted and ducked to avoid her bite. She couldn’t match his speed, and he managed to grasp her from behind and pull her down into the dirt. With his strong hind legs he clawed at her back till she squealed and struggled away from him, running headlong into the thick undergrowth that surrounded the camp.

  Firepaw glanced around to see that Bluestar had arrived. Despite her injuries, she was fighting another tabby. Firepaw had never seen her fight before, but even wounded, she was a powerful opponent. Her victim struggled to escape but she held him tightly and clawed him so fiercely that Firepaw knew he would bear the scars of this fight for many moons.

  Then he saw a white ShadowClan cat with jet-black paws dragging a ThunderClan elder away from the nursery. Firepaw remembered those unusual dark paws from the Gathering. Blackfoot! The ShadowClan deputy made quick work of killing the elder, who had been guarding the kits, and began to reach into the bramble nest with one massive paw. The kits were squealing and mewling, undefended now as their mothers wrestled with other ShadowClan warriors in the clearing.

  Firepaw prepared to spring toward the nursery, but a claw sliced painfully down his side and he whipped around to see a scrawny tortoiseshell leap on top of him. As he slammed into the ground, he tried to call out to the other ThunderClan cats that the kits were in danger. Fighting with all his strength to escape the tortoiseshell’s grip, he wrenched his head around so he could see the bramble nest.

  Blackfoot had scooped two kits from their bedding already and was reaching in for a third.

  Firepaw saw no more as the tortoiseshell raked his belly with her hind claws. Firepaw scrabbled onto his feet and crouched low, as if in defeat. The trick had worked before and it worked now. As the tortoiseshell gripped him triumphantly and began to sink her teeth into Firepaw’s neck, Firepaw sprang upward as hard as he could and flung the warrior away. He spun around and was on the winded warrior in an instant. This time he showed no mercy, plunging his teeth deep into the cat’s shoulder. The bite sent the she-cat howling into the undergrowth.

  Firepaw jumped up, dashed over to the nursery, and thrust his head through the nursery entrance. Blackfoot was nowhere to be seen. Inside the nest, crouching over the terrified kits, was Yellowfang. Her gray fur was spattered with blood, and one of her eyes was painfully swollen. She looked up at Firepaw with a ferocious hiss, then, realizing it was him, she yowled, “They’re okay. I’ll protect them.”

  Firepaw looked at her as she calmed the helpless kits, and Brokenstar’s dire warning about the ShadowClan rogue flashed through his mind. He didn’t have time to think about that now. He would have to trust Yellowfang. He nodded quickly and ducked back out of the brambles.

  There were now only a few ShadowClan cats left in the camp. Ravenpaw and Graypaw were fighting side by side, lashing out at a black tom until he fled howling into the bushes. Whitestorm and Darkstripe chased the last two intruders out of the camp, sending them off with a few extra scratches and bites.

  Firepaw sat down, exhausted, and stared around the camp. It was devastated. Blood spattered the clearing, and tufts of fur drifted in the dust. The surrounding wall of undergrowth was ripped open where the invaders had crashed through.

  One by one, the ThunderClan cats gathered beneath the Highrock. Graypaw came to sit by him, his sides heaving and blood trickling from a torn ear. Ravenpaw flopped down and began to lick a wound on his tail. The queens ran to the nursery to check on their kits. Firepaw found himself waiting tensely for their return, his view blocked by the other cats. He relaxed when he h
eard squeals and purrs of joy coming from the bramble nest.

  Frostfur wove her way back through the crowd, followed by Yellowfang. The white queen stepped forward and addressed them. “Our kits are all safe, thanks to Yellowfang. A ShadowClan warrior killed brave Rosetail and was trying to steal them from their nest, but Yellowfang fought him off.”

  “It was no ordinary ShadowClan warrior either,” Firepaw put in. He was determined to let the Clan know how much they owed Yellowfang. “I saw him. It was Blackfoot.”

  “The ShadowClan deputy!” meowed Brindleface, who had fought so bitterly to protect the unborn kits in her swollen belly.

  There was a stir at the edge of the group, as Bluestar limped forward and made her way over to the apprentices. The grave expression on her face was enough to tell Firepaw that something was wrong.

  “Spottedleaf is with Lionheart,” she murmured. “He was injured in the battle. It looks bad.” She turned her head toward the shadow on the far side of the Highrock where the warrior lay, a motionless bundle of dusty golden fur.

  A high-pitched wail rose from Graypaw’s throat and he raced over to Lionheart. Spottedleaf, who had been leaning over the ThunderClan deputy, stepped back to let the young apprentice share tongues for the last time with his mentor. As Graypaw’s howl of grief echoed around the clearing, Firepaw’s fur tingled and his blood ran cold. It was the cry he had heard in his dream! For a moment his head swam; then he gave himself a shake. He had to keep calm, for Graypaw’s sake.

  Firepaw looked at Bluestar, who nodded, and he padded over to join his friend by the Highrock. He stopped for a moment beside Spottedleaf.

  She looked exhausted and dull-eyed with grief. “I can’t help Lionheart now,” she mewed quietly to him. “He is on his way to join StarClan.” She pressed her body against Firepaw’s side, and he felt comforted by the touch of her warm fur.

  The other cats looked on in silence as the sun slowly set behind the trees. Finally Graypaw sat up and cried out, “He’s gone!” He lay down again beside Lionheart’s body and rested his head on his front paws. The rest of the Clan walked silently forward to carry out their own grieving rituals for their beloved deputy.