Warriors 03 - Forest of Secrets (15 page)

Gone to meet Silverstream, Fireheart thought with a sigh of resignation. It was hardly surprising, now that Graystripe knew she was going to have his kits, but it meant that Fireheart would have to cover for his absence again.

Yawning widely, Fireheart pushed his way through the
outer branches of the bush, and shook moss from his coat while he looked around the clearing. The sun was beginning to edge its way above the bracken wall, casting long shadows over the bare ground. The sky was pure, cloudless, and blue. Birdsong all around held the promise of easy prey.

“Hey, Brackenpaw!” Fireheart called to the apprentice, who sat blinking at the entrance to his den. “Do you want to go hunting?”

Brackenpaw leaped to his paws and raced across the clearing to Fireheart. “Now?” he asked, delight shining in his eyes.

“Yes, now,” meowed Fireheart, suddenly sharing the young cat's eagerness. “I could do with a nice fresh mouse, couldn't you?”

Brackenpaw fell in behind him as they headed for the gorse tunnel. He hadn't even asked where Graystripe was, Fireheart realized. Graystripe had never taken his duties as mentor seriously, he thought with a pang of worry. He had been more interested in Silverstream right from the start. Meanwhile, Fireheart himself had more or less taken over Brackenpaw's training. He enjoyed it, and he liked the serious-minded ginger tom, but he was troubled that loyalty to the Clan didn't mean more to Graystripe.

He put these thoughts aside as he led Brackenpaw up the ravine, avoiding the muddy streambed where the floodwater was drying up. It was hard to be sad or anxious on a bright, warm day like this. With the floods receding more and more every day, there was no longer any danger that ThunderClan would be driven out of their camp by rising water.

At the top of the ravine, Fireheart paused. “Okay, Brackenpaw,” he meowed. “Have a good sniff. What can you smell?”

Brackenpaw stood with his head erect, his eyes closed, and his jaws parted to drink in the breeze. “Mouse,” he mewed at last. “Rabbit, and blackbird, and…some other bird I don't know.”

“That's woodpecker,” Fireheart told him. “Anything else?”

Brackenpaw concentrated, and his eyes snapped open in alarm. “Fox!”

“Fresh?”

The apprentice sniffed again and then relaxed, looking a bit ashamed of himself. “No, stale. Two or three days old, I think.”

“Good, Brackenpaw. Now, you head that way, as far as the two old oaks, and I'll go this way.” He watched Brackenpaw for a few moments as the apprentice moved slowly into the shadow of the trees, stopping every few paces to taste the air. A flutter of wings under a bush distracted Fireheart; turning his head he saw a thrush, flapping to keep its balance as it tugged a worm out of the soil.

Fireheart crouched down and crept toward it paw by paw. The thrush pulled the worm free and started to tuck in; Fireheart bunched his muscles for the pounce.

“Fireheart! Fireheart!”

Brackenpaw's frantic meow split the silence. His paws crunched on dead leaves as he tore through the trees toward Fireheart. Though Fireheart hurled himself at the thrush it
had been given too much warning. It flew up to a low branch, squawking in panic, while Fireheart's paws thudded onto the empty ground.

“What do you think you're doing?” Fireheart swung around angrily to face the apprentice. “I'd have caught that thrush, and now listen to it! Every bit of prey in the forest will—”

“Fireheart!” Brackenpaw gasped out, skidding to a halt in front of him. “They're coming! I could smell them; then I saw them!”

“Smell who? Who's coming?”

Brackenpaw's eyes were round with fear. “ShadowClan and WindClan!” he meowed. “They're coming to invade our camp!”

“Where? How many warriors?” Fireheart demanded.

“Over there.” Brackenpaw flicked his tail toward the deeper forest. “I don't know how many. They're creeping through the undergrowth.”

“Okay.” Fireheart thought quickly, trying to ignore the sudden thumping of his heart. “Go back to camp. Warn Bluestar and Tigerclaw. We need some warriors out here right now.”

“Yes, Fireheart.” Brackenpaw spun around and raced off down the ravine.

As soon as he had gone, Fireheart headed into the forest, prowling with new caution beneath the arching ferns. At first all seemed quiet, though it wasn't long before he picked up the rank scent of many intruding cats—the scents of WindClan and ShadowClan.

