Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An agonized groan echoed across the moon-bleached floor of a forest clearing. Two cats crouched in the shadows under one of the bushes at the edge. One of them writhed in pain, lashing his long tail. The other cat raised himself to his paws and bowed his head. He had been a medicine cat for many long moons, and yet he could only watch helplessly as the leader of his Clan was overpowered by the sickness that had already claimed so many lives. He knew of no herb that would ease the cramps and fever this sickness brought, and his patchy gray fur bristled with frustration as the leader convulsed again and then fell exhausted into the moss-lined nest. Fearfully, the medicine cat leaned forward and sniffed. There was still breath in the leader’s body, but it was foul and shallow, and the tom’s thin flanks heaved with every gasp.

A screech ripped through the woods. Not a cat this time, but an owl. The medicine cat stiffened. Owls brought death to the forest, stealing prey and even kits that had strayed too far from their mothers. The medicine cat raised beseeching eyes to the sky, praying to the spirits of his warrior ancestors that the owl’s call was not an ill omen. He stared through the branches that formed the roof of the den, searching the dark sky for Silverpelt. But the swathe of stars where StarClan lived was hidden by clouds, and the medicine cat shivered with fear. Had their warrior ancestors abandoned them to the sickness that ravaged the camp?

Then the wind stirred the trees, rattling the brittle leaves. High above, the clouds shifted and a single star sent a frail beam of light through the roof of the den. In the shadows, the leader drew in a long, steady breath. Hope leaped like a fish in the medicine cat’s heart. StarClan was with them after all.

Weak with relief, the medicine cat lifted his chin, giving silent thanks to his warrior ancestors for sparing the life of his leader. As he narrowed his eyes against the shaft of starlight, he heard spirit-voices murmuring deep inside his head. They whispered of glorious battles to come, of new territories, and of a greater Clan rising from the ashes of the old. The medicine cat felt joy surge in his chest and pulsate through his paws. This star carried much more than a message of survival.

Suddenly, without warning, a wide gray wing swept across the ray of starlight three times, plunging the den into darkness. The medicine cat shrank back and pressed his belly to the floor as the owl screeched down and raked the roof of the den with its talons. It must have smelled the sickness that weakened the leader, and swooped in search of easy prey. But the branches were too thick for the owl to break through.

The medicine cat listened to the slow beating of wings as the owl flew away into the forest, then sat up, heart hammering, and searched the night sky once more. Like the owl, the star was gone. In its place was only blackness. Dread crawled beneath the medicine cat’s pelt and clutched at his heart.

“Did you hear that?” a tom called through the entrance of the den, his voice high-pitched with alarm. The medicine cat squeezed quickly out into the clearing, knowing the Clan would be waiting for an interpretation of the omen. Warriors, queens, and elders — those well enough to move from their nests — huddled in the shadows on the far side of the clearing. The medicine cat paused for a moment, listening to the Clan murmuring anxiously to one another.

“What’s an owl doing here?” hissed a mottled warrior, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

“They never come so close to the camp,” wailed an elder.

“Did it take any kits?” demanded another warrior, turning his broad head to the cat beside him.

“Not this time,” replied the silver queen. She had lost three of her kits to the sickness, and her voice was dull with pain. “But it might come back. It must smell our weakness.”

“You’d think the stench of death would keep it away.” A tabby warrior limped into the clearing. His paws were clotted with mud and his fur ruffled. He had been burying a Clan mate. There were more graves to be dug, but he was too weak to go on that night. “How’s our leader?” he asked, his voice tight with fear.

“We don’t know,” replied the mottled tom.

“Where’s the medicine cat?” whined the queen.

The cats peered around the clearing and the medicine cat saw their frightened eyes gleaming in the dark. He could hear the rising panic in their voices and knew they needed to be soothed, assured that StarClan had not abandoned them completely. Taking a deep breath, the cat forced the fur to lie flat on his shoulders and padded across the clearing.

“We don’t need a medicine cat to tell us the owl’s screech spoke of death,” whimpered an elder, his eyes brimming with fear.

“How do you know?” spat the mottled warrior.

“Yes,” agreed the queen, glancing at the elder. “StarClan doesn’t speak to you!” She turned as the medicine cat reached them. “Was the owl an omen?” she mewed anxiously.

Shifting his paws uncomfortably, the medicine cat avoided a direct reply. “StarClan has spoken to me tonight,” he announced. “Did you see the star shine between the clouds?”

The queen nodded, and around her the other cats’ eyes flickered with desperate hope. “What did it mean?” asked the elder.

“Will our leader live?” called the tabby warrior.

The medicine cat hesitated.

“He cannot die now!” cried the queen. “What about his nine lives? StarClan granted them only six moons ago!”

“There is only so much strength StarClan can give,” answered the medicine cat. “But our ancestors have not forgotten us,” he went on, trying to push aside the image of the owl’s dark wing as it blotted out the thin ray of light for the final time. “The star brought a message of hope.”

A high-pitched moan sounded from a dim corner of the camp, and a tortoiseshell queen sprang up and hurried toward the sound. The others continued to stare at the medicine cat with eyes that begged for comfort.

“Did StarClan speak of rain?” asked a young warrior. “It’s been so long since it rained, and it might cleanse the camp of the sickness.”

The medicine cat shook his head. “Not of rain, but of a great new dawn that awaits our Clan. In that ray of light, our warrior ancestors showed me the future, and it will be glorious!”

“Then we’ll survive?” mewed the silver queen.

“We’ll do more than survive,” the medicine cat promised. “We shall rule the whole forest!”

Murmurs of relief flickered through the cats, the first purrs that had been heard in the camp for nearly a moon. But the medicine cat turned his head away to hide his trembling whiskers. He prayed that the Clan would not ask again about the owl. He dared not share the dreadful warning StarClan had added when the bird’s wing had obscured the star — that the Clan would pay the highest possible price for their great new dawn.

*  *  *  *  *

Once the medicine cat turned away, five cats peeled away from the meeting, slipping into the shadows.

One of them, a large white tom with jet-black paws was the first to speak. “Are you sure that you’re willing to do this?”

A very small tabby tom answered. “Of course, Blackfoot. ShadowClan needs more help if it is to survive.”

The cat next to him, a black tom with white paws and a white-furred chest, added, “We can do this.”

“Very well,” Blackfoot meowed. “Littlecloud, Whitethroat, all of ShadowClan thanks you for your courage.”

“It’s not that much courage,” Whitethroat told him. Pointing his tail at the other cats with them, a dark gray tom and a mottled ginger-and-brown tom, he continued, “Scorchfur and Redwillow have already promised that ThunderClan will discover the cure for this plague.”

Redwillow met his gaze. “It won’t be that easy. ThunderClan will not let you stay in their camp, while you are sick. They will send you away, and you will have to rely on the disobedient stealth of their newest medicine cat.”

“Ironic,” Scorchfur muttered. “At any other time, ThunderClan can’t resist inviting strangers to join them, but the one time we actually ask for their help, they will refuse.”

“We understand that,” Littlecloud meowed. “We’re willing to do whatever it takes to help our Clan. And once we succeed, Runningnose will finally let me become a medicine cat like I’ve always wanted.”

The meeting of the rest of their Clanmates came to an end, and cats began to return to their dens. Blackfoot’s ears twitched. “Quickly, you must go now, before any cat realizes what you are doing. We will make sure that no one thinks you’ve abandoned them. May StarClan light your path.”

Littlecloud and Whitethroat gave him a nod, dipping their heads. Then, as one, they turned and slowly limped through the camp entrance, disappearing into the shadows.

Blackfoot was left alone with Scorchfur and Redwillow.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Scorchfur asked him. "They won't believe that you've been cast out if you try to tell them."

"Our former Clanmates aren't the ones I need to convice," Blackfoot sighed. "We need to bring them back if ShadowClan is going to survive, and you've already said that I came back with them."

Redwillow snorted. "You came back with them because before, you didn't have the sense to fight back against Brokenstar. This time, you will be helping your Clanmates realize that they are needed, even if the rest of the Clan doesn't believe it."

"And my story will be convincing if they hear it before any other cat," Blackfoot meowed. "I will save my Clan or give my lives trying."

Scorchfur gazed at him, his gaze respectful. "In our time, you've already done that, more than once. Once you stopped giving in to bad influences, you were an excellent leader."

"The best ShadowClan has had in seasons," Redwillow added. "Every cat respects you."

"But I don't want to be leader," Blackfoot growled. "I just want to be the best cat I can be for my Clan. And if StarClan decides that I must once again take on the role of our Clan's leader, so be it."

Chapter Text

Warm shafts of sun shine streamed through the canopy of leaves and flickered over Fireheart’s pelt. He crouched lower, aware that his coat would be glowing amber among the lush green undergrowth.

Paw by paw, he crept beneath a fern. He could smell a pigeon. He moved slowly toward the mouthwatering scent until he could see the plump bird pecking among the ferns.

Fireheart flexed his claws, his paws itching with anticipation. He was hungry after leading the dawn patrol and hunting all morning. This was the high season for prey, a time for the Clan to grow fat on the forest’s bounty. And although there had been little rain since the newleaf floods, the woods were rich with food. After stocking the fresh-kill pile back at camp, it was time for Fireheart to hunt for himself. He tensed his muscles, ready to leap.

Suddenly a second scent wafted toward him on the dry breeze. Fireheart opened his mouth, tipping his head to one side. The pigeon must have smelled it too, for its head shot up and it began to unfold its wings, but it was too late. A rush of white fur shot out from under some brambles. Fireheart stared in surprise as the cat pounced on the startled bird, pinning it to the ground with his front paws before finishing it off with a swift bite to the neck.

The delicious smell of fresh-kill filled Fireheart’s nostrils. He stood up and padded out of the undergrowth toward the fluffy white tom. “Well caught, Cloudpaw,” he meowed. “I didn’t see you coming until it was too late.”

“Nor did this stupid bird,” crowed Cloudpaw, flicking his tail smugly.

Fireheart felt his shoulders tense. Cloudpaw was his apprentice as well as his sister’s son. It was Fireheart’s responsibility to teach him the skills of a Clan warrior and how to respect the warrior code. The young tom was undeniably a good hunter, but Fireheart couldn’t help wishing that he would learn a little humility. Deep down, he sometimes wondered if Cloudpaw would ever understand the importance of the warrior code, the moons-old traditions of loyalty and ritual that had been passed down through generations of cats in the forest.

But Cloudpaw had been born in Twolegplace to Fireheart’s kittypet sister, Princess, and brought to ThunderClan by Fireheart as a tiny kit. Fireheart knew from his own bitter experience that Clan cats had no respect for kittypets. Fireheart had spent his first six moons living with Twolegs, and there were cats in his Clan that would never let him forget the fact that he was not forest-bom. He twitched his ears impatiently. He knew he did everything he could to prove his loyalty to the Clan, but his stubborn apprentice was a different matter. If Cloudpaw was going to win any sympathy from his Clanmates, he was going to have to lose some of his arrogance.

“It’s just as well you’re so quick,” Fireheart pointed out. “You were upwind. I could smell you, even if I couldn’t see you. And so could the bird.”

Cloudpaw’s long snowy fur bristled and he snapped back, “I know I was upwind! But I could tell this dumb dove wasn’t going to be hard to catch whether he smelled me or not.”

The young cat stared defiantly into Fireheart’s eyes, and Fireheart felt his annoyance turning to anger. “It’s a pigeon, not a dove!” he spat. “And a true warrior shows more respect for the prey that feeds his Clan.”

“Yeah, right!” retorted Cloudpaw. “I didn’t see Thornpaw show much respect for that squirrel he dragged back to camp yesterday. He said it was so dopey, a kit could have caught it. And he’s older than me!”

“Thornpaw is just an apprentice,” Fireheart growled. “Like you, he still has a lot to learn.”

“Well, I caught it, didn’t I?” grumbled Cloudpaw, prodding the pigeon with a sullen paw.

“There’s more to being a warrior than catching pigeons!”

“I’m faster than Brightpaw and stronger than Thornpaw,” Cloudpaw spat back. “What more do you want?”

“Your denmates would know that a warrior never attacks with the wind behind him!” Fireheart knew he shouldn’t let himself be drawn into an argument, but his apprentice’s stubbornness infuriated him like a tick on his ear.

“Big deal. You might have been downwind like a good warrior, but I got to the pigeon first!” Cloudpaw raised his voice in an angry yowl.

“Be quiet,” Fireheart hissed, suddenly distracted. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. The forest seemed strangely silent, and Cloudpaw’s loud meows were echoing too loudly through the trees.

“What’s the matter?” Cloudpaw glanced around. “I can’t smell anything.”

“Neither can I,” Fireheart admitted.

“So what are you worried about?”

“Tigerclaw,” Fireheart answered bluntly. The dark warrior had been prowling through his dreams since Bluestar had banished him from the Clan a quarter moon ago. Tigerclaw had tried to kill the ThunderClan leader, but Fireheart had stopped him and exposed his long-hidden treachery to the whole Clan. The dark warrior had been banished, and another warrior, Stripestalk had betrayed ThunderClan to go with him. There had been no sign of either Tigerclaw or Stripestalk since, but Fireheart felt icy claws of fear pricking at his heart now as he listened to the stillness of the forest. It seemed to be listening too, holding its breath, and Tigerclaw’s parting words echoed in Fireheart’ s mind: Keep your eyes open, Fireheart. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day I’ll find you, and then you ’ll be crowfood.

Cloudpaw’s mew broke the silence. “What would Tigerclaw be doing around here?” he scoffed. “Bluestar exiled him!”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed. “And only StarClan knows where he went. But Tigerclaw made it clear that we’d not seen the last of him!”

“I’m not scared of that traitor.”

“Well, you should be!” hissed Fireheart. “Tigerclaw knows these woods as well as any cat in ThunderClan. He’d tear you to shreds if he got the chance. And Stripestalk is with him. Even you can’t fight two full-grown warriors at once.”

Cloudpaw snorted and circled his catch impatiently. “You’ve been no fun since Bluestar made you deputy. I’m not hanging around if you’re just going to waste the morning trying to scare me with nursery tales. I’m meant to be hunting for the Clan elders.” And he dashed away into the brambles, leaving the lifeless pigeon lying on the earth.

“Cloudpaw, come back!” Fireheart yowled furiously. Then he shook his head. “Let Tigerclaw have the young mouse-brained idiot!” he muttered to himself.

Lashing his tail, he snatched up the pigeon and wondered whether to carry it back to camp for Cloudpaw. A warrior should be responsible for his own fresh-kill, he concluded, and tossed the pigeon into a thick clump of grass. He padded after it and flattened down the green stalks to cover the fat bird, wishing he could be sure that Cloudpaw would return and take it back with the rest of his catch to the hungry elders. If he doesn’t bring it home with him, he can go hungry until he does, Fireheart decided. His apprentice had to learn that even in greenleaf, prey should never be wasted.

The sun rose higher, scorching the earth and sucking moisture from the leaves on the trees. Fireheart pricked his ears. The forest was still eerily quiet, as if its creatures were hiding till the evening shade brought relief from another day of glaring heat. The stillness unnerved him, and a flicker of doubt tugged at his belly. Perhaps he should go and find Cloudpaw after all.

You tried to warn him about Tigerclaw! Fireheart could almost hear the familiar voice of his best friend, Graystripe, echoing in his head, and he winced as bittersweet memories flooded through him. It was exactly the sort of thing the former ThunderClan warrior would say to him right now. They had trained together as apprentices and fought beside each other until love and tragedy had torn them apart. Graystripe had fallen in love with a she-cat from another Clan, but if Silverstream had not almost died in her kitting, perhaps Graystripe would have stayed with ThunderClan. Once more Fireheart remembered Graystripe carrying his two kits into RiverClan territory, taking them to join their mother’s Clan. Fireheart’s shoulders sagged. He missed the companionship of Graystripe and still silently shared words with him almost every day. He knew his old friend so well, it was always easy to imagine what Graystripe would say in reply.

Fireheart shook away the memories with a flick of his ears. It was time he got back to camp. He was the deputy of ThunderClan now, and there were hunting parties and patrols to organize. Cloudpaw would have to manage alone.

The ground was dry underpaw as Fireheart raced through the woods to the top of the ravine where the camp lay. He hesitated for a moment and enjoyed the surge of pride and affection he always felt as he approached his forest home. Even though he had spent his kithood in Twolegplace, he had known since the first time he had ventured into the forest that this was where he truly belonged.

Below him, the ThunderClan camp was well hidden by thick brambles. Bounding down the steep slope, Fireheart followed the well-worn path to the gorse tunnel that led into the camp.

The pale gray queen, Willowpelt, lay at the entrance to the nursery, warming her swollen belly in the morning sun. Until recently she had shared the warriors’ den. Now she lived in the nursery with the other queens while she waited for her first litter to be born.

Beside her, Brindleface affectionately watched two of her kits as they tussled on the hard earth, scuffing up small clouds of dust. They had been Cloudpaw’s adopted littermates. When Fireheart had brought his sister’s firstborn into the Clan, Brindleface had agreed to suckle the helpless kit. Cloudpaw had recently been made an apprentice, along with the three young cats he’d been raised with. All four of them seemed to still have some maturity to grow into, but it was good to see them happy.

Farther away, Cinderheart and Lionblaze’s kits, Hollykit and Honeykit, were sniffing at Speckletail new kit Snowkit. They clearly wanted to play with him, but he was too little and weak, and Speckletail shooed them away.

A murmur of voices drew Fireheart’s gaze toward the Highrock, which stood at the head of the clearing. A group of warriors was gathered in the shadows beneath the rock on which Bluestar, the leader of ThunderClan, normally stood to address her Clan. Fireheart recognized Darkstripe’s tabby pelt, the lithe shape of Runningwind, and Whitestorm’s snowy head among them.

As Fireheart padded silently across the baked earth, Darkstripe’s querulous meow sounded above the other voices. “So who’s going to lead the patrol at sunhigh?”

“Fireheart will decide when he returns from hunting,” Whitestorm answered calmly. The elderly warrior was clearly reluctant to be stirred by Darkstripe’s hostile tone.

“He should be back by now,” complained Dustpelt, a brown tabby who had been an apprentice at the same time as Fireheart. His voice didn’t have much bite though, and his shoulders drooped. He had been very close to Stripestalk, and it had rocked him when she had chosen to leave with her snake-hearted uncle.

“I am back,” Fireheart announced. He shouldered his way through the warriors to sit down beside Whitestorm.

“Well, now that you’re here, are you going to tell us who’s going to lead the patrol at sunhigh?” meowed Darkstripe. The silver tabby turned a cold gaze on Fireheart.

Fireheart felt hot under his fur, in spite of the shade cast by the Highrock. Darkstripe had been closer to Tigerclaw than any other cat, and Fireheart couldn’t help wondering about the depth of his loyalty, even though Darkstripe had chosen to stay when his former ally was exiled. “Longtail will lead the patrol,” Fireheart meowed.

Slowly Darkstripe switched his gaze from Fireheart to Whitestorm, his whiskers twitching and his eyes glittering with scorn. Fireheart swallowed nervously, wondering if he had said something stupid.

“Er, Longtail’s out with his apprentice,” explained Runningwind, looking awkward. “He and Swiftpaw won’t be back till evening, remember?” Beside him, Dustpelt snorted scornfully.

Fireheart gritted his teeth. I should have known that! “Runningwind, then. You can take Brackenfur and Dustpelt with you.”

“Brackenfur’ll never keep up with us,” meowed Dustpelt. “He’s still limping from the battle with the rogue cats.”

“Okay, okay.” Fireheart tried to disguise his mounting agitation, but he couldn’t help feeling he was just plucking names at random as he ordered, “Brackenfur can go hunting with Mousefur and. . .and. . .”

“Tulippaw and I’d like to hunt with them,” Sandstorm offered with a smile. “It’ll be good practice.”

Fireheart blinked gratefully at the orange she-cat and went on. “...and Sandstorm.”

“What about the patrol? It’ll be past sunhigh if we don’t decide soon!” meowed Darkstripe.

“You can join Runningwind on patrol,” snapped Fireheart.

“And the evening patrol?” Mousefur asked mildly. Fireheart stared back at the dusky brown she-cat, his mind suddenly blank.

Whitestorm’s rusty mew sounded beside Fireheart. “I’d like to lead the evening patrol,” he meowed. “Do you think Swiftpaw and Longtail would like to come with me when they return?”

“Yes, of course.” Fireheart looked around the circle of eyes and was relieved to see that they all seemed satisfied. “Nutfur and Ivypool can go too.”

The cats moved away, leaving Fireheart alone with Whitestorm. “Thanks,” he meowed, dipping his head to the old warrior. “I guess I should have planned the patrols before now.”

“It’ll get easier,” Whitestorm reassured him. “We have all grown used to Tigerclaw telling us exactly what to do and when.”

Fireheart glanced away, his heart sinking.

“They’re also bound to be more edgy than usual,” Whitestorm went on. “Tigerclaw’s treachery has shaken the whole Clan.”

Fireheart looked at the white warrior and understood that Whitestorm was trying to encourage him. It was easy to forget that Tigerclaw’s actions had come as a massive shock to the rest of the Clan. Fireheart had known for a long time that Tigerclaw’s hunger for power had driven him to murder and lies. But the other cats had found it hard to believe that the fearless warrior would turn against his own Clan. Whitestorm’s words reminded Fireheart that, even if he did not yet have Tigerclaw’s confident authority, he would never betray his Clan as Tigerclaw had done.

Whitestorm’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I must go and see Nighthunter. She said there was something she wanted to talk to me about.” He dipped his head. The warrior’s respectful gesture took Fireheart by surprise, and he nodded awkwardly in reply.

As he watched Whitestorm leave, Fireheart’ s belly growled with hunger and he thought of the juicy pigeon Cloudpaw had caught. Whitestorm’s ginger-and-white apprentice, Brightpaw, sat outside the apprentices’ den, and Fireheart wondered if she’d brought the elders any fresh-kill. He padded over to the old tree stump where she was washing her tail. She lifted her head and mewed, “Hello, Fireheart.”

“Hi, Brightpaw. Been hunting?” Fireheart asked.

“Yes,” replied Brightpaw, her eyes shining. “It’s the first time Whitestonn’s let me out by myself.”

“Catch much?”

Brightpaw looked shyly at her paws. “Two sparrows and a squirrel.”

“Well done,” Fireheart purred. “I bet Whitestorm was pleased.”

Brightpaw nodded.

“Did you take it straight to the elders?”

“Yes.” Brightpaw’ s eyes clouded with worry. “Was that okay?” she mewed anxiously.

“That was great,” Fireheart assured her. If only his own apprentice were so reliable. Cloudpaw should have been back by now. The elders would need more than two sparrows and a squirrel to fill their bellies. He decided to visit them to check that they were not suffering too much from the greenleaf heat. As he approached the fallen oak where the elders made their den, voices drifted up from behind its bare branches.

“Willowpelt’s kits will be born soon.” That was Speckletail. She was the oldest queen in the nursery, and her single kit was weak and small for its age after a bout of whitecough.

“New kits are always a good omen,” purred One-Eye.

“StarClan knows we could do with a good omen,” Smallear muttered darkly.

Fireheart left them to continue their conversation, deciding it would be nice to visit Hollykit and Honeykit. As he approached the nursery, Fireheart stared at the ground, lost in thought. A sudden movement outside the nursery entrance made him look up. He froze, and his heart began to pound as he recognized Tigerclaw’ s amber eyes gleaming at him. Horrified by the familiar gaze, Fireheart blinked in alarm. Then he realized that it was not the fierce warrior he was looking at, but Bramblekit — Tigerclaw’s son.

Fireheart saw a ripple of pale amber fur and looked up to see Goldenflower slip out of the nursery behind the dark tabby kit. A pale ginger kit dangled from her jaws, and she placed it gently on the ground next to Bramblekit. Fireheart knew at once that Goldenflower had seen his reaction, for the pale ginger queen wrapped her tail protectively around her kits and lifted her chin, as if she were challenging Fireheart to say something.

Fireheart felt a rush of guilt. What was he thinking of? He was the Clan deputy, for StarClan’s sake! He knew he had to reassure Goldenflower that these kits would be cared for and respected like any other member’s of ThunderClan. “Your. . .your kits look healthy,” he stammered, but his fur prickled as the dark tabby kit stared up at him with unblinking amber eyes, the image of Tigerclaw’s menacing glare.

Fireheart tried to push away the fear and anger that made him instinctively unsheathe his claws and press them against the hard ground. It was Tigerclaw who betrayed ThunderClan, he told himself. Not this tiny kit.

“It’s Tawnykit’s first time out of the nursery,” Goldenflower told him. She glanced anxiously down at the little kit.

“They’ve grown quickly,” Fireheart murmured.

Goldenflower leaned down and licked each kit on the head, then padded toward Fireheart. “I understand how you feel,” she mewed quietly. “Your eyes have always betrayed your heart. But these are my kits and I will die to protect them if I have to.” She looked up into Fireheart’s eyes and he saw the intensity of her feeling in their yellow depths.

“I’m afraid for them, Fireheart,” she went on. “The Clan will never forgive Tigerclaw — nor should they. But Bramblekit and Tawnykit have done nothing wrong, and I will not let them be punished because of Tigerclaw. I’m not even going to tell them who their father was, just that he was a brave and powerful warrior.”

Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for the troubled queen. “They will be safe here,” he promised, but the amber eyes of Bramblekit still made his paws prickle with unease as Goldenflower turned away.

Honeykit came bounding over. “They’re out of the nursery at last!” he squealed with excitement. He promptly leaped on top of Tawnykit, bowling her to the ground.

She let out an indignant squeak and Goldenflower frowned at the golden-furred kit. “Be gentle, Honeykit. Tawnykit is smaller and younger than you.”

“She’s not that much younger,” Honeykit protested. “And she should be bigger. Tigerclaw is her father.”

“So what if Tigerclaw is our father,” Bramblekit demanded, shoving Honeykit away from his sister. “We might be small cats.”

Cinderheart snorted. “No, you will not.” The gray tabby she-cat, along with Lionblaze, Jayfeather, Ivypool, and Dovewing, was a ThunderClan warrior from the future. The time travelers weren’t often forthcoming with information, but they didn’t mind sharing small bits, like the fact that Bramblekit would apparently grow up to be a large warrior like his father. The knowledge didn’t particularly make Fireheart feel reassured.

Behind them, Whitestorm padded back over to the nursery to join Fireheart. “Nighthunter thinks Lightpaw and Swiftpaw are ready to be warriors,” he told him.

“Does Bluestar know?” Fireheart asked.

Whitestorm shook his head. “Nighthunter wanted to share the news with Bluestar herself, but she hasn’t hasn’t left her in days.”

Fireheart frowned. The Clan leader usually took an interest in every aspect of Clan life, especially the nursery. Every cat knew how important it was for ThunderClan to have fine, healthy kits.

“I suppose it’s not surprising,” Whitestorm continued. “She’s still recovering from her wounds after the battle with the rogue cats.”

“Shall I go and tell her now?” Fireheart offered.

“Yes. Some good news might cheer her up,” Whitestorm remarked.

With a jolt, Fireheart realized that Whitestorm was as worried as he was about their leader. “I’m sure it will,” he agreed. “ThunderClan hasn’t had a new warrior in moons, and we still have plenty of apprentices.”

“That reminds me,” meowed Whitestonn, his eyes suddenly brightening. “Where’s Cloudpaw? I thought he was fetching prey for the elders.”

Fireheart glanced away awkwardly. “Er, yes, he is. I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

Whitestorm lifted a massive paw and gave it a lick. “The woods are not as safe as they once were,” he murmured, as if he could read Fireheart’s uneasy thoughts. “Don’t forget WindClan and ShadowClan are still angry with us for sheltering Brokentail. They don’t know yet that Brokentail is dead, and they might attack us again.”

Brokentail had once been the leader of ShadowClan. He had nearly destroyed the other Clans in the forest with his greed for more territory. ThunderClan had helped to drive Brokentail out of his troubled Clan, but had later given him sanctuary as a blind and helpless prisoner — a merciful decision that had not been welcomed by his former enemies.

Fireheart knew that Whitestorm was warning him as carefully as possible — the warrior hadn’t even mentioned the possibility that Tigerclaw might still be around — but his guilt at letting Cloudpaw go off alone made him defensive. “You let Brightpaw hunt alone this morning,” he retorted.

“Yes. I told her to stay in the ravine and to be back by sunhigh.” Whitestorm’s tone was mild, but he stopped washing his paw and looked at Fireheart with concern in his eyes. “I hope Cloudpaw won’t go too far from the camp.”

Fireheart looked away and muttered, “I should go and tell Bluestar the apprentices are ready.”

“Good idea,” answered Whitestorm. “I can take Brightpaw out for some training. She hunts well, but her fighting skills need some work.”

Cinderheart pricked her ears. “When Cloudpaw gets back, you could have them train together. He’s already a brilliant fighter.”

Whitestorm dipped his head. “That’s an excellent suggestion.”

Silently cursing Cloudpaw, Fireheart padded away toward the Highrock. Outside Bluestar’s den, he gave his ears a quick wash and put Cloudpaw out of his mind before calling a greeting through the lichen that draped the entrance. A soft “Enter” sounded from inside, and Fireheart pushed his way slowly in.

It was cool in the small cave, hollowed out of the base of the Highrock by an ancient stream. The sunlight that filtered through the lichen made the walls glow warmly. Bluestar sat quietly in her nest, her tail curled around her paws.

The Clan leader raised her eyes as Fireheart entered, and he was relieved to see a spark of interest when she saw him.

“Fireheart,” she greeted him, sitting up and lifting her chin. She held her broad gray head with the same dignity Fireheart had admired when he first met her in the woods near his old Twoleg home. It was Bluestar who had invited him to join the Clan, and her faith in him had quickly established a special bond between them.

“Bluestar,” he began, respectfully dipping his head. “Whitestorm was talking to Nighthunter today. She told him Lightpaw and Swiftpaw are ready to become warriors.”

Bluestar slowly widened her eyes. “Already?” she murmured.

Fireheart waited for Bluestar to start giving orders for the warrior ceremony. But the she-cat just narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“Er. . .aren’t you going to start the ceremony?” he prompted.

Bluestar shook her head with amusement. “Longtail and Swiftpaw are still out training. We can’t make a new warrior when that warrior is out in the forest.”

Fireheart’s fur began to prickle with embarrassment.

Laughter and sympathy glinted in her blue eyes. “You will get the hang of this,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t have chosen you to be deputy if I didn’t think you were capable. Perhaps if Graystripe had stayed…”

Fireheart flinched, too saddened to answer. The leader’s eyes flashed. “It is a sign of a good parent to sacrifice for their kits,” she sighed. “I chose to be a good deputy and leader. I put my Clan above everything.”

Fireheart shook his head, his sadness turning to sympathy. “You made the choice that you thought was best for your Clan and your kits. Like you told me, RiverClan had more prey than any of the other Clans did. Who’s to say that they wouldn’t have died anyway if they stayed.”

Fireheart leaned forward, willing Bluestar to answer. At last the she-cat nodded her head briskly and lifted her eyes to Fireheart. With a wave of relief he saw the tension leave her shoulders. She was calmer now. “We’ll have the naming ceremony before we eat this evening, after Longtail and Swiftpaw return,” she meowed, as if she had never doubted it.

“So what do you want to name them?” Fireheart asked curiously. He felt a tremor ripple through his tail as Bluestar stiffened again and her gaze darted thoughtfully around the cave. Did Clan leaders ever share the names they had chosen in advance?

“You decide.”

Her reply was surprisingly cheerful, and Fireheart couldn’t help but feel confused. He tilted his head and meowed, “Are you sure, Bluestar,” before backing out of the den.

She nodded. “I won’t be around forever. You will be ThunderClan’s next leader, and it will be your responsibility to name the warriors then. It won’t hurt you to get some practice.”

“Th-thank you, Bluestar,” he purred shakily. He knew how much trust she was placing in him now, and he wouldn’t let her down.

He sat in the shade of the Highrock for a moment to gather his thoughts. Fireheart ducked his head to give his chest a reassuring lick. It was barely a quarter moon since the attack by the rogue cats. Bluestar would recover and she would be stronger than ever, he told himself. She would name plenty more warriors.

Chapter Text

Fireheart flexed his shoulder muscles and padded toward the nursery for the second time. “Hi, Willowpelt,” he meowed as he reached the queen. The pale gray she-cat was lying on her side outside the thicket of brambles that sheltered the kits, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

She lifted her head as Fireheart stopped beside her. “Hi, Fireheart. How’s life as a deputy?” Her eyes were gently curious and her voice was friendly, not challenging.

“Fine,” Fireheart told her. Or it would be, if I didn’t have a pain in the neck for an apprentice, he thought with frustration, or a dangerous traitor roaming around the forest seeking revenge.

“Glad to hear it,” purred Willowpelt. She twisted her head to wash her back.

“Is Cinderheart around?” Fireheart asked.

“She’s inside,” Willowpelt meowed between licks.

“Thanks.” Fireheart pushed his way into the brambles. It was surprisingly bright inside. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the twisted branches, and Fireheart told himself he would have to get the holes patched before the cold winds of leaf-fail.

His fur prickled as the breeze carried the odor of Tigerclaw’s tabby kit to his scent glands. “Where’s Goldenflower?” he asked Cinderheart, more sharply than he intended.

Her eyes widened. “She’s taken her kits to meet the elders,” she replied. She narrowed her eyes at Fireheart. “You recognize Tigerclaw in his son, don’t you?”

Fireheart nodded uncomfortably.

“Believe me when I tell you that he is not Tigerclaw,” Cinderheart assured him. “He’s gentle enough with the other kits, and his sister certainly keeps him in his place!” Nodding down at a sleeping Honeykit, she added, “It’s this one you have to watch out for. He hasn’t figured out that he’s the biggest kit in the nursery and keeps trying to flatten Tawnykit and Snowkit”

“How can I trust Bramblekit when he looks so much like his father?” Fireheart questioned. “I’ve spent so much time trying to expose the truth, it’s hard to let go.”

Cinderheart flicked his muzzle with her tail. “Besides the fact that in a few moons he will actively reject Tigerclaw at a Gathering, you should trust him because he’s loyal. In fact, he’s one of the most loyal cats in ThunderClan. He has spent his entire life trying to prove that he is not his father, even when it seems that he has to fight alone.”

“Can you tell me anything specific?” These vague descriptions weren’t easing his conflicted feelings.

Hollykit, who had been placing scraps of leaf on her brother’s pelt, decided it was her turn to answer the question. “Ooh, how about the time he and Tawnykit, your daughter, Graystripe’s kits, and some random WindClan cat saved all four Clans from Twolegs? Or the time he and Tawnykit and a bunch of other apprentices killed the BloodClan deputy and then chased a treacherous rogue away from Fourtrees? Or the time–”

“Enough, Hollykit,” Cinderheart shushed. “You aren’t supposed to tell your bedtime stories to the warriors. Besides, I’m sure Heathertail won’t be thrilled to hear you calling her mentor ‘some random WindClan cat’.”

The black kit smiled innocently. “Well, I can’t just say that he was my grandfather. That would give it away too soon.”

“Excuse me?” Fireheart had known that his grandkids were half-WindClan, but somehow he hadn’t expected to learn the tom had been a hero.

Cinderheart rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you see if you can find Snowkit?” she suggested. “You promised to teach him tail signals.”

“Okay!” Hollykit purred. “Once I do that, then Dovewing can teach him paw stomps so he attack any hawks that come after him.” Turning to Fireheart she added, “I told you Cinderheart’s bedtime stories. You get to tell me one some time.” She scampered off, purring so loudly that Honeykit stirred for a heartbeat, before going back to sleep.”

“I promise we didn’t mean for you to find out like that,” Cinderheart sighed. “But we don’t want to worry with things that won’t become problems until after our current problems have all been solved.”

“I understand,” he assured her. “Kits can be impulsive. Just like how Lightpaw and Swiftpaw followed Marigoldpaw and Mintpaw to rescue their denmates from ShadowClan.”

Cinderheart purred. “They’ve grown up quite a bit.”

“And they’ve suffered so much.”

“Suffering is a fact of life.” As she spoke, Cinderheart looked toward her hind leg, the same one that Cinderpelt had injured on the Thunderpath. “Everyone has to get used to it, or pain will overwhelm you. Especially if that pain is caused by secrets.”

Fireheart winced. “The secrets I kept caused lots of pain for the Clan.”

She snarled. “That wasn’t your fault. Tigerclaw caused that pain. He is the only monster in his family.”

“What about Stripestalk?” He didn’t understand why she had left with Tigerclaw.

“Perhaps she’s letting her own grief cloud her judgement,” Cinderheart suggested. “She could always come back in the future.”

“Well, that’s good to think about. I hope you’re right.” Fireheart turned away. “I’ll see you later at the ceremony,” he meowed as he pushed his way back through the entrance.

“Does this mean Bluestar’s decided when the naming ceremony should be?” Willowpelt called over to him when he appeared outside.

“Yes,” he answered.

“When will it. . .?”

But Fireheart trotted away before he could hear the rest of Willowpelt’s question. News of the naming ceremony would spread through the camp like forest fire, and every cat would want to know the same thing. Fireheart would have to decide soon, but his nostrils were still filled with the scent of Bramblekit, and the confusion Hollykit had planted, and his mind whirled as dark thoughts unfolded sinister wings within him.

