"How fast can we get back to camp?" Whitestorm asked.
Whitestorm and Tigerclaw lifted Fireheart onto Graystripe's back. The orange warrior was like a dead weight. Bluestar looked indecisive; she was probably having a hard time figuring out the answer to Whitestorm's question.
"If we don't stop at all, and maintain a fast pace," Bluestar finally responded. "We should be able to make it back to camp by sunset."
Graystripe could feel Fireheart breathing faintly against his side. He was worried out of his mind, but also confused about what had happened. He could feel his friend's fur, a lot hotter than it originally was. That usually been the wounds were getting infected.
Bluestar had set a swift pace, making sure they would make it back to camp by sunset. Graystripe noticed that Cinderpaw looked distraught, while Brackenpaw was seemingly trying to make her feel better. Willowpelt and Longtail were on either side of Graystripe, steadying Fireheart's unconscious form.
"Bluestar," Willowpelt called, her voice sounding anxious. "Fireheart is still losing blood and his breathing doesn't sound good. Any cat can tell that."
Graystripe listened closer to Fireheart's breathing. It sounded like harsh, raspy gasping. He felt something wet and sticky against his back and sides. Then he realized it was Fireheart's blood he was feeling. He picked up the pace just as the ThunderClan leader did.
The sun seemed to be setting faster than it normally did. Time was clearly not on their side at the moment. Graystripe's heart was pounding as Willowpelt nudged Fireheart into a steadier position, while Longtail helped keep him on the gray warrior's back since they were on the move.
In the distance, they could see the trees of ThunderClan territory rising up to block the blazing sun. Graystripe's heart lifted with hope. Of course, that's when he felt the orange tom slipping away from the living.
"Hang in there," Graystripe whispered. "Just a little longer, Fireheart. We're almost there."
They raced into camp as soon as they made it to the entrance. Graystripe broke off from the group and ran into Yellowfang's den. The old medicine cat was sorting herbs, but when she heard him enter, she spun around. Upon seeing Fireheart, Yellowfang dragged him off the gray tom's back and into a nest close to her herb store.
When Yellowfang returned a few seconds later, she crouched over Fireheart, shooing Graystripe out of her den with her thick, matted tail. He backed out of the den, heart racing.
Please be okay. Please, StarClan, if you have anything against me, don't take it out on Fireheart. Graystripe prayed to his warrior ancestors. Or if you have anything against Fireheart. . . . Please just let him live. Let him be okay.I will do anything. Kill me instead if you have to, but spare my best friend.
Graystripe caught a whiff of Sandstorm's scent. He turned to see her running up to him, her pale green eyes were clear with her distress. "What happened?" she demanded. "What's all this I hear about Fireheart being injured?"
He sighed, but explained what had happened. From when they met Scourge to when they got back to camp. Sandstorm remained silent, only letting out small gasps of horror. By the end, he looked back at her to see her expression - a look of sheer terror. He understood. Clanborn cats weren't treated like that by their mothers.
"Will he be alright?" she asked quietly, casting a glance at the medicine cat den.
"I don't know," admitted Graystripe, shaking his head. "I really don't know."
StarClan, I will plead with you for as long as it takes... Please let my best friend survive.