River Of Fire

As they approached the horseplace, Featherpelt suddenly halted and began to taste the air. “There’s a really strong smell of horse,” she murmured, looking slightly uneasy. “I wonder if we should take a different way around.”

“No, what’s the point?” Sparkpelt objected; Alderheart suspected that his sister was reluctant to take suggestions from a WindClan cat. “The horses are always penned in the horseplace. They won’t bother us unless we bother them. We’ll just sneak past.”

Alderheart felt that maybe they should pay more attention to Featherpelt, since WindClan knew more about the horseplace than any cat. But he said nothing, just happy to take the more direct route that would get them to the watermint faster.

But as the cats made their way alongside the horseplace, their ears twitched at an ominous thundering sound.

Something’s coming our way! Alderheart thought, feeling the ground tremble under the force of giant paw steps. The creature was hidden for the moment by the barn where Smoky and Coriander lived, but it was drawing closer by the heartbeat.

All the cats had halted, staring toward the barn. Then the charging creature burst into the open. Alderheart gazed at it, transfixed. It was a horse, much smaller than any of the horses he had seen before, but its muscles were powerful, and its huge, hard paws threw up tussocks of grass as it thundered toward the cats.

“A horse kit!” Hootwhisker gasped.

There was a shiny metal mesh between the cats and the horse kit, but it rampaged across the grass straight for them, as if it meant to leap the barrier or break straight through it.

“Scatter!” Sparkpelt squealed.

The group broke up as every cat raced in a different direction. Alderheart headed for the marshes and found himself squelching through belly-deep mud with reeds raking through his pelt. For a few moments he had no idea where the other cats were.

Glancing over his shoulder, Alderheart saw the horse kit come to a snorting halt at the barrier. Tossing its head, it trotted alongside the mesh for a few paw steps, then halted and lowered its head to start cropping the grass.

Alderheart realized that the horse kit probably hadn’t meant to frighten them. Maybe it didn’t see us here at all. It was just playing, like our kits. All the same, he was grateful for the mesh barrier.

After struggling to pull each paw out of the glutinous mud, Alderheart made his way back to the lakeshore. Gradually the other cats joined him. Sparkpelt was even stickier than he was, Larkwing was limping from setting her paw down on a sharp pebble, and Featherpelt had dashed into the lake to stand shivering in the shallows until she realized the danger was over. She waded out, hissing irritably, and showered the other cats with water droplets as she shook herself.

“I’m never going to get my pelt clean!” Sparkpelt exclaimed.

“We’ll find some long grass for you to roll in,” Twigpaw meowed; she had escaped with no more than a few muddy splashes on her fur.

Sparkpelt let out a snort. “It’ll take from now to next newleaf!”

“Let’s get going,” Alderheart urged with a sigh. There had better be watermint, after all this!

The two patrols continued along the lakeshore, passing the tree-bridge that led to the Gathering island, until they reached the stream that marked the RiverClan border.

“There’s the watermint!” Twigpaw squealed in excitement. “Lots of it! I’ll get some.”

She bounded forward to where thick clumps of watermint were growing on both sides of the stream, purple flowers still visible at the end of the spiky stems.

“Be careful!” Sparkpelt called after her.

Twigpaw plunged in among the plants and began to pick the stems, biting them off carefully toward the bottom. The other cats followed her more slowly; Featherpelt began picking herbs for WindClan, while Hootwhisker and Larkwing kept watch on the RiverClan territory across the stream.

Alderheart was padding up to the nearest clump of watermint when a yowl of alarm came from Twigpaw. Alderheart spun around to see her tottering on the very edge of the stream. She would have fallen in if Sparkpelt hadn’t dived forward through the herbs, grabbed her by the scruff, and dragged her back to safety.

“Stupid furball!” Sparkpelt snapped, standing over her apprentice with her tail lashing. “I told you to be careful. And she dropped all her watermint into the stream,” she added to Alderheart as he hurried up. Her voice was loud, echoing for fox-lengths, and Alderheart was worried that the noise, along with Twigpaw’s yowling, would attract attention from RiverClan across the stream.

“Never mind; there’s plenty more,” Alderheart pointed out. “Twigpaw, are you okay?”

Twigpaw nodded; she was looking particularly miserable. “I’m sorry,” she mewed. “I was only trying to help. The edge of the bank gave way under my paws.”