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 stil sore after the rat fight.

Firepaw felt scratched and bitten al over. He could see

Graypaw was limping, occasional y 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 careful y down the steep, rocky

hil side 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-kil.

“I can stil smel 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 smel 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

cal ing. Then his blood ran cold. In the distance he could

hear battle-hungry yowls, and the shril 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 fol owed, 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

fil ed 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 hol ow trunk of their fal en 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, Smal ear, Patchpelt, and One-

eye, were nipping bravely at a tortoiseshel that 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 pul her

down into the dirt. With his strong hind legs he clawed at

her back til 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 kil ing 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 painful y down his side and he whipped around

to see a scrawny tortoiseshel leap on top of him. As he

slammed into the ground, he tried to cal out to the other

ThunderClan cats that the kits were in danger. Fighting with

al his strength to escape the tortoiseshel ’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 tortoiseshel raked his bel y

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 tortoiseshel 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 Yel owfang. Her gray fur was spattered

with blood, and one of her eyes was painful y swol en. She

looked up at Firepaw with a ferocious hiss, then, realizing it

was him, she yowled, “They’re okay. I’l 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 Yel owfang. 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 wal 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 heard squeals and purrs of joy

coming from the bramble nest.

Frostfur wove her way back through the crowd, fol owed

by Yel owfang. The white queen stepped forward and

addressed them. “Our kits are al safe, thanks to

Yel owfang. A ShadowClan warrior kil ed brave Rosetail

and was trying to steal them from their nest, but Yel owfang

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 Yel owfang. “I saw him. It was Blackfoot. ”

“The ShadowClan deputy! ” meowed Brindleface, who

had fought so bitterly to protect the unborn kits in her

swol en bel y.

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 tel

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 dul -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. Final y 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.

Firepaw joined them. He licked Lionheart’s neck and

murmured, “Thank you for your wisdom. You taught me so

much. ” Then he sat down beside Graypaw and began

gently to groom his friend’s ears.

Bluestar waited until the other cats had left before

padding quietly up. Graypaw didn’t even seem to notice his

leader’s presence. Firepaw looked away as Bluestar

spoke her last words to her old friend.

“Oh, what am I going to do without you, Lionheart? ” she

whispered. Then she limped back to her den and crouched

down outside, staring grief-stricken into the distance. She

didn’t even try to lick clean her bloody, matted fur. It was the

first time Firepaw had seen her look utterly defeated, and

he felt a chil run through him.

He sat with Graypaw and Lionheart until the moon rose

high. Ravenpaw joined him and together they kept

company with their grieving friend. Tigerclaw strode over

and briefly shared tongues with Lionheart. Firepaw waited

to hear what words he would share with his warrior friend,

but Tigerclaw remained silent as he licked the matted fur.

To Firepaw’s confusion, the dark tabby’s eyes seemed to

be fixed on Ravenpaw rather than the fal en deputy.

Spottedleaf padded lightly around the camp, tending to

wounds and battered nerves. Firepaw watched her

approach Bluestar twice, but each time the leader sent her

away to see to the others. Only when Spottedleaf had

attended to the wounds of al the other cats did Bluestar

al ow her to treat her bites and scratches.

When she had finished, Spottedleaf turned and walked

back to her den. Bluestar stood and slowly hauled herself

up onto the Highrock. The Clan cats seemed to have been

waiting for her. As soon as she had settled herself in her

usual spot, they began to gather in the clearing below,

unusual y silent and somber-faced.

Firepaw and Ravenpaw got stiffly to their paws and

joined them, leaving Graypaw behind with Lionheart’s body.

The gray apprentice was stil lying with his nose resting

against Lionheart’s cooling golden pelt. Firepaw guessed

Bluestar would excuse Graypaw from the Clan meeting this

time.

“It is nearly moonhigh, ” meowed Bluestar as Firepaw

slipped into place next to Ravenpaw. “And it is once more

my duty—much, much too soon—to name ThunderClan’s

new deputy. ” Her voice was tired and cracked with

sadness.

Firepaw looked from warrior to warrior. They were al

looking expectantly at Tigerclaw. Even Whitestorm had

turned to watch the dark tabby. From the bold expression

on his face, and the way his whiskers twitched in

anticipation, Tigerclaw seemed to agree with them.

Bluestar took a deep breath and continued. “I say these

words before the body of Lionheart, so that his spirit may

hear and approve my choice. ” She hesitated. “I have not

forgotten how one cat avenged the death of Redtail and

brought his body back to us. ThunderClan needs this

fearless loyalty even more now. ” Bluestar paused again

and then meowed the name loud and clear. “Tigerclaw wil

be the new deputy of ThunderClan. ”

There was a yowl of approval, with the loudest voices

belonging to Darkstripe and Longtail. Whitestorm sat

calmly, his eyes closed, his tail wrapped neatly around him.

He was nodding slowly and approvingly.

Tigerclaw lifted his chin proudly, his eyes half-closed as

he listened to the Clan. Then he stalked through the crowd,

accepting tributes with the smal est of nods, and leaped up

onto the Highrock beside Bluestar. “ThunderClan, ” he

yowled, “I am honored to accept the position of Clan

deputy. I never expected to gain such high rank, but by the

spirit of Lionheart, I vow to serve you as best I can. ” He

gravely dipped his head, fixing the crowd with his wide

yel ow eyes, and jumped down from the Highrock.

Firepaw heard Ravenpaw murmur, “Oh, no! ” under his

breath beside him. He turned to look curiously at his friend.

Ravenpaw’s head was hanging low. “She should never

have chosen him! ” he muttered.

“Are you talking about Tigerclaw? ” Firepaw whispered.

“He’s wanted to be deputy ever since he took care of

Redtail—” Ravenpaw mewed. He stopped abruptly.

“Took care of Redtail? ” Firepaw echoed. His mind

suddenly raced with questions. What did Ravenpaw know?

At the Gathering, had his account of the battle with

RiverClan been true? Was Tigerclaw responsible for

Redtail’s death?