River Of Fire

CHAPTER 12

The sun was going down, shining fitfully through gaps in the cloud and casting dark shadows across the stone hollow. Alderheart brushed past the bramble screen into the camp, and stood taking deep breaths. The air was warm and clammy, and all day the clouds had been so low they almost touched the tops of the trees.

Alderheart gave silent thanks to StarClan that Leafpool was recovering from the sickness, though she was still too shaky to return to her duties. Whitewing had also taken a turn for the better, and could be treated in the apprentices’ den with the other sick cats. Squirrelflight was responding well to his treatment and getting stronger every day.

However, for all his efforts, sickness was still rampaging through the camp. Molewhisker and Hollytuft had joined the sick cats in the apprentices’ den, and worst of all, that morning Jayfeather had started vomiting.

He has to be the worst patient ever, since the Clans came to the lake, Alderheart thought with a sigh. He felt that every hair on his pelt was drooping with exhaustion.

As Alderheart stood outside his den, a thin, chilly breeze started up, rattling the leaves of the trees at the top of the cliff. In the distance he spotted a crack of lightning, followed almost at once by a boom of thunder that echoed around the stone walls of the hollow.

Alderheart stiffened, his fur prickling with apprehension. Great StarClan, that sounded close!

The breeze strengthened and became a powerful wind that scoured through the camp, flattening the ferns and throwing up dust from the earth floor. Fat drops of rain began to fall. Overhead, lightning cracked again, and thunder rolled out even closer than before.

“Take shelter!” Alderheart yowled to the other cats who were out in the camp, staring up at the sky with bristling pelts.

Seeing them dive for their dens, he whipped around and went back into his own den, wondering what he needed to do for all the sick cats. After the Great Storm, the Clan had worked out how to deal with another flood, but Alderheart wasn’t sure whether this would be a big enough storm to start evacuating the camp.

Slipping back into the den, Alderheart saw Leafpool sitting up in her nest, alarm in her eyes as she listened to the chaos outside. Jayfeather was resting with his nose on his paws, apparently asleep.

Thank StarClan for that! Alderheart thought.

“Do you think we ought to start moving the cats into the tunnels?” he asked Leafpool.

She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “Bramblestar will give the order if he thinks the storm is bad enough,” she replied. “Meanwhile, all we can do is wait and see.” She flinched at another growl of thunder that sounded as if a gigantic cat was crouched at the top of the cliff. “Maybe we’d better move Briarlight, though,” she added. “She’ll be harder to move if the weather gets any worse.”

“I’ll see to it,” Alderheart mewed.

He pushed past the bramble screen once more and stared up at the sky. Rain swept across the camp, driven by the wind, and as Alderheart gazed upward, he flinched at another crackling claw of lightning.

Is this the storm? he wondered. The storm that the dark sky must not herald?

A weight of apprehension gathered in Alderheart’s belly. He couldn’t help thinking that maybe Leafstar’s gesture of letting Sleekwhisker and Yarrowleaf stay in SkyClan was not enough. Perhaps we should have done more to revive ShadowClan, like Twigpaw said—and perhaps we should have tried harder to bring RiverClan back among us.

Bracing himself for the cold and wet, Alderheart dashed out into the storm and headed for the warriors’ den. The rain had turned the dusty earth of the camp into mud that splashed up into his belly fur as he pelted across the open space. Sticking his head through a gap in the brambles that lined the walls of the den, Alderheart saw his Clanmates curled up in their nests, buried as deeply as possible in moss and bracken to avoid the chilly drops of rain that penetrated the roof.

“Wake up,” he meowed. “I need two of you to come and help me move Briarlight.”

“I will,” Sorrelstripe volunteered immediately.

Ambermoon rose to her paws and shook off the scraps of bedding that clung to her pelt. “And me.”

Together the two she-cats brushed past Alderheart and raced across the camp to the nursery. Alderheart followed.

At the entrance to the nursery Twigpaw was crouching, peering out at the sky. “Are you as worried about this as I am?” she asked, as Alderheart slipped into shelter and stood shivering.

“Maybe,” Alderheart responded, his voice a bit sharper than he had intended.

