River Of Fire

“The other first leaders and I led groups of cats, each group finding the place—moor, forest, river, or marsh—best suited to those cats’ characters and abilities. These groups, which would become the five Clans, then united in purpose for all our survival,” Shadowstar explained. “Only by working together, five separate but connected groups, like the petals of the blazing star, could we survive. Now you—not just ShadowClan, but the ancestors of all the Clans—must send a message to the living cats.” Her eyes glowed, the color of sunlight on fresh leaves, as she added, “There must be five Clans! ShadowClan must be saved!”

“But it’s too late,” Dawnpelt mewed wretchedly.

“We’ve already given the Clans a prophecy,” Blackstar pointed out. “But they’re ignoring it.”

Shadowstar lashed her tail. “If the fifth Clan is not saved, worse things will come than a storm,” she meowed. “Eventually it will mean the end of all the remaining Clans. And if we have no living cats to guide, it will mean the end of StarClan itself.”

A shocked silence fell over the group of starry warriors. None of them had ever imagined a time when there would be no StarClan.

It was Needletail who broke the silence. “In that case,” she responded, raising a paw to smooth her whiskers, “we’d better get working on the right message to send. . . .”

CHAPTER 1

“Look at this tree!” Finpaw exclaimed. “It’s huge! Do you think there are squirrels up there?”

Twigpaw halted, suppressing a sigh of exasperation as she watched Finpaw scamper over to a massive oak tree and balance precariously on a thick, gnarled root. Her paws were tingling with anxiety and anticipation. She didn’t want to stop again; she wanted to be at ThunderClan’s camp.

What if they don’t want us?

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Twigpaw responded, firmly pushing her nervousness away. “But we’re not hunting now. Remember, we have to reach the ThunderClan camp before it gets dark.”

Already the sun was starting to go down, flooding the forest floor with scarlet light, barred with the long, dark shadows of trees. Twigpaw and Finpaw had spent most of the afternoon traveling from the SkyClan camp, slowed down by Finpaw’s irrepressible urge to explore.

“I can’t wait!” Finpaw leaped off the root and raced across the grass to rejoin Twigpaw. She had to step back abruptly to save herself from being knocked over. Finpaw’s tail flipped into her face.

“Hey, watch it!” she exclaimed with a glare.

“Sorry.” Finpaw veered in front of Twigpaw, and she almost fell over her own paws trying to avoid him. “Do you think they’ll be pleased to see us?”

A flutter of anticipation woke inside Twigpaw’s belly at the thought of meeting her old Clanmates again. I tried so hard to be a SkyClan warrior, she thought. But my heart is in ThunderClan. I’m so glad I made the decision to come back . . . and even happier that Finpaw decided to come with me. Surely they’ll welcome us. ThunderClan is my home.

“I’m sure they will,” she replied to Finpaw.

“Is it true what they say about ThunderClan?” Finpaw asked as the two young cats walked on side by side. He stretched his jaws into an enormous yawn. “Are they really so bossy, always telling other cats what to do?”

Twigpaw wasn’t sure how to reply. She knew that was exactly the way the other Clans sometimes viewed Bramblestar’s cats, but she had lived with ThunderClan for many moons, and she knew there was no simple answer.

Besides, she had more important things on her mind. Even though she had told Finpaw she was sure ThunderClan would be pleased to see them, she couldn’t help wondering how they would really react when she and her friend walked into their camp. They will be happy, right? Surely they’ve missed me since I chose to go with my father?

Twigpaw’s father, Hawkwing, was the deputy of SkyClan, and every cat had expected she would stay in the newly settled Clan with him and her sister, Violetshine.

But I wasn’t raised there, she told herself. It took me a while to realize how big a part ThunderClan has played in my life, right from when I was a kit.

As they rounded a bramble thicket, a familiar scent drifted over Twigpaw; she opened her jaws to taste the air more carefully.

“What is it?” Finpaw asked. “Is it prey? I’m starving!”

“No,” Twigpaw replied. “It’s the ThunderClan border scent markers. We’re almost home! Come on!”