"Raggedpelt!"
Sandstorm dropped Squirrelkit and yowled the medicine cat's name. The blood pounded in his ears as he listened for her reply, but he heard nothing except the dreadful crackling of the flames.
Squirrelkit crouched at his paws, pressing his small body against Sandstorm's legs. Pulsing with fear and frustration, and dimly aware of the pain from his singed flanks, Sandstorm grabbed him and raced up the slope back to Patchpelt.
The old she-cat hadn't moved. Sandstorm saw her chest weakly rising and falling and knew that Patchpelt would not be able to run to safety. He lowered Squirrelkit onto the ground. "Follow me!" he yowled before clamping his tired jaws onto Patchpelt's scruff. With a final glance down the burning slope, Sandstorm dragged the black and white she-cat away from the ravine into the trees. Squirrelkit stumbled after them, too shocked to mew, his eyes huge and unfocused. Sandstorm wished he were somehow able to carry both of them, but he couldn't leave Patchpelt to die where she lay. Somehow Squirrelkit would have to find the strength to survive the terrifying journey on his own paws.
Sandstorm followed the trail of the other cats blindly, hardly aware of the forest around him, even though he turned back every few moments to check that Squirrelkit was still keeping up. His last sight of the ravine filled his mind, a terrifying trough of flame and smoke that engulfed the camp, his home. And of Raggedpelt and One-eye, there had been no sign at all.
They caught up with the rest of Thunderclan at Sunningrocks. Sandstorm laid Patchpelt gently on the flat surface of the stone. Squirrelkit raced straight to Tigerclaw, who grasped him by his scruff and gave him a sharp, angry shake, choked by the purring that rose from her chest. Then she dropped him and began washing his smoke-stained fur with furious laps that softened to gentle strokes. The dark brown tabby queen glanced up at Sandstorm, her eyes glistening with a gratitude she could not begin to put into words.
Sandstorm blinked and looked away. It was beginning to dawn on him that Raggedpelt might be lost because he stopped to save Goldenflower's son. He shook his head violently. He couldn't think about that. His Clan needed him. He gazed around at the horror-struck cats who crouched on the smooth stones. Did they think they were safe here? They should have kept going to the river. Sandstorm narrowed his eyes, trying to spot Fireheart among the huddled shapes, but an infinite weariness made his legs feel heavier than stone, and he couldn't find the strength to get up and look for her.
He felt Patchpelt stir beside him. The old she-cat lifted her head, gasping for air, before collapsing into a coughing fit that brought Cinderpelt hobbling stiffly out from the throng of cats. Sandstorm watched as he pressed his paws heavily on Patchpelt's chest, desperately trying to clear her lungs.
Patchpelt stopped coughing. She lay still, strangely silent now that she was not even wheezing, and Cinderpelt looked up, his eyes brimming with sorrow. "She's dead," he murmured.
Shocked mews rippled back across the rock. Sandstorm stared at Cinderpelt in disbelief. How could he have brought Patchpelt this far, only for her to die? And on almost the exact spot where Graystripe had passed into the paws of Starclan. He looked anxiously at Cinderpelt, knowing he must be sharing the same thought. His eyes were shadowed with grief and his whiskers quivered as he leaned down to close the old she-cat's eyes gently. Sandstorm feared the pain would be more than he could near, but as the other elders padded forward to share tongues with Patchpelt, the gray medicine cat sat up and raised his eyes to Sandstorm. "We've lost another cat," he whispered, his voice ringing hollow with disbelief. "But my grief won't help the Clan."
"You're beginning to sound as strong as Raggedpelt," Sandstorm told him softly.
Cinderpelt opened his eyes wide. "Raggedpelt! Where is she?"
Sandstorm felt a pain in his chest, so sharp it was as if a splinter from the burning tree had lodged in his heart. "I don't know," he admitted. "I lost her in the smoke while she was rescuing One-eye. I was going to go back, but the kit..." His voice trailed away and he could only stare at the gray medicine cat as his eyes clouded with unimaginable pain. What was happening to their Clan? Did Starclan truly want to kill them all?