It was less than a half-moon since Twigpaw had come back from sneaking off to SkyClan camp, excited at the idea the two of them had come up with, to persuade Tawnypelt to become the leader of a rebuilt ShadowClan. Sparkpelt and Bramblestar had both been furious with Twigpaw.

It sounded like Tawnypelt and some of the other former ShadowClan cats were intrigued by the idea. But it wasn’t a ThunderClan apprentice’s job to challenge the leadership of other Clans.

I understand she’s concerned, Alderheart thought. But even I have to admit she really overstepped. ShadowClan is none of our business.

He was a bit hurt, too, that Twigpaw hadn’t taken his advice, or seen fit to talk over her idea with him before heading off to SkyClan. I’m a medicine cat, and I would have told her that no cat can install a new leader without StarClan’s approval.

“Did you hear anything about ShadowClan at last night’s half-moon meeting?” Twigpaw asked.

The question did nothing to make Alderheart feel friendlier toward her. The meeting at the Moonpool was medicine-cat business, and it was up to them how much they revealed. But in this case, there was nothing much to say.

“Puddleshine reported that he was busy looking after Yarrowleaf and her two kits,” he replied. “But he can’t support the idea of reviving ShadowClan without a sign from StarClan. And none of us received a sign last night.”

Twigpaw was visibly disappointed, crouching lower with her head drooping. Alderheart instantly felt sorry that he had been cool toward her. But just then Ambermoon and Sorrelstripe approached from the depths of the nursery, carrying Briarlight between them, and he decided that he had better concentrate on what he had to do.

“Take her up to the tunnel where the Clan camped in the Great Storm,” he directed. “I’ll follow in a few heartbeats and check on her.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Briarlight meowed stoutly. “I love getting my fur wet!”

Alderheart noticed, as the two warriors carried her past him, that Sorrelstripe was staggering a little, and her eyes were fixed and glassy. Oh, not another one! was his first thought. Then he decided that the dark brown she-cat was probably just tired. StarClan knows, life’s been tough enough lately.

When Briarlight and her escorts had disappeared into the rain, Alderheart headed toward the medicine-cat den. But before he had gone more than a few paw steps, a yowl of alarm from behind made him turn back.

He was in time to see the wind lift a whole section of the nursery roof and send it flapping away into the storm. More yowls came from the cats inside, and shrill wails of terror from the kits.

Alderheart splashed back through the puddles and dived into the nursery. Rain was pouring through the gap in the roof, soaking the side of the nursery where Briarlight had been sleeping.

We moved her just in time! Alderheart thought. Thank StarClan!

Cinderheart and Blossomfall had shrunk away from the gap to the far side of the nursery, each drawing her kits close to the curve of her body to shelter them from the cold and wet. Ivypool, Daisy, and Twigpaw were dragging over what bedding they could save from the rain.

“Alderheart, what shall we do?” Blossomfall asked. “We can’t stay here—what if the rest of the roof gives way?”

For a heartbeat Alderheart struggled with panic. Where can they possibly shelter? “The elders’ den is closest,” he meowed at last. “Graystripe and Millie will be delighted to have kits to look after.”

Stemkit immediately bounced to his paws. “Will Graystripe tell us stories?” he asked.

“Yes!” his sister Eaglekit squealed. “I want to hear about Firestar and the old forest.”

“Certainly not. You need to sleep,” their mother, Blossomheart, scolded. “And so does Graystripe.”

In the midst of the chaos, Alderheart stifled a small mrrow of amusement. I don’t think any of them will get much sleep tonight.

When he had sent his Clanmates on their way—the she-cats carrying Cinderheart’s younger litter, while Blossomfall’s kits pattered alongside—Alderheart raced back to the medicine-cat den. The wind was stronger still, almost enough to carry him off his paws. It had blown rain into the den past the brambles; Leafpool and Jayfeather—who was awake now, Alderheart noticed with a sinking heart—were both crouching in their nests, cold and wet and miserable.

“Where have you been?” Jayfeather rasped, rising to his paws and arching his back. “Get me out of here before I’m washed away in the flood! And I need more watermint.”

Alderheart sighed. Jayfeather was a brilliant medicine cat, but when he was ill, taking care of him was worse than facing down a whole den of badgers.

