by Erin Hunter
Fireheart went to sit beside her, feeling uncomfortable about the harsh way he had spoken to Bramblekit. “Have you told them that their father is leader of ShadowClan now?” he asked quietly.
Goldenflower gave him a quick glance. “No, not yet,” she admitted. “They would only boast about it, and then some cat would tell them the rest of the story.”
“Sooner or later they’ll find out,” meowed Fireheart.
The ginger queen vigorously washed her chest fur for a few moments. “I’ve seen the way you look at them,” she mewed at last. “Especially Bramblekit. It’s not his fault that he looks exactly like Tigerstar. But other cats look at him like that too.” Thoughtfully she licked her paw and drew it over her ear. “I want my kits to grow up happy, not feeling guilty because of something that happened before they were born. Maybe there’s more hope of that now, if Tigerstar becomes a great leader. Maybe they’ll even be proud of him in the end.”
Fireheart twitched his ears uncomfortably, unable to share her optimism.
“They both respect you, you know,” Goldenflower went on. “Especially since you saved Bramblekit from the fire.”
For a moment Fireheart didn’t know what to say. He felt guiltier than ever about his hostile feelings toward Bramblekit, yet however hard he tried he could not help seeing the murderous father in the young kit.
“I think you should tell them about Tigerstar,” Goldenflower meowed, turning an intense gaze on him. “You’re the deputy, after all. They would take it well from you—and I know you would tell them the truth.”
“You…you think I should tell them now?” Fireheart stammered. The way Goldenflower spoke made it sound like a challenge.
“No, not now,” replied Goldenflower calmly. “Not until you’re ready. And when you think they’re ready,” she added. “But don’t leave it for too long.”
Fireheart dipped his head. “I will, Goldenflower,” he promised. “And I’ll make it as easy for them as I can.”
Before Goldenflower could reply, Bramblekit came skidding up to his mother with Tawnykit just behind him. “Can we go and see the elders?” he asked, eyes shining. “One-eye promised to tell us some great stories!”
Goldenflower let out an indulgent purr. “Yes, of course,” she meowed. “Take her something from the pile of fresh-kill—that’s good manners. And mind that you’re back here by sunset.”
“We will!” meowed Tawnykit. She dashed off across the camp, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to fetch a mouse for One-eye!”
“No, you’re not, I am!” Bramblekit yowled, scampering after her.
“Well,” Goldenflower meowed, turning back to Fireheart, “if you can see anything wrong with those kits, tell me what it is, because I can’t.”
She got up, obviously not needing an answer, and shook each paw in turn before retreating into the nursery. Fireheart watched her go. Somehow he had managed to make himself unpopular with both Speckletail and Goldenflower; even though Goldenflower trusted him, she clearly found it hard to forgive him for his conflicting feelings about Bramblekit—and he was no nearer to sorting them out.
Sighing, he got to his paws, realizing it was time he sent out the evening patrol. As he turned away from the nursery he caught sight of Brackenfur, who was hovering nearby as if he wanted to speak to him.
“Is there a problem?” he asked the young warrior.
“I don’t know,” Brackenfur replied. “It’s just that I saw what happened there, with Speckletail’s kit, and—”
“You’re not going to tell me I was too hard on Bramblekit, are you?”
“No, Fireheart, of course not. But…well, I think there might be something wrong with Snowkit.”
Fireheart knew that the golden brown tom wouldn’t make a fuss about nothing. “Go on,” he urged.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Brackenfur explained. He scuffed the ground with his forepaws, an embarrassed look on his face. “I…I sort of hoped Bluestar might choose me to mentor him, and I wanted to get to know him. And I think there’s something the matter with him. He doesn’t play like the others. He doesn’t seem to respond when any cat talks to him. You know kits, Fireheart—noses into everything—but Snowkit’s not like that. I think Cinderpelt ought to have a look at him.”
“I suggested that to Speckletail and practically got my ears clawed.”
Brackenfur shrugged. “Maybe Speckletail won’t admit there could be anything wrong with her kit.”
Fireheart thought for a moment. Snowkit did seem slow and unresponsive compared with the other kits. He was much older than Goldenflower’s litter, but nothing like as well developed. “Leave it with me,” he meowed. “I’ll have a word with Cinderpelt. She’ll find a way of taking a look at the kit without upsetting Speckletail.”
“Thanks, Fireheart.” Brackenfur sounded relieved.
“Meanwhile,” Fireheart mewed, “can you lead the evening patrol? Ask Mousefur and Brindleface to go with you.”
Brackenfur straightened up. “Sure, Fireheart,” he replied. “I’ll go and look for them now.”
He set off across the camp with his tail held high. When he had gone a few fox-lengths, Fireheart called him back. “Oh, and Brackenfur,” he mewed, pleased for once to impart good news, “when Snowkit is ready, I’ll speak to Bluestar about letting you mentor him.”
Before Fireheart went to find Cinderpelt, he visited Bluestar to tell her about the apprentices’ assessment. The Clan leader was seated outside her den in a patch of sunshine, and Fireheart thought hopefully that she might be feeling more like her old self. But her blue eyes looked tired as she blinked at him, and a piece of fresh-kill lay beside her, only half-eaten.
“Well, Fireheart?” she asked as he approached. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got good news, Bluestar.” Fireheart tried to sound cheerful. “I assessed all four of the older apprentices today. They did well. I think it’s time they were made into warriors.”
“The older apprentices?” Bluestar’s eyes clouded with confusion. “That would be Brackenpaw, and…and Cinderpaw?”
Fireheart’s heart sank. Bluestar couldn’t even remember which cats were apprentices! “No, Bluestar,” he mewed patiently. “Cloudpaw, Brightpaw, Swiftpaw, and Thornpaw.”
Bluestar shifted a little. “That’s who I meant,” she snapped. “And you want them to be warriors? Just…just remind me who their mentors are, will you?”
“I’m Cloudpaw’s mentor,” Fireheart began, trying to keep his increasing dismay out of his voice. “The others are Longtail—”
“Longtail,” Bluestar interrupted. “Ah, yes…one of Tigerclaw’s friends. Why did we give him an apprentice, when we can’t trust him?”
“Longtail chose to stay in ThunderClan when Tigerclaw left,” Fireheart reminded her.
Bluestar snorted. “That doesn’t mean we can trust him,” she repeated. “We can’t trust any of them. They’re traitors and they’ll train more traitors. I won’t make warriors of any of their apprentices!” She paused as Fireheart stared at her, appalled, then added, “Only yours, Fireheart. You alone are faithful to me. Cloudpaw can be a warrior, but not those others.”
Fireheart didn’t know what to say. Even though the Clan seemed happy to have Cloudpaw back after his escapade with the Twolegs, Fireheart could foresee trouble if his apprentice was made a warrior and the other apprentices were not. Besides, it wouldn’t do Cloudpaw any good to be singled out for an honor that the others deserved just as much as he did.
Fireheart fought with rising panic as he realized that meant none of the apprentices could be made into warriors yet. Even though the Clan needed them so desperately, he knew there was no reasoning with Bluestar in this mood.
“Er…thanks, Bluestar,” he meowed at last, starting to back away. “But maybe we’ll wait awhile longer. A bit more training won’t hurt.”
He made his escape, leaving Bluestar looking after him with the same vague expression in her eyes.
CHAPTER 5
The sun was going down, casting long shadows across the clearing, by the time Fireheart went to look for Cinderpelt. He found the medicine cat in her den, checking her supplies of healing herbs, and sat just outside the entrance to talk to her.
“Speckletail’s kit?” she meowed when Fireheart had told her about Brackenfur’s suspicions. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see what he means. I’ll take a look.”
“You’ll have to be careful of Speckletail,” Fireheart warned her. “When I suggested she might let you check Snowkit, she practically bit my nose off.”
“I’m not surprised,” remarked Cinderpelt. “No queen wants to believe her kits aren’t perfect. I’ll deal with it, Fireheart; don’t worry. But not right away,” she added, patting her store of juniper berries into a neater pile. “It’s too late to disturb them tonight, and tomorrow I have to go to Highstones.”
“So soon?” Fireheart was surprised; he hadn’t realized how quickly the days were slipping by.
“Tomorrow night is the new moon. All the other medicine cats will be there too. StarClan will give me my full powers.” Cinderpelt hesitated and then added, “Yellowfang should have come with me, to present me to StarClan as a fully trained medicine cat. Now I’ll have to go through the ceremony without her.” Her eyes grew wide and remote as she spoke. Fireheart felt that she was moving far away from him, into a land of shadows and dreams where he could not follow her.
“You’ll need to take a warrior with you,” he meowed. “Last time Bluestar tried to go to Highstones, WindClan wouldn’t let her pass through their territory.”
Cinderpelt looked at him calmly. “I’d like to see the patrol that would dare to stop a medicine cat. StarClan would never forgive that.” Her expression changed and her eyes glinted mischievously. “You can come as far as Fourtrees if you like. Assuming you can spare the time from Sandstorm.”
Fireheart felt uncomfortable. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered. But he remembered leaving to go and eat with Sandstorm while Cinderpelt was telling him about her dream, and he guessed that the medicine cat had felt unfairly dismissed. “Sandstorm can lead the dawn patrol without me,” he mewed out loud. “I’ll come with you to Fourtrees.”
The next day dawned damp and misty. Tendrils of fog curled between the trees as Fireheart and Cinderpelt made their way to Fourtrees. The clinging white clouds dampened the sound of their pawsteps and beaded their fur with tiny droplets. In the silence Fireheart jumped at the sudden alarm call of a bird above his head. He felt half-afraid that they might lose their way in this eerily unfamiliar-looking forest.
But by the time they crossed the stream and began to climb the slope to Fourtrees, the mist had begun to clear, and at the top of the hollow they emerged into bright sunlight. The four massive oaks stood straight ahead of them, their leaves turning red-gold with the approach of leaf-fall.
Cinderpelt let out a noisy breath and shook the moisture from her fur. “That feels good! I was starting to think I’d have to scent my way to Highstones, and I’ve only been there once before, with Yellowfang.”
Fireheart too enjoyed the feeling of warm sun on his fur. He stretched luxuriously and opened his jaws to taste the air, hoping to pick up the scent of prey.
Instead, the scent of other cats flooded over him. ShadowClan! he thought, his muscles tensing as his gaze flicked from side to side. A moment later he relaxed as he spotted Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, padding up to the hollow from ShadowClan territory with another cat beside him. This was no hostile warrior. StarClan raised medicine cats above the level of Clan rivalry.
“It looks as if you won’t have to travel alone after all,” he meowed to Cinderpelt.
They waited until the ShadowClan cats came up to them. As they drew nearer, Fireheart recognized the other cat. It was Littlecloud, a small tabby tom who had almost died in his Clan’s recent sickness. He and another warrior, Whitethroat, had tried to seek refuge with ThunderClan. Bluestar had refused to take them in, but Cinderpelt had secretly sheltered them and cared for them until they were fit enough to travel back to their own territory.
Whitethroat had died soon after, when Tigerstar and his rogues had attacked a ThunderClan patrol. A monster had cut the young cat down on the Thunderpath as he was fleeing from the fight. Reliving the shock of that moment, Fireheart was glad to see that Littlecloud at least looked strong and healthy again.
“Hello, there!” Runningnose greeted the ThunderClan cats cheerfully. “Well met, Cinderpelt. It’s a good day to travel.”
Littlecloud nodded respectfully to Fireheart and went to touch noses with Cinderpelt.
“It’s good to see you on your paws again,” she meowed.
“All thanks to you,” Littlecloud replied. With a touch of pride he added, “I’m Runningnose’s apprentice now.”
“Congratulations!” Cinderpelt purred.
“And that’s because of you too,” Littlecloud went on enthusiastically. “When we were ill, you knew just what to do. And then you gave us healing herbs to take back to the Clan—and they worked! I want to do more stuff like that.”
“He has real talent,” Runningnose mewed. “And it took courage to come back to us with the herbs. I’m only sorry Whitethroat didn’t come back with him.”
“He didn’t?” Fireheart asked, seizing the chance to find out how much the ShadowClan cats knew about the young warrior’s fate.
Sadly, Littlecloud shook his head. “He wouldn’t come back with me to camp. He was scared of catching the sickness again, even though we had the healing herbs with us.” He blinked as if the memory caused him pain. “We found his body beside the Thunderpath a few days later.”
“I’m sorry,” Fireheart meowed. He wondered whether to tell him the truth about how Whitethroat had died, but decided it would be too harmful to reveal that Littlecloud’s new leader had been partly responsible for his friend’s death. It was clear that Whitethroat must have joined the rogues for a short time, and paid with his life.
Cinderpelt pressed her muzzle comfortingly against Littlecloud’s flank. Settling down on the warm grass, she beckoned with her tail for the apprentice to sit beside her and began to ask him about his training.
“Are things better now?” Fireheart carefully asked Runningnose. He would have liked to warn the medicine cat about Tigerstar, but there was so little he could say without revealing what had happened in ThunderClan.
“It seems so,” meowed Runningnose, sounding equally guarded. “The apprentices are getting a proper training for the first time in moons, and our bellies are always full.”
“That’s good news,” Fireheart mewed, forcing himself to add, “What about the rogues?”
Runningnose frowned. “Not every cat was happy about their coming into our Clan,” he admitted. “I wasn’t happy about them myself. But they haven’t caused any trouble—and they’re strong warriors; no cat can deny that.”
“Then maybe Tigerstar will be a great leader, just like the omen said,” Fireheart mewed.
The medicine cat met his gaze evenly. “It seems strange that ThunderClan got rid of a strong cat like that.”
Fireheart took a deep breath. Perhaps he should take this chance to tell Runningnose the truth about Tigerstar. “It’s a long story,” he began.
“No, Fireheart,” Runningnose interrupted. “I’m not asking you to betray your Clan’s secrets.” He edged closer to Fireheart, then scraped the ground with his paws and crouched down beside him. “Whatever happened in ThunderClan, I’m certain of one thing,” he mewed softly. “StarClan did send Tigerstar to us.”
“You mean the omen?”
“Actually, there’s something else.” Runningnose glanced sideways at Fireheart. “Our last leader was never accepted by StarClan,” he admitted. “When Nightstar became leader, StarClan did not grant him nine lives.”
“What?” Fireheart stared at the medicine cat in disbelief. If Nightstar had had only one li
fe, it explained why the sickness had claimed him so quickly. Fireheart found his voice again. “Why didn’t he get nine lives?”
“StarClan have not explained that to me,” meowed Runningnose. “I wondered if it was because Brokentail was still alive, and StarClan still recognized him as Clan leader. By the time we learned that Brokentail had died, Nightstar was too weak to make the journey to the Moonstone to receive his nine lives. And since Tigerstar came, I think maybe he was StarClan’s choice of leader for us all along. Nightstar was not the right cat.”
“Yet the Clan still accepted him as leader?” Fireheart asked.
“The Clan never knew that he had not been given his nine lives,” Runningnose confessed. “Nightstar was a noble cat, and loyal to his Clan. We decided to keep StarClan’s rejection a secret. What else could we do? There was no other cat fit to be leader. If we had told the truth, the Clan would have panicked.”
There was a kind of relief in Runningnose’s voice as he told the story. Fireheart guessed how relieved the medicine cat must have felt to be able to share the secret at last.
“The Clan cats thought the sickness was so bad it took all of Nightstar’s lives at once,” Runningnose continued. “They were scared—very scared. They had never been in greater need of a strong leader.”
So they accepted Tigerstar without question. Fireheart added what the medicine cat had not said. But there was no need for Runningnose to voice his doubts about his new leader. “Has Tigerstar said anything about attacking ThunderClan?” Fireheart asked hesitantly.
Runningnose let out a purr of amusement. “Do you really expect me to answer that? If he was planning anything, I’d be betraying my Clan if I told you. As far as I know, you haven’t anything to worry about, but whether you believe me or not is up to you.”
Fireheart discovered that he believed him—at least, he believed that Runningnose knew nothing about any plans that Tigerstar might be making. Whether the medicine cat was right was another question altogether.