by Erin Hunter
Then he remembered his previous dream, when he had searched for Spottedleaf in the dark and fearful forest and failed to find her.
“Oh, Spottedleaf, come to me now,” he murmured. “I need you. I have to know what StarClan wants me to do.”
Fireheart found himself standing on the border of WindClan territory and looked across the stretch of bare moorland. A stiff breeze rippled over the grass, blowing through his fur. The moor was bounded by an eerie light, hiding the horizon and the land behind Fireheart; he looked back, expecting to see the oaks of Fourtrees, though he could not remember traveling through the forest, but there was nothing there but the pale yellow glow. No cats were in sight.
“Spottedleaf?” he mewed uncertainly.
There was no reply, but he thought he caught a faint trace of the sweet scent that always announced her presence. He stiffened, raising his head and parting his jaws so that he could drink in the beloved smell.
“Spottedleaf!” he repeated. “Please come—I need you so much.”
A sudden warmth crept over him. A soft voice murmured, “I am here, Fireheart.” He sensed that Spottedleaf was somewhere behind him, and that if he turned his head, he would see her. But he could not move. It was as if cold jaws were gripping him, keeping his gaze fixed on the windswept moorland.
As he stood rigid, Fireheart gradually realized that Spottedleaf was not alone. Another scent wafted over him, painful in its familiarity.
“Yellowfang?” he whispered. “Is that you?”
A faint breath stirred his pelt, and he thought he could hear Yellowfang’s rusty purr. “Oh, Yellowfang!” he exclaimed. “I’ve missed you so much. Are you okay? Have you seen how well Cinderpelt is doing?”
The words spilled out of him in his joy at the reunion with his old friend, but there was no reply, though Fireheart thought the purring grew stronger.
Then Spottedleaf’s voice whispered softly into his ear, “I have brought you here for a reason, Fireheart. Look at this place; remember it. This is where a battle will not be fought, and blood will not be spilled.”
“Then tell me how to stop it,” Fireheart pleaded, knowing that she spoke of Bluestar’s planned raid on the WindClan camp.
But there was nothing more, only a gentle sigh that faded and became one with the wind. The paralysis that had gripped Fireheart released him, and he whipped around, but Spottedleaf and Yellowfang had vanished. He drank in the air, desperate for the last trace of their scent, but there was nothing.
“Spottedleaf!” he wailed. “Yellowfang! Don’t go!”
The light began to change, became the ordinary sunlight of a morning in leaf-fall, and instead of the moorland Fireheart saw above him a ragged pattern of branches against the sky, the fire-damaged covering of the warriors’ den. He lay on his side among the moss, panting.
“Fireheart?” An anxious voice came from just beside him and he turned his head to see Sandstorm. She licked the fur around his ear. “Are you all right?”
“Yes—yes, I’m fine.” Fireheart dragged himself into a sitting position and flicked his ears to shake off the clinging moss. “Just a dream, that’s all.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Sandstorm went on. “We didn’t see anything suspicious on the dawn patrol. Mousefur told me what happened at the Gathering. And the pile of fresh-kill is practically all gone. I thought we could go and hunt.”
“I can’t, not just now, Sandstorm. I’ve things to do. But if you could take a patrol out, that would be great.”
Sandstorm gazed at him, the sympathetic look in her eyes fading. “Well, okay, if you’re too busy.” She sounded offended, but Fireheart didn’t know how he could explain. “I’ll get Brindleface and Brackenfur to come.” She rose to her paws and stalked out without looking back at him.
Fireheart licked his paw and rubbed it over his face, clinging to the precious memory of his dream.
A battle will not be fought, and blood will not be spilled, he repeated to himself. Was Spottedleaf trying to tell him not to worry, that somehow StarClan would stop the fighting? Or did she mean that it was up to him to see that no blood was spilled?
Fireheart was tempted to leave it all in the paws of StarClan. What could he do, when his Clan leader had given him her orders? But if he obeyed Bluestar, wouldn’t he be going against the will of StarClan? And even more, against all his instincts of what was right for his Clan?
Fireheart made up his mind. Whatever he had to do, ThunderClan must not fight WindClan.