Instinctively he headed for the fern tunnel that led to the medicine cat’s clearing. Yellowfang’s apprentice, Cinderpelt, would be there. Now that Graystripe had gone to live with RiverClan, Cinderpelt was Fireheart’s closest friend. He knew that the gentle gray she-cat would be able to make sense of the confused emotions that seethed in his heart.

Pausing, he realized that he could have talked to Sandstorm too, but the idea of seeming stupid or worried in front of her made his insides curl.

He quickened his pace through the cool ferns and emerged into the sunlit clearing. At one end loomed the flat face of a tall rock, split down the center. The niche in the middle of the stone was just large enough for Yellowfang to make her den and store her healing herbs.

Fireheart was about to call when Cinderpelt limped out from the shadowy cleft in the rock. As ever, delight at seeing his friend was tempered by the pain of seeing the twisted hind leg that had prevented her from becoming a warrior. The young she-cat had been badly injured when she’d run onto the Thunderpath. Fireheart couldn’t help feeling responsible, because Cinderpelt had been his apprentice when the accident happened. But as she recovered under the watchful eye of the Clan’s medicine cat, Yellowfang had begun to teach her how to care for sick cats, taking her on as apprentice a moon and a half ago. Cinderpelt had chosen her place in the Clan at last.

A large bunch of herbs dangled from Cinderpelt’s jaws as she limped into the clearing. Her face was creased in a worried frown, and she didn’t even notice Fireheart standing at the tunnel entrance. She dropped the bundle on the sun-baked ground and began sorting fretfully though the leaves with her forepaws.

“Cinderpelt?” he meowed.

The little cat glanced up, surprised. “Fireheart! What are you doing here? Are you sick?”

Fireheart shook his head. “No. Is everything okay?”

Cinderpelt looked dejectedly at the pile of leaves in front of her, and Fireheart padded over and gave her a nuzzle. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you spilled mouse bile in Yellowfang’s nest again?”

“No!” replied Cinderpelt indignantly. Then she lowered her eyes. “I should never have agreed to train as a medicine cat. I’m a disaster. I should have read the signs when I found that rotting bird!”

Fireheart remembered the moment that had happened after his naming ceremony. Cinderpelt had chosen a magpie from the fresh-kill pile to give to Bluestar, only to find that, beneath its soft feathers, it was crawling with maggots.

“Did Yellowfang think that was an omen about you?” Fireheart asked.

“Well, no,” Cinderpaw admitted.

“So what makes you think you’re not cut out to be a medicine cat?” He tried not to let his mind dwell on the fact that the rotting magpie could have been an omen about another cat — his leader, Bluestar.

Cinderpelt flicked her tail with frustration. “Yellowfang asked me to mix a poultice for her. Just a simple one for cleansing wounds. It was one of the first things she ever taught me, but now I’ve forgotten which herbs to put in it. She’s going to think I’m an idiot!” Her voice rose to a wail and her blue eyes were huge and troubled.

“You’re no idiot, and Yellowfang knows it,” Fireheart told her robustly.

“But it’s not the first dumb thing I’ve done lately. Yesterday I had to ask her the difference between foxglove and poppy seeds.” Cinderpelt hung her head even lower. “Yellowfang said I was a danger to the Clan.”

“Oh, you know what Yellowfang’s like,” Fireheart reassured her. “She’s always saying things like that.” Yellowfang had been ShadowClan’s medicine cat and, although she had become part of ThunderClan after being exiled by their cruel leader, Brokentail, she still betrayed flashes of the fierce temper of a ShadowClan warrior. But one of the reasons she and Cinderpelt got on so well was that Cinderpelt was more than capable of standing up to Yellowfang’s irritable outbursts.

Cinderpelt sighed. “I don’t think I’ve got what it takes to become a medicine cat. I thought I was doing the right thing, becoming Yellowfang’s apprentice, but it’s no good. I just can’t leam everything I need to know.”

Fireheart crouched down until his eyes were level with Cinderpelt’s. “This is about Silverstream, isn’t it?” he meowed fiercely. He remembered the day at Sunningrocks when Graystripe’s RiverClan queen had given birth before her time. Cinderpelt had tried desperately to save her, but Silverstream had lost too much blood. The beautiful silver tabby had died temporarily, although her newborn kits had survived. Thankfully, Jayfeather had somehow managed to save her, which Fireheart still didn’t understand. The blind medicine cat seemed to have strange powers.

Cinderpelt didn’t reply, and Fireheart knew he was right. “You saved her kits!” he pointed out.

“But I lost her. She only survived because of Jayfeather”

“You did everything you could, and in the end, you were the one who strengthened her body enough for Jayfeather to succeed.” Fireheart leaned forward to lick Cinderpelt on her soft gray head. “Look, just ask Yellowfang what herbs to use in the poultice. She won’t mind. Or you could ask Jayfeather.”

“I hope so.” Cinderpelt sounded unconvinced. Then she gave herself a shake. “I need to stop feeling sorry for myself, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Fireheart answered, flicking his tail at her.

“Sorry.” Cinderpelt threw him a rueful look that glimmered with a hint of her old humor. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought any fresh-kill with you?”

Fireheart shook his head. “Sorry. I just came to speak to you. Don’t tell me Yellowfang’s starving you?”

“No, but this medicine-cat thing is harder than you’d think,” Cinderpelt replied. “I haven’t had the chance to take any fresh-kill today.” Her eyes flashed with curiosity. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Tigerclaw’s kits.” Fireheart felt the bleakness seep into his belly again. His momentary relief from Cinderheart’s assurances faded. “Especially Bramblekit.”

“Because he looks like his father?”

Fireheart winced. Were his feelings that easy to read? “I know I shouldn’t judge him. He’s just a kit. But when I saw him, it was as if Tigerclaw were looking at me. I. . .1 couldn’t move.” Fireheart shook his head slowly, ashamed of his admission but glad of the chance to confide in his friend. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust him.”

“If you see Tigerclaw every time you look at him, it’s not surprising you feel like that,” mewed Cinderpelt gently. “But you must look beyond the color of his pelt and try to see the cat inside. Remember, he’s not just Tigerclaw’s kit. There’s some of Goldenflower in him too. And he will never know his father. It will be the Clan that raises him.” She added, “You of all cats should know that you can’t judge someone by the circumstances of their birth.”

Cinderpelt was right. Fireheart had never let his kittypet roots interfere with his loyalty to the Clan.

“Has StarClan spoken to you about Bramblekit?” he asked, knowing that Cinderpelt and Yellowfang would have studied Silverpelt at the moment of his birth.

His heart lurched uncomfortably as the gray cat looked away and murmured, “StarClan doesn’t always share everything with me.”

Fireheart knew Cinderpelt well enough to know she was holding something back. “But they shared something with you, right?”

Cinderpelt gazed up at him, her blue eyes steady. “His destiny will be as important as that of any kit born to ThunderClan,” she mewed firmly.

“Cinderheart said something similar,” he meowed. “She said that he would be a hero someday, that he would reject Tigerclaw.”

The she-cat gave him an amused look. “One of the time travelers told you something about the future and you’re still worried?”

“I would be less worried if Hollykit hadn’t started spouting out vague future information from the stories Lionblaze and Cinderheart tell their kits.”

“I’ve heard some of those stories,” Cinderpelt snorted. “Half the time they end with one them telling the kits they should be glad that they actually finished their story, since one of their elders tends to tell long-winded tells that never end.”

“Some of them must be about Tigerclaw and Darkstripe,” Fireheart guessed. “Honeykit called Darkstripe Dirtstripe yesterday. Then, after the hissing he got, he ran back to the nursery and didn’t come out till sunhigh.”

“They are certainly impulsive.” There was fondness in her voice.

Fireheart decided to tell Cinderpelt about the other problem that was troubling him. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he confessed. “I have to decide what their names should be.”

“Isn’t that up to Bluestar?”

“She asked me to choose for her. She said she wants me to practice because she won’t be around forever and then I’ll be naming all the warriors.”

Cinderpelt lifted her head in surprise. “Why are you looking so worried, then? You should be flattered.”

Flattered? Fireheart echoed silently, recalling the amusement in Bluestar’s eyes. He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not sure what to pick.”

“You must have some idea,” Cinderpelt prompted him.

“Not a clue.”

Cinderpelt frowned thoughtfully. “Well, did you ever try to imagine what your name would be when you were apprentice?”

Fireheart was caught off guard by the question. “Well, yeah, a few times. But I was so desperate to prove myself and so busy taking care of Yellowfang that I didn’t really have many chances to think about it,” he replied slowly.

“Well then, try to think from Bluestar’s perspective. Why do you think she named you Fireheart?” Cinderpelt mewed.

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. The memory of his warrior ceremony flashed in his mind. “She praised my bravery.” Cinderpelt nodded thoughtfully as he went on: “She must have seen a lot of courage in my heart and wanted to remind me.”

“Alright, so what attributes do you see in Lightpaw and Swiftpaw?”

His thoughts immediately flashed to the way Lightpaw had taken up a semi-permanent role as watcher in the clearing. After all the pain he’d gone through, he hadn’t let it destroy him. Instead, he’d taken what life had taken from him and become stronger for it.

“Lightpaw is strong and resilient. He doesn’t melt away under pain but grows from it. So maybe something that matches that.”

“Well, then, that’s one chosen,” Cinderpelt mewed encouragingly.

Fireheart looked down into the medicine cat’s clear, wide eyes. She made it sound so simple, even if he hadn’t technically decided yet.

“And what about the Swiftpaw?” asked Cinderpelt.

“The other what?” Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded from the fern tunnel, and the dark gray she-cat padded stiffly into the clearing. Fireheart turned to greet her. As usual, her long fur looked matted and dull, as if caring for the Clan left her no time for grooming, but her orange eyes gleamed, missing nothing.

“Bluestar’s asked Fireheart to choose the warrior names for Lightpaw and Swiftpaw,” Cinderpelt explained. “She wants him to get some practice for when he becomes leader himself someday.”

“Oh, does she?” Yellowfang’s eyes widened in surprise. “What’ve you come up with?”

“We’ve already come up with some ideas for Lightpaw?” Fireheart began.

Yellowfang interrupted him. “We’ve? ” she rasped. “Who’s we?”

“Cinderpelt helped,” he admitted.

“I’m sure Bluestar will be pleased that a cat who’s barely begun her new apprenticeship is making such important decisions for the Clan,” Yellowfang remarked. She turned to Cinderpelt. “Have you finished mixing that poultice?”

Cinderpelt opened her mouth, then shook her head before wordlessly padding back to the pile of herbs in the middle of the clearing.

Yellowfang snorted as she watched her apprentice limp away. “That cat hasn’t answered me back for days!” she complained to Fireheart. “There was a time when I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The sooner she gets back to normal, the better it’ll be for both of us!” The old medicine cat frowned, then turned back to Fireheart. “Now, where were we?”

“Trying to decide what Swiftpaw’s name would be,” Fireheart answered heavily.

“How did you come up with ideas for Lightpaw?” rasped Yellowfang.

“Well, I thought about what kind of cat he is and how he’s responded to the pain in his life,” Fireheart replied. He couldn’t help feeling it was unusual for a deputy to be choosing warrior names, whatever trust Bluestar was putting in him.

“And what kind of cat do you think he is?” Yellowfang asked. “Is he the same as Lightpaw?”

Fireheart shook his head.

“So is there some other traits he has that distinguish him?” Yellowfang pressed him.

His flexibility, Fireheart thought reluctantly. Every cat knew that Swiftpaw had stayed by Lightpaw’s side through everything. He had taken the constant attacks and the deaths in stride, reaching to meet the challenges like grass for the sun. He was always quick to guide Lightpaw and the younger apprentices when they needed it. Fireheart realized that it was good for him to be choosing a name for Longtail’s apprentice. If he didn’t become a warrior, it might look as if he were taking revenge for the hostility that the warrior had shown him since he first came to ThunderClan. After all, Swiftpaw and Lightpaw had been apprenticed at the same time, and they were ready for their names..

Yellowfang must have seen the look of determination on Fireheart’s face, for she meowed, “Right, that’s sorted. Would you mind leaving me and my apprentice in peace now? We have work to do.”

Fireheart pushed himself to his paws, his relief that he had found ideas for their names.

“Have you seen Cloudpaw? ” Fireheart asked as he emerged from the fern tunnel and called to Thornpaw, Mousefur’s apprentice. The ginger tom was trotting toward the pile of fresh-kill with two mice dangling from his jaws. He shook his head, and Fireheart felt a flash of annoyance. Cloudpaw should have been back ages ago.

“All right. Take those mice straight to the elders,” he ordered Thornpaw. The apprentice gave a muffled mew and padded quickly away.

Fireheart felt his tail bristle with anger at Cloudpaw, but he knew it was fear that made him so furious. What if Tigerclaw has found him? Feeling his alarm grow, Fireheart hurried to Bluestar’s den. He would tell her his decision about the warrior names and then he could go and look for Cloudpaw.

At the Highrock, Fireheart didn’t pause to smooth his ruffled fur; he just called out and pushed his way through the lichen as soon as he heard Bluestar’s reply. The ThunderClan leader was crouching in her nest where he had left her, eating a mouse.

“Bluestar,” Fireheart began, dipping his head. “I thought of some names.”

The elderly she-cat turned her head and looked at Fireheart, then heaved herself up onto her haunches. “Very well,” she answered proudly. “You can tell me just before the ceremony.”

A wave of surprise broke over Fireheart. Bluestar looked as if she didn’t care whom he chose. “Don’t you want me to tell you now?” he asked. “I thought leaders usually know well in advance of the ceremonies,” he added. “I suppose with the last few warrior namings that wasn’t really an option, but — ”

“Where are these soon-to-be warriors?” Bluestar’s whiskers twitched. “Both of them.”

“Swiftpaw is on patrol, and Lightpaw is reinforcing the gorse tunnel with Nighthunter,” Fireheart explained uncomfortably.

“Where’s Whitestorm?”

“Out training Brightpaw.”

“And Mousefur?”

“Hunting with Brackenfur, Sandstorm, and Tulippaw.”

“Are all the warriors out of camp?” Bluestar demanded. “Besides Nighthunter?”

“Um, no, several of them are still here. I think Dovewing was going to teach Snowkit and Hollykit something.”

Fireheart saw the muscles in her shoulders relax and he couldn’t help but feel confused. What was Bluestar trying to do? His thoughts darted back to Cloudpaw and the fear he had felt this morning in the silent forest. “The patrol’s due back soon.” Fireheart fought to stay calm as he tried to reassure his leader, wondering if she was worried about the number of cats outside of camp. “And I’m still here.”

Satisfaction glinted in Bluestar’s eyes. “You don’t understand what I’m doing, do you, Fireheart” asked Bluestar in amusement. Fireheart froze and she went on: “The mark of a good deputy is being able to manage the cats in their Clan and keep track of them.” At Fireheart’s wince, she added, “I know you had some trouble organizing the patrols earlier, but do you realize what you just did?” He shook his head. “You managed to tell me, quite easily, where all the cats are and what they’re doing. You kept track of your Clanmates, and you chose to stay behind in camp to watch over those who remained.”

“I made the right choice?”

She nodded, resting her tail on his shoulder. “I made the right choice making you deputy. It might seem difficult now, but things will get easier. You’ve already proven that you can remember the plans you’ve made with your Clanmates, and you have a strong protective side. That will help you too.”

Fireheart backed out of the den. He sat down in the shade of the Highrock and twisted his head to lick the fur on his tail. What should he do? His pounding heart told him to race into the forest, find Cloudpaw, and bring him home to the safety of the camp. But it was probably better for him to stay here until one of the patrols returned.

Just then he heard the crashing of cats through the undergrowth outside the camp and he smelled the familiar scents of Darkstripe, Runningwind, Dustpelt, and Ashpaw on the warm air. Their pawsteps slowed as they trotted through the gorse entrance, Runningwind leading the way.

Fireheart sprang to his paws with relief. Now he could leave the camp and find Cloudpaw. He hurried across the clearing to meet them. “How did the patrol go?” he called.

“No signs of the other Clans,” reported Runningwind.

“But we did smell your apprentice,” added Darkstripe. “Near Twolegplace.”

“Did you see him?” Fireheart meowed as casually as he could.

Darkstripe shook his head.

“I expect he was looking for birds in one of the Twoleg gardens.” Dustpelt smirked. “They’re probably more to his taste.”

Fireheart ignored Dustpelt’s kittypet jibe. He could handle it if it meant the brown warrior was starting to recover from Stripestalk’s betrayal. “Was the scent fresh?” he asked Runningwind.

“Fairly. We lost his trail when we started to head back to camp.”

Fireheart nodded. At least he had an idea where to begin looking for Cloudpaw. He noticed that Runningwind was leading Thornpaw toward the camp entrance. “Where are you going?” he called in surprise. Bluestar wanted three warriors to remain in camp; he couldn’t go and look for Cloudpaw if Runningwind was going out again.

“I promised Mousefur I’d teach Thornpaw how to catch squirrels this afternoon,” Runningwind meowed over his shoulder.

“But I. . .” Fireheart’s voice trailed away as the lean warrior eyed him curiously. He couldn’t bring himself to admit how worried he was about Cloudpaw. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he meowed, and Runningwind and Thornpaw disappeared into the gorse tunnel. A twinge of guilt shot through Fireheart as he watched Mousefur’s apprentice padding obediently after the warrior. Why couldn’t he inspire that sort of behavior in his own apprentice?

The rest of the afternoon dragged. Fireheart settled himself beside the nettle clump outside the warriors’ den and strained his ears, scanning the sounds of the forest for any sign of Cloudpaw’s return. But the fear that Bluestar had stirred in him had eased slightly since Darkstripe reported scenting only the young apprentice on the patrol, and no intruders in ThunderClan territory.

As the sun began to sink below the treetops, the hunting party returned. It was followed by Whitestorm and Brightpaw, drawn away from the training hollow, no doubt, by the scent of fresh-kill. Longtail and Swiftpaw returned soon afterward, but there was still no sign of Cloudpaw.

There was plenty of prey to go around, but so every cat had a chance to approach the pile. News of the naming ceremony had spread through the camp. Fireheart could hear Thornpaw, Brightpaw, and Swiftpaw whispering in excited mews outside their den until Bluestar padded out from her cave, when they hushed one another and looked up with huge, expectant eyes.

She padded over to Longtail and whispered something to him. His eyes lit up in surprise, and he nodded.

As Bluestar headed toward Highrock, Longtail came to join Fireheart. “I heard that you suggested Swiftpaw be made a warrior,” he meowed quietly.

“Nighthunter suggested it first,” Fireheart replied. He didn’t want to take credit for something hadn’t been the first to think of.

“You still agreed and suggested it to Bluestar,” Longtail pointed out. “You could have said nothing, or argued against it because I was Tigerclaw’s supporter and Swiftpaw is my apprentice. Thank you.”

Fireheart shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s nothing.”

Longtail snorted. “It’s not nothing.”

“Swiftpaw has earned it,” Fireheart told him. “I’m not going to punish an apprentice because I don’t get along with his mentor. That’s not what a warrior does.”

Surprise filled Longtail’s eyes for the second time. “Maybe you’re not so bad,” he muttered. Before Fireheart could respond, he added, “We probably won’t ever be friends…but you’re the deputy of this Clan. I’ll respect that.”

Now it was Fireheart’s turn to thank the pale tabby warrior, who nodded curtly and left to select a chaffinch from the prey pile.

After every cat had eaten their fill, and Cloudpaw had finally returned to the camp looking as if he’d received a very serious lecture from some cat, Bluestar finally allowed Fireheart to tell her the names he had chosen.

Nodding approval, The ThunderClan leader leaped onto the Highrock in a single, easy bound. She had clearly recovered from her physical injuries after the battle with the rogue cats, and Fireheart couldn’t help feeling relieved by this. It would be nice to see her walking around the camp and hunting in the forest again. His heart quickened as she raised her chin, preparing to call the Clan together. Her voice was loud and, but as she yowled the familiar words, Fireheart felt his excitement rise.

The sinking sun glowed on his flame-colored fur, and he thought of his own naming ceremony, when he had first joined the Clan. Now he had named these warriors. Proudly squaring his shoulders Fireheart took the deputy’s place at the head of the clearing below the Highrock, while the rest of the Clan gathered in a circle around the edge.

We are here today to give two apprentices their warrior names,” Bluestar began formally, glancing down to where Lightpaw and Swiftpaw stood alone in the center of the clearing.

An expectant hush fell over the rest of the Clan.

“Come forward,” Fireheart heard Bluestar’s voice command from above.

The two young cats obeyed, quivering with excitement.

Bluestar looked at them, then at her Clan, and finally at Silverpelt.  “I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” She gazed down at the pair of young cats in front of her. “Lightpaw, Swiftpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Lightpaw answered without hesitation, followed a heartbeat later by Swiftpaw. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names: Lightpaw, from this moment you will be known as Lightfrost. StarClan honors your strength and your spirit, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” Bluestar stepped forward and rested her muzzle on top of Lightfrost’s bowed head.

Lightfrost licked Bluestar’s shoulder respectfully.

Bluestar turned to the other apprentice. “Swiftpaw, from this moment you will be known as Swiftblade. StarClan honors your compassion and your guidance, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” Bluestar stepped forward and rested her muzzle on top of Swiftblade’s bowed head.

Swiftblade licked Bluestar’s shoulder respectfully as well.

The Clan erupted in cheering. “Lightfrost! Swiftblade! Lightfrost! Swiftblade!”

It was good to see the cats so happy. Finally the shadows left from Tigerclaw’s attack were beginning to fade. ThunderClan might have lost two warriors, but they had gained two more, with plenty more apprentices and kits to follow.

The other cats began congratulating the two new warriors, crowding around them and calling them by their new names. Fireheart was just about to join them when he caught sight of a white pelt slipping into the shadows and remembered the problem he still had to deal with. Cloudpaw had returned.

Fireheart hurried to meet him. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

Cloudpaw dropped the vole that was clamped between his jaws. “Hunting.”

“Is that all you could find? You caught more than that during leaf-bare!”

Cloudpaw shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about the pigeon you caught this morning?” Fireheart asked.

“Didn’t you bring that back?”

“It was your catch!” Fireheart spat.

Cloudpaw sat down and curled his tail over his front paws. “I suppose I’ll have to fetch it in the morning,” he mewed.

“Yes,” agreed Fireheart, exasperated by Cloudpaw’s indifference. “And until then you can go hungry. Go and put that” — he flicked his nose at the vole — “on the fresh-kill pile.”

Cloudpaw shrugged again, picked up the vole, and padded away. Fireheart could hear him muttering under his breath. “I’ve already had one lecture since you last saw me; I don’t need another one.”

Fireheart turned, still furious, and saw Whitestorm standing behind him.

“He’ll learn when he’s ready,” meowed the white warrior softly.

“I hope so,” Fireheart muttered.

“Have you decided who’s going to lead the dawn patrol?” Whitestorm asked, diplomatically changing the subject.

Fireheart hesitated. He hadn’t even thought about it, or the rest of the patrols and hunting parties for the next day. He’d been too busy worrying about Cloudpaw

“Give it some thought,” meowed Whitestorm, turning away. “There’s plenty of time yet.”

“I’ll lead the patrol,” Fireheart decided quickly. “I’ll take Longtail, Mousefur, and Lionblaze.”

“Good idea,” purred Whitestorm. “Shall I tell them?” He glanced over at the fresh-kill pile, where the cats were beginning to gather.

“Yes,” answered Fireheart. “Thanks.” Before the senior warrior began to leave, he added, “And, er, could you bring Cloudpaw with you for training tomorrow?” He remembered Cinderheart’s suggestion and thought it could be beneficial for both apprentices. Maybe Brightpaw will pass on some respect to him.

“Of course,” Whitestorm purred. “It will be good for Brightpaw to train with someone so different from herself.”

Fireheart watched the white warrior head toward the pile, feeling his own belly warm contently. He had shared a delicious thrush with Sandstorm, and she’d told him about a funny moment on her patrol when Tulippaw had tried to stalk what he thought was a rabbit, only to accidently tackle Mousefur. The brown warrior, whom Fireheart had never thought as being rabbit-colored, had not been amused with this. She’d given him a sharp yowl, and then spent the rest of the patrol looming over him whenever he wasn’t stalking prey.

He was about to go congratulate the newest warriors himself when he noticed another white pelt, longer-haired and the color of fresh snow, mingling with the cats around the fresh-kill pile. Cloudpaw had obviously disobeyed Fireheart’s orders to keep away from the sharing of prey. Fury flashed through Fireheart, but he stayed where he was, his paws as heavy as stone. He didn’t want to argue with Cloudpaw in front of the rest of the Clan.

As Fireheart watched, Cloudpaw picked out a fat mouse and bumped into Whitestorm. Fireheart saw the white warrior glare sternly at Cloudpaw and heard him murmur something — he couldn’t tell what, but Cloudpaw dropped the mouse at once and slunk back toward his den with his tail down.

Fireheart quickly turned his head away, embarrassed that he hadn’t confronted Cloudpaw before the senior warrior. Suddenly he didn’t feel hungry anymore. He saw Bluestar lying under a clump of ferns beside the warriors’ den and longed to share his worries about his disobedient apprentice with his old mentor. But he realized that he needed to figure things out himself. Bluestar could help him figure out how to be a good deputy, but it was up to him to figure out how to manage Cloudpaw.

Chapter Text

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER BLUESTAR — blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle.

DEPUTY FIREHEART — handsome ginger tom.

APPRENTICE, CLOUDPAW

MEDICINE YELLOWFANG — old dark gray she-cat with a broad, flattened face

CATS       APPRENTICE, CINDERPELT — dark gray she-cat.

               JAYFEATHER— gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

WARRIORS (toms, and she-cats without kits)

SWEETMINT — tortoiseshell she-cat

NIGHTHUNTER — black she-cat

WHITESTORM— big white tom. 

APPRENTICE, BRIGHTPAW

FROSTFUR— beautiful white coat and blue eyes.

BRINDLEFACE— pretty tabby.

OWLTUFT — brown tabby tom

APPRENTICE, FERNPAW

NEEDLENOSE — tortoiseshell she-cat with a thin stripe down her muzzle and nose

NUTFUR — light brown she-cat

DARKSTRIPE — sleek black-and-gray tabby tom.

LONGTAIL — pale tabby tom with dark black stripes.

RUNNINGWIND— swift tabby tom.

WILLOWPELT — very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes.

MOUSEFUR — small dusky brown she-cat.

APPRENTICE, THORNPAW

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat

LIONBLAZE— golden tabby tom with amber eyes

DUSTPELT — dark brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, ASHPAW

SANDSTORM — pale ginger she-cat.

APPRENTICE, TULIPPAW

SWIFTBLADE — black-and-white tom.

LIGHTFROST — gray-and-white tom

BRACKENFUR — golden brown tabby tom.

IVYPOOL— silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes

DOVEWING— pale gray she-cat with green eyes

APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

BRIGHTPAW—white she-cat with ginger splotches

THORNPAW—golden-brown tabby tom

CLOUDPAW—long-haired white tom

TULIPPAW—pale gray with darker, amber eyes

ASHPAW—pale gray with darker flecks, dark blue eyes

FERNPAW—pale gray with darker flecks, pale green eyes

QUEENS (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

GOLDENFLOWER—pale ginger coat, mother to Bramblekit and Tawnykit

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat, mother to Hollykit and Honeykit

SPECKLETAIL — pale tabby, and the oldest nursery queen, mother to Snowkit.

WILLOWPELT — very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes.

ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)

HALFTAIL — big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing.

SMALLEAR — gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in ThunderClan.

PATCHPELT — small black-and-white tom.

ONE-EYE — pale gray she-cat, Virtually blind and deaf. 

DAPPLETAIL — once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER NIGHTSTAR— black tom.

DEPUTY CINDERFUR — thin gray tom

APPRENTICE, MARIGOLDPAW

MEDICINE RUNNINGNOSE — small gray-and-white tom.

CAT

WARRIORS 

BRIGHTFLOWER— black-and-white she-cat

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

APPRENTICE, BROWNPAW

FERNSHADE — tortoiseshell she-cat

APPRENTICE, MINTPAW

DEERFOOT — light brown tom

FLINTFANG—older gray tom

ROWANBERRY—brown-and-cream she-cat

APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW

RUSSETFUR—dark ginger she-cat

APPRENTICE, VOLEPAW

BOULDER— silver tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, WETPAW

APPLEFUR—mottled brown she-cat

SCORCHFUR—dark gray tom

REDWILLOW—mottled brown-and-ginger tom

WETFOOT—gray tabby tom

APPRENTICE, NIGHTPAW

LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom

WHITETHROAT—black tom with white chest and paws

QUEENS 

DARKFLOWER — black she-cat, mother to Rowankit and Cedarkit.

TALLPOPPY — long-legged light brown tabby she-cat.

ELDERS

ASHFUR — thin gray tom.

DAWNCLOUD— small tabby.

WINDCLAN

LEADER TALLSTAR — a black-and-white tom with a very long tail.

DEPUTY DEADFOOT — a black tom with a twisted paw.

MEDICINE BARKFACE — a short-tailed brown tom.

CAT 

WARRIORS

PIGEONFLIGHT — a dark gray tom with white patches.

SORRELSHINE — a gray-and-brown she-cat.

WRENFLIGHT — a brown she-cat.

FLYTAIL — a snowy-white tom.

RABBITEAR — a pale brown she-cat with a fluffy white belly and yellow eyes.

BRISTLEBARK — a black tom.

APPRENTICE, EAGLEPAW

MUDCLAW — a mottled dark brown tom.

APPRENTICE, WEBPAW

TORNEAR— a tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, TAWNYPAW

ASHFOOT — a gray she-cat

ONEWHISKER— a young brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW

HEATHERTAIL—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

FURZEPELT—gray-and-white she-cat

RUNNINGBROOK—light gray tabby she-cat

QUEENS

MORNINGFLOWER — a tortoiseshell queen, mother to Gorsekit.

ELDERS

STAGLEAP — a dark brown tom with amber eyes.

DOESPRING — light brown she-cat.

RYESTALK — gray tabby she-cat with amber eyes.

BRACKENDUST — brown tabby tom with brown eyes.

CROWFUR – black tom with a silver muzzle

RIVERCLAN

LEADER CROOKEDSTAR — a huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw.

DEPUTY LEOPARDFUR — unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat.

WARRIORS 

BLACKCLAW— smoky black tom. 

APPRENTICE, HEAVYPAW

SWANSOAR — silver tabby

STONEFUR — a gray tom with battle-scarred ears.

APPRENTICE, SHADEPAW

MOSSLIGHT — a gray-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, ICEPAW

LOUDBELLY — a dark brown tom.

MINNOWSCALE — dark gray she-cat,

SILVERSTREAM — a pretty slender silver tabby.

WILLOWMIST — smoky black she-cat.

WHITECLAW — a dark brown tom with white paws and amber eyes.

MINNOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat

MOSSYFOOT—brown-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, LONGPAW

GRAYSTRIPE — long-haired solid gray tom. (Father to Stormkit and Featherkit)

QUEENS

MOSSPELT — tortoiseshell she-cat, mother to Dawnkit, Robinkit, and Woodkit; fostering Stormkit and Featherkit

MISTYFOOT — dark gray she-cat, mother to Perchkit, Pikekit, Primrosekit, and Reedkit.

ELDERS 

GRAYPOOL — thin gray she-cat with patchy fur and a scarred muzzle

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

BARLEY — black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest.

RAVENPAW — sleek black cat with a white-tipped tail who lives on the farm with Barley. 

STRIPESTALK — black-and-white she-cat

TIGERCLAW — big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws, formerly of ThunderClan

CLAWFACE — battle-scarred brown tom.

STUMPYTAIL — brown tabby tom.

TANGLEBURR—gray-and-brown she-cat, formerly of ShadowClan

SNAP—a huge, thick-furred, ginger tabby tom with amber eyes, and a broad head

MOWGLI—scrawny, sleek, brown tom with green eyes and a distinctive, pointed muzzle.

JET—a black tom with blue eyes

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

SCRATCH—a brown tabby tom with green eyes and a black paw

PRINCESS — light brown tabby with a distinctive white chest and paws — a kittypet.

OLIVER — a fluffy white tom with brilliant blue eyes

SMUDGE — plump, friendly black-and-white tom who lives in a house at the edge of the forest.

HEALER — black she-cat with green eyes

CAVERN — scrawny, sleek, ginger-and-white patched tom with green eyes.

SCORCH—small black tom with one white paw and ice-blue eyes.

SURGE — light gray-and-ginger she-cat with white patches and yellow eyes, mother to Robin and Red

SPIN — gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

VIOLET—pale orange tabby she-cat with thin, darker orange stripes and white paws

Chapter Text

Soft paws padded through Fireheart’s dreams that night. A brown she-cat emerged from the forest beside him, her eyes kind. Fireheart gazed at Softpaw and felt the familiar ache in his heart. The pain of the apprentice’s death, the one he’d trained beside and who had sacrificed herself for ThunderClan’s elders so many moons ago, was as raw as ever. He waited eagerly for her words, having not heard anything from her since she’d repeated Mistflow’s warning about Tigerclaw. Softpaw sat down, gesturing with her tail for Fireheart to do so as well.

“Hello again, Fireheart,” she said kindly.

“Softpaw! It’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, feeling a purr rising in his throat. “Things are changing so fast in ThunderClan.”

She nodded. “Nothing ever stays the same. Cats betray, cats choose their loyalty, some die, some live. You can never know what’s in a cat’s heart until they make their choices.”

“Is this about Stripestalk?” After all, the two she-cats were sisters. With Softpaw talking about betrayal and loyalty, she must know what her sister was doing.

“No, it’s about Bramblekit.” Softpaw gave him a serious look. “My sister walks a different path now, and you can’t change her mind.”

What? No! Fireheart’s heart sank. Did this mean they wouldn’t be able to convince Stripestalk to leave Tigerclaw and come back to ThunderClan?

“The mind I want to change is yours.”

Fireheart froze. “Mine?”

“Yes. I know that you’re worried about Bramblekit’s loyalties because he’s Tigerclaw’s son. But you must remember that he is also Goldenflower’s son. He is kin to Mistflow and to me, and we have both given our lives to protect our Clan. He is kin to Lightfrost and brother to Swiftblade, the newest ThunderClan warriors you know you can trust with your life. He is kin to Nighthunter, who welcomed you to ThunderClan and gave birth to two brave daughters and trained a loyal warrior.”

“I–I didn’t think about it like that,” Fireheart admitted.

Softpaw reached forward and rested her muzzle on his forehead, though she had to stretch to do so. She and her sister, while full-grown, were much smaller than most ThunderClan cats. “Fear can be powerful and it has the ability to keep us from thinking rationally. Thankfully, you now have had cats from the future and from StarClan telling you that you can trust Bramblekit.”

Fireheart nodded, feeling better. “Thank you.”

“Fireheart!” A new voice sounded from somewhere else. It was Whitestorm. “Mousefur and Longtail are waiting to leave. Wake up, Fireheart!”

Half-dreaming, clouded with sleep, Fireheart pulled himself to his paws. “W-what?” he meowed groggily.

Early morning light was streaming into the warriors’ den. Whitestorm stood beside him in the empty nest where Graystripe used to sleep. “The patrol is waiting,” he repeated. “And Bluestar wants to see you before you go.”

Fireheart shook his head to clear his mind. The dream had reassured him. Softpaw had reinforced what Cinderheart had promised, that Bramblekit would be loyal. He didn’t have to worry anymore.

Fireheart leaned back to stretch, his legs trembling beneath him. “Tell Mousefur and Longtail I’ll be as quick as I can.” He slipped quickly past the slumbering bodies of the other warriors. Brindleface was sleeping near the wall of the den with Frostfur curled beside her; both she-cats had returned to their lives as warriors now that their kits had left the nursery. Maybe they would be mentors to the next kits to become apprentices.

Fireheart pushed his way out into the clearing. It was already warm even though the sun had not yet risen over the treetops, and the woods looked green and inviting at the top of the ravine. As he sniffed the familiar scents of the forest, the pain of Fireheart’s dream began to fade, and he felt his fur relax on his shoulders.

Longtail, Lionblaze, and Mousefur were waiting at the camp entrance. Fireheart nodded to them as he headed toward Bluestar’s den. What could the ThunderClan leader want so early in the day? Did she have a special mission for him? Fireheart couldn’t help feeling it was a sign that Bluestar was feeling even stronger, and he called a cheerful greeting through the lichen.

“Come in!” The Clan leader sounded excited, and Fireheart’s hopes soared. Inside, Bluestar was pacing up and down the sandy floor. She didn’t stop when Fireheart entered, and he had to press himself against the wall to keep out of her way.

“Fireheart,” she began without looking at him. “I need to share dreams with StarClan.”

“You want to go to Highstones?” Fireheart exclaimed, surprised.

She shook her head. “That would dangerous and foolish,” she meowed. “WindClan is still angry with us for sheltering Brokentail. Even if he’s dead, none of us killed him. They likely wouldn’t allow us to pass through their territory.”

“Then…how do you plan to reach StarClan? Can you share dreams with them from here?” Fireheart wondered. Yes, StarClan cats chose to visit his dreams and those of medicine cats, but did Clan leaders have the ability to travel to Starclan without access to the Moonstone?

“Jayfeather has promised to help me speak to them,” she told him calmly. “He said that they can’t stop him from visiting their hunting grounds, and he would enjoy bringing me with him to prove that he could.”

