Chapter 25
"It's more than shallow enough to wade most of the way," Tinyclaw yowled. "Near the middle you'll have to swim, but its nothing to fear!" He was trying to make his voice as confident and urging as possible – but it crackled with the smoke, and the roar of the fire behind him nearly drowned it out. "Please – you all must go! Trust me!"
Whitestorm and Oakheart exchanged glances, then the older warriors met Tinyclaw's eyes. Whitestorm nodded slowly before picking Stonekit up in his jaws and began heading for the water. Oakheart took Mosskit while Brindleface had Mistykit mewling in her jaws. The three huddled around Tigerstar and began urging him slowly into the river.
Tinyclaw was more than grateful for that. Hopefully their willingness to go would spark reassurance in the Clan. A soft pelt brushed his shoulder, and Tinyclaw breathed in Sandstorm's familiar and comforting scent. He looked up to find her looking down at him with those bright green eyes.
"Are you sure it's safe?" she wondered. Her eyes flickered towards the river.
"Yes," Tinyclaw replied wholeheartedly. "I promise." The urgency and the fire and the terror disappeared as he looked into Sandstorm's eyes, just for a moment. He wanted to bury his face into her soft fur and sleep for a moon, wanted to forget all the horrible things that were happening all around him.
But he couldn't. He had a job to do.
Sandstorm blinked at him slowly, as if she could read his mind. Then, she rushed into the river, splashing easily through the shallows until she reached the deeper channel in the middle. Whitestorm and the others hadn't quite made it there yet – they stopped in their journey to watch Sandstorm's head bob above the water briefly… and then it disappeared.
Tinyclaw's heart clenched. Where was she? Oh StarClan, if Sandstorm drowned here, on top of everything else –!
But Sandstorm's head pushed through the water's surface near the other side of the river. She coughed and sputtered as she pulled herself onto the opposite shore, but when she looked back at the Clan her green eyes were blazing. "Keep your paws moving!" she urged across the water. "You'll be all right!"
Tinyclaw swallowed, his heart swelling with pride and admiration. It was all he could do not to plunge into the water and swim to her side – but the Clan needed him here. He couldn't leave anyone behind. Sandstorm's stunt seemed to have ignited bravery back into the ThunderClan cats – Tinyclaw watched as they all began to plunge into the water, grim determination on their faces as they stared at the opposite shore.
Dustpelt and Cloudpaw hesitated at the water's edge, Patchpelt's body between them. Tinyclaw frowned. There was no way they could haul him across the waters, not with a ThunderClan cats' lack of experience in water. Patchpelt's body would just drag them under, and Dustpelt seemed to understand that as he looked between the patchy elder and the water.
"Leave him," Tinyclaw rasped. Dustpelt looked at him, shocked. Cloudpaw's eyes went wide. "We'll have to come back for him. We need to make sure everyone makes it across – I don't want any more deaths today."
Dustpelt looked as if he might snap back, but Tinyclaw assured strongly: "We'll come back for him, Dustpelt. We'll bury him when the fire has passed."
That seemed to settle the tabby warrior. Dustpelt plunged into the waters with the rest of the Clan. Cloudpaw was breathing heavily, stunned and shocked but not outwardly showing it – her pelt was so stained with soot and smoke that it was difficult to tell that it was mostly white. Tinyclaw touched his nose to her flank, hoping she knew just how proud of her he was. Cloudpaw drifted into the water, paws churning strongly.
Tinyclaw looked over the remaining cats – most were in the water, all heading for the shore. Sandstorm stood belly deep in the water with Whitestorm, encouraging the others and helping those who were struggling. The kits were across, huddled up with Oakheart and the queens. Tinyclaw felt relief at that, but his eye caught on Smallear.
The elder hadn't yet touched the water yet, balking at the current. Sandstorm was calling to him, being as reassuring as possible – but over the roar of the fire Tinyclaw wondered if Smallear could hear her. It was coming closer and closer. No cat could afford to hesitate, and Tinyclaw was not going to lose anyone else.
He grabbed Smallear firmly by the scruff and pulled the old tom into the water with him, ignoring Smallear's protests. The elder's paws flailed at Tinyclaw's back as he fought the current and the small tom dragging him. Tinyclaw struggled to keep hold of Smallear thanks to the thrashing, and the water quickly pushed Tinyclaw off of his paws and sent them both roaring downstream.