“No cat is going to get washed away,” Alderheart assured him. “The ground is muddy, but there’s no flooding. But I am worried about the prophecy,” he admitted. “‘The dark sky must not herald a storm.’”

Jayfeather looked briefly disconcerted. “You said yourself, there’s no flooding,” he reminded Alderheart after a moment. “Perhaps this is just a little rain. When StarClan wants to make a point, they’re not what you could call subtle.”

Unconvinced, Alderheart let out a sigh. “As for the watermint,” he told Jayfeather, “it’s stored safely in the rock, where it will keep dry. You’ll just have to wait for a while. And Leafpool,” he added, turning to the other medicine cat, “don’t let him bully you into fetching it. You need to rest.”

“Yes, O great one,” Leafpool murmured, a glimmer of amusement in her amber eyes.

“Some medicine cat you are,” Jayfeather grumbled, wrapping his tail over his nose. “You should have a bit of what you need on you at all times.”

And where do I put it? Alderheart asked himself. In my ears?

After heading out of the den, he left the camp and climbed the slope to the tunnel openings where the Clan had sheltered during the Great Storm. Alderheart hadn’t been born then, but he had heard the stories of what had happened, especially from the old tabby Purdy.

A pang of grief shook Alderheart. Great StarClan, I miss Purdy!

He found Ambermoon and Sorrelstripe with Briarlight near the mouth of the biggest tunnel. Somewhere they had managed to find some dry bracken to make a nest.

“Is every cat okay?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Ambermoon replied cheerfully. “Don’t worry about us.”

“It’s good to get out of camp for a while,” Briarlight added.

Alderheart gave Sorrelstripe a close look, but though she was quiet she didn’t seem ill, and he couldn’t scent sickness on her.

“I’ll come and tell you when it’s safe to return,” he meowed, and left them with a wave of his tail.

By this time it was almost dark. Alderheart had to watch where he was putting his paws as he made his way back down the slope. The grass was slippery from the rain, and more than once he almost lost his balance, digging in his claws to stop himself rolling down head over paws.

Before he had gone many fox-lengths, he jumped as he heard the loudest crack yet, and stood frozen while the hillside around him was bathed in a brilliant frosty light.

That’s the closest so far, he thought.

From where he was standing, way above the camp, he could see into the far distance. An orange glow lit up the sky in the direction of SkyClan territory.

Fire!

Alderheart tried to work out exactly where it was. Dread filled him like rain filling an upturned leaf as he realized that flames could be devouring the SkyClan camp.

Forgetting to be careful, Alderheart launched himself down the slope. He slipped and skidded on mud and wet grass, desperate to reach the camp. Once, his paws shot out from under him, and he rolled over and over until he slammed into a jutting rock, the breath driven out of him. He picked himself up, then pelted on until he bounded through the thorn tunnel and into the camp.

“Bramblestar!” he yowled. “Bramblestar!”

Bramblestar appeared on the Highledge, his pelt soaked and plastered to his sides, as if he had just been making the rounds of the camp. “What is it, Alderheart?” he called.

“Fire!” Alderheart replied, gesturing with his tail. “Over there, near SkyClan!”

Bramblestar leaped down the tumbled rocks. By now the fire had risen so high in the sky that the orange glow was visible from the stone hollow. The Clan leader took one look, then dived into the warriors’ den, reappearing a moment later with Stormcloud and Leafshade.

“Go and find out what’s happening,” Bramblestar ordered. “Don’t get too close—just find out if it’s near a camp, and if any other Clan needs our help.”

“We’re on it,” Leafshade meowed.

The two cats bounded past Alderheart, who heard Stormcloud mutter, “This is just like old times!”

Alderheart remembered that Stormcloud had been a kittypet who had sheltered with ThunderClan during the Great Storm, and had decided to stay and train as a warrior. It must be tough for him, remembering what the last flood was like. Purdy told me his brother died.

Alderheart watched the two warriors go, then turned toward the medicine cats’ den. There might be nothing I can do about the storm, but I can at least find Jayfeather his watermint, and maybe that will shut him up for a while.

By moonhigh, the rain had almost stopped, and the clouds had cleared enough for a faint silver light to filter down into the camp. Alderheart’s fear receded, and he began to feel more confident.

Perhaps Jayfeather was right. Perhaps it was just a little rain.

