by Erin Hunter
Dustpaw looked at Sandpaw expectantly. Fireheart guessed he was waiting for her to agree with him, like she used to, but Sandpaw wasn’t listening. Fireheart felt a small prickle of satisfaction at the irritated look on Dustpaw’s face as she meowed breathlessly, “We found out that the river’s frozen. I think Bluestar’s planning a raid on RiverClan!”
At that moment their leader’s call sounded from the Highrock, and the Clan began to gather in the clearing. The sun had reached its high point, which in leaf-bare meant that it was barely above the treetops.
“Sandpaw and Fireheart have brought good news. The river is frozen over,” Bluestar announced. “We will take this opportunity to make a raid on RiverClan’s hunting grounds, to send the message that they must stop stealing our prey. Our warriors will track down one of their patrols and give them a warning that they’ll remember for a long time!”
Fireheart winced as he remembered what Silverstream had told him about her starving Clan. Around him, the other cats raised their voices in eager yowls. Fireheart had not heard the Clan this excited for many moons.
“Tigerclaw!” Bluestar called above the din. “Are our warriors fit enough for a raid on RiverClan?”
Tigerclaw nodded.
“Excellent.” Bluestar lifted her tail. “Then we shall leave at sunset.” The Clan yowled with delight. Fireheart’s paws prickled. Was Bluestar going too? Surely she wouldn’t risk her last life on a border raid?
Fireheart looked over his shoulder at Graystripe. He was staring up at the Highrock, the tip of his tail twitching nervously. As the yowls died away, Graystripe called out, “It feels warmer today. A thaw would make the ice too dangerous to cross.”
Fireheart held his breath as the other cats turned to look curiously at Graystripe.
Tigerclaw stared down at Graystripe, his amber eyes puzzled. “You’re not usually reluctant to fight,” the dark warrior meowed slowly.
Darkstripe craned his neck and added, “Yes, Graystripe—you’re not afraid of those RiverClan fleabags, are you?”
Graystripe fidgeted uncomfortably as the Clan waited for an answer.
“Looks like he’s scared!” hissed Dustpaw from Sandpaw’s side.
Fireheart’s tail flicked angrily, but he managed to keep his voice light as he called, “Yes, of getting his paws wet! Graystripe’s fallen through the ice once this leaf-bare; he’s not keen to do it again.”
The tension in the Clan dissolved into amused purrs. Graystripe looked down at the ground, his ears flat. Only Tigerclaw kept his suspicious frown.
Bluestar waited until the murmurings had died away. “I must discuss the raid with my senior warriors.” She leaped down from the Highrock, landing so lightly that it was hard to believe that she had been fighting for her lives just days ago. Tigerclaw, Whitestorm, and Willowpelt followed her to her den, and the rest of the Clan broke away into groups to discuss the proposed attack.
“I suppose you expect me to thank you for embarrassing me!” Fireheart heard Graystripe’s angry hiss in his ear.
“Not at all,” he snapped. “But you could at least be grateful I’m still covering up for you!” He bounded away to the edge of the clearing, his fur bristling with fury.
Sandpaw ran over to join him. “It’s about time we showed those RiverClan cats that they can’t hunt in our territory whenever they like,” she meowed, her eyes shining.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Fireheart answered absently. He couldn’t take his eyes off Graystripe. Was he imagining it, or was the gray warrior edging farther and farther toward the nursery? Was Graystripe planning on slipping away to warn Silverstream?
Fireheart got slowly to his paws and began to pad toward the nursery. Graystripe glared at Fireheart as he approached, but before either warrior could speak, Bluestar’s call sounded once more from the Highrock. Fireheart stopped where he was but didn’t take his eyes off Graystripe.
“Willowpelt agrees with young Graystripe,” Bluestar declared. “A thaw is on the way.” Graystripe lifted his chin and flashed a defiant look at Fireheart, but Fireheart didn’t care. Bluestar was going to call off the raid! Now Graystripe wouldn’t have to choose between his Clan and Silverstream, and Fireheart wouldn’t have to join a raiding party against a Clan he knew was already suffering.
But Bluestar hadn’t finished. “So we will attack at once!”
Fireheart glanced sideways—Graystripe’s look of triumph had turned to one of sheer horror.