Somewhere ahead, a bird sounded a stuttering alarm call. Fireheart took cover behind a tree. He could still see nothing. His fur prickled with anticipation.

He bunched his hindquarters and sprang, clawing his way up the trunk of the tree until he could scramble onto a low
branch. Crouching there, he peered down through the leaves.

The forest floor seemed empty, with not even a beetle stirring. Then Fireheart caught sight of a fern quivering. Something flashed white and was gone. Moments later a dark head poked out of the undergrowth below the tree. Fireheart recognized Nightstar.

A soft mew came from him. “Follow me!”

The ShadowClan leader emerged from the bracken and raced across a stretch of open ground. A band of cats streamed after him; Fireheart grew even more tense when he saw how many. Warriors from WindClan and ShadowClan bore down on his camp together; Fireheart saw Tallstar and Cinderfur, Deadfoot and Stumpytail, Wetfoot and Onewhisker, running side by side as if they were littermates.

Not long ago, these cats had been fighting each other in the snowbound WindClan camp. Now they were united in their hatred of Brokentail and of ThunderClan for sheltering him.

Fireheart knew he would have to fight them. Even though he thought of the WindClan warriors as his friends, he would have to stand by his leader and his own Clan.

As Fireheart braced himself to spring down, he heard a single furious caterwaul from the direction of the camp, and recognized Tigerclaw's voice summoning the warriors to battle. For all his distrust of the deputy, Fireheart couldn't help feeling relieved. Right now, ThunderClan needed all of Tigerclaw's fierce courage and fighting skills.

Fireheart scrambled down the tree, hit the ground with all
four paws, and streaked toward the battle, no longer trying to hide from the invaders. When he broke out of the trees, he saw that the open ground at the top of the ravine was covered with a mass of writhing, spitting cats. Tigerclaw and Nightstar wrestled together, clawing furiously. Darkstripe had pinned down a WindClan warrior. Mousefur flung herself, screeching in fury, on top of Cinderfur. Morningflower, a WindClan queen, raked her claws down Longtail's flank and sent him howling back down the slope.

Fireheart sprang at Morningflower, anger pounding through his veins. He couldn't help remembering how he had helped this same queen carry her kit on the way back to WindClan's camp after Brokenstar had driven out her Clan. She leaped around as Fireheart landed beside her, and pulled back just as she was about to swipe him with her claws. For a few heartbeats both cats stared at each other. Morningflower's eyes were filled with sorrow, and Fireheart could see that she too remembered what they had endured together. He could not bring himself to strike her, and after a moment she backed away from him and disappeared into the heaving mass of cats.

Before he could draw breath, a cat slammed into Fireheart from behind, knocking him onto the damp ground. He scrabbled vainly to get up. Twisting his neck, he gazed up into the fierce eyes of the ShadowClan warrior Stumpytail; a heartbeat later the ShadowClan warrior's teeth sank into his shoulder. Letting out a yowl of pain, Fireheart battered at Stumpytail's belly with his back legs, clawing out great clumps of his brown tabby fur. Stumpytail's blood spattered him as
the ShadowClan warrior reared back in agony and was gone.

Fireheart scrambled up and looked around, panting. The fiercest fighting had shifted to the bottom of the ravine. The enemy cats were pushing forward, clearly determined to invade the camp. The outnumbered ThunderClan warriors were unable to keep them back. And where was Bluestar?

Then Fireheart saw her. With Whitestorm and Dustpelt, she crouched at the entrance to the gorse tunnel, ready to bar the way with her life. Already Onewhisker and Wetfoot had broken through Tigerclaw's defense, and as Fireheart stared, horrified, Wetfoot flung himself at Bluestar.

Fireheart raced along the top of the ravine. Out of the whole of ThunderClan, only he and Yellowfang knew that Bluestar was on the last of her nine lives. If she died in this battle, ThunderClan would be without a leader—or worse, would be left to the control of Tigerclaw.

