A Dangerous Path (2 page)

Inside the kennel-that-moves, everything
was dark. The pack leader could hear the scrabbling of claws and feel the sleek pelt of the dog next to him, but he could see nothing. Dog scent filled his nostrils, and beyond that the smell of the burned forest.

The pack leader sat uncomfortably on the vibrating floor until the kennel-that-moves bounced to a halt. Outside, he could hear Man voices. He understood some of the words. “Fire…keep watch…guard dogs.”

The pack leader picked up the Men's fear-scent, along with the bittersweet smell of cut wood. He remembered coming here the night before, and the night before that, more than four paws' worth of nights. He had prowled the compound with the rest of the pack, sifting through the scents for intruders, ready to drive them away.

The dog snarled softly, his lips drawn back from sharp teeth. The pack was strong. They could run, and kill. They craved warm blood, and the terror-scent of prey before it died. But instead they were penned up, they ate the food the Man threw to them, and they obeyed the Man's orders.

The dog rose to his powerful paws, rattling the doors as he
butted them with his massive black-and-tan head. He lifted his voice in a bark that sounded all the louder in the confined space. “Out! Pack out! Out now!”

The rest of the pack added their voices. “Pack out! Pack run!”

As if in answer, the doors of the kennel-that-moves were flung open. In the twilight the pack leader could see the Man standing there, barking an order.

The leader jumped down first, close to a pile of logs stacked in the middle of the compound. His paws threw up little puffs of ash and soot. The rest of the pack followed in a stream of black-and-brown bodies. “Pack follow! Pack follow!” they barked. The leader padded restlessly along the fence that separated them from the forest. Beyond the fence, burned-out tree trunks leaned against each other or lay on the ground. Farther away a barrier of undamaged trees rustled in the breeze.

Scents flowed enticingly from the leaf-thick shadows. The dog's muscles tensed. Out there, in the prey-filled forest, the pack could run free. There would be no Man to chain or command them. They would feed as often as they wanted, because they would be the strongest and most savage of all.

“Free!” the lead dog barked. “Pack free! Free soon!”

He walked up to the fence and pressed his nose against the mesh links, drawing the smells of the forest deep into his lungs. Many of the scents he had never smelled before, but there was one he knew well, stronger than the rest, the scent of his enemy and his prey.

Cats!

 

Night had fallen; the leafless branches of the blackened trees were silhouetted against a full moon. In the darkness the dogs ranged to and fro, deep shadows in the night. Paws padded softly among soot and sawdust. Muscles rippled under shining coats. Their eyes gleamed. Their jaws were parted, revealing sharp teeth, and their tongues lolled.

The pack leader sniffed along the bottom of the fence, searching for a special place on the opposite side of the compound from where the Man stayed at night. Three nights ago the dog had discovered a narrow hole leading under the fence. He knew at once that this would be the route to freedom for the pack.

“Hole. Where hole?” he growled.

Then he spotted the place where the earth floor of the compound fell away into a hollow. One massive paw scraped at the ground. The dog raised his head to bark to his followers. “Here. Hole, hole. Here.”

He could feel their eagerness in his own mind, sharp as thorns, hot as carrion. They came bounding up to the lead dog, answering his bark. “Hole. Hole.”

“Bigger, hole bigger,” the pack leader promised. “Run soon.”

He began scraping at the ground again with all the strength in his lean, powerful body. Earth scattered as the hole under the chain-link fence grew wider and deeper. The remaining dogs milled around, snuffling at the night air that carried scents from the forest. They drooled at the thought of sinking their teeth into the warm bodies of living prey.

The pack leader stopped, ears pricked for the sound of the Man coming to check on them. But there was no sign of him, and his scent drifted from far away.

The lead dog flattened himself on the ground and squirmed down into the hole. The bottom of the fence scraped along his pelt. The dog thrust hard with his hind paws, propelling himself forward until he could scramble up and stand in the forest outside.

“Free now,” he barked. “Come! Come!”

The hole grew deeper still as each dog forced his way through, to stand beside his leader among the burned-out trees. They padded back and forth, pushing their muzzles into the holes at the roots of trees, gazing into the darkness with eyes that glowed with a cold fire.