“Of course…Jayfeather.” Fireheart couldn’t help feeling uneasy about the blind medicine cat. Less than a moon ago he’d managed to bring Silverstream back from StarClan, and now he could help Bluestar get their from the camp. Just how powerful was this cat?

Bluestar smiled. “You need not fear Jayfeather. His loyalties are to his Clan, just as yours are. You may join your patrol now. I wanted you to know what I was doing in case you were worried.”

“O-okay.” Fireheart stopped and watched the she-cat disappear into the ferns that led to the medicine cats’ clearing. He felt very uneasy as he padded toward the camp entrance where his patrol was waiting. Longtail was flicking his tail impatiently, while Mousefur had settled onto her belly and watched Fireheart approach through half-closed eyes. Lionblaze was watching Honeykit and Hollykit wrestle outside the nursery.

“What’s going on?” Longtail demanded. “Why’s Bluestar going to see Yellowfang? Is she okay?”

“She’s going to see Jayfeather. Bluestar needs to share with StarClan,” Fireheart explained.

“That’s a long way,” remarked Mousefur, slowly sitting up. “Is it wise? Bluestar’s probably still weak from the rogue cats’ attack.” Fireheart couldn’t help noticing that she tactfully avoided mentioning Tigerclaw’s part in the attack.

Fireheart sighed. “She’s not going to the Moonstone. Apparently, Jayfeather can lead her to StarClan from here, so she doesn’t need to make the trip.”

“That’s…unusual.” Longtail seemed just as confused as Fireheart was.

“I don’t really understand it either, but I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as it works,” Fireheart told him.

Lionblaze was nodding confidently. “It’ll work, believe me.”

Fireheart looked towards Mousefur. “Is Thornpaw coming?” He hadn’t specifically assigned the apprentice to this patrol the day before, but he knew how much mentors enjoyed bringing their apprentices with them.

She nodded, swinging her muzzle towards where Thornpaw was emerging from the apprentices’ den with a yawn. “I told him not to stay up so late celebrating with Lightfrost and and Swiftblade.”

“Oh, I forgot to let them off their vigil!” Fireheart gasped.

“Don’t worry, Whitestorm took care of it,” Lionblaze told him. “He went and got them while you were speaking with Bluestar.”

A surge of relief filled Fireheart. He felt very grateful for the help of the senior warrior. StarClan knew what would happen if he was left to do this on his own.

Thornpaw, still yawning, crossed the clearing to join them. “Remind me why we have dawn patrols?” he grumbled.

“Because it’s good experience for you,” Mousefur told him. “Getting up for the dawn patrol helps prepare you for sudden attacks on camp, which can happen at any time, whether or not you want them to.”

“If you say so.” Thornpaw yawned again, frowning tiredly as he did so.

Around them, the camp was beginning to stir. Willowpelt had just squeezed out of the nursery and was blinking in the bright sunlight, while Patchpelt was stretching his old limbs in front of the fallen oak. Sweetmint ducked out of the warriors’ den and went to talk to him, a cheerful expression on her face.

“Hey!”

Fireheart heard a familiar voice behind him and his heart sank. It was Cloudpaw, scampering out of his den with his fur standing on end, ungroomed after a night’s sleep. “Where are you going? Can I come?”

Fireheart paused at the tunnel entrance. “Don’t you have a pigeon to collect?”

“The pigeon can wait. I bet some owl’s flown off with it by now anyway,” answered Cloudpaw. “Let me come with you, please!”

“Owls eat live prey,” Fireheart corrected him. He caught sight of Runningwind padding sleepily out of the warriors’ den. Beside him, Whitestorm was emerging from the branches, apparently having finished Lightfrost and Swiftblade get settled.. “Whitestorm will take you out with Brightpaw this morning.” He caught a flash of both excitement and resentment in his apprentice’s eyes.

“That’s not fair,” whined Cloudpaw. “I went hunting yesterday. Can’t I come with you?”

“No. Today you will train with Whitestorm!” Fireheart snapped. Before Cloudpaw could argue any more, he turned and raced out of camp, followed quickly by his patrol.

*  *  *  *  *

The patrol was uneventful and they finished quickly. Fireheart wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or bad that they had found no sign of Tigerclaw.

Though it wasn’t a hunting patrol, Thornpaw had caught a vole, and when a sparrow had stupidly decided to fly at Mousefur and Longtail’s faces, Lionblaze had batted it out of the air and against a tree. The golden warrior was so angry that his blow had killed the sparrow before he could even bite it, and Fireheart had heard him growling something about prey not attacking ThunderClan elders.

Now as they returned to camp, the sun felt too hot to bear beneath his thick coat. He headed for the shade at the edge of the clearing, and noticed Dustpelt padding toward him from the gorse tunnel, Ashpaw at his heels.

“You’re back early,” meowed the tabby warrior. He circled Fireheart as Ashpaw stood wide-eyed and looked up at the two warriors.

“It was an uneventful patrol,” Fireheart explained.

“You didn’t find anything?” asked Dustpelt, sitting down beside his apprentice.

“We caught a vole and a sparrow,” meowed Fireheart.

He saw Dustpelt’s eyes flick toward the gorse tunnel and turned to see Darkstripe, Owltuft, and Fernpaw enter the camp. Fernpaw looked exhausted as she ran to keep up with her mentor and the other warrior, her fur clumped and dusty.

“What are you doing back?” Darkstripe asked, narrowing his eyes at Fireheart.

“Uneventful patrol,” Dustpelt announced. Fernpaw looked up at Dustpelt, her pretty green eyes round with surprise.

“What? That’s unusual,” Darkstripe meowed, his tail bristling.

Whitestorm’s meow sounded across the clearing. “Fireheart!” The lean warrior was trotting toward him, looking agitated. Darkstripe, Owltuft, and Dustpelt glanced at each other and led the apprentices away. Whitestorm reached Fireheart and asked, “Have you seen Cloudpaw anywhere?”

“No.” Fireheart felt his heart lurch. “I told him he was going out with you this afternoon.”

“I told him to wait till I’d greeted Willowpelt.” Whitestorm seemed more disappointed than worried. “But when I’d finished, Brightpaw told me he’d gone hunting by himself.”

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart apologized, sighing inwardly. The last thing he needed right now was Cloudpaw’s disobedience. “I’ll speak to him when he gets back.”

Whitestorm’s eyes glittered with worry and he looked unconvinced by Fireheart’s promise. Fireheart was about to apologize again when he saw Whitestorm’s expression turn to disbelief as Cloudpaw scampered into the camp, a squirrel grasped in his jaws. The apprentice’s eyes shone with pride at the catch, which was almost as big as he was. Whitestorm snorted with amazement.

“I’ll sort it out,” Fireheart meowed quickly. He sensed he had plenty more to say about Cloudpaw, but the senior warrior just nodded and padded away, walking towards the nursery.

Fireheart watched the white cat carry his squirrel to the fresh-kill pile. Cloudpaw dropped it and wandered toward the apprentices’ den without taking any food for himself, even though there was plenty of prey. With a sinking feeling, Fireheart guessed that Cloudpaw had already eaten while out hunting. How many times could Cloudpaw break the warrior code in a single day? he wondered irritably.

“Cloudpaw!” called Fireheart.

Cloudpaw looked up. “What?” he mewed.

“I want to talk to you.”

As Cloudpaw padded slowly toward him, Fireheart was uncomfortably aware of Runningwind watching from outside the warriors’ den.

“Did you eat while out hunting?” he demanded as soon as Cloudpaw neared.

Cloudpaw shrugged. “So what if I did? I was hungry.”

“What does the warrior code tell us about eating before the Clan is fed?”

Cloudpaw looked at the treetops. “If it’s anything like the rest of the code, it’ll tell me I can’t,” he muttered.

Fireheart pushed away his rising exasperation. “Did you fetch that pigeon?”

“I couldn’t. It was gone.”

With a shock Fireheart realized he didn’t know if he believed Cloudpaw or not. He decided there was no point pursuing it. “Why didn’t you go out training with Whitestorm?” he asked instead.

“He was taking too long to visit his mate. Anyway, I prefer hunting alone!”

“You’re still just an apprentice,” Fireheart reminded him sternly. “You’ll learn better if you hunt with a warrior. And he wasn’t going to take you hunting, he was going have you battle training with Brightpaw.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. If you recall, I said you were going to be training with him. Cinderheart suggested having the two of you practice battle techniques together to help with Brightpaw’s confidence. By disobeying me and leaving on your own, you not only hurt yourself, but you hurt your friend too.”

Cloudpaw sighed and nodded. Surprisingly, he actually seemed saddened by what Fireheart had said. “Yes, Fireheart.”

Fireheart still had no idea if Cloudpaw had really listened or not. “You’ll never be given your warrior name if you carry on like this! How do you think you’ll feel watching Ashpaw’s, Tulippaw’s, and Fernpaw’s naming ceremonies when you’re still an apprentice?”

“That’ll never happen,” Cloudpaw argued.

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Fireheart told him. “You’ll be staying at camp while they go to the next Gathering.”

Finally Fireheart seemed to have Cloudpaw’s attention. The white-haired apprentice stared up at him in disbelief. “But — ” he began.

“When I report this to Bluestar, I think she’ll agree with me,” Fireheart interrupted him fiercely. “Now, go away!”

Tail down, Cloudpaw padded off toward the other apprentices, who were watching from outside their den. Fireheart didn’t even bother looking to see if Runningwind had witnessed the scene. Right now he didn’t care what the Clan thought of his apprentice. The opinions of the other cats seemed to pale into insignificance next to his growing fear that Cloudpaw would never become a true warrior.

Chapter Text

“Bluestar, it’s been a quarter moon since you spoke to StarClan.” Fireheart carefully avoided mentioning her decision not to say anything about what she’d learned. All she’d said was that it had given her some extra hope, but also some concerns. Even though they were alone in her den, he still felt uncomfortable mentioning the vague answers. “There’s been no sign of WindClan in our territory, or ShadowClan.” Bluestar narrowed her eyes disbelievingly but Fireheart pressed on. “There are so many apprentices in training that even with the woods are so full of prey, that it is hard to send all of them out at once.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good problem?” Bluestar pointed out.

“It is, but it still feels strange,” Fireheart meowed.

“Okay.” Bluestar nodded, her eyes clouded with pride. “We can always have them do more training sessions. That way other warriors could work more on the hunting and patrolling without making the patrols too big.”

“Thanks, Bluestar.” This was going to make the task of organizing all the guards, hunting parties, and apprentice training much easier. “I’ll go and sort out tomorrow’s patrols.” Fireheart dipped his head respectfully and left the den.

Outside the warriors were waiting for him. “Whitestorm, you lead the dawn patrol,” Fireheart ordered. “Take Sandstorm and Tulippaw with you. Brackenfur, Dustpelt, and Ashpaw, you’ll guard the camp while I’m hunting with Cloudpaw.” He looked around at the remaining warriors, realizing how much more confident he felt about arranging the patrols. He’d had a lot of practice since Bluestar had reassured him. Pushing away the thought, Fireheart went on: “I’ll leave it up to the rest of you whether you train your apprentices or take them hunting, but I want the fresh-kill pile as full as it is today. We’re getting used to eating well!” An amused purr ran through the group of warriors. “Darkstripe, you lead tomorrow’s sunhigh patrol. Runningwind, you take sunset. You can choose who you take with you; just be sure to let them know so they can be ready in time.”

Runningwind nodded, but Darkstripe’s eyes glittered and he asked, “Who will be going to the Gathering tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted.

Darkstripe narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t Bluestar tell you, or hasn’t she decided yet?”

“She hasn’t discussed it with me,” Fireheart answered. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Darkstripe turned his head and stared into the shadowy trees. “She’d better tell us soon. The sun is starting to set.”

“Then you should be eating,” Fireheart told him. “You’ll need your strength for the Gathering, if you’re going.” Darkstripe’s tone made him uneasy, but he refused to let it ruffle his fur. He sat down and waited for the warriors to move away. Only when they had all gone did he turn back to Bluestar’s den. She hadn’t mentioned the Gathering, and he’d been too busy worrying about tomorrow’s patrols to remember it.

“Ah, Fireheart.” Bluestar met him as she was pushing her way out through the lichen. She looked as if she’d just finished washing, and her pelt glowed in the dusky light. “When you’ve eaten, call the warriors together for the Gathering.”

“Er. . .who shall I call?” Fireheart asked.

Bluestar looked surprised. She listed the names so easily — leaving out Cloudpaw and including Ashpaw, as he’d requested several days earlier — that Fireheart wondered if perhaps she’d already told him, and he’d forgotten.

“Yes, Bluestar,” he answered. He dipped his head and padded across the clearing to the fresh-kill pile.

A fat pigeon had been left on the heap. He decided to leave it for Bluestar. She could use more prey while she finished recovering. He picked up a vole, not feeling very hungry himself. He was too excited and nervous for the Gathering.

As Fireheart carried the vole back to his favorite eating place, a shiver ran along his spine. Instinctively he looked over his shoulder, and he felt a prickle of apprehension as he saw Bramblekit watching him. He recalled Cinderpelt’s words: He will never know his father. It will be the Clan that raises him. Softpaw’s promises of his loyalty, and Cinderheart and Hollykit’s proclamation of his future heroism help ease his mind as well. Fireheart smiled at the kit, then turned away and padded to the clump of nettles to eat.

But before he could take a bite, a small paw prodded his side and he looked down to see that Bramblekit had followed him. The young cat looked nervous, and Fireheart couldn’t help but feel surprised that he had approached him like this.

“Is everything okay, Bramblekit?” he asked softly, instinctively softening his tone so he didn’t scare the kit.

Bramblekit gave a quick nod. “Yeah, it’s okay…I was just wondering if…if you really pushed your friend out of the way of a falling tree to save him and a young kit.”

Fireheart blinked. While he had carried Gorsekit during his journey to bring back WindClan to their territory, and he had helped rescue Frostfur’s kits from ShadowClan, he was fairly certain he’d never been anywhere near a falling tree.

“I would like to hope that I would do that if it happened, I don’t recall an experience like that,” he told Bramblekit. “Who said I’d done it?”

“Hollykit!” Bramblekit exclaimed in excitement. “Lionblaze and Cinderheart tell the best stories about you, and then Hollykit and Honeykit tell them to us when the queens aren’t listening.”

So it’s something I do in the future, Fireheart guessed. “Do you know why Honeykit and Hollykit only tell you these stories when their parents aren’t listening?”

Bramblekit grinned. “Because they aren’t supposed to tell the stories in the first place? I overheard Cinderheart telling her kits that they aren’t allowed to tell us any of the bedtime stories about you or the rest of her family.”

I’m not surprised. With their reluctance to give away too much information about the future even to Bluestar, let alone the warriors, it was no wonder they didn’t want the rest of the kits to hear them either.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn’t resist learning more about these “bedtime stories”. Doing his best to sound innocent, he meowed, “What other stories have they told you?”

“Well, one time they told us how Darkstripe tried to sneak–”

“Bramblekit!” Dovewing’s horrified meow rang out across the clearing. The gray warrior was just returning from the last patrol, crossing through the gorse tunnel. “What are you doing?”

Did she hear what he was saying? Fireheart wondered, ignoring the pang of frustration that the time traveler was preventing from talking to Bramblekit. How in StarClan did she do that?

The young tom seemed unfazed. “I was just telling Fireheart one of my bedtime stories.”

“No, you were telling him one of Honeykit and Hollykit’s bedtime stories,” she corrected. “But it’s time for you to go hear one from Goldenflower.”

“Okay!” He dashed across the clearing, skidding to a halt in front of the nursery.

With Bramblekit gone, Dovewing swung her head around to glare at Fireheart. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Fireheart lied weakly.

She rolled her eyes. “You were trying to get information about the future from a kit who doesn’t even know about time travel yet.”

“Um…yes, I guess I was doing that,” Fireheart agreed, feeling uncomfortable at the way she was glaring at him.

“Look, I know you want to know everything,” she sighed, “but the only way for us to protect every cat is to make as few changes as possible. We already don’t know what’s going to happen now that Bluestar hasn’t lost hope, or what will come of Stripestalk leaving ThunderClan with Tigerclaw.” Her voice caught on the last few words, and Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for her. She had been closer with the she-cat than he had, and they’d been made warriors together.

“I wish I knew where she’d gone,” he mewed.

Dovewing froze at his words, her gaze growing distance. She looked as though she were trying to see into the forest and beyond, trying to find her friend.

After that, things fell quiet and he began to eat his vole. When he’d finished his meal, Fireheart glanced around the clearing. The rest of the Clan was sharing tongues as night stretched out the shadows and brought a welcome coolness to the camp. The days had been so hot lately that Fireheart had found himself wishing more and more that he could swim like the RiverClan cats. He looked over at the apprentices’ den, wondering if Cloudpaw would remember that he wasn’t going to the Gathering because he had eaten while out hunting.

Cloudpaw was crouched on the tree stump outside his den entrance, play-fighting with Ashpaw, who was scrabbling at him from below. Fireheart was pleased that at least Cloudpaw was getting on with his denmates. He wondered if Graystripe would be at Fourtrees tonight. It seemed unlikely, as he had been in RiverClan for barely a moon. But he had given them Silverstream’s kits. The RiverClan leader, Crookedstar, must have been grateful — after all, Silverstream had been his daughter, so the kits were his kin. And even though it would confirm his friend’s acceptance into another Clan, Fireheart found himself hoping that Graystripe would be granted the privilege of joining the Gathering.

Fireheart pushed himself to his paws and called the cats together for the ThunderClan patrol. As he ran through the list of names that Bluestar had given him — “Sweetmint, Mousefur, Runningwind, Owltuft, Sandstorm, Brackenfur, Lightfrost, Swiftblade, Brightpaw, Ashpaw, and Tulippaw” — he realized with growing unease that Darkstripe, Longtail, and Dustpelt weren’t among them. The three warriors had all been close allies of Tigerclaw, and Fireheart wondered if Bluestar had left them out deliberately. An uncomfortable shiver rippled through his fur as the three cats exchanged glances, then fixed their gazes on him. There was an unmistakable gleam of anger in Darkstripe’s eyes. Unnerved, Fireheart turned away and joined the other cats to wait for Bluestar.

She was sharing tongues with Whitestorm outside her den, and only when the gathered warriors began kneading the ground with anticipation did she get up and cross the clearing.

“Whitestorm will be in charge of the camp while we’re away,” she announced.

“Bluestar,” Mousefur addressed her leader cautiously. “What are you going to say about any potential journeys you may need to make to Highstones?”

Fireheart’s shoulders tensed. Mousefur clearly wanted to know if the ThunderClan cats should prepare themselves for hostility.

“I shall say nothing,” Bluestar answered firmly. “WindClan knows that if they try to prevent any of us from going, it is wrong. It’s not worth risking their aggression by bringing it up in front of the other Clans.”

The ThunderClan warriors greeted her response with reluctant nods, and Fireheart couldn’t help wondering whether they saw weakness or wisdom in their leader’s decision as they followed her through the gorse tunnel and out into the moonlit forest.

Dirt and pebbles showered down as the cats scrambled up the side of the ravine. The lack of rain had left the forest as dry as crushed bones, and the sun-scorched ground seemed to turn to dust beneath their paws. Once in the woods, Bluestar ran on ahead. Fireheart dropped to the rear of the group as the cats raced silently through the trees, ducking beneath brittle ferns and swerving past brambles.

Sandstorm measured her pace until she matched Fireheart stride for stride, clearing a fallen branch in a single fluid leap. As they landed, she turned to Fireheart and murmured, “Bluestar seems to be feeling well again.”

“Yes,” Fireheart agreed guardedly, concentrating on threading his body between some prickly bramble stalks.

Sandstorm went on, keeping her voice low so it didn’t carry to the other cats. “She’s helping you grow more comfortable in your duties as deputy, isn’t she.”

“Bluestar has always been a good mentor,” he replied. “I wasn’t her apprentice for long, and I’m glad she hasn’t stopped teaching me.”

“I always wanted to be like Bluestar when I was growing up,” Sandstorm told him with a smile. “As leader, she’s everything I hoped I would become: brave, strong, compassionate, wise, full of common sense.”

Fireheart nodded. “I think you’re a lot like her,” he said. “You’re smart and fearless; you definitely have more sense than plenty of cats in this Clan.”

“Even you?” she teased.

He growled playfully. “Of course! I’ve done some pretty stupid things since I joined the Clan: feeding Yellowfang and myself before the Clan, going through RiverClan territory with WindClan cats and landing us in a fight, sneaking into RiverClan territory several more times to investigate Oakheart’s death and then the truth about Bluestar’s kits.”

She shrugged. “You have a curious and impulsive side.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But I’m glad you aren’t as impulsive. You take time to think things through. That’s probably what’s helped you become such a great hunter and an amazing mentor.”

He felt her purring beside him. “Tulippaw is a good apprentice. He may have trouble distinguishing between cats and rabbits, but he listens well and he’s excited to learn.”

“I wish Cloudpaw wanted to learn,” Fireheart grumbled. “These days it just seems like he wants to show off and ignore everything I, and every other cat, tell him.”

“You’ll get through to him,” Sandstorm promised. “You’ll figure out your apprentice, and you’ll master being deputy, and I’ll be right by your side.”

Warmth blossomed in Fireheart’s chest. “You’re always by my side,” he purred softly. “You’ve been supporting me for moons.”

“Even a Clan deputy needs support from his warriors,” she meowed. “And advice every once in a while.”

“I value your support and any advice and wisdom you have to offer,” he told her honestly. He paused and looked at her for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s no cat I’d rather have by my side.”

She purred. “I’ll be by your side no matter what.”

Did she just–does she feel the same way I do? He blinked. There’s no way she would share my feelings. She just thinks of me as a friend. Besides, she’s too good for me.

Sandstorm interrupted his confused thoughts. “Bluestar looks a little impatient.”

“She’s leading us to the Gathering,” Fireheart pointed out. “We’re holding up the rest of the group.”

“Yes, that’s true,” answered Sandstorm, brightening.

“She’s still the same Bluestar,” Fireheart purred. “She doesn’t want any nonsense or delays tonight.”

The two warriors quickened their pace. They leaped over a stream that had been too swollen to cross during the newleaf floods. Now it trickled along a stony bed, so dry that it was almost impossible to imagine the water had ever flowed higher.

The rest of the group was only just ahead of them by the time they neared Fourtrees. Fireheart led Sandstorm along their trail, the undergrowth still trembling where the cats had passed, as if the leaves shared the Clan’s anticipation of the Gathering.

Bluestar had stopped at the head of the slope and was staring down into the valley. Fireheart could see lithe feline shapes slipping through the shadows, greeting each other with muted purrs. From the scents on the still air, he could tell that ThunderClan was the last to arrive. Fireheart watched Bluestar gaze at the Great Rock in the center of the clearing and saw a confidence in her eyes. She seemed to take a deep breath before plunging down the slope.

Fireheart raced after her with his Clanmates. He slowed as he reached the clearing and scanned the other cats for a glimpse of Graystripe. The RiverClan deputy, Leopardfur, was talking with a ShadowClan warrior Fireheart didn’t recognize. Crookedstar, the RiverClan leader, sat with Stonefur, looking silently around the clearing. Fireheart scented another RiverClan cat close by, but when he turned, he saw it was an apprentice moving to greet Brightpaw. There was no sign or scent of Graystripe. Fireheart wasn’t surprised, but his tail still drooped with disappointment.

Mintpaw joined Brightpaw as well. With one ear Fireheart listened idly to their conversation.

“Has your Clan seen any more of the rogues? Nightstar’s worried that they’re still roaming the forest.”

Fireheart froze when he heard the ShadowClan cat’s question. All of the Clans had been worried about the group of rogue cats that had been scented in their territories. What the other Clans didn’t know was that ThunderClan’s deputy, Tigerclaw, had befriended these rogues and used them to attack his own camp. Fireheart gave Brightpaw a cautionary glance, warning her to keep silent, but there was no need. The white-and-ginger she-cat replied coolly, “We’ve not scented them in our territory for nearly a moon.”

Fireheart felt a jolt of relief as the RiverClan cat, Icepaw, added, “Nor ours. They must have left the forest.” Fireheart wished he could share the RiverClan cat’s confidence, but his instincts told him that, if Tigerclaw were involved, the rogue cats would return one day.

Mudclaw, the WindClan warrior who had turned Fireheart and Bluestar away from Highstones, sat a foxlength away. Fireheart recognized the young WindClan warrior Onewhisker standing at Mudclaw’s side. He had made friends with this small brown tabby on the journey back from exile, but he didn’t dare approach him now. Mudclaw was eyeing him coldly, and Fireheart knew this was no place to continue the fight they’d begun after WindClan had discovered they were harboring Brokentail.

But he couldn’t resist flexing his claws, still angry at the memory, and was angered further when Mudclaw leaned sideways to whisper something into his companion’s ears with a meaningful glance at Fireheart. To Fireheart’s surprise Onewhisker blinked sympathetically at him, then turned and walked away, leaving Mudclaw flicking his tail with annoyance. It looked as if there was at least one WindClan warrior who remembered the old debt of loyalty to ThunderClan. Fireheart couldn’t stop his whiskers from twitching with satisfaction as he stalked past Mudclaw and headed toward Leopardfur and the ShadowClan warrior.

His confidence evaporated when he approached the RiverClan deputy. Although they were equals now in the hierarchy of their Clans, this she-cat had a fierce and commanding presence. Ever since ThunderClan and RiverClan cats had fought at the gorge and a RiverClan warrior, Whiteclaw, had fallen to his death, Fireheart had felt her unforgiving hostility as sharp as thorns. But he needed to find out how Graystripe was doing. He nodded respectfully, and Leopardfur dipped her head in return.

The ShadowClan warrior sitting beside Leopardfur started to rasp a greeting, but broke off, coughing and spluttering. Fireheart noticed for the first time how ragged the warrior’s pelt looked, as if he hadn’t groomed himself for a moon.

Leopardfur gave her paws a lick and wiped her face as the ShadowClan warrior stumbled into the shadows.

“Is he all right?” Fireheart asked.

“Does he look all right?” retorted Leopardfur, her lip curling with distaste. “Cats shouldn’t come to the Gathering riddled with disease.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Like what?” meowed Leopardfur. “ShadowClan has a medicine cat.” She lowered her paw, her wet whiskers gleaming in the moonlight. Her eyes glittered with curiosity. “I hear you are ThunderClan’s new deputy.” Fireheart nodded, realizing that Graystripe must have shared this news with his new Clan. Leopardfur went on: “What happened to Tigerclaw? None of the other Clans seemed to know. Is he dead?”

Fireheart flicked his tail uncomfortably. He could imagine Leopardfur wasting no time in telling the other Clans that ThunderClan had replaced their distinguished deputy with a kittypet. “What happened to Tigerclaw is of no concern to RiverClan,” he meowed, trying to match her cool tone. He wondered if Bluestar would say anything about her former deputy when she announced the news about Fireheart later on.

Leopardfur narrowed her eyes but didn’t press the subject any further. “So,” she meowed, “have you come to brag about your new title, or to find out about your old friend?”

Fireheart lifted his chin, surprised that she was giving him a clear opportunity to ask about Graystripe. “How is he?” he meowed.

“He’ll do.” Leopardfur shrugged. “He’ll never be a true RiverClan warrior, but at least he’s getting used to the water, which is more than I expected.” Fireheart had to hold in his claws at her dismissive tone. “His kits are strong and clever,” Leopardfur went on. “They must favor their mother.”

Was this cat trying to annoy him on purpose? Fireheart was struggling to hold back a sharp reply when Mousefur trotted up behind him.

“Hello, Leopardfur,” she greeted the RiverClan deputy. “Stonefur tells me there are new kits in your camp, besides Graystripe’s.”

“Yes, there are,” Leopardfur meowed. “StarClan has blessed our nursery this greenleaf.”

“He also said Mistyfoot’s kits are about to begin their training,” meowed Mousefur. “You know, the ones Fireheart saved from the floods,” she added, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Fireheart noticed Leopardfur stiffen, but his mind was on Mistyfoot and her littermates, Stonefur and Mosslight. He glanced around the clearing and saw Bluestar sitting alone beneath the Great Rock. Did she know her son was here? Had she heard that Mistyfoot’s kits were ready for their apprenticeship? When he turned his gaze back to Leopardfur and Mousefur, the RiverClan deputy was stalking away.

Mousefur shot a look of sympathy at Fireheart. “Don’t worry. You’ll find her less intimidating when you get used to her. The rest of RiverClan seems happy to see us. They would not have survived the floods so well without the help of ThunderClan, and we did let them have Silverstream’s kits without a fight.”

“Graystripe was never Leopardfur’s favorite ThunderClan cat, though,” Fireheart reminded her. “Not since Whiteclaw fell into the gorge.”

“She should learn to forgive and forget. Besides, Minnowtail caught him and then you helped drag the two of them to safety. Graystripe has given RiverClan two fine, healthy kits.” Mousefur flicked her tail. “Did she ask you about Tigerclaw?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone’s desperate to know what happened to him.”

“And why a kittypet has replaced him,” Fireheart added bitterly.

“That too.” Mousefur glanced briefly at him. “Don’t take it personally, Fireheart. We’d be just as curious about a change of deputy in another Clan.” Her attention wandered around the clearing for a moment before she observed, “Have you noticed how small ShadowClan’s patrol is tonight?”

Fireheart nodded. “I’ve seen only a couple of ShadowClan warriors so far. One of them just had a nasty coughing fit.”

“Really?” meowed Mousefur curiously.

“It is furball season,” Fireheart pointed out.

“I suppose so.”

A voice sounded from the Great Rock. Fireheart looked up and saw the RiverClan leader, Crookedstar, standing on top of the massive boulder, his thick pelt gleaming in the moonlight. Bluestar sat on one side and Tallstar, the WindClan leader, on the other. And on the far side, half hidden by the shadow of an oak tree, sat Nightstar.

Fireheart was shocked by the ShadowClan leader’s appearance. The black tom looked even scrawnier than a WindClan cat, who were kept lean by the rabbits they chased on the moor. But Nightstar didn’t just look thin. He held his head low, and his shoulders were hunched. For a moment Fireheart wondered if he was sick, but then he remembered that Nightstar had already been an elder when he’d taken on the leadership of ShadowClan. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising if he looked frail. He may have been granted the nine lives of a leader, but not even StarClan could turn back time.

“Come on,” Mousefur murmured. Fireheart followed the dusky brown she-cat to the front of the cats and sat down beside her, with Mistyfoot at his other flank.

Crookedstar meowed from the Great Rock, “Bluestar wishes to speak first.” He bowed his head to the ThunderClan leader as she stepped forward and raised her voice, sounding as strong as it always had.

“You may already have heard from WindClan, but for those of you who have not, Brokentail is dead!”

A satisfied murmur rippled through the crowd. Fireheart noticed Nightstar’s ears and tail flicking restlessly. The ShadowClan leader seemed almost excited to know that his old enemy was dead.

“How did he die?” Nightstar rasped.

Bluestar didn’t seem to hear him, but Yellowfang did. “I was with him in his final moments, and it was his own foolishness that killed him. I assure you that it was a painful, if quick death.”

Crookedstar spoke up. “If Brokenstar is dead, then that means all four Clans are the better for it. I suggest that we put aside the needless hostility caused by ThunderClan’s first decision.”

Fireheart didn’t think that anyone would agree with this, but to his surprise, Nightstar nodded. “If Brokentail is truly dead, then our grievance is eased.”

“Let us end this quarrel!” Tallstar yowled.

At his words, cheers rang out in the clearing. Fireheart couldn’t help but feel saddened that everyone was so happy Brokentail was dead. The evil cat had made no true friends and he had tried to hurt all four Clans.

Bluestar dipped her head. “And ThunderClan has a new deputy,” she went on.

“So it’s true what RiverClan has been saying.” The stunned mew of a WindClan warrior rose from the watching cats. “Something’s happened to Tigerclaw!”

“Is he dead?” Mudclaw demanded to know. His words brought a barrage of concerned cries, and Fireheart couldn’t help feeling a twinge of resentment when he realized how much Tigerclaw had been respected by the other Clans. He watched Bluestar anxiously as the cats bombarded her with questions.

“Did he die of sickness?”

“Was it an accident?”

Fireheart felt his Clanmates stiffen around him. They all shared Brightpaw’s unwillingness to reveal the truth about their former deputy’s disloyalty.

Bluestar’s authoritative yowl silenced the questions. “Tigerclaw’s fate is ThunderClan’s business and does not concern anyone else!”

The cats fell into a disgruntled murmuring, their curiosity clearly not satisfied. Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if Bluestar should warn the other Clans that Tigerclaw was still alive — that there was a dangerous traitor roaming the forest, unfettered by the warrior code.

Jayfeather, who was sitting with the medicine cats, opened his mouth to speak. There was no telling what he would say, considering he had a tendency to care little about the wishes of those in authority. “You needn’t be concerned about Tigerclaw’s death!” he growled. “The only thing that matters is that Tigerclaw is a mangy, crowfood-eating piece of fox-dung who doesn’t deserve to be warrior, let alone a deputy!”

While this was definitely true, it was far too vague to answer any questions, and the cats in the clearing began to yowl out demands for explanation.

But Jayfeather did not continue, and when Bluestar meowed again she made no mention of Tigerclaw. Instead she announced, “Our new deputy is Fireheart.”

Dozens of heads turned to look at Fireheart, and he felt hot under their questioning stares. The silence seemed to pound in his ears. He kneaded the ground and soundlessly urged the leaders to carry on with the Gathering, aware only of the sound of breathing and the rows upon rows of unblinking eyes.

This was not how he had hoped his introduction would go.

Chapter Text

Mews of alarm and the pounding of paws in the clearing roused Fireheart from sleep. He blinked against the glaring sunshine that streamed between the branches above the warriors’ den.

A golden head appeared through the wall of leaves. It was Sandstorm, her pale green eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’ve captured two ShadowClan warriors!” she meowed breathlessly.

Fireheart leaped to his paws, instantly awake. “What? Where?”

“By the Owl Tree,” Sandstorm explained, adding, “they were asleep!” Her voice betrayed her scorn at the ShadowClan cats’ carelessness.

“Have you told Bluestar?”

“Dustpelt’s telling her now.” She ducked out of the warriors’ den and Fireheart sprang after her, past Runningwind, who jerked up his head, startled awake by the commotion.

Fireheart had slept fitfully after returning from the Gathering, shaken by the loaded silence that had greeted the announcement of his deputyship. His dreams had been filled with unknown cats that recoiled from him as if he were an owl of ill omen flying through a forest of shadows. He thought he had left his days as an outsider behind him, but the challenging stares from the other cats had warned him that he was still not fully accepted into forest life. He just hoped they didn’t find out about the close call in the broken naming ritual. That Bluestar had waited so long and only just named him before moonhigh would only reinforce their uneasiness about a kittypet replacing a respected Clanborn deputy.

Now he faced yet another challenge. How would he deal with enemy cats captured on ThunderClan territory? Fireheart found himself hoping that Bluestar would be guiding him.

The dawn patrol was gathered in a circle in the middle of the clearing. Fireheart pushed his way through them and saw two ShadowClan cats crouching on the hard earth, their tails bushed out and their ears flattened.

He recognized one of the warriors at once. It was Littlecloud, a brown tabby tom. They’d met at a Gathering when Littlecloud was no more than a kit. He had been forced into apprenticeship by Brokentail when he was only three moons old. He was fully grown now, but still small-framed, and he looked in a bad way. His fur was matted and he stank of crowfood and fear. His haunches were bony, like featherless wings, and his eyes were sunk into his head. The other one wasn’t much better off. These were hardly warriors to be afraid of, Fireheart thought with a twinge of unease.

He looked at Whitestorm, who had led the dawn patrol. “Did they put up a fight when you found them?”

“No,” Whitestorm admitted, flicking his tail. “When we woke them up, they begged us to bring them here.”

Fireheart felt confused. “Begged you?” he echoed. “Why would they do that?”

“Where are these ShadowClan warriors?” asked Bluestar, pushing her way through the audience of cats, her face set in a cool frown. Fireheart felt his belly unclench. “Is this another attack?” she hissed at the two wretched cats.

“Whitestorm found them on patrol,” Fireheart explained quickly. “They were sleeping in ThunderClan territory.”

“Sleeping?” snarled Bluestar, her ears flat against her head. “That doesn’t sound much like an invasion.”

“These were the only warriors we found,” meowed Whitestorm.

“Are you sure?” demanded Bluestar. “It could be a trap.”

As Fireheart looked at these two sorry creatures, his instinct told him that invasion was the last thing on their minds. But Bluestar had a point. It would be wise to make sure there were no other ShadowClan cats hiding in the woods, waiting for a signal to attack. He called to Mousefur and Dustpelt. “You two, take two warriors and an apprentice each. Start at the Thunderpath and work your way back to camp. I want every bit of the territory searched for signs of ShadowClan.”

To Fireheart’s relief the two warriors obeyed instantly. Dustpelt called Runningwind, Nighthunter, and Ashpaw, while Mousefur signaled to Swiftblade, Brackenfur, and Thornpaw; then the eight cats raced out of the camp and into the forest.

Fireheart turned back to the trembling captives. “What are you doing in ThunderClan territory?” he asked. “Littlecloud, why are you here?”