Bluestar continued, “We will leave a patrol of warriors here to guard the camp. We have to remember the possible threat from ShadowClan. Five warriors will make the raid. I will remain here.”
Good, thought Fireheart. She wasn’t planning to risk her final life after all. “Tigerclaw will lead the raiding party. Darkstripe, Willowpelt, and Longtail will go with him. That leaves one more place.”
“Can I go?” Fireheart burst out. Even though his heart felt heavy at the thought of attacking hungry RiverClan cats, it meant that Graystripe wouldn’t have to make a choice.
“Thank you, Fireheart. You may join the patrol.” Bluestar was clearly pleased by her former apprentice’s eagerness. Tigerclaw didn’t look so happy. He narrowed his eyes at Fireheart, gazing at him with undisguised suspicion. “There’s no time to lose,” Bluestar yowled. “I can smell the warm winds myself. Tigerclaw will brief you as you travel. Go now!”
Darkstripe, Longtail, and Willowpelt sped after Tigerclaw. Fireheart followed them as they thundered through the gorse tunnel and headed up the ravine, toward RiverClan territory.
They charged past Sunningrocks and reached the enemy border as the low leaf-bare sun began to dip toward the forest. Fireheart sniffed the air—Graystripe and Willowpelt had been right; he could smell warmer winds, and rain clouds were already pushing in over the treetops.
As they raced down the slope toward the river, Fireheart felt a deep sense of disquiet. Silverstream’s desperate story rang in his ears, and he fought to push away his feelings of sympathy.
The ThunderClan warriors emerged from the bracken and skidded to a stop at the edge of the river. The sight that greeted them made Fireheart weak with relief. The shining sheet of ice that Fireheart had seen earlier with Sandpaw had broken up into a rushing flow of cold, black water.
CHAPTER 20
Tigerclaw turned to his warriors, his pale eyes flashing with frustration. “We’ll have to wait,” he snarled.
The patrol turned and began to trudge home. Fireheart sent up a wordless prayer of thanks to StarClan, but there was a bitter taste in his throat. Now he would never know if he could have gone through with the raid. It wasn’t only Graystripe he didn’t trust; he didn’t even trust himself.
Fireheart kept silent all the way home. Every now and then he saw Tigerclaw flash a glance at him over his massive brown shoulder. It was a slow journey. The light of the short leaf-bare day was fading when they finally reached the top of the ravine. Fireheart waited for the other warriors to pick their way down first. By the time he padded through the gorse tunnel, Tigerclaw was already explaining to the disappointed Clan that the river had thawed.
Fireheart skirted the edge of the clearing, looking for Graystripe. He needed to know if his friend had slipped out of the camp. Instinctively he headed for the nursery. As he approached the tangled mass of brambles, he heard a familiar meow. “Fireheart!”
Fireheart felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps Graystripe was actually grateful he had offered to take the final place in the raiding party? He followed his friend’s voice into the shadows behind the nursery.
Fireheart mewed quietly into the gloom, but he couldn’t see Graystripe anywhere. Suddenly something crashed into his side with a mighty thump. Fireheart spun around, all his senses alert. He saw Graystripe with his hackles raised, silhouetted in the dimness.
Graystripe lunged again. Fireheart ducked just in time as Graystripe swung a wide gray paw at his ear.
“What are you doing?” Fireheart spluttered.
Gr
aystripe flattened his ears and hissed, “You didn’t trust me! You thought I would betray ThunderClan!” He aimed another swipe. This one caught the tip of Fireheart’s ear.
Pain and fury shot through him. “I just wanted to save you from having to make a choice!” he spat. “Although it’s true that I’m not sure where your loyalties lie right now.”
Graystripe flew at him and knocked him backward. The two cats tussled, claws unsheathed. “I make my own choices,” Graystripe snarled.
Fireheart struggled free and leaped onto Graystripe’s back. “I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting!”
Blinded by anger, Fireheart dug his claws into Graystripe’s pelt, but Graystripe flipped Fireheart over and together they rolled out from behind the nursery.
