"Not as long as Graystripe is alive." Cinderpelt argues.
Warmth creeps through him at Cinderpelt's faith in him and is about to respond when Thornpaw complains, his words muffled, "It's still bleeding you know!?"
"Not for long," Yellowfang answers briskly. "Here, Cinderpelt. You make use of these cobwebs while I see to Graystripe's wounds." She mudges the cobwebs closer to Cinderpelt and leads him away to her den. "Wait here." she orders and disappears inside. She emerges with a mouthful of well chewed herbs. "Now, where does it hurt?"
"This ones the worst." Graystripe answers, twisting his head to point to the bite on his shoulder.
"Right." she meows. She begins to rub in some of the herb mixture with a gentle paw. It hurts for a bit, but then it starts to soothe the bite.
"Bluestar's very shaken." Yellowfang murmurs, not looking up from what she is doing.
"I know. I'm going to organize more patrols at once, that might calm her."
"It might help calm the rest of the clan too." She remarks, "They're really worried."
Dropping his head to the ground he mutters, "They should be." He winces when Yellowfang presses the herbs deeper into his wound. But the relief afterwards makes it worth it.
"How are the new apprentices coming along?" she asks, her voice deceptively casual.
Knowing the old Medicine cat is offering advice in her wise and indirect fashion, he responds, "I"ll speed up their training, starting at dawn tomorrow."
It's a daunting task, considering he has his own apprentice to train, and to do patrols and hunting alongside his warriors more than ever because of Tigerclaw making a threat. A part of him thinks this is an elaborate trick to get them to exhaust themselves, while the other part thinks that Tigerclaw will stop at nothing to get his revenge.
The gray-she cat stops massaging his shoulder.
"Have you finished?"
"Nearly. I'll just put a little on those scratches; then you can go." The old cat blinks at him with wide yellow eyes. "Have courage young Graystripe. These are dark times for Thunderclan, but no cat could do more than you have." As she speaks there is a low rumble of thunder in the distance, a hint of menace that sends a chill through Graystripe despite the encouragement given.
Returning to the main clearing, his wounds numbed by Yellowfang's healing herbs, he is surprised to find many cats still awake. Bluestar, Mousefur and Whitestorm are crouched beside Runningwind's body, their grief made plain in their lowered heads and tense shoulders. The other cats lay in small groups, their eyes blinking in the shadows and their ears twitching nervously as they listen to the sounds of the forest.
Laying down at the edge of the cleaning, the stifling air makes his fur prickle. The whole forest seems like it's waiting for a storm to break. A shadow moves near the edge of the clearing. Swinging his head around to see Darkstripe standing a few foxlengths away.
He beckons the striped warrior closer with his tail. Darkstripe moves slowly towards him. "I want you to take out a second patrol as soon as the Dawn patrol arrives. From now on there will be three extra patrols each day and each patrol must have three warriors. We can't let Tigerclaw have the opportunity to strike."
Darkstripe looks at him coolly, "But I am taking Fernpaw out training."
"You can take her with you. We need to speed up the apprentices training anyway."
The dark striped tabby flicks his ears, his gaze remaining steady. "Yes deputy." he murmurs, his eyes glittering.
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Graystripe wearily pushes his way into Bluestar's den. Even though it is not yet Sunhigh, he's been out on patrol twice today. And he's taking Cloudpaw out hunting this afternoon. The days after Runningwind's death have been busy. All the warriors and apprentices are exhausted trying to keep up with patrols.
With Willowpelt, Goldenflower, and Speckletail in the nursery, Whitestorm reluctant to leave their leader's side and Runningwind gone, he barely has time to eat and sleep.
Bluestar is crouched in her nest, her eyes half-closed and for a moment Graystripe wonders if she has caught the Shadowclan sickness. Her fur is even more matted, ungroomed and she sits with the stillness of a cat who no longer cares for itself, but waits silently for death.
"Bluestar."
The old she-cat turns her head slowly towards him.
"We've been patrolling the forest constantly and… There's been no sign of Tigerclaw and his rogues."
Bluestar looks away without answering. Graystripe pauses, wondering whether or not to say more, but his leader has drawn her paws farther under her chest and closed her eyes. Disheartened, he dips his head and backs out of the cave.
The sunlit clearing looks so peaceful it's hard to believe the clan faces any danger from the looming threat of Tigerclaw. Brackenfur is playing with Willowpelt's kits outside the nursery, flicking his tail for them to chase, while Whitestorm rests in the shade beneath the Highrock. Whitestorm's ears pricked to Bluestar's den is the only thing that betrays the strain the clan is under.