When he was above the tunnel entrance, Fireheart plunged straight down the slope, his paws barely touching the treacherously steep rocks, to land, skidding, in the thick of the fight. His teeth tore into Wetfoot's neck, dragging the warrior off Bluestar. The ThunderClan leader slashed her claws at the gray tabby tom until he scrabbled backward and fled.

A wave of fighting cats bore down on Fireheart and the other cats by the gorse tunnel. Fireheart bit and scratched instinctively without knowing which cat he was fighting. Sharp claws slashed his forehead and blood began trickling into his eyes. He took a gasping breath, feeling as if he were about to suffocate in the rank scent of his enemies.

Then he heard Bluestar meowing close to his ear. “They're pushing through the wall! Fall back—defend the camp!”

Fireheart scrabbled to keep on his paws as the invaders carried the battle into the tunnel itself. The gorse tore at his fur like hostile claws. It was impossible to fight here, so he turned along his own length and struggled through the gorse into the camp.

In the clearing, Willowpelt, Runningwind, and Sandstorm had rushed to guard the nursery, ready to protect the nursing queens and their kits. Longtail, hastily licking his wounds, stood outside Brokentail's den with Brackenpaw beside him. Among the branches of the fallen tree, Fireheart could just make out the dark tabby fur and sightless eyes of the former ShadowClan leader. He couldn't help feeling a pang of frustration that they were being attacked for the sake of this cruel and murderous cat.

Nightstar and Onewhisker were the first to break out of the tunnel, streaking across the open ground toward Brokentail's den. Tallstar pushed his way through the thorny hedge and joined them. More of the invaders followed.

“Stop them!” Fireheart yowled, rallying the Clan warriors as he raced across the clearing. “They want Brokentail!” He threw himself on Nightstar, rolling the black tom over on the dusty ground. He couldn't help wondering how many ThunderClan cats really wanted to defend the former ShadowClan leader. Many of them would no doubt be happy to hand him over to the other Clans. But Fireheart also felt sure that they would stay loyal; whatever they felt in their
hearts, they would fight for ThunderClan.

He pinned Nightstar down, his teeth buried in the leader's bony shoulder. Nightstar writhed under him and then heaved upward. Fireheart lost his balance and suddenly found that he was trapped—the warrior, though old, was still ferociously strong.

Nightstar bared his fangs, his eyes gleaming. All of a sudden he reared back, letting Fireheart go. Shaking blood from his eyes, Fireheart saw that Brackenpaw had leaped at the ShadowClan leader and was clinging to his back with all four paws. Nightstar tried vainly to shake him off and then rolled over, crushing Brackenpaw against the ground. The apprentice let out a furious howl.

Fireheart slashed at Nightstar with claws outstretched, but Tallstar thrust between them, trying to reach Brokentail's den. To his dismay, Fireheart felt himself being forced backward.

Then Tigerclaw was there. The huge deputy was bleeding from many wounds and his fur was plastered with mud, but his amber eyes still burned with the fire of battle. He swiped a massive paw at Tallstar, bowling him over and sending him scrambling away.

More ThunderClan cats appeared: Whitestorm, Mousefur, Runningwind, and Bluestar herself. The tide of battle turned. The invaders started to retreat, breaking for the tunnel and the gaps in the bracken around the clearing. Fireheart watched, panting, as Onewhisker vanished at the tail end of the fleeing invaders. The battle was over.

Brokentail stayed crouching in his den, his head low as he stared unseeing at the ground. He had made not one sound during the battle. Fireheart wondered if he even knew what his adopted Clan had risked for him.

Close by, Brackenpaw struggled to his paws. Fur hung raggedly from one shoulder, and his coat was smeared with dust and blood, but his eyes glowed.

“Well done,” Fireheart meowed. “You fought like a warrior.”

The apprentice's eyes shone even brighter.

Meanwhile the battered ThunderClan cats were gathered around Bluestar. All were muddy and bleeding, and they looked as exhausted as Fireheart felt. At first they were silent, their heads lowered. Fireheart could sense no triumph in their victory.

“You brought this on us!” It was Darkstripe who spoke, angrily confronting Bluestar. “You made us keep Brokentail here, and now we've been torn to pieces defending him. How long before one of us is killed for his sake?”

Bluestar looked troubled. “I never thought it would be easy, Darkstripe. But we must do what we believe is right.”