As the last dog dragged itself under the fence, the pack leader raised his head and let out a triumphant bark. “Run. Pack free. Run now!”

Turning toward the trees, he bounded away, powerful muscles working in a smooth rhythm. The pack streamed behind, their dark shapes flashing through the forest night.

Pack, pack,
they thought.
Pack run
.

The whole of the forest was theirs, and in their minds, there was a single instinct.
“Kill! Kill!”

Fireheart's fur bristled with disbelief
and fury as he gazed up at the new leader of ShadowClan standing on the Great Rock. He watched as the cat swung his massive head from side to side. Muscles rippled under his gleaming pelt and his amber eyes seemed to glow with triumph.

“Tigerclaw!” Fireheart spat. His old enemy—the cat who had tried to kill him more than once—was now one of the most powerful cats in the forest.

The full moon rode high above Fourtrees, shedding its cold light over the cats of the four Clans, assembled there for the Gathering. They had all been shocked to learn of the death of Nightstar, the ShadowClan leader. But no cat in the forest had expected that ShadowClan's new leader would be Tigerclaw, the former ThunderClan deputy.

Beside Fireheart, Darkstripe was rigid with excitement, his eyes glittering. Fireheart wondered what thoughts were going through the mind of his black-pelted Clan mate. When Tigerclaw had been banished from ThunderClan, he had invited his old friend to go with him, but Darkstripe had refused. Was he regretting that decision now?

Fireheart caught sight of Sandstorm weaving her way toward him. “What's going on?” the pale ginger she-cat hissed as she came into earshot. “Tigerclaw can't lead ShadowClan. He's a traitor!”

For several heartbeats, Fireheart hesitated. Shortly after he had joined ThunderClan, Fireheart had discovered that Tigerclaw had murdered Redtail, the deputy. Once Tigerclaw became deputy himself, he had led rogue cats to attack the ThunderClan camp, trying to murder their leader, Bluestar, so that he could take her place. As punishment, he had been banished from their Clan and the forest. It was hardly a noble history for a leader of any Clan.

“But ShadowClan don't know about all that,” Fireheart reminded Sandstorm now, keeping his voice low. “None of the other Clans know.”

“Then you should tell them!”

Fireheart glanced up at Tallstar and Crookedstar, the leaders of WindClan and RiverClan, respectively, who stood beside Tigerstar on the Great Rock. Would they listen if he told them what he knew? ShadowClan had suffered so much from Brokentail's bloodthirsty leadership, followed by a devastating sickness, that they probably wouldn't care
what
their new leader had done, as long as he could forge them into a strong Clan again.

Besides, Fireheart couldn't help feeling a guilty relief that Tigerclaw had satisfied his hunger for power in a different Clan. Maybe now ThunderClan could stop waiting for him to attack, and Fireheart could walk the forest without
constantly glancing over his shoulder.

Yet, as he struggled with his conflicting emotions, he knew that he would never forgive himself if he let Tigerclaw come to power without even making a protest.

“Fireheart!” He turned to see Cloudpaw, his long-furred white apprentice, padding quickly toward him with the wiry brown warrior Mousefur just behind. “Fireheart, are you just going to stand there and let that piece of fox dung take over?”

“Quiet, Cloudpaw,” Fireheart ordered. “I know. I'll—”

He broke off as Tigerclaw paced to the front of the Great Rock.

“I am pleased to be here with you at the Gathering this night.” The huge tabby spoke with quiet authority. “I stand here before you as the new leader of ShadowClan. Nightstar died of the sickness that took so many of my Clan, and StarClan have named me as his successor.”

Tallstar, the black-and-white leader of WindClan, turned to him. “Welcome, Tigerstar,” he meowed, nodding respectfully. “May StarClan walk with you.”

Crookedstar meowed agreement as the new ShadowClan leader dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“I thank you for your greetings,” Tigerstar replied. “It's an honor to stand here with you, although I wish the circumstances could have been different.”

“Wait a moment,” Tallstar interrupted him. “There should be four of us here.” He peered down at the crowd of cats below. “Where's the leader of ThunderClan?”

“Go on.” Fireheart felt a cat nudge him, and glanced around
to see that Whitestorm had joined the other ThunderClan warriors. “You're taking Bluestar's place, remember?”

