by Erin Hunter
Why should she be so worried about RiverClan warriors? he wondered.
CHAPTER 15
“Well, if it isn’t our newest apprentice, Firepaw!”
Fireheart looked up from his vole to see Longtail swaggering toward him, his tail waving in the air. “Ready for a training session?” the warrior sneered. “Tigerclaw sent me to be your mentor.”
Taking his time, Fireheart swallowed the last of the vole and rose to his paws. He could guess what had happened. Bluestar had told Tigerclaw about the punishment, and Tigerclaw had wasted no time in organizing the first patrol. Naturally he would choose the cat who disliked Fireheart the most to supervise his hunting.
Beside him, Graystripe jumped up and took a pace toward Longtail. “Watch what you say,” he snarled. “We’re not apprentices!”
“That’s not the way I heard it,” replied Longtail, swiping his tongue appreciatively over his jaws as if he had just swallowed a tasty morsel.
“Then we’d better put you right,” Fireheart hissed, beginning to lash his tail. “Do you want me to tear your other ear?”
Longtail took a step back. He was clearly remembering Fireheart’s arrival in the camp. He had fought Longtail fiercely, showing no fear in spite of the warrior’s “kittypet” taunts. Fireheart knew that even if the other cats let Longtail forget his defeat, his torn ear would remind him forever.
“You’d better watch it,” the warrior blustered. “Tigerclaw’ll have your tails off if you touch me.”
“It would be worth it,” Fireheart retorted. “Call me Firepaw once more, and you’ll find out.”
Longtail said nothing, only turning his head aside to lick his pale fur. Fireheart relaxed his threatening stance. “Come on, then,” he grunted. “If we’re going to hunt, let’s get on with it.”
He and Graystripe led the way out of the gorse tunnel and up the side of the ravine. Longtail followed, loudly suggesting where to hunt as if he were in charge, but once they were in the forest Fireheart and Graystripe did their best to ignore him.
The day was cold and gray, and a thin rain had begun to fall. Prey was hard to find. Graystripe caught sight of movement in some bracken fronds and went to investigate, but Fireheart was almost ready to give up by the time he saw a chaffinch pecking around the roots of a hazel bush. He dropped into a crouch, creeping forward paw by paw while the bird pecked on unawares.
He was preparing to pounce, his haunches rocking from side to side, when Longtail jeered, “Call that a crouch? I’ve seen better on a three-legged rabbit!” As soon as he spoke the chaffinch fluttered away in a panic, letting out a loud alarm call.
Fireheart whirled around furiously. “That was your fault!” he snarled. “As soon as it heard you—”
“Rubbish,” meowed Longtail. “Don’t make excuses. You couldn’t catch a mouse if it sat between your paws.”
Fireheart flattened his ears and bared his teeth, but as he braced himself for a fight, he suddenly wondered if Longtail was deliberately provoking him. Longtail would have a fine story to tell Tigerclaw if Fireheart attacked him.
“Fine,” Fireheart growled through his teeth. “If you’re so good, show us how it’s done.”
“As if there’ll be any prey left, after the racket that bird made when you scared it,” Longtail sneered.
“Now who’s making excuses?” Fireheart spat back.
Before Longtail could reply, Graystripe emerged from the bracken with a vole in his jaws. He dropped it beside Fireheart and began to kick earth over it to bury it until they were ready to return to camp.
Longtail used the interruption to turn away and stalk toward the tunnel Graystripe had made in the bracken.
Graystripe watched him go. “What’s the matter with him? He looks as if he’s swallowed mouse bile.”
Fireheart shrugged. “Nothing. Come on, let’s keep going.”
After that, Longtail left them alone, and by sunset the two young warriors had collected a respectable pile of fresh-kill to carry back to the camp.
“You take some to the elders,” Fireheart suggested to Graystripe as they dragged the last pieces in. “I’ll see to Yellowfang and Cinderpaw.” He chose a squirrel and headed toward the medicine cat’s den. Yellowfang was standing outside the cleft in the rock, with Cinderpaw sitting in front of her. Fireheart’s former apprentice looked happy and alert. She was sitting very straight, with her tail wrapped around her paws, and her blue eyes were fixed on Yellowfang as she listened to the old cat.
