Into The Wild

Ravenpaw nodded. “I will!” Suddenly he frowned, “How can you be sure Barley will welcome me?”

“Just tell him you caught an adder once!” answered Graypaw, affectionately nudging his friend’s rain-soaked shoulder.

“Go,” Firepaw urged, aware that time was short. He licked Ravenpaw’s skinny chest. “And don’t worry; I’ll make sure everyone knows you didn’t betray ThunderClan.”

“What if Tigerclaw comes looking for me?” Ravenpaw’s voice was small against the rumbling storm.

Firepaw met his gaze steadily. “He won’t. I shall tell him you are dead.”

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 Yellowfang’s trail. They had to find her first.

The sky was still dark, even though the black thunderclouds were beginning to roll 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 hillside into Fourtrees.

“We need to pick up Yellowfang’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 Yellowfang until they crossed into the oak woods close to the camp.

Now that the rain had finally stopped, the scents around them were beginning to return. Firepaw hoped that the rain had not washed away Yellowfang’s trail completely. He stopped and brushed at a fern with the tip of his nose, and recognized the familiar smell. Yellowfang’s fear-scent prickled in his nostrils. “She came this way!” he meowed.

He pushed his way through the wet undergrowth. Graypaw followed. 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 Yellowfang’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 smell 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 finally 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 fearfully 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.

Yellowfang’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 smell her,” complained Graypaw. “It’s too wet.”

“It’s there,” Firepaw assured him.

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

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

“Kitscent. There’s kit blood here!”

Firepaw sniffed again, seeking out the smell of ThunderClan offspring. “I smell 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. Yellowfang 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 all the tricks of basic training, stepping lightly, keeping their bodies low.

Then they leaped.

Yellowfang 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 hollow 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 all her old hostility.

“Where are the kits?” Firepaw demanded.

“We can smell their blood!” spat Graypaw. “Have you harmed them?”

“I don’t have them,” snarled Yellowfang angrily. “I’ve come to find them and take them back. I stopped because I smelled blood too. But they’re not here.”

Firepaw and Graypaw looked at one another.

“I don’t have them!” insisted Yellowfang.