Darkstripe spat at her with contempt. “For Brokentail? For a couple of mousetails I'd kill him myself!”

Several of the other warriors mewed their agreement.

“Darkstripe.” Tigerclaw shouldered his way through the assembled cats to stand beside Bluestar, who looked suddenly old and fragile beside the huge dark tabby. “This is your leader you're talking to. Show some respect.”

For a heartbeat Darkstripe glared at them both, then bowed his head. Tigerclaw swung his massive head, sweeping his amber gaze over all the cats.

“Fireheart, go and fetch Yellowfang,” meowed Bluestar.

Fireheart turned toward the medicine cat's den, to see that she was already running stiffly across the clearing, followed closely by Cinderpaw. Quickly the two cats began to check the warriors' wounds, searching out the ones who needed the most urgent treatment. As Fireheart waited for his turn, he saw another cat appear from the camp entrance. It was Graystripe. His fur was sleek and unmarked; a couple of pieces of fresh-kill dangled from his jaws.

Before Fireheart could move, Tigerclaw broke away from Cinderpaw and strode across to meet Graystripe in the middle of the clearing. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

Graystripe looked bewildered. He dropped the fresh-kill and meowed, “Hunting. What on earth happened here?”

“What does it look like?” snarled the deputy. “WindClan and ShadowClan invaded, trying to get at Brokentail. We needed every warrior, but it seems that you weren't here. Where were you?”

With Silverstream, Fireheart answered silently. He thanked StarClan that at least Graystripe had brought back some prey, so he had a genuine reason for being away from camp.

“Well, how was I to know what was happening?” Graystripe protested to the deputy, beginning to look annoyed. “Or do I have to ask your permission before I set paw out of camp?”

Fireheart winced—Graystripe should have known better than to provoke Tigerclaw like that, but perhaps guilt was making him reckless.

Tigerclaw growled low in his throat. “You're away too often for my liking—you and Fireheart.”

“Hang on!” Fireheart was stung into replying. “I was here today when the cats attacked. And it's not Graystripe's fault that he wasn't.”

Tigerclaw let his cold gaze rest on Graystripe, and then Fireheart. “Just be careful,” he spat. “I've got my eye on you—both of you.” He swung around and stalked back to Cinderpaw.

“Like I care,” Graystripe muttered, but he didn't meet Fireheart's eyes.

While Graystripe went to take his prey to the pile of fresh-kill, Fireheart limped back to the medicine cats to have his wounds seen to.

“Hmph!” growled Yellowfang as she ran an expert eye over him. “If they'd pulled out much more of your fur, you'd look like an eel. But none of the wounds is deep. You'll live.”

Cinderpaw came up with a wad of cobweb, which she pressed to the scratch over Fireheart's eye. Gently she touched her nose to his. “You were brave, Fireheart,” she whispered.

“Not really.” Fireheart felt embarrassed. “We all did what we had to do.”

“But it's not easy,” Yellowfang rasped unexpectedly. “I've fought battles in my time, and I know. Bluestar,” she went on, turning to the leader and facing her squarely,
“thank you. It means a lot to me that you'd risk your Clan to protect Brokentail.”

Bluestar shook her head. “There's no need for thanks, Yellowfang. It's a matter of honor. Despite what Brokentail has done, he deserves our compassion now.”

The old medicine cat bowed her head. Softly, so that only Bluestar and Fireheart could hear, she mewed, “He has brought great danger to my adopted Clan, and for that I am sorry.”

Bluestar moved closer to her and gave her gray coat a comforting lick. For a moment the expression in her eyes was that of a mother soothing a fretful kit. A picture came into Fireheart's mind of the Clan leader padding through the forest on the night of the Gathering, and the moonlight that shone on three silver coats—on Bluestar, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur.

Fireheart gasped. Was that really what he had seen? Three cats so identical that they could be nothing else but kin? Mistyfoot and Stonefur were sister and brother, he knew…and Graypool had told him that they had once borne the scent of ThunderClan.

Was it possible that Bluestar's kits hadn't died all those moons ago? Could it be that Mistyfoot and Stonefur were the ThunderClan leader's lost kits?