Warriors 03 - Forest of Secrets (11 page)

Fireheart dipped his head in acknowledgment. Impulsively, he asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? If you can't go back to your camp, and if prey's scarce because of the flood—”

“We need no help from ThunderClan,” growled Crookedstar. “RiverClan cats can look after themselves.”

“Don't be such a fool.” It was Graypool who spoke, with a glare at her leader. Fireheart felt a new surge of respect for her; he guessed that not many cats would dare to take that tone with Crookedstar. “You're too proud for your own good,” the elder rasped. “How can we feed ourselves, even
with the thaw? There are no fish to eat. The river's practically poisoned; you know it is.”

“What?” Graystripe exclaimed; Fireheart was too shocked to say anything.

“It's all the fault of the Twolegs,” Graypool explained to them. “Last newleaf, the river was clean and full of fish. Now it's filthy with Twoleg rubbish from their camp.”

“And the fish are poisoned,” Mudfur added. “Cats who eat them fall ill. I've treated more cats for bellyache this leaf-bare than in all the time since I've been the medicine cat.”

Fireheart stared at Graystripe, and then back at the hungry RiverClan cats. Most of them couldn't meet his eyes, as if they were ashamed that a cat of another Clan should know about their troubles. “Then let us help,” he urged them all. “We'll catch prey for you in our territory and bring it to you, until the floods have gone and the river is clean.”

Even as he made the offer, he knew that he was breaking the warrior code that demanded loyalty to his own Clan alone. Bluestar would be furious with him if she found out he was prepared to share ThunderClan's precious prey like this. But Fireheart couldn't bring himself to abandon another Clan in their need. Bluestar herself said our welfare depends on having four Clans in the forest, he reminded himself. Surely it's the will of StarClan.

“Would you really do this for us?” asked Crookedstar slowly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Yes,” Fireheart meowed.

“And I'll help too,” promised Graystripe, with a glance at Silverstream.

“Then the Clan thanks you,” grunted Crookedstar. “None of my cats will challenge you in our territory until the floods go down and we can return to our camp. But after that, we will fend for ourselves again.” He turned and led the way back to the bushes. His subdued cats followed him, casting glances back at Fireheart and Graystripe as they went. Not all of them, Fireheart could see, trusted them or believed in their offer of help.

Last to go was Mistyfoot, nudging her kits to their paws and guiding them up the slope. “Thank you both,” she murmured. “I won't forget this.”

Fireheart and Graystripe were left alone as the RiverClan cats disappeared into the bushes. As they picked their way down the slope again toward the river, Graystripe shook his head in disbelief. “Hunting for another Clan? We must be mad.”

“What else could we do?” Fireheart retorted. “Let them starve?”

“No! But we'll have to be careful. We'll be crowfood if Bluestar finds out.”

Or Tigerclaw, Fireheart added silently. He already suspects Graystripe and I have friends in RiverClan. And we could be about to prove him right.

It was a cold, gray morning. Fireheart
dragged himself reluctantly out of his warm nest, and padded over to nudge Graystripe.

“Wha…?” Graystripe twitched and settled down again with his tail wrapped over his nose. “Go away, Fireheart.”

Fireheart lowered his head and butted the broad gray shoulder. “Come on, Graystripe,” he whispered into his friend's ear. “We've got to hunt for RiverClan.”

At that, Graystripe levered himself upright and parted his jaws in an enormous yawn. Fireheart felt just as tired as his friend; supplying RiverClan with fresh-kill as well as keeping up with their duties in ThunderClan was taking up all their time and energy. They had crossed the river with prey several times, and so far their luck had held. No ThunderClan cat had found out what they were doing.

Stretching, Fireheart glanced cautiously around the den. Most of the warriors were curled among the moss, too sound asleep to ask awkward questions. Tigerclaw was just a mound of dark tabby fur in his nest.