The tabby tom stared up at Fireheart with round, frightened eyes, and Fireheart felt a stab of sympathy. The cat looked as lost and helpless as he’d been at that first Gathering, when he was a barely weaned kit.

“W-Whitethroat and I came here h-hoping you’d give us food and healing herbs,” Littlecloud stammered at last.

Hisses of disbelief rose from the ThunderClan cats, and Littlecloud shrank back, pressing his scrawny body against the earth.

Fireheart stared at the prisoner in amazement. Since when did ShadowClan cats seek help from their bitterest enemy?

“Fireheart, wait.” The voice of Cinderpelt sounded softly in Fireheart’s ear. She was studying the two ShadowClan cats with narrowed eyes. “These cats are no threat to us. They are sick.” She limped forward and touched Littlecloud’s forepaw gently with her nose. “His pad is warm,” she mewed. “He has a fever.”

Cinderpelt was about to sniff the second cat’s paw when Yellowfang forced her way through the throng of cats. “No, Cinderpelt!” she screeched. “Get away from them!”

Cinderpelt leaped around. “Why? These cats are sick. We must help them!” She twisted her head, looking pleadingly first at Fireheart, then at Bluestar.

Every cat turned expectantly to Bluestar, but the ThunderClan leader just stared, huge-eyed, at the captives. Fireheart could see the old gray she-cat struggling with her sense of compassion, her eyes clouded with sympathy. He realized he had to distract the cats’ attention while the leader gathered her thoughts.

“Why us? What made you come to our territory?” he asked the two prisoners again.

The other ShadowClan cat, Whitethroat, spoke this time. He was a black tom with paws and a chest that used to be white but were now stained with dust. Fireheart recognized him a couple Gatherings ago when Nightstar had very briefly announced his warrior status. “You helped ShadowClan before, when we drove out Brokentail,” he explained quietly. 

But ThunderClan also gave sanctuary to the ShadowClan leader, Fireheart thought with a ripple of unease. Had Whitethroat forgotten that? Then he realized that Brokentail had forced these cats into their apprenticeships when they were barely old enough to leave their mothers’ sides. Banishing their cruel leader must have come as such a relief that what had happened to him afterward paled into insignificance. And now that Brokentail was dead, there was no threat to the ShadowClan warriors from the ThunderClan camp beyond normal Clan rivalry.

Whitethroat went on: “We hoped you would be able to help us now. Nightstar is sick. The camp is in chaos with so many cats ill. There are not enough herbs or fresh-kill to go around. Scorchfur and Redwillow promised we would receive help from your Clan, but we were too sick to find a patrol on our own.”

ShadowClan’s time travelers? Fireheart felt startled that any ShadowClan warriors would expect help from ThunderClan, but he remembered how Minnowtail had told the rest of RiverClan that he couldn’t help himself when it came to helping the other Clans. Clearly it was something everyone in their time thought.

“What’s Runningnose doing? He’s your medicine cat. It’s up to him to tend to you!” spat Yellowfang, before Fireheart could say anything.

Fireheart was taken aback by her tone. Yellowfang had once belonged to ShadowClan. Even though Fireheart knew her loyalties lay with ThunderClan now, he was surprised at her lack of compassion toward her former Clanmates.

“Nightstar seemed all right at the Gathering last night,” Darkstripe growled.

“Yes,” agreed Bluestar, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

But Fireheart remembered how frail the ShadowClan leader had seemed, and he was not surprised when Littlecloud mewed, “He got worse when he returned to the camp. Runningnose was with him all night. He won’t leave Nightstar’s side. He let a kit die at its mother’s belly without even a poppy seed to ease its journey to StarClan! We are afraid that he’ll let us die too. Please help us!”

Littlecloud’s plea sounded real enough to Fireheart. He looked hopefully at Bluestar, but her blue eyes still looked bewildered.

“They must leave,” insisted Yellowfang in a low growl.

“Why?” Fireheart blurted out. “They’re no threat to us in this state!”

“They carry a disease I’ve seen before in ShadowClan.” Yellowfang began to circle the ShadowClan cats, studying them but keeping her distance. “It killed many cats last time.”

“It’s not greencough, is it?” Fireheart asked. Some of the ThunderClan cats began to edge slowly backward as Fireheart mentioned the sickness that had ravaged their own Clan during leaf-bare.

“No. It has no name,” Yellowfang muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the captives. “It comes from the rats that live on a Twoleg dump on the far side of ShadowClan territory.” She glared at Littlecloud. “Surely the elders know those Twoleg rats carry sickness, and must never be taken as prey?”

“An apprentice brought the rat back,” explained Littlecloud. “He was too young to remember.”

Nearby, Jayfeather was listening to the conversation, seeming curious. He narrowed his eyes when Littlecloud mentioned an apprentice. Could he be lying about that? Why would he? If another cat brought back the sickness, why not say so?

Fireheart listened to the sick cat’s labored breathing as the ThunderClan cats looked on in silence. “What should we do?” he asked Bluestar.

Yellowfang spoke up before she could answer. “Bluestar, it is not long since greencough devastated our Clan,” she reminded her. “You lost a life then.” The medicine cat narrowed her eyes, and Fireheart guessed what she must be thinking. Only he and Yellowfang knew that Bluestar was on her last life. If the disease spread into ThunderClan, she might die, and ThunderClan would be left without a leader. The thought turned Fireheart’s blood to ice, and he shivered in spite of the hot morning sun.

Bluestar nodded. “You are right, Yellowfang,” she meowed quietly. “These cats must leave. Fireheart, send them away.” Her voice was apologetic as she turned back to her den.

Reluctantly, his relief at reaching a decision tempered by pity for the sick cats, Fireheart meowed, “Sandstorm and I will escort the ShadowClan warriors back to their border.” Mews of approval rippled through the other cats. Littlecloud stared at Fireheart, pleading with his eyes. Fireheart forced himself to look away. “Go back to your dens,” he told his Clanmates.

The other cats slipped noiselessly into the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing, until only Cinderpelt lingered next to Fireheart and Sandstorm. Whitethroat started to cough, his body racked with painful spasms.

“Please let me help them,” begged Cinderpelt.

Fireheart shook his head helplessly as Yellowfang called from her tunnel, “Cinderpelt! Come here. You must wash their sickness from your muzzle.”

Cinderpelt stared at Fireheart.

“Come now!” spat Yellowfang. “Unless you want me to add a few nettle leaves to the mixture!”

Faintly he could hear Jayfeather growling, “Don’t punish her wanting to show compassion. It’s a trait these cats will find lacking in their own Clan once they return.”

Cinderpelt backed away with a last reproachful glance at Fireheart. But there was nothing he could do. Bluestar had given him an order, and the Clan had agreed.

Fireheart glanced at Sandstorm and was relieved to find her eyes filled with sympathy. He knew she would understand his struggle between compassion for the sick cats and the desire to protect his Clan from the illness. It helped ease his own conscience to know that she felt the same as he did, and he fought the urge to press against her for comfort.

“Let’s go,” Sandstorm meowed softly. “The sooner they get back to their own camp, the better.”

“Okay,” Fireheart answered. He looked at Littlecloud, forcing himself to ignore the desperation on the small cat’s face. “The Thunderpath is busy. There are always more monsters about in greenleaf. We’ll help you cross.”

“No need,” whispered Littlecloud. “We can cross it ourselves.”

“We’ll take you there anyway,” Fireheart told him. “Come on.”

The ShadowClan warriors heaved themselves to their paws and padded unsteadily to the camp entrance. Sandstorm and Fireheart followed without speaking, although Fireheart drew in his breath sharply as he watched the sick cats haul themselves painfully up the ravine.

As they made their way into the forest, a mouse scuttled across the path in front of them. The ShadowClan warriors’ ears twitched but they were too weak to give chase. Without stopping to think, Fireheart shot ahead of Sandstorm and tracked the scent of the mouse into the undergrowth. He killed it and carried it back to the sickly ShadowClan cats, dropping it at Littlecloud’s paws. As if they felt too ill to be grateful, they said nothing but crouched and nibbled at the fresh-kill.

Fireheart saw Sandstorm looking on doubtfully. “They can’t spread sickness by eating,” he pointed out. “And they’ll need their strength to return to their camp.”

“Looks like they don’t have much appetite anyway,” Sandstorm commented as Littlecloud and Whitethroat suddenly got up and stumbled away from the half-eaten mouse into the undergrowth. A moment later Fireheart heard them retching.

“A waste of prey,” Sandstorm muttered, scraping dust over the remains of the mouse.

“I guess,” answered Fireheart, disappointed. He waited till the two cats reappeared, then led Sandstorm after them.

Fireheart could smell the acrid fumes of the Thunderpath a few moments before the rumbling of the monsters reached them through the leaf-laden trees. Sandstorm meowed to the ShadowClan cats, “I know you don’t want our help, but we’ll see you across the Thunderpath.” Fireheart nodded in agreement. He was more concerned about their safety than suspicious that the cats would not leave ThunderClan territory.

“We’ll cross alone,” insisted Littlecloud. “Just leave us here.”

“The time travelers warned us we would be turned away,” Whitethroat groaned. “We will leave under our own power.”

Fireheart looked sharply at him, suddenly wondering if he should be less trusting. But he still found it hard to believe that these sick warriors posed any threat to his Clan. “Okay,” he conceded. Sandstorm flashed him a questioning glance, but Fireheart gave a small signal with his tail and the orange she-cat sat down. Littlecloud and Whitethroat nodded farewell and disappeared into the ferns.

“Are we going to — ” began Sandstorm.

“Follow them?” Fireheart guessed what she was going to say. “I suppose we should.”

They waited a few moments for the sound of the ShadowClan cats to fade into the bushes, and then began to track them through the forest.

“This isn’t the way to the Thunderpath,” Sandstorm whispered as the trail veered toward Fourtrees.

“Perhaps they’re following the route they came by,” Fireheart suggested, touching his nose to the tip of a bramble stem. The fresh stench of the sick cats made his lip curl. “Come on,” he meowed. “Let’s catch up with them.” Anxiety flashed through him. Had he been wrong about the ShadowClan cats? Were they heading back into ThunderClan territory in spite of their promise to leave? He quickened his pace and Sandstorm ran silently at his heels.

The noise of the Thunderpath hummed like sleepy bees in the distance. The ShadowClan cats seemed to be following a trail that ran parallel with the stinking stone path. Their scent led Fireheart and Sandstorm out of the cover of the forest ferns and onto a bare patch of ground. Just ahead, the ShadowClan cats had crossed the scentline that marked the border between the two territories and were ducking into a clump of brambles, unaware of their ThunderClan shadows.

Sandstorm narrowed her eyes. “Why are they going in there?”

“Let’s find out,” Fireheart replied. He hurried forward, swallowing a prickle of fear as he crossed the scentline. The rumble of the Thunderpath had grown much louder, and his ears twitched uncomfortably at the bruising din.

The ThunderClan warriors picked their way through the barbed stems. Fireheart was painfully aware they were on hostile territory now, but he had to be sure that the ShadowClan cats were returning to their camp. By the sound of it, the Thunderpath was only a few foxlengths in front of them now, and the scent of the sick cats was almost drowned by its fumes.

Suddenly the brambles ended and Fireheart found himself stepping out onto the filthy grass that edged the Thunderpath. “Careful!” he warned Sandstorm as she hopped out beside him. The hard gray path lay right in front of them, shimmering in the heat, and the ginger she-cat shrank back as a monster roared past.

“Where are the ShadowClan cats?” she asked.

Fireheart stared across the Thunderpath, screwing his eyes up and flattening his ears as more monsters screamed past, their bitter wind dragging at his fur and whiskers. The sick cats were nowhere to be seen, but they couldn’t possibly have crossed already.

“Look,” Sandstorm hissed. She pointed with her nose. Fireheart followed her wide-eyed stare along the dusty strip of grass. It was empty apart from a tiny flicker of movement where the tip of Whitethroat’s tail was disappearing into the ground, underneath the stinking flat stone of the Thunderpath.

Fireheart’s eyes grew round with disbelief. It was as if the Thunderpath had opened its mouth and swallowed the ShadowClan cats whole.

“ Where have they gone? ” Fireheart gasped.

“Let’s have a closer look,” suggested Sandstorm, already trotting toward the place where the ShadowClan cats had disappeared.

Fireheart hurried after her. As they neared the patch of grass that had swallowed up the black tail, he noticed a shadow where the earth dipped away sharply into a hollow beside the Thunderpath. It was the entrance to a stone tunnel that led under the Thunderpath, like the one he’d used with Graystripe on their journey to find WindClan. Sandstorm’s pelt brushed against him as they crept down the slope and cautiously sniffed the gloomy entrance. Fireheart felt the rush of wind on his ears from the monsters roaring past above, but as well as the stench of the Thunderpath, he could smell the fresh scents of the ShadowClan cats. They had definitely come this way.

The tunnel was perfectly round, lined with pale cream stone about the height of two cats. The moss that grew halfway up the smooth sides told Fireheart that the tunnel ran with water during leaf-bare. Now it was dry, the bottom littered with leaves and Twoleg rubbish.

“Have you heard of this place before?” asked Sandstorm.

Fireheart shook his head. “It must be how ShadowClan crosses to get to Fourtrees.”

“A lot easier than dodging the monsters,” commented Sandstorm.

“No wonder Littlecloud wanted to be left to cross the Thunderpath alone. This tunnel is a secret ShadowClan would want to keep for themselves. Let’s get back to the camp and tell Bluestar.”

Fireheart dashed up the slope and back into the forest, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Sandstorm was with him. She came charging after him, and the two cats headed home. He couldn’t help but feel grateful that she had gone with him. At one time, Graystripe would have been the cat to join him, but that would never happen again. Sandstorm was here now, and she was loyal to ThunderClan with every hair on her pelt. As they crossed the scentline, Fireheart felt the familiar relief of being back in the safety of ThunderClan territory; although, after hearing Littlecloud’s news about the sickness in ShadowClan, he doubted if the rival Clan was in a fit state to keep up their border patrols anyway.

“Bluestar!” Hotter than ever and breathless after the run home, Fireheart went straight to Bluestar’s den.

“Yes?” came the answer through the lichen.

Fireheart pushed his way in. The ThunderClan leader was lying in her nest with paws tucked neatly under her chest. “We found a tunnel just inside ShadowClan territory,” he told her. “It leads under the Thunderpath.”

“I hope you didn’t follow it,” meowed Bluestar.

Fireheart hesitated. He had expected his leader to be excited by this discovery; instead her tone was concerned. “N-no, we didn’t,” he stammered.

“You took too much risk entering their territory at all. We don’t want to antagonize ShadowClan.”

“If ShadowClan is as weak as the warriors said, I don’t think they’d do anything about it,” he pointed out, but Bluestar stared past him, apparently busy with her own thoughts.

“Have those two cats gone?” she asked.

“Yes. They went through the tunnel. That’s how we found it,” Fireheart explained.

Bluestar nodded distantly. “I see.”

Fireheart searched the ThunderClan leader’s eyes, finding them full of compassion. Didn’t she care about the sickness in ShadowClan at all? “Did we do the right thing, sending them back?” he couldn’t help asking.

“The right choices are often the most difficult ones to make,” sighed Bluestar. “We don’t want sickness in the camp again.”

“No, we don’t,” Fireheart agreed heavily.

“Yet it was difficult to turn away cats who needed such help,” Bluestar added, her eyes darkening. “Few cats were even considering trying to help them.”

As he turned to leave, Bluestar added, “Don’t tell anyone about the tunnel yet. If we ever do attack ShadowClan, it will not be while they are tortured by this sickness. That would be Tigerclaw’s way, but it is not mine.”

“It’s not mine either,” he agreed. It would be just like Tigerclaw to take advantage of a Clan’s weakness like that. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that they’d sent Littlecloud and Whitethroat away. It would only mean danger if the whole Clan got sick again. The kits in the nursery were even younger than Brindleface’s had been; they’d likely be more vulnerable.

Bluestar cleared her throat. “One more thing: I want you to send Cinderpelt to me. I wish to speak with her.”

“Okay,” Fireheart promised, slipping through the lichen. He understood why Bluestar wanted to keep the tunnel a secret. After all, while he had uncovered a weakness in ShadowClan’s border that could become a strength for ThunderClan, there was no way ShadowClan deserved any sort of attack at the moment, eventually though, this better knowledge of the forest could only be a good thing. But why did she want to speak with the apprentice medicine cat? Fireheart smiled as Sandstorm dashed up to him.

“What did she say? Was she pleased we’d found the tunnel?” she demanded.

Fireheart shook his head. “She told me to keep it a secret.”

“Why?” Sandstorm meowed in surprise.

Fireheart explained as he kept going toward his den. “She doesn’t want our Clan to raid ShadowClan while they’re sick. I’m guessing she’ll let us tell everyone about the tunnel once we know ShadowClan is recovered.”

Sandstorm trotted after him. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Is it Bluestar? Did she say anything else?”

Fireheart realized he was giving away too much of his anxiety, though it was more to do with his conflicted feelings on the ShadowClan cats. He bent to give his chest a quick lick, then lifted his head and meowed with forced brightness, “I must go. I promised I’d take Cloudpaw hunting this afternoon.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sandstorm’s eyes looked concerned, and she added, “It’ll be fun. We haven’t been hunting together for ages.” She nodded toward the apprentices’ den, where Cloudpaw was dozing in the sunshine. The apprentice’s plump, furry belly rose and fell as he breathed. “He certainly needs the exercise,” she added. “He’s beginning to look like Willowpelt.” She purred with amusement. “He must be quite a hunter! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Clan cat that fat.”

There was no spite in Sandstorm’s voice, but Fireheart felt his fur growing hot. Cloudpaw did look fat for such a young cat, much fatter than the other apprentices, even though they were all enjoying the plentiful prey of greenleaf. His heart still leapt at her offer. “I think I should take Cloudpaw out by myself,” he meowed reluctantly. “I’ve been neglecting him a bit lately. Could we go out together another time?”

“Just let me know when,” Sandstorm responded cheerfully. “I’ll be there. I could catch us another rabbit.” Fireheart saw mischief flash in her pale green eyes, and he knew she was referring to the time they’d hunted together in a snowbound forest that shimmered with frost, when she had surprised him with her speed and skill. “Unless you’ve finally learned how to catch them for yourself!” Sandstorm teased, flicking Fireheart’s cheek with her tail as she trotted away.

Watching her go, Fireheart felt both regret, and a strange, happy prickling in his paws. He remembered watching Lionblaze and Cinderheart during one of the training sessions they’d led while he was still an apprentice. There had been a doe-eyed look in Lionblaze’s gaze whenever Cinderheart said something to him that didn’t relate to training. That had been almost half of what she’d said to him that day. She’d gently teased him several times, just like Sandstorm had just now. Could she possibly care about me like Cinderheart–? He shook his head. That makes no sense. I’m just imagining it. But he couldn’t shake the disappointment away, and he shook out his fur before he padded over to Cloudpaw. The sleepy apprentice arched his back and stretched, his short legs quivering with the effort.

“Have you been out of the camp today?” Fireheart asked.

“No,” answered Cloudpaw.

“Well, we’re going hunting,” Fireheart informed him curtly. He felt ruffled by the way Cloudpaw seemed to think he could just he about and enjoy the sunshine. “You must be hungry.”

“Not really,” replied Cloudpaw.

Fireheart felt puzzled. Had Cloudpaw been stealing from the fresh-kill pile? Apprentices were not allowed to take food until they had hunted for the elders, or gone training with their mentors. Fireheart dismissed the thought instantly. The apprentice couldn’t have managed it without one of the Clan seeing him. “Well, if you’re not hungry we’ll start in the training hollow for some fighting practice,” he meowed. “We can hunt afterward.”

Without giving the young cat a chance to object, Fireheart raced out of the camp. He heard Cloudpaw’s pawsteps thumping after him, but he didn’t look back or slow his pace until he reached the sheltered hollow where he had trained as an apprentice. He stopped in the middle of the sandy clearing. The air was so still that, even in the shade, the midday heat felt stifling. “Attack me,” he ordered as Cloudpaw scrambled down the slope to join him, his paws sending up puffs of red dust that clung to his long white fur.

Cloudpaw stared at him, wrinkling his nose. “What? Just like that?”

“Yes,” replied Fireheart. “Pretend I’m an enemy warrior.”

“Okay.” Cloudpaw shrugged and began racing halfheartedly toward him. His round belly slowed him down, making his small paws sink deep into the sand. Fireheart had plenty of time to prepare himself so that when Cloudpaw finally reached him, it was easy to dodge to one side and send the young apprentice rolling into the dust.

Cloudpaw clambered to his paws and shook himself, sneezing as the dust tickled his nostrils.

“Too slow,” Fireheart told him. “Try again.”

Cloudpaw crouched down, breathing hard, and narrowed his eyes. Fireheart stared back, impressed by the intensity of Cloudpaw’s gaze — this time the apprentice looked as if he were actually thinking about the attack. Cloudpaw leaped and flew at Fireheart, twisting as he landed so that he could kick Fireheart with his hind legs.

Fireheart staggered but managed to keep his balance and send Cloudpaw flying with a swipe from his front paw. “Better,” he puffed. “But you’re not prepared for the counterstrike.”

Cloudpaw lay unmoving in the sand.

“Cloudpaw?” Fireheart meowed. The blow from his front paw had been heavy, but surely not enough to hurt. The apprentice’s ear twitched but he stayed where he was.

Fireheart padded over to him, his fur suddenly prickling with worry. He peered down and saw that Cloudpaw’s eyes were wide open.

“You’ve killed me.” The apprentice gasped mockingly, and rolled feebly onto his back.

Fireheart snorted. “Stop messing around,” he snapped. “This is serious!”

“Okay, okay.” Cloudpaw struggled to his paws, still panting. “But I’m hungry now. Can we go hunting?”

Fireheart opened his mouth to argue. Then he remembered Whitestorm’s words: He’ll learn when he’s ready. Perhaps it was better to let Cloudpaw train at his own pace after all. So far arguing had been a complete waste of time.

“I don’t know how Cinderheart turned out such a brilliant warrior with a cat like you training her,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

Unfortunately, Cloudpaw heard him. “What did you say?” When Fireheart froze and didn’t reply, he added, “ Was I really Cinderheart’s mentor?”

Fireheart shook his head in irritation. “Yes, apparently you were the one to train her.”

“That’s awesome!” his apprentice exclaimed. “She’s the best fighter in the Clan!”

“There’s more to being a warrior then fighting,” Fireheart reminded him.

Cloudpaw shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve been out hunting with her…although, there was that one time she caught three mice herself during leaf-bare.”

“Maybe she should train you,” Fireheart suggested hesitantly. “Back when I was training Cinderpelt and Brackenfur, Cinderheart had all sorts of special techniques.”

“Maybe,” Cloudpaw agreed. “Can we go hunting now?”

“Come on then.” Fireheart sighed and led Cloudpaw out of the training hollow.

As they trekked along the bottom of the ravine into the forest, Cloudpaw stopped and sniffed the air. “I smell rabbit,” he mewed. Fireheart lifted his nose. The apprentice was right.

“Over there,” whispered Cloudpaw.

A bright flicker in the bushes betrayed the white tail of a young rabbit. Fireheart dropped low against the ground. He tensed his muscles, ready to give chase. Beside him Cloudpaw dropped too, his belly bulging out sideways as he crouched. The rabbit’s tail flickered again and Cloudpaw dashed toward it, his paws thudding heavily on the dry forest floor. The rabbit heard the noise at once and shot away into the undergrowth. Cloudpaw crashed after it while Fireheart followed on silent paws. The ferns trembled where Cloudpaw had charged through them, and Fireheart felt a stab of disappointment as Cloudpaw skidded, panting, to a halt ahead of him. The rabbit had disappeared.

“You hunted better than that when you were a kit!” Fireheart exclaimed. His sister’s kit had once had the makings of a fine warrior, but the fluffy white apprentice seemed to be turning as soft as a kittypet. “Only StarClan knows how you got so fat with a hunting technique like that. Even a fit cat can’t outrun a rabbit.

You need to be much lighter on your paws if you want to catch one!” He was thankful Sandstorm hadn’t come with them. He would have been embarrassed if she had seen what a poor hunter his apprentice had become.

For once Cloudpaw didn’t argue. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for the young cat. It did look as if Cloudpaw had been trying his best this time, and he couldn’t help feeling that he’d let his apprentice down by neglecting his training lately.

“Why don’t I just go hunting by myself?” Cloudpaw suggested, looking down at his paws. “I promise I’ll bring something back for the fresh-kill pile.”

Fireheart studied him for a moment. Cloudpaw couldn’t be such a poor hunter all the time, because he was looking more well fed than any of the cats in the Clan. Perhaps he fared better when he wasn’t being watched. In a flash, Fireheart decided to follow his apprentice without him knowing and watch him hunt. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Just make sure you’re back by mealtime.”

Cloudpaw brightened instantly. “Of course,” he meowed. “I won’t be late; I promise.” Fireheart heard the apprentice’s belly growl with hunger. Perhaps that will sharpen his skills, he thought.

As he listened to Cloudpaw’s pawsteps fade away into the forest, he felt a flicker of guilt at the thought of spying on him. But he was only going to assess his apprentice’s skills, he reminded himself, as any mentor would.

Tracking Cloudpaw through Tallpines was easy. The undergrowth was sparse beneath the shade of the towering pine trees, and Fireheart could see his apprentice’s snowy pelt from a long way off. The woods here were alive with small birds, and he kept expecting Cloudpaw to stop and take advantage of the rich offerings.

But Cloudpaw didn’t stop. He carried on at a surprisingly swift pace, considering the size of his belly, out of Tallpines and into the oak forest that backed onto Twolegplace. Fireheart felt an ominous prickle in his paws. Keeping low, he sped up so he didn’t lose sight of Cloudpaw in the thick undergrowth. Then the trees thinned out and Fireheart caught a glimpse of the fences that bordered the Twoleg gardens up ahead. Was Cloudpaw going to visit his mother, Princess? Her Twoleg nest was near here. He couldn’t blame Cloudpaw for wanting to see her from time to time. He was still young enough to remember her warm scent. But why hadn’t Cloudpaw mentioned Princess to Fireheart before now? Or maybe his father, Oliver? And why did he say he was going hunting if he was going to visit his parents? Surely he knew that Fireheart, of all the Clan, would understand.

Fireheart’s confusion grew as Cloudpaw turned away from Princess’s fence and followed the line of Twoleg nests until Princess’s home was far behind them. The apprentice padded steadily onward, even ignoring a fresh mouse-scent that crossed his path, until he reached a silver birch that stretched up beside a pale green garden fence. The small white cat heaved himself up the trunk of the birch and clambered on top of the fence, swaying as his belly dragged him off balance. Fireheart remembered Dustpelt’s jibe and winced. Perhaps garden birds were more to Cloudpaw’s taste after all. But he would have to tell Cloudpaw that Clan cats didn’t hunt in Twolegplace. StarClan had given them the forest to provide their food.

Cloudpaw jumped down to the other side of the fence. Fireheart quickly scrambled up the birch, thankful that it was in full leaf as he sheltered behind its fluttering leaves. Below he could see Cloudpaw trotting across the carefully clipped grass, his tail and chin high. A sense of foreboding flowed through Fireheart as Cloudpaw ran straight past a small gang of starlings. The birds scattered upward in a flurry of wings, but Cloudpaw didn’t even turn his head. Fireheart felt the blood begin to pound in his ears. If Cloudpaw hadn’t come to hunt garden birds, what was he doing here? Then he froze with horror as he watched Cloudpaw sit down outside the Twoleg nest and let out a shrill, pitiful wail.

Fire heart held his breath as the Twoleg door opened. He longed for Cloudpaw to turn and run away, but part of him knew that the apprentice had no intention of leaving. He leaned forward on his branch, willing the Twoleg to shout and chase Cloudpaw away. Forest cats were not usually welcomed in Twolegplace. But this Twoleg bent down and stroked Cloudpaw, who stretched up to press his head against its hand as the Twoleg murmured something to him. By the Twoleg’s tone, it was clear they had greeted each other like this before. Disappointment as bitter as mouse bile pulsed through Fireheart’s body as Cloudpaw trotted happily through the door and vanished into the Twoleg nest.

Fireheart stayed clinging to the slender branch of the birch long after the Twoleg door had shut. His apprentice was being tempted back into the life that Fireheart had turned his back on. Perhaps Fireheart had been completely wrong about him after all. Lost in thought, he stirred only when the sun began to dip behind the trees and sent a chill through his fur. He slid lightly down to the fence and dropped onto the ground outside.

Fireheart padded back through the forest, blindly following his own scent trail back the way he had come. Cloudpaw’s actions felt like a terrible betrayal, yet it was hard to be angry with him. Fireheart had been so eager to prove to the Clan that kittypets were as good as forestborn cats, he hadn’t even considered that Cloudpaw might prefer life with the Twolegs. Fireheart loved his life in the forest, but he had chosen it for himself. Only now did it occur to him that Cloudpaw had been given to the Clan by his mother, passed along as a kit before he was old enough to make his own decision.

Fireheart trekked onward, numb to the sights and scents of the forest, until he suddenly realized he had come to his sister’s fence. He stared at it in surprise. Had his paws brought him here on purpose? He turned away, not yet ready to share his discovery with Princess. He didn’t want to tell her what a mistake she’d made in giving Cloudpaw to the Clan. With paws as heavy as stone, he started padding toward Tallpines and the camp.

“Fireheart!” the soft voice of a she-cat cried out behind him. Princess!

Fireheart froze, his heart sinking, but he couldn’t walk away from his sister, not now that she had seen him. He turned back as Princess leaped down from her fence. Her tabby-and-white pelt rippled softly as she bounded toward him.

“I haven’t seen you for ages!” she mewed, skidding to a halt. Her tone was sharp with worry. “Even Cloudpaw hasn’t visited for a while. Is everything okay?”

“E-everything’s fine,” Fireheart stammered. He felt his voice tighten and his shoulders tense with the effort of lying.

Princess blinked gratefully, instantly trusting his words, and touched her nose to Fireheart’s in greeting. He nuzzled her, breathing in the familiar smell that reminded him of his kithood. “I’m glad,” she purred. “I was beginning to worry. Why hasn’t Cloudpaw been to visit? I keep smelling his scent, but I haven’t seen him for days.” Fireheart couldn’t think of what to say, and felt relieved when Princess carried on chattering. “I suppose you’re keeping him busy with his training,” she mewed. “Last time he visited he told me you were really impressed with his progress. He said he was way ahead of the other apprentices!” Princess sounded delighted and her eyes shone with pride.

She wants Cloudpaw to become a great warrior as much as I do, thought Fireheart. Guiltily he mumbled, “He shows great promise, Princess.”

“He was my firstborn,” purred Princess. “I knew he’d be special. I still miss him, even though I know how happy he is.”

“I’m sure all your kits are special in their own way.” Fireheart longed to tell his sister the truth, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that her sacrifice had been wasted. 

“They’re enjoying their homes,” Princess agreed cheerfully.

Fireheart startled. “You’ve seen them?”

She snorted. “Of course I have! Do you think Oliver is the only one who visits them?” She sounded almost offended by what he was implying.

“It’s just…you never mention them,” he realized. Cloudpaw had four littermates, and he knew nothing about them. “What are they like?”

“Oh, they’re incredible!” she breathed. “Nami’s white-and-brown like me, but her personality’s a lot like yours. She’s brave and fearless, and completely selfless. A few days ago, Healer was treating one of the rogues who wanders around Twolegplace and she didn’t have the herbs she needed, so Nami went to get them for her.”

“That was kind,” he agreed.

Princess purred again. “Nami and Livy were adopted together; I guess their Twolegs wanted a pair of she-cats. Livy is a calico: mostly white, but with ginger and black patches all over. She’s very shy and quite, so the two of them balance well.”

Fireheart felt a sense of longing. He wanted to meet these young cats who were his kin. Maybe he’d get the chance someday. “What about the others?”

“Zach and Taylor are my twins and toms,” Princess explained. “They were adopted by Twolegs who live right next door to each other, so they spend a lot of time together. They're both bright and curious, and they tend to scare their Twolegs because they go off exploring for days at a time. Their pelts kind of mirror each other because they’re both white-and-ginger, but have more ginger patches on opposite sides.”

“I haven’t seen any kits like that in ThunderClan,” Fireheart said thoughtfully. “Well, there is Brightpaw. She’s white-and-ginger.”

She shrugged. “It’s fun having kits who look like both you and Oliver–my two favorite toms.”

Fireheart realized that he’d been here too long. He started to ask her to keep an eye out for Cloudpaw, but realized that would alert her to something being wrong. “I must go,” he meowed instead.

“Already?” Princess exclaimed. “Well, come back and see me soon. And bring Cloudpaw next time!”

Fireheart nodded. He didn’t want to return to the camp just yet, but this conversation was making him way too uncomfortable, as if he were confronting the impossible chasm between the forest and kittypet life.

Chapter Text

Fireheart traveled the long way back to camp, letting the familiar greenness of the forest calm him. As he emerged from the trees at the top of the ravine, he found himself thinking yet again how much he missed having Graystripe around to confide in.

“Hi!” Sandstorm’s voice surprised him. She was climbing out of the ravine and must have smelled his scent. “How was training? Where’s Cloudpaw?”

Fireheart looked at the she-cat’s sharp orange face. Her green eyes shone, and he remembered that he could confide in her. He glanced anxiously around. “Are you alone?”

Sandstorm stared back at him curiously. “Yes. I thought I’d do a bit of hunting before mealtime.”

Fireheart padded to the edge of the slope and stared down at the treetops that sheltered the camp below. Sandstorm sat beside him. She didn’t speak, but pressed her flank to his sympathetically. Fireheart knew that he could even walk away now and she wouldn’t ask any more questions. But he wasn’t going to do that. He’d wanted to spend time with her before and only reluctantly taken Cloudpaw out. Even if she didn’t share his feelings, she was still a good friend.

“Sandstorm,” he began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Do you think I made the wrong decision bringing Cloudpaw into the Clan?”

Sandstorm was silent for a few moments, and when she spoke, her words were careful and honest. “When I looked at him today, lying outside his den, I thought he looked more like a kittypet than a warrior. And then I remembered the day he caught his first prey. He was just a tiny kit, but he went out into a blizzard to catch that vole. He looked so unafraid, so proud of what he had done. He seemed like a Clan cat then, born and bred.”

“So I made the right decision?” Fireheart meowed hopefully.

There was another heavy pause. “I think only time will tell,” Sandstorm replied at last. “In fact, I think time has told.”

“What do you mean?”

“You already know that Cloudpaw trained Cinderheart to become a warrior,” she began. He nodded. He’d brought that up himself to Cloudpaw earlier. “And you told me that Ivypool told you that she and Dovewing were the daughters of your sister’s son. Unless more of Princess’s kits join the Clan, it’s pretty safe to assume that refers to Cloudpaw.”

Fireheart didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the reassurance he’d been hoping for, but he knew she was right.

“Has something happened to him?” asked Sandstorm, her eyes narrowed with concern.

“I saw him go into a Twoleg nest this afternoon,” Fireheart confessed flatly. “I think he’s been allowing them to feed him for a while now.”

Sandstorm frowned. “Does he know you saw him?”

“No.”

“You should tell him,” advised Sandstorm. “Cloudpaw needs to decide where he belongs.”

“But what if he decides to return to a kittypet life?” Fireheart protested. Today had made him realize how much he wanted Cloudpaw to stay in the Clan. Not just for his own sake, or to show the other cats that warriors didn’t have to be forestborn, but for Cloudpaw’s sake too. He had so much to give to the Clan, and would be repaid more than enough by their loyalty. Fireheart felt his heart begin to pound at the thought of what Cloudpaw might be about to throw away.

“It’s his decision,” meowed Sandstorm gently.

“If only I’d been a better mentor — ”

“It’s not your fault,” Sandstorm interrupted him. “You can’t change what’s in his heart. And thanks to the time travelers, we have very strong proof that he will choose ThunderClan. This might just be a lesson he needs to learn.”

Fireheart shrugged hopelessly.

“Just talk to him,” urged Sandstorm. “Find out what he wants. Let him decide for himself.” Her eyes were round with sympathy, but Fireheart still felt miserable. “Go and find him,” she meowed. Fireheart nodded as Sandstorm stood up and padded away into the trees.

With a heavy heart he began to scramble down into the ravine, heading for the training hollow in the hope that Cloudpaw would return to camp the same way he’d left. He didn’t want to confront his apprentice like this; he was afraid of pushing Cloudpaw away for good. But he also knew that Sandstorm was right. Cloudpaw could not stay in ThunderClan and keep one paw in the life of a kittypet.

Fireheart sat in the hollow as the sun dropped behind the trees. The air was still warm even though long shadows stretched across the sand. It would be time for the evening meal soon. Fireheart began to wonder if Cloudpaw would return at all. Then he heard the rustle of bushes and the padding of small paws and knew Cloudpaw was approaching even before he smelled his scent.

The apprentice trotted into the clearing with his tail high and his ears pricked. He was carrying a tiny shrew in his jaws, which he dropped as soon as he saw Fireheart. “What are you doing here?” Fireheart heard reproach in the young cat’s voice. “I told you I’d be back by mealtime. Don’t you trust me?”

Fireheart shook his head. “No.”

Cloudpaw tipped his head to one side and looked hurt. “Well, I said I’d be back, and I am,” he protested.

“I saw you,” Fireheart meowed simply.

