by Erin Hunter
Fireheart nodded. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began, raising his voice, “we’ve just seen something terrible. No cat can deny that. But we have to be careful about what meaning we give to this tragedy. Cinderpelt, is Bluestar right? Does this mean that StarClan have abandoned us?”
Cinderpelt spoke up clearly from where she sat at the base of the rock. “No,” she meowed. “StarClan haven’t shown me anything to suggest this. The camp is more exposed since the fire, so it’s not surprising that the hawk could see its prey.”
“So it was just an accident that we lost Snowkit?” Fireheart prompted.
“Just an accident,” Cinderpelt repeated. “Nothing to do with StarClan.”
Fireheart saw the Clan begin to relax and realized that Cinderpelt’s certainty had reassured them. The cats still looked shocked and grief-stricken that Snowkit had been snatched away, but the wild stares of panic were fading.
But along with his relief came the worry that once the Clan had recovered from their shock, they would start asking themselves why Bluestar had gone so far as to declare war on their warrior ancestors in StarClan. “Thank you, Cinderpelt,” Fireheart meowed.
Cinderpelt flicked her tail and limped quickly toward her den.
Fireheart took a step forward on top of the rock and gazed down at the upturned faces. “There’s something else I need to tell you,” he began. He wasn’t at all sure he should be saying this, since Bluestar insisted that WindClan was responsible for the dead rabbits, but with the safety of the Clan at stake he couldn’t keep silent. “We think there’s a loose dog on ThunderClan territory. We haven’t seen it, but we’ve scented it at Snakerocks and near Fourtrees.”
An anxious murmur rose from the cats, and Sandstorm called out, “What about the dogs at the farm beyond WindClan territory? Maybe it’s one of those.”
“Maybe,” Fireheart agreed, remembering how the savage creatures had chased him and Sandstorm while they were searching for Cloudpaw. “Until it goes away again,” he went on, “we all have to be especially careful. Apprentices mustn’t go out without a warrior. And all cats who leave camp have an extra duty. Look for traces of this dog—scent, pawmarks, scattered scraps of prey….”
“And dung,” Mousefur put in. “The filthy creatures never think of burying it.”
“Right,” meowed Fireheart. “If you come across anything like that, report it to me right away. We need to find out where the dog has made its den.”
As he gave his orders he did his best to hide his growing sense of dread. He could not stifle the feeling that the forest was watching him, concealing a deadly enemy somewhere among the trees. At least the threat from Tigerstar was a straightforward fear of attack from a known enemy. This hidden dog was another matter, unseen and unpredictable.
Dismissing the Clan, Fireheart leaped down from the Highrock and made his way toward Cinderpelt’s den. On the way, he spotted Brackenfur limping back into the camp with Swiftpaw just behind him. The ginger warrior’s fur was torn where he had forced his way through briers and undergrowth in his pursuit of the hawk. One look at his lowered head and dejected expression told Fireheart all he needed to know, but he waited for Brackenfur to come up and make his report.
“I’m sorry, Fireheart. We tried to keep up, but we lost it.”
“You did your best,” Fireheart replied, pressing his head against the younger warrior’s shoulder. “There was never much hope.”
“A waste of time and effort right from the start,” Swiftpaw growled, though his eyes betrayed his frustration at their failure to save the kit.
“Where’s Speckletail?” asked Brackenfur.
“With Cinderpelt. I’m just going to check on her. You two help yourself to fresh-kill and then get some rest.”
He waited to see that the two cats obeyed his order before continuing to Cinderpelt’s den. Sandstorm fell into step beside him. When they reached the clearing outside the medicine cat’s den, they found Speckletail lying there with Brindleface crouched beside her, licking her gently.
Cinderpelt emerged from the cleft in the rock carrying a folded leaf in her mouth, which she set down on the ground in front of Speckletail. “Poppy seeds,” she mewed. “Eat them, Speckletail, and they’ll make you sleep.”
At first Fireheart thought Speckletail had not heard her; then she half sat up, turned her head, and slowly licked up the poppy seeds from the leaf.
“I’ll never have any more kits,” she mewed, her voice hoarse. “I’ll be going to join the elders now.”
“And they’ll welcome you,” Sandstorm murmured, crouching beside the older cat as the poppy seeds took effect and her head gradually lowered into sleep. Fireheart glanced admiringly at Sandstorm; she was a skilled warrior, and he had reason to know the sharpness of her tongue, but she had a gentle side too.
He was roused from his thoughts when he heard Cinderpelt clearing her throat, and he saw that the medicine cat had padded over to sit beside him. From the look she was giving him he realized that she must have spoken to him and was waiting for a response.
“Sorry—what?” he mewed.
“If you’re not too busy to listen,” Cinderpelt meowed dryly, “I said that I’ll keep Speckletail with me overnight.”
“Good idea, thanks.” Fireheart remembered that Cinderpelt had been with Speckletail when he had been telling the Clan about the loose dog. “There’s something else you need to know, and I’d like you to have another look at Bluestar.”
“Oh? What’s the matter with her?”
Speaking softly so that Sandstorm did not hear him, Fireheart told Cinderpelt about the evidence that a dog was loose in the forest, and how Bluestar was convinced that it must be WindClan invading ThunderClan territory to steal prey. “She’s so confused,” he finished. “She must be, to declare war on StarClan like that. And there’s a Gathering in a few nights. What’s going to happen if she starts accusing WindClan in front of the other cats?”
“Now wait a minute,” Cinderpelt meowed. “This is your Clan leader you’re talking about. You should respect her opinions even if you don’t agree with them.”
“This isn’t just a disagreement!” Fireheart protested. “There isn’t a scrap of proof for what she suggests.” His raised voice made Sandstorm prick up her ears as she lay beside Speckletail, and he lowered it again as he added, “Bluestar was a great leader. Every cat knows that. But now…I can’t trust her judgment, Cinderpelt. Not when she isn’t making any sense.”
“You should still try to understand her. Show her a bit of sympathy, at least. She deserves that from every cat.”
For a few heartbeats Fireheart felt outrage that Cinderpelt, who had once been his apprentice, should be talking to him like this. It wasn’t Cinderpelt who had to defend Bluestar’s decisions and try to hide her confusion so that her own Clan still trusted her. Not to mention making excuses for her to all the other Clans so that no cat would guess the weakness at ThunderClan’s heart.
“Do you think I haven’t tried?” he snapped. “If I’m any more sympathetic, my fur will fall out!”
“Your fur looks fine to me,” Cinderpelt remarked.
“Look…” Fireheart made one last effort to suppress his annoyance. “Bluestar missed the last Gathering. If she doesn’t go to the next one, every cat in the forest will know something’s wrong. Can’t you give her something to make her a bit more reasonable?”
“I’ll try. But there’s a limit to what my herbs can do. She’s gotten over the effects of the fire, you know. This trouble started long before that, when she first found out about Tigerstar. She’s old and tired, and she thinks she’s losing everything she believed in, even StarClan.”
“Especially StarClan,” Fireheart agreed. “And if she—”
He broke off, realizing that Sandstorm had left Speckletail and was walking toward him. “Finished talking secrets?” she mewed with an edge to her voice. Flicking her tail toward Speckletail, she added, “She’s asleep. I’ll leave her to you, Cinderp
elt.”
“Thanks for your help, Sandstorm.”
Both she-cats were being very polite to each other, but somehow Fireheart felt it wouldn’t take much for them to unsheathe their claws. He wondered why, then decided he didn’t have time to worry about petty squabbles.
“We’ll go and eat, then,” he meowed.
“And afterward you need to rest,” Sandstorm told him. “You’ve been on your paws since dawn.”
She gave him a nudge, propelling him toward the main clearing. Before he had taken more than a couple of paces, Cinderpelt called after him, “Send some fresh-kill for me and Speckletail. If you’ve got time, that is.”
“Of course I’ve got time.” Fireheart felt completely baffled by the tension that had chilled the air. “I’ll see to it right away.”
“Good.” Cinderpelt gave him a curt nod, and Fireheart felt her blue gaze trained on his back all the way across the clearing.
CHAPTER 10
The stars of Silverpelt blazed from a clear sky, and the full moon rode high. Fireheart crouched at the top of the hollow leading down to Fourtrees. Beneath the four great oaks, the ground was carpeted with fallen leaves, glittering in the first frost of leaf-fall. Black shapes of cats moved to and fro against the pale shimmer.