Fireheart slipped out between the branches of the den. At first he thought that all the other cats were asleep; then he
saw Brindleface appear at the entrance to the nursery and lift her face to sniff the air. As if she didn't like the raw, damp wind that greeted her, she retreated almost at once.

Fireheart looked back at Graystripe, who was shaking scraps of moss off his coat. “Okay,” he meowed. “We can go now.”

The two cats bounded across the clearing toward the gorse tunnel. Just as they reached it, a familiar voice behind them called out, “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

Fireheart froze and turned around. Cloudkit was scampering toward him, yowling, “Fireheart! Wait for me!”

“Fireheart,” growled Graystripe, “why does your kin always turn up at the most awkward moment?”

“StarClan knows.” Fireheart sighed.

“Where are you going?” Cloudkit panted excitedly as he skidded to a stop in front of the warriors. “Can I come with you?”

“No,” Graystripe told him. “Only apprentices can go out with warriors.”

Cloudkit shot Graystripe a look of dislike. “But I'll be an apprentice soon. Won't I, Fireheart?”

“‘Soon' isn't ‘now,'” Fireheart reminded him, struggling to keep calm. If they hung around much longer, the whole Clan would be awake and wanting to know where they were going. “You can't come this time, Cloudkit. We're going out on a special warrior mission.”

Cloudkit's blue eyes grew round with wonder. “Is it a secret?”

“Yes,” hissed Graystripe. “Especially from nosey kits.”

“I wouldn't tell any cat,” Cloudkit promised eagerly. “Fireheart, please let me come.”

“No.” Fireheart exchanged an exasperated glance with Graystripe. “Look, Cloudkit, go back to the nursery now, and maybe I'll take you out later for some hunting practice. Okay?”

“Okay…I suppose.” Cloudkit looked sulky, but he turned around and trailed off in the direction of the nursery.

Fireheart watched him until he reached the entrance, and then slipped into the mouth of the tunnel. Moments later he was racing up the ravine with Graystripe at his side.

“I just hope Cloudkit doesn't tell the whole Clan we went out early on a special mission,” puffed Graystripe.

“We'll worry about that later,” Fireheart panted.

The two warriors headed for the stepping-stones. The fallen tree was still there to help them cross the river, and hunting close by meant they had less distance to carry the fresh-kill, and were less likely to be spotted.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, the daylight had grown stronger, but the sunrise was hidden behind a mass of gray cloud. There was a spatter of rain in the wind. Fireheart couldn't help feeling that all sensible prey would be curled up in their holes. He raised his head and sniffed. The breeze carried the scent of squirrel, fresh and not far away. Cautiously he began to stalk through the trees. Soon he caught sight of his prey searching among the debris at the foot of an oak tree. As he watched, it sat up and began to nibble on an acorn held between its front paws.

“If it knows we're here,” Graystripe breathed in his ear, “it'll be up that tree in a flash.”

Fireheart nodded. “Circle around,” he murmured. “Come at it from that side.”

Graystripe slid away from him, a silent gray shape in the shadows of the trees. Fireheart flattened himself into the hunter's crouch with the ease of long practice, and began to creep up on the squirrel. He saw its ears prick, and its head swiveled around as if something had alarmed it; perhaps it had seen a flicker of movement from Graystripe, or caught his scent.

While it was distracted, Fireheart hurled himself across the open ground. His claws pinned the squirrel to the forest floor, and Graystripe ran forward to finish the struggle.

“Well done,” Fireheart grunted.

Graystripe spat out a mouthful of fur. “It's a bit old and stringy, but it'll do.”

The two warriors continued their hunt until they had killed a rabbit and a couple of mice. By then, although he could not see the sun, Fireheart knew it must be near sunhigh. “We'd better take this to RiverClan,” he meowed. “They're bound to miss us back at the camp soon.”

Stumbling slightly under the weight of the squirrel and one of the mice, he led the way to the fallen tree. To his relief, the water was no higher, and the crossing seemed easier now that he had done it several times. All the same, Fireheart felt uneasy as he scrambled through the branches, knowing that he was in full view of any ThunderClan cat who happened to
be patrolling the forest's edge.