“Saw me where?”

“I saw you go into that Twoleg nest.” He paused.

“So?”

Fireheart was shocked almost to speechlessness by Cloudpaw’s lack of concern. Didn’t he realize what he’d done? “You were supposed to be hunting for the Clan,” he hissed, anger burning in his belly.

“I did hunt,” answered Cloudpaw.

Fireheart looked scornfully at the shrew that Cloudpaw had dropped on the ground. “And how many cats do you think that will feed?”

“Well, I won’t take anything for myself,” mewed Cloudpaw.

“Only because you’re stuffed with kittypet slop!” Fireheart spat. “Why did you come back at all?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m just visiting the Twolegs for food.” Cloudpaw sounded genuinely puzzled. “What’s the problem?”

Seething with frustration, Fireheart growled, “I can’t help wondering if your mother did the right thing in giving up her firstborn kit to be a Clan cat.”

“Well, she’s done it now,” Cloudpaw hissed back. “So you’re stuck with me!”

“I may be stuck with you as an apprentice, but I can keep you from becoming a warrior!” threatened Fireheart.

Cloudpaw’s eyes widened in surprise. “You wouldn’t! You couldn’t! I’m going to become such a great fighter that you won’t be able to stop me.” He glared defiantly at Fireheart.

“How many times do I have to tell you, there’s more to being a warrior than hunting and fighting. You have to know what you’re hunting and fighting for!” Fireheart fought back the fury that rose in his chest.

“I know what I’m fighting for. The same as you — survival!”

Fireheart stared at Cloudpaw in disbelief. “I fight for the Clan, not myself,” he growled.

Cloudpaw gazed steadily back at him. “Okay,” he mewed. “I’ll fight for the Clan, if that’s what it takes to become a warrior. It’s all the same in the end.”

Fireheart felt like clawing some sense into the mouse-brained young cat, but he took a deep breath and meowed as calmly as he could, “You can’t live with a paw in two worlds, Cloudpaw. You’re going to have to decide. You must choose whether you want to live by the warrior code as a Clan cat, or whether you want the life of a kittypet.” As he spoke, he recalled Bluestar saying exactly the same thing when Tigerclaw had spotted him talking to his old kittypet friend, Smudge, at the edge of the forest. The difference was that Fireheart had had no trouble recognizing where his loyalties lay. He had been a Clan cat from the moment he had stepped into the forest, in his own mind at least.

Cloudpaw looked taken aback. “Why must I choose? I like my life the way it is, and I’m not going to change it just to make you feel better!” He glared. “You and Healer think you can change me. At least she decided to let me make my own decisions!”

“It’s not just to make me feel better,” Fireheart spat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Healer had said to his apprentice. “It’s for the good of the Clan! The life of a kittypet goes against everything in the warrior code.” He watched incredulously as Cloudpaw ignored him and picked up his shrew, then marched past him toward the camp. Fireheart took a long breath, resisting the urge to chase Cloudpaw out of ThunderClan territory once and for all. Let him decide for himself. He repeated Sandstorm’s words under his breath as he followed his apprentice back to the camp. After all, he told himself desperately, Cloudpaw wasn’t doing any harm by eating kittypet food. He just hoped none of the other cats found out.

As they neared the gorse tunnel, Fireheart heard the clatter of dirt cascading down the ravine. He stopped and waited, hoping it was Sandstorm returning from her hunt, but a warm scent on the early evening air told him it was Cinderpelt.

The small gray cat jumped awkwardly down from the last rock. Her jaws were full of herbs and she was limping heavily.

“Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.

Cinderpelt dropped the herbs. “I’m fine, honestly,” she puffed. “My leg is playing up, that’s all, and it took me longer than I thought to find the herbs.”

“You should tell Yellowfang,” Fireheart meowed. “She wouldn’t want you overdoing it.”

“No!” mewed Cinderpelt, shaking her head.

“Okay, okay,” Fireheart agreed, surprised by the strength of her refusal. “At least let me carry these herbs for you.”

Cinderpelt blinked gratefully at him. “May StarClan banish all the fleas from your nest,” she purred, her eyes twinkling. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that Yellowfang is very busy. Willowpelt began her kitting this afternoon.”

Fireheart felt a flicker of anxiety. The last kitting he had seen had been Silverstream’s. “Is she okay?”

Cinderpelt glanced away. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I offered to collect herbs instead of helping.” A shadow crossed her face. “I. . .I didn’t want to be there....”

Fireheart guessed that she too was thinking of Silverstream. “Come on then,” he meowed. “The sooner we find out how she’s doing, the sooner we can stop worrying.” He quickened his pace.

“Hold on!” winced Cinderpelt, limping after him. “You’ll be the first to know if I make a miraculous recovery. But for now you’ll have to slow down!”

As they entered the camp Fireheart knew instantly that Willowpelt’s kitting had been a success.

One-Eye and Dappletail were padding away from the nursery, their eyes soft with affection and their purrs audible even from this side of the clearing.

Sandstorm came dashing over to greet them with the good news. “Willowpelt had two toms and a she-kit!” she announced.

“How’s Willowpelt?” asked Cinderpelt anxiously.

“She’s fine,” Sandstorm assured her. “She’s feeding them already.”

Cinderpelt broke into a loud purr. “I must go and see,” she mewed, and hobbled toward the nursery.

Sandstorm grinned. “She sounds just like Cinderheart. That she-cat hasn’t stopped purring since the kits were born!”

“Why is that?” Fireheart asked, confused. “None of the time travelers have shown that much excitement at the new kits. When Brindleface had her kits, Jayfeather spent the entire time glaring at them. Then he was devastated when he couldn’t save Elderkit and didn’t sleep for two days trying so hard to save Tulipkit. What’s so different about this litter?”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Fireheart, you can be so oblivious.”

“I’m not oblivious!” he protested. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Cinderheart is from the future, and if she’s this excited to see these kits, cats who, in the future she hasn’t seen in a long time, than they are probably her family,” Sandstorm explained slowly. “Perhaps one of them is her father or mother.”

He frowned. “Are you sure? Ivypool never told us about both Cinderheart’s parents, just that one of them is Frostfur’s kit.”

“If Cinderpelt weren’t a medicine cat, I’d guess she was her mother,” Sandstorm meowed thoughtfully. “They’re basically identical.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the case,” Fireheart replied. “But that still leaves six cats to consider.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sandstorm promised. “Either that or we might eventually get some actual answers.”

Fireheart spat out his mouthful of herbs and looked around, remembering his wayward apprentice. “Where’s Cloudpaw?”

Sandstorm narrowed her eyes mischievously. “When Darkstripe saw what a measly catch he’d brought back, he sent him off to clean out the elders’ bedding.”

“Good,” Fireheart meowed, pleased for once with Darkstripe’s interference.

“Did you speak to Cloudpaw?” asked Sandstorm, her tone turning more serious.

“Yes.” Fireheart’s happiness at Willowpelt’s kitting disappeared like dew under the midday sun as he thought of his apprentice’s indifference.

“Well?” prompted Sandstorm. “What did he say?”

“I don’t think he even realizes he’s done anything wrong,” Fireheart meowed bleakly.

To his surprise, Sandstorm didn’t seem troubled. “He’s young,” she reminded Fireheart. “Don’t be too upset. Keep remembering his first catch, and that you share the same blood.” She gave him a gentle lick on the cheek. “With any luck it’ll show in Cloudpaw one day.” Seeing his sadness, she suggested, “Why don’t we go and see the new kits?”

She led the way to the nursery, where Bluestar was just squeezing out of the entrance. The old leader’s face was relaxed and her eyes were shining. As Sandstorm slipped inside, she declared triumphantly, “More warriors for ThunderClan!”

Fireheart purred. “We’ll have more warriors than any Clan soon!” he meowed.

The leader’s eyes clouded, and Fireheart felt a chill of unease spread across his fur. “Let’s just hope these little ones have a chance to enjoy their kithood without all the battles we’ve faced lately,” Bluestar sighed.

“Are you coming?” Sandstorm called to him from the warm shadows of the nursery. Fireheart pushed his way inside.

Willowpelt lay in a nest made of soft moss. Three kits squirmed in the curl of her body, still damp and blind as they kneaded their mother’s belly.

Fireheart saw a new softness enter Sandstorm’s expression. She leaned forward and breathed in the warm, milky scent of each kit in turn while Willowpelt looked on, her eyes sleepy but content.

“They’re great,” Fireheart whispered. It was good to see kits again, but he couldn’t help feeling a thorn-sharp stab of sorrow. The last newborn kits he’d seen had been Silverstream’s, and Fireheart’s mind flew instantly to Graystripe. He wondered how his old friend was — whether he was struggling to fit in, or whether his new life in RiverClan with his kits was going well.

 Behind him, Goldenflower was curled in her nest, her eyes closed and the Tawnykit sleeping soundly at her side. Meanwhile, Bramblekit looked as innocent as any of its nursery Clanmates, and he was playing with Honeykit and Hollykit.

Cinderheart was purring so loudly that he was surprised she hadn’t woken the sleeping cats. “Hello, Mother,” she whispered.

For a heartbeat, Fireheart thought he’d heard wrong. Then Sandstorm flicked his muzzle with her tail and he realized he hadn’t been mistaken.

“What did you say?” he asked softly.

She froze, then relaxed. “You heard what I said. Willowpelt’s daughter will be my mother in the future.”

The shock of that statement was enough to rouse Willowpelt. “Cinderheart…you’re my kin…or at least, kin of my kin?”

A shock like lightning went through Fireheart’s body and he could hear strangely whispered words in his mind: There will be three, kin of your kin, who will hold the power of the stars in their paws. As this was spoken, he could see visions of three cats he knew right here and now.

Jayfeather standing at the entrance to Mothermouth, speaking to a younger Sweetmint and bringing her away from it. Later, Jayfeather standing in a starlit Fourtrees with Silverstream and three cats whose fur sparkled with stars. Finally, an apprentice-age Jayfeather in a place he didn’t recognize pleading with a tortoiseshell she-cat, while Spottedleaf meowed something to them as well.

Lionblaze fighting in the WindClan camp, battling innumerable warriors who couldn’t lay a claw on him. An apprentice-age Lionblaze fighting a horde of strange cats on a mountaintop while they only managed to deal him a single wound to the ear. A slightly larger Lionblaze facing four RiverClan cats alone in an unknown forest and driving them off. A full-grown Lionblaze fighting some kind of strange brown creatures and escaping injury, while a RiverClan cat was killed by the same creatures.

An young apprentice-age Dovewing in the middle of some kind of stone hollow speaking to her Clanmates about the same brown creatures. No cat believed her, but Fireheart could see what she saw, hear what she heard, that these creatures lived far, far upstream and were blocking off the water. Dovewing demonstrating her abilities to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, while Lionblaze embarrassed himself in front of Sandstorm and Jayfeather tried to ignore Dovewing’s thoughts and feelings. Dovewing leading a group of cats from all four Clans along the dried streambed to find the brown creatures. Dovewing listening and watching cats in every Clan, who were now living around a massive body of water, far larger than the river.

An apprentice-age Hollyleaf eagerly trying and failing to discover her place in the prophecy. Hollyleaf feeling horror and fury when Ashfur trapped her and littermates in a fire and threatened to kill them until learning they weren’t truly their mother’s kits. Hollyleaf’s ambush and murder of Ashfur to protect her family, only to completely spiral after discovering that they are the half-Clan kits of a medicine cat. Announcing everything to the full Gathering before running away to flee through tunnels. Being nearly killed in a rockfall and Fallen Leaves saving her. Becoming friends with Fallen Leaves and being sent back in time, taking the names Healer and Cavern respectively, and spending seasons saving the lives of cats who would have otherwise died.

An apprentice-age Ivypool feeling jealous of the success and praise Dovewing finds in her hunting, while she only manages average catches. Ivypool meeting a blue-eyed version of Tigerclaw, Hawkfrost, who offers to teach her battle moves so that she can have her own area of expertise. Ivypool demonstrating what she’s learned in a training session and being praised by the older warriors. Ivypool being convinced by Hawkfrost and Tigerstar to convince Firestar to start a battle with ShadowClan. Being sent back in time and witnessing the death of Bluepaw’s mother because of a needless battle. Ivypool finally confessing everything to her companions, and them confessing their secrets in turn.

“Fireheart!” Sandstorm’s terrified voice brought him back from wherever his mind had gone. He felt warmth on one side. “Fireheart, please wake up!”

“Give him a minute.” Jayfeather was gruff, but he also sounded afraid. “His mind has just been sent on a mash-up journey across Dovewing, Lionblaze, and my memories. I’ve never seen anything like this before. It may take some time for him to recover.”

Groaning, Fireheart opened his eyes. Jayfeather was standing over him, his blind eyes glaring into his own. Sandstorm was crouched with her pelt pressed against his. Lionblaze and Dovewing were watching them warily.

“You three have even more secrets than I realized,” Fireheart rasped, looking at them in awe.

Sandstorm frowned. “What do you mean? What happened to you?”

“Let me answer that,” Jayfeather ordered. When the four cats fixed their attention on him, he explained. “Cinderheart has missed her family so much, and I understand it, that when Willowpelt had her kits, she couldn’t help but welcome her mother to the Clan. Willowpelt, half-asleep and exhausted from giving birth, recognized the meaning of that as Cinderheart not just being her kin, but ‘kin of her kin’.”

“The prophecy!” Dovewing gasped.

“What prophecy?” Sandstorm demanded, pressing even closer to Fireheart. He closed his eyes, relishing in her support as he recovered.

Lionblaze spoke slowly and dramatically. “There will be three, kin of your kin, who will hold the power of the stars in their paws.”

“And you’re the three?” Sandstorm guessed.

Jayfeather nodded. “We all have special powers that are meant to help us win the final battle someday.”

“Except that someday is farther away than it used to be because StarClan sent us back in time to fight our enemy here and how?”

“How?” Sandstorm asked. Fireheart had a guess, something he had realized vaguely in his visions.

“StarClan wants you to limit the amount of enemies you have to fight later on,” he rasped.

Jayfeather looked impressed, a rare thing for him to be. “That is correct. By coming back when we did, we have made the Clans stronger and hopefully continue to weaken our enemy when the time comes.” His gaze became fierce. “You cannot tell any other cat that we have powers. It’s too dangerous for this to be common knowledge right now.”

“Are there any cats who do know?” Sandstorm wondered.

“Bluestar knows,” he replied. “We at least had to tell her so she wouldn’t be confused when I kept bringing cats back to life.”

So he really did bring Silverstream back after she’d died. “What powers do you have?” Fireheart growled, his voice more serious than it had ever been. He had an idea about what they were, but he needed to be sure, and Sandstorm deserved to know too.

Lionblaze went first. “I can fight like the best warrior who ever lived, impervious to any injury inflicted on me by other creatures unless I want to be injured, move slightly faster than any other cat, and I have more strength than any living cat.” 

That makes sense.

Dovewing went next. “I can see, hear, and scent for extremely large distances. In these territories, I can sense all the way to Mothermouth. For example, Barley and Ravenpaw are visiting caged birds right now.”

That’s why she was so overwhelmed by the Moonstone! Why had Bluestar brought her into the cave if she knew about Dovewing’s powers? Surely she’d realized it could hurt her.

Jayfeather began to list off his impressive list of abilities. “I can feel others’ emotions as my own, read their thoughts, view their memories as the cat whose memory it is, enter other cats’ dreams, bring cats back from death if they haven’t fully joined StarClan yet, see in my dreams, see in the waking world if a StarClan or ancient cat is there, time travel to the time of the ancients, and basically do whatever it is I’m needed to do.”

“Oh, is that all?” Sandstorm muttered.

Fireheart, meanwhile, felt sympathy for these cats who were his kin. “You’ve all sacrificed so much,” he murmured. “Jayfeather, I know how much you wanted to be a warrior, and I’m sorry StarClan forced you into a role you never chose. Lionblaze, I’m sorry you felt so disconnected from your peers once you learned of the prophecy, and I’m sorry you both suffered so much after finding about about your parentage.” His visions had showed him this, and pretty much everything he wanted to know except for any direct relationships cats might have in the future, besides being littermates. “And, Dovewing…I am so sorry you found yourself thrust into so much responsibility as a new apprentice. None of you should have been forced to struggle with that. I’m sorry for what the prophecy and the secrets did to Hollyleaf.” Grief flooded him as he remembered the pain and anger his granddaughter had felt, how desperately she had convinced herself that murdering Ashfur was the right thing.

“You saw all that?” Dovewing gasped.

He nodded. “I did. And I promise that next time, things will be different. Perhaps we can find a way to end your fight before it begins. You all deserve a chance to live happy, burdenless lives.”

Sandstorm nodded too. “I don’t know what he saw, or what you’ve been through, but I agree with him. If we fail, and you still have burdens, we will share them with you. You are not alone in this.”

*  *  *  *  *

Fireheart awoke early the next day, feeling utterly exhausted. Thoughts of what had happened the day before hung heavily on his mind. Talking to Sandstorm had helped, but he longed to know what Graystripe would say. Fireheart lay in his nest for a few moments before he made up his mind: He would go to the river today to see if he could find his old friend.

He slipped out of the den and gave himself a long, satisfying stretch. The sun was only just showing on the horizon, and there was a powdery softness in the early morning sky. Dustpelt was sitting in the middle of the clearing talking with Ashpaw. Fireheart wondered if they were about to head out for a training session.

Fireheart approached the pair. When Dustpelt saw him coming, his eyes hardened.

“Dustpelt,” Fireheart greeted him, “will you take the sunhigh patrol?”

Ashpaw’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can I go too?”

“Of course,” meowed Dustpelt. “You’re doing well in your training, and this will be a good experience for you.”

“Perhaps you could bring Sandstorm and Owltuft,” Fireheart suggested. He didn’t want to provoke a scornful response, but this could be a chance to smooth out some of the hostility Dustpelt usually showed toward him. “That way you’d have two more warriors and apprentices.”

“That would be awesome!” Fireheart winced at the young tom’s enthusiasm; it was a far cry from the hatred and madness he’d seen in Ashfur’s eyes through Hollyleaf. Then he shook his head. His kin had been sent back to change things. Perhaps they could change what Ashfur had become while they were at it, or maybe he could help too.

“Don’t worry,” Dustpelt assured him. His eyes were filled with uncharacteristic concern. “We’ll make sure the borders are safe.”

“Er...good,” meowed Fireheart, padding away. He couldn’t believe that he’d had a whole conversation with Dustpelt without the warrior uttering a single barbed jibe. Granted, the warrior had been a lot less hostile since Stripestalk had left.

Once he was out of the ravine, Fireheart raced toward Sunningrocks. The ground was so dry that his paws threw up small clouds of dust where they pounded over the forest floor. When he reached the great stone slabs, he noticed that the plants growing between the cracks had shriveled and died, and it dawned on him with a shock that it had been almost two moons since it had rained.

He skirted the bottom edge of the rocks and headed for the scent markers at the edge of RiverClan territory. The forest thinned out and sloped down to the river here. The air was filled with birdsong and the whispering of wind-stirred leaves, and in the background Fireheart could hear the steady lap of water. He stopped and sniffed the air. There was no scent of Graystripe. If he was going to see his friend, Fireheart would have to venture into RiverClan territory. Determination made him more willing than usual to take the risk. Their dawn patrol would be out, but with any luck they would be patrolling the other borders now.

Fireheart crept cautiously across the scentline and pushed his way through the ferns to the edge of the water, feeling exposed and vulnerable. There was still no sign of Graystripe. Did he dare cross the river and try his luck deeper in RiverClan territory? It would be easy enough — the water was shallow now, so he could wade most of the way, apart from the deep channel in the middle, where the current was slow enough to swim without too much difficulty. After all, he’d grown more used to water than most ThunderClan cats during the terrible floods of newleaf.

An unexpected scent drifting into his half-open mouth made Fireheart stiffen in surprise. It was the stench of ShadowClan! What were ShadowClan cats doing so far from home? The whole of ThunderClan’ s territory lay between their land and the river.

Alarmed, Fireheart backed into the ferns. He inhaled deeply, trying to pinpoint where the smell came from. With a sickening feeling, he recognized more than the scent of ShadowClan. There was a rancid tang of illness to it that he had smelled recently, and it was coming from farther upriver.

Fireheart began to creep slowly through the ferns, their browning tips whispering against his fur. He could see the gnarled tru nk of an ancient oak tree ahead of him, just inside the ThunderClan border. Its twisted roots stuck out of the forest floor, the earth under which they had once been buried long since eroded by wind and rain. Now there was a space underneath, a small cave walled by roots. Fireheart sniffed again. The smell was definitely coming from there, tainted by the unmistakable stench of sickness.

Fear and the desire to protect his Clan made Fireheart instinctively unsheathe his claws. Whatever foulness was in that cave must be driven out of ThunderClan territory. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Fireheart raced from the ferns. He arched his back and stood threateningly in the mouth of the root cave, ready for a fight. But he was met by a heavy silence, broken with shallow, rasping breaths.

He stared into the gloom, his hackles raised. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he blinked in surprise. The last time he’d seen these cats, they’d been disappearing under the Thunderpath, back to their own territory. It was the two ShadowClan warriors who had sought help from ThunderClan — Littlecloud and Whitethroat.

“Why have you come back?” Fireheart spat. “Go home, before you infect every Clan in the forest!” He drew back his lips, baring his teeth, when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“Fireheart, stop! Leave them alone!”

“Cinderpelt! What are you doing here?" Fireheart spun around to face the medicine cat. “Did you know about this?”

A pile of herbs lay between Cinderpelt’s paws. She lifted her chin defiantly. “They needed my help. There was nothing for them in their camp but sickness.”

“So they came straight back!” Fireheart glared at her angrily. “Where did you find them?”

“Near Sunningrocks. I smelled their sickness when I was out collecting herbs yesterday. They were looking for a safe place to hide,” explained Cinderpelt.

“And you brought them here.” Fireheart snorted. “They probably only came back onto our land because they knew you’d take pity on them.” Cinderpelt’s concern for the ShadowClan cats had been obvious when they were in the ThunderClan camp. “Did you think you could treat them without any cat finding out?” Fireheart demanded. He couldn’t believe that Cinderpelt had exposed herself — and the rest of the Clan — to such a risk.

Cinderpelt met his eyes, undaunted. “Don’t pretend you’re really angry with me. You felt just as sorry for them,” she reminded him. “You couldn’t have turned them away a second time either!”

Fireheart could see that she believed she had done the right thing, and he had to admit the truth in her words — he couldn’t deny he felt sorry for the sick cats, and had felt uncomfortable with Bluestar’s lack of compassion. “Does Yellowfang know?” he asked, his anger fading.

“No, I don’t think so,” answered Cinderpelt. “But Bluestar does. She told me that if they came back, I should try to help them, that finding a cure was the right thing to do and would be beneficial for both our Clans.”

“How sick are they?”

“They’re starting to recover.” Cinderpelt allowed a hint of satisfaction to enter her voice.

“I still smell sickness,” Fireheart meowed suspiciously.

“Well, they’re not completely cured yet. But they will be.”

Littlecloud’s voice rasped from the shadows behind him. “We’re getting better, thanks to Cinderpelt.”

Fireheart could hear that Littlecloud’s voice was already stronger than it had been in the ThunderClan camp, and the young warrior’s eyes shone brightly in the gloom. “They do sound better,” he admitted, turning back to the young medicine cat. “How did you do it? Yellowfang seemed to think this sickness was deadly.”

“I must have found the right combination of herbs and berries,” Cinderpelt replied happily. Fireheart noticed she spoke with a confidence he’d not heard in her for a while, and he recognized the spirit of the lively, strong-willed apprentice he had once trained.

“Well done!” he meowed. He thought instinctively of how Bluestar would relish the news that a ThunderClan cat might have found a cure for ShadowClan’ s strange sickness. But then he realized that if she had ordered this in the first place, it would be pointless to tell her that Cinderpelt had been hiding ShadowClan cats in ThunderClan territory. Her decision had been to let trust Cinderpelt’s skills and judgement.

Fireheart realized that as long as the ShadowClan cats remained here, they were in danger. He was afraid the other warriors would kill them at once if it was discovered that they were still on ThunderClan territory. “I’m sorry, Cinderpelt.” He shook his head. “These cats must leave. It’s not safe for them here.”

Cinderpelt flicked her tail in frustration. “They’re too ill to return to their own camp yet. I might be able to heal them, but I’m no good as a hunter. They haven’t eaten properly for days.”

“I’ll catch them something now,” Fireheart offered. “It should give them enough strength to travel home.”

“But what about when we get back?” Whitethroat rasped from the shadows.

Fireheart couldn’t answer that, but he couldn’t risk their sickness finding its way into the ThunderClan camp. What if a ShadowClan patrol came into ThunderClan territory looking for their missing warriors? “I’ll feed you; then you must go,” he repeated.

Littlecloud’s voice was hoarse and high-pitched as he pushed himself to a sitting position, his paws scrabbling on the hard earth. “Please don’t send us back! Nightstar is so weak. It’s as if the sickness takes a new life from him each day. Most of the Clan thinks he’s going to die.”

Fireheart frowned. “Surely he has plenty of lives left.”

“You haven’t seen how ill he is!” cried Whitethroat. “The Clan is scared. There’s no cat ready to take his place. We can’t return until we have a cure for our Clanmates!”

“What about Cinderfur, your deputy?” asked Fireheart. The two ShadowClan cats looked away and didn’t answer. Did that mean that Cinderfur had died already, or that he was just too old to become a leader? Like Nightstar, Cinderfur had been an elder when Brokentail had been driven out. Fireheart felt his sympathy winning in spite of his better judgment. “Okay.” He sighed reluctantly. “You can stay here until you’re strong enough to travel.”

“Thank you, Fireheart,” Littlecloud meowed wheezily. His eyes glittered with gratitude. Fireheart dipped his head, realizing how hard it must be for these proud ShadowClan warriors to admit they were dependent on another Clan.

He turned away and padded past Cinderpelt. She whispered as he passed, “Thanks, Fireheart. I knew you would understand why I took them in.” Her eyes brimmed with compassion. “I couldn’t let them die. Even. . .even if they were from another Clan.” And Fireheart knew she was thinking of Silverstream, the RiverClan queen she had not been able to save, whom Jayfeather had pulled away from StarClan. Now he finally understand, how the blind medicine cat had managed it.

He licked her ear affectionately. “You are a true medicine cat,” he purred. “That’s why Yellowfang chose you as her apprentice.”

It didn’t take Fireheart long to catch a thrush and a rabbit for the ShadowClan cats. This part of the forest was rich in prey. He was careful not to stray across the RiverClan border, although it was tempting — the scent of prey was strong from there, and it had been a long time since Fireheart had tasted water vole. But he was pleased with the juicy rabbit he found beside Sunningrocks, and the thrush was an easy catch, too busy cracking open a snail to hear his stealthy approach.

Cinderpelt was crouched beside the ancient oak when he returned, chewing berries and spitting the pulp into her herb mixture. Fireheart nudged the fresh-kill into the root cave, but he didn’t enter. The stench of sickness made him wary of going inside.

He looked at Cinderpelt as she worked, feeling a sudden tingle of fear for the small cat. She must have entered the cave many times. “Are you okay?” he meowed quietly.

Cinderpelt looked up from her herbs. “Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. “And I’m glad you found out about these cats. I didn’t like keeping secrets from the Clan.”

Fireheart flicked his tail uneasily. “I think we should keep this to ourselves,” he told her.

Cinderpelt narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you going to tell Bluestar?”

“Normally I would — ” Fireheart began hesitantly.

“But there’s no point since she already gave me permission,” Cinderpelt finished.

Fireheart sighed. “Perhaps I should tell her that I know. . .” He trailed away.

“You seem like you have more important things to worry about,” mewed Cinderpelt.

“You noticed that?”

“To be honest,” Cinderpelt murmured regretfully, “I think most of the Clan has.”

“What are they saying?” Fireheart wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“This is a complicated time to be deputy. They trust you and know that you will prove yourself.” Cinderpelt’s reply soothed Fireheart. The Clan’s faith was moving, and should be trusted.

“Are you coming back with me?” he meowed.

“I have to finish up here.” Cinderpelt picked up another berry with her teeth and started to chew.

Fireheart felt strange as he walked away, leaving Cinderpelt alone with the two ShadowClan cats and a stench that made his fur creep. He wondered if he’d done the right thing by letting them stay.

Outside the ThunderClan camp, he sheltered beneath a leafy bush and gave himself a good wash. He screwed up his eyes at the stink of the sick ShadowClan cats. He wished he could wash away the taste with a drink from the stream behind the training hollow, but it had dried up days ago. He’d have to follow its course back toward the river if he were to find water, and it was time he returned, before his Clanmates started to wonder where he was. He would return to find Graystripe another day.

Sandstorm met him as he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the clearing. He felt delight flood through when he saw her. After what they’d learned yesterday, he felt that they had a special bond. Maybe he did have a chance with her.

“Been hunting?” she asked.

“Looking for Graystripe, honestly.” Fireheart decided to admit to the easiest part of the truth.

“I don’t suppose you found any signs of Cloudpaw then,” Sandstorm meowed, apparently unconcerned by Fireheart’ s admission.

“He’s not in camp?”

“He went out hunting first thing this morning.”

Fireheart knew she suspected the same as he did — that Cloudpaw was paying another visit to the Twolegs. “What should I do?”

“Why don’t we go and find him together?” suggested Sandstorm. “Perhaps if I talk to him too, we can make him see sense.”

Fireheart nodded gratefully. “It’s worth a try,” he agreed. “I always enjoy your company.”

He led the way through Tallpines, neither cat speaking as they ran lightly over the ground. The air was still, and the needles felt soft and cool beneath their paws. Fireheart was acutely aware that this trail was as familiar to him as the route to Fourtrees or Sunningrocks, but Sandstorm was more cautious, pausing every so often to sniff the air and check for scent markings.

As they padded out from the pine forest and into the green woods, Fireheart sensed that Sandstorm’s anxiety was building. He glanced at her and saw the tension in her shoulders as the line of Twoleg nests loomed ahead of them.

“Are you sure this is the way he would have come?” she whispered, looking nervously from side to side. A dog barked and Sandstorm’s fur bristled.

“It’s okay, the dog won’t leave its garden,” Fireheart assured her, feeling uncomfortable that he knew things like this. Sandstorm had taunted him about his kittypet origins when he had first joined the Clan, and now that she accepted him so completely as a forest cat, he was reluctant to remind her that he had been born somewhere different.

“Don’t the Twolegs bring their dogs out here?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” Fireheart admitted. “But we’ll have plenty of warning. Twoleg dogs don’t exactly creep through the woods. You’ll hear them before you smell them, and their stench isn’t subtle.” He hoped his humor might help Sandstorm relax, but she remained as tense as ever.

“Come on,” he urged. “Cloudpaw’s scent is here.” He rubbed his cheek against a bramble stem. “Does it smell fresh to you?”

Sandstorm leaned forward and sniffed the bramble. “Yes.”

“Then I think we can guess where he was heading.” Fireheart padded around the bramble, relieved that at least the trail was leading them away from Princess’s garden. He had no desire for Sandstorm to meet his kittypet sister just yet. Since he had brought Cloudpaw to the camp, the Clan all knew that he visited her, but they had no real idea of the affection that bonded him to Princess, and he preferred to keep it that way. It was best to keep the other cats as certain as he was that his heart lay with the Clan, in spite of his friendship with his sister.

As they neared the fence that Cloudpaw had climbed the day before, Fireheart felt an ominous chill ripple through his pelt. There were new scents here, as well as Cloudpaw’s. Something had changed. He led Sandstorm to the silver birch and she followed him lightly up the smooth trunk and into its branches. Fireheart could see her whiskers twitching as she sniffed the air.

Fireheart peered through the windows in the Twoleg nest. The space inside looked curiously dark and empty. He jumped as a door slammed, making a strange echoing bang like a thunderclap. He began to feel alarmed.

“What is it?” asked Sandstorm nervously as Fireheart leaped down to the fence, his tail fluffed up.

“There’s something strange going on. The nest is empty. Stay there,” he ordered. “I’m going to have a closer look.”

He crept across the garden, keeping low. As he neared the door to the Twoleg nest he heard pawsteps behind him. He spun around and saw Sandstorm, her face tense but determined. He nodded at her, surprised and happy that she was willing to risk potential danger like this, silently agreeing she could stay with him if she wanted, then turned toward the door again.

Just then, the loud rumble of a monster started up. Fireheart slipped down the passage that skirted one side of the nest. His fur bristled with fear, but he kept going until he had reached the end of the pathway. He peered out from the shadows to where bright sunshine flooded a treeless maze of Twoleg nests and pathways.

He felt Sandstorm panting at his side, her pelt lightly brushing his. “Look,” he hissed. A gigantic monster, almost as big as a Twoleg nest, stood on the Thunderpath. The deafening growl was coming from the belly of the monster.

Both cats flinched as another door to the nest clattered shut just around the corner from them. Fireheart saw a Twoleg walking toward the monster with something swinging from its hand. It looked like a den woven from brittle dead stems. Through the hard mesh at one end of the den, Fireheart could see a soft white pelt.

He peered closer, and felt his heart lurch as he recognized the face behind the mesh, its eyes stretched wide with terror.

It was Cloudpaw!

Chapter Text

“Help! Don’t let them take me!” Fireheart heard Cloudpaw’s desperate yowling above the noise of the roaring monster.

The Twoleg took no notice. It clambered into the monster with Cloudpaw and slammed the door shut. In a cloud of choking fumes, the monster pulled away and headed up the Thunderpath.

“No! Wait!”

Fireheart ignored Sandstorm’s cry as he dashed out of the passageway and pelted after the monster. The rough stone path tore at his pads, but as fast as he ran, the monster went faster, until it rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

Fireheart skidded to a halt, his paws stinging and his heart pounding. Sandstorm called to him again. “Fireheart! Comeback!”

Fireheart glanced in despair at the empty Thunderpath where the monster had stood just moments before and then hurried back to Sandstorm. Numb with shock, he blindly followed Sandstorm as she led him along the passageway, past the nest, through the garden, and over the fence into the safety of the woods.

“Fireheart!” Sandstorm gasped when they landed on the leafy forest floor. “Are you okay?”

Fireheart couldn’t answer. He stared at the blank fence, trying to take in what he had just seen. The Twolegs had stolen Cloudpaw! Fireheart couldn’t block out the look of fear on the young cat’s face. Where were they taking him? Wherever it was, Cloudpaw hadn’t wanted to go.

“Your pads are bleeding,” murmured Sandstorm.

Fireheart lifted a foreleg and turned over his paw to look. He gazed blankly at the oozing blood until Sandstorm leaned forward and began to lick the grit from his wounds. It stung, but Fireheart didn’t protest. The rhythmic licks comforted him, stirring long-distant memories of kithood. Gradually the panic that had frozen his mind began to melt away. “He’s gone,” he meowed dismally. His heart felt like a hollow log, ringing with sorrow at every beat.

“He’ll find his way home,” Sandstorm told him. Fireheart looked at her calm green eyes and felt a flicker of hope. “If he wants to,” she added. Her words pierced him like thorns, but her eyes were full of sympathy, and Fireheart knew she was only speaking the truth. “Cloudpaw might be happier where he’s going,” she meowed. “You want him to be happy, don’t you?”

Fireheart nodded slowly.

“Come on then; let’s get back to camp.” Sandstorm’s mew was still gentle, and Fireheart felt a surge of frustration.

“It’s easy for you!” he argued. “Your apprentice has been obedient and cooperative since the start, but mine has a pain in the tail since he joined the Clan.”

With every word, With every step, the thorn-sharp worry about what Fireheart was going to say to the rest of the Clan added to his misery. He imagined how Darkstripe would gloat when he discovered Fireheart’s kin had gone back to the soft life of a kittypet. Once a kittypet, always a kittypet! Perhaps the jibe that had haunted Fireheart for so long had an element of truth in it after all.

“Tulippaw doesn’t always listen to me,” Sandstorm murmured softly. “Every apprentice rebels at some point.”

Fireheart stopped and dropped to the ground, resting his muzzle on his paws. “Yeah, but Cloudpaw has spent basically every moment rebelling.”

“That’s why he needs this lesson.” Healer’s voice startled him, and he looked up to see that black she-cat padding calmly towards them.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “And what are you talking about?”

“I told Cloudpaw the first time I caught him that he was being foolish and breaking the warrior code by taking food from Twolegs,” she meowed, not answering his question. “When he refused to listen, I told him that I would be watching him whenever he was in Twolegplace, but I would not interfere if anything ever happened.”

That meant she’d been watching when Cloudpaw had been taken and done nothing! Fury raged inside him and he leaped at her biting and swiping. “How dare you let him be taken! He’s your kin too!”

She ducked under his badly aimed attacks, and when he tried to charge her, she ducked her head, knocking forepaw from under him with her muzzle. Now low to the ground, she rolled onto her side from there and thrust her hind legs in a powerful kick that sent him flying.

He landed with a thud, the breath knocked from his lungs. Sandstorm ran to his side, sniffing at him. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“‘m fine,” he muttered, embarrassed that his granddaughter had beaten him so easily. “Why didn’t you help him?” he demanded, feeling the anger slowly drain away, leaving a dull emptiness.

