Firmly he put the episode out of his mind. Time was running out. Before sunset, Fireheart knew, he must speak with Tallstar and find another way to solve the dispute over the stolen prey.
Chapter 13
Fireheart darted from one clump of gorse to the next as he crossed the moor toward the WindClan camp. He ran with his belly brushing the turf, trying to stay out of sight and longing for the thick undergrowth of his own territory. The last time he had visited the camp, when ThunderClan helped WindClan in a battle against the other two Clans, there had been no need to hide. Now he dared not show himself until he reached Tallstar, or at least met with one of the cats he could call his friends—if any of them were still friendly, after the recent disastrous Gathering. WindClan patrols had attacked him on their territory before; they would be even more hostile now.
The scent of WindClan was all around him, but so far he hadn’t seen any cats. The sun had nearly finished crossing the sky. Fireheart tried not to think about that. He came close to panic when he remembered how little time was left before Bluestar would launch her attack.
He was crossing one of the shallow moorland streams, bounding from rock to rock, when a stronger scent of WindClan cats flooded over him, along with the scent of rabbit. Fireheart’s belly growled in complaint, but he had to ignore it. There was no way he could take WindClan’s prey now—and it smelled as if there was a hunting patrol not far behind anyway. Diving into a clump of bracken at the water’s edge, he peered out cautiously to spot the source of the scent.
Three cats were making their way upstream toward him. At the front of the patrol was his old friend Onewhisker, and Fireheart’s heart lifted. Gorsepaw was with his mentor; they were both carrying rabbits. But to Fireheart’s dismay, the third cat was Mudclaw, the dark, mottled warrior who had stopped Bluestar when she tried to cross WindClan territory to get to Highstones. This cat would never allow Fireheart to bring his message to Tallstar.
But it seemed that luck—or the favor of StarClan—was on Fireheart’s side. With their jaws full of prey, the WindClan cats were unable to pick up his ThunderClan scent, and they passed within a couple of tail-lengths of him. Then Gorsepaw, who was struggling with a rabbit almost as big as he was, stopped to adjust his grip on it and fell behind the others.
Fireheart spotted his chance. “Gorsepaw!”
The young cat raised his head, ears pricked.
“Over here, in the bracken.”
Gorsepaw turned, and his eyes stretched wide when he saw Fireheart poking his head out from the rusty fronds. His mouth opened, but Fireheart urgently signaled to him to keep silent.
“Listen, Gorsepaw,” he mewed. “I want you to tell Onewhisker I’m here, but don’t let Mudclaw know, okay?” The apprentice hesitated, looking troubled, and Fireheart added urgently, “I have to talk to him. It’s important for both our Clans. You’ve got to trust me.”
The desperation in his tone reached Gorsepaw, who paused a moment longer and then gave a quick nod. “All right, Fireheart. Wait here.”
He picked up his rabbit again and hurried to catch up to the two warriors. Fireheart crept deeper into the bracken and crouched there, waiting. Before long he heard another cat approach his hiding place and murmur, “Fireheart? Is that you?”
To his relief, Fireheart recognized Onewhisker’s voice. He peered warily out of the shelter of the bracken, and straightened up when he saw that his friend was alone.
“Thank StarClan!” he exclaimed. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“This had better be good, Fireheart,” Onewhisker meowed. He gave Fireheart a hard stare, with no trace of his usual friendliness. “It took me a while to get rid of Mudclaw. If he knew you were on our territory, you’d be crowfood, and you know it.” He padded up to Fireheart. “I’m sticking my neck out for you,” he growled. “I hope it’s worth it.”
“It is, I promise. I’ve come to tell you something. I’ve got to speak to Tallstar. It’s important,” he added, as Onewhisker went on staring at him.
For a few heartbeats he was afraid that his friend was going to refuse, or even attack him and drive him off WindClan territory.
Then Onewhisker spoke, and to Fireheart’s relief he sounded less hostile, as if he were beginning to realize the urgency of Fireheart’s request. “What’s it all about? Tallstar will have my fur off if I take a ThunderClan cat into camp without a very good reason.”
“I can’t tell you, Onewhisker. I can’t tell any cat except Tallstar. But believe me, it’s for the good of both our Clans.”
Once again Onewhisker hesitated. “I wouldn’t do this for any cat but you, Fireheart,” he meowed at last. Spinning around, he beckoned with his tail and bounded off across the moor.
Fireheart sprang after him. Onewhisker halted at the top of the slope, looking down into the WindClan camp. The rays of the dying sun cast long shadows over the gorse bushes that lined the sides of the hollow. As Fireheart and Onewhisker stood there, a patrol slipped past them. Fireheart was conscious of their stares, where curiosity mingled with antagonism.
“Come on,” meowed Onewhisker. He led the way through the tough stems of gorse until they came to a sandy clearing in the middle of the bushes.
As he emerged through a narrow gap in the thorns, Fireheart saw Tallstar crouched at one side of the clearing near a pile of fresh-kill. More WindClan warriors clustered around him. It was the Clan deputy, Deadfoot, who looked up first and then nudged his leader, mewing something rapidly into his ear.
Tallstar rose and padded across the clearing to where Fireheart and Onewhisker waited. Deadfoot hovered at his shoulder, and other cats followed close behind. Fireheart recognized Barkface, the WindClan medicine cat, and Mudclaw, his lips drawn back in a snarl.
“Well, Onewhisker.” Tallstar’s voice was level, giving nothing away. “Why have you brought Fireheart here?”
Onewhisker dipped his head. “He says he has to talk to you.”
“And that means he can just stroll into our camp?” Mudclaw spat. “He’s from an enemy Clan!”
Tallstar waved his tail at Mudclaw, a sign for silence, while his eyes looked deep into Fireheart’s. “I’m here,” he mewed simply. “Talk.”
Fireheart glanced around him. The crowd was growing larger, as more WindClan cats heard about the intruder in their midst and came out to see what was going on. “What I have to say is not for all ears, Tallstar,” he stammered.
For a heartbeat he thought he heard a faint growl in Tallstar’s throat, but then the WindClan leader nodded slowly. “Very well. We will go to my den. Deadfoot, you come with us—and you, Onewhisker.” Turning, he stalked toward the rock at the far end of the clearing, his long tail held high, while the two warriors herded Fireheart after him.
The WindClan leader’s den was sheltered under a deep overhang in the rock, on the side away from the main camp. Tallstar entered and made himself comfortable in a nest of heather, facing Fireheart. “Well?” he meowed.
Shadows were gathering in the den, and Fireheart could feel rather than see the shapes of the cats who guarded him. Tension crackled between them, as if they were waiting for the tiniest excuse to attack him. During his journey across the moor he had thought hard about what he would say, but he still didn’t know whether he would manage to convince Tallstar that there was a way to avoid Bluestar’s attack.