This time Bluestar had insisted on leading her Clan to the Gathering. Fireheart couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not. True, now he didn’t have to invent excuses for her, but he was also worried about what she might say. As ThunderClan’s problems piled up, it was becoming more and more difficult to present a strong face to their rival Clans, and his apprehension bit deeper when he admitted to himself that he could no longer trust his leader’s judgment.
He edged toward her, out of earshot of Cloudpaw and Mousefur, who were beside him. “Bluestar,” he murmured. “What will you—”
As if she hadn’t heard him, Bluestar signaled with her tail and the ThunderClan cats sprang to their paws and raced down through the bushes into the hollow. Fireheart had no option but to follow. Before they left the camp, Bluestar had refused to talk about the coming Gathering, and now his last chance to discuss it with her had gone.
Down in the hollow there were fewer cats than Fireheart had expected, and he realized they were all from WindClan and ShadowClan. He spotted Tallstar and Tigerstar seated side by side at the base of the Great Rock. Bluestar walked straight past them, her tail as stiff as if she were advancing on an enemy. Without acknowledging them with so much as the flick of a whisker, she leaped up to the Great Rock and sat there, her gray-blue fur glowing in the moonlight.
Fireheart took a deep breath and tried to calm the fears that welled inside him. Bluestar had already convinced herself that Tallstar was her enemy; to see the WindClan leader talking privately with Tigerstar, the traitor Bluestar feared most, would make her surer that she was right.
As he watched, Fireheart saw Tallstar lean over to Tigerstar and meow something; Tigerstar flicked his tail dismissively. Fireheart wondered if he should creep closer to listen to what they were saying, but before he could move he felt a friendly nudge at his shoulder and looked around to see Onewhisker, a warrior of WindClan.
“Hi, there,” Onewhisker meowed. “Do you remember who this is?”
He pushed a young cat forward, a tabby with bright eyes and ears pricked with excitement. “This is Morningflower’s kit,” Onewhisker explained. “He’s my apprentice now—Gorsepaw. Isn’t he big now?”
“Morningflower’s kit, of course! I saw you at the last Gathering.” Fireheart still found it hard to believe that this well-muscled apprentice was the same scrap of fur whom he had carried across the Thunderpath when he and Graystripe brought WindClan home.
“Mother told me about you, Fireheart,” Gorsepaw mewed shyly. “How you carried me, and everything.”
“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to carry you now,” Fireheart replied. “If you grow much more, you’ll be able to join LionClan!”
Gorsepaw purred happily. Fireheart was sharply aware of the warm friendship that he felt for these cats, which had survived all the skirmishing and disagreements since that long-ago journey.
“We should be starting the meeting,” Onewhisker went on. “But there’s no sign of RiverClan.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when there was a stir among the bushes at the other side of the clearing. A group of RiverClan cats appeared, padding close together into the open. Stalking proudly at their head was Leopardfur.
“Where’s Crookedstar?” Onewhisker wondered out loud.
“I heard he’s ill,” Fireheart meowed, realizing that he wasn’t surprised to see Leopardfur taking her leader’s place. From what Graystripe had told him by the river half a moon ago, he hadn’t expected the RiverClan leader to be well enough to attend a Gathering.
Leopardfur walked straight toward the base of the Great Rock, where Tallstar and Tigerstar were sitting. She dipped her head courteously and settled down beside them.
Fireheart was too far away to hear what they were saying, and he was distracted a moment later as a familiar gray warrior bounded across the clearing to his side.
“Graystripe!” Fireheart gave a welcoming mew. “I thought you weren’t allowed to come to Gatherings.”
“I wasn’t,” replied Graystripe, touching noses with his friend. “But Stonefur said I should have a chance to prove my loyalty.”
“Stonefur?” Fireheart echoed. He had noticed both of Bluestar’s kits, Stonefur and his sister, Mistyfoot, among the cats who followed Leopardfur. “What’s it got to do with him?”
“Stonefur’s our new deputy,” meowed Graystripe. He frowned. “Oh, of course, you don’t know. Crookedstar died two nights ago. Leopardstar is our leader now.”