Graystripe stares unenthusiastically toward the growing pile of fresh-kill. His belly feels tight and hollow, but he can't imagine being able to swallow anything. Spotting Sandstorm eating a piece of fresh-kill. The sight of her sleek orange pelt is an unexpected pleasure, and he suddenly can't help but think that he will enjoy her company hunting with Cloudpaw. The thought restores his appetite, his belly growling in anticipation of the chase. He will leave the fresh-kill for others to share.
At the moment, Cloudpaw trots into camp behind Mousefur, Frostfur and Halftail. They're bringing water-soaked moss for the queens and elders. Cloudpaw carries his dripping toward Bluestar's den under Whitestorm's appreciative gaze.
Graystripe calls over to Sandstorm, "You promised me you'd catch us a rabbit whenever I asked. You for coming hunting with Cloudpaw and me?"
Sandstorm looks up. Her green eyes shine with an unspoken that makes his pelt glow more warmly than the rays of sun ever could. "Okay." she calls back, quickly gulping down her last mouthful of food. Still licking her lips, she trots toward him.
They wait side by side for Cloudpaw, and although their pelts barely touch, he can feel his fur tingle. But he's had these same feelings before, with Silverstream. He couldn't possibly be falling in love with Sandstorm. They are friends, like him in Longtail. Though now he is unsure, because at the thought of chasing a rabbit with her when he saw her, he was more excited than if he saw Longtail.
Pushing the thought down, he sees Cloudpaw leaving Bluestar's den. "Are you ready for hunting?"
"Now?" his apprentice mews, surprised.
"I know it's not sunhigh yet, but we can go now if you're not tired."
Cloudpaw shakes his head and hurries after them as him and Sandstorm race out of camp, up the ravine and into the woods, impressed with the way her muscles flex smoothly under her pale ginger coat. Knowing she must be just as tired as him he's impressed that she keeps a quick pace through the undergrowth, her ears pricked and mouth open.
"I think we've found one!" she hisses suddenly, dropping into a hunting crouch. Cloudpaw opens his mouth to scent the air. He stands still while Sandstorm draws herself silently through the bushes. Smelling the rabbit he can hear it snuffling in the undergrowth beyond the clump of ferns. Sandstorm suddenly shoots forward, making the leaves rustle as she speeds through them. The rabbit's hind legs pound against the parched earth as it tries to escape. Leaving Cloudpaw behind, he leaps instinctively, swearing around the ferns and chases the rabbit through the undergrowth across the forest floor as it bolts away from Sandstorm's sharp claws. Taking the it's life with one sharp bite, he thanks Starclan for blessing them with the prey, even if they haven't sent rain for so long. The storm signs by the rumbles of thunder a few nights ago hadn't led to any rain leaving the air dry and brittle.
Sandstorm skids to a halt beside Graystripe as he crouches over the rabbit. She's panting and his own breath is coming in short gasps too.
"Thanks," she mews, "I'm a bit slow today."
"Me too."
"You need a rest."
"We all do." He feels the warmth of her soft green gaze.
"But you've been twice as busy as everyone else."
"There's a lot to do, and Bluestar doesn't want to take any chances. But with how thin we're running ourselves, we might be opening ourselves up for an attack anyway by Tigerclaw. I don't want him to surprise us again, but we're all exhausted and there's been no sign of tom."
Sandstorm looks at him with sympathy, "I know. Fireheart's warning was proven true that evening. Maybe I could help more. I don't have an apprentice…."
"I"m sorry Sand…."
A twinge of guilt pricks at him. Seeing Dustpelt with Ashpaw must have wounded her pride a bit. She did talk about it to him days ago. Tiredness clouds his brain and he realizes too late that Sandstorm has no idea that he was assigned to pick mentors.
Her bewildered stare confirms that. "Sorry about what."
"Bluestar asked me to choose mentors for Fernpaw and Ashpaw. I only chose Dustpelt and Darkstripe because they were under scrutiny for being Tigerclaw's followers. I had no idea you wanted to be a mentor so much. I mean you told me, but I wanted the Clan to feel united that we can still trust one another and…."
Sandstorm cuts him off by touching her nose to his. "I forgive you. And you told me there are lots of kits for me to have a chance."
"Yes. I want you to mentor Stormkit."
"What?"
"With Bluestar on the decline and not recovering I figured to have mentors thought of for my kits. I want you to mentor Stormkit and Longtail to mentor Featherkit. I trust you both and I know you'll make sure my kits can defend themselves. And Longtail's proven himself to be a great mentor already with Swiftpaw…."
"Thanks, Stirpes."
A noise coming from the undergrowth startles both of them. A relieved sigh comes from him once he realizes it's only Cloudpaw. He notices how tired his apprentice looks and remembers how hard it was for him to keep up with his mentor when he was an apprentice. He nudges the dead rabbit towards the white tom.
