---Chapter Eleven---

Flamepaw raced through the undergrowth, following Brambleclaw by nothing but his scent trail since the tabby warrior was already way ahead of them. The ginger apprentice weaved through the trees like lightning; the others hard on his paws. On one side of him, he could see the lake just barely through the trees and ahead of him, he could hear the rushing of water. The forest started thinning out, and soon he broke through into an open clearing where a stream was flowing by.

The stream strangely looked familiar. A large mass of orange and red glowed on the opposite side where the moorland was. The smoke coming from it filled the air as the wind carried it across the boarder. It made Flamepaw's mind start racing. It reminded him of his dream of the rushing water and the fog-filled air…

The voices of many cats rang in his ears and he narrowed his eyes as and peered farther down stream. He could not see anything, however, because the smoke was too dense.

"What going on?" Flamepaw heard Brackenfur's voice come from behind him.

"There's a moorland fire!" Sorreltail gasped, stating the obvious.

As the other cats caught up, Flamepaw realized he could no longer find Brambleclaw's scent. The smell of smoke and ashes stung his scent glands instead and he almost felt like backing away so that he can breathe again. But he forced himself to take a step forward.

"Come on," He meowed to the others as if he was leader of the clan rather than just an apprentice. "This way." Flamepaw led the band of cats down the stream, following only the sound of the cat's voices. He heard Sootfur sneezing and choke close behind him.

"We should go back," The grey warrior mewed. "The smoke is too thick."

"NO," Flamepaw ordered, "Keep going." Moonpaw shared a glance with his mentor as if they were both reluctant to be lead to their doom by a mere apprentice, even if he was the son of their leader. Moonpaw heaved a sigh and followed the young ginger tom. Flamepaw could feel the apprentice's amber gaze burn into his pelt and he hoped the black smoke was enough to keep the other cats from noticing the shiver that ran through his spine.

For awhile he padded on, hardly able to see a mouse-length in front of him, but at last a dark figure in the shape of a cat appeared out of the smoke. Flamepaw was cautious at first but then he went up to the figure and pressed his nose into the tabby fur.

"Brambleclaw?" He meowed taking in the tabby's scent.

"Flamepaw, is that you?" Brambleclaw's voice sounded anxious. "Come, help me."

Flamepaw wasn't sure what he meant but when he sniffed the air again, not only did the smoke sting his scent glands but also the smell of WindClan. Flamepaw pricked up his ears as he realized what his mentor was trying to do. Although he could hardly see, he knew this is where the stepping stones to cross the stream must be.

"Where is WindClan?" Flamepaw asked at the same time Rollingpaw, who was blinded by the smoke, bumped into him from behind.

"Some of them already made it across." Brambleclaw meowed. "They went further into the forest to get away from the smoke. But there's still a few warriors left as well as some queens."

Flamepaw heard a silent hiss of protest come from Moonpaw, who he guessed was probably disagreeing with his father for bringing an enemy clan into ThunderClan territory, but Flamepaw ignored him and peered through the smoke towards the stream. He could see them now, just barely, a couple WindClan warriors were situated on stepping stones or in the water of the stream itself, helping their clanmates across. One warrior was able to persuade an elderly looking tom to leap the last stepping stone and get to the other side.

"Right," A dark-grey tom meowed. "That's the last of the elders."

"Crowfeather, help that queen!" Brambleclaw called back to the dark warrior.

Flamepaw could just make out the light brown tabby pelt of a WindClan queen. One tiny black kit was clamped in her jaws. A few warriors close behind her were carrying more of her kits; four in all. One of the kits carried by another warrior was identical to its mother, two of them were a dark gray, and the last one was half and half. The mother was holding on tightly to the darkest of the litter, an almost-black tom who was mewling loudly.

"Hand me the kit, Mosspelt." Crowfeather was saying, "It'll be easier for you to make it across that way."

The queen looked up at the dark grey warrior with a look of uncertainty in her eyes and when he reached over to grab the kit she jerked her head away. Flamepaw knew that in desperate times, queens liked to have their kits close to them. The queen's stubbornness, however, would only make the situation worse. Crowfeather lashed his tail impatiently.

"Do you want me to help you or would you rather drown with your kit and leave the other three behind without a mother?" He hissed.

Flamepaw winced at the WindClan warrior's words. He knew he was only trying to make the queen give in, but scaring her too much would not help either. The queen still looked reluctant to give up her kit, and Flamepaw felt his heart skip a beat as the brown tabby she-cat lowered her haunches and leapt to the next stepping stone with her kit still clamped in her mouth. With the weight of the kit together with the fear, anxiety, and excitement of the situation, the WindClan queen lost her footing on the slippery rock and nearly fell backward. She scrambled up on the rock, trying not to fall into the ice cold water, but it was too late. She had lost her grip on the kit and before any of the warriors had time to react, the tiny tom's black head had already disappeared behind the surface of the cool, rushing water.