Tinyclaw felt panic flare in his body as Smallear suddenly became a limp deadweight in his jaws. The shore suddenly disappeared, replaced by a steep wall of mud, and the icy water felt like claws in Tinyclaw's body. Smallear was still breathing, and he would make it so long as Tinyclaw could keep his head above water.
That was harder than it seemed – how did Graystripe manage it so easily? Smallear was heavier than Tinyclaw by a margin, a full grown cat weighing down one half his size. Tinyclaw's entire body strained to keep them both above water. His neck shook, his paws ached, and it felt like everything was about to give way under the strain.
And then, suddenly, a mottled head lifted the weight from him. Tinyclaw blinked water out of his eyes as he regained control of himself in the water – it was Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy! She had Smallear in her jaws, her paws churning expertly. Leopardfur easily dragged Smallear to the bank and then Tinyclaw felt her teeth in his scruff as she pulled him out of the water.
Tinyclaw gasped and wheezed, coughing water from his lungs. Smallear was trembling, soaked to the bone, but he seemed all right. Leopardfur regarded them both, then narrowed her eyes at the rest of the Clan on her shore. RiverClan cats were mingling with them, curious and worried and some no doubt suspicious. Graystripe was there. "Is that all of you?" she demanded.
"All that could make it," Tinyclaw coughed back.
Leopardfur looked across the water, spotting Patchpelt's body. "He's dead?" she guessed.
Tinyclaw nodded weakly.
Leopardfur slipped back into the water without a word. Her paws churned through the water with ease, making it through the deep channel in the middle without pause. She emerged on the other side, grabbed Patchpelt, and then slipped back into the water just as easily. Thunder clapped overhead, but Leopardfur swam on and reached the RiverClan shore, dragging a sodden Patchpelt with her.
"Tinyclaw!" Graystripe's voice rose above the storm. Tinyclaw's ears pricked, and he watched his old friend pad over to his side. Graystripe's fur against his flanks felt warm and soothing. "Are you all right?"
Tinyclaw could only nod, dazed and too waterlogged to think. Leopardfur pulled Patchpelt's body more securely onto the shore and decided, "We'll bury him back at camp."
"In… RiverClan?" Tinyclaw managed.
Leopardfur looked at him flatly. "Unless you want to try burying him back there," she stated. She didn't wait for a reply – she turned and began heading up the slope, away from water and fire. When Tinyclaw rose to his paws, the rest of ThunderClan took the cue – following Leopardfur and the other RiverClan cats further inland. Heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky. Would it be enough to douse the fire?
Tinyclaw watched Graystripe pick Patchpelt's body up easily, and was reminded of just how weak he felt. Paws slipping over the pebbles, Tinyclaw followed his beleaguered and sodden Clan into the reeds.
The RiverClan camp had been ringed with ice the last time Tinyclaw had seen it – now it was nearly unrecognizable. The streams that secured the little islands only glistened wetly in the rain, the heat having soaked up all the water that had been there before. The reeds that weren't already flattened by the rain were dry and greedy for the moisture. Wispy willow trees hung over the camp, their silvery leaves dripped water to the sandy earth below.
Leopardfur led the blackened and tired group of cats into the camp, through a narrow passage between bunches of dried-out rushes. The smell of smoke here was only lingering, nowhere near as strong as it was in the forest on the other side of the river. It was like breathing fresh air for the first time.
Crookedstar sat on his haunches in the middle of the island, which was a great clearing surrounded by rushes and reeds and sheltered from most of the rain by willows. The fur on his big shoulders was bristling as he regarded the ThunderClan intruders suspiciously. His eyes caught on Graystripe for but a moment before he looked to his deputy.
"Is RiverClan safe?" he asked immediately.
"The fire won't cross the river," Leopardfur reported. "The wind's changed, too."
Tinyclaw blinked and sniffed the air. Had he been too exhausted to notice? The storm had indeed changed the wind's direction, pushing the fire away as it rippled through his sodden fur. The freshness helped clear his mind… where was Tigerstar? He ought to be formally greeting Crookedstar. The big tabby tom was huddled with Whitestorm amongst the rest of the Clan, his tail so twined with the white warrior's it looked as if they were stuck.