"Have the first bite, Cloudpaw. I should have given you time to eat before we left. You've been working hard."
"Thank you Graystripe," Cloudpaw mews, before he digs into the rabbit, chewing a mouthful.
"Maybe you could cut down a patrol or two? Every cat is exhausted and like you said we haven't seen Tigerclaw since….." She trails off.
He wishes he could convince Bluestar, but their leader has been more paranoid than ever. She's hardly come out of her den. And he knows Tigerclaw won't give up so easily. Their clanmates are always tense on patrols, their mouths always open, tasting the air for danger. He also sensed their growing frustration against Bluestar, which isn't unwarranted, they need her to unite them against this invisible threat, but she doesn't trust any cat anymore and is too paranoid to act.
"Bluestar wouldn't like it. She hadn't even reacted to my report this morning. And as much as I would like to cut down, we need to be on guard."
"Stupid Tigerclaw! If he sets one paw on our territory again I will tear him apart."
He purrs, "I know you will. But Tigerclaw is stronger than you. I barely won against him myself before Mistyfoot helped and Tigerclaw wasn't as fit as he was back in the clan."
Cloudpaw scrapes the earth with his claws, "It's not fair. Why should we have to cower at the paws of that foxheart."
"He killed Runningwind, and was cunning enough to lead his band of rogues to Thunderclan camp so that if he had actually killed Bluestar it would have looked like one of them." Sandstorm answers, disgust evident in her mew.
Cloudpaw lashes his tail, but doesn't say anything more.
"Your courage suits you well. You remind me of Fireheart when he was standing up against the deputy." He mews, gazing on Cloudpaw with fondness.
"And how did he do that?"
"Well for one he investigated Redtail's death discovering what had truly killed Oakheart which was a rockslide. He went above and beyond to prove that Ravenpaw was... is right about the events that happened that day."
"Really?"
"Yes. He trusted Ravenpaw more than the deputy."
"Wow."
"It all happened because Ravenpaw's storytelling at the gathering contradicted Tigerclaw's tale to the clan and Tigerclaw didn't look too happy. Tigerclaw also spread rumors after that about Ravenpaw and even sent him to snakerocks where he caught an adder."
"He was going to kill your friend?"
"Ravenpaw was the only cat who knew, besides me and Fireheart, the truth about Redtail's death. And he was the only one to make it public that he knew at that Gathering. And Ravenpaw was Tigerclaw's apprentice."
Cloudpaw mews angrily, "That foxheart!"
"I couldn't agree more. Luckily on the night of a heavy rainstorm, when Frostfur's kits were stolen by Clawface we managed to hide him away at the barn on the moors before Tigerclaw could do anything worse than just spread rumors."
"So that's how he ended up on Barley's barn."
"Yes."
Sandstorm leans on his side in comfort. "I'm sorry, you lost a good friend."
"At least he's alive and I can see him whenever I travel to the Moonstone again."
Sighing he mews after a few moments of silence, "Any way let's finish this rabbit and then find something else to take back to the Clan."
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Graystripe curls up in his nest the following evening feeling pleased. Histraining session with Cloudpaw after a long morning went well despite them both being a little exhausted from the hunt yesterday, and the activities of the morning. He drifts into slumber easily from his exhaustion.
The forest weaves its way into his dreams. Tree trunks loom toward him though the mist, disappearing into clouds as they soar upward. He calls out, but his voice is sucked into the eerie silence of his dreamscape. Panic rises to his chest as he searches around for familiar landmarks in the mist, but it is too thick. The trees seem to crowd in on him, growing closer than he remembers, their blackened trunks scraping against his fur. He sniffs the air, his fur bristles in alarm at an acrid scent that he recognizes but cannot name.
Suddenly he feels the softness of another pelt pressing against his own. An achingly familiar scent envelopes him, soothing his fretful mind like a drink of cool water. It's Fireheart.
"What's going on?" he asks, but Fireheart doesn't reply. Graystripe spins around to see him, but he can barely see his friend through the thick mist. He can just make out Fireheart's green eyes filled with fear before the sound of twoleg howling explodes into the silence of the forest.
A pair of young twolegs come running out of the mist, their faces twisted in fear. Graystripe feels Fireheart dive away and turns to see him disappear into the mist. Terrified he is left alone with the twolegs rushing towards him, their feet thundering on the forest floor.
Waking with a start his eyes flash open, and he stares fearfully around the den. Something is wrong. The world of his dreams has invaded the waking world; the acrid scent still fills the air, and a strange choking mist seeps through the branches. Leaping to his paws he scrambles out of the den. An orange light shines dimly through the trees. Is it dawn already?
The smell grows stronger and with a sense of horror Graystripe knows what it is.
Fire!