Fireheart took a final look at Ravenpaw sitting alone in the entrance. He knew now that he had made the right decision in helping Ravenpaw to leave ThunderClan. Perhaps Bluestar had been right when she’d said Ravenpaw would be better off without the Clan. Each cat has his own destiny, he thought. Ravenpaw was happy, and that was all that mattered.
When Fireheart woke, Ravenpaw was gone. It was past dawn. The gray rain clouds had begun to drift away. Tinged by the rosy glow of the rising sun, they looked like blossoms floating across a pond. Fireheart stared through a gap in the roof and watched them as the WindClan cats stirred and helped themselves to the leftovers of last night’s catch.
A short-tailed brown tom joined Fireheart and gazed up at the clouds with him. Fireheart jumped as a curious yowl suddenly escaped the brown tom’s throat. The noise brought the other WindClan cats crowding around them, murmuring and anxious.
“What is it, Barkface?” prompted Morningflower. “Has StarClan spoken to you?” Fireheart realized that this tom must be WindClan’s medicine cat. He tensed instinctively at the sight of Barkface’s bristling fur.
“The clouds are stained with blood!” rasped Barkface, his eyes wide and glazed. “It is a sign from our ancestors. There is trouble ahead. This day shall bring an unnecessary death.”
Chapter 7
For a moment, none of the cats moved or spoke. Then Deadfoot growled, “Any of the Clans could see those clouds. We can’t be sure that the message is for us.”
Hopeful mews spread through WindClan. Tallstar surveyed his Clan, then meowed calmly, “Whatever StarClan has planned for us, today we return to our home. I can smell more rain in the air. It’s time we set off.” Fireheart felt relieved at the leader’s practical tone. The last thing they needed was hysteria at an ominous prophecy.
Tallstar led the way out into the chilly morning air. Fireheart and Graystripe followed. The WindClan leader was right: the wind carried the promise of more rain, and soon.
“Shall we scout ahead?” Fireheart offered.
“Yes, please,” replied Tallstar. “Let me know if you see dogs, Twolegs, or rats. My Clan is stronger this morning, but we had trouble with dogs on the way out. We must stay alert.” Fireheart could see from the worried look in the leader’s eyes that Barkface’s warning had disturbed him more than his confident words suggested. His Clan might be stronger, but it was in no state to fight off attackers.
Fireheart raced away with Graystripe at his heels. They took turns going back to the Clan, telling Tallstar that the way ahead was clear, or warning him to stay back while a Twoleg passed by with a dog. The WindClan cats wordlessly obeyed their leader, plodding on heavy paws in spite of their night’s rest.
By sunhigh dark clouds had gathered once more, and the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. The ground began to slope upward, and when Fireheart pushed his way through a hedge, he recognized the red dirt track that led away from Twoleg territory and into WindClan’s hunting grounds. His spirits soared, and he met Graystripe’s gaze with a look of triumph. Nearly there!
The muffled tramp of pawsteps sounded behind the hedge. Fireheart spun around and darted back into the field. The WindClan cats had caught up with them. Deadfoot was at the head of the group. He looked startled by Fireheart’s sudden appearance.
“This way,” Fireheart meowed, showing him the gap through the dripping leaves. He was eager to see WindClan’s reaction when they glimpsed the uplands on the other side. With Deadfoot leading, the cats began to file slowly through.
Fireheart followed close behind the last cat, but Deadfoot and two warriors had already leaped the ditch and crossed the track, and were pushing into the hedgerow on the other side. Their pace had quickened—they clearly knew where they were. Fireheart had to sprint to catch up. He followed them through the hedge and kept up with them as they bounded toward the long slope that led to the uplands, and their home.
At the foot of the slope, Deadfoot and his warriors paused to wait for the rest of the Clan. They closed their eyes against the rain but held their heads high. Fireheart could see their chests rising and falling as they breathed in the familiar scents sweeping from the uplands.
Fireheart ran back to the rest of the Clan, looking for Morningflower. He spotted her walking beside a tabby warrior who held her kit in his mouth. Every few steps the tortoiseshell queen stretched her head to sniff the wet little bundle. It would not be long now before she could settle her kit into the WindClan nursery.
Fireheart fell into step beside Graystripe at the rear. They glanced happily at each other but didn’t speak, too caught up in WindClan’s excitement at coming home. Even the elders were moving swiftly now, keeping their bodies low and their eyes narrowed against the rain. As the Clan joined Deadfoot at the foot of the slope, the deputy got to his paws and Tallstar took the lead. Without pausing, Tallstar began to follow a narrow sheep trail through the rough grass and heather.
As the Clan neared the top, some of the warriors raced ahead again. At the brow of the hill, they made proud silhouettes against the stormy sky, while the wind sent ripples through their fur. Ahead stretched their old hunting grounds. Suddenly two apprentices charged past Fireheart and bounded away into the familiar heather.
Tallstar stiffened. “Wait!” he yowled. “There might be hunting parties from the other Clans here!”
As soon as they heard him, the apprentices skidded to a halt and pelted back to join the Clan, their eyes still bright with exhilaration.
From a rock-strewn ridge Fireheart saw the dip in the ground that concealed WindClan’s camp. With a purr of delight Morningflower took her kit from the mouth of the tabby warrior and hurried toward the hollow. Tallstar flicked his tail and three warriors raced forward to escort her as she disappeared over the edge and down into the camp.
The WindClan leader paused while the rest of his Clan rushed into the sheltering bushes below. He turned to Fireheart and Graystripe, his eyes shining. “My Clan is grateful for your help,” he meowed. “You have both proved you are warriors worthy of StarClan. WindClan has come home, and it is time for you to return to yours.”
Fireheart felt a pang of disappointment. He’d wanted to see Morningflower settled in the nursery with her kit. But Tallstar was right: there was no need for them to stay here any longer.
Tallstar spoke again. “There may be hostile hunting parties around. Onewhisker and Deadfoot will escort you to Fourtrees.”
Fireheart bowed his head. “Thank you, Tallstar.”
Tallstar called to his warriors and gave them their orders. Then he turned his tired eyes once more to Fireheart. “You have served WindClan well. Tell Bluestar that WindClan will not forget it was ThunderClan who brought them home.”
Deadfoot padded away in the direction of Fourtrees. Fireheart and Graystripe walked after him with Onewhisker at their side. They stayed close together as they followed a narrow path through a solid mass of gorse that provided good shelter against the rain.
Suddenly Onewhisker stopped and sniffed the air. “Rabbit!” he called out joyfully before charging away into the gorse. Deadfoot stopped and waited. Fireheart could see a glint in the deputy’s tired eyes. There was a rush of pawsteps in the distance and the rustle of gorse, then silence.
A moment later Onewhisker returned with a large rabbit dangling from his jaws.
Graystripe leaned toward Fireheart. “A little better than the RiverClan warriors, eh?”
Fireheart purred in agreement.