A/N: Pay your respects to the Erin Hunter(s) by remembering they own this series and supporting the official release!

Ch. 7: Putting the Best Leg Forward

With their traveling herbs eaten and Yellowfang having wished them good-luck, Fireshade and Graystripe went to make their way out of camp. They nearly crashed into Whitestorm, who was leading Sandpaw and Runningwind into the forest for the dawn patrol.

"Sorry!" Fireshade panted. He stopped, and Graystripe skidded to a halt beside him.

Whitestorm dipped his head. "I hear you two are going on a mission," he meowed.

"Yes."

"Then may you have StarClan's protection," meowed Whitestorm gravely.

"What for?" Sandpaw sneered. "You off to catch voles?"

Runningwind, a lean tabby, turned and whispered something into Sandpaw's ear. Her expression changed and the contempt in her green eyes switched to guard curiosity.

The patrol stepped aside to let Fireshade and Graystripe pass. The pair raced on and scrambled up the side of the ravine.

The duo shared few words as they followed the route through the forest to Fourtrees, saving their breath for the long journey ahead. They paused at the top of the steep slope on the far side of the oak-shaded clearing.

The gray warrior's sides were heaving when they reached the top but the ginger tom had barely spent any breath. Fireshade's eyes narrowed, concerned that his friend had been so troubled by the climb.

"Are you out of shape?" Fireshade pondered aloud. Graystripe hadn't seemed to be eating more than normal. Or was he starting to get a cough?

"Screw…You!" Graystripe huffed playfully, fluffing out his thick fur against the blast of cold air that swept across the uplands. "It is always windy up here?"

"I suppose there aren't any trees to block it," Fireheart pointed out, screwing up his eyes and regaining his focus. This was WindClan's territory. As Fireshade sniffed the air, he detected a scent that all of his senses told him should not be here. "Do you smell RiverClan warriors?" He snarled out the question.

Graystripe lifted his nose. "No. Do you think there might be some here?"

"Definitely. They likely wish to make the most of WindClan's absence, especially since they know WindClan will be back soon," Fireshade warned.

"Well I can't smell anything now."

The two friends padded watchfully along a frozen turf trail sheltered by heather.

A fresh scent stopped Fireshade in his tracks. "Do you smell it now?" He hissed to Graystripe.

"Yes," whispered Graystripe, flattening himself against the ground. "RiverClan!"

Fireshade dropped into a crouch, keeping his ears below the heather. Beside him, Graystripe lifted his dark gray head to peer over the bushes. "I can see them," he murmured. "They're hunting."

Fireshade stretched up cautiously to look.

Four RiverClan warriors were chasing a rabbit through a patch of gorse. Fireshade recognized Blackclaw from the Gathering. The smoky-black warrior pounced, his claws unsheathed, but sat up again with nothing to show for the chase. The rabbit must have made it to the safety of her warren.

The young ginger's muscles bunched but he held himself back. He wanted nothing more than to stop the intruders from taking what wasn't theirs. But a battle now would make the journey more cumbersome if one of them was injured; They'd only just set out.

Fireshade and Graystripe dropped down again and pressed their bellies against the cold turf.

"They're not good rabbit hunters," Graystripe hissed scornfully.

"They shouldn't be attempting it in the first place," Fireshade growled in a matching tone. RiverClan had wasted no time breaking the agreement that was set in place the night before. His nose twitched as he smelled the scent of a terrified rabbit coming nearer. With a pang of dread, Fireshade heard the pawsteps of the RiverClan warriors fast approaching after it. "They're coming this way! We'll have to hide!"

"Follow me," whispered Graystripe. "I smell badgers this way."

"Badgers?" Fireshade echoed with a disapproving look. He'd heard that Halftail was called Sparrowpelt before he got into a fight with a bad-tempered old brock.

"Don't worry. The sent is strong but stale," Graystripe reassured him. "There must be an old set near here."

The orange warrior sniffed. His scent glands picked up a strong, almost foxlike scent. "You're sure it's abandoned?"

"We'll know soon enough. Come on; we've got to get out of here," replied Graystripe. He led the way quickly through the low bushes. The rustle of heather told Fireshade that the RiverClan warriors were closing in.

"Here!" Graystripe shouldered aside a tuft of heather to reveal a sandy hole in the ground. "Get inside! The badger's scent will disguise ours We can wait till they're gone."

Fireshade slipped speedily into the dark hole, and Graystripe followed him. The stench of badger was overwhelming.

Pawsteps thudded on the ground overhead. Both cats held their breath as the steps halted and one of the RiverClan warriors yowled, "Badger set!" From the rasping mew, Fireshade knew it was Blackclaw.

A second voice answered: "Is it abandoned? The rabbit may be hiding inside."

Fireshade unsheathed his claws, getting excited at the thought of chasing off the thieves after all. However, they retracted as he felt Graystripe's bristling pelt press up against him; he remembered it wasn't just him at stake.

"Wait; the scent leads this way," meowed Blackclaw. There was scrabble of paws overhead as the RiverClan warriors charged away.

Graystripe slowly let out his breath. "D'you think they're gone?"

"Perhaps we should wait a bit longer, make sure none of them stayed behind," Fireshade suggested.

No more noises came from outside. Graystripe nudged Fireshade. "Come on," he meowed.

The orange warrior followed the gray tom vigilantly out into the daylight. There was no sign of the RiverClan patrol. The fresh breeze cleared Fireshade's scent glands of the badger stench. "We should look for the WindClan camp," he meowed to Graystripe. "It'll be the best place to pick up their scent."