He and Graystripe swam the last couple of fox-lengths and pulled themselves out of the river on the RiverClan side. When they had shaken the water out of their fur they slunk quickly toward the bushes where RiverClan had made their temporary camp.

A cat must have been on watch, because as they approached, Leopardfur emerged from the bushes. “Welcome,” she meowed, sounding a lot friendlier than she had when she first came upon them with the two kits they had rescued.

Fireheart followed her into the shelter of the hawthorn branches, remembering how he and Graystripe had hidden there to wait for Silverstream. The RiverClan cats had worked hard since the floods forced them out of their camp, bringing moss for bedding and scraping out a place beside the roots of a large bush where fresh-kill could be stored. Today this was little more than a pitiful collection of a few mice and a couple of blackbirds, which made the ThunderClan warriors' contribution all the more necessary. Fireheart dropped his prey onto the pile, and Graystripe did the same.

“Is that more fresh-kill?” Stonefur appeared with Silverstream just behind him. “Great!”

“We have to feed the elders and the nursing queens first,” Leopardfur reminded him.

“I'll take something for the elders,” Silverstream offered. She turned a long look on Graystripe and meowed, “You can help me. Fetch that rabbit, will you?”

Fireheart felt a sudden jolt of alarm. Surely Silverstream
wouldn't risk spending time alone with Graystripe in the middle of her own camp? On their earlier visits, she had kept her distance.

Graystripe didn't need another invitation. “Sure,” he mewed, grabbing the rabbit and following Silverstream out of the bushes.

“They've got the right idea,” meowed Stonefur. “Fireheart, do you want to bring the squirrel to the nursing queens? Then they can thank you themselves.”

Feeling somewhat dazed, Fireheart agreed. Following Stonefur, he reflected again on how strange it was to look at the RiverClan warrior and know that he was half ThunderClan, especially since Stonefur himself didn't share that knowledge.

In the makeshift nursery, Fireheart was pleased to see Mistyfoot again, stretched out on her side while her kits suckled contentedly. But he couldn't help worrying about Graystripe. Once he had greeted the queens, and helped them divide up the squirrel, he murmured to Stonefur, “Can you show me where Graystripe went? We ought to be getting back, before any cat notices we're missing.”

“Sure, this way,” meowed Stonefur. He led Fireheart to a spot farther along the ridge where three or four elders were crouched on a bed of heather and bracken, tucking into the fresh-kill. Already not much was left of the rabbit except a few scraps of fur.

Graystripe and Silverstream were watching in silence, sitting side by side but not quite touching, with their tails
wrapped around their paws. As soon as they saw Fireheart they sprang up and padded over to him.

Graystripe's yellow eyes blazed with a mixture of excitement and fear. “Fireheart!” he blurted out. “You won't believe what Silverstream's just told me!”

Fireheart glanced behind him, but Stonefur was already disappearing off into the bushes. The elders, having just eaten, looked sleepy, and none of them was paying any attention to Graystripe.

“Okay, what?” Fireheart mewed, his fur starting to prickle with unease. “But keep your voice down.”

Graystripe looked ready to burst out of his skin. “Fireheart,” he whispered, “Silverstream is going to have my kits!”

His heart thudding, Fireheart looked from
Graystripe to Silverstream. She quivered with happiness, her green eyes glowing with pride. “Your kits?” he echoed in alarm. “Are you both out of your minds? This is disastrous!”

Graystripe blinked and would not meet his friend's eyes. “Not…not necessarily. I mean, these kits will join us together forever.”

“But you come from different Clans!” Fireheart protested. From the uneasiness in Graystripe's expression, he guessed that his friend knew very well what difficulties the kits would cause. “You can't ever claim these kits as your own, Graystripe. And Silverstream,” he added, turning toward the RiverClan cat, “you won't be able to tell anyone in your Clan who the father is.”

