Tallstar nodded to his warriors. They let the fur lie flat on their shoulders, and settled down to wait.
Fireheart was almost wet through to his skin when Ravenpaw appeared again. This time Barley was with him. Fireheart greeted the black-and-white loner with a friendly mew. It was good to see him again.
Barley took one look at the dripping cats and meowed, “We need to find you some proper shelter. Follow me!”
Fireheart leaped forward at once, glad to move his stiffening legs. Graystripe was right behind him, but the WindClan cats hung back, fear and suspicion showing in their eyes.
Tallstar blinked at his Clan. “We have to trust him,” he growled, before turning to follow the loner. One by one, the WindClan cats fell in step behind their leader.
Barley and Ravenpaw led them through the hedge into another field. In an overgrown corner, among the brambles and nettles, stood an abandoned Twoleg nest. The walls were full of holes where stones had fallen out, and only half the roof was left.
The WindClan cats stared fearfully at it. “You won’t get me in there!” muttered one of the elders.
“Twolegs never come here now,” Barley reassured them.
“It’ll give us some shelter from the rain,” urged Fireheart.
One of the apprentices whispered loudly, “I’m not surprised he wants to hide in a Twoleg nest—once a kittypet, always a kittypet.”
Fireheart bristled. He hadn’t heard that insult for several moons. But the story that a kittypet had joined a Clan must have made rich gossip at any Gathering. Of course WindClan would know. He whipped around and glared at the apprentice. “You’ve spent two moons living in a Twoleg tunnel. Does that make you a rat?”
The WindClan apprentice drew himself up, ruffling out his fur, but Graystripe stepped between them. “Come on; we’re just getting wetter the longer we stand out here.”
Tallstar meowed, “We’ve faced worse than a Twoleg shelter these past moons. One night here will do us no harm.”
The WindClan cats murmured nervously among themselves, clearly reluctant, but with a glance at Fireheart, Morningflower picked up her kit and padded into the Twoleg shelter. The gray queen followed after her, nudging her own kit forward out of the rain. The other cats gradually followed until every cat was inside.
Fireheart looked around the gloomy shelter. The ground was bare except for patches where weeds had burrowed their way under the stone walls. The wind and rain found their way through the gaps in the walls and roof, but it was drier and more sheltered than anywhere outside. He watched the WindClan cats sniffing cautiously around. As they began to settle themselves away from the dripping holes and drafty cracks, he glanced at Graystripe, relieved. Only Tallstar and Deadfoot remained on their paws.
“What about food?” asked Deadfoot.
Barley spoke. “You should all be resting,” he meowed. “Raven–”
Fireheart interrupted him before Barley could finish saying Ravenpaw’s name out loud. “Why don’t you two show me and Graystripe the best places to hunt around here?”
“Deadfoot and Onewhisker will go with you,” meowed Tallstar. Fireheart couldn’t decide if the WindClan leader still didn’t trust these two strangers, or if he was determined to show that his Clan could look after itself.
The six cats ventured back out into the rain. Hunting would be hard, but Fireheart was starving. Hunger always made him a better hunter. Tonight the voles and mice wouldn’t stand a chance. “Just show me where they are!” he meowed to Barley and Ravenpaw.
The two cats led them into a small patch of woodland. Fireheart breathed in a lungful of the familiar scent. Then he dropped into a hunting crouch and began to stalk into the ferns.
When the hunting party returned, each cat carried a mouthful of fresh-kill. The WindClan cats shared a feast with their new allies that night. Every cat from the eldest to the youngest ate their fill, then curled up together to share tongues in mutual grooming, while outside the wind and rain lashed at the walls of the shelter.
As darkness settled in, Barley got to his paws. “I’m off. Rats to catch!” he meowed.
Fireheart stood and touched the loner’s nose with his own. “Thank you again,” he purred. “This is the second time you’ve helped us.”
“Thanks for sending Ravenpaw to me,” replied Barley. “He’s turning into a fine ratter. And it’s good to share a meal with a fellow cat from time to time.”
“Is he happy here?” asked Fireheart.
“Ask him yourself,” meowed Barley, and with that he turned and disappeared into the night.
Fireheart padded over to Tallstar, who was washing his paws. Fireheart couldn’t help noticing how swollen and painful they looked. “We’ll take it in turns to keep watch tonight, if you like,” he offered, flicking his head toward Graystripe and Ravenpaw.
Tallstar looked up at him gratefully, exhaustion clouding his eyes. “Thank you,” he meowed. Fireheart blinked respectfully at the WindClan leader and went to tell Ravenpaw and Graystripe.
His offer to Tallstar had been genuine, but it also meant he could be alone with his two friends. He was desperate to get Ravenpaw out of earshot of the WindClan cats and ask him what he had been up to. Graystripe and Ravenpaw bounded over to his side as soon as he called them.
Fireheart led them to a corner of the Twoleg nest, close enough to the entrance for them to keep watch, but far enough away from the other cats that they could talk in private. “So what happened after we left you?” he asked Ravenpaw as soon as the three friends had settled down.
“I headed straight across the WindClan territory, like you suggested.”
“What about the Twolegs’ dogs?” Graystripe put in. “Were they loose?”
“Yes, but it was easy to avoid them,” Ravenpaw told him.
Fireheart was surprised by how casually his friend dismissed the dogs. “Easy?” he echoed.
“I could smell them from a long way off. I just waited until dawn, and once the dogs were tied up again, I tracked down Barley. He’s been great. I think he likes having me around.” Ravenpaw’s expression suddenly clouded. “Which is more than Tigerclaw ever did,” he meowed bitterly. “What did you tell him?”
Fireheart recognized the hunted look in Ravenpaw’s eyes as he spoke about his old mentor. “We said you’d been killed by a ShadowClan patrol,” he answered quietly. Two WindClan apprentices were wandering toward them. Fireheart twitched his ears to warn his friends they had an audience.
“Oh, yes,” meowed Ravenpaw, raising his voice. “We loners eat Clan apprentices whenever we can catch one.”
The WindClan apprentices shot him a scornful look. “You don’t scare us,” they mewed.
“Really?” purred Ravenpaw. “Well, I guess your meat would be tough and stringy, anyway.”
“How come you’re such good friends with a loner?” one apprentice asked Fireheart.
“A wise warrior makes friends wherever he can,” Fireheart replied. “If it weren’t for this loner, we’d still be cold and hungry instead of dry and well fed!” He narrowed his eyes in warning and the apprentices slunk away.
“So ThunderClan thinks I’m dead,” meowed Ravenpaw when they had gone. He gazed down at his paws. “Well, it’s probably for the best.” He lifted his eyes and looked at Fireheart and Graystripe. “I’m glad I’ve seen you again,” he meowed warmly. Fireheart purred, and Graystripe prodded his friend affectionately with a hind paw. “But you look tired,” Ravenpaw continued. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch tonight. I can rest tomorrow.” He stood up and gently licked each of his old friends on the head. Then he padded to the entrance of the shelter, sat down, and stared out into the rain.
Fireheart looked at Graystripe. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted,” admitted Graystripe. The gray warrior rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes.