Forest of Secrets

by Erin Hunter

Fireheart splashed toward him. The deputy, with Longtail beside him, was standing at the edge of the stream. A branch was lodged in front of them, swept into place by the current so that it stretched from one bank to the other.

  “Just what we need,” Tigerclaw grunted in satisfaction. “Fireheart, check that it’s safe, will you?”

  Fireheart gazed doubtfully at the branch. It was much thinner than the fallen tree that he had used to cross to RiverClan’s territory. Twigs poked out in all directions, still with dead leaves dangling from them. Every few moments the whole branch gave a slight jerk, as if the current wanted to sweep it away again.

  With any other senior warrior, or even Bluestar, Fireheart would have discussed how safe the branch was before he set paw on it. But no cat questioned an order from Tigerclaw.

  “Scared, kittypet?” Longtail taunted him.

  Determination burned in Fireheart’s belly. He would not show fear in front of these cats and let them have the pleasure of reporting it to the rest of the Clan. Gritting his teeth, he stepped onto the end of the branch.

  Immediately it sagged under his paws, and he dug his claws in hard, fighting for balance. He could see brown water racing a mouse-length below, and for a few heartbeats he thought he would plunge straight into it.

  Then he steadied himself. He began to move forward cautiously, placing his paws in a straight line one after the other. The slender branch bounced under his weight with every step. Twigs caught in his fur, threatening his balance. We’ll never get to the Gathering like this, Fireheart thought.

  Gradually he drew closer to the middle of the stream, where the current was strongest. The branch tapered until it was barely as thick as his tail, making it harder to find a pawhold. Pausing, Fireheart measured the distance left; was he close enough to leap safely yet?

  Then the branch lurched under him. Instinctively he gripped tighter with his claws. He heard Tigerclaw yowl, “Fireheart! Get back!”

  For a heartbeat Fireheart swayed precariously. Then the branch lurched again and suddenly it was free, racing along with the surging water. Fireheart slipped sideways, and thought he heard Tigerclaw yowl once more as the waves closed over his head.

  CHAPTER 17

  As he plunged into the stream Fireheart managed to keep one clawhold on the branch. He felt as if he were fighting a spiky wooden enemy, twigs that lashed at him and raked through his fur while his breath bubbled into the dark water. His head broke the surface briefly, but before he could gasp in air the branch twisted and rolled him under again.

  Terror made him strangely calm, as if time had slowed down. Part of Fireheart’s mind told him to let go of the branch and fight his way to the surface, but he knew that if he did that he would risk his life; the current was far too strong for him to swim. The force of the water meant there was nothing he could do but dig his claws in and endure. StarClan help me! he thought frantically.

  His senses were just beginning to ebb into a tempting darkness when the branch rolled over again and brought him back to the surface. Choking and spitting he clung to it, with water churning along on either side of him. He could not see the bank. He tried to haul himself farther out of the water, but his sodden fur was too heavy and his limbs were growing stiff with cold. He did not know how long he could hold on.

  Just as he felt that he was about to let go, something brought the branch to a jarring stop. It shuddered along its whole length, almost throwing Fireheart off. As he clung on desperately, he heard a cat screech his name. Twisting his head, he saw that the other end of the branch was jammed against a rock that jutted out into the stream.

  Longtail was crouched on the rock, leaning down toward him. “Move, kittypet!” he growled.

  With his last drop of energy, Fireheart scrambled along the length of the branch. Twigs whipped across his face. He felt the branch lurch again and flung himself at the rock, his front paws scraping at it while his hind legs thrust through the water. His paws had barely touched stone when the branch was swept away from underneath him.

  For a heartbeat Fireheart thought he would follow it. The rock was smooth; there was no purchase for his paws. Then Longtail reached down and Fireheart felt his teeth meet in the scruff of his neck. With the other cat’s help he managed to claw his way upward until he was crouching on the top of the rock. Shivering, he coughed up several mouthfuls of stream water before he looked up. “Thanks, Longtail,” he gasped.

  The warrior’s face was expressionless. “It was nothing.”

  Tigerclaw padded up from behind the rock. “Are you hurt?” he demanded. “Can you walk?”

  Shakily, Fireheart pushed himself to his paws. Water streamed off his coat as he shook himself. “I-I’m fine, Tigerclaw,” he stammered.