Cats were out in the open, beginning to clear away the debris. Brackenfur was busy patching the nursery roof, with Twigpaw and Finpaw fetching bramble and ivy tendrils to help him. Already the gaping hole had almost vanished.

Things will be back to normal before we know it, Alderheart thought. At least, I hope they will.

He was about to head out of camp to tell Ambermoon and Sorrelstripe to bring Briarlight back, when he saw Stormcloud and Leafshade thrusting their way through the thorn tunnel. Alderheart was relieved to see them both returning unhurt, and took a pace forward to greet them.

Then he halted in surprise. Two cats Alderheart had never seen before followed his Clanmates into the camp. In the lead was a little tom with fuzzy ginger tabby fur, bouncing energetically around the warriors’ paws so that they almost tripped over him. Behind him, limping a little, was a she-cat with long, silky gray fur and amber eyes.

Wow, she’s a pretty cat! Alderheart thought.

She was holding something in her jaws; at first Alderheart thought it was a mouse, but then he realized it was just a scrap of fur. Why is she carrying that? he wondered.

While Alderheart hesitated, Bramblestar had appeared from his den, and he halted beside him with a disapproving glare. More of the Clan were padding over too, gathering around to stare curiously at the newcomers.

“What’s this?” Bramblestar demanded. “Strange cats?”

“They’re kittypets,” Leafshade explained. “We ran into them when we were on our way to investigate the fire. They say it’s in the Twolegplace over there, and they were running away from it.”

“My name’s Fuzzball!” the small, lively tom announced, bouncing confidently up to Bramblestar. “And my friend is called Velvet. She got burned, so we came to you to ask for help.”

“How do you know about the Clans?” Alderheart asked.

“Oh, I kind of knew where you were,” Fuzzball replied. “And I knew if anyone could help us, it would be warrior cats! I’ve heard how you fight, and stalk prey, and talk to the stars, and how you’re the bravest cats ever! I know how—”

“You’ll have to excuse Fuzzball,” Velvet mewed, dropping the piece of fur she was carrying. “There’s nothing between his ears except for dreams of Clan cats, so he’s very excited to be here.”

“That’s all very flattering,” Bramblestar meowed, giving the little tom a harassed glance. “But the Clans don’t take in kittypets. It’s for your own good,” he added, as Fuzzball’s whiskers drooped dejectedly. “It’s a different life here in the forest, and kittypets aren’t prepared for the dangers. You’ll have to leave.”

Alderheart couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in the kittypets’ eyes, particularly Velvet’s. “Look at them,” he told Bramblestar. “The she-cat is wounded. They’re covered with soot, and obviously exhausted. They must have traveled a long way to ask for our help. At least let me treat Velvet’s wound before we send them back to their Twolegs!”

When Bramblestar still seemed undecided, Stormcloud stepped forward. “You took in kittypets during the Great Storm,” he reminded his Clan leader. “I know, because I was one of them. And that didn’t turn out too badly, did it?”

Bramblestar sighed. “I thought you might say that. . . .”

“Please,” Velvet begged him. “My burn is hurting a lot. A huge bolt of fire came from the sky, right outside my housefolk’s den. It hit a tree, and the tree fell onto the den, so that caught fire too. And so did all the dens around it. Fuzzball and I only just managed to get out, and I grabbed what was left of my favorite toy.” She reached out one paw and gave the scrap of fur an affectionate pat. “I suppose you wild cats think that’s silly, but it gives me comfort.”

Alderheart was aware that Leafshade and some of the other cats who had clustered around were suppressing amusement, but he didn’t think it at all funny that the beautiful she-cat had needed something from her old home to help her face the dangers of the forest. “It’s not silly at all,” he defended her.

“We’d go home if we could,” Velvet went on with a grateful glance at Alderheart, “but there were horrible wailing noises, and a huge monster showed up with its lights flashing. Our housefolk fled; we don’t even know where they are.”

“It would be cruel to turn them away,” Alderheart pointed out to Bramblestar. “They’ve got nowhere else to go, and they’re tired and wet from their journey.”

Bramblestar clearly wasn’t happy about letting in the two kittypets, but eventually he nodded. “I suppose you can stay until the fire is out and your Twolegs come back,” he meowed with a snort. “But not a heartbeat longer.”