“I told you, Fireheart, Cloudpaw needs to learn his lesson.” Healer’s voice was kind, but firm. She believed she’d done the right thing. “That move I just used on you: I learned it from Cloudpaw’s apprentice. He’ll eventually become an excellent warrior and mentor, but he has to learn loyalty to the warrior code and his Clan first. That is something that comes from being ripped away from the Clan like this.”

Fireheart realized she was right and forced himself to his paws, leaning against Sandstorm for strength.

The pale ginger she-cat was bristling, her eyes narrowed. “How did you learn from Cloudpaw and his future apprentice? The only cat I know of that fits that description is Cinderheart, and she’s a time traveler.”

For the first time, Healer’s confidence faded. “Well, I–”

“Something else that’s strange is how much you look like Hollykit. I know that Lionblaze named her after his sister, and he and Cinderheart have mentioned how similar she looks to you.”

“Lionblaze and Cinderheart have kits?” Healer gasped. Guiltily, Fireheart realized he’d never told her. With so much chaos in ThunderClan, he hadn’t gotten a chance. She swung her head to glare at him. “Why didn’t you tell  me? Didn’t you think I’d like to know?”

Fireheart nodded, but before he could say anything else, Sandstorm meowed, “And from the way you’ve just reacted, I’d say there’s only one cat you could be.”

Healer shook her head desperately. “Please don’t say it!”

“Hello, Hollyleaf.”

The black she-cat sighed in resignation. “Hello, Sandstorm.”

“Your brothers and your friend miss you,” Sandstorm told her. “They think you’re dead.”

“They were supposed to think that,” Hollyleaf muttered. “I can’t go back to face them.”

Fireheart gave her a sympathetic look. “Because you killed Ashfur and then revealed your parentage at a Gathering?”

“What?” “How did you know?” Sandstorm and Hollyleaf gasped at the same time.

He didn’t have time to explain to Sandstorm right now. “Cinderheart’s mother was born yesterday,” he told Hollyleaf. “When Cinderheart let that information slip, Willowpelt realized that she was ‘kin of her kin’.”

“The prophecy,” Hollyleaf realized.

He nodded. “I had a series of visions that allowed me to experience significant moments in the Three’s lives, including yours. I watched Ashfur trap you and your littermates and try to kill you in that fire. Then I watched him let you go because he was going to use the truth about your parents to hurt all of you. You killed him to protect your brothers, only to expose the truth yourself when you learned everything, and you fled into the tunnels. They collapsed on top of you, making it seem like you had been killed, but Fallen Leaves saved you and you became friends.”

He stopped speaking. It was so quiet he could an ant crawling on the forest floor.

Hollyleaf closed her eyes. “You can’t tell them I’m here!” She wasn’t begging him–he’d already promised to protect her. No, she was staring fearfully at Sandstorm.

“I don’t understand why you still need to hide,” Sandstorm said quietly. “What’s happened has not yet happened, and there’s still time to change things.”

“I can’t go back; I can’t face them until I’ve atoned for Ashfur’s death, for the pain I caused my brothers. Please!”

Sandstorm hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. I won’t tell any cat I’ve seen you. But if I’m going to end up smelling like I’ve been speaking with another cat, what should I call you?”

“She goes by Healer,” Fireheart answered for his granddaughter. “That’s her role in Twolegplace, and it’s the name she’s taken on.”

“Very well, Healer,” Sandstorm meowed. “You’d better go now. This is technically ThunderClan territory, and if you aren’t rejoining the Clan, you’re trespassing.”

Healer nodded. “You go back to your Clan; I’ll go get Cloudpaw.”

“You will?” Fireheart asked in surprise.

She nodded. “I know exactly where he is. We’ll be back when you most need us.” With a flick of her tail, she ran off and disappeared into the shadows.

Sandstorm smiled at him. “Come on. It’s time to go home.”

She led the way through the trees, moving at a slow, unworried pace. Sunlight broke through the leaves, scattering into patches of warmth on the forest floor.

The scuttling of a mouse under the pine trees distracted him. The Clan still had to be fed. Fireheart crouched instinctively, but there was no joy in the hunt this time. He chased and caught the mouse with cold swiftness and carried it toward the camp.

The sun was touching the tips of the trees when he reached the gorse tunnel, letting Sandstorm go through first. He paused and took a steadying breath before he walked into the clearing, the mouse swinging between his jaws.

The Clan was sharing tongues around the clearing after their evening meal. Mousefur met him at the entrance and Fireheart wondered if she had been waiting for his return. “You’ve been gone a long time,” she observed mildly. “Is everything okay?”

Fireheart glanced awkwardly away. He felt he should share his news about Cloudpaw with Bluestar first.

“Whitestorm organized the evening patrol in your absence,” Mousefur went on.

“Er. . .good. . .thanks,” Fireheart stammered. Mousefur dipped her head politely and padded away.

As Fireheart watched her go, he tried to tell himself that Cloudpaw’s loss didn’t mean he was alone in the Clan. Most of the cats seemed to accept him as deputy. Fireheart just wished he could be sure that StarClan felt the same way, and his earlier fears clouded his mind like noisy fluttering crows. Was Cloudpaw’s loss a sign that StarClan wanted to punish ThunderClan by depriving it of a potential warrior? Even worse, were the Clan’s warrior ancestors signaling that kittypets didn’t belong in the Clan?

Fireheart felt as if his legs were about to give way under the weight of his anxiety. He dropped his offering on the pile of fresh-kill and looked around. Sandstorm was lying beside Runningwind, a sparrow in her paws. Fireheart flinched as the ginger she-cat cast him a kind glance. He wanted to join her, but first he had to tell Bluestar about Cloudpaw.

Fireheart crossed to the leader’s den and called a greeting at the entrance. He was surprised when Whitestorm’s voice answered. He poked his head through the lichen and saw Bluestar curled in her nest, her head up and eyes shining as she shared tongues with Whitestorm. For once the ThunderClan leader looked like any other warrior, enjoying the company of a trusted friend. And as he saw the contented expression on Bluestar’s face, Fireheart shied away from disturbing her with his bad news. He’d tell her later.

“Yes, what is it?” asked Bluestar.

“I. . . I just wondered if you were hungry,” Fireheart stammered.

“Oh.” Bluestar sounded puzzled. “Thank you, but Whitestorm brought me something.” She dipped her head toward the half-eaten pigeon that lay on the floor of her den.

“Er. . .fine. I’ll leave you to eat it then.” Fireheart quickly backed out before she could ask what he had been up to. He returned to the fresh-kill pile, picked up the mouse he’d caught earlier, and carried it toward the nettle clump where Sandstorm and Runningwind lay.

Sandstorm lit up when she saw him coming and moved over to give him some space. Fireheart dropped his mouse onto the ground.

“Hi, there,” Runningwind greeted him. “I thought you were going to miss mealtime.”

Fireheart tried to purr a friendly reply, but his answer came out hoarsely. “Busy day.” Runningwind glanced at Sandstorm, who was still smiling, and Fireheart thought he saw the lean warrior’s whiskers twitch.

“Thank you, earlier,” Fireheart whispered to Sandstorm. “For coming with me.”

“Of course,” she muttered, looking at him. “I would never have let you face something like that alone.”

“You’ve been a good friend,” Fireheart persisted. Strangely though, he felt an odd twinge at his words. It’s too bad we can’t be more. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Healer.”

“I can see why you didn’t.”

“Are you upset with me?” Fireheart meowed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she replied simply. “So, no, I’m not angry.”

Relieved, Fireheart lay down beside her and began to crunch on his mouse. Runningwind hadn’t uttered a word, but Fireheart noticed that his eyes were glowing with amusement. His interaction with Sandstorm was obviously attracting attention from the other warriors. Fireheart felt a self-conscious prickle ripple through his fur, and he looked awkwardly around the clearing.

Darkstripe was sitting in front of the apprentices’ den talking to Ashpaw. Fireheart wondered why he was speaking to Dustpelt’s apprentice instead of sharing a meal with the other warriors. Ashpaw was shaking his head, but the dark tabby warrior carried on talking until Ashpaw lowered his eyes and began to pad across the clearing toward the nettle patch.

Fireheart’s ears twitched. From the way Darkstripe was watching the young gray apprentice, he could tell something was up.

Ashpaw stopped in front of Fireheart, his small body stiff and his tail flicking nervously.

“Is something wrong?” Fireheart asked.

“I was just wondering where Cloudpaw was,” mewed Ashpaw. “He said he’d be back by mealtime.”

Fireheart gazed past the apprentice at the dark tabby who watching them closely, his amber eyes glinting with undisguised interest. “Tell Darkstripe that if he wants to know, he should ask me himself!” he snapped. This was the cat who’d tried to kill his grandkits, who’d pushed Hollyleaf to murder.

Ashpaw flinched. “I. . .I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Darkstripe told me. . .” The apprentice shuffled his paws and suddenly looked up, staring Fireheart straight in the eye. “Actually, it’s not just Darkstripe who wants to know. I’m worried, too. Cloudpaw promised he’d be back by now.” The gray apprentice hesitated, glancing away, and finished, “Whatever else he might do, Cloudpaw always keeps his word. My brother doesn’t break his promises.”

Fireheart was amazed. It had never occurred to him that Cloudpaw could have earned the respect and loyalty of his denmates like any other warrior. But what did Ashpaw mean by “whatever else he might do”?

“Is Cloudpaw okay? ” asked Ashpaw.

Fireheart blinked while he searched for the right words to explain Cloudpaw’s disappearance. “I believe Cloudpaw has been taken from the Clan,” he murmured at last. There was no point trying to hide what had happened.

Ashpaw’ s eyes grew wide with shock and bewilderment. “T-taken?” he echoed. “But he. . .he wanted to be a warrior. I mean, I never thought they’d make him stay there!”

“Stay where?” asked Runningwind sharply, sitting up. “What’s going on?”

Ashpaw glanced guiltily at Fireheart, knowing he had betrayed his friend’s secret.

“Go back to your supper,” Fireheart meowed gently. “You can tell Darkstripe that Cloudpaw forced to his kittypet life. There’s no need for secrets anymore.”

“I just can’t believe he’s actually been taken,” mewed Ashpaw sadly. “I’ll really miss him.” He turned and plodded back to the apprentices’ den, where Darkstripe sat waiting like a hungry owl. The news would be all through the camp by sunset.

“Where has Cloudpaw gone?” demanded Runningwind, turning to Fireheart.

“He’s been taken to live with Twolegs,” Fireheart replied, each word dropping like a stone into the sultry forest air. His ears still rang with Cloudpaw’s heartbreaking cries for help, but Fireheart couldn’t see that it would do any good to start making excuses for his errant apprentice. How could he convince the Clan that Cloudpaw had been taken against his will, when they would all remember that the apprentice had been growing fat from Twoleg offerings?

Runningwind frowned. “Darkstripe is going to enjoy hearing that.”

The tabby warrior was already staring triumphantly across the clearing as he leaned down to listen to Ashpaw’s news. With a sinking feeling Fireheart watched as he trotted over to Longtail and Smallear, and the news of Cloudpaw’s disappearance began to spread through the Clan like tendrils of dark, clinging ivy. Smallear squeezed between the branches of the oak to share the news with the other elders, while Longtail nodded at his fonner mentor and headed toward the nursery. Just as Fireheart had feared, Darkstripe was making sure the whole camp knew that Fireheart’s kin had been returned to his kittypet roots.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” asked Sandstorm, her voice sharp with indignation. “Are you going to leave it to Darkstripe to tell the Clan about Cloudpaw?”

Fireheart shook his head. “How can I fight the truth?” he meowed sadly.

“You could speak to the Clan!” snapped Sandstorm. “Explain what really happened.”

“Cloudpaw rejected Clan life as soon as he started accepting kittypet food,” Fireheart pointed out.

“Well, you should at least tell Bluestar,” Sandstorm urged.

“Too late,” murmured Runningwind.

Fireheart followed the brown warrior’s gaze and saw Darkstripe padding toward Bluestar’s den. She was going to have her evening disturbed, when she needed peace more than anything else. Fireheart thrashed his tail at Darkstripe’s selfish spite, although he knew that most of his anger was directed at Cloudpaw.

“Come on; you might as well eat your supper,” meowed Sandstorm, more gently now. But Fireheart had no appetite left. He could only stare around the clearing, returning the glances of the other Clan cats — some anxious, some just greedily curious — as they learned of Cloudpaw’s disappearance.

Runningwind’s tail flicked one of Fireheart’s hind legs. “Look out.”

Darkstripe was heading toward them with a smug expression he didn’t even try to hide. “Bluestar wants to see you,” he meowed loudly to Fireheart. With a resigned sigh Fireheart stood up and made his way to the ThunderClan leader’s den.

He hesitated at the entrance, feeling a flicker of anxiety. It seemed inevitable that Bluestar would see Cloudpaw’s disappearance as yet another betrayal by a ThunderClan cat. Did this mean she would start to doubt Fireheart as well, because of his kittypet origins?

“Come in, Fireheart,” Bluestar called. “I can smell you lurking out there!”

He pushed through the lichen. Bluestar was curled in her nest with Whitestorm beside her, his eyes wide with curiosity. Fireheart pricked his ears, trying to stop them from twitching and betraying his nerves.

“So that’s why you came to see me earlier,” meowed Bluestar. ‘“Wondering if I was hungry, indeed!” Fireheart was caught off guard by the amused purr in her voice. “You only usually offer to bring food to my den if you think I’m dying. You had me thinking there was a rumor going around the camp that I was on my last legs!”

Fireheart couldn’t believe that she was taking the news about Cloudpaw so calmly. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I was going to tell you about Cloudpaw, but you seemed so. . .so peaceful. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I may not have been enjoying the peace lately,” Bluestar acknowledged with a dip of her head, “but I’m not made of cobwebs.” Her blue eyes grew serious as she went on. “I am still your leader, and I need to know everything that’s going on in my Clan.”

“Yes, Bluestar,” answered Fireheart.

“Now, Darkstripe tells me that Cloudpaw has gone to live with Twolegs. Did you know this might happen?”

Fireheart nodded. “But not until recently,” he added. “I only found out yesterday he was visiting a Twoleg nest for food.”

“And you thought you could sort him out by yourself,” murmured Bluestar.

“Yes.” Fireheart glanced at Whitestorm, who watched in silence, his old eyes missing nothing.

“You can’t tell a cat what his heart should feel,” Bluestar warned. “If Cloudpaw’s heart longed for a kittypet life, then not even StarClan could change him.”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed. “But it’s not as simple as that.” He didn’t want to excuse Cloudpaw’s behavior to the rest of the Clan, but he wanted Bluestar to know the whole story. Although whether that was for Cloudpaw’s sake or his, he wasn’t quite sure. “He was taken away by the Twolegs against his will.”

“Taken away?” echoed Whitestorm. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw him being carried off inside a monster,” Fireheart explained. “He was crying out for help. I chased after him, but there was nothing I could do.”

“But he’d been accepting food from these Twolegs for some time,” Bluestar reminded him, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes,” Fireheart admitted. “I spoke to him about that yesterday, and I’m not sure he really wanted to live a kittypet life. He seemed to still think of himself as a Clan cat.” Fireheart swallowed uncomfortably. “I don’t think Cloudpaw understood how far he was breaking the warrior code.”

“Are you sure he is the sort of warrior that ThunderClan needs?” asked Bluestar.

Fireheart lowered his eyes, ashamed of his apprentice and recognizing the truth in Bluestar’s words. “He’s still young,” he meowed quietly. “I think he has the heart of a Clan cat, even if he doesn’t realize it himself yet.”

“Fireheart.” Bluestar’s mew was gentle. “ThunderClan needs loyal, brave cats, like you. If Cloudpaw was taken, then perhaps it was what StarClan intended. He may not be forest-born, but he has been part of our Clan long enough for our warrior ancestors to take an interest in him. Don’t be too sad. Wherever he has gone, StarClan will make sure he finds happiness there.”

Fireheart raised his eyes slowly to his old mentor. “Thanks, Bluestar,” he meowed. He wanted to believe that StarClan had Cloudpaw’s best interests at heart, that they weren’t punishing the Clan or signaling their disapproval of kittypets by sending the apprentice away. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was grateful to the Clan leader for her sympathy, and heartily relieved that she hadn’t read any darker message into Cloudpaw’s disappearance.

*  *  *  *  *

That night Fireheart dreamed again. The clear night sky stretched overhead as his dream swept him high above the forest to Fourtrees, holding him in its starry talons before dropping him down onto the Great Rock. Fireheart felt the ageless strength of the boulder beneath his paws and relished the coolness of the smooth stone on his pads, which still stung from chasing after Cloudpaw. He felt Spottedleaf coming, and with the feeling came a surge of relief that she had not abandoned him, like in his last dream.

“Fireheart.” The familiar voice whispered in his ears, and Fireheart spun around, expecting to see the medicine cat’s tortoiseshell coat glowing in the moonlight. But she was not there.

“Spottedleaf, where are you?” he called out, wondering if he’d be able to see her.

“Fireheart,” the voice murmured again. “Beware an enemy who seems to sleep.”

“What do you mean?” asked Fireheart, his chest tightening. “What enemy?”

“Beware!”

“That’s enough of that.” A new voice spoke and with it appeared two cats. One was a light brown she-cat and the other was a black-and-gray tom.

The tom snorted. “Don’t you just hate those ridiculously vague and unclear messages. It would be so much easier to listen to their advice if they told you ‘Don’t go through RiverClan territory or a cat will fall into the gorge’; or better yet, ‘Tigerclaw is running around helping ShadowClan recover from their sickness, and that’s why it’s been he hasn’t gone after ThunderClan.’ How’s that?”

The she-cat smirked. “Those are great, Molepaw. Let me try: next time you send Runningwind, Mousefur, and Thornpaw on a patrol by the Thunderpath, make sure Lionblaze is with them.”

“Honeyfern, that’s perfect!” Molepaw exclaimed. “Now he knows exactly what he should do.”

Fireheart stared at them in surprise. “Who are you?” he asked.

Honeyfern shrugged. “Can’t really explain it to you, since you’re about to wake up. Tell Cinderheart her brother and sister say hello. I know Jayfeather helped us see each other, but the more communication we can get in the better. We had to sneak away just to talk to you.”

Fireheart opened his eyes and jerked up his head. It was still dark inside the den and he could hear the steady breathing of the other ThunderClan warriors. Still reeling with confusion, he pushed himself up and weaved his way toward the entrance. As he slipped past Darkstripe, he noticed that the warrior’s ears were pricked and alert, although his eyes were closed.

Beware an enemy who seems to sleep. The warning sounded again in Fireheart’s head, but he shook the thought away. Spottedleaf didn’t need to remind him to be wary of Darkstripe. Fireheart knew very well that Darkstripe’s loyalty to ThunderClan did not necessarily mean loyalty to him. Spottedleaf’s warning had been about something else, something she feared Fireheart could not see for himself.

The clearing brought pale, silvery moonlight and a cool breeze. Fireheart sat at the edge and stared up at the stars. What could it be that Spottedleaf feared on Fireheart’s behalf? He searched his mind, going over everything that had happened to him recently — Bluestar’s recovery, Cloudpaw’s disappearance, his discovery of the sick ShadowClan cats. The ShadowClan cats! Cinderpelt said she had cured their sickness, but perhaps she hadn’t. Perhaps they only seemed better. Fireheart felt alarm pricking like fleabites at the base of his tail. Spottedleaf had been a medicine cat. She might know that the sickness was not really cured. Perhaps she was warning him that it had already spread into the ThunderClan camp. The more Fireheart thought about it, the more certain he felt that this was what his dream had meant.

The other two cats’ words were so clear, they didn’t make sense on their own. Was Tigerclaw really helping ShadowClan?

Sandstorm was standing guard over the camp. Bats flitted between the trees overhead and their soundless wings seemed to fan the flames of Fireheart’s alarm. How could he have let the ShadowClan cats stay in ThunderClan territory? He had to ask Cinderpelt if she was sure she had cured their sickness. He leaped to his paws and raced silently across the clearing, through the tunnel of ferns, and into Yellowfang’s den.

He skidded to a halt, panting. Yellowfang’s rasping snores echoed from the dark crack in the rock ahead. Fireheart could hear Cinderpelt’s gentler breathing from a nest among the ferns that walled the clearing. He thrust his head into the small hollow. “Cinderpelt!” he hissed urgently.

“Is that you, Fireheart?” she mewed sleepily.

“Cinderpelt,” Fireheart hissed again, loud enough to make the gray cat open her eyes.

She squinted at him, then slowly rolled onto her belly and lifted her head. “What is it?” she asked, frowning.

“Are you certain that the ShadowClan cats are really cured?” Fireheart demanded. He kept his voice low, even though he knew Yellowfang would not be able to hear him from inside her den.

Cinderpelt blinked in confusion. “You woke me up to ask me that? I told you yesterday, they’re getting better.”

“But they’re still sick?”

“Well, yes,” Cinderpelt admitted. “But not nearly as sick as they were.”

“And what about you? Do you have any signs of the sickness? Have any of our cats come to you with fever or pain?”

Cinderpelt yawned and stretched. “I’m fine,” she mewed. “The ShadowClan cats are fine. ThunderClan is fine.” She shook her head wearily. “Everybody’s fine! What in StarClan is worrying you?”

“I had a dream,” Fireheart explained uncomfortably. “Spottedleaf came and told me to beware an enemy who seems to sleep. I think she means the sickness.”

Cinderpelt snorted. “The dream was probably warning you not to go waking poor old Cinderpelt, who’s had a really long day, or you might get your whiskers pulled!”

Fireheart realized she looked exhausted. She must have been even busier than usual lately, carrying out her duties in the camp as well as caring for Littlecloud and Whitethroat. “I’m sorry,” he meowed. “But I think the ShadowClan cats have to leave.”

Cinderpelt opened her eyes fully for the first time. “You said they could stay till they were completely better,” she reminded him. “Have you changed your mind because of this dream?”

“Spottedleaf has been right before,” Fireheart answered. “I can’t take the risk of letting them stay. So have Mistflow and Softpaw.”

Cinderpelt stared at him wordlessly for a moment, then mewed, “Let me speak to them.”

Fireheart nodded. “But you must do it tomorrow,” he insisted.

Cinderpelt rested her chin on her front paws. “I’ll tell them,” she promised. “But what if your dream was wrong? If ShadowClan is as riddled with the sickness as they say it is, you could be sending these cats to their deaths.”

Fireheart felt his breath catch in his chest, but he knew he had to protect his own Clan. “You can show them how to make the healing mixture, can’t you?” he suggested.

Cinderpelt nodded.

“Okay,” Fireheart went on. “If you do that, they’ll be able to take care of themselves, maybe even help their Clanmates.” The thought that he was not totally abandoning the desperate ShadowClan cats came as a relief, but he still felt the need to explain why he was turning them away. “Cinderpelt, I have to listen to our Clanmates. ...” A hard lump of sadness choked him into silence. The scent of ferns around him made the memory of the medicine cat even sharper, for this was where she had lived and worked.

“You talk about her as if them is still alive,” murmured Cinderpelt, closing her eyes. “Why can’t you let her rest with StarClan? I know you feel guilty, but remember what Yellowfang said to me when I couldn’t stop thinking about Silverstream: Put your energy into today. They chose to sacrifice themselves for the Clan. Stop worrying about the past.”

“What’s wrong with remembering?” Fireheart protested.

“Because while you’re dreaming about them blaming yourself for their deaths, there’s another cat — a living one — right under your nose whom you should be thinking about instead.”

Fireheart stared at Cinderpelt, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

Cinderpelt opened her eyes and lifted her head. “Fireheart, every cat in the Clan can see that Sandstorm is very, very fond of you!”

Fireheart felt a hot flush spread through his fur. “Are you sure?” he started to protest, but Cinderpelt ignored him.

“Now go away and let me rest,” she muttered, resting her chin on her paws once more. “I’ll tell Littlecloud and Whitethroat to leave tomorrow, I promise.”

By the time Fireheart reached the fern tunnel he could hear Cinderpelt’s gentle snoring mingling with the steady rasps of Yellowfang. His mind was still reeling as he padded into the clearing. He knew Sandstorm liked and respected him, far more than he would ever have expected when he first joined the Clan, but it had never occurred to him that she felt anything stronger than friendship for him. Suddenly he pictured the soft sparkle in her pale green eyes when she had licked his stinging paws, and his fur began to prickle with a sensation he had felt since she had fought beside him in WindClan.

Did she really share his feelings? There was only one way to find out.

He made his way to where Sandstorm was sitting, her gaze fixed on the quiet forest. Blood roared in his ears and his heart pounded. Why was he so nervous? The worst she could was not share his feelings, right?

“Fireheart, what are you doing awake?” Sandstorm’s concerned voice startled him out of his thoughts and he stared at her for a moment.

Even now, standing guard over the whole Clan, she still chooses to check if I’m okay.

The thought bolstering his confidence, he decided to just say everything that he was thinking, that he felt. What followed was a confused, jumbled mess, but for some reason he felt better for it. He meant every word.

“Sandstorm, I-I…I’ve had feelings for you for a while. They started after you saved me in the WindClan camp and made me tell you the truth about Tigerclaw And then when you tried to comfort me after Graystripe left and promised you wouldn’t leave me, and I realized I always want to be by your side. You make me so happy when we go hunting together and I feel safe sharing my secrets with, and I love you so much. It’s okay if you just want to be friends, I’ll be fine with that. I don’t mind; it’s up to you.”

He stopped, panting for breath. For a moment, she silently stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise. Maybe Cinderpelt was wrong.

“It’s okay if you just want to be friends,” he meowed. He didn’t want to force her or pressure her into anything. That would be wrong. When she still didn’t say anything, he turned to leave. “Nevermind, this was stupid. I shouldn’t have assumed–”

She cut him off by thrusting her muzzle against his. “Stupid furball,” she purred. “I have feelings for you, I love you too.” Really? So…what happens next? He hadn’t entirely believed she loved him, so he hadn’t planned farther than this. Luckily, Sandstorm asked the next question for him. “Fireheart…will you be mates with me?”

Joy exploded in his heart and a massive purr rumbled in his throat. “Yes, oh yes, Sandstorm. I would love to be mates with you!”

He sat down beside her, pressing against her side and twining his tail with hers. She licked his cheek, love in her eyes.

It had been easier than he had expected. He settled down beside her, and the two cats guarded the camp together.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, the streams in ThunderClan territory dwindled until the only freshwater to be found was near the RiverClan border, on the far side of Sunningrocks.

“There’s never been a summer like it,” grumbled One -Eye. “The forest is as dry as a kit’s bedding.”

Fireheart was searching the sky for clouds, sending a silent prayer to StarClan that rain would come soon. The drought was forcing the ThunderClan cats to fetch water nearer and nearer to the place where Cinderpelt had sheltered the sick ShadowClan cats, and he didn’t want to risk any of the patrols coming into contact with lingering traces of disease. At the same time, he was almost grateful for the distraction of worrying about water, which left him less time to dwell on what had happened to Cloudpaw, and where his apprentice might be now or if Healer had rescued him yet.

The sunhigh patrol had just returned, and Frostfur was organizing a party of elders and queens to go to the river to drink. They gathered in the narrow shadows at the edge of the clearing.

“Why would StarClan send such a drought now?” Smallear complained. Out of the corner of his eye Fireheart saw the old gray tom glance in his direction.

“It’s not the dryness that bothers me,” rasped One-Eye. “It’s all the Twolegs out in the forest. I’ve never heard so many crashing around, scaring off the prey and ruining our scent markers with their stench. A bit of rain might drive them away.”

“Well, I’m worried about Willowpelt,” meowed Speckletail. “It’s quite a journey to the stream and back, and she doesn’t like to leave her kits for so long. But if she doesn’t drink, her milk’ll dry up and her kits will starve.”

“Goldenflower too,” Patchpelt put in. “Perhaps if we each carried back moss soaked in water, they could lick the moisture from that?” he suggested.

“That’s a great idea,” Fireheart meowed. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of that himself. Perhaps he had been trying to put the nursery — and one kit in particular — out of his mind. “Can you bring some back today?”

The old black-and-white tom nodded.

“We’ll all bring some,” offered Speckletail.

Goldenflower ducked out of the nursery, with Cinderheart just behind her. “Actually, I’d like to go with you.”

“You would?” Patchpelt asked in surprise.

She nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve left camp. Besides, Cinderheart is so restless she’s started running in her sleep.”

“I’m not that bad,” Cinderheart protested.

Goldenflower snorted. “Last night, your kits ended up in my nest because you kept kicking them out of yours.”

The gray tabby queen winced, embarrassed. “Okay, maybe I am a little restless.”

Goldenflower nodded agreement. “We’ll go for a nice walk and collect some water for Willowpelt and the kits.

“Thank you.” Fireheart blinked gratefully at her. He couldn’t help thinking with a pang of regret how eagerly Cloudpaw would have volunteered to help the elders. He’d always been particularly close to them, listening to their stories at night and sometimes even sharing their meals. It stung Fireheart, if he let himself think about it for too long, that the elders hardly seemed to notice Cloudpaw’s absence. Was Fireheart the only cat in ThunderClan who thought Cloudpaw could have adjusted to life in the forest? He shook his ears irritably. Perhaps Bluestar was right, and the young cat had made the right decision to leave. But it didn’t stop Fireheart from missing him with an unexpected intensity.

“Who’s going to watch the kits?” Speckletail asked. “Snowkit’s with Dovewing and Ivypool, but I don’t think Willowkit would appreciate trying to manage the other four on her own, especially if her kits are sleeping.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Goldenflower said mischievously. “I know the perfect cat to keep them occupied.” She swung her head to let her gaze focus on Fireheart.

He froze. “Me?”

Cinderheart smirked. “That’s perfect! He already gets along well with my kits, and Dovewing said he was talking to Bramblekit a few nights ago.”

“Then it’s settled,” Goldenflower decided. “Fireheart will watch the kits for us.”

It had happened so quickly, he didn’t have a chance to argue. “Let me just call some other cats to join you first,” he mumbled.

He called to Owltuft, Sandstorm, and Brackenfur, who were resting in the shade of the nettle patch after the sunhigh patrol. They leaped up at once and trotted over to him.

“Would you escort Smallear and the others?” Fireheart meowed. “I don’t know how close to the river they’ll have to go, and they’ll need some backup if they bump into a RiverClan patrol.” He paused. “I know you’re tired, but the other cats are out training, and I need to stay with Whitestorm to guard the camp.”

“No problem,” meowed Brackenfur easily.

“I’m not tired, Fireheart,” insisted Sandstorm, fixing him with her leaf-green gaze.

Fireheart’s paws tingled as he remembered the walk they’d gone on last night. Apparently, it had given her more energy than a night’s rest would have. “Er, great,” he meowed, a little too loudly. He began washing his chest self-consciously, his licks becoming brisker as he noticed that Brackenfur’s whiskers were twitching with amusement.

He was relieved when the group padded out of the gorse tunnel leaving him in the deserted clearing. Whitestorm was with Bluestar, in her den. Willowpelt was in the nursery with the kits. Fireheart had noticed Tigerclaw’s kit padding around the camp on unsteady legs more often these past few days, encouraged by Goldenflower. He’d found himself playing with Bramblekit several times, especially whenever Tawnykit decided to hang out with Snowkit instead. All the kits were becoming more and more a part of the Clan.

With a jolt, he remembered the sick ShadowClan cats. What if Cinderpelt hadn’t really sent them away and they were still hiding there? He might as well talk to her now before he went to entertain the kits.

Fireheart shuddered. He hurried toward Yellowfang’s clearing and nearly bumped into Cinderpelt limping out of the tunnel entrance.

“What’s the matter with you?” she mewed cheerily, and then she looked at the frown on Fireheart’s face and her expression changed.

“Did you tell Littlecloud and Whitethroat they must leave?” Fireheart whispered urgently.

“We’ve been through all this already.” Cinderpelt sighed impatiently.

“Are you sure they’ve gone?”

“They promised to leave that night.” Her blue eyes challenged Fireheart to argue with her.

“And there’s no stench of sickness left?” he persisted, his fur pricking with worry.

“Look!” she snapped. “I told them to leave and they said they would. I don’t have time for this. There are berries to be collected, and the birds will get them if I don’t. If you don’t believe me about the ShadowClan cats, why don’t you check for yourself?”

A low yowl came from the medicine cat’s den. “I don’t know who you’re mewing at out there, but stop it now and go and fetch those berries!”

“Sorry, Yellowfang,” Cinderpelt called over her shoulder. “I’m just talking to Fireheart.” Her eyes flashed accusingly at him as Yellowfang’s voice sounded again.

“Well, tell him to stop wasting your time, or he’ll have me to answer to!”

Cinderpelt’s shoulders relaxed and her whiskers twitched with amusement. Fireheart felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry to keep going on about it, Cinderpelt. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I — ”

“You’re just a fretful old badger,” she told him, nudging him affectionately on his shoulder. “Go and check out the root cave for yourself, if you want to put your mind at rest.” She brushed past him and limped toward the camp entrance.

Cinderpelt was right. Fireheart knew he would be satisfied only once he’d seen the ancient oak himself to make sure it was free of both ShadowClan cats and sickness. But he couldn’t leave now. He and Whitestorm were the only warriors in the camp. His fur itching with frustration and worry, Fireheart began to pace the clearing. As he turned below the Highrock to go to the nursery, he spotted Whitestorm padding toward him.

“Have you decided on the evening patrol yet?” called the white warrior.

“I thought Runningwind could take Thompaw and Mousefur.” Suddenly remembering Honeyfern and Molepaw’s words, he added, “And Lionblaze.”

“Good idea,” answered Whitestorm distractedly. He clearly had something on his mind. “Could Brightpaw go with the dawn patrol tomorrow?” he asked. “The experience will do her good. I. . .I haven’t been keeping up with her training lately.” Whitestorm’s ear twitched and, with a twinge of unease, Fireheart realized that the white warrior had been spending more and more of his time with Whitestorm. He understood why the senior warrior would want to be with his mate and kits.

“Of course,” he agreed.

Whitestorm sat down beside Fireheart and looked around the clearing. “It’s quiet this afternoon.”

“Owltuft, Sandstorm, and Brackenfur have taken the elders and queens to drink by the river. Patchpelt suggested bringing back moss soaked with water for Willowpelt and the kits.”

Whitestorm nodded. “Perhaps they could share some with Bluestar. She seems reluctant to leave the camp.” The old warrior lowered his voice. “She’s been licking the dew from the leaves each morning, but she needs more than that in this heat.”

Fireheart felt a wave of anxiety swell in his chest. “Why doesn’t she want to leave?”

“She wants to stay in camp to be able to guard it,” the white warrior assured him. “But still, she. . .” His deep mew trailed away and, although Fireheart felt shaken by the dark frown on the old warrior’s face, there was no need to say any more.

“I understand,” he murmured. “I’ll ask Patchpelt to take her some when they return.”

“Thank you.” Whitestorm narrowed his eyes at Fireheart. “You’re doing very well, you know,” he remarked calmly.

Fireheart sat up. “What do you mean?”

“Being deputy. I know it hasn’t been easy, with Tigerclaw, and the drought. But I doubt there’s a cat in the Clan who would deny that Bluestar made the right choice when she appointed you.”

Apart from Darkstripe, Dustpelt, and half the elders, Fireheart responded silently. Then he realized he was being churlish, and he blinked gratefully at the white warrior. “Thank you, Whitestorm,” he purred. He couldn’t help feeling encouraged by such high praise from this wise cat, whose opinion he valued as much as Bluestar’s.

“And I’m sorry about Cloudpaw,” Whitestorm went on gently. “It must be very hard for you. After all, he was your kin, and I think it is too easy for Clanbom cats to take that bond for granted."

Fireheart was taken aback by the warrior’s shrewdness. “Well, yes,” he began hesitantly. “I do miss him. Not just because he was my kin. I truly believe he could have made a good warrior in the end.” He glanced sideways at Whitestorm, half expecting the old cat to contradict him, but to his surprise the warrior was nodding.

“He was a good hunter, and a good friend to the other apprentices,” Whitestorm agreed. “But perhaps StarClan has a different destiny for him. I am no medicine cat; I cannot read the stars like Yellowfang or Cinderpelt or Jayfeather, but I have always been willing to trust our warrior ancestors, wherever they might lead our Clan.”

And that is what makes you such a noble warrior, Fireheart thought, filled with admiration for Whitestorm’s loyalty to the warrior code. If Cloudpaw had had one whisker’s worth of such understanding, perhaps things would have been very different. ...

“I’d better go see the kits,” he meowed. “Willowpelt will have her paws full.”

Whitestorm nodded in amusement, and Fireheart quickly made his way to the nursery, ducking inside.

He didn’t have a chance to let his eyes adjust. The moment he got inside, he heard Honeykit yowl, “Warriors, attack!” A heartbeat later, all four kits leaped on top of him, knocking him off his paws and carrying him to the nursery floor.

“Do you surrender?” Hollykit challenged. She bounced up and down on his chest, then suddenly moved moved her face very close to his.

“Um…yes?”

His “surrender” caused all the kits to cheer. “Hooray! We defeated the invader!” Bramblekit squealed. “ThunderClan is safe again!”

Willowpelt purred. “I suppose that means you’ll let him stand up now?”

Fireheart craned his head to see her watching them, her whiskers twitching. Clearly she found this entertaining.

Honeykit, who he could barely see with Hollykit’s muzzle still practically squished against his, had a concerningly thoughtful look. “Oh, I know! We will let you up, if you promise to tell us a story.”