  Tigerclaw stepped backward to avoid the spinning droplets from Fireheart’s fur. “Watch it; we’re all wet enough already.” Approaching Fireheart again he gave a rapid sniff down the length of his body. “Back to camp for you,” he ordered. “In fact, we’ll all go back. No cat can get across that water; you’ve proved that, if nothing else.”

  Fireheart nodded and wordlessly followed the deputy back into the forest. Colder and more tired than he could ever remember being before, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep in a patch of sunlight.

  But while his limbs felt like waterlogged stone, his mind was a whirlpool of fear and suspicion. Tigerclaw had sent him out onto the branch, when any cat could see it was dangerous. Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if Tigerclaw had deliberately dislodged it, to make sure that he was flung into the swollen stream.

  Not if Longtail was watching, he decided. After all, Longtail had rescued him; much as Fireheart disliked Longtail, he had to admit that the pale tabby would stick rigidly to the Clan code when another warrior needed his help.

  Even so, Tigerclaw could have shifted the branch without letting Longtail see, or perhaps Longtail hadn’t understood what was happening. Fireheart would have liked to ask him, but he knew that if he did the question would be reported to Tigerclaw.

  Then he glanced at Tigerclaw, and saw the deputy glaring at him with unmasked hatred. As Fireheart met the amber stare, he saw Tigerclaw’s eyes narrow as if with an unspoken threat. And in that moment Fireheart knew that somehow Tigerclaw had tried to murder him. This time he had failed. But what about next time? Fireheart’s tired brain shied away from what was all too obvious. Next time, Tigerclaw would make sure he did not fail.

  By the time he reached the camp, the warm newleaf sun had dried Fireheart’s fur, but he was so exhausted he could scarcely put one paw in front of another.

  Sandstorm, who was sunning herself outside the warriors’ den, sprang up as soon as she saw him and bounded over to his side. “Fireheart!” she exclaimed. “You look awful! What happened?”

  “Nothing much,” Fireheart mumbled. “I was—”

  “Fireheart went for a swim, that’s all,” Tigerclaw interrupted. He looked down at the young warrior. “Come on. We need to report to Bluestar.” He strode across to the Highrock with Longtail at his heels. As Fireheart staggered after them, Sandstorm padded close beside him, pressing her warm body against his for support.

  “Well?” Bluestar asked when the cats stood in front of her. “Did you find somewhere to cross?”

  Tigerclaw shook his massive head. “It’s impossible. The water’s too high.”

  “But every Clan should attend the Gathering,” Bluestar pointed out. “StarClan will be angry if we don’t try to find a dry route. Tigerclaw, tell me exactly where you went.”

  Tigerclaw began to describe the events of the morning in more detail, including Fireheart’s attempt to cross by the branch. “It was brave but foolish,” he growled. “I thought he’d paid with his life.”

  Sandstorm looked around, impressed, but Fireheart knew as well as Tigerclaw that he had had no choice about getting onto the branch.

  “Be more careful in the future, Fireheart,” Bluestar warned. “You’d better see Yellowfang in case yo
u’ve caught a chill.”

  “I’m fine,” Fireheart told her. “I just need to sleep, that’s all.”

  Bluestar’s eyes narrowed. “That was an order, Fireheart.”

  Stifling a yawn, Fireheart bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Bluestar.”

  “Come to the den when you’ve finished,” meowed Sandstorm, giving him a lick. “I’ll fetch you some fresh-kill.”

  Fireheart mewed his thanks and stumbled unsteadily to Yellowfang’s den. The clearing was empty, but when he called Yellowfang’s name the old medicine cat poked her head out of the gap in the rock.

  “Fireheart? Great StarClan, you look like a squirrel that’s fallen out of its tree! What happened to you?”

  She padded toward him as he explained. Cinderpaw limped out behind her and sat beside Fireheart, her blue eyes wide as she heard how he had nearly drowned.

  Seeing her, Fireheart could not help remembering how she had been injured beside the Thunderpath—another accident arranged by Tigerclaw? Not to mention the cold-blooded murder of Redtail. His head spinning with fatigue, Fireheart wondered how he could possibly stop Tigerclaw before another cat died for the deputy’s ruthless ambition.

  “Right,” rasped Yellowfang, interrupting his troubled thoughts. “You’re a strong cat, and you probably haven’t taken a chill, but we’ll check you to make sure. Cinderpaw, what should we look for when a cat gets a soaking?”

  Cinderpaw sat up straight with her tail wrapped around her paws. Eyes fixed on Yellowfang, she recited, “Poor breathing, sickness, leeches in his fur.”

  “Good,” grunted Yellowfang. “Off you go, then.”

  Very carefully, Cinderpaw sniffed along the length of Fireheart’s body, parting his fur with one paw to make sure that no leeches had fastened themselves onto his skin. “Breathing okay, Fireheart?” she asked gently. “Do you feel sick?”

  “No, everything’s fine,” Fireheart mewed. “I just want to sleep for a moon.”

  “I think he’s all right, Yellowfang,” Cinderpaw reported. She pressed her cheek against Fireheart’s and gave him a couple of quick licks. “Just don’t go jumping in any more rivers, eh?”

  Yellowfang let out a throaty purr. “All right, Fireheart, you can go and sleep now.”

  Cinderpaw flicked up her ears in surprise. “Aren’t you going to check him as well? What if I’ve missed something?”

  “No need,” meowed Yellowfang. “I trust you, Cinderpaw.” The old cat stretched, arching her skinny back, and then relaxed. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you for a while,” she went on. “I see so many mouse-brained cats around here that it’s a real joy to find one with some sense. You’ve learned quickly, and you’re good with sick cats.”

  “Thank you, Yellowfang!” Cinderpaw burst out, her eyes round with surprise at Yellowfang’s praise.

  “Be quiet, I haven’t finished. I’m getting old now, and it’s time I started to think about finding an apprentice. Cinderpaw, how would you feel about becoming ThunderClan’s next medicine cat?”

  Cinderpaw leaped to her paws. Her eyes were sparkling and she quivered with excitement. “Do you really mean it?” she whispered.

  “Of course I mean it,” Yellowfang growled. “I don’t talk for the pleasure of hearing my own voice, unlike some cats.”

  “In that case, yes,” Cinderpaw murmured, lifting her head with dignity. “I’d like that better than anything in the whole world!”

  Fireheart felt his heart begin to beat faster with happiness. He had worried so much for Cinderpaw, at first when he thought she might die, then when it became clear that her injured leg would stop her from becoming a warrior. He remembered how she had wondered desperately what she could make of her life. And now it looked as if Yellowfang had found the perfect solution. Seeing the young she-cat so happy and excited about the future was more than Fireheart had ever hoped for.

  Fireheart went back to the warriors’ den on lighter paws to share fresh-kill with Sandstorm and then to sleep. When he awoke, the light in the den was red from the rays of the setting sun.

  Graystripe was nudging him. “Wake up,” his friend meowed. “Bluestar has just called a meeting.”

  Fireheart left the den to find Bluestar already standing on the top of the Highrock. Yellowfang was beside her, and when all the cats were assembled it was the old medicine cat who spoke first.

  “Cats of ThunderClan,” she rasped, “I have an announcement to make. As you know, I am not a young cat. It’s time I took an apprentice. So I’ve chosen the only cat I can put up with.” Yellowfang let out an amused purr. “And the only cat who can put up with me. Your next medicine cat will be Cinderpaw.”

  A chorus of pleased meows broke out. Cinderpaw sat at the foot of the rock, her eyes shining and her fur sleekly groomed. She lowered her head shyly as the Clan congratulated her.

  “Cinderpaw.” Bluestar made herself heard above the noise. “Do you accept the post of apprentice to Yellowfang?”

  Cinderpaw lifted her head to look up at her leader. “Yes, Bluestar.”

  “Then at the half moon you must travel to Mothermouth, to be accepted by StarClan before the other medicine cats. The good wishes of all ThunderClan will go with you.”

  Yellowfang half jumped, half slithered down from the rock, and padded up to Cinderpaw to touch noses with her. Then the rest of the Clan gathered around the new apprentice. Fireheart caught sight of Brackenpaw pressing close to his sister, his eyes glowing with pride, and even Tigerclaw went up to her and meowed a few words. It was clear that Cinderpaw was a popular choice for this important position.