"Okay," answered Graystripe. They moved slowly through the heather, keeping their mouths slightly open to pick up the scent of any more RiverClan warrior. They stopped at the floor of a large flat rock that sloped up steeply, past the tops of the gorse bushes.

"I'll climb up and have a look around," offered Graystripe.

"My pelt will blend better with the stone."

"Okay," Fireshade agreed. "But keep your head down."

He watched his friend creep up the rock. Graystripe crouched at the top and gazed around the plateau, then skidded down to Fireshade. "There's a hollow over there, I think," Graystripe puffed, signaling with his tail. "I can see a gap in the heather."

"Let's check it out," meowed Fireshade. "It could be the camp."

"That's what I thought." Graystripe nodded. "It's probably the only place up here that's sheltered from the wind."

As they neared the hollow, Fireshade raced past Graystripe and gazed over the edge. It looked as if a StarClan warrior had reached down from the sky, scooped a pawful of peat from the plateau, and replaced it with a thick tangle of gorse that grew almost to the level of the ground on either side.

Fireshade sniffed. He could smell many scents, all WindClan, old and young, male and female, in the background, the faint odor of fresh-kill that had long since become crowfood. This had to be the abandoned camp.

Fireshade bounded down the slope and plunged into the bushes. The gorse tugged at his fur and scratched his nose, making his eyes water. He could hear Graystripe behind him, cursing as thorns snagged his ears. They pushed through into a sheltered clearing. The sandy ground had been trodden hard by generations of paws. At one end of the clearing stood a rock, worn smooth by many windblown moons.

"This is their camp, all right," Fireshade murmured.

"I can't believe Brokenstar managed to drive WindClan out of such a well-protected place!" Graystripe meowed, rubbing his sore nose with one paw.

"It looks like they put up a good fight," Fireshade pointed out, realizing with a jolt how badly ravaged the camp was. Clumps of fur littered the ground, and dried blood stained the sand. Mossy nests had been dragged out of his dens and torn apart. And everywhere, stale ShadowClan scents mingled with the smell of terrified WindClan cats.

Fireshade rumbled deep within his chest. "Let's find the scent trail out of here," he growled. He began to sniff the air carefully and moved forward, following the strongest scent. Graystripe padded after him to a narrow gap in the gorse.

"WindClan cats must be even smaller than I remember!" Graystripe grumbled as he squeezed through after Fireshade.

The orange warrior gave his friend an amused glance. The scent trail was quite clear now-definitely WindClan, but mixed and pungent, as if made by many frightened cats. Fireshade looked down. Drops of dried blood dotted the ground. "We're heading the right way," he meowed darkly Two moons of rain and wind had failed to wash away the signs of suffering. Fireshade could clearly picture the defeated and injured Clan fleeing from their home. He cursed the warrior ancestors that the victimized Clan should have been able to count on. How could you let this happen?!

With renewed outrage, he bounded after his friend.

With a trail to follow, the duo moved passed Highstones, through the Twoleg farmland, and to a cluster of Thunderpaths. WindClan couldn't have been too far now. But as the moon rose into the sky, Fireshade reasoned that WindClan would probably be more welcoming if they approached in daylight. They would rest for the night.

What they found for shelter was a hole larger than a badger set, smooth and lined with stone. Fireshade sniffed it, then put his front paws on its rim and peered cautiously inside. A stone tunnel sloped away, down into the ground. "I can feel air flowing through it," he meowed, his voice echoing away into the shadows. "It must come up somewhere over there." He ducked back out and pointed his nose toward the tangle of Thunderpaths.

"Is it empty?" Graystripe asked.

"Smells like it."

"Come on then." Graystripe led the way into the tunnel After a few fox lengths, the slope leveled out.

Fireshade halted and sniffed the damp air. He could smell nothing but the fumes of Thunderpath. A roaring noise rumbled overhead. Fireshade's paws trembled as the stone floor vibrated. Great, the Thunderpath was above them! He fluffed out his coat against the relentless draft and felt Graystripe's fur brush against him-his friend was circling, preparing to settle down to sleep. Fireheart crouched down and huddled beside his friend.

"You know, I'm really proud of you…" The gray warrior suddenly said with gentle amber eyes on his companion.

Startled, Fireshade sputtered a bit, "Uh…Uhm…thanks?" Where did that come from?

Graystripe went on, "From our first scuffle by your old twoleg nest, I knew you were one of us." His voice was thick with a purr. "And now, to be out here with you like this, knowing I can count on you. It just makes me…really happy to know that I was right. And that you're my best friend." He rested his muzzle on top of Fireshade's head. The orange warrior could hear his comrade's heartbeat as he instinctively pressed himself into Graystripe.

Flushed, Fireshade responded the best way he knew how. "To think…" he swallowed gathering his thoughts. "Have I ever thanked you for attacking me?"

"I wouldn't expect you to," Graystripe laughed.

"But if you hadn't," the ginger tom continued, "I would have never found a path I could have been proud of."

"Well, when you put it that way, you do owe me a lot!" He made exaggerated lewd eyes at the other tom. "Maybe when we get back, you can have my kits!" He joked.

"Shut up!" Fireshade hissed playfully with embarrassment. "I'm sorry I said anything!"

"I'm not." Graystripe's tail went over his friend's back.

"I know…" The orange warrior returned the gesture.

The pair soon closed their eyes and let the surrounding blackness and one other's warmth lull them to sleep.

A/N: Read, Fav, Follow, Review! I love kitties flirting and so do you!