“A story?” Fireheart repeated.

“Yeah!” Hollykit agreed. “I’m not allowed to tell stories of my own because Lionblaze and Cinderheart I’ll say something stupid, like how the sun will be eaten by an evil eclipse.”

“An eclipse?” Willowpelt meowed curiously.

Hollykit nodded enthusiastically, bumping her muzzle against Fireheart’s face in the process. Startled, she lost her balance and fell off, allowing Fireheart to gently shake the rest of the kits off him.

“I have thought of a story,” he announced to the kits. They perked up immediately, scrambling into a messy pile in front of him.

“Bramblekit, get off!” Tawnykit grumbled, batting his ears with her forepaw.

He looked down at her in surprise, blinked, then jumped backwards. “Sorry!” he meowed, nearly colliding with Honeykit in his haste to free his sister.

After a few moments the kits managing to get more organized, Fireheart began his story. “It was a warm day in greenleaf and I was still an apprentice. Yellowfang hadn’t yet joined ThunderClan, and Whitestorm had decided to bring Dustpelt, Sandstorm, Graystripe, Ravenpaw, and myself on a border patrol practice session.

“Is every cat here? Firepaw, Graypaw, Ravenpaw, Sandpaw, and Dustpaw?”

Firepaw opened his mouth to reply, but Dustpaw gave him a hard shove. “Hey!” he protested, bracing himself to shove back.

Whitestorm saw what was going on and frowned. “Dustpaw, stop trying to push Firepaw into the brambles.”

“I’m not trying to push him into the brambles.”

“I’m not blind; I can see what you’re doing. Firepaw, go to the other end of the line.”

Sandpaw was at this side of the line, Graypaw and Ravenpaw having ended up between her and Dustpaw. Trying to be friendly, Firepaw meowed, “Hi, Sandpaw.”

She rolled her eyes. “Does he have to stand here? I bet he’s got a bunch of fleas, and then I’ll get them too.”

Whitestorm sighed. “Sandpaw, he does not have fleas! Stand still, all of you.”

Firepaw stilled, his fur bristling with excitement. He’d never had a proper training session with Whitestorm, nor with Dustpaw and Sandpaw. He didn’t care about their hostility; they were more experienced than he was and he might learn something from them. The other apprentices fell quiet as well.

“As Lionheart told you, we’re going to practice border defense today. You can be the patrol, and I’ll be a deputy from another Clan who’s crossed the boundary,” Whitestorm suggested. “Who’d like to lead the patrol?”

“What about Ravenpaw?” Dustpaw suggested. Firepaw wondered if he were trying to form a truce by allowing the black cat to be leader, but by the look on Ravenpaw’s face, clearly he wasn’t enthused by the idea.

“Don’t look so terrified, Ravenpaw. I won’t make you be the leader if you don’t want to be,” Whitestorm promised. He looked towards the other end of the line. “Graypaw, why don’t you have first turn? If you could just pick up that stick in your mouth and use it to draw a line across the sand, we’ll call that the border.”

Graypaw grabbed the stick and began to drag it through the sand, creating a somewhat wobbly line.

“That’s not straight,” Sandpaw muttered.

Whitestorm heard her. “Sandpaw, it doesn’t matter that the line is wobbly. Boundaries aren’t whisker-straight, are they?” He motioned with one paw for the apprentices to start walking. “So, you’re on that side, walking along on a dawn patrol. Off you go, patrol!”

Graypaw’s jaws split in a massive yawm”

“Did you really need to yawn like that, Graypaw?” Whitestorm asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Graypaw yawned again. “It’s the dawn patrol, Whitestorm. Lionheart had me out till nearly moonhigh hunting.”

“Oh, I see, it’s because it’s the dawn patrol, and you’re tired. Well, let’s pretend you all had a really good night’s sleep and are full of energy.”

“I don’t think I can pretend that,” Graypaw muttered.

Ignoring him, Whitestorm asked, “Now, what should you be doing?”

“Sniffing?” Dustpaw guessed.

“Yes, sniffing, tasting the air—what for?”

Sandpaw lifted her tail in the air. “Our scent markers?”

Whitestorm nodded approvingly. “That’s right, Sandpaw. ThunderClan border marks. And what else?”

“The other Clans’ scent markers,” Firepaw suggested.

“Yes, Firepaw. The border marks of the other Clan. But only where the two borders meet. Beside the river and the Thunderpath, it would be bad news to find any scents of RiverClan or ShadowClan, because it would mean they’d crossed over from their side. So keep sniffing.”

Firepaw sniffed very carefully and gently, not wanting to accidentally inhale the sand. Unfortunately, Sandpaw hadn’t considered this and she took a deep breath.

Immediately, her eyes widened in shock and she began spluttering and batting at her nose.

Whitestorm shook his head. “Maybe not that much, Sandpaw. Have a good sneeze and you should get the sand out of your nose.” 

Sandpaw sneezed twice, then sniffed more carefully.

“Are you all right?” Dustpaw asked worriedly.

“Fine,” she snapped.

“So, border marks, border marks,” Whitestorm continued. “Can you smell both sets?” The apprentices all nodded. “Good. But what’s this? A cat from another Clan has ignored the marks and stepped over your border?”

Ravenpaw let out a startled yowl, the fur on his shoulders bristling. “Where?” he hissed in terror.”

“No, Ravenpaw, I didn’t mean we were actually being invaded. The cat from the other Clan is me.” He pointed with his tail, at where his paw had scuffed the line Graypaw had made. “See how I just stepped over the line in the sand? What are you going to do about it?” 

“Grr-argh!” Dustpaw leaped forward, splashing sand in the air and tackled Whitestorm. Graypaw and Sandpaw were a heartbeat behind him, knocking the warrior off his paws.

“Wha . . . whoa! Stop treading on my ears!” Whitestorm protested.

The apprentices complied, giving him a chance to scramble to his paws. “I think that worked,” Dustpaw said in satisfaction.

“Well, yes, Dustpaw, launching an attack and knocking me back across the border is one option. But is it wise to take on a cat twice your size? Or a trained warrior with more experience than you?” Whitestorm pointed out. “The purpose of a patrol is to assess the situation and report back to your Clan leader. You won’t be able to do that if your pelt is clawed to shreds at the farthest part of the territory from the camp. Any other ideas?

How about asking what I’m doing? I might have a valid reason for crossing the border, especially if I’m alone.”

Graypaw stepped forward. “What do you want?” he growled in a firm voice.

“That’s right, Graypaw: What do you want? is a good way to start,” Whitestorm sounded approving once again. “Don’t be too hostile: Remember, you are in the stronger position, because this is your territory and you have the right to defend it. Unless I have a very good explanation for crossing your border, I don’t have any rights at all. What do you think my reply might be?”

“Do you need help?” Ravenpaw asked timidly.

“Yes, Ravenpaw, I might need your help. My Clan might have been invaded, we might have serious trouble with prey, or we might have sickness that needs your herbs. All these reasons would mean that I am weak, so you can allow me into your territory but never out of sight.”

Dustpaw stepped in front of the “patrol”, his pelt bushed to twice its size. “Get out of our territory!” he ordered, his claws glinting.

Whitestorm sighed. “If I am hostile, then meet me with hostility—which isn’t the same as aggression, Dustpaw. You’ve started with a strong challenge—What do you want?—and now you need to give me some sort of warning. Ravenpaw, what would you say?”

“Get out of our territory or we’ll claw your ears?” Ravenpaw suggested. It was a decent threat, but he was trembling and his voice was so shaky that Fireheart didn’t think it would intimidate even the youngest apprentice.

“Hmmm. If you’re going to threaten to claw a cat’s ears, you should try not to look so terrified at the prospect. Firepaw, would you like to try?”

He thought quickly. “There’s five of us here. If you’re going to try anything, it won’t end well for you.”

Ah, yes, I like that you indicated the rest of your patrol. It’s always good to let the enemy know they’re outnumbered.”

“Psst, look at this!”

Firepaw looked over at Sandpaw, who was holding some sort of strange red creature on her paw. It had six legs along with two more leg-like things on its head, all of which were waving wildly. “What is that?” he asked curiously.

“You can hold it if you want,” she offered. He held out his paw, delighted at her sudden show of friendliness.

“Sandpaw, put that fire ant down!” Whitestorm ordered. 

“But he’s never seen a fire ant before?” she defended innocently.

He frowned at her. “No, I don’t care that Firepaw might not know what it is. Now is not the right time to show him—and he certainly doesn’t need to get bitten by one.”

She rolled her eyes and flicked her paw, throwing the fire ant to the sand, where it wriggled desperately before flipping over and scurrying away.

“So, you’ve challenged the trespasser, warned me that there’s a whole patrol here that can take me to your Clan leader if that’s what I wish; what next?” Whitestorm asked them. 

“We give the intruder a chance to talk, to tell us what they’re doing here,” Graypaw suggested.

“That’s right, Graypaw, let me—the intruder—speak. If I can’t give you a convincing explanation for what I’m doing on your territory, if I don’t ask to be taken to Bluestar at once, then chase me off with no more questions.”

Dustpaw flexed his shoulders, pleased. “I’m happy to chase off an intruder.”

Amused, Whitestorm flicked his shoulder with his tail. “Don’t provoke a full-scale war—chasing means chasing, not catching and clawing,” he warned.

“But aren’t we supposed to show how strong we are?” Sandpaw asked.

“Just make it clear that you will defend your boundaries from any kind of invasion, even one paw across the border. A good warrior is always ready to fight, but only if it’s absolutely necessary: A good warrior will seek a peaceful, claws-sheathed solution first,” Whitestorm explained.

“You will all make good warriors one day.”

Ravenpaw winced. “I doubt that.”

“Don’t look so doubtful, Ravenpaw. You need to find only a little more courage to be as good as your denmates,” Whitestorm assured him. “Your hunting skills are excellent— Dustpaw, you’d do well to watch him. Who knows? You might even lead this Clan one day!”

Ravenpaw shook his head. “Never. I will never be leader.”

Whitestorm ignored him, instead finding a patch of sunlit earth and sitting down. “Now, back to camp, all of you, and leave this old warrior to enjoy the sun in peace.”

*  *  *  *  *

The sound of pebbles clattering outside the camp wall made both Fireheart and the kits jump. Fireheart dashed to the camp entrance. Speckletail and the others were crashing down the rocky slope, sending grit and dirt crumbling around them. Their fur was bristling and their eyes were filled with alarm.

“Twolegs!” Speckletail panted as she reached the foot of the ravine.

Fireheart looked up to where Owltuft, Brackenfur, and Sandstorm were helping the eldest cats as they struggled down from boulder to boulder.

“It’s okay,” Sandstorm called down. “We lost them.”

When they were all safely at the bottom, Brackenfur explained, his breath coming in frightened gasps: “There was a group of young ones. They chased us!”

Fireheart’s fur bristled with alarm as a terrified mewing broke out among the other cats. “Are you all okay?” he meowed.

Sandstorm looked around the group and nodded.

“Good.” Fireheart steadied himself with a deep breath. “Where were these Twolegs? Were they by the river?”

“We hadn’t even reached Sunningrocks,” answered Sandstorm. Her voice grew calmer as she got her breath back, and her eyes began to gleam with indignation. “They were loose in the woods, not on the usual Twoleg paths.”

Fireheart tried not to betray his alarm. Twolegs rarely ventured this deep into the forest. “We shall have to wait till dark to fetch water,” he decided out loud.

“Do you think they’ll be gone by then?” asked One -Eye shakily.

“Why would they stay?” Fireheart tried to sound reassuring despite his private doubts. Who could predict what a Twoleg might do?

“But what about Willowpelt and the kits?” fretted Speckletail. “They’ll need water before then.”

“Cinderheart ran off by herself to get the water,” Goldenflower meowed. “She managed to slip away while the Twolegs were distracted by the rest of us.”

Whitestorm frowned. “She went alone? I know that she’s an impressive warrior, but that was a dangerous thing to do.”

“I’ll go and find her,” offered Sandstorm.

“No,” meowed Fireheart. “I’ll go.” Fetching water for Willowpelt would give him a perfect opportunity to take Cinderpelt’s advice and check for himself that the ShadowClan cats and their sickness had gone from the cave beneath the old oak. He nodded to Sandstorm. “I need you to stay at the top of the ravine and look out for Twolegs.” One-Eye let out an anxious mew. “I’m sure they’ll have turned back by now,” Fireheart soothed the elder. “But you’ll be safe with Sandstorm on guard.” He looked into the orange she-cat’s sparkling emerald eyes and knew he spoke the truth.

“I’ll come with you,” meowed Brackenfur.

Fireheart shook his head. He had to make this journey alone to avoid any other cats finding out about Cinderpelt’s foolish good deed. “You’ll need to guard the camp with Whitestorm,” he told the pale ginger warrior. “And I want you to report what you saw in the forest just now to Bluestar. I’ll carry back as much moss as I can. The rest of you will have to wait till sunset.”

Fireheart and Sandstorm climbed the ravine together, cautiously sniffing the air as they approached the top. There was no scent of Twolegs here.

“Be careful,” whispered Sandstorm as Fireheart prepared to head into the forest.

He licked the top of her head. “I will,” he promised softly.

Green eyes met green eyes for a long moment; then Fireheart turned and crept warily through the trees. He kept to the thickest undergrowth, his ears pricked and his mouth half-open as he strained his senses to pick up any signs of Twolegs. He smelled their unnatural stench as he approached Sunningrocks, but it was stale now.

Fireheart turned and cut through the woods to the slope above the river that marked the RiverClan border. As he checked for RiverClan patrols, he couldn’t help looking out for the familiar gray head of his friend, Graystripe. But there was no sign of any cats in the airless forest. Fireheart would be able to fetch water from the stream without being challenged, but first he had to check the cave beneath the ancient oak.

He headed along the border, stopping at every other tree to leave his scent and freshen the boundary between the two Clans. Even this close to the river, the forest had lost its newleaf lushness and the leaves looked shriveled and worn. Fireheart soon spotted the gnarled oak, and as he drew near he saw the dusty cave where the ShadowClan cats had sheltered.

He breathed in deeply. The stench of sickness had gone. With a sigh of relief he decided to take a quick look inside and then fetch the water. He padded forward, his eyes fixed on the hole. He crouched low, then cautiously stretched his neck and peered into the makeshift den.

He let out a startled gasp as a weight dropped onto his back and claws grasped his sides. Fear and rage pulsed through him and he yowled, twisting violently in an attempt to throw off his attacker. But the cat who had ambushed him kept a firm hold. Fireheart braced himself for the pain of thorn-sharp claws in his flanks, but the paws that clutched him were wide and soft, their claws unsheathed. Then a familiar scent filled his nostrils — a scent overlaid now with the odors of RiverClan, but recognizable all the same.

“Graystripe!” he meowed joyfully.

“I thought you would never come to see me,” purred Graystripe.

Fireheart felt his old friend slip from his back and realized that Graystripe was dripping wet with river water. His own orange pelt was soaked from their tussle. He shook himself and stared in amazement at the gray warrior. “You swam across the river?” he meowed in disbelief. Every cat in ThunderClan knew how much Graystripe hated getting his thick fur wet.

Graystripe gave himself a quick shake, and the water spattered easily from his pelt. His long fur, which used to soak up water like moss, looked sleek and glossy. “It’s quicker than going down to the stepping-stones,” he pointed out. “Besides, my fur doesn’t seem to hold the water as much anymore. One of the advantages of eating fish, I suppose.”

“About the only one, I should think,” answered Fireheart, screwing up his face. He couldn’t imagine how the strong flavor of fish could compare to the subtle, musky flavors of ThunderClan’s forest prey.

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” meowed Graystripe. He blinked warmly at Fireheart. “You look well.”

“You too,” Fireheart purred back.

“How is everyone? Is Dustpelt still being a pain? How’s Bluestar?”

“Dustpelt’s fine,” Fireheart began, and then hesitated. “Bluestar is teaching me so much about leading the Clan. And Sandstorm…” He searched for words, unsure how much to tell his old friend about his new mate.

“What’s up?” asked Graystripe, his eyes narrowing.

Fireheart realized that the gray warrior knew him too well to miss his reaction. His ears flicked self-consciously.

“Sandstorm’s all right, isn’t she?” Graystripe’s voice was thick with concern.

“She’s fine,” Fireheart assured him quickly.

“Then what is it?” Graystripe meowed. “Wait did you–Are you two mates now?”

His best friend definitely knew him too well. He purred. “Yeah, we are.”

“Well, it’s about time!” Graystripe exclaimed. “That poor she-cat was trying to get your attention for moons.”

“Seriously?” Fireheart grumbled. “Did every cat in the Clan know that we shared feelings for each other?”

The gray warrior rolled his eyes. “Of course we did. It was obvious to everyone but you.”

Defensively, Fireheart meowed, “In my defense, I was a bit distracted trying to investigate Tigerclaw and figure out what happened to Oakheart and Redtail.”

Graystripe frowned. “Have you seen that old poisonpaws since he left?”

Fireheart shook his head. “Not a sign of him. I don’t know how the Clan would react if they saw him again.”

“They’d scratch his eyes out, if I know them,” purred Graystripe. “Nothing keeps ThunderClan down for long.”

I hope that’s true, Fireheart thought sadly. He looked into Graystripe’s curious eyes, knowing with a pang of sadness that his desire to confide in his old friend had been an impossible dream. Graystripe was a member of RiverClan now, and Fireheart had to accept with a heavy heart that he couldn’t share the details of his leader’s weakness with a cat from another Clan. And he also realized that he wasn’t prepared to tell Graystripe about Cloudpaw’s disappearance — at least, not yet. Fireheart tried to tell himself this was because he didn’t want to worry Graystripe when his friend was unable to help, anyway. But he suspected his silence might have more to do with pride. He didn’t want Graystripe to know that he had failed as a mentor for a second time, so soon after Cinderpelt’s accident.

“What’s it like in RiverClan?” he meowed, deliberately changing the subject.

Graystripe shrugged. “Not much different from ThunderClan. Some of them are friendly, some of them are grumpy, some of them are funny, some of them are. . .Well, they’re just like normal Clan cats, I suppose.”

Fireheart couldn’t help envying the gray warrior for sounding so relaxed. Clearly Graystripe’s new life didn’t carry the burden of responsibility that Fireheart had to deal with now that he was deputy. And part of him still felt a small thorn of resentment that had mingled with his grief since Graystripe had left ThunderClan. Fireheart knew his friend could not have abandoned his mate and kits; he just wished he’d fought harder to keep them in ThunderClan.

Fireheart pushed away these unfriendly thoughts. “How are Silverstream and your kits?” he asked.

Graystripe purred proudly. “They’re wonderful!” he declared. “The she-kit is just like her mother, every bit as beautiful, and with the same temper! She gives her mother quite a bit of trouble, but every cat loves her. Especially Crookedstar. The tom is more easygoing, happy whatever he’s doing.”

“Like his father,” remarked Fireheart.

“And almost as handsome,” boasted Graystripe, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “And Silverstream has fully recovered, which is great.”

Fireheart felt a familiar rush of joy at being with his old friend. “I miss you,” he meowed, suddenly overwhelmed with longing to have Graystripe back at the camp, to hunt and fight beside him again. “Why don’t you come home?”

Graystripe shook his wide gray head. “I can’t leave my family,” he meowed.

Fireheart couldn’t help the look of disbelief that flashed in his eyes — after all, kits were raised by queens, not their fathers — and Graystripe went on quickly: “Oh, they are very well cared for in the nursery. They would be safe and happy with RiverClan. But I don’t think I could bear to be away from them. They’re my family.”

“You love them that much?”

“Always,” Graystripe answered simply.

Fireheart felt a pang of jealousy until he remembered the sorrow he still felt whenever he awoke from a dream with StarClan. He reached forward and touched Graystripe’s cheek with his nose. Only StarClan knew if he might have done the same thing for Sandstorm.

Graystripe nudged him back, disturbing Fireheart’s wandering thoughts and almost unbalancing him. “Enough soppy stuff!” he meowed, as if he could read his friend’s mind. “You didn’t really come here to see me, did you?”

Fireheart was caught off guard. “Well, not entirely...” he confessed.

“You were looking for those ShadowClan cats, right?”

“How did you know about them?” Fireheart demanded, stunned.

“How could I not know?” exclaimed Graystripe. “The stench they were giving off. ShadowClan cats smell bad enough on their own, but sick ones. . .yuck!”

“Does the rest of RiverClan know about them?” Fireheart was alarmed to think that the other Clans could have found out ThunderClan was sheltering ShadowClan cats again — and ones tainted by sickness at that.

“Not as far as I know,” Graystripe assured him. “I offered to do all the patrolling at this end of the river. The other cats just thought I was homesick and indulged me. I think they were secretly hoping I’d go back to ThunderClan if I got enough of the forest scents!”

“But why would you protect the ShadowClan cats like that?” Fireheart asked, puzzled.

“I came over and spoke to them soon after they arrived,” Graystripe explained. “They told me that Cinderpelt had hidden them here, with Bluestar’s permission. I reckoned that if Bluestar and Cinderpelt had something to do with it, then you must know. Sheltering a couple of sickly fleabags is just the sort of softhearted thing you’d do.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I found out,” Fireheart admitted.

“But I bet you let her off.”

Fireheart shrugged. “Well, yes.”

“She always could wrap you around her paw,” meowed Graystripe affectionately. “Anyway, they’ve gone now.”

“When did they leave?” Fireheart felt a wave of relief that Cinderpelt had kept her promise.

“I saw one hunting this side of the river a couple of days ago, but not a whisker since.”

“A couple of days ago?” Fireheart was alarmed to hear that the ShadowClan cats were still there so recently. Had Cinderpelt decided to nurse them until they were well enough to travel, after all? His fur prickled with irritation at the thought, but he trusted that she had not made the decision lightly. He was just grateful to StarClan that they hadn’t bumped into a water-gathering patrol from ThunderClan. They were gone now, and with any luck so was the threat of sickness.

“Look,” meowed Graystripe, “I have to go. I’m on hunting duty, and I promised I’d watch a couple of apprentices this afternoon.”

“Have you got an apprentice of your own?” Fireheart asked.

Graystripe met his gaze steadily. “I don’t think RiverClan is willing to trust me to train their warriors yet,” he murmured. Fireheart couldn’t tell if it was amusement or regret that made his old friend’s whiskers twitch.

“Maybe they will eventually.”

“I’ll see you again sometime,” Graystripe meowed, giving Fireheart a shove with his muzzle.

“Definitely.” Fireheart felt a black hole of sadness yawn in his belly as the gray warrior turned to leave. Softpaw, Stripestalk, Graystripe, Cloudpaw...Was Fireheart destined to lose every cat he grew close to? “Take care!” he called. He watched Graystripe pad through the ferns to the edge of the river and wade in confidently. The warrior’s broad shoulders glided through the water, leaving a gentle wake as he swam with strongly churning paws. Fireheart shook his head, wishing he could scatter his troubled thoughts as easily as Graystripe’s pelt had shed water after his swim. Then he turned away and headed into the trees.

Chapter Text

Ravenpaw led Hollyleaf to the top of the rise and stopped. A Twoleg dwelling lay in the shallow valley ahead of them, just as he had promised.

“That’s where you took Cloudpaw?” Hollyleaf asked.

When the black cat nodded, Hollyleaf’s belly began to churn with nervous excitement. Even if they did find Cloudpaw, what if he didn’t want to come back with her? What if he wanted Fireheart to rescue him instead?

“I can barely smell him,” she said quietly.

“His scent was already stale when I came to see him last time,” Ravenpaw explained patiently. “I think the Twolegs are keeping him locked in.”

“Then how exactly are we supposed to rescue him?” No one in her time had told her much about this. She guessed they didn’t want to give her and littermates ideas–they’d already gotten into plenty of trouble without any help.

“Come on,” Ravenpaw meowed. He began to head down the slope toward the dwelling. “Let’s take a closer look.”

The Twoleg dwelling was surrounded by a neatly clipped hedge. Ravenpaw pushed his way through it and stared across the browning grass to the Twoleg nest silhouetted against the dusky sky. He flattened his body to the ground and crept toward the nearest bush, his ears pricked. His nose was no good here. The evening air was filled with cloying flower scents that drowned out more useful smells. She heard pawsteps on the grass behind him and turned to see Ravenpaw following. She nodded to him, grateful for his company, and carried on across the lawn.

It had been such a long time since she’d gone on a true warrior mission. The most recent had been when she’d saved Mistflow from Frost and Flare. At the time, it had felt like an unparalleled success. Unfortunately, her interference had led to Frost and Flare forging BloodClan instead of Tiny, and their daughter had eventually taken their place as leader, along with the title Scourge. The most disturbing part was how she was almost identical to Firestar, but Hollyleaf knew for certain that they were unrelated.

At least this time, BloodClan wasn’t filled entirely with hungry, angry, desperate rogues who followed Scourge and Bone with blind loyalty. Her act of saving Surge and Spin as young kits had shown the Twolegplace cats that there were other sources of strength. And with her adopted son, now named Scorch, leading this group of cats, she had a good feeling about how the BloodClan battle would go this time. In fact, she knew that many of her cats wanted to join the Clans once BloodClan was defeated.

She wouldn’t be able to join ThunderClan until Firestar had become leader. While it pained her to hide away in Twolegplace now that the other time travelers had been sent, at least she’d gotten a chance to meet Fireheart while he was young, along with Sandstorm and Graystripe.

A part of her would end up in ThunderClan soon anyways. Surge had suggested joining them with Robin and Red after the fire swept through their territory. Hollyleaf had agreed that it would be a good idea, since they would need strong, healthy cats to help them recover, and Surge’s kits were apprentice age now, though she had no idea how that had happened.

And Lionblaze and Cinderheart had kits now. They had named their daughter after her. She could only guess that they’d named another kit after Honeyfern, since Poppyfrost had named her son after Molepaw. She wondered if the ThunderClan time travelers knew that Honeyfern and Molepaw had gone back with them.

She missed everyone so much. Even Jayfeather’s sharp remarks were a bittersweet memory in her mind.

By the time they reached the Twoleg nest, Hollyleaf could feel the blood pulsing through her ears. Suddenly the hedge, and the safety that lay beyond it, seemed very far away.

“Here’s the window where I saw him,” whispered Ravenpaw, leading the way around the corner of the nest.

“Did the Twoleg see you?” muttered Hollyleaf. She felt sure and calm here. A single Twoleg nest was nothing compared to the Twolegplace she’d been in for so many seasons.

A light glared from the window above their heads, and she dropped into a crouch. She could hear the clatter of Twoleg feet inside and craned her neck to look up the wall of the Twoleg nest. The window was too high to reach in one leap. She crept to the patch of earth directly below it, where a gnarled and twisted tree climbed the side of the nest. Hollyleaf studied the curving branches. She considered clambering up it, but she could still hear the Twoleg crashing around inside.

“Cloudpaw must be half-deaf, living with that racket!” hissed Ravenpaw.

Curiosity gnawed at Hollyleaf like a hungry rat until she couldn’t bear it any longer. She’d seen the inside of many Twoleg dens, mainly whenever she’d gone to help queens have their kits. “I’m going to have a look,” she meowed, and began to claw his way up the winding stem, ignoring Ravenpaw’s warning to be careful.

Still calm, Hollyleaf reached the window and cautiously pulled herself up onto the ledge.

Inside, a Twoleg was standing over something that spat out clouds of steam. Hollyleaf winced at the harsh unnatural light she would never get used to and began to look for any sign of Cloudpaw.

In the corner of the Twoleg den, she spotted a dog bed of what looked like dried branches woven tightly together. Her paws began to tremble with excitement. A small white shape was curled inside. Hollyleaf held his breath as the shape stretched and leaped from its box. It ran to the Twoleg’s feet and began yapping noisily. It was a dog! Hollyleaf sighed, annoyance creeping through her, and she tightened her grip on the window ledge. Where was Cloudpaw?

The Twoleg reached down and patted the noisy creature. Hollyleaf hissed under her breath, then sat up in surprise as Cloudpaw strolled through a doorway into the room. To Hollyleaf’s alarm the dog rushed toward Cloudpaw, still yapping. He waited for Cloudpaw to arch his back and spit, but instead the white cat coolly ignored it.

So it’s one of those dogs, Hollyleaf realized. Many Twolegs had pet dogs that were pests and sought both to play with and try to intimidate the housecats. This was clearly one of them, but it was a pathetic little thing that wouldn’t even scare a kit.

Hollyleaf ducked as Cloudpaw suddenly jumped onto the ledge at the far end of the window. The dog carried on yapping from the floor, out of sight. “He’s here,” she hissed down to Ravenpaw.

“Has he seen you?” called back Ravenpaw.

Hollyleaf cautiously raised her eyes, but kept her body flattened against the hard stone. Cloudpaw was gazing blindly out over Hollyleaf’s head. His eyes were shadowed with unhappiness, and he looked thinner, though not as much as might have if she’d let Fireheart rescue him when he originally had. She nodded in satisfaction. This was proof enough for him that Cloudpaw wasn’t suited to kittypet life.

She sat up and pressed his forepaws against the window that separated them. With a quiver of frustration she scrabbled at the glass, keeping her claws sheathed so that her soft pads made no sound that might alert the Twoleg or the dog. She held his breath as Cloudpaw’s ears twitched. Then the white apprentice turned and spotted him, and his mouth opened wide in a delighted yowl in the beginnings of a delighted yowl. Before he could make any noise, however, Hollyleaf shook her head, pressing her tail to her mouth to indicate that he should stay silent. He did so, waiting.

Now that she knew Cloudpaw wasn’t going to do something stupid, Hollyleaf continued moving her paws along the inner edges of the windows, searching. A few heartbeats later, she found what she was looking for and brought her paw down hard on the metal thing that would open the window. After three tries, she succeeded, and the window cracked itself open.

The window opened towards her, and she had to climb back onto the vine so Cloudpaw could slip silently onto the ledge before following her down.

Once they both reached the ground, Ravenpaw led them through the hedge and into the field nearby, where hopefully the Twoleg wouldn’t search for them once he noticed Cloudpaw was gone.

“Thank you for saving me,” Cloudpaw mewed. His eyes were glowing with gratitude and relief.

“I told you it was stupid to keep accepting food from the Twolegs,” Hollyleaf reprimanded him.

His shoulders drooped. “I know, it’s just, I thought it wouldn’t hurt any cat.”

She fixed her gaze on him. “Well, it did hurt cats,” she hissed. “First, it hurt you. If I hadn’t come after you, the Twolegs would have captured you for a much longer period of time. Second, it hurt Fireheart. Did you know that he was devastated that you were taken? He wanted to save you, but he had to stay because of his duties, and he wouldn’t have known where you were until Ravenpaw came to tell him. And, because of your selfishness, there was one less set of strong paws there to help feed and protect the Clan.”

“I’m sorry,” Cloudpaw whispered. “I’ll never take food from Twolegs again. I want to be a warrior!”

“Cloudpaw, ‘sorry’ catches no prey,” she told him, recounting the words she had heard many times when she lived in ThunderClan. “If you are going to show your loyalty, then you need to do it now.”

“Right now?” Cloudpaw asked. “Why right now?”

Hollyleaf frowned. “Because if this is when I think it is, Fireheart is about to get into a fight with Tigerclaw and his cats.”

“We have to help him!” Cloudpaw exclaimed, horror on his face.

“Are you sure?” Hollyleaf asked. She wasn’t about to take an apprentice into battle if he wasn’t ready.

“I can do this!” Cloudpaw growled. “Fireheart needs my help.”

Ravenpaw growled too. “I will go with you as well,” he decided. “I owe Tigerclaw a reckoning for what he did to me, to Redtail, and now to the rest of ThunderClan.”

Hollyleaf flexed her tail. “Let’s go.”

By the time they reached the Thunderpath that separated ShadowClan and ThunderClan, Hollyleaf could already see the battle had started. It was definitely going differently than she remembered the story playing out, however.

Tigerclaw was wrestling with a cat she couldn’t recognize from this distance, while a mostly black tom appeared to be getting closer.

As she drew nearer, the black tom turned and ran for the Thunderpath, unaware of the monster that was flying straight for him. Hollyleaf opened her mouth to call out a warning, but before she could do so, the cat who had been fighting Tigerclaw kicked him away and ran towards the other tom. As he ran, Hollyleaf got a clear glimpse of her brother, who hurled himself at the tom with enough force to push him out of the monster’s range. Then the monster struck him instead and stopped with a crash. He fell sideways to the Thunderpath, his eyes closed.

“Lionblaze! No!”

Chapter Text

Fireheart carried the ball of wet moss gently between his teeth. Some of the moisture had dripped out on the journey home, soaking his chest and cooling his forepaws, but there would be enough to quench Willowpelt’s and the kits’ thirst until a patrol could collect more after sunset.

He’d seen no sign of Cinderheart, so it was possible she’d returned to camp while he was talking to Graystripe.

The Clan lay in small groups around the clearing while the sun slowly slid toward the treetops. Most of them had eaten and were quietly sharing tongues in the customary grooming session, pausing briefly between licks to greet Fireheart as he emerged from the gorse tunnel. He nodded to Runningwind, Mousefur, and Thornpaw, who were about to go out on the evening patrol. Lionblaze gave his kits parting licks before going to join them.

Brindleface was getting ready to lead another group of elders to fetch water. She was gathering them together at the fallen oak, and Fireheart heard Smallear’s determined mew as he passed. “We’ll need to keep our ears pricked and our eyes sharp while we’re traveling.’’ The old gray tom went on: “You see that nick in my ear? I got that when I was an apprentice. An owl swooped out of nowhere. But I’ll bet my claws left a bigger scar than his!”

Fireheart felt his fur relax on his shoulders, soothed by the familiar murmurings of Clan life. The ShadowClan cats were gone, just as Cinderpelt had promised, and he had seen Graystripe. He slipped into the nursery and placed the moss gently beside Willowpelt and Goldenflower.

“Thanks, Fireheart,” meowed Willowpelt.

“There’ll be more after supper,” Fireheart promised as the two queens began to lick the precious drops of water from the clump of moss. Bramblekit’s eyes gleamed excitedly from the shadows, and Tawnykit smiled, as Goldenflower pressed the moss with her muzzle to squeeze out another mouthful.

“Brindleface is going to lead the other elders to the river once the sun has set and the woods are clear of Twolegs,” Fireheart explained.

Goldenflower licked her lips. “It’s been a while since some of them have been out in the forest after dark,” she commented.

“I think Smallear is looking forward to it,” purred Fireheart. “He was telling stories about the owl that used to hunt near Sunningrocks. Poor Halftail looked a bit nervous.”

“A little excitement will do him good,” Willowpelt remarked. “I wish I could go with them. A scrap with an owl would be just the thing to stretch my legs!”

“Do you miss being a warrior?” Fireheart asked, surprised. Willowpelt looked so comfortable lying in the nursery while her fast-growing kits scrambled over her. It hadn’t occurred to him she might hanker after her old life.

“Wouldn’t you?” Willowpelt challenged him.

“Well, yes,” stammered Fireheart. “But you have your kits.”

Willowpelt twisted her head to pick up a tiny tortoiseshell-and- white she-kit that had tumbled off her flank. She dropped it between her forepaws and gave it a lick. “Oh, yes, I have my kits,” she agreed. “But I miss running through the forest, hunting for my own prey, and patrolling our borders.” She licked the kit again and added, “I’m looking forward to taking these three out into the forest for the first time.”

“They look like they’ll make fine warriors,” Fireheart meowed. The bittersweet memory of Cloudpaw’s first expedition, when he went into the snowbound forest and came back with a vole, rose in Fireheart’s mind, and he blinked. Had Hollyleaf found him yet? He dipped his head to the queens and turned to leave, glancing furtively at Bramblekit and Tawnykit. He couldn’t help wondering what sort of warrior they would be. Would they kind and gentle, curious and excited, stubborn like Cloudpaw? “Bye,” he mumbled as he squeezed out of the nursery.

He could smell the tempting scents of the fresh-kill pile wafting from nearby, but there was one more thing he had to do before he could settle down for his evening meal. He padded across the clearing to Yellowfang’s den.

The elderly medicine cat was resting in the evening sun beside Jayfeather, her fur dull and unkempt as usual. She lifted her muzzle to greet him. “Hello, Fireheart,” she rasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Cinderpelt,” answered Fireheart.

Jayfeather snorted. “You are, are you?”

“Why? What do you want now?” Cinderpelt’s mew sounded from inside her fern nest, and her gray head popped out.

“Is that any way to greet your deputy?” Yellowfang scolded, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“It is when he disturbs my sleep,” retorted Cinderpelt, clambering out. “He seems determined I shouldn’t get any rest these days!”

Yellowfang narrowed her eyes at Fireheart. “Have you two been up to something I should know about?”

“Are you questioning your deputy?” Cinderpelt teased.

Yellowfang purred. “I know you’ve been up to something,” she meowed. “But I won’t pry. All I know is that my apprentice seems back to her old self again. Which is good, because she was no use to any cat while she was moping around like a damp mushroom!”

Fireheart was very relieved to see the two cats sparring with each other as they had done when Cinderpelt was first apprenticed to the medicine cat, before Silverstream had died. He shifted his paws awkwardly on the sun-baked ground. He had come to tell Cinderpelt that the ShadowClan cats had gone, but with Yellowfang here it was not easy.