Fireheart was silent for a moment, remembering the dignified old cat who had helped ThunderClan during the fire. The news of Crookedstar’s death didn’t surprise him, but it still brought a pang of anxiety. Leopardstar would be a strong leader, good for RiverClan, but she had no love for ThunderClan.
“She’s already started to reorganize the Clan, even though it’s barely a day since she went to the Moonstone to speak with StarClan,” Graystripe went on, pulling a face. “Supervising the apprentice training, ordering more patrols. And—” He broke off, his paws working on the ground in front of him.
“Graystripe!” Fireheart was alarmed at his friend’s clear agitation. “What’s the matter?”
Graystripe lifted anguished yellow eyes to gaze at his friend. “There’s something you ought to know, Fireheart.” He took a quick glance around to make sure no RiverClan cats were within earshot. “Ever since the fire, Leopardfur has been planning how to get Sunningrocks back.”
“I…I don’t think you should be telling me that,” Fireheart stammered, staring at his friend in dismay. Sunningrocks was a long-disputed territory on the border between ThunderClan and RiverClan. Oakheart and the former ThunderClan deputy, Redtail, had both died in battle over them. For Graystripe to tell Fireheart of his new leader’s intentions was an act of betrayal that went completely against the warrior code.
“I know, Fireheart.” Graystripe couldn’t meet his gaze, and his voice shook with the weight of what he was doing. “I have tried to be a loyal warrior of RiverClan—no cat could have tried harder!” His voice was rising in desperation, but with a huge effort he managed to control himself and go on in a lower voice. “But I can’t sit by and do nothing while Leopardstar plans to attack ThunderClan. If it comes to a battle, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Fireheart moved closer, trying to comfort the gray warrior. He had always known, ever since Graystripe had crossed the river, that sooner or later his friend would have to face the ordeal of fighting against his birth Clan. Now it seemed as if that day had suddenly drawn closer.
“When is this attack going to happen?” he asked.
Graystripe shook his head. “I’ve no idea. Even if Leopardstar has decided, she wouldn’t tell me. I only know about the
plan from what the other warriors have said. But I’ll see what I can find out, if you like.”
For a moment Fireheart was excited by the thought of having a spy in the RiverClan camp. Then he realized what a fearful risk Graystripe would be taking. He couldn’t put his friend in that much danger, or add to the pain of his divided loyalties. Unless ThunderClan struck first, without waiting for Leopardstar to attack—which Fireheart didn’t want to do—they would just have to deal with the threat when it arose.
“No, it’s too dangerous,” Fireheart replied. “I’m grateful for the warning, but think what Leopardstar would do to you if she found out. She doesn’t exactly like you as it is. I’ll tell all the hunting patrols to keep checking Sunningrocks for RiverClan scent, and make sure our scent markings are strong there.”
Yowling from the top of the Great Rock interrupted him. He turned to see that the other three leaders had joined Bluestar, who still refused to look at Tigerstar, and were waiting to begin the meeting. When the cats had fallen silent, Tigerstar nodded to Leopardstar, indicating that she should speak first. The golden tabby took a place at the front of the rock and looked down.
“Our former leader, Crookedstar, has gone to join StarClan,” she announced. “He was a noble leader and all his Clan mourns his passing. I am leader of RiverClan now, and Stonefur is my deputy. Last night I traveled to Highstones and received my nine lives from StarClan.”
“Congratulations,” meowed Tigerstar, while Tallstar mewed, “Crookedstar will be missed by all the Clans. But may StarClan grant that RiverClan thrives under your leadership.”
Leopardstar thanked them and looked expectantly at Bluestar, but the ThunderClan leader was gazing down into the hollow. There was an expression of pride on her face, and when Fireheart followed her gaze he saw that she was looking at Stonefur. The obvious admiration for her son shocked him, and his heart grew cold when he remembered that Tigerstar knew a pair of ThunderClan kits had once been taken in by RiverClan. Fireheart couldn’t help noticing that Tigerstar’s gaze was trained on Bluestar, and the massive tabby had a thoughtful look on his face. What would it take for him to guess who the mother of those kits had been?