Fireheart nodded to him, suddenly unable to speak. He bunched his muscles and got ready to spring. A heartbeat later he was scrambling to the top of the Great Rock to stand beside the three leaders. For a moment the unfamiliar viewpoint took his breath away. He seemed to be far above the hollow, watching the changing patterns of light and dark on the cats below as the moon shone through the branches of the four massive oak trees. Fireheart shivered as he caught the pale gleam reflected from countless pairs of eyes.

“Fireheart?” He looked up as Tallstar spoke. “Why are you here? Has something happened to Bluestar?”

Fireheart dipped his head respectfully. “Our leader breathed smoke in the fire, and she's not yet well enough to travel. But she'll recover,” he added hastily. “It's nothing serious.”

Tallstar nodded, and Crookedstar broke in testily, “Are we ever going to start? We're wasting moonlight.”

Without waiting for a reply, the pale tabby RiverClan leader gave the yowl that signaled the beginning of the meeting. When the murmuring of the cats below had died away, he meowed, “Cats of all Clans, welcome to the Gathering. Tonight we are joined by a new leader, Tigerstar.” He beckoned to the massive warrior with a flick of his tail. “Tigerstar, are you ready to speak now?”

Thanking him with a courteous nod, Tigerstar stepped forward to address the assembled cats. “I stand here before you by the will of StarClan. Nightstar was a noble warrior, but he
was old, and he did not have the strength to fight the sickness when it came. His deputy, Cinderfur, died too.”

Fireheart felt his fur prickling with unease as he listened. Clan leaders received nine lives when they went to share tongues with StarClan at Mothermouth, and Nightstar had become leader only a few seasons ago. What had happened to his nine lives? Had ShadowClan's sickness been so violent that it had taken all of them?

Looking down, Fireheart caught sight of Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, sitting with his head bowed. Fireheart could not see his face, but his hunched posture suggested that he was lost in misery. It must be hard for him, Fireheart thought, to know that all his skill had not been enough to save his leader.

“StarClan brought me to ShadowClan when its need was greatest,” Tigerstar continued from on top of the Great Rock. “Not enough cats survived the sickness to hunt for the nursing queens and the elders, or to defend their clan, and no warrior was ready to take on the leadership. Then StarClan sent an omen to Runningnose that another great leader would arise. I swear by all our warrior ancestors that I will become that leader.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Fireheart noticed that Runningnose was shifting uncomfortably. For some reason he looked unhappy at the mention of the omen.

Fireheart suddenly realized that his own task had become much harder. If there had been an omen, then StarClan themselves must have chosen Tigerstar as the new leader of
ShadowClan. Surely it was not the place of Fireheart or any other cat to question their decisions. What could he say now that would not seem to challenge the will of their warrior ancestors?

“Thanks to StarClan,” Tigerstar went on, “I had other cats to bring with me who have proven themselves willing to hunt and fight for their new Clan.”

Fireheart knew exactly which cats Tigerstar meant—the band of rogues who had attacked the ThunderClan camp! He could see one of them just below the Great Rock, a huge ginger tom, sitting with his tail curled around his paws. The last time Fireheart had seen him, he had been grappling with Brindleface, trying to break into the ThunderClan nursery. Ironically, some of these rogues had grown up in ShadowClan and had supported the tyrannical leader, Brokentail. They had been driven out with their leader when ThunderClan had come to the aid of the oppressed Clan.

Tallstar stepped forward, a doubtful look in his eyes. “Brokentail's allies were cruel and bloodthirsty, just as he was. Is it really wise to let them back into the Clan?”

Fireheart could understand Tallstar's misgivings, since these very cats had driven WindClan from their territory and had almost destroyed them. He wondered how many ShadowClan warriors shared his concern. After all, Brokentail's own Clan had suffered almost as much as WindClan had from their murderous leader's rule; he was surprised they would take the outlaws back.

“Brokentail's warriors obeyed him,” Tigerstar replied
calmly. “Which of you wouldn't do the same for your own leader? The warrior code says that a leader's word is law.” He swiped his tongue around his muzzle before continuing. “These cats were loyal to Brokentail. They will be loyal to me now. Blackfoot, who was Brokentail's deputy, is my deputy now.”