Fuzzball let out a long, excited screech and began jumping up and down. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Thank you,” Velvet mewed more quietly, her amber gaze warm. “I promise you, we won’t be any trouble.”

“See that you’re not,” Bramblestar grunted. “And stay out from under every cat’s paws.” With that he stepped back and gathered his warriors around him with a wave of his tail, beginning to give them instructions about checking out the camp after the storm.

“Come with me,” Alderheart directed the two kittypets. “My name is Alderheart, and I’m a medicine cat. You can stay in my den while—”

“What’s a medicine cat?” Fuzzball interrupted, gazing up into Alderheart’s face.

“I heal cats who are hurt or sick,” Alderheart explained, leading the way to his den, “and I’ll heal Velvet’s burn and check you over if—”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Fuzzball assured him. Alderheart wondered if he would ever be allowed to finish what he was saying. “I’d like to help. What can I do?”

Alderheart thought that the best way of shutting him up would be to give him a job to do. But what could a kittypet do to help Clan cats? Then he halted, blinking. I’ve just had a great idea!

“Come with me,” he told Fuzzball. “I’ve got the perfect job for you.”

“Great!” Fuzzball squeaked. “I’m going to be a Clan cat!”

On the way back to his den, Alderheart spotted Twigpaw carrying a bundle of wet bedding out of the nursery. He beckoned her over with his tail.

“Twigpaw, is the nursery okay now?” he asked.

Twigpaw nodded vigorously. “Brackenfur’s really good at repairs,” she mewed.

“We won’t disturb the kits until tomorrow,” Alderheart continued. “But when you’ve dumped that bedding, will you go up to the tunnel and tell Ambermoon and Sorrelstripe that they can bring Briarlight back? I’ll come and see her when she’s settled in the nursery again.”

“Sure thing!” Twigpaw responded, spinning around and bounding toward the thorn tunnel.

“Thanks!” Alderheart called after her.

He padded on, with Velvet and Fuzzball still following, gazing around at the camp with wide and wondering eyes. As he reached his den, Birchfall limped on three legs, holding up one of his forepaws. Cherryfall was just behind him.

“Alderheart, I trod on a thorn in all this mess,” Birchfall announced. “And I can’t get it out. Can you help?”

“And I slipped in the mud and wrenched my shoulder,” Cherryfall added.

“Okay, I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Alderheart responded. “Wait out here, and I’ll be back when I’ve seen to these kittypets.”

Leading the way past the bramble screen, Alderheart saw that Leafpool was curled up asleep in her nest, while Jayfeather was sitting up, irritably scratching at his ear with one hind paw. To Alderheart’s relief he saw that there was enough dry bedding stored by the back wall of the den to make nests for the two kittypets.

“This is Leafpool,” he told them, pointing with his tail, “and this is Jayfeather. They’re both medicine cats, but right now they’re here because they’re sick with bellyache.”

“Greetings,” Velvet mewed with a polite dip of her head, while Fuzzball squeaked, “Hi!” with another excited bounce.

Jayfeather merely glared at the pair of them, not returning their greeting. “My nest is full of thorns,” he snapped at Alderheart.

“Then I’ve got just the thing for you,” Alderheart responded. “This is Fuzzball.” He urged the little tom forward with a sweep of his tail, and Fuzzball seemed to be trembling with eagerness to help. “Fuzzball will be looking after all your needs from now on,” he continued. “Thorns in your nest? Need your bedding fluffed? Ask Fuzzball. Need water? Ask Fuzzball!”

“I don’t believe this!” Jayfeather growled. “What are you meowing about?”

Before Alderheart could reply, Fuzzball hurled himself at Jayfeather and crouched down beside him, beginning to part the fern fronds and clumps of moss as he searched for thorns.

“Are you blind?” he asked Jayfeather, staring at his eyes. “What’s it like being blind? How did it happen?”

Jayfeather opened his jaws: not to reply, Alderheart guessed, but to deliver a stinging rebuke. But Fuzzball chattered on obliviously. “Was it in a fight with a badger? Or a dog? Did the dog die? Is your belly hurting? How bad? Would you like me to rub it?”