CHAPTER 12
Fireheart padded swiftly out of the camp, hoping no other cats would see him and ask him where he was going. The warrior code said that a Clan leader’s orders should be obeyed without question. Until now, Fireheart had always accepted that. He had never imagined that he would ever disobey Bluestar, and yet the time had come when he must challenge her orders or watch the destruction of his Clan. The only way he could see of avoiding the battle was for Tallstar and Bluestar to meet together and talk about the evidence of prey-theft in both their territories. Once Bluestar understood that WindClan was suffering in just the same way as ThunderClan, Fireheart was sure she would call off the attack.
He did not know what Bluestar would do to him afterward, if she realized that he had gone to see Tallstar without her permission. He just hoped she would eventually understand it was for the good of her Clan.
At the entrance to the gorse tunnel Fireheart took a last look around at the camp. For a moment he watched Brightpaw, practicing the hunting crouch all by herself outside the apprentice’s den. She crept lightly up on a dead leaf and pounced on it, trapping it with outstretched paws.
“Well done!” Fireheart called.
Brightpaw looked up, her eyes glowing. “Thank you, Fireheart!”
Fireheart nodded to her, then turned and headed through the gorse tunnel. The short meeting had strengthened his resolve, for the eager young apprentice represented all that was important within the Clan. Fireheart knew that he could not let that be destroyed.
By sunhigh, Fireheart was approaching the stream that lay on the route to Fourtrees. He stopped for a moment to rest. In his confusion and anxiety he had not taken time to eat before he left the camp, and a rustle in the undergrowth reminded him of how hungry he was. He dropped into the hunter’s crouch, only to realize a couple of heartbeats later that the sounds were not made by prey. He caught a glimpse of a familiar dark pelt, and breathed in the scent of ThunderClan cats.
Puzzled, Fireheart pressed himself to the ground behind a clump of fern. He hadn’t ordered a patrol in this direction, so why were his Clan cats here now? Then the undergrowth parted and Darkstripe emerged, mewing sharply over his shoulder, “Follow me. Try to keep up, can’t you?”
Two small shapes appeared out of the bracken. Fireheart’s eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Goldenflower’s two kits. Bramblekit bounced into the open, batting at a fallen leaf, while Tawnykit followed more slowly.
“I’m tired. My paws ache,” the little tabby kit complained.
“What, a strong kit like you?” Darkstripe meowed. “Don’t be silly. It’s not far now.”
What isn’t far? Fireheart wondered in alarm. What are you doing out here, and where are you taking these kits? He expected to see Goldenflower with them—surely her kits had never been this far from the nursery before?—but she did not appear.
Bramblekit scampered over to his sister and gave her a nudge. “Come on—it’ll be worth it!” he urged.
Both kits hurried after Darkstripe to a shallow place where they crossed the stream, squealing in fear and excitement as the water swirled around their paws. On the far side of the stream, Darkstripe veered away from the route that led to Fourtrees, and headed instead along a much narrower path that twisted away under the trees. A burst of outrage shook Fireheart. He knew exactly where that path led. Darkstripe was taking the kits toward the border with ShadowClan.
Fireheart had to wait for them to climb the slope beyond the stream b
efore he dared to emerge from the ferns and follow. By the time he caught up they were approaching the border. The strong reek of ShadowClan reached Fireheart, and he saw the kits stop and start sniffing the air.
“Yuck, what’s that?” Tawnykit squealed.
“Is it a fox?” asked Bramblekit.
“No, it’s ShadowClan scent,” Darkstripe replied. “Come on, we’re nearly there.” He led the kits across the border, Tawnykit complaining that she was getting the horrid scent all over her paws.
Growing angrier still, Fireheart slid into the shelter of a hawthorn bush just on the ThunderClan side, where he could watch without being seen.
Close by, Darkstripe had come to a halt. The kits flopped down on the grass, exhausted, only to spring to their paws again a moment later when a clump of bracken rustled and another cat stepped into the open.
The newcomer was Tigerstar. Fireheart froze, though he was hardly surprised. He had guessed that Darkstripe had been hoping to curry favor with Tigerstar by bringing his kits to see him, but the ShadowClan leader’s prompt appearance suggested that this meeting had been arranged all along.
