Chapter 23

"THE CAMP IS ON FIRE!" Tinyclaw roared. He turned about to the other warriors in the smoky den. "WAKE UP!"

Cinderpelt's eyes opened in shock, blue discs of fear lit by orange light as the other warriors began stirring. There was no time to wait for everyone to wake up – Tinyclaw ordered, "Tell Tigerstar the camp is on fire! We must leave the camp at once – head for the river!"

Tinyclaw turned away before the words could really register into her. He streaked to the elder's den, smoke filling the camp, the scent of fire surrounding him. He thrust his head in only to shout: "The forest is on fire! We must leave!" before he rushed over to the apprentice's den.

"Wake up!" he roared. "The forest is on fire! Head for the river!" Cloudpaw's eyes opened blearily, bewildered in the haze. But she shook her head and nodded. Tinyclaw turned away and spotted Cinderpelt and Whitestorm guiding Tigerstar towards the camp's entrance. Cats streamed all around him, panic thick as the smoke in the air.

"This way!" Tinyclaw called, "Leave camp! Head for the river! Don't lose sight of your denmates! Head for the river!"

The forest roared around them with whirling flame and the two-tone shrieking of Twolegs in the distance. Tinyclaw only hoped that his voice was heard over all of it. Smoke was billowing thickly into the clearing, the orange light of flame dancing ever closer behind it. Tinyclaw was one of the last cats to stream out of the camp, following after Tigerstar and the queens.

Only when they were out of camp did Tigerstar break away from Whitestorm and Cinderpelt to begin running with the rest of his Clan. Whitestorm and Cinderpelt followed, tails bristling. Tinyclaw watched his Clanmates scurry through the woods, full of panic and fear – and yet Tinyclaw felt icily calm inside.

"Keep together!" he called as loudly as he could. "Don't lose sight of one another! Head for the river!"

A kit mewled, and Tinyclaw turned – Willowpelt was ushering her kits ahead, herding them away with the help of Oakheart and Brightpaw. Oakheart's own kits were wobbling stiff-legged through the smoky woods just ahead of Willowpelt's smaller kittens. Tinyclaw surged towards them and scooped up Willowpelt's tiny tortoiseshell and handed her off to the nearest cat – Sandstorm.

Sandstorm took the kit with a nod and kept close to Willowpelt. Oakheart and Willowpelt took the other two kits into their mouths and began heading after the others with an increased pace. Brightpaw herded Oakheart's kits before her, nudging them along as fast as she could. They made it up the ravine, and over.

Tinyclaw waited until every cat had gone up the ravine before he did – he followed after Longtail and Dustpelt and the elders, stones scattering beneath his paws in his haste. He turned around and gasped as orange tongues of flame began to devour the forest below, smoke hiding Silverpelt from sight.

He looked away and headed for the Clan. They were rushing to the river, but when Tinyclaw called out for a halt they listened, looking back at him with panic in their eyes. Tigerstar stared out from the sea of faces, Whitestorm by his side, his amber eyes burning with horror and fear.

"Is everyone here?" Tinyclaw demanded, swallowing. His throat felt dry. "Is anyone missing?"

The cats shuffled and shifted as they counted heads – suddenly Cloudpaw's voice piped up: "Where are Halftail and Patchpelt?" she squeaked in worry.

"They're not with us," Smallear reported. The small tom's eyes were wide, his limbs trembling.

"Mistykit!" Oakheart called. "Mistykit, where are you?"

"She was just in front of me!" Brightpaw wailed. "She made it up the ravine but she's gone, too! Oh, StarClan!"

Tinyclaw's mind reeled. Three are missing, he thought. Three! And the fire was roaring high behind him, inching forward like a snake about to strike. They had to be nearby. "I'll find them," he promised the clamoring Clan. Silence reigned and eyes turned to him. "Go on to the river – it's too dangerous to keep you here any longer. Whitestorm and Oakheart can make sure you make it to the river."

Oakheart's hackles rose. "My kit is in those woods Tinyclaw and you're a mouse-brain if you think I won't go looking for her!"

"The Clan needs you!" Whitestorm snapped, saving Tinyclaw the effort. The white warrior met his old friend's gaze. "Your other kits need you."