Squirrelkit began coughing, and Cinderpelt roused himself, shaking his head as if emerging from icy water. Sandstorm watched him hobble to the kit's side and bend his head, vigorously licking his chest to stimulate his breathing. The coughing died away into a rhythmic wheezing that in turn eased as Cinderpelt worked.
Sandstorm sat still and listened to the forest. He could feel his fur pickling in the sultry air. A breeze rustled through the trees, blowing from the direction of the camp. Sandstorm opened his mouth, trying to distinguish fresh smoke from the stench of his singed fur. Was the fire still burning? Then he realized he could see the sky filling with clouds of smoke as the breeze drove the flames steadily toward Sunningrocks. His ears flattened as he heard the roaring of the fire rise above the soft murmuring of the leaves.
"It's coming this way," he yowled, 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 looked up, startled, their eyes gleaming dimly through the night. The light from the fire was already shining through the trees. Clouds of smoke began to billow down onto Sunningrocks, and the sound of the flames grew louder, fanned by the rising wind.
Without warning the rocks and the forest were illuminated by a blinding flash. A thunderous crack exploded over the heads of the cats, making them flatten themselves against the rock. Sandstorm lifted his eyes toward the sky. Behind the billowing smoke, he could see rain clouds rolling in overhead. Age-old terror mingled with relief as he realized that the storm had 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!"
Sorreltail pushed himself up from the rock first. As understanding rippled through the rest of the Clan, the other cats stood up too. Their horror of the fires outweighed their instinctive fear of the raging skies. They shifted restlessly across the rock face, not sure which way to run, and to Sandstorm's relief he saw Fireheart among them, her tail fluffed up and her ears flat back. The cats started to move farther apart, revealing Oakstar sitting motionless halfway up the rock, her face tilted to the stars. A brilliant fork of lightning split the sky, but Oakstar remained still. Was she praying to Starclan? Sandstorm wondered in disbelief.
"This way!" he ordered. He signaled with his tail as another crash of thunder drowned out his voice.
The Clan began to stream down the rock toward the trail that led to the river. Sandstorm could see the flames flickering between the trees now. A rabbit pelted past him, terrified. It didn't even notice the cats, weaving through them as it hurtled from the fire and the storm and slipped under the rock, instinctively seeking out the sanctuary of the ancient stone. But Sandstorm knew that the flames would soon engulf this part of the forest, and he didn't want to risk losing any more cats to such a terrible death.
"Hurry!" he called, and the cats broke into a run. Mousefur and Longtail were carrying Willowpelt's kits once more, while Brightpaw and Ferncloud dragged Patchpelt's body between them, the limp black and white shape jerking awkwardly over the ground. Brindleface and Whitestorm flanked Oakstar, encouraging the Thunderclan leader onward with gentle nudges.
Sandstorm was turning to look for Fireheart when he saw Smallear struggling with her kit grasped in her jaws. The kit was well grown and Smallear was not as young as the other queens and king. Sandstorm raced over and took the kit from her. Smallear flashed him a grateful look and started running.
The fire was beside them now that they had turned toward the river. Sandstorm kept one eyes on the advancing wall of flames as he urged the Clan onward. Around them the trees began to sway as the storm winds swelled and began to stir the burning forest, fanning the flames toward them. The river was in sight, but they still had to cross it, and few of the Thunderclan cats had done much swimming. There was no time to go farther downstream to the stepping stones.
As they hurtled across the Riverclan scentline, Sandstorm felt the heat of the fire against his flank and a cruel roaring that was even louder than the Thunderpath. He raced forward to lead the way down to the riverbank and skidded to a halt where the forest floor gave way to the pebbly shore. The smooth stones glowed silver as lightning flashed once more, but the thunder that followed was hardly audible above the roaring of the fire. The Clan stumbled after Sandstorm, their eyes filled with a new terror as they stared at the fast flowing river. Sandstorm felt his spirit quail at the thought of persuading his water shy Clanmates to enter the river. But behind them the fire tore through the trees in relentless pursuit, and he knew there was no choice.