Fireheart wondered if Goldenflower knew about this. She was not here with her kits, so perhaps she didn’t even know that Darkstripe had taken them away. She might just think they had gone missing. She must be frantic, Fireheart thought. He tensed his muscles, ready to leap out and confront Darkstripe, but he stayed in his hiding place and made himself concentrate on what was happening in front of him.
Tigerstar padded forward, the muscles rippling under his dark tabby pelt, until he stood in front of his two kits. For a moment he inspected them, and then bent his head to touch noses, first with Bramblekit and then with Tawnykit. Even though they could never have seen such a massive cat before, both kits stood bravely before him and met his gaze without flinching.
“Do you know who I am?” meowed Tigerstar.
“Darkstripe said he would take us to meet our father,” replied Bramblekit.
“Are you our father?” Tawnykit added. “You smell a bit like us.”
Tigerstar nodded. “I am.”
The kits exchanged a wondering glance as Darkstripe mewed, “This is Tigerstar, the leader of ShadowClan.”
Their eyes grew huge, and Bramblekit breathed, “Wow! You’re really a Clan leader?”
When Tigerstar dipped his head in agreement, Tawnykit mewed excitedly, “Why can’t we come and live with you in your Clan? You must have a really nice den.”
Tigerstar shook his head. “Your place is with your mother for now,” he told them. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of you. They seem fine, strong kits,” he meowed to Darkstripe. “When will they be apprenticed?”
“In a moon or so,” Darkstripe replied. “It’s a pity I have an apprentice already, or I could mentor one of them myself.”
Fireheart’s claws dug into the ground as a jolt of anger shot through him. Bluestar and I decide who the mentors will be, not you, Darkstripe! He almost hissed the words aloud. And you’re the last cat we would choose, he added silently.
Tigerstar turned his gaze back to his kits. “Can you hunt?” he asked them. “Can you fight? Do you want to be good warriors?”
Both the kits nodded vigorously. “I’m going to be the best warrior in the Clan!” Bramblekit boasted.
Tawnykit refused to be outdone. “And I’ll be the best hunter!”
“Good, good.” Tigerstar gave each kit a quick lick on the head.
Fireheart couldn’t help remembering Graystripe, and how his friend had left the Clan of his birth so that he could stay with the kits he loved. Was it possible that Tigerstar was suffering just as much at being parted from Bramblekit and Tawnykit?
Then Fireheart’s blood ran cold as Bramblekit asked, “Please, Tigerstar, why are you the leader of ShadowClan when our mother is a ThunderClan cat?”
“They don’t know?” Tigerstar asked Darkstripe. The warrior shook his head. “Well, then,” Tigerstar meowed, turning back to the kits, “That’s a long story. Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
Fireheart realized this was the moment when he had to interrupt. The last thing he wanted was for Tigerstar to tell the kits a biased account of how he came to leave ThunderClan. One thing was certain: Tigerstar would never admit that he had been a murderer and a traitor.
Rising to his paws, Fireheart stepped out of the shelter of the hawthorn bush. “Good day, Tigerstar,” he meowed. “You’re a long way from your camp. And so are you, Darkstripe.” His tone sharpened. “What are you doing here with these kits?”
As he padded up to join them, he had the satisfaction of realizing that both Tigerstar and Darkstripe were dumb-founded by his appearance. For a heartbeat they both gaped at him, while the kits bounced across the grass to meet him.
“This is our father!” Tawnykit announced excitedly. “We came all the way from camp to see him.”
“Why did no cat tell us he was the leader of a Clan?” Bramblekit piped up.
Fireheart did not want to answer that question. Instead he confronted Darkstripe with his eyes narrowed. “Well?”
“How did you know we were here?” Darkstripe blustered.
“I saw you crossing the stream. You were making enough racket to wake the whole forest.”
“Fireheart.” Tigerstar dipped his head, the courteous greeting of a leader to the deputy of another Clan. There was no hostility in his tone. “Blame me, not Darkstripe. I wanted to see my kits. You wouldn’t deny me that, surely?”