Oakheart opened his jaws but Sandstorm jumped down them: "I'm coming with you," she declared.

"No!" Tinyclaw insisted. "We're short on warriors as it is," he told her. "The Clan needs you here!" Sandstorm raised her hackles, eyes burning with determination – but she said nothing more.

"Then I will go," Brackenfur meowed. His voice shocked Tinyclaw's fur to bristling as the golden-brown tom hobbled out of the crowd. "I am no warrior, I'd be no use if we came across an enemy patrol."

"No way!" Tinyclaw snapped. He would not let Brackenfur risk himself like that, not with his limp! But then Yellowfang pushed her way through the crowd, her fur bristling and just a shade darker than the haze in the sky.

"I may be old, but I'm far steadier on my paws than you," Yellowfang decided. "The Clan will need your healing skills – I will go with Tinyclaw."

Brackenfur stared at Yellowfang incredulously. "But Yellowfang, you -"

"We don't have time for this!" Tinyclaw snapped. Brackenfur closed his jaws, but did not stop staring after his mentor as she padded over to join Tinyclaw. "Yellowfang will come with me – we'll meet you by the river."

He turned away before Brackenfur could argue and began picking his way down the ravine in the smoke and heat, Yellowfang right behind him.

Tinyclaw was terrified to his core but he forced himself to keep running until he reached the bottom. Yellowfang was gasping behind him. The heat was like a blow, striking hard and fast and hotter than anything Tinyclaw had ever felt. The smoke hung in the air, like a Twoleg mesh screen before his eyes, making every breath painful in his young lungs. Bright flames were licking greedily at the camp, but they hadn't reached the camp yet – Tinyclaw pushed his way through the entrance and headed for the elder's den first.

The fallen log was close to the entrance, but also to the flames. The heat made Tinyclaw squint, the haze almost too hard to see through. His lungs burned as he pushed his head through the burning lichen and into the fallen log.

Halftail and Patchpelt lay in heaps in the den, Halftail's jaws buried in Patchpelt's scruff as if he had tried to pull him along before he'd collapsed. Tinyclaw stared in shock – neither were moving or breathing. Yellowfang pushed her way in.

"Don't just stand there," she rasped. "Help me!"

Tinyclaw nodded and grasped Patchpelt's scruff in his jaws. Yellowfang unlatched Halftail, and together they dragged the old toms out of the elder's den. Tinyclaw's lungs burned hot and his neck began to ache, too, from the deadweight of Patchpelt.

Patchpelt twitched and spasmed as Tinyclaw pulled him out of the camp and began hauling him up the ravine, his sides heaving and convulsing. By the time Tinyclaw was at the top every piece of him ached from the old cat's thrashing. He laid Patchpelt down on a flat stone, letting him settle back into unconsciousness.

Tinyclaw turned to look for Yellowfang. The old she-cat was just trying to haul Halftail out of the camp, struggling against the gorse that encircled the clearing. Her flanks heaved as she fought against the thick smoke. Flames licked against the trees that protected the camp, eating away at their trunks. There was a groan from one of them, and Yellowfang looked up at Tinyclaw with wide orange eyes.

Bunching his hind legs, Tinyclaw was about to spring to her aid – but a mewling gave him pause. Mistykit! Through the billowing smoke, he spotted Mistykit huddling in a bush, the flames a tail-length away from her paws. She let out another pitiful wail of fear, pale fur bristling.

Without thinking Tinyclaw surged for Mistykit. He reached the bush just as flames began licking at its dried branches, thrusting his head forward to grasp Mistykit by the scruff. The kit went limp immediately, and Tinyclaw dragged her out just as the bush went up in flames. He bounded away as quick as he could, Mistykit hanging from his jaws.

He set her down by Patchpelt and turned to help Yellowfang – but a loud crack split the air and the tree, wreathed in flames, careened down, landing in a spray of cinders and branches just before the old gray she-cat. The whole world shook from the force, and Tinyclaw nearly lost his breath. When it was done he looked, straining to see Yellowfang – but the tree's burning branches had blocked the entrance of the camp, a wall of flame impossible to penetrate.

Yellowfang was trapped.