"Yellowfang!" he yowls after he gently placed Bramblekit on the ground.
Blood pounds in his ear as he listens for her reply, but he hears nothing except the crackling of the flames.
Bramblekit crouches at his paw, pressing his small body against Graystripe's legs. Pulsing with fear, frustration and dimly aware of the pain from his singed flanks, he grabs the kit's scruff and races up the slope to Patchpelt.
The old tom hasn't moved, making him worry for the elder. Though seeing the rise and fall of the warriors chest assured him that Patchpelt is still alive and it relieves him. But the elders' condition won't allow him to run to safety. Lowering Bramblekit to the ground he mews in the kit's ear, "Bramblekit, I'm going to have to carry Patchpelt to safety. Can you walk?"
Bramblekit nods, too shocked to mew and his eyes are huge and unfocused. Clamping his tired jaws on Patchpelt's scruff, he glances down the burning slope. Dragging the elder away from the ravine and into the trees with Bramblekit stumbling after them. He wishes he could somehow carry both of them, but he can't leave Patchpelt to die. Somehow Bramblekit will have to find the strength to survive the horrifying journey on his own paws.
Graystripe follows the trail of the other cats blindly, hardly aware of the forest around him, even though he has turned back every few moments to check that Bramblekit is still keeping up. His last sight of the ravine fills his mind, a terrifying trough of flame and smoke that engulfed the camp, his home. And of Yellowfang and Halftail, there had been no sign at all.
They catch up with the rest of Thunderclan at Sunningrocks and Graystripe is relieved Bramblekit found the strength to walk all this way. He lays the black and white tom gently on the flat surface of the stone. The kit races to Goldenflower, and to his sister and foster littermates. The pale ginger queen gives him a sharp tiny shake, choked by the purring rising from her chest. Then she drops him and begins to lick Bramblekit's fur washing the smoke from it. She glances up at him, her eyes glistening with gratitude she could not begin to put into words.
He purrs, happy that the two are reunited. Grief washes over him as he thinks of Yellowfang. But Bramblekit would have died had it not been for his rescue of the kit. The flames of the tree had spread too fast. And even without him on it, it could have trapped all three of them, making the clan lose five cats. He shakes his head, he can't think about that now. His clan needs him.
Gazing around the horror struck cats that crouch on the smooth stones, they won't be safe here, he thinks to himself. They should have kept going to the river where the fire would not get to them. Narrowing his eyes he tries to spot Sandstorm among the huddled shapes, but his legs feel heavier than stone from an infinite weariness and he could not muster the strength to look for her.
He feels Patchpelt stir beside him. The old tom lifts his head, gasping for air, collapsing into a coughing fit that brings Cinderpelt hobbling swiftly towards them from the throng of cats. Watching as she presses her paws heavily on the elders chest, desperately trying to clear his lungs he hopes the old time will be alright.
But Patchpelt stops coughing, falling still. Strangely silent now that he is not wheezing and Cinderpelt looks up, her eyes brimming with sorrow, "He's dead."
Shocked mews ripple across the rock. He stares in disbelief at Cinderpelt. How could he have brought Patchpelt so far, only for him to die? And on almost on the exact same spot of his lost love where she moved on to Starclan. Looking anxiously at Cinderpelt, he knows she must be sharing the same thought. Her eyes are shadowed with grief and her whiskers quiver as she leans down to close the old tom's eyes gently.
He wonders if the pain will be too much for her, as it is for him right now. As the other elders pad forward to share tongues with Patchpelt one last time, the gray Medicine cat sits up and raises her eyes to Graystripe. "We've lost another cat," she whispers, her voice ringing hollow with disbelief. "But my grief won't help the Clan." "
You're beginning to sound as strong as Yellowfang," Graystripe tells her softly. Cinderpelt opens her eyes wide. "Yellowfang! Where is she?"
He feels pain in his chest, so sharp it is as if a splinter from the burning tree has lodged in his heart similar to when Silverstream and Fireheart died. "I don't know," he admits. "I lost her in the smoke while she was rescuing Halftail. I was going to go back, but the kit…" His voice trails away and he can only stare at the gray medicine cat as her eyes clouds with unimaginable pain.