“I don't care,” Silverstream insisted, giving her chest fur a quick lick. “I'll know. That's all that matters.”

Graystripe looked as if he wasn't too sure of that. “It's stupid that they can't know,” he muttered. “We haven't done anything to be ashamed of.” He pressed himself against Silverstream's flank and shot Fireheart a helpless glance.

“I know that's what you feel,” Fireheart agreed heavily. “But it's no good, Graystripe; you know it isn't. These will be RiverClan kits.” His heart sank at the thought of the trouble this could cause in the future. When these kits grew to be warriors, Graystripe might have to fight against them! He would be torn between loyalty to his blood kin, and loyalty to his Clan and the warrior code. Fireheart could not see any way for him to keep faith with both.

Had it been the same with Mistyfoot and Stonefur? he wondered. Had their ThunderClan parents ever had to fight against them? He remembered Oakheart, trying to defend them from ThunderClan attack; how had the RiverClan warrior explained that to them? It was an impossible situation, and now it would all begin again with a new set of kits.

But Fireheart knew it was pointless to say this now. Glancing up and down the line of bushes in case any cat was approaching, he meowed, “It's time we were going. It must be sunhigh. They'll miss us back at camp.”

Graystripe touched his nose gently to Silverstream's. “Fireheart's right,” he murmured. “We must go. And don't worry,” he added. “They'll be the most beautiful kits in the forest.”

Silverstream's eyes narrowed with affection, and her voice came in a deep purr. “I know. We'll find a way to get through this.” She stood watching as Fireheart and Graystripe left the bushes and padded down the slope toward the flooded river. Graystripe kept looking back, as if he could hardly bear to leave her.

Fireheart felt as if he were carrying a cold, heavy stone in his chest. How long can this go on, he wondered, before some cat finds out?

 

He was still feeling weighed down with anxiety as they crossed the tree trunk and went back into ThunderClan territory, though he tried hard to push the problem out of his mind. Right now it was more important to decide what to say if any cat had noticed their absence.

“I think we should hunt for a bit,” he told Graystripe. “Then at least—”

An excited meow from the edge of the forest interrupted him. “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

Fireheart stared in disbelief as a small white body crashed out of the bracken at the edge of the trees. Cloudkit!

“Oh, mousedung!” muttered Graystripe.

Fireheart padded across the grass, his heart sinking. “Cloudkit, what are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told you to stay in the nursery.”

“I tracked you,” Cloudkit announced proudly. “All the way from camp.”

As he looked at the kit's shining blue eyes, Fireheart felt sick with apprehension. Their chances of slipping back into camp with a story of early hunting had just vanished. Cloudkit must have seen them crossing the river.

“I followed your scent trail right up to the stepping-stones,” Cloudkit went on. “Fireheart, what were you and Graystripe doing in RiverClan territory?”

Before Fireheart could think of a reply, another voice broke in—a low, menacing growl. “Yes, that's what I would like to know, too.”

Fireheart felt the strength drain out of his paws as he looked up to see Tigerclaw shouldering his way through the crisp brown bracken.

“Fireheart's really brave!” mewed Cloudkit, while Fireheart stood with his mouth half-open, panic turning his brain to feathers. “He went out on a special warrior mission—he told me so.”

“Did he now?” hissed Tigerclaw, an interested gleam in his eyes. “And did he tell you what this special warrior mission was?”

“No, but I can guess.” Cloudkit trembled with excitement. “He's been with Graystripe to spy on RiverClan. Fireheart, did you—”

“Quiet, kit,” snapped Tigerclaw. “Well?” he challenged Fireheart. “Is that true?”

Fireheart glanced at Graystripe. His friend was frozen, his yellow eyes staring in horror at the deputy; obviously there would be no helpful suggestions from him.

“We wanted to see how far the floods went,” Fireheart meowed. That was not exactly a lie.

“Oh?” Tigerclaw paused while he looked deliberately in all directions and then asked, “What happened to the rest of your patrol? And some cat must have sent you,” he added, before Fireheart could reply. “It wasn't me, even though I sent out all the other patrols.”

