Firestar’s Quest

The first few paces were easy, but as the trunk grew narrower it began to bounce under Firestar’s weight. Once he reached the branches he had to climb over them. He dug in his claws even harder, terrified that he would slip into the churning current. He flinched as water splashed up between the branches, and felt the surging black river swirl around his hind legs. He clawed his way to safety, half-blinded by bunches of leaves. Twigs scraped his face and snagged in his fur. For a heartbeat he froze as the trunk shifted under his paws; the whole tree was threatening to roll over and pitch him into the water. Bunching his muscles, he sprang forward, pushing his way through the slender upper branches, and landed safely on the far side.

The bank was higher here, with water sucking a couple of mouse-lengths below the top. Trees spread their branches over it, giving some shelter from the driving rain. Firestar drew a few panting breaths, then turned back toward Sandstorm, still waiting on the opposite bank.

“It’s okay!” he called. “You can—”

A rumbling sound interrupted him. At first he thought it was thunder, but it grew louder and louder. Sandstorm was staring upstream, her eyes stretched wide with horror.

Firestar whipped around. A huge wave was bearing down on them, brown and topped with foam, bearing sticks and debris along with it, roaring louder than any monster.

Firestar let out a screech of shock. Dashing to the nearest tree, he leaped up and sank his claws into the trunk. Then the wave was upon him. It surged past, swirling over the tree trunk less than a tail-length below him. Spray spattered his fur. Firestar clung there until the wave had passed. When he climbed down he stared in horror at the river. The fallen tree had been swept away.

How will Sandstorm cross now?

As he looked across to the opposite bank a cold claw sank into his heart. Sandstorm was gone.

Chapter 12

“No!” Firestar yowled. “Sandstorm! Sandstorm, where are you?”

There was no reply. Firestar ran up and down the bank, yowling his mate’s name over and over. He couldn’t see any sign of her, no trace of ginger fur among the debris thrown up on the far bank.

He raced downriver, scrambling over rocks slick with water. Desperately he scanned the banks and the surging water, convinced that every scrap of tossing debris might be his beloved mate.

He had to stop at last, sides heaving, his paws scraped and bleeding. Standing on a boulder, he stared down at the black, gurgling water a tail-length below. If Sandstorm was dead, he would never, ever forgive himself.

You stupid excuse for a cat!

Bluestar’s face in the cloud had clearly been a warning, but he had ignored it. He had been so wrapped up in his quest for SkyClan that he had forgotten what he owed to Sandstorm.

Whatever had happened to her, if she was drowned or lying injured somewhere, it was his fault. He let out a whimper of grief. How could he have let Sandstorm believe that he would 1 4 5

rather have been with Spottedleaf? It was Sandstorm he loved, and he would do anything to live the time over again and send her across the tree trunk first.

Rain still fell, but more gently now, hissing into the river, and the thunder had rolled away into the distance. The gloom of day was fading to twilight. Firestar wanted to go on, but he knew he couldn’t search properly in the dark. He could easily miss Sandstorm if she was lying unconscious.

Every pawstep painful, he crept underneath the jutting boulder and curled up. Exhaustion surged over him like the black water of the river, dragging him into a cold, dreamless sleep.

Pale light reflected from the surface of the water and woke Firestar. He crawled into the open, shivering in the wind.

Clouds raced above his head, tearing away to show blue sky behind them, and the sun was already climbing toward sunhigh. The storm was over. His pelt was almost dry, the fur sticking together in clumps.

For a heartbeat Firestar drew in the clear air, gathering himself for the next stage of his journey. Then memory struck him like the blow from a badger’s paw. Sandstorm was gone.

All that mattered was to find his mate. He couldn’t go on without her; he had to retrace his pawsteps downstream.

Firestar stood on the edge of the river and looked across at the other bank, measuring the distance. His instincts told him to plunge in and swim, but he held back. The river was still full, and too fast-flowing for even a RiverClan cat to cross safely. With a sigh, he began to pad along the bank.