No, Tinyclaw thought despairingly. RiverClan couldn't see ThunderClan so weak. He stepped forward, placing himself at the head of the Clan and beside Leopardfur. "We're very thankful to Leopardfur and her patrol for showing such courage and kindness in our time of need," he reported, dipping his head to Crookedstar. Lightning rippled overhead.
Crookedstar regarded him, his expression difficult to read with his malformed face. "Leopardfur was right to help – all the Clans fear fire."
"Our camp was burned and our territory is smoldering still," Tinyclaw went on. "We've nowhere to go for now." He blinked away water that streamed into his fire-dried eyes. He had no choice but to throw himself at Crookedstar's mercy here – what else could ThunderClan do?
Crookedstar frowned, regarding the ThunderClan cats with narrowed eyes. Tinyclaw's limbs itched with tiredness and growing frustration. Was this fatigued and smoke-stained group of cats really so threatening? Would I take this long to make a decision like this? We need help!
Finally, Crookedstar decided, "You may stay until it is safe to return to your territory."
Tinyclaw exhaled with relief. "Thank you," he breathed.
"Would you like us to bury your elder?" Leopardfur wondered.
"That's a very generous offer," Tinyclaw meowed, "but Patchpelt ought to be buried by his own Clan." Patchpelt might not be laid to rest in his own territory, but his Clanmates would send him on his journey to StarClan, with Brackenfur to say words over his spirit.
"Very well; his body will be moved outside of camp for your elders to sit vigil," Leopardfur decided. Tinyclaw's decision didn't seem to matter to her either way. "I'll ask Mudfur to help your medicine cat," she went on, her eyes scanning the blackened cats huddling in the rain. "Was Tigerstar injured?"
"He breathed in quite a lot of smoke," Tinyclaw answered evenly, meeting Leopardfur's eye. She was being generous here, but Tinyclaw knew just how Leoaprdfur was; always looking for a weakness. "He was among the last to leave the camp. Please, excuse me – my Clan needs me."
Tinyclaw got to his paws and turned to Cloudpaw and Smallear. "Are you fit to bury Patchpelt?"
"I am," Cloudpaw replied, "but Smallear is -"
"I'm fit enough to bury my denmate," Smallear rasped, voice thick with smoke. Cloudpaw sagged just a little – Tinyclaw was warmed by her concern for the elders.
"I'll ask Cinderpelt to help," Tinyclaw decided.
He turned to face the Clan, finding a small brown tom following Brackenfur throughout the throng of ThunderClan cats. Mudfur, Tinyclaw guessed – the tom dropped a bundle of herbs beside Willowpelt and her kits. The kittens were mewling and wailing, refusing to drink even when Willowpelt pressed them to her belly as hard as she could.
"Are they all right?" Tinyclaw wondered, padding over to them.
Brackenfur looked up from his herbs. "They'll be fine," he reported. "The kits' throats are all sore from the smoke. Mudfur is giving them honey to ease the pain."
"Do you think they can manage it?" Mudfur wondered. Caught on his claws was a large wad of moss, dripping with a yellowish, sticky liquid. Willowpelt nodded gratefully, encouraging her kits to lap at the honey and purring when they couldn't seem to get enough. Tinyclaw hoped there was enough for all the kits.
Brackenfur and Mudfur seemed to have everything under control. He padded away from the group, settling down to wash his singed flanks. His fur tasted awful, and the blackness of it made it impossible to tell where the soot and ash lay until his tongue found it first. His one white paw was blackened, too, and he cleaned it fastidiously as he looked over the Clan.
They were all settling in for the night, exhaustion finally taking over. Graystripe moved between them, mewing encouragingly to his former Clanmates whether they cared or not. Where was Silverstream? Probably safe in the nursery, with the kits. Tinyclaw spotted Sandstorm's pale flanks rising and falling next to Longtail, white Tigerstar and Whitestorm were huddled together in a tight white-and-tabby knot. Brackenfur laid down beside Ashpaw and Cloudpaw, who were already down for a while. Cinderpelt and Dustpelt were huddled close with Fernpaw nearby. The whole Clan was accounted for.
Tinyclaw frowned. All but Yellowfang and Halftail. When he closed his eyes to sleep, Yellowfang's terrified face flashed before his eyes, ringed with terrible flames. The image was unbearable… and it haunted him even as he drifted off into dreams.