“We just thought…” Graystripe began feebly.

Tigerclaw ignored him. He thrust his huge head so close to Fireheart that he could smell the deputy's hot, rancid breath. “If you ask me, kittypet, you're far too friendly with RiverClan. You might have been over there to spy—or you might be spying for them. Which side are you on?”

“You've no right to accuse me!” Anger made Fireheart's fur bristle. “I'm loyal to ThunderClan.”

A deep growl came from Tigerclaw's throat. “Then you won't mind if we tell Bluestar about this expedition of yours. And we'll see if she thinks you're so loyal. As for you…” He glared down at Cloudkit, who tried to meet his amber gaze boldly, but couldn't help retreating a pace or two. “Bluestar ordered that no kits were to leave camp alone. Or do you think Clan orders don't apply to you, like your kittypet kin?”

For once, Cloudkit didn't reply; his blue eyes looked scared.

Tigerclaw swung around and stalked back toward the trees. “Come on; we're wasting time. Follow me, all of you,” he snarled.

 

When they reached the camp, Fireheart saw Bluestar standing at the foot of the Highrock. A patrol made up of Whitestorm, Longtail, and Mousefur was reporting to her.

“The stream is flooded as far as the Thunderpath,” Fireheart heard Whitestorm say. “If the water doesn't go down, we won't be able to make it to the next Gathering.”

“There's still time before—” Bluestar broke off when she
saw Tigerclaw approach her. “Yes, what is it?”

“I've brought these cats to you,” the deputy growled. “One disobedient kit, and two traitors.”

“Traitors!” echoed Longtail. His eyes met Fireheart's with an unpleasant gleam. “Just what I'd expect of a kittypet,” he sneered.

“That's enough,” Bluestar ordered, with the faintest hint of a snarl in her voice. She dipped her head toward the cats in the patrol. “You may go, all of you.” She turned back to Tigerclaw as they moved away. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw this kit leaving camp,” Tigerclaw began, flicking his tail toward Cloudkit, “after you ordered that no kits or apprentices should go out without a warrior. I went to fetch him back, but when I got into the ravine, I realized he was following a scent trail.” He paused, and glared challengingly at Fireheart and Graystripe. “The trail led to the stepping-stones downstream from the Sunningrocks. And what should I see there but these two brave warriors”—he spat the words out—“crossing back from RiverClan territory. When I asked them what they were doing, they gave me some fish-and-mouse story about checking to see how far the floods stretched.”

Fireheart braced himself for Bluestar's anger, but the Clan leader remained calm. “Is this true?” she asked.

During the journey back from the stepping-stones, Fireheart had had time to think. He couldn't imagine the
trouble he would be in if he tried to lie to Bluestar again. Now, seeing the wisdom in her face and the penetrating look in her blue eyes, he knew he had to tell her the truth. “Yes,” he admitted. “We can explain, but…” He shot a glance at Tigerclaw.

Bluestar closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, her expression was as unreadable as ever. “Tigerclaw, I'll deal with this. You may go.”

The deputy looked as if he was going to object, but under Bluestar's clear gaze he kept silent. He gave her a curt nod and marched off toward the pile of fresh-kill.

“Now, Cloudkit,” meowed Bluestar, turning to the white kit. “Do you know why I ordered kits and apprentices not to go out alone?”

“Because the floods are dangerous,” replied Cloudkit sullenly. “But I—”

“You disobeyed me and you must be punished. That is the Clan law.”

For a moment Fireheart thought that Cloudkit was about to protest, but to his relief the kit just dipped his head and mewed, “Yes, Bluestar.”

“Tigerclaw got you to help the elders for a few days recently, didn't he? Very well, you can continue with those duties. It is an honor to serve the other cats in the Clan, and you must learn that it is an honor to obey Clan orders, too. Go now, and see if they have any jobs for you.”

