CHAPTER 22

Firepaw and Graypaw retraced their steps to ThunderClan

territory. Both cats were bone-weary and wet through, but

Firepaw kept up the pace. The storm was beginning to

move away. A ThunderClan patrol would be out soon and

on Yel owfang’s trail. They had to find her first.

The sky was stil dark, even though the black

thunderclouds were beginning to rol away toward the

horizon. Firepaw guessed that it must be nearly sunset.

“Why don’t we head straight into ShadowClan territory? ”

suggested Graypaw as they ran down the steep hil side into

Fourtrees.

“We need to pick up Yel owfang’s scent first, ” Firepaw

explained. “I just hope it won’t lead to the ShadowClan

camp. ”

Graypaw glanced sideways at his friend, but didn’t reply.

They headed back over the stream, into ThunderClan

territory. There was no scent of Yel owfang until they

crossed into the oak woods close to the camp.

Now that the rain had final y stopped, the scents around

them were beginning to return. Firepaw hoped that the rain

had not washed away Yel owfang’s trail completely. He

stopped and brushed at a fern with the tip of his nose, and

recognized the familiar smel. Yel owfang’s fear-scent

prickled in his nostrils. “She came this way! ” he meowed.

He pushed his way through the wet undergrowth.

Graypaw fol owed. The rain was easing, and the thunder

was fading into the distance. Time was running out.

Firepaw pushed on faster.

To his dismay, he realized Yel owfang’s scent was

indeed leading them straight to ShadowClan territory. His

heart sank. Did this mean Tigerclaw’s accusations were

true? Firepaw began to hope that each new smel would

take them in a different direction, but the trail was

unfaltering.

They arrived at the Thunderpath and halted. Several

monsters roared by, throwing up fountains of dirty water.

The two cats hung back from the edge of the wide, gray

track until there was a gap. Then they raced across the path

and into ShadowClan territory.

The scent markers that lined the border made Firepaw’s

paws tingle.

Graypaw halted and looked around nervously. “I always

thought I’d have a few more warriors with me when I final y

entered ShadowClan territory, ” he confessed.

“Not afraid, are you? ” Firepaw murmured.

“Aren’t you? My mother warned me about the stench of

ShadowClan many times. ”

“My mother never taught me such things, ” Firepaw

replied. But for the first time he was relieved that his fur was

so wet that it clung to his body—Graypaw might not notice

the way it was bristling fearful y along his spine.

The two cats prowled onward, alert to every sight and

sound. Graypaw was on the lookout for ShadowClan

patrols, and Firepaw for the ThunderClan party he knew

must come soon.

Yel owfang’s scent-trail led them steadily into the heart of

ShadowClan’s hunting grounds. The woods here were

gloomy, the undergrowth crowded with nettles and

brambles.

“I can’t smel her, ” complained Graypaw. “It’s too wet. ”

“It’s there, ” Firepaw assured him.

“I can smel that though, ” Graypaw spat suddenly.

“What? ” Firepaw hissed. He stopped, alarmed.

“Kitscent. There’s kit blood here! ”

Firepaw sniffed again, seeking out the smel of

ThunderClan offspring. “I smel it too, ” he agreed. “And

something else! ” He flicked his tail down sharply, warning

Graypaw to keep quiet. Then, silently, he signaled with his

whiskers toward a blackened ash tree up ahead.

Graypaw twitched his ears questioningly. Firepaw gave

him a tiny nod. Yel owfang was sheltering behind the wide,

split trunk.

Instinctively the two cats separated, each moving toward

the tree, one on either side. They crept over the soft forest

floor, using al the tricks of basic training, stepping lightly,

keeping their bodies low.

Then they leaped.

Yel owfang yowled with surprise as the two cats landed

beside her and pinned her to the ground. She struggled

free, spitting, and backed into a sheltered hol ow at the

base of the trunk. Firepaw and Graypaw moved forward,

blocking her way out.

“I knew ThunderClan would blame me! ” she hissed, her

eyes flashing with al her old hostility.

“Where are the kits? ” Firepaw demanded.

“We can smel their blood! ” spat Graypaw. “Have you

harmed them? ”

“I don’t have them, ” snarled Yel owfang angrily. “I’ve

come to find them and take them back. I stopped because I

smel ed blood too. But they’re not here. ”

Firepaw and Graypaw looked at one another.

“I don’t have them! ” insisted Yel owfang.

“Why did you run away, then? Why did you kil

Spottedleaf? ” Graypaw asked the questions Firepaw

couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

“Spottedleaf is dead? ” There was no mistaking the

shock in Yel owfang’s voice.

