Erin Hunter - A Dangerous Path

“No,” Fireheart replied. “Tallstar seemed willing to meet Bluestar in peace, and if we’re lucky he’ll have only one or two warriors with him. It won’t come to a fight.”

“That’s a pretty big if,” mewed Mousefur with a skeptical flick of her tail. “What if WindClan assume the same thing, and set an ambush for us? We’d be crowfood.” Fireheart winced as she voiced Whitestorm’s own doubts about whether they could trust Tallstar.

“I’m not going,” Longtail announced loudly. “Let WindClan tear us apart? I’m not mouse-brained!”

Dustpelt, who was sitting next to him, turned his head and gave him a scorching look of contempt. “No, you’re a coward,” he meowed.

“I’m not!” Longtail’s protest was shrill. “I’m a loyal ThunderClan cat!”

“Fine, Longtail,” Fireheart broke in. “We don’t need every warrior to go. You can stay and guard the camp. And that goes for the rest of you,” he added. “If you don’t want to be part of this, stay here.” He waited tensely for his warriors’ response, looking around at their troubled faces in the dim light of the den.

“I’ll go,” meowed Whitestorm at last. “I think we can trust Tallstar not to fight, if there is an alternative.”

Fireheart shot him a grateful glance as the other warriors hesitated, murmuring to each other or shifting uncomfortably among the mossy bedding.

“I’ll go too.” Brackenfur sounded nervous to be the first to speak among so many older warriors.

“So will I,” mewed Dustpelt. His tail lashed once in Fireheart’s direction. “But if WindClan attack, I’ll fight. I’m not going to be clawed apart for any cat.”

The rest of the warriors joined in. To Fireheart’s surprise, Darkstripe agreed to go, while Mousefur refused.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” she meowed. “I think you’re talking sense, but that’s not the point. The warrior code isn’t something you stick to just when you feel like it. I don’t think I could disobey my leader if she ordered me to attack.”

“Well, I will go,” Brindleface asserted. “I don’t want to see my kits torn to pieces in a battle we don’t have to fight.”

“I’ll go too,” meowed Frostfur. Her gaze swept over the warriors around her as she added, “We don’t raise kits to fight in unjust battles.”

At last Fireheart had to face Sandstorm, who so far had said nothing. He could not imagine what he would do if she refused to support him.” Sandstorm?” he mewed hesitantly.

Sandstorm crouched with her head down, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll go along with you, Fireheart,” she muttered. “I know you’re right about the dogs—but I still hate lying to Bluestar.”

Fireheart moved to her side and gave her ear a quick lick, wanting to thank her, but she jerked her head away without looking at him.

“What about the apprentices?” Darkstripe asked. “Do you want them to come with us? Fernpaw’s too young to get involved.”

“I agree,” Dustpelt mewed swiftly.

For all his tension Fireheart had to suppress a purr of amusement to hear Dustpelt betraying the soft spot he felt for Darkstripe’s apprentice.

“I’d prefer to keep Brightpaw out of it,” meowed Whitestorm.

“But won’t Bluestar think there’s something odd if we don’t take any apprentices with us?” asked Brackenfur.

“That’s a good point.” Fireheart nodded at the young warrior. “Okay, we’ll take Swiftpaw and Cloudpaw. But only if Bluestar wants to take that many cats with her, and we’ll tell them what’s going on after we leave. The news will be all around the camp otherwise.”

Fireheart realized to his surprise that he had more warriors on his side than he needed. If Ravenpaw made it to the camp on time and Bluestar agreed to go and talk to Tallstar, it would seem odd if a whole fighting patrol of warriors offered to go with her. Besides, he didn’t want to leave the camp vulnerable to attack, especially now. “Why don’t Frostfur and Brackenfur stay to help guard the camp?” he suggested. “I am grateful for your support, but you may be needed here.”

Brackenfur and Frostfur exchanged a glance and then nodded.

“Now the rest of you had better get some sleep,” he continued. “We leave at moonset.”

He watched the warriors settle down in their bedding, but he did not join them. He knew he had no chance of sleeping, and he wanted to tell Cinderpelt what was going on before she heard it from any other cat. If it weren’t for his faith in Spottedleaf, he would have started to doubt long ago that he could stop this battle. There seemed to be so much that could go wrong: Ravenpaw might not bring the message in time; Bluestar might refuse to talk to Tallstar; WindClan might ambush them at Fourtrees…

Giving himself a shake, Fireheart emerged into the clearing. He glanced around for any sign of Ravenpaw, but the camp lay silent in the moonlight. A pair of eyes gleamed from the entrance to the gorse tunnel, and as Fireheart padded closer he made out the pale shape of Ashpaw, on guard.

“Do you know who Ravenpaw is?” he asked, and when the apprentice nodded, he went on: “He hasn’t been here tonight, has he?”

Looking puzzled, Ashpaw shook his head.

“If he comes,” Fireheart instructed him, “let him in, and take him straight to Bluestar, okay?”

“Okay, Fireheart.” Ashpaw was clearly bursting with curiosity, but he didn’t ask any questions.

Fireheart nodded to him and went off to find Cinderpelt. Padding up to the medicine cat’s den, he saw her sitting outside, deep in conversation with Mousefur.

Both cats looked around at his approach.

“Fireheart?” Cinderpelt meowed, rising slowly to her paws. “What’s all this Mousefur is telling me? Why wasn’t I invited to the meeting?” Her blue eyes blazed with annoyance.

“It was just for the warriors,” Fireheart replied, though the explanation sounded feeble even to him.

“Oh, right,” mewed Cinderpelt dryly. “You thought I wouldn’t be interested in keeping secrets from Bluestar?”

“It’s not like that!” Fireheart protested. “I was coming to tell you now. Mousefur,” he added, giving the she-cat a hostile glance, “aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

Mousefur returned his glare, then spun around and vanished into the darkness.

“Well?” prompted Cinderpelt.

“It sounds as if Mousefur has told you already. I don’t like this situation any more than you, but what choice is there? Do you really think that StarClan want war in the forest—especially an unjust war?”

“StarClan have shown me nothing about any battles,” Cinderpelt admitted. “And I don’t want bloodshed, but is this the only way to stop it?”

“If you can think of a better idea, tell me.”

Cinderpelt shook her head. Moonlight shone on her gray fur, giving her a ghostly appearance, as if she were already halfway into the world of StarClan. “Whatever you do, Fireheart, be careful of Bluestar. Be gentle with her. She was a great leader—and she might be again.”

Fireheart wanted so much to believe the medicine cat. But each day Bluestar seemed to slide further into confusion. The wise mentor he had respected when he first came to ThunderClan seemed very far away.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “I don’t want to deceive her. But that’s why I’ve organized this meeting with Tallstar. I want her to realize we don’t have to fight. And she won’t listen to me.” Tensely, he added, “Do you think I’m wrong?”

“It’s not for me to say.” Cinderpelt met his gaze steadily. “This is your decision, Fireheart. No cat can make it for you.”