Cloudkit bowed his head again and scampered off across
the clearing, his tail held high. Fireheart suspected he quite enjoyed looking after the elders, and that his punishment wasn't as bad as it might have been. He couldn't help worrying that Cloudkit still hadn't learned his lesson about respecting the ways of the Clan.

Bluestar settled down on the ground with her paws tucked under her. “Tell me what happened,” she invited the warriors.

Taking a deep breath, Fireheart explained how he and Graystripe had rescued the RiverClan kits, and been taken to the camp by RiverClan warriors.

“Except we couldn't go into their camp,” he meowed. “It's underwater. They're staying in the bushes on higher ground for now.”

“I see…” murmured Bluestar.

“They haven't much shelter,” Fireheart went on. “And they're finding it hard to catch prey. They told us that the Twolegs have poisoned the river. Cats get ill if they eat the fish.”

As he spoke he caught a worried look from Graystripe, as if his friend thought it was dangerous to reveal so many of RiverClan's weaknesses. Some cats, Fireheart knew, would see this as a good chance to attack RiverClan. But he believed Bluestar was not like that. She would never try to take advantage of another cat's troubles, especially not in leaf-bare.

“So we felt we had to do something,” he finished. “We…we offered to catch prey for RiverClan in our territory, and we've been taking fresh-kill across the river to them. Today
Tigerclaw saw us coming back.”

“We're not traitors,” Graystripe put in. “We only wanted to help.”

Bluestar turned to him, then back to Fireheart again. She looked stern, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I understand,” she murmured. “I even respect your good intentions. All cats have the right to survive, whatever their Clan. But you know perfectly well that you can't take matters into your own paws like that. You acted deceitfully in slipping away on your own. You lied to Tigerclaw—or at least you didn't tell him all the truth,” she added, before Fireheart could protest. “And you hunted for another Clan before your own. This is not how warriors behave.”

Fireheart swallowed uncomfortably and looked sideways at Graystripe. His friend's head was bowed and he was staring at his paws in shame.

“We know all that,” Fireheart admitted. “We're sorry.”

“Feeling sorry isn't always enough,” Bluestar meowed, with an edge to her voice. “You will have to be punished. And since you haven't acted like warriors, we'll see if you can remember what it's like to be apprentices. From now on, you can hunt for the elders and see to their needs. And when you hunt, you'll have another warrior to supervise you.”

“What?” Fireheart couldn't help the word escaping in a mew of outrage.

“You have broken the warrior code,” Bluestar reminded him. “Since you can't be trusted, you'll go with someone who can. There must be no more visits to RiverClan.”

“But…we won't be apprentices again, will we?” Graystripe meowed anxiously.

“No.” Bluestar allowed a gleam of amusement to soften her eyes. “You are still warriors. A leaf cannot return to the bud. But you will live as apprentices until I think you have learned your lesson.”

Fireheart forced himself to breathe evenly. He was so proud to be a warrior of ThunderClan, and shame overwhelmed him at the thought of losing his warrior's privileges. But he knew there was no use arguing with Bluestar, and deep inside he admitted the punishment was fair. He bowed his head respectfully. “Very well, Bluestar.”

“And we really are sorry,” Graystripe added.

“I know.” Bluestar nodded to him. “You may go, Graystripe. Fireheart, stay a moment.”

Surprised, Fireheart waited a little nervously to find out what Bluestar wanted.

The Clan leader waited until Graystripe was out of earshot. Then she asked, “Tell me, Fireheart, have any RiverClan cats died in the floods?” She sounded distracted, and for once she didn't meet Fireheart's eyes. “Any warriors?”

“Not that I know of,” Fireheart admitted. “Crookedstar didn't say that any cat had drowned.”

Bluestar frowned, but she didn't ask any more. She gave a tiny nod, as if to herself. Then, after a brief hesitation, she dismissed Fireheart. “Find Graystripe and tell him you may both eat,” she ordered, her voice expressionless and
firm again. “And send Tigerclaw to me.”