The cats in the clearing sprang out of the way as the two young warriors bundled into them. Fireheart yowled with rage as Graystripe bit his foreleg. He thrust upward with a claw and raked Graystripe above his eye. Graystripe retaliated by lunging downward and sinking his teeth into Fireheart’s hind leg.
“Stop this at once!” Bluestar’s stern yowl made Fireheart and Graystripe freeze. Fireheart released his grip on Graystripe and shuffled painfully sideways. Graystripe backed away, his fur bristling. Out of the corner of his eye, Fireheart saw Tigerclaw sneering with barely suppressed delight, curling his lip back to reveal his teeth.
“Fireheart, I want to see you in my den—now!” Bluestar growled, her blue eyes flashing fire. “Graystripe, go to your nest and stay there!”
The rest of the Clan melted away into the shadows. Fireheart limped after Bluestar to her den. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, feeling worn out and confused.
Bluestar sat down on the sandy floor and stared at Fireheart in disbelief for a moment. Then she meowed angrily, “What was that all about?”
Fireheart shook his head. As furious as he was, he could not reveal his friend’s secret.
Bluestar closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I realize feelings are running high in the camp right now, but I never expected to see you and Graystripe fighting. Are you hurt?”
Fireheart could feel his ear and hind leg stinging, but he shrugged and murmured, “No.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
Fireheart met her gaze as steadily as she could. “Bluestar, I’m sorry. I can’t explain.” At least that much is true, he thought.
“Very well,” meowed Bluestar at last. “You two can sort it out on your own. The Clan is facing a difficult time, and I won’t tolerate this sort of infighting. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Bluestar,” Fireheart answered. “May I go?”
Bluestar nodded and Fireheart turned and slunk out of her den. He knew he had let his old mentor down. But there was no way he could confide in her. Last time he’d done that, about Ravenpaw’s accusation against Tigerclaw, she hadn’t believed him. And if she believed him this time, he would be betraying his best friend.
Feeling sick with worry, Fireheart crept across the clearing and slipped inside the warriors’ den. He settled into his nest beside Graystripe and curled himself into a tight ball. He lay there, unmoving, aware of Graystripe’s tense body beside his, until sleep finally overcame him.
Fireheart awoke early the next morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet and the clearing was empty as he padded across to Yellowfang’s den. He wanted to see Cinderpaw.
Yellowfang was asleep, curled up beside Brindleface’s sick kits. They squirmed quietly in their nest, their eyes closed. Yellowfang was snoring loudly. Fireheart didn’t want to wake her, so he crept over to Cinderpaw’s nest and peered in.
The little gray cat was asleep too. The blood had been washed from her fur. Fireheart wondered whether she had cleaned it herself or whether Yellowfang had washed it off. Fireheart crouched beside Cinderpaw and watched her breathe. There was something calming about the way her sides rose and fell. She seemed much more peaceful than when he last visited.
He stayed with her until the dawn light filtered through the ferns and he heard the Clan begin to stir. Fireheart got to his paws. He leaned into Cinderpaw’s nest and touched her side softly with his nose.
As he turned to leave, Yellowfang stretched and opened her eyes. “Fireheart?”
“I came to see Cinderpaw,” he whispered.
“She’s doing well,” meowed Yellowfang, pushing herself up.
Fireheart’s eyes clouded with relief. “Thank you, Yellowfang.”
When he reached the clearing, Tigerclaw was addressing a group of warriors and apprentices. He spotted Fireheart straightaway. “Nice of you to show up,” he growled. “Graystripe’s just joined us, too. He’s been having a word with Bluestar.” Fireheart glanced at his friend, but Graystripe was staring at the ground. The other warriors watched in silence as Fireheart hurried over and sat down beside Sandpaw.
“During this thaw, the woods will be alive with prey,” Tigerclaw meowed. “They’ll be hungry after sheltering in their burrows. This will be a good chance to catch as much as we can.”
“But there’s still fresh-kill in the snow store,” Dustpaw mewed.
“It’ll be crowfood soon,” Tigerclaw told him. “We need to take every opportunity to hunt. As leaf-bare goes on, the prey will start to disappear, and what stays around will be too thin.” The warriors nodded in agreement.