“We can chew up ragwort leaves and mix them with crushed juniper berries,” rasped Yellowfang. “It makes a good poultice for aching joints. Do you want to try doing it?”
“Okay!” Cinderpaw mewed enthusiastically. She sprang up and sniffed the heap of herbs Yellowfang had laid on the ground. “Does it taste bad?”
“No,” answered Yellowfang, “but try not to swallow it. A bit won’t hurt you, but too much will give you a bellyache. Yes, Fireheart, what do you want?”
Fireheart crossed the clearing, dragging the squirrel between his front paws. Cinderpaw was already crouching in front of the ragwort, chewing vigorously, but she flicked her tail at Fireheart in greeting.
“This is for you,” Fireheart mewed as he dropped the squirrel beside Yellowfang.
“Oh, yes, Runningwind told me you were back on apprentice duties,” Yellowfang growled. “Mouse-brain! You might have known some cat would find out you were helping RiverClan.”
“Well, it’s done now.” Fireheart didn’t want to talk about his punishment.
To his relief, Yellowfang seemed happy to change the subject. “I’m glad you’ve come,” she meowed, “because I want a word with you. You see that poultice?” She lifted her muzzle toward the green mash of chewed leaves Cinderpaw was making.
“Yes.”
“It’s for Smallear. He’s in my den now, with the worst case of stiff joints I’ve seen in moons. He can hardly move. And if you ask me, it’s all because his nest was recently lined with damp moss.” Her tone was mild, but her yellow eyes burned into Fireheart’s.
Fireheart felt his heart sink. “This is about Cloudkit, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” mewed Yellowfang. “He’s been careless about the bedding he’s brought in. If you ask me, he hasn’t bothered to shake the water off.”
“But I showed him how—” Fireheart broke off. He had troubles enough of his own, he thought; it wasn’t fair that he had to keep sorting out Cloudkit as well. He took a deep breath. “I’ll have a word with him,” he promised.
“Do that,” grunted Yellowfang.
Cinderpaw sat up, spitting out scraps of ragwort. “Is that chewed enough?”
Yellowfang inspected her work. “Excellent,” she meowed.
Cinderpaw’s blue eyes glowed with the praise, while Fireheart glanced appreciatively at the old medicine cat. It gave him a warm glow to see how Yellowfang made Cinderpaw feel useful and needed.
“Now you can fetch the juniper berries,” Yellowfang went on. “Let’s see…three should be enough. You know where I keep them?”
“Yes, Yellowfang.” Cinderpaw headed for the split in the rock, bouncing in spite of her limp, her tail lifted high. At the mouth of the den she looked back. “Thanks for the squirrel, Fireheart,” she meowed, before she disappeared.
Yellowfang looked after her approvingly and let out a rusty purr. “Now there’s a cat who knows what she’s doing,” she murmured.
Fireheart agreed. He wished he could say the same about his own kin. “I’ll go and find Cloudkit right now.” He sighed, touching his nose to Yellowfang’s flank before padding out of her den.
The white kit was not in the nursery, so Fireheart tried the elders’ den. As he entered, he heard Halftail’s voice. “So the leader of TigerClan stalked the fox for a night and a day, and on the second night—Hello, there, Fireheart. Come to listen to the story?”
Fireheart glanced around. Halftail was curled up in the moss with Patchpelt and Dappletail nearby. Cloudk
it was crouched in the shelter of the big tabby’s body, his blue eyes wide with wonder as he pictured the mighty black-striped cats of TigerClan. A few scraps of fresh-kill lay on the floor of the den, and from the smell of mouse that clung to Cloudkit’s fur, Fireheart guessed that the elders had let him share.
“No, thanks, Halftail,” he meowed. “I can’t stay. I just wanted to talk to Cloudkit. Yellowfang says he’s been bringing in damp bedding.”
Dappletail let out a snort. “What nonsense!”
“She’s been listening to Smallear,” meowed Patchpelt. “He’d complain if StarClan descended from Silverpelt themselves to bring his bedding.”
Fireheart’s fur prickled with embarrassment. He hadn’t expected to find the elders making excuses for Cloudkit. “Well, have you or haven’t you?” he demanded, glaring at the kit.
