River Of Fire

Twigpaw nodded feebly, tried to speak, and coughed up a mouthful of water. “Thank you,” she gasped when she could breathe again. “Finpaw, I never knew you could swim like that.”

Finpaw shrugged. “I was born by a lake,” he responded. “Don’t all cats swim?”

Mistystar let out a faint mrrow of amusement. “Maybe you should be a RiverClan cat,” she told Finpaw.

“Paws off!” Alderheart retorted. “He’s ours!”

Bramblestar padded up, looking down at Finpaw and Twigpaw with an approving glow in his amber eyes. “Finpaw is full of surprises,” he murmured. “And as for you, Twigpaw, that was very brave.”

“It was,” Mistystar agreed, bending down to touch Twigpaw’s head with her nose. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

Twigpaw struggled to her paws, pride warming her from ears to tail-tip. But then, gazing past Mistystar, she saw the fire still burning in the RiverClan camp.

What does StarClan have in store for us next? she wondered anxiously. Our troubles aren’t over, not by a long shot. But how much worse can everything get?

CHAPTER 14

Frosty lightning flashed over the forest for a heartbeat, leaving Violetshine blinking as the dim, leafy daylight surged back. She winced as thunder crashed overhead and rolled on through the trees until she felt as if her head would burst with the sound.

“Fox dung!” Sandynose, who was leading the hunting patrol, let out a furious exclamation as the sound died away. “I nearly had that blackbird, until the lightning scared it off.”

Macgyver winced from the noise and dropped the mouse he had just caught. “Maybe we should call it a day,” he suggested.

Before he had finished speaking, Violetshine could feel a chilly wind rising. Branches above her began to creak, and dead leaves whirled in the air. All three cats exchanged alarmed glances.

“I think you’re right,” Sandynose meowed. “Let’s take what we’ve caught so far and head back to camp. This is going to be a powerful storm!”

Violetshine gazed upward to where dark clouds were massing, covering the setting sun and casting an eerie twilight over the forest. She shivered as the first icy drops of rain splashed onto her fur.

The words of the prophecy crept unbidden into her mind: The dark sky must not herald a storm.

The ominous prediction reminded her of how she had talked to Puddleshine and Tawnypelt over the last quarter moon. She knew that Puddleshine wasn’t sure that ShadowClan should rise again, or that StarClan would support Tawnypelt as leader.

But what if that’s a mistake? Violetshine wondered, shivering more deeply at the thought. Is this the storm we’ve been warned about? Are we too late to stop it?

Macgyver picked up his mouse again while Violetshine fetched the squirrel she had left among the roots of an oak tree, and Sandynose retrieved another mouse and a thrush. Carrying their prey, the three cats set off at a fast trot toward the SkyClan camp. The rain grew heavier with every paw step they took, until the sound grew to a steady pattering on the canopy. The trees shielded the cats from the worst of the deluge, though Violetshine flinched at the lash of icy rain whenever wind thrust the branches apart.

As she followed Sandynose, Violetshine spotted the gleam of a golden pelt among the trees several fox-lengths away. It vanished almost at once; Violetshine paused for a moment, her whiskers twitching in puzzlement as she gazed after it.

Was that Sleekwhisker? she asked herself. Where does she think she’s going, all by herself?

It wasn’t wrong for warriors to hunt alone, or just to go for a walk, but it was odd for any cat to be heading away from camp when the storm was getting worse with every heartbeat.

Then Violetshine shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t Sleekwhisker. And even if it was, it’s none of my business what she does. I might say something to Leafstar, though, once the storm is over.

“Hey, Violetshine!” Sandynose called back to her. “Are you coming, or do you want to get soaked all the way through?”

Violetshine raced to catch up with her Clanmates. As they drew closer to the camp, she could feel anxiety prickling through her pelt, as though she were trying to push her way through a thicket of brambles. She knew it wasn’t because of the odd sighting of Sleekwhisker, but she couldn’t think of any other reason.

What’s the matter with me? she asked herself.