Tallstar still looked suspicious, but Tigerstar met his gaze steadily. “Tallstar, you are right to hate Brokentail. He did great harm to your Clan. But let me remind you that it was not my decision to take him into ThunderClan and care for him. I spoke against that from the first, but when Bluestar insisted on giving him sanctuary, loyalty to my leader meant that I had to support her.”

The WindClan leader hesitated and then bowed his head. “That's true,” he meowed.

“Then all I ask is that you trust me, and give my warriors a chance to show that they can honor the warrior code, and prove their loyalty to ShadowClan once more. With the help of StarClan, my first task is to make ShadowClan well and strong again,” Tigerstar vowed.

Perhaps, Fireheart thought hopefully, now that Tigerstar had achieved his ambition, he really would become a great leader. He had said that the outlaws deserved another chance; perhaps the same was true of Tigerstar himself. Yet every hair in Fireheart's pelt was prickling. He still wanted to make it clear to Tigerstar that ThunderClan was not his for the taking.

He was so deep in thought that he hardly realized that Tigerstar had finished addressing the assembled Clans.

“Fireheart?” Tallstar meowed. “Do you want to speak now?”

Fireheart swallowed nervously and padded forward, the rock cool and smooth beneath his paws. Below, he could see Sandstorm and the other ThunderClan cats looking up at him expectantly; the pale ginger she-cat was watching him with a glow of admiration in her eyes.

Feeling encouraged, Fireheart began to speak. He wasn't going to pretend that the ThunderClan camp had not been devastated by the recent fire, but he did not want to give the impression that the Clan was weak. Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy, was listening intently. As Fireheart glanced at her she narrowed her eyes as if she were measuring his words carefully. RiverClan had helped ThunderClan escape from the fire, and no cat knew better than Leopardfur how vulnerable they were.

“A few dawns ago,” Fireheart reported, “fire started in the Treecut place and swept through our camp. Halftail and Patchpelt died, and the Clan honors them. And we especially honor Yellowfang. She went back into the burning camp to rescue Halftail.” He bowed his head, memories of the old medicine cat threatening to overwhelm him. “I found her in her den, and I was with her when she died.”

Wails of dismay broke out among the listening cats. Not only ThunderClan had reason to grieve for Yellowfang's death. Fireheart noticed Runningnose sitting erect and gazing upward, his eyes clouded with sorrow. He had been Yellowfang's apprentice when she was ShadowClan's medicine cat, before Brokentail drove her out.

“Our new medicine cat will be Cinderpelt,” Fireheart went on. “Bluestar suffered from breathing in smoke, but she is recovering. None of our kits were harmed. We are rebuilding our camp.” He did not mention the shortage of prey in the burned stretch of forest, or the way that the camp was still open to attack in spite of their efforts to rebuild the walls. “We must thank RiverClan,” he added, with a respectful glance at Crookedstar. “They gave us shelter in their camp during the fire. Without their help, more of our cats might have died.”

As Crookedstar acknowledged his words with a nod, Fireheart couldn't resist glancing down at Leopardfur again. The RiverClan deputy hadn't shifted her amber gaze from him.

Pausing to take a deep breath, Fireheart turned to Tigerstar. “ThunderClan accepts that StarClan has approved your leadership,” he meowed. “As rogues, your followers stole from all four Clans while they roamed the forest, so it is good that they have their own Clan again. We trust that they will be bound by the warrior code and will keep to their own territory.” He thought he could see a gleam of surprise in Tigerstar's eyes, and continued firmly, “But we will not tolerate any invasions into ThunderClan territory. In spite of the fire, we are strong enough to drive out any cat who sets a paw over our borders. We have no fear of ShadowClan.”

One or two yowls of agreement rose from his own warriors below. Tigerstar gave a slight dip of his head, and spoke in a low rumble that carried no farther than the other cats on
top of the Great Rock. “Brave words, Fireheart. You have nothing to fear from ShadowClan.”

Fireheart wished that he could believe him. Bowing his head in acknowledgment, he stepped back again, his fur flattening in relief that his turn to speak was over, and listened while Tallstar and Crookedstar gave the news from their own Clans—word of new apprentices and warriors, and a warning of extra Twolegs by the river.