Warriors 03 - Forest of Secrets (19 page)

“Fireheart,” Bluestar meowed, “you are ready for another apprentice, and Cloudpaw is your sister's kit. You will be his mentor.”

Fireheart stood up, but before he could walk over to the
Highrock Cloudkit scampered to meet him and lifted his head to touch noses.

“Not yet!” Fireheart muttered to him through his teeth.

“Fireheart, you know what it is to be one of us, yet born outside the Clan,” Bluestar continued, ignoring Cloudkit's impulsiveness. “I rely on you to pass on all you have learned to Cloudpaw, and help him to become a warrior the Clan will be proud of.”

“Yes, Bluestar.” Fireheart dipped his head respectfully, and at last allowed Cloudpaw to touch noses with him.

“Cloudpaw!” the new apprentice mewed triumphantly. “I'm Cloudpaw!”

“Cloudpaw!” Fireheart felt a surge of pride in his sister's kit as the members of the Clan pressed around to congratulate the new apprentice. The elders, Fireheart noticed, were making a special fuss over him.

But Fireheart also noticed that some of the Clan held back. Tigerclaw never moved from where he sat at the base of the rock, and Longtail stalked over to sit beside him. As Fireheart stood back to let the other cats reach his new apprentice, Darkstripe shouldered past him on his way to the warriors' den.

Fireheart heard his disgusted, deliberately loud meow. “Traitors and kittypets! Is there no decent cat left in this Clan?”

Fireheart paused at the edge of
the trees. “Wait,” he warned Cloudpaw. “We're near Twolegplace, so we have to be careful. What can you smell?”

Cloudpaw raised his nose obediently and sniffed. He and Fireheart had just been on the first long expedition of his apprenticeship, tracing the Clan boundaries and renewing the scent marks. Now they were near Fireheart's old kittypet home, outside the garden where Cloudpaw's mother Princess lived.

“I can smell lots of cats,” Cloudpaw mewed. “I don't recognize any of them, though.”

“That's good,” Fireheart told him. “They're mostly kittypets, and maybe a loner or two. Not Clan cats.” He had caught a trace of Tigerclaw's scent, too, but he didn't draw Cloudpaw's attention to it. He remembered the day long ago, when snow was on the ground, when he had tracked Tigerclaw to this place, and found the deputy's scent mixed with the scents of many strange cats.

Now Tigerclaw's scent proved he had been here again. Fireheart still could not tell whether he had met the other
cats, or whether their scents just happened to have crossed. But why should Tigerclaw come so close to the Twolegplace, when he despised Twolegs and everything to do with them?

“Fireheart, can we go and see my mother now?” Cloudpaw demanded.

“Can you smell dogs? Or fresh Twoleg scent?”

Cloudpaw sniffed again and shook his head.

“Then let's go,” mewed Fireheart. Looking carefully around, he stepped out into the open. Cloudpaw followed him with exaggerated caution, as if he wanted to show Fireheart how quickly he could learn.

Since his apprentice ceremony the day before, Cloudpaw had been unusually quiet. He was obviously trying very hard to be a good apprentice, listening to everything Fireheart told him with wide-eyed seriousness. But Fireheart couldn't help asking himself how long this uncharacteristic humility would last. Instructing Cloudpaw to wait, he leaped onto the fence and looked down into the garden. Lurid-colored flowers grew against the fence, and in the center of the grass some Twoleg pelts hung on a spiky, leafless tree. “Princess?” he called softly. “Princess, are you there?”

Leaves quivered on a shrub close to the house, and the tabby-and-white figure of Princess stepped delicately onto the grass. When she saw him she let out a delighted meow. “Fireheart!”

Bounding over to the fence, she sprang up beside him and pressed her cheek against his. “Fireheart, it's been such a long time!” she purred. “It's good to see you.”

“I've brought someone else, too,” Fireheart told her. “Look down there.”

Princess peered over the fence to where Cloudpaw sat on the ground below, looking up at her. “Fireheart!” she exclaimed. “That's couldn't be Cloudkit! He's grown so much!”

Without waiting to be told, Cloudpaw leaped for the top of the fence, paws scrabbling madly against the smooth wood. Fireheart leant over and fastened his teeth in his scruff to pull him up the last couple of mouse-lengths so that he could sit on the fence beside his mother.

Cloudpaw looked at Princess with wide blue eyes. “Are you really my mother?” he asked.

“I really am,” Princess purred, looking her son up and down admiringly. “Oh, it's so good to see you again, Cloudkit.”

“Actually, I'm not Cloudkit,” the fluffy white tom announced proudly. “I'm Cloudpaw now. I'm an apprentice.”

“That's wonderful!” Princess began to cover her son with licks, purring so hard that she barely had breath enough for words. “Oh, you're so thin…do you get enough to eat? Have you made friends where you are? I hope you do what Fireheart tells you.”

Cloudpaw didn't try to answer the flood of questions. He wriggled out from his mother's caresses and edged away from her along the fence. “I'll be a warrior soon,” he boasted. “Fireheart's teaching me to fight.”

Princess closed her eyes for a moment. “You will have to be so brave,” she murmured. For a moment Fireheart thought she was regretting her decision to give her son to the Clan,
but then she opened her eyes again and declared, “I'm so proud of both of you!”

Cloudpaw sat even taller as he lapped up her attention. He twisted his head to groom himself with rapid strokes of his small pink tongue, and while he was distracted Fireheart whispered, “Princess, do you ever see any strange cats around here?”

“Strange cats?” She looked puzzled, and Fireheart wondered if there was any point in asking the question. Princess wouldn't know rogues or loners from ordinary ThunderClan cats.

Then Princess shivered. “Yes, I've heard them yowling in the night. My Twoleg gets up and shouts at them.”

“You haven't seen a big, dark tabby?” Fireheart asked, his heart starting to pound. “A tom with a scarred muzzle?”

Princess shook her head, eyes wide. “I've only heard them, not seen them.”

“If you do see the dark tabby, stay away from him,” Fireheart warned. He didn't know what Tigerclaw was up to so far from the camp, if it really was Tigerclaw, but he didn't want Princess going near the deputy, just in case.

This made Princess look so scared that he changed the subject, encouraging Cloudpaw to describe his apprentice ceremony, and the expedition they had made around the borders. Soon she was happy again, exclaiming admiringly at everything her son told her.

The sun was past its height when Fireheart meowed, “Cloudpaw, it's time we went home.”

Cloudpaw opened his mouth as if he was going to protest,
but he remembered himself in time. “Yes, Fireheart,” he mewed obediently. To Princess, he added, “Why don't you come with us? I'd catch mice for you, and you could sleep in my den.”

Princess let out a purr of amusement. “I almost wish I could,” she replied honestly. “But really I'm happier as a kittypet. I don't want to learn to fight, or sleep outdoors in the cold. You'll just have to come and visit me again soon.”

“Yes, I will, I promise,” Cloudpaw mewed.

“I'll bring him,” Fireheart meowed. “And Princess…” he added as he prepared to spring to the ground. “If you do see anything…odd around here, please tell me about it.”

 

Fireheart stopped on the way back so that they could hunt. By the time he and Cloudpaw reached the ravine, the sun was near to setting, bathing the forest in red light and casting long shadows on the ground.

Cloudpaw was proudly carrying a shrew, which he was going to take to the elders. At least it filled his jaws and put a stop to his endless chatter. Fireheart was feeling worn out after a whole day in his company, but he had to admit he was more impressed than he had expected. Cloudpaw's courage and quick wits promised that he would make an exceptional warrior. As they slipped down the shadowy ravine toward the tunnel, Fireheart paused. An unfamiliar scent tickled his nostrils, drifting to him on the breeze that swept through the forest.

Cloudpaw stopped too and put down the shrew. “Fireheart,
what's that?” He tasted the air, and drew in his breath in a gasp. “You showed me that this morning. It's RiverClan!”

“Very good,” Fireheart mewed tensely. He had recognized it himself a heartbeat before Cloudpaw spoke. Looking up toward the top of the ravine, he could make out three cats picking their way slowly through the boulders. “RiverClan it is. And it seems they're on their way here. Now go back to the camp and tell Bluestar. Make sure she understands it's not an attack.”

“But I want—” The young apprentice broke off as Fireheart frowned. “Sorry, Fireheart. I'm going.” He padded off toward the tunnel entrance, not forgetting to pick up his shrew.

Fireheart stayed where he was. He drew himself up and waited while the three cats drew closer. He recognized Leopardfur, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur. When they were only a couple of tail-lengths away, he asked, “RiverClan, what do you want? Why are you on our land?” Though he had to challenge them for entering ThunderClan territory uninvited, he tried not to sound too hostile. He didn't want to add to any possible trouble with RiverClan.

Leopardfur stopped, with Mistyfoot and Stonefur just behind her. “We come in peace,” she meowed. “There are matters to be settled between our Clans. Crookedstar has sent us to talk to your leader.”

Fireheart tried to hide his misgivings
as he led the three RiverClan warriors down the tunnel and into the camp. Clan cats rarely visited each other's territory, and he wondered what was so urgent that it couldn't wait until the next Gathering.

Alerted by Cloudpaw, Bluestar was already seated at the foot of the Highrock, and Fireheart's apprehension increased when he saw Tigerclaw was beside her.

“Thank you, Cloudpaw.” Bluestar dismissed the apprentice as Fireheart approached with the newcomers. “Take your fresh-kill to the elders.”

Cloudpaw looked disappointed to be sent away, but he went without protest.

Leopardfur walked up to Bluestar and dipped her head respectfully. “Bluestar, we come to your camp in peace,” she began. “There's something we must discuss.”

Tigerclaw let out a low disbelieving growl, as if he would rather be ripping the fur off the intruding cats, but Bluestar ignored him. “I can guess what brings you here,” she meowed. “But what is there to discuss? What's done is done. Any punishment for Graystripe will be handled by his own Clan.”

While she spoke to Leopardfur, Fireheart noticed, her eyes kept straying to Mistyfoot and Stonefur. It was the first time Fireheart had seen his leader with the RiverClan warriors since she had admitted to him that they were her kits. He did not think he was imagining the wistfulness in her blue eyes as she looked at them.

“What you say is true,” Leopardfur agreed. “The two young cats were foolish, but Silverstream is dead, and Graystripe's punishment is not for RiverClan to decide. We've come here about the kits.”

“What about them?” asked Bluestar.

“They're RiverClan kits,” meowed Leopardfur. “We've come to take them home.”

“RiverClan kits?” Bluestar's eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”

“And how do you know about them?” Tigerclaw demanded, glaring in fury as he sprang to his paws. “Have you been spying? Or did some cat tell you?”

He turned on Fireheart as he spoke, but Fireheart stood his ground, and Mistyfoot kept quiet, not betraying him by so much as a glance. Tigerclaw couldn't know for sure that he had told Mistyfoot, and Fireheart refused to regret what he had done. RiverClan had the right to know.

“Sit down, Tigerclaw,” murmured Bluestar. She flashed a look at Fireheart, and he realized that his leader guessed what he had done, as surely as if she had seen him cross the river. But she didn't intend to give him away. “Who knows, perhaps a RiverClan patrol saw what happened? Such things can't be
hidden for long. But Leopardfur,” she went on, turning back to the visiting deputy, “the kits are also half ThunderClan, and one of our queens is taking good care of them. Why should I give them to you?”

“Kits belong with their mother's Clan,” Leopardfur explained. “RiverClan would have raised these kits if Silverstream had lived, without knowing who the father was, and that makes them ours by right.”

“Bluestar, you can't send the kits away!” Fireheart couldn't stop himself from interrupting. “They're all Graystripe has to live for.”

A growl rumbled once again in Tigerclaw's throat, but it was Bluestar who answered. “Fireheart, be quiet. This doesn't concern you.”

“Yes, it does,” Fireheart dared to meow. “Graystripe's my friend.”

“Silence!” hissed Tigerclaw. “Does your leader have to tell you twice? Graystripe is a traitor to his Clan. He has no right to the kits, or anything else.”

Rage flooded through Fireheart. Had Tigerclaw no respect for Graystripe's terrible grief? He whirled on the deputy, held back from springing at him only because cats of another Clan were looking on. Tigerclaw bared his teeth in a snarl.

Bluestar flicked her tail angrily at both of them. “Enough!” she ordered. “Leopardfur, I admit RiverClan has some right to the kits. But so does ThunderClan. Besides, the kits are small and weak. They can't travel yet, especially across the river. It's too dangerous.”

Leopardfur's hackles began to rise and her eyes narrowed to slits. “You are just making excuses.”

“No,” Bluestar insisted. “Not excuses. Would you risk the kits' lives? I'll think about what you have said and discuss it with my warriors, and give you our answer at the next Gathering.”

“Now get out of our camp,” growled Tigerclaw.

Leopardfur hesitated, as if she would have liked to say more, but it was clear that Bluestar had dismissed her. After a few tense moments, she dipped her head again and turned to go, with Mistyfoot and Stonefur behind her. Tigerclaw stalked across the clearing with them as far as the tunnel.

Left alone with Bluestar, Fireheart felt his anger begin to fade, but he couldn't help renewing his pleas. “We can't let them take the kits! You know how Graystripe would feel.”

The bleak look Bluestar gave him made him wonder if he had gone too far, but her voice was soft as she replied, “Yes, Fireheart, I know. And I would give much to keep these kits. But how far will RiverClan go to take them? Will they fight? How many ThunderClan warriors would risk their lives for kits that are half-RiverClan?”

Fireheart's fur prickled with fear of the picture she painted. Clans at war over mewling kits—or ThunderClan split against itself as warriors fought among themselves. Was that the fate that StarClan had decreed for his Clan when Spottedleaf warned that water could quench fire? Perhaps it wasn't the floodwater that could destroy ThunderClan, but the cats that came from the territory by the river.

“Have courage, Fireheart,” urged Bluestar. “It hasn't come
to a battle just yet. I've won us time until the Gathering, and who knows what will happen before then?”

Fireheart couldn't share her confidence. The problem of the kits would not go away. But he could do nothing except bow his head respectfully and withdraw to the warriors' den.

And now, he thought despairingly, what am I going to tell Graystripe?

 

By the time Silverpelt stretched across the sky, the whole of ThunderClan seemed to know why the RiverClan cats had come. Fireheart guessed that Tigerclaw had told his favourite warriors, and they had spread the news to the rest of the Clan.

As Bluestar had predicted, opinions were divided. Many cats thought that the sooner the Clan was rid of these half-breed kits, the better. But there were still several who were prepared to fight, if only because to give up the kits would mean that RiverClan had won.

Through it all, Graystripe remained silent, brooding in the warriors' den. He left it only once to visit the nursery. When Fireheart brought him fresh-kill, he turned his head away. He hadn't eaten since Silverstream died, as far as Fireheart could tell, and he was looking gaunt and ill.

“Is there anything you can do for him?” Fireheart asked Yellowfang, going to her den as soon as he woke the following day. “He won't eat, he can't sleep….”

The old medicine cat shook her head. “There's no herb to heal a broken heart,” she murmured. “Only time will do that.”

“I feel so helpless,” Fireheart confessed.

“Your friendship helps,” Yellowfang rasped. “He might not realize it now, but one day he—”

She broke off as Cinderpaw appeared and dropped a bunch of herbs at Yellowfang's feet. “Are these the right ones?” she asked.

Yellowfang gave the herbs a quick sniff. “Yes, that's right,” she mewed. “You can't eat before the ceremony,” she added, “but I will. I'm too old and creaky to get to Highstones and back without something to keep me going.” She crouched in front of the herbs and began to gulp them down.

“Highstones?” Fireheart echoed. “Ceremony? Cinderpaw, what's going on?”

“It's the half moon tonight,” Cinderpaw mewed happily. “Yellowfang and I are going to Mothermouth so I can be made a proper apprentice.” She gave a joyful wriggle. Fireheart felt a wave of relief that she seemed to be over her despair after Silverstream's death, and was looking forward again to her new life as a medicine cat. Her eyes had recovered all their old sparkle, but there was a new wisdom and thoughtfulness in their blue depths now.

She was growing up, Fireheart thought, with an odd feeling of regret. His enthusiastic, sometimes scatterbrained apprentice was maturing into a cat of great inner strength and power. He knew he should rejoice in the path StarClan had chosen for her, but part of him wished that they could still go out together on the hunting trail. “I'll come with you tonight, if you like,” he offered. “As far as Fourtrees, anyway.”

“Oh, would you, Fireheart? Thank you!” Cinderpaw mewed.

“But no farther than Fourtrees,” warned Yellowfang, getting to her paws and swiping her tongue around her mouth. “Tonight at Mothermouth is for medicine cats only.” She gave herself a brisk shake and led the way through the ferns to the clearing.

As Fireheart followed behind Cinderpaw, he saw Cloudpaw washing himself by the tree stump outside the apprentices' den.

The white tom sprang up as soon as he saw Fireheart and raced across to him. “Where are you going?” he demanded. “Can I come?”

Fireheart glanced at Yellowfang, and when the old cat voiced no objection, he replied, “All right. It'll be a good exercise for you, and we can hunt on the way back.” Trotting up the ravine behind the she-cats, he explained to Cloudpaw where they were going, and how Yellowfang and Cinderpaw would carry on alone to Highstones. Deep within the tunnel known as Mothermouth was the Moonstone, which glittered dazzling white when the moon shone upon it. Cinderpaw's ceremony would take place in its unearthly light.