“Longtail”—Tigerclaw turned his eyes on the pale tabby warrior—“I want you to organize the hunting parties.” Longtail nodded, and Tigerclaw got up and padded toward Bluestar’s den. As Fireheart watched him disappear through the lichen, he couldn’t help wondering if the leader and deputy would discuss his fight with Graystripe.
Longtail’s voice summoned him away from his thoughts. “Fireheart! You and Sandpaw can join Mousefur. Graystripe can hunt with Whitestorm and Brackenpaw. It’s probably best if I don’t put you two in the same group.”
Amused purrs rippled through the group, but Fireheart narrowed his eyes angrily. He comforted himself by studying the nick he had left in the pale tabby’s ear when Longtail had taunted him on his first day in the camp.
“Good fight last night,” Mousefur rasped beside him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “It almost made up for missing out on a battle.”
Fireheart scowled as Dustpaw added, “Yeah! Nice moves, Fireheart—for a kittypet.” Fireheart gritted his teeth and looked at the ground, sheathing and unsheathing his claws.
The two groups left the camp together. As the hunters filed up the trail out of the ravine, Fireheart looked at the sky. The rain clouds he had seen rolling in last night had covered the sun, and the snow underpaw was turning to slush.
Mousefur led Sandpaw and Fireheart through Tallpines. “I’ll take Sandpaw with me,” the brown warrior told Fireheart. “You can hunt alone. Meet us back at camp at sunhigh.”
Fireheart couldn’t help feeling relieved at the thought of being alone. He stalked away through the trees, still hardly able to believe that he and Graystripe had fought so bitterly. Fireheart felt lost and alone without his old friend, though he barely recognized him anymore. He wondered if they could ever be friends again.
It wasn’t until he felt the softness of leaves beneath his paws that Fireheart realized he’d wandered all the way to the oak woods that backed onto the Twolegplace. Instantly he thought of Princess, and wondered if his paws had carried him to her Twoleg nest for a reason.
Fireheart made straight for her fence and called softly down into the garden. Then he jumped back into the woods and waited in the undergrowth for his sister to come looking.
He didn’t have to wait long before there was a scrabbling noise on the fence and he smelled her distinctive scent. Fireheart was about to leap out to meet her when he smelled a second, unfamiliar scent.
The bracken rustled, and Princess appeared. In her mouth she carried a tiny white kit. As Fireheart pushed his way out to meet her, she mewed a warm greeting through the bundle of fur in her teeth.
The kit was very small; Fireheart guessed it would not be weaned for another moon. Princess cleared away some slush with her paw and laid it gently down on the leaves. Then she sat down and wrapped her thick tail around it.
Fireheart was overwhelmed with emotion. This was his own kin, kittypet born like he had been! He walked quietly over to Princess, nuzzled a greeting, then bent down and sniffed the kit. It smelled of warmth and milk—strange but somehow familiar. Fireheart gave it a tender lick on the head and it mewled, opening its pink mouth to reveal tiny white teeth.
Princess looked at Fireheart, her eyes shining. “I have brought him for you, Fireheart,” she meowed softly. “I want you to take him back with you to your Clan so that he can be your new apprentice.”
CHAPTER 21
Fireheart stared at the tiny kit. “I never expected…” he began. He dragged his gaze away and stared wordlessly at his sister.
“My housefolk will choose where the rest will live,” Princess went on. “But this is my firstborn and I want to decide his future.” She raised her chin. “Make him a hero, please. Like you!”
The unsettling sense of loneliness that had been dragging at Fireheart for so long began to ebb away. He pictured the white kit among the Clan, as he showed him the ways of the forest and hunted by his side through the thick ferns. At last, there would be another cat in ThunderClan who shared Fireheart’s kittypet roots.
Princess tilted her head. “I know how upset you were about your apprentice. I thought if you had a new apprentice—one who’s your own kin—you wouldn’t feel so lonely.” She stretched her neck and rested her nose against Fireheart’s side. “I don’t understand all your Clan ways, but seeing you, and hearing you talk about your life, I know I would be honored if my son was brought up as a Clan cat.”
As the first flare of happiness settled inside him, Fireheart thought of the rest of his Clan, and how desperately they needed fighting cats. Cinderpaw would never be a warrior now. And what if the greencough took more lives than just Bluestar’s? ThunderClan might need this kit.