“That’s all very well,” Fireheart replied in confusion. “But Darkstripe shouldn’t have taken them without permission. It’s dangerous to let kits wander so far away from their camp.” Especially with that dog loose in the forest, he added to himself.
“They’re not wandering—they’re with me,” Darkstripe pointed out.
“What if a hawk attacked? There’s still little cover in some parts of the forest. Have you forgotten Snowkit?” One of the kits let out a whimper and Fireheart stopped; he didn’t want to frighten them. “Take them back to camp, Darkstripe. Now.”
Darkstripe exchanged a glance with Tigerstar and shrugged. To the kits, he meowed, “Come on. Fireheart has spoken, and we must obey.”
The two kits backed away from their father and followed Darkstripe as he set off back to the camp.
“Say good-bye to your father before you go,” Fireheart meowed, forcing himself to speak in a friendly tone. “You’ll see him again when you’re apprentices and can go to Gatherings.”
Both kits turned to mew good-bye.
“Good-bye,” Tigerstar replied. “Work hard, and I shall be proud of you.”
He and Fireheart stood side by side as Darkstripe led the kits back down the slope and across the stream. When they had disappeared into the undergrowth, Tigerstar meowed, “Take care of those kits, Fireheart. I’ll be keeping an eye on them.”
Fireheart’s heart was pounding. When he had exposed the former deputy’s treachery, Tigerstar had threatened to kill him. Now they were alone once more, with no help nearby for Fireheart if the ShadowClan leader attacked. Fireheart’s muscles tensed, but Tigerstar made no move toward him.
“I’ll see they’re looked after,” Fireheart meowed at last. “I’m sure they will be loyal to their Clan. ThunderClan takes care of all its kits.”
“Really?” Tigerstar narrowed his amber eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Tigerstar knew about the two kits who had been taken to Graypool, Fireheart remembered with a jolt. He waited for the ShadowClan leader to challenge him about them. But Tigerstar did not question him, though his knowing expression chilled Fireheart. It was as though he were well aware that Fireheart could tell him more.
Instead Tigerstar dipped his head again and mewed, “We shall meet at the next Gathering. I must return to my Clan now.” Then he turned and padded away.
Fireheart made sure the ShadowClan leader had really gone before he turned away too, following the border toward Fourtrees.
Much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t see that Darkstripe had done any real harm by taking the kits out of the nursery. Fireheart would have had to tell them eventually that their father was the leader of ShadowClan. And Tigerstar himself had behaved with more restraint than Fireheart would have believed possible.
Firmly he put the episode out of his mind. Time was running out. Before sunset, Fireheart knew, he must speak with Tallstar and find another way to solve the dispute over the stolen prey.
CHAPTER 13
Fireheart darted from one clump of gorse to the next as he crossed the moor toward the WindClan camp. He ran with his belly brushing the turf, trying to stay out of sight and longing for the thick undergrowth of his own territory. The last time he had visited the camp, when ThunderClan helped WindClan in a battle against the other two Clans, there had been no need to hide. Now he dared not show himself until he reached Tallstar, or at least met with one of the cats he could call his friends—if any of them were still friendly, after the recent disastrous Gathering. WindClan patrols had attacked him on their territory before; they would be even more hostile now.
The scent of WindClan was all around him, but so far he hadn’t seen any cats. The sun had nearly finished crossing the sky. Fireheart tried not to think about that. He came close to panic when he remembered how little time was left before Bluestar would launch her attack.
He was crossing one of the shallow moorland streams, bounding from rock to rock, when a stronger scent of WindClan cats flooded over him, along with the scent of rabbit. Fireheart’s belly growled in complaint, but he had to ignore it. There was no way he could take WindClan’s prey now—and it smelled as if there was a hunting patrol not far behind anyway. Diving into a clump of bracken at the water’s edge, he peered out cautiously to spot the source of the scent.
Three cats were making their way upstream toward him. At the front of the patrol was his old friend Onewhisker, and Fireheart’s heart lifted. Gorsepaw was with his mentor; they were both carrying rabbits. But to Fireheart’s dismay, the third cat was Mudclaw, the dark, mottled warrior who had stopped Bluestar when she tried to cross WindClan territory to get to Highstones. This cat would never allow Fireheart to bring his message to Tallstar.