Cloudkit blinked up at him. “I tried to get it right, Fireheart.”
“He’s only a kit,” Dappletail pointed out fondly.
“Yes, well…” Fireheart scraped his paws on the floor of the den. “Smallear has got aching joints.”
“Smallear has had aching joints for seasons,” meowed Halftail. “Since well before this kit was littered. You mind your own business, Fireheart, and let us mind ours.”
“Sorry,” Fireheart muttered. “I’ll go, then. Cloudkit, just make sure you’re extra careful about damp moss in the future, okay?”
He started backing out of the den. As he left, he heard Cloudkit meow, “Go on, Halftail. What did TigerClan’s leader do then?”
Fireheart was glad to escape into the clearing. He couldn’t help thinking that Cloudkit probably had been careless over the moss, but it looked like the rest of the elders wouldn’t have a word said against him. Free to take fresh-kill for himself now that he had hunted for the elders, Fireheart was trotting over to the heap when he noticed Brokentail lying outside his den. Tigerclaw was beside him, and the two cats were sharing tongues like old friends.
Unexpectedly moved by the sight, Fireheart paused. Was this Tigerclaw’s merciful side making a rare appearance? He could just hear the rumble of Tigerclaw’s voice, though he was too far away to make out the words. Brokentail replied briefly, looking much more relaxed, as if he was responding to the deputy’s friendliness.
Suddenly all of Fireheart’s old doubts about bringing Tigerclaw to justice welled up inside him. Every cat knew that Tigerclaw was a fierce and courageous fighter, and that he handled the responsibilities of a deputy with effortless confidence. Fireheart had never seen anything to show that he had the compassion of a true leader, until now, with Brokentail….
Fireheart’s mind whirled. Perhaps Bluestar had been right, that Tigerclaw was innocent of Redtail’s death. Perhaps Cinderpaw’s accident had been just that, instead of a trap. What if you’ve been wrong all along? Fireheart thought. Suppose Tigerclaw is just what he seems to be: a loyal and efficient deputy?
But he couldn’t make himself believe it. And as Fireheart padded more slowly over to the pile of fresh-kill, he wished to the tips of his claws that he could be freed from the burden of what he knew.
CHAPTER 16
Fireheart stepped out of the ferns that enclosed the apprentices’ den and stretched out his front paws. It was just after sunrise, and the sky was already a pale eggshell blue, promising fine weather after days of cloud and rain.
In Fireheart’s opinion, sleeping in the apprentice den was the worst part of his punishment. Every time he went in there, Thornpaw and Brightpaw stared at him with huge eyes, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Brackenpaw just looked acutely embarrassed, while Swiftpaw—encouraged by his mentor, Longtail, Fireheart guessed—openly sneered. Fireheart found it hard to relax, and his sleep was broken by dreams in which Spottedleaf bounded toward him, meowing a warning that he could never remember when he woke.
Now Fireheart stretched his jaws in a massive yawn and settled down to give himself a thorough wash. Graystripe was still sleeping; soon Fireheart would have to wake him and find a warrior to supervise them on yet another hunting patrol.
As Fireheart washed, he saw Bluestar and Tigerclaw sitting at the foot of the Highrock, deep in conversation. Idly he wondered what they were talking about. Then Bluestar gave a flick of her tail to summon him. Fireheart sprang up at once and bounded across the camp.
“Fireheart,” Bluestar meowed as he approached, “Tigerclaw and I think you’ve been punished enough. You and Graystripe can be full warriors again.”
Fireheart felt almost giddy with relief. “Thank you, Bluestar!” he meowed.
“Let’s hope it’s taught you a lesson,” growled Tigerclaw.
“Tigerclaw is going to lead a patrol up to Fourtrees,” Bluestar went on before Fireheart could respond. “In two nights the moon will be full, and we need to know if we can make it to the Gathering. Tigerclaw, will you take Fireheart with you?”
Fireheart couldn’t interpret the gleam in the deputy’s amber eyes. He didn’t look pleased—Tigerclaw never did—but there was a certain dark satisfaction, as if he would enjoy putting Fireheart through his paces. Fireheart didn’t care. He was thrilled that Bluestar was trusting him with a real warriors’ mission again.