“What happens then?” Cloudpaw asked curiously.

“The ceremonies are secret,” growled Yellowfang. “So don't ask Cinderpaw when she comes back. She isn't allowed to tell you.”

“But every cat knows that she'll receive special powers from StarClan,” Fireheart added.

“Special powers!” Cloudpaw's eyes grew round, and he
gazed at Cinderpaw as if he expected her to start uttering prophecies there and then.

“Don't worry; I'll still be the same old Cinderpaw,” she assured him with an amused purr. “That won't ever change.”

The sun grew hot as the four cats made their way to Fourtrees. Fireheart was thankful for the deep shade under the trees and the cool freshness of long grass and clumps of fern as they brushed against his orange fur. All his senses were alert, and he kept Cloudpaw busy, scenting the air and reporting on what he could smell. Fireheart hadn't forgotten the attack from ShadowClan and WindClan. They had been defeated once, but that didn't mean they wouldn't try again to kill Brokentail. Besides that, Fireheart was half expecting trouble from RiverClan over Graystripe's kits. He sighed. On a beautiful morning like this, with fresh green on the trees and prey practically leaping out of the bushes and waiting to be caught, it was hard to be thinking of attacks and death.

In spite of his worries, the group of cats reached Fourtrees without trouble. As they slid through the bushes down into the hollow, Fireheart dropped back to match Cinderpaw's uneven steps. “Are you sure about what you're doing?” he asked quietly. “Is it what you really want?”

“Of course! Don't you see, Fireheart?” Cinderpaw's eyes searched his, suddenly serious. “I have to learn as much as I can so that no cat dies because I couldn't save them, like Silverstream.”

Fireheart flinched. He longed for a way to persuade his friend that Silverstream's death was not her fault, but he
knew he would be wasting his breath. “And will that make you happy? You know medicine cats can't ever have kits,” he reminded her, thinking of how Yellowfang had been forced to give up Brokentail and keep her bond with him a secret.

Cinderpaw purred to comfort him. “The whole Clan will be my kits,” she promised. “Even the warriors. Yellowfang says they have about as much sense as newborns sometimes!” She took a pace forward that brought her to Fireheart's side, and rubbed her face affectionately against his. “But you'll always be my best friend, Fireheart. I'll never forget you were my first mentor.”

Fireheart licked her ear. “Good-bye, Cinderpaw,” he mewed softly.

“I'm not going away forever,” Cinderpaw protested. “I'll be back by sunset tomorrow.”

But Fireheart knew that in some ways, Cinderpaw was going away forever. When she returned, she would have new powers and responsibilities, given to her not by a Clan leader, but by StarClan. Side by side, they crossed the hollow beneath the four massive oaks and climbed the far slope to where Yellowfang and Cloudpaw were already waiting. The vast open moor stretched in front of them, a cool wind bending the sturdy clumps of heather.

“Won't WindClan attack you if you go through their territory?” Cloudpaw mewed anxiously.

“All the Clans may pass through safely on the way to Highstones,” Yellowfang told him. “And no warrior would dare to attack medicine cats. StarClan forbid!” Turning to
Cinderpaw, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, I'm coming.” Cinderpaw gave Fireheart one final lick and followed the old cat out onto the springy moorland grass. The breeze ruffled her fur as she limped swiftly away without a backward glance.

Fireheart watched her go, his heart heavy. He knew his friend was at the beginning of a new and happier life, but all the same he could not stifle a pang of bittersweet regret for the life that could have been hers.

 

Fireheart watched the sun climbing the trees. “Tigerclaw wants me to send Cloudpaw on a solo hunting mission today,” he meowed to Graystripe.

The big gray warrior looked up in surprise. “That's early, isn't it? He's barely been made apprentice.”

Fireheart shrugged. “Tigerclaw thinks he's ready. He told me to follow him and see how he does, anyway. Would you like to come and help?”

It was the morning after Cinderpaw had returned from Mothermouth. Fireheart had met her as she slipped down the ravine in the twilight. Though she greeted him affectionately, they both knew she could not tell him what she had gone through. Her face still wore a look of rapture, and the moon itself seemed to shine from her eyes. Fireheart tried hard not to feel that he had lost her to an unknown path.