Warriors 04 - Rising Storm Read Free Page B

pluckingnames at random as he ordered, “Brackenfur can go hunting with Mousefur and…and…”
    â€œI’d like to hunt with them,” Sandstorm offered.
    Fireheart blinked gratefully at the orange she-cat and went on. “…and Sandstorm.”
    â€œWhat about the patrol? It’ll be past sunhigh if we don’t decide soon!” meowed Darkstripe.
    â€œYou can join Runningwind on patrol,” snapped Fireheart.
    â€œAnd the evening patrol?” Mousefur asked mildly. Fireheart stared back at the dusky brown she-cat, his mind suddenly blank.
    Whitestorm’s rusty mew sounded beside Fireheart. “I’d like to lead the evening patrol,” he meowed. “Do you think Swiftpaw and Longtail would like to come with me when they return?”
    â€œYes, of course.” Fireheart looked around the circle of eyes and was relieved to see that they all seemed satisfied.
    The cats moved away, leaving Fireheart alone with Whitestorm. “Thanks,” he meowed, dipping his head to the old warrior. “I guess I should have planned the patrols before now.”
    â€œIt’ll get easier,” Whitestorm reassured him. “We have all grown used to Tigerclaw telling us exactly what to do and when.”
    Fireheart glanced away, his heart sinking.
    â€œThey’re also bound to be more edgy than usual,” Whitestorm went on. “Tigerclaw’s treachery has shaken the whole Clan.”
    Fireheart looked at the white warrior and understood that Whitestorm was trying to encourage him. It was easy to forget that Tigerclaw’s actions had come as a massive shock to the rest of the Clan. Fireheart had known for a long time that Tigerclaw’s hunger for power had driven him to murder and lies. But the other cats had found it hard to believe that the fearless warrior would turn against his own Clan. Whitestorm’s words reminded Fireheart that, even if he did not yet have Tigerclaw’s confident authority, he would never betray his Clan as Tigerclaw had done.
    Whitestorm’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I must go and see Brindleface. She said there was something she wanted to talk to me about.” He dipped his head. The warrior’s respectful gesture took Fireheart by surprise, and he nodded awkwardly in reply.
    As he watched Whitestorm leave, Fireheart’s belly growled with hunger and he thought of the juicy pigeon Cloudpaw had caught. Whitestorm’s ginger-and-white apprentice, Brightpaw, sat outside the apprentices’ den, and Fireheart wondered if she’d brought the elders any fresh-kill. He padded over to the old tree stump where she was washing her tail. She lifted her head and mewed, “Hello, Fireheart.”
    â€œHi, Brightpaw. Been hunting?” Fireheart asked.
    â€œYes,” replied Brightpaw, her eyes shining. “It’s the first time Whitestorm’s let me out by myself.”
    â€œCatch much?”
    Brightpaw looked shyly at her paws. “Two sparrows and a squirrel.”
    â€œWell done,” Fireheart purred. “I bet Whitestorm was pleased.”
    Brightpaw nodded.
    â€œDid you take it straight to the elders?”
    â€œYes.” Brightpaw’s eyes clouded with worry. “Was that okay?” she mewed anxiously.
    â€œThat was great,” Fireheart assured her. If only his own apprentice were so reliable. Cloudpaw should have been back by now. The elders would need more than two sparrows and a squirrel to fill their bellies. He decided to visit them to check that they were not suffering too much from the greenleaf heat. As he approached the fallen oak where the elders made their den, voices drifted up from behind its bare branches.
    â€œWillowpelt’s kits will be born soon.” That was Speckletail. She was the oldest queen in the nursery, and her single kit was weak and small for its age after a bout of whitecough.
    â€œNew kits are always a good omen,”