“He can come,” Tigerclaw meowed. “But if he puts a paw wrong, I’ll want to know the reason why.” His dark coat rippled as he heaved himself to his paws. “I’ll find another cat to go with us.”
Fireheart watched him as he strode across the clearing and disappeared into the warriors’ den.
“This will be an important Gathering,” murmured Bluestar beside him. “We need to find out how the other Clans are coping with the floods. It’s important for our Clan to be there.”
“We’ll find a way, Bluestar,” Fireheart assured her.
But his confidence drained rapidly away a moment later when he saw Tigerclaw reappear from the den. The cat who followed him out was Longtail. It looked as if Tigerclaw had chosen the third member of the patrol deliberately to disadvantage Fireheart.
Fireheart felt a hard lump of apprehension in his stomach. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to go out alone with Tigerclaw and Longtail. The memory of the battle with RiverClan was still too fresh, when Tigerclaw had watched him struggling with a fierce warrior and made no move to help him. And Longtail had been his enemy ever since he had set paw in the camp.
For a moment, fearful pictures of the two cats turning on him in the depths of the forest and murdering him whirled through Fireheart’s mind. Then he shook himself. He was scaring himself like a kit listening to some elder’s tale. No doubt Tigerclaw would make unreasonable demands of him, and Longtail would enjoy every moment, but Fireheart wasn’t afraid of being challenged. He’d show them that he was a warrior equal to them in every way that mattered!
Saying a respectful good-bye to Bluestar, he raced across the clearing and followed Tigerclaw and Longtail out of the camp.
The sun rose higher, and the sky turned to a deep blue as the cats journeyed through the forest toward Fourtrees. The ferns were weighted with glittering drops of dew that clung to Fireheart’s fur as he brushed past. Birds sang, and branches rustled with freshly opened leaves. Newleaf had really come at last.
As he padded after Tigerclaw, Fireheart was distracted by tempting movements in the undergrowth as prey scurried to and fro. After a while the deputy let them stop and hunt for themselves. He was in an unusually good mood, Fireheart thought, relaxing enough to praise the flame-pelted warrior as he pounced on a particularly speedy vole. Even Longtail kept his unfriendly comments to himself.
When they went on, Fireheart’s stomach was warm and full from the vole he had eaten. His uneasy feelings vanished. On a day like this he couldn’t help feeling optimistic, sure that they would soon have good news to take back to Bluestar.
Then they reached the top of a slope and looked down toward the stream that crossed ThunderClan territory, separating them from Fourtrees. Tigerclaw let out a long, soft hiss, and Longtail yowled in dismay.
Fireheart shared their exasperation. Usually the stream was shallow enough for cats to cross easily, keeping their paws dry by leaping from rock to rock. Now the water had spread into a glistening sheet on either side, while the current churned swiftly along the original course of the stream.
“Fancy crossing that?” spat Longtail. “I don’t.”
Without a word, Tigerclaw began padding upstream, following the edge of the floodwater toward the Thunderpath. The land sloped gently upward, and before long, Fireheart could see that the shining surface was broken by tussocks of grass and clumps of bracken poking above the water.
“This isn’t as deep as when Whitestorm last reported,” Tigerclaw meowed. “We’ll try to cross here.”
Fireheart had his doubts that the water would be shallow enough, but he kept them to himself. He knew if he objected, he would just get the usual sneers about his soft kittypet background. Instead he quietly followed Tigerclaw, who was already wading into the flood. He couldn’t help noticing that Longtail’s ears twitched nervously as he splashed in beside him.
The water felt cold as it lapped at Fireheart’s legs. He picked his way carefully, tracing a zigzag course toward the nearest bank of the stream by springing from one clump of grass to the next. Drops of water glittered in the sunlight as he splashed forward. Once a frog wriggled out from under his paws, almost making him lose his balance, but he righted himself by sinking his claws heavily into a waterlogged tussock.
In front of him, the current was brown where it had stirred up mud from the streambed. It was much too wide for a cat to leap, and the stepping-stones were completely submerged. I hope Tigerclaw doesn’t expect us to swim, Fireheart thought with a wince.
Even as the words went through his mind, he heard Tigerclaw’s yowl from farther upstream. “Come here! Look at this!”