Chapter 22

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     Firepaw and Ravenpaw retraced their steps to ThunderPack territory. Both canines were bone-weary and wet, but Firepaw kept up the pace. The storm was beginning to move away. A ThunderPack patrol would be out soon and on Yellowfang's trail. They had to find her first. The sky was still dark, even though the black thunderclouds were beginning to roll away toward the

horizon. Firepaw guessed that it must be nearly sunset.

"Why don't we head straight into ShadowPack territory?" suggested Ravenpaw as they ran down the steep hillside into Fourtrees.

"We need to pick up Yellowfang's scent first," Firepaw explained. "I just hope it won't lead to the

ShadowPack camp." Ravenpaw glanced sideways at his friend, but didn't reply.

They headed back over the stream, into ThunderPack territory. There was no scent of Yellowfang until they crossed into the oak woods close to the camp.

Now that the rain had finally stopped, the scents around them were beginning to return. Firepaw hoped that the rain had not washed away Yellowfang's trail completely. He stopped and brushed at a fern with the tip of his nose, and recognized the familiar smell. Yellowfang's fear-scent prickled in his nostrils. "She came this way!" he barked.

He pushed his way through the wet undergrowth. Ravenpaw followed. The rain was easing, and the thunder was fading into the distance. Time was running out. Firepaw pushed on faster. To his dismay, he realized Yellowfang's scent was indeed leading them straight to ShadowPack territory.

His heart sank. Did this mean Bearclaw's accusations were true? Firepaw began to hope that each new smell would take them in a different direction, but the trail was unfaltering. They arrived at the Thunderpath and halted. Several monsters roared by, throwing up fountains of dirty water. The two canines hung back from the edge of the wide, gray track until there was a gap. Then they raced across the path and into ShadowPack territory.

The scent markers that lined the border made Firepaw's paws tingle. Ravenpaw halted and looked around nervously. "I always thought I'd have a few more warriors with me when I finally entered ShadowPack territory," he confessed.

"Not afraid, are you?" Firepaw murmured.

"Aren't you? My mother warned me about the stench of ShadowPack many times."

"My mother never taught me such things," Firepaw replied. But for the first time he was relieved that his fur was so wet that it clung to his body—Ravenpaw might not notice the way it was bristling fearfully along his spine.

The two canines prowled onward, alert to every sight and sound. Ravenpaw was on the lookout for ShadowPack patrols, and Firepaw for the ThunderPack party he knew must come soon. Yellowfang's scent-trail led them steadily into the heart of ShadowPack's hunting grounds. The woods here were gloomy, the undergrowth crowded with nettles and brambles.

"I can't smell her," complained Ravenpaw. "It's too wet."

"It's there," Firepaw assured him.

"I can smell that though," Graypaw spat suddenly.

"What?" Firepaw whispered. He stopped, alarmed.

"Pup-scent. There's pup blood here!"

Firepaw sniffed again, seeking out the smell of ThunderPack offspring. "I smell it too," he agreed. "And something else!" He flicked his tail down sharply, warning Ravenpaw to keep quiet. Then, silently, he signaled towards a blackened ash tree up ahead. Ravenpaw twitched his ears questioningly. Firepaw gave him a tiny nod. Yellowfang was sheltering behind the wide, split trunk.

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