Relief washed over Firepaw. “You didn’t know? ” he

croaked.

“How could I? I left the camp as soon as I heard the kits

were missing. ”

Graypaw looked suspicious, but Firepaw could hear the

truth in her voice.

“I know who has taken the kits, ” she continued. “I smel ed

his scent near the nursery. ”

“Who was it? ” Firepaw asked.

“Clawface—one of Brokenstar’s warriors. And as long

as the kits are with ShadowClan, they’re in great danger. ”

“But surely even ShadowClan wouldn’t harm kits! ”

Firepaw protested.

“Don’t be so sure, ” spat Yel owfang. “Brokenstar intends

to use them as warriors. ”

“But they are only three moons old! ” Graypaw gasped.

“That hasn’t stopped him before. He has been training

kits as young as three moons since he became leader. At

five moons he sends them out as warriors! ”

“Surely they’d be too smal to fight! ” Firepaw protested.

But in his mind’s eye he pictured the undersize

ShadowClan apprentices he had seen at the Gathering.

They weren’t just smal; they were kits!

Yel owfang hissed scornful y, “Brokenstar doesn’t care

about that. He has plenty more kits to spare, and if they run

out, he can steal them from other Clans! ” Her voice was

fil ed with rage. “After al, we’re talking about a cat who

kil ed kits from his own Clan! ”

Firepaw and Graypaw were stunned.

“If he kil ed ShadowClan’s kits, why wasn’t he

punished? ” Firepaw asked at last.

“Because he lied, ” growled Yel owfang. Bitterness made

her voice hard. “He accused me of their murder, and

ShadowClan believed him! ”

Firepaw suddenly understood. “Is that why you were

driven out of ShadowClan? ” he asked. “You have to come

back with us and tel al this to Bluestar. ”

“Not before I have rescued your kits! ” Yel owfang spat.

Firepaw lifted his head and sniffed the air. The rain had

stopped, and the wind was dying down. The ThunderClan

patrol would be wel on its way. They were not safe here.

Graypaw stil seemed shocked by Yel owfang’s

accusation. “How could a leader kil kits from his own

Clan? ” he demanded.

“Brokenstar insisted on training them too hard and too

young. He took two of the kits away for battle practice. ”

Yel owfang took a deep, wheezing breath. “They were only

four moons old. They were already dead when he brought

them back to me. They bore the scratches and bites of a ful

warrior, not of apprentices. He must have fought them

himself. There was nothing I could do. When their mother

came to see them, Brokenstar was with me. He said that

he had found me standing over their dead bodies. ” Her

voice cracked and she looked away.

“Why didn’t you tel her it was Brokenstar? ” Firepaw

asked in disbelief.

Yel owfang shook her head. “I couldn’t. ”

“Why not? ”

The old she-cat hesitated. When she spoke, her voice

was heavy with regret. “Brokenstar is ShadowClan’s

leader. Noble Raggedstar was his father. His word is law. ”

Firepaw looked away and the three cats sat in silence

for a moment. Then Firepaw meowed, “We’l rescue the

kits together. Tonight. But we can’t stay here. I can smel the

ThunderClan patrol coming. ” He paused. “If Tigerclaw is

with them, Yel owfang doesn’t stand a chance. He’l kil her

before we can explain. ”

Yel owfang looked at him, alert and determined again.

“There’s peat this way; it’l be wet after the rain, ” she told

him. “Our scents wil be disguised there. ”

She leaped into a clump of ferns and Firepaw and

Graypaw quickly fol owed her. They could hear the rustling

of undergrowth in the distance now. It was no longer the

wind that disturbed the bushes, but an approaching patrol,

no doubt hungry for revenge and fired up by Tigerclaw’s

lies.

An eerie stil ness settled over the woods, and a thin fog

was beginning to gather between the tree trunks. Firepaw

shook the droplets off his coat and impatiently pul ed a burr

off his chest.

Yel owfang led them onward. The ground grew soggier,

and their paws began to sink into the soft peat. The musty

smel choked Firepaw’s nostrils, but at least it would mask

their own trail. Behind them, the noise of cats grew louder.

“Quick, under here, ” Yel owfang urged, ducking under a

broad-leaved bush. The three cats crouched beneath it,

drawing in their tails. Firepaw kept as stil as he could,

trying to ignore the rank wetness of the ground seeping into

his bel y fur, and listening to the rustling of the ThunderClan

patrol as it came nearer and nearer.