  As he waited to give Cinderpaw his congratulations, Fireheart could not help wishing that all his own problems could be solved as smoothly.

  CHAPTER 18

  The sun began to set for the third time since Fireheart had almost drowned. The young warrior was washing himself outside his den, scraping his tongue across his fur. He kept imagining that he could still taste the muddy water. As he twisted his head to wash his back, he heard the pad of approaching paws, and looked up to see Tigerclaw looming over him.

  “Bluestar wants you to go to the Gathering,” the deputy growled. “Meet her outside her den—and bring Sandstorm and Graystripe.” He stalked away before Fireheart could reply.

  Fireheart got up and stretched. Glancing around, he spotted Graystripe and Sandstorm eating beside the patch of nettles, and hurried over to join them. “Bluestar has chosen us to go to the Gathering,” he announced.

  Sandstorm finished off her blackbird and swiped a pink tongue around her jaws. “But can we get to the Gathering?” she meowed, sounding puzzled. “I thought the stream was impossible to cross.”

  “Bluestar said StarClan would be angry if we didn’t try,” Fireheart mewed. “She wants to talk to us now—maybe she has a plan.”

  Graystripe spoke through a mouthful of vole. “I just hope she doesn’t expect us to swim.” In spite of his words, his eyes shone with excitement as he gulped the rest of the fresh-kill and sprang to his paws. Fireheart knew he must be looking forward to a chance to see Silverstream, and he wondered if they had managed to meet in the time since he and Graystripe had been caught crossing the river after their ill-fated hunting mission for RiverClan.

  Fireheart thought of Silverstream’s kits, and he wondered how Graystripe would be able to bear seeing them grow up in another Clan. Would Silverstream ever be able to tell them that Graystripe, the ThunderClan warrior, was their father? Fireheart tried to put the questions out of his mind as he and his friends crossed the clearing to the Highrock. Bluestar was sitting outside her den, with Whitestorm, Mousefur, and Willowpelt already by her side. A moment later Tigerclaw and Darkstripe joined them.

  “As you know, the moon is full tonight,” Bluestar began when all the cats were gathered around her. “It will be hard to get to Fourtrees, but StarClan would expect us to do all we can to find a dry route. So I’ve chosen warriors only—this will be no journey for elders or apprentices, or q
ueens expecting kits. Darkstripe, you led a patrol to examine the stream this morning. Report what you found.”

  “The water’s going down,” meowed Darkstripe. “But not fast enough. We patrolled as far as the Thunderpath, and there’s nowhere a cat could cross without swimming.”

  “The stream’s narrower up there,” mewed Willowpelt. “Could we jump across?”

  “Maybe, if you grew wings,” Darkstripe replied. “If all you’ve got is your own paws…”

  “But that has to be the best place to try,” insisted Whitestorm.

  Bluestar nodded. “We’ll start there,” she decided. “Maybe StarClan will lead us to a safe place.” She rose to her paws and led her cats quietly out of the camp.

  The sun had gone down, and twilight blurred the shapes of the forest. In the distance an owl hooted, and Fireheart could hear the rustle of prey in the undergrowth, but the warriors were too intent on their journey to hunt. Bluestar took them straight through the trees to the place where the stream emerged from a hard stone tunnel underneath the Thunderpath. Their usual route to Fourtrees did not pass this close to the Thunderpath, and Fireheart wondered what his leader was planning to do. When they reached the tunnel, he saw that floodwater spread out on either side, reflecting the pale light of the rising moon. Water covered the Thunderpath as well, and as the cats watched they saw a monster pass by, moving slowly, throwing up a filthy wave from its round black paws.

  Once the monster had disappeared into the distance, Bluestar led her cats to the water’s edge on the hard surface of the Thunderpath. She sniffed the water, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and cautiously put one paw into the flood. “It’s shallow enough here,” she meowed. “We can walk up the Thunderpath until we’re on the other side of the stream, and get to Fourtrees along the border with ShadowClan.”

  Walk up the Thunderpath! Fireheart felt his coat begin to prickle with fear at the thought of deliberately following the tracks of the monsters. Cinderpaw’s accident had shown him what they could do to a cat, and she had only been at the edge.