What is happening to their Clan? Did Starclan truly want to kill them all? Bramblekit begins coughing, and Cinderpelt rouses herself, shaking her head as if emerging from icy water.
Graystripe watches her hobble to the kit's side and bends her head, vigorously licking his chest to stimulate his breathing. The coughing dies away into a rhythmic wheezing that in turn eases as Cinderpelt works.
He sits still and listens to the forest. He can feel his fur prickling in the sultry air. A breeze rustles through the trees, blowing from the direction of the camp. He opens his mouth, trying to distinguish fresh smoke from the stench of his singed fur.
Is the fire still burning? Then he realizes he can see the sky filling with clouds of smoke as the breeze drives the flames steadily toward Sunningrocks. His ears flatten as he hears the roaring of the fire rise above the soft murmuring of the leaves.
"It's coming this way," Graystripe yowls, his voice sore and harsh after breathing in the smoke. "We must keep going to the river. We'll only be safe if we cross to the other side. The fire won't reach us there."
The cats look up, startled, their eyes gleaming dimly through the night. The light from the fire is already shining through the trees. Clouds of smoke begin to billow down onto Sunningrocks, and the sound of the flames grows louder, fanned by the rising wind.
Without warning the rocks and the forest are illuminated by a blinding flash. A thunderous crack explodes over the heads of the cats, making them flatten themselves against the rock.
Graystripe lifts his eyes toward the sky. Behind the billowing smoke, he can see rain clouds rolling in overhead. Age-old terror mingled with relief as he realizes that the storm has broken at last. "Rain is coming!" he yowled, encouraging his cowering Clanmates. "It will put out the fire! But we must go now or we won't outrun the flames!"
Brackenfur pushes himself up from the rock first. As understanding rippled through the rest of the Clan, the other cats stand up too. Their horror of the fire outweighs their instinctive fear of the raging skies. They shift restlessly across the rock face, not sure which way to run, and to Graystripe's relief he sees Sandstorm among them, her tail fluffed up and her ears flat back. The cats start to move farther apart, revealing Bluestar sitting motionless halfway up the rock, her face tilted to the stars.
A brilliant fork of lightning splits the sky, but Bluestar remains still. Is she praying to Starclan? Graystripe wonders in disbelief. "This way!" he orders. He signals with his tail as another crash of thunder drowns out his voice. The clan begins to stream down the rock toward the trail that leads to the river.
Seeing the flames flickering between the trees now, a rabbit pelts past him, terrified. It doesn't even seem to notice the cats, weaving through them as it hurtles from the fire and the storm and slips under the rock, instinctively seeking out the sanctuary of the ancient stone. But he knows that the flames will soon engulf this part in terrible death. "Hurry!" he calls, and the cats break into a run. Mousefur and Longtail are carrying Willowpelt's kits once more, while Cloudpaw and Dustpelt drag Patchpelt's body between them, the limp black and-white shape jerking awkwardly over the ground.
Whitestorm and Brindleface flank Bluestar, encouraging the ThunderClan leader onward with gentle nudges. Graystripe turning to look for Sandstorm when he spots Speckletail struggling with her kit grasped in her jaws. The kit is well grown and Speckletail is not as young as the other queens. Racing over and he takes the kit from her. Speckletail flashes him a grateful look and starts running.
The fire is beside them now that they have turned toward the river. Graystripe keeps one eye on the advancing wall of flames as he urges the Clan onward. Around them the trees begin to sway as the storm winds swell and begin to stir the burning forest, fanning the flames toward them. The river is in sight, but they still have to cross it, and few of the ThunderClan cats have done much swimming.
There is no time to go farther downstream to the stepping-stones. As they hurtle across the Riverclan scentline, Graystripe feels the heat of the fire against his flank and a cruel roaring that is even louder than the Thunderpath. He races forward to lead the way down to the riverbank and skids to a halt where the forest floor gives way to the pebbly shore.
The smooth stones glow silver as lightning flashes once more, but the thunder that follows is hardly audible above the roaring of the fire. The Clan stumbles after him, their eyes filled with a new terror as they stare at the fast-flowing river. Graystripe feels his spirit quail at the thought of persuading his water-shy Clanmates to enter the river. But behind them the fire tears through the trees in relentless pursuit, and he knows there is no choice.