Turning his head, Jayfeather glared at Alderheart, almost as if he could see him. “When I get better, I’m going to kill you,” he grumbled.

Alderheart backed away, whiskers twitching with amusement, and saw the same amusement glimmering in Velvet’s eyes. “We’ll make a nest for you,” he told her, “and then you can get some sleep.”

Velvet put down the scrap of fur she had brought with her into the den. “Later,” she mewed. “I wouldn’t be able to relax, knowing how busy you are. You have a lot of cats to take care of, and I’d like to help you.”

Alderheart gave her a doubtful look; he didn’t think she would know enough to help a Clan medicine cat.

“I lived as a stray for a while,” Velvet continued, clearly understanding his hesitation. “I had to take care of myself, and I learned a thing or two about herbs and healing. If you don’t mind, I’d rather help you tend the sick cats and make myself useful.”

Surprised, Alderheart blinked in gratitude at her offer. “Okay,” he mewed. “Let me treat your wound first, and then you can help, as long as you don’t move around too much.”

“Okay,” Velvet agreed.

Alderheart headed for the back of the den to the herb store in the cleft rock. He skirted Jayfeather’s nest, where Fuzzball was telling him all about the fire.

“The flames were so high—higher than our housefolk’s nest! The sparks flew right up into the sky. . . .”

Jayfeather had his eyes closed and his tail over his nose, as if he was pretending none of this was happening.

Alderheart returned to Velvet with a fat black root in his jaws. “This is burdock root,” he told her. “You can chew it up, if you like, but don’t swallow it. I’ll use it to make a poultice for your burn.”

Velvet sniffed the root, then licked the end of it. “Ooh, bitter!”

“I can do it if you’d rather,” Alderheart offered.

“No, I’ll do it. I’d like to learn new things while I’m here.”

Alderheart watched Velvet chewing a bite of the root, then asked her, “So you haven’t always been a kittypet?”

“No,” Velvet replied, spitting out the pulp. “My first housefolk went away and left me behind, so I was a stray for a couple of seasons, but then the weather got cold, so I found some new housefolk.”

“How did you do that?” Alderheart asked as he began to pat the burdock-root pulp onto Velvet’s burned leg.

Velvet let out a small mrrow of laughter. “I sat outside their den and meowed, and when they came out, I looked sad.” She raised her head with her eyes stretched wide and a pathetic expression on her face. “It worked.”

I’m sure it did. Alderheart couldn’t imagine Twolegs being able to resist such a pretty cat. Talking to her is really nice, he thought. But I’d better get back to work.

“Keep still,” he mewed, “and I’ll fetch some cobweb to bind the poultice in place.”

“It feels better already,” Velvet told him, with a long sigh of relief. “You must be a great medicine cat.”

Alderheart heard a snort from the direction of Jayfeather’s nest, but he took no notice.

Once Velvet’s leg was firmly bound up, Alderheart headed outside to see to the cats who were waiting for him. Velvet followed him.

“Can you take out a thorn?” Alderheart asked her.

“Oh, yes, no problem,” Velvet replied. “If you don’t mind?” she mewed, with a questioning glance at Birchfall.

Birchfall looked surprised, but for answer he sat down and stretched out the injured paw. “I’d put up with a badger if it could get rid of this wretched thing,” he meowed.

After making sure Velvet knew what she was doing, Alderheart was turning to Cherryfall when Sorrelstripe came padding over from the nursery.

“Is Briarlight okay?” Alderheart asked her.

“Yes, she’s settled in again,” the brown she-cat replied. “But I have to tell you . . . I vomited while we were up in the tunnel. And my belly aches really badly.”

Oh, no, not another one, Alderheart thought. Aloud he mewed, “You need watermint, and—”

He broke off as the skies opened again and without any warning rain began falling in torrents, a renewed storm even fiercer than the one before. Alderheart’s pelt was soaked in heartbeats.

“Quick, into the den!” he yowled, turning to the other cats. “Squeeze inside and—”

An enormous crack interrupted him, and another claw of lightning crashed down, impossibly bright and leaving Alderheart half blinded and stumbling through the puddles. As his vision cleared, he saw orange light flaring into the sky.

Fire had struck again, but this time it was much closer. The ominous glow was lighting up the sky over the territories of WindClan and RiverClan.