“It’s strange,” Yellowfang growled, looking pointedly at Fireheart. “I suddenly feel like fetching another mouse from the fresh-kill pile.” Fireheart blinked gratefully at the old medicine cat. “Anything you want, Cinderpelt?” she called over her shoulder as she padded toward the tunnel. Cinderpelt shook her head.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a moment,” Yellowfang rasped. “Or maybe two. Come with me, Jayfeather?”

He shrugged. “I’m not particularly hungry, but I’ll let them discuss their secrets alone if they want.”

And then he can just read my thoughts to find out what we’ve talked about.

When they had disappeared, Fireheart meowed quietly, “I checked on the ShadowClan cats. They’ve gone.”

“I told you they would,” replied Cinderpelt.

“But they didn’t go until a couple of days ago,” Fireheart added.

“It would haven’t done them any good to travel any sooner,” mewed Cinderpelt. “And I had to make sure they’d learned how to make the herb mixture before they went.”

Fireheart twitched his tail at Cinderpelt’s stubbornness, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. He knew she believed with all her heart that she had done the right thing in caring for them, and part of him agreed it had been worth the risk.

“I did tell them to leave, you know,” she meowed, her tone losing some of its certainty.

“I believe you,” Fireheart agreed gently. “It was my responsibility to make sure they left, not yours.” Cinderpelt looked up at him curiously. “How do you know when they left?”

“Graystripe told me.”

“You spoke to Graystripe? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Fireheart purred. “He swims like a fish now.”

“You’re kidding!” mewed Cinderpelt. “I’d never have expected that.”

“Me neither,” Fireheart agreed, then stopped, embarrassed, when his belly growled with hunger.

“Go and eat,” Cinderpelt ordered. “You’d better hurry up before Yellowfang demolishes the entire pile. Jayfeather certainly won’t stop her.”

Fireheart leaned down and licked Cinderpelt’s ears. “See you later,” he mewed.

Yellowfang had left him the choice of squirrel or a pigeon. Fireheart took the pigeon and looked around the clearing, wondering where to eat it. He sensed Sandstorm watching him, her slender body stretched out and her tail neatly curled over her hind legs.

Fireheart felt his heart begin to beat faster. Now, in the peaceful camp, they had some time to just relax together.. He padded across the clearing to join her. As he laid his pigeon beside her and started to eat, he heard her begin to purr.

Suddenly a terrible caterwauling made Fireheart jerk up his head. Sandstorm scrambled to her paws as Mousefur and Thornpaw thundered into the clearing. Their fur was matted with blood, and Thornpaw was limping badly.

Fireheart swallowed his mouthful quickly and heaved himself up. “What happened? Where’s Runningwind? Where’s Lionblaze?”

The other cats gathered behind him, hissing with fear, their fur bristling as they prepared for trouble.

“I don’t know. We were attacked,” panted Mousefur.

“By who?” Fireheart demanded.

Mousefur shook her head. “We couldn’t see. We were in the shadows.”

“But what about their scent?”

“Too near the Thunderpath. Couldn’t tell,” answered Thornpaw, his breath coming in short gasps.

Fireheart looked at the apprentice, who was swaying unsteadily on his paws. “Go and see Yellowfang,” he ordered. “Whitestorm, Nighthunter!” he called to the warriors who were already hurrying from Bluestar’s den. “I want you to come with us.” He turned to Mousefur. “Lead us to where this happened.”

Sandstorm and Dustpelt looked expectantly at Fireheart, waiting to receive orders. “You two stay here and guard the camp,” he meowed. “This might be a trap to lure our warriors away. It’s happened before.” With Bluestar on her last life, Fireheart knew he had to leave the camp well protected.

He charged out of the camp with Whitestorm and Nighthunter at his side and Mousefur panting behind them. Together they scrambled up the ravine and raced into the forest.

Fireheart slowed his pace when he saw that Mousefur was struggling to keep up. “Quick as you can,” he urged. He knew she must be in pain after the fight, but they had to find Runningwind. He had a horrible feeling that this attack must have something to do with ShadowClan. Littlecloud and Whitethroat had been in ThunderClan territory so recently. Had they tricked him into leading his Clan into danger after all? He headed instinctively toward the Thunderpath.

“No,” called Mousefur. “It’s this way.” She brushed past him, quickening her pace, and veered toward Fourtrees. Fireheart and Whitestorm sped after her.

As they raced through the trees, Fireheart realized he had been this way before. This was the trail Littlecloud and Whitethroat had followed after Bluestar had sent them away the first time. Had a ShadowClan raiding party come through the stone tunnel under the Thunderpath?

Mousefur skidded to a halt between two towering ash trees. The Thunderpath droned in the distance, its foul stench drifting through the undergrowth. Ahead, Fireheart saw Runningwind limping towards them. A black-and-white tom was standing next to him. With a jolt, Fireheart realized that it was Whitethroat.

The ShadowClan warrior’s eyes stretched wide as he saw the approaching cats. He began to back away from Runningwind, his legs stumbling with shock. “He’s hurt!” he wailed.

Fireheart’s ears flattened as rage pulsed through him. Was this how ShadowClan warriors repaid another Clan’s kindness? Without stopping to see what Whitestorm, Nighthunter and Mousefur were doing, he let out a furious screech and flung himself at Whitethroat, who shrank away, hissing. Fireheart knocked the ShadowClan warrior backward, and Whitethroat landed limply on the ground, offering no resistance as Fireheart loomed over him.

“You need to listen to me,” Whitethroat gasped, his voice almost in audible. “I didn’t attack Runningwind; Tigerclaw did. He tried to kill him, but Lionblaze stopped him before he could. They’re still fighting now.”

Fireheart stared down, confused, as his enemy crouched helplessly beneath him, his eyes narrowed into terrified slits. While he hesitated, Whitethroat darted away and bolted into a tangle of brambles. Fireheart chased after him, ignoring the thorns that tore at his fur. The ShadowClan warrior must be heading for the stone tunnel. He pushed onward and caught a glimpse of the tip of Whitethroat’s tail as the tom struggled out of the brambles onto the grass verge.

Fireheart emerged a moment later and saw Whitethroat poised on the edge of the Thunderpath.

Fireheart hurtled toward him, expecting Whitethroat to flee to the tunnel, but Whitethroat took one look at the ThunderClan warrior and raced straight onto the Thunderpath.

Fireheart watched in horror as the terrified cat scrambled blindly across the hard gray surface. A deafening roar sounded in his ears. Fireheart shrank back, screwing up his face as the foul-smelling wind of a monster blasted his fur. When it had passed, he blinked open his eyes and shook the grit from his ear fur. A ragged shape was lying motionless on the Thunderpath. But it wasn’t Whitethroat; the black-and-white warrior was pushing himself to his paws a few paw-lengths away from where the monster was stopped, the front of it a steaming jagged mess. 

A familiar voice screeched, “Lionblaze! No!” and Fireheart realized exactly what had happened.

Lionblaze had pushed Whitethroat out of the way. Then the monster had hit Lionblaze.

For a long heartbeat Fireheart froze, flooded by dreadful memories of Cinderpelt’s accident. Then he saw Lionblaze stir. Fireheart couldn’t leave any cat out there. Especially not his own grandson. He quickly ran over to check on the tom, didn’t seem to be injured. His powers must have protected him! But he was completely unconscious. Fireheart wondered if he’d wake up anytime soon.

Fireheart stared at Whitethroat. Trembling with shock, he looked down at the warrior Cinderpelt had taken such trouble to care for, in secret from the rest of her Clan. “Why did you attack our patrol?” he whispered.

He leaned down as Whitethroat opened his mouth to speak, but the warrior’s panicked mew was drowned as a monster roared past terrifyingly close, sending a wave of fumes and grit over the two cats. Fireheart sank his claws as well as he could into the unyielding surface and crouched closer to the ShadowClan warrior. Before he could do anything, the monster skidded to a stop ahead of them, then, with a terrible screeching noise, turned around and came right back.

The Twoleg inside it went to one side of the monster that had hit Lionblaze.

Whitethroat opened his mouth again. “You have to believe me!” he pleaded. “I had nothing to do with attacking Runningwind. Then his eyes grew wide and terrified as he stared at something behind Fireheart.

He spun around to see what had filled Whitethroat’s eyes with such terror. His heart lurched when he saw who stood at the edge of the Thunderpath — the dark warrior who had prowled through so many of his dreams.

Tigerclaw.

Fireheart’s claws felt rooted to the Thunderpath as he stared at the cat that had cast a menacing shadow over his life for so long. There was no need for any pretense of shared Clan loyalty now. Tigerclaw was an outcast, the enemy of all cats who followed the warrior code.

The fiery evening sun bled through the tips of the trees, its orange rays glowing on the dark pelt of the massive tabby. Across the silence of the now-full Thunderpath, Tigerclaw sneered at Fireheart.

“Is chasing puny cats to their deaths the best you can do to defend your territory?”

Fireheart’s mind cleared in a heartbeat, leaving his body pulsing with strength and cold fury. He stared straight into Tigerclaw’s eyes as the thundering of another monster stirred his ear fur. He held his ground as it whipped by him, another roaring at its heels. But Fireheart felt no fear.

“Get Lionblaze off of here,” he ordered Whitethroat grimly.

Then, in the fleeting gap between the two monsters he focused on Tigerclaw and sprang.

Tigerclaw’s eyes widened with surprise as Fireheart crashed into him, claws unsheathed and hissing with rage. They rolled together across the grass into the cover of the trees. Fireheart drew strength from the familiar scents of the forest — his territory now, not Tigerclaw’s — and the pair struggled wildly, flattening the brittle undergrowth and gouging deep scars in the ground with their claws.

Fireheart had gotten a good grip on Tigerclaw in his first pounce. He could feel every one of the tabby’s ribs. Tigerclaw had lost weight, but his muscles felt hard beneath his thick pelt, and Fireheart quickly realized that exile had not diminished the warrior’s strength. Tigerclaw crouched and leaped upward, twisting in midair. Fireheart felt himself being flung from Tigerclaw’s back, felt the impact of the parched ground as he landed on his side. He gasped for the air that had been knocked from his lungs and struggled to his paws. He wasn’t fast enough. Tigerclaw pounced on him, pinning him to the ground with claws that seemed to pierce Fireheart to the bone.

Fireheart yowled in agony, but the massive tom held him down, and he smelled the stench of crowfood as Tigerclaw stretched his neck forward to hiss into Fireheart’s ear, “Are you listening, kittypet? I will kill you, and all your warriors, one by one.”

Even in the heat of battle, his words sent a chill through Fireheart. He knew Tigerclaw meant what he said. He suddenly became aware of new noises and smells around him — the rustle of unfamiliar paws and strange cat scents. They were surrounded. But by whom? Confused by the scents of the Thunderpath, Twoleg blood, and his own fear, Fireheart wondered bleakly if these could be the remaining cats from Brokentail’s band of outcasts, who not long ago had helped Tigerclaw attack the ThunderClan camp. Had Whitethroat chosen to join these rogues rather than return to his own disease-ridden Clan? But if he had, why had he chosen to give up, rather than fight him?

In desperation Fireheart pushed up with his hind legs, his claws raking for a hold on Tigerclaw’s belly. His old enemy must have underestimated how strong Fireheart had grown, for his grip loosened and he slithered onto the ground. Fireheart scrabbled away from him, lifting his head in time to see Mousefur and Whitestorm hurl themselves from the undergrowth onto two of the cats that had surrounded them. Meanwhile, Nighthunter charged past them, throwing herself at Stripestalk in fury. He glanced back at Tigerclaw, who had sprung to his paws and was rearing onto his hind legs, towering over Fireheart with his teeth bared and his amber eyes gleaming with hatred. He ducked as Tigerclaw lunged, darting forward and turning to swipe the dark warrior on the nose. Beside him he could hear the yowls and hisses of Whitestorm, Nighthunter, and Mousefur as they battled with the courage of StarClan. But they were badly outnumbered.

As Fireheart dodged Tigerclaw once more, he looked around desperately for any means of escape. He could see Hollyleaf standing frozen, staring across the Thunderpath at her unconscious brother. Cloudpaw was with her, prodding her shoulder gently as if trying to rouse her. There was a scent of another cat there, but he couldn’t make it out. Claws raked at his hind legs, and he turned to see one of Tigerclaw’s rogues grasping him and snarling viciously. He was skinny and ungroomed like the others, his eyes glittering with spite.

Tigerclaw reared up again with a furious hiss. Fireheart was bracing himself for Tigerclaw’s blow when he saw a blaze of gray. A broad pair of shoulders flashed past, and Fireheart recognized a warrior he had fought alongside many times before.

Graystripe!

The gray warrior lunged at Tigerclaw’s exposed belly, knocking him backward. Ravenpaw was waiting there, catching Tigerclaw with ease and raking his claws down the dark warrior’s back, eyes glowing with grim satisfaction. Fireheart whipped around and bit the shoulder of the cat that clung to his hind leg until he felt his teeth scrape against bone. He released the rogue when he squealed, and spat out the blood that had dripped into his mouth.

Astounded, Fireheart looked at the battle that raged around him. Graystripe must have brought a whole RiverClan patrol, for now it was the rogue cats who were outnumbered as they struggled against the sleek-furred warriors. He turned to see Graystripe twisting free of Tigerclaw’s grasp and sprang to help his friends. Together they reared at Tigerclaw, swiping at him to drive him backward, matched step for step as they had practiced so many times in training. Then, without even exchanging a glance, they lunged as one and forced the massive tabby onto the ground. Tigerclaw let out a muffled hiss as Fireheart pressed his foe’s muzzle into the dirt while Graystripe grasped the tabby’s shoulders and pounded his flank with his hind legs. Ravenpaw bit down hard on Tigerclaw’s tail.

Hollyleaf had come back to her senses, and now she and Cloudpaw were fighting tail-to-tail against a pair of rogues. He’d never seen her fight before, but it was clear that she hadn’t forgotten any of her training. She slashed at a black-furred rogue’s ears, then reared up and cuffed him in the side of the head. Meanwhile, Cloudpaw, despite being overweight and out of shape, managed to slip underneath his opponent and jumped straight upward, sending the rogue flying with a wail.

Fireheart heard screeches fading into the woods and realized that the rogue cats were fleeing the battle. Tigerclaw took advantage of Fireheart’s lapse of attention and wriggled free, somehow ripping his tail from Ravenpaw’s teeth in the process. He fled toward the brambles, spitting with fury, and disappeared among the barbed stems.

Only one fight was still going on, though it wasn’t much of a fight. Nighthunter had pinned Stripestalk to the ground. She slashed at her daughter’s black-and-white pelt mercilessly, but for some reason, Stripestalk didn’t fight back. She just lay there, her eyes glimmering with sadness, as blood dripped from her wounds.

Nighthunter raised one paw, her claws glinting. “I’m going to make sure you can’t escape,” she hissed. “You’re going to come back with us and tell us everything.”

But before she could strike, Whitethroat dashed across the Thunderpath and charged into her side. “You can’t do that!” he wailed. “She hasn’t betrayed you; she’s spying on Tigerclaw!”

“What in StarClan are you talking about?” Nighthunter demanded, her paw still raised. “Is this true?” she growled at her daughter. Stripestalk didn’t say anything. She looked like she might be in shock.

“It’s true,” Whitethroat gasped. “She left with Tigerclaw so she could keep an eye on him and figure out what he was up to.”

Nighthunter looked down at Stripestalk, her gaze softening. She stepped back, leaving space for Stripestalk to get to her paws, but the black-and-white warrior didn’t move. She just stayed on the ground, staring.

Whitethroat growled quietly and nosed her to her paws. “Come on,” he told her. “It’s time to go.” For a few heartbeats, Stripestalk still didn’t move. Then she let out a gasp, the light returning to her eyes. The two cats disappeared into the bracken, with Stripestalk leaning heavily on Whitethroat’s shoulder.

She’s been spying on Tigerclaw this whole time?

As the wails of the rogue cats faded away, the warriors shook the dust from their pelts and licked their wounds. Fireheart realized for the first time that Bluestar’s son, Stonefur, was among the RiverClan cats. “Is anyone badly hurt?” he gasped.

The cats shook their heads, even Mousefur, who was still bleeding from the first attack.

“We should return to our own territory,” meowed Stonefur.

“ThunderClan thanks you for your help.” Fireheart dipped his head respectfully.

“Rogue cats threaten all of us,” Stonefur replied. “We couldn’t leave you to fight them alone.”

Whitestorm shook his muzzle, scattering drops of blood. He looked at Graystripe and Ravenpaw. “It’s good to fight beside you again, friends. What brought you here?”

“He heard Fireheart’s yowl from Fourtrees, where we were patrolling,” Stonefur answered for Graystripe. “He persuaded us to come and help.”

“Thanks,” answered Fireheart warmly. “All of you.”

Stonefur nodded and turned away into the trees. His patrol followed. Fireheart touched Graystripe with his muzzle as he passed, sorry to see him leave, and painfully aware that there was no time to say as much as he wanted. “See you, Graystripe,” he meowed.

He felt Graystripe’s purr rumbling through his thick coat. “See you,” murmured the gray warrior.

Ravenpaw was smiling in satisfaction. “I owed Tigerclaw that,” he growled.

“That you did,” Nighthunter agreed. She turned to Cloudpaw. “And you fought well, young one. It is good to see that you have returned to the Clan.”

“Thank you, Nighthunter,” Cloudpaw purred. His blue eyes were filled with guilt. “I promise I’ll stay away from Twolegs from now on.”

Nighthunter smiled. “That is not entirely unnecessary. After all, Twolegplace is where your mother lives. I’m sure she would love to see you and make sure you’re all right.”

Fireheart shivered as the sun finally disappeared from the forest. He could see Mousefur’s eyes shining in the dark, tense with worry. Then he felt a fresh wave of sorrow as he remembered the price that had been paid for the rogue cats’ attack. He could see Runningwind watching over Lionblaze now. The tabby tom was standing awkwardly, favoring one of forelegs. And this was not the only unnecessary injury Tigerclaw had brought to the forest that day.

Fireheart looked at Whitestorm. “Can you get Runningwind back to camp without me?”

The white warrior narrowed his eyes curiously but said nothing and nodded.

Fireheart twitched his ear. “I’ll follow you back soon. There’s something I must do first.”

Fireheart padded heavily back to the Thunderpath. The smell of Tigerclaw and the rogue cats was still heavy in the air, but he could hear no noises other than birdsong and the whispering of the breeze through the leaves. In the calm after the battle, he noticed how strongly the scent of ShadowClan mingled with the other smells. Had there been other ShadowClan cats, as well as Whitethroat, among the rogues? He wondered if the sickness in the ShadowClan camp was so bad that its warriors were imposing their own exile and joining up with Tigerclaw’s band of outcasts for protection. Or perhaps the scent had simply wafted from the territory on the other side of the Thunderpath. But Honeyfern and Molepaw had said that Tigerclaw was working with ShadowClan.

Fireheart stared across the hard gray path at the monsters that had gathered around the one that had struck Lionblaze. There were many of them, with flashing red and yellow and blue lights so bright he could barely see, squinting desperately. The Twolegs were running around wildly, all waving their naked paws and yelling at each other.

Lionblaze must be truly powerful to have caused all this, he thought. He couldn’t help but feel a faint satisfaction. These monsters had killed many cats in the Clans, including Bluestar’s own sister. At least Lionblaze had managed to kill one of them.

When he turned back, Hollyleaf was licking Lionblaze’s pelt, as though she were a mother grooming her kit.

“Hollyleaf,” he rasped.

She glanced up at him. “He’s alive,” she promised. “His powers protected him. He’s just unconscious now.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Those of us who are immortal generally recover from immediately fatal wounds the same way that leaders do when they lose their nine lives, and if we get a bad sickness or an infected wound, it won’t kill us, but it may leave us in a coma. Lionblaze though…he exists in a different form altogether. Most likely, he’ll wake up soon.”

Fireheart touched his nose to hers. “I believe he will wake up soon,” he told her. “All of ThunderClan thanks you for your help today.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have helped you more,” she apologized.

He shook his head. “You watched your brother get struck by a monster. Any of us would have reacted the same way.”

On the ground, Lionblaze began to stir, and Hollyleaf sighed. “He’s waking up, she realized. “I must go now.”

He smiled sadly. “Thank you for getting Cloudpaw back. May StarClan light your path.”

*  *  *  *  *

When Fireheart entered the moonlit ThunderClan camp, heavily supporting Lionblaze on one side, Runningwind lay outside the medicine den. He looked peaceful, stretched out asleep, and Fireheart guessed that one of the medicine cats had treated him. Bluestar was pacing around the clearing, her eyes staring towards the camp entrance.

Did she keep watch to make sure I got back to camp safely?

The rest of the Clan hung back, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the clearing. The air was thick with tension. He could see Nighthunter confronting Dustpelt, her furious voice echoing through the camp.

Cinderheart immediately ran from the nursery. “Lionblaze!” She began sniffing at his pelt. “You mouse-brain!” she hissed. “What were you thinking, running out in front of a monster?”

Lionblaze was still dazed, and he didn’t answer right away. “Whitethroat would have died,” he meowed.

“So you decided to test your invulnerability by getting hit by a monster? That was a stupid risk to take.”

“I’m alive, Whitethroat’s alive, and Runningwind’s alive,” Lionblaze mumbled. “All in all, I think it went rather well.”

She glared at him. “You’re going to the medicine cats’ den to properly get checked out. I’m not taking any chances.”

“But our kits?”

“Goldenflower and Speckletail are watching them. They’ll be fine while we make sure that you are fine.” She led him to the medicine cats’ den.

Fireheart could feel the Clan watching him as he approached their leader. Bluestar looked up, and he saw that her eyes were clouded with anger.

“He said Tigerclaw did this,” she rasped. “He was taken completely by surprise, and if Lionblaze hadn’t pulled Tigerclaw away, he would have been killed.”

“His rogues were there too.”

“How many are there?”

“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted. It had been impossible to count in the thick of battle. “Many.”

Bluestar shook her head, but Fireheart knew she had to be told everything. “Tigerclaw wants vengeance against ThunderClan,” he reported. “He told me he is going to kill our warriors one by one.”

Behind him the Clan exploded into horrified yowls. Fireheart let them wail, keeping his eyes fixed on Bluestar. He felt his heart flutter like a trapped bird as he begged StarClan to give her the strength to cope with this openly declared threat. Gradually the Clan fell silent, and Fireheart waited with them for Bluestar to speak. An owl screeched in the distance as it dived through the trees.

“He can try,” she growled. “And he will fail. ThunderClan is stronger than he realizes.”

“ThunderClan is strong!” Owltuft yowled.

“Tigerclaw won’t scare us!” Longtail put in.

Sweetmint stepped forward. “Tigerclaw was a fool to threaten us,” she growled. “He may be strong alone, but we are stronger together.”

Bluestar raised her muzzle to the sky. “ThunderClan! ThunderClan!” she yelled to the stars.

The rest of the clan followed her example. “ThunderClan! ThunderClan! ThunderClan!”

Every cat seemed in a better mood after that, and they slowly began to leave the shadows and share tongues.

Bluestar gave Fireheart a pensive look. “You’d better get those injuries seen to,” she ordered.

“Yes, Bluestar.” He padded through the ferns to Yellowfang’s den, his bites and scratches beginning to sting as much as the thorn-sharp doubts that fretted in his mind.

Lionblaze wasn’t there nor was Jayfeather, but Thornpaw sat in the well-trampled grass clearing. Cinderpelt and Yellowfang crouched beside him while he held up a paw for them to examine. Cinderpelt peeled a wad of cobwebs away from the pad, making Thornpaw grimace. “It’s still bleeding,” the apprentice medicine cat reported.

“It should have stopped by now,” rasped Yellowfang. “We need to dry this wound before infection creeps in.”

Cinderpelt’s eyes narrowed. “We have those horsetail stems I gathered yesterday. What if we drip some sap onto the cobwebs before we bind them onto the paw? That might stop the bleeding.”

Yellowfang let out a rumbling purr. “Good thinking.” The old medicine cat turned at once and hurried toward her den while Cinderpelt pressed on Thornpaw’s wound with her paw. Only then did she notice Fireheart standing in the tunnel entrance.

“Fireheart!” she mewed, her blue eyes showing her concern. “Are you okay?”

“Just a few scratches and a bite or two,” Fireheart replied, padding forward to join them.

“I heard that it was rogue cats who attacked us,” meowed Thornpaw, twisting his head to look up at Fireheart. “And that Tigerclaw was with them. Is it true?”

“It’s true,” Fireheart told him gravely.

Cinderpelt glanced at Fireheart, then shook the ginger apprentice’s paw. “Here, press on this.”

“Me?” mewed Thornpaw in surprise.

“It’s your paw! Hurry up, or you’ll have to change your name to Nopaw.”

Thornpaw lifted his paw higher and clamped his jaws carefully around the wound.

“Bluestar should never have let Tigerclaw leave the Clan,” Cinderpelt mewed quietly to Fireheart. “She should have killed him while she had the chance.”

Fireheart shook his head. “She would never have killed him in cold blood. You know that.”

Cinderpelt didn’t argue. “Why has he come back now? And how could he try to kill a warrior he once fought beside?”

“He told me he is going to kill as many of us as he can,” Fireheart meowed darkly.

Thornpaw let out a muffled mew, and Cinderpelt’s whiskers quivered with shock. “But why?” asked the young medicine cat.

Fireheart felt his eyes cloud with anger. “Because ThunderClan didn’t give him what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“To be leader,” Fireheart answered simply.

“Well, he’ll never get to be a leader this way. He’s hardly going to make himself popular with the Clan if he starts attacking our patrols like this.”

“Do you really believe that?” he pressed.

The noise of Yellowfang’s pawsteps as she returned from her den startled them, and all three cats turned. A wad of cobwebs dangled from the old medicine cat’s jaws. She dropped them beside Cinderpelt and meowed, “Believe what?”

“That Tigerclaw will never become Clan leader,” Cinderpelt explained.

Yellowfang’s eyes darkened and she didn’t speak for several long heartbeats. “I think Tigerclaw has the strength of ambition to become whatever he wants to be,” she meowed at last. “He may not have killed Runningwind, but that forepaw is badly sprained.”

“Tigerclaw will not become leader as long as Fireheart is alive,” Cinderpelt argued.

Fireheart felt warmed by her faith in him and was about to respond when Thornpaw complained, his words muffled, “It’s still bleeding you know!”

“Not for long,” answered Yellowfang briskly. “Here, Cinderpelt. You make use of these cobwebs while I see to Fireheart’s wounds.” She nudged the cobwebs closer to Cinderpelt and led Fireheart away to her den.

As they left, he heard Cinderpelt mutter, “Please be careful while you’re healing. I’d prefer to not have my littermates getting hurt all the time.”

“Wait here,” Yellowfang ordered, and disappeared inside. She emerged with a mouthful of well-chewed herbs. “Now, where does it hurt?”

“This one’s the worst,” answered Fireheart, twisting his head to point to a bite on his shoulder.

“Right,” meowed Yellowfang. She began to rub in some of the herb mixture with a gentle paw. “Bluestar’s taking this well,” she murmured, not looking up from what she was doing. “She’s inspired the Clan.”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed. “I’m going to organize more patrols at once. We can’t let something like this happen again.”

“It may help calm the rest of the Clan too,” Yellowfang remarked. “They might have been inspired by Bluestar, but they’re still really worried.”

“They should be.” Fireheart winced as Yellowfang pressed the herbs deep into his wound.

“How are the new apprentices coming along?” she asked, her voice deceptively casual.

Fireheart knew the old medicine cat was offering advice in her wise and indirect fashion. “I’ll speed up their training, starting at dawn,” he told her. Relief filled him as he thought of Cloudpaw’s return. The Clan needed him now more than ever; no matter what the white apprentice had thought of the warrior code, no cat could deny that he was a brave and skillful fighter.

Yellowfang stopped massaging his shoulder.

“Have you finished?” he meowed.

“Nearly. I’ll just put a little on those scratches; then you can go.” The old cat blinked at him with wide yellow eyes. “Have courage, young Fireheart. These are dark times for ThunderClan, but no cat could do more than you have.” As she spoke, there was a low rumble of thunder in the distance, a hint of menace that sent a chill through Fireheart’s fur in spite of the medicine cat’s encouragement.

“Did Nighthunter tell the Clan about Stripestalk?” he asked.

Yellowfang nodded. “Apparently, Dustpelt knew the truth the whole time, as did Bluestar.”

Dustpelt being aware of Stripestalk’s acting as a spy made sense, but Bluestar? “When did Bluestar find out?”

“Mistflow told her when Jayfeather helped her reach StarClan,” Yellowfang explained. “But she told her to keep it a secret.”

“I’m sure Nighthunter was thrilled.”

“She understood why Bluestar stayed quiet, but she’s absolutely furious with Dustpelt.”

Fireheart frowned. “I can’t say that I approve of his decision myself,” he admitted. “If he’d said something sooner, Nighthunter might not have hurt Stripestalk so badly.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Yellowfang sighed. “I’m sure she’ll recover.”

When he returned to the main clearing, his wounds numbed by Yellowfang’s healing herbs, Fireheart was surprised to find many of the cats still awake. Bluestar, Whitestorm, and Mousefur crouched silently beside Runningwind, watching over him as he slept, their concern made plain in their lowered heads and tense shoulders. The other cats lay in small groups, their eyes blinking in the shadows and their ears twitching nervously as they listened to the noises of the forest.

Fireheart lay down at the edge of the clearing. The stifling air made his fur prickle. The whole forest seemed to be waiting for the storm to break. A shadow moved near the edge of the clearing. Fireheart swung his head around. It was Darkstripe.

Fireheart beckoned the striped warrior closer with his tail. Darkstripe slowly padded toward him. “I want you to take out a second patrol as soon as the dawn patrol returns tomorrow,” Fireheart meowed. “From now on there will be three extra patrols every day, and all patrols will have at least three warriors.”

Darkstripe looked coolly at Fireheart. “But Owltuft asked me to take Fernpaw out training tomorrow morning.”

Fireheart’s fur prickled with irritation. “Then take her with you,” he snapped. “It’ll be good experience. We need to speed up apprentice training anyway.”

Darkstripe’s ears flicked, but his gaze remained steady. “Yes, deputy,” he murmured, his eyes glittering.

Chapter Text

Fireheart wearily pushed his way into Bluestar’s den. Even though it was not yet sunhigh, he’d been out on patrol twice already that day. And he would be taking Whitestorm’s apprentice, Brightpaw, out hunting this afternoon along with Cloudpaw. The days since Tigerclaw’s attack had been busy. All the warriors and apprentices were exhausted trying to keep up with the new patrols. With Willowpelt, Cinderheart, and Goldenflower in the nursery, Whitestorm reluctant to leave his mate’s side, and Runningwind and Lionblaze confined to camp while they recovered, Fireheart barely had time to eat and sleep. The only good news was that now that Cloudpaw was back, he’d thrown himself intently into his duties.

Bluestar crouched in her nest, her eyes closed, and for a moment Fireheart wondered if she was sleeping. She’d joined more than half of the patrols lately, so it was no wonder she was exhausted.

“Bluestar,” Fireheart quietly called her name.

The old she-cat turned her head toward him, instantly alert.

“We’ve been patrolling the forest constantly,” he reported. “There’s been no sign of Tigerclaw and his rogues.”

Bluestar looked away. “That’s good to hear,” she meowed. “If things stay peaceful, we may be able to reduce some of the patrols. With so many cats off duty, the rest of us are worn out.”

“Hopefully that will be soon,” Fireheart agreed. Bluestar nodded to him, indicating he could leave.

The sunlit clearing looked so peaceful that it was hard to believe the Clan faced any dangers.

Brackenfur was playing with Willowpelt’s kits outside the nursery, flicking his tail for them to chase, while Whitestorm rested in the shade beneath the Highrock. Only the fact that the white warrior’s ears were pricked toward Bluestar’s den betrayed the strain the Clan was under.

As always, Hollykit, Honeykit, Bramblekit, and Tawnykit were chasing each other around the camp. This time Snowkit joined them, letting out squeals of delight at being included in their games.

Fireheart stared unenthusiastically toward the growing pile of fresh-kill. His belly felt tight and hollow, but he couldn’t imagine being able to swallow anything. He spotted Sandstorm eating a piece of fresh-kill.

The sight of her sleek orange pelt was an unexpected pleasure, and Fireheart suddenly couldn’t help thinking how much he’d enjoy his mate’s company while he was out hunting with Brightpaw and Cloudpaw. The thought restored Fireheart’s appetite, and his belly growled with anticipation of the chase. He would leave the fresh-kill for the others to share.

At that moment Brightpaw trotted into the camp behind Mousefur, Frostfur, and Halftail. They were bringing water-soaked moss for the queens and elders. Brightpaw carried her dripping bundle toward Bluestar’s den under Whitestorm’s appreciative gaze.

Fireheart called across to Sandstorm. “You promised you’d catch us a rabbit whenever I asked. You up for coming hunting with Cloudpaw, Brightpaw, and me?”

Sandstorm looked up. Her green eyes shone with an unspoken message that made Fireheart’s pelt glow more warmly than the rays of the sun ever could. “Okay,” she called back. “Let me just get Tulippaw.” She quickly gulped down her last mouthful of food. Still licking her lips, she called over her apprentice before she trotted toward Fireheart.

They waited side by side for the apprentices, and although their pelts barely touched, Fireheart could feel his fur tingle. This is nice, he thought.

“Are you ready to go hunting?” Fireheart asked Brightpaw as soon as she emerged from Bluestar’s den.

“Now?” mewed Brightpaw, surprised.

“I know it’s not sunhigh yet, but we can leave now if you’re not too tired.”

Brightpaw shook her head. Cloudpaw and Tulippaw emerged from the elders’ den, their pelts speckled with bits of moss. They greeted her with friendly meows and hurried after the warriors as Fireheart and Sandstorm raced through the gorse tunnel, out into the forest.

With the apprentices on his heels, Fireheart followed Sandstorm up the ravine and into the woods, impressed at the way her muscles flexed smoothly under her pale ginger coat. He knew she must be as tired as he was, but she kept up a quick pace through the undergrowth, her ears pricked and her mouth open.

“I think we’ve found one!” she hissed suddenly, dropping into a hunting crouch. Brightpaw opened her mouth to scent the air. Fireheart stood still while Sandstorm drew herself silently through the bushes. He could smell the rabbit and hear it snuffling in the undergrowth beyond a clump of ferns. Sandstorm suddenly shot forward, making the leaves rustle as she sped through them. Fireheart heard the rabbit’s hind legs pound against the parched ground as it tried to escape. Leaving the apprentices behind, he leaped instinctively, swerving around the ferns, and chasing it through the undergrowth and across the forest floor as it bolted away from Sandstorm’s sharp claws. He took its life with one sharp bite, uttering a silent prayer of thanks to StarClan for filling the forest with prey, even if they hadn’t sent rain for so long. The storm that had been promised by the rumbles of thunder a few evenings ago had not come, and the air was as brittle and stifling as ever.

Sandstorm skidded to a halt beside Fireheart as he crouched over the rabbit. He could hear her panting. His own breath was coming in gasps too.

“Thanks,” she meowed. “I’m a bit slow today.”

“Me too,” Fireheart admitted.

“You need a rest,” Sandstorm meowed gently.

“We all do.” Fireheart felt the warmth of her soft green gaze.

“But you’ve been twice as busy as everyone else.”

“There’s a lot to do.” Fireheart forced himself to add, “And I’m training Cloudpaw too.”

By giving himself more patrols and hunting missions than any other cat, Fireheart knew that he was trying to prove himself to the rest of the Clan, and to push away his own private doubts about his abilities as a warrior. He knew that Cloudpaw felt the same way, and was pushing himself to make up for his past behavior.

Sandstorm seemed to sense Fireheart’s anxiety. “I know there’s a lot to do. Perhaps I can help more.” She glanced up at him, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I’m a mentor too. You don’t always have to take two or three apprentices with you by yourself.”

“Yeah, Whitestorm would take me off your paws if you asked him too,” Brightpaw added.

“But I like training with you!” Cloudpaw immediately protested. “You actually help me understand the warrior code.”

Brightpaw smiled at him. “I enjoy training with you too,” she assured him. “You helped me with my confidence in battle training.”

“I’ll do battle training with you any time!”

Tulippaw rolled his eyes. “What about me? I’ve been doing battle training with you too!”

“You’ve been helpful too, Tulippaw.”

Fireheart exchanged an amused look with Sandstorm. He hadn’t realized Cloudpaw was getting along with Brightpaw quite so well.

“Come on,” he ordered. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

*  *  *  *  *

A few nights later, Jayfeather opened his eyes to a thoroughly unexpected site: a very angry Honeyfern and Molepaw glaring at Yellowfang. He knew immediately that it wasn’t the Yellowfang he’d been working beside for the last few seasons. This Yellowfang had stars shining in her fur, and was watching him uneasily.

“When did you get to the past?” he demanded. “Last I knew, you weren’t dead yet.”

“That’s why I’m here now,” she meowed. “It’s my only chance to come back, because soon, I will be dead.”

He froze. “The fire!”

She nodded. “Yes. When you next wake up, ThunderClan’s territory will be in flames, and I will die. There is nothing you can do to change my fate.”

“Did you come just to tell me that I’ll be useless in what comes next?”

Honeyfern growled. “No, she didn’t.” With a fierce glare at the older medicine cat, she added, “Yellowfang has something she needs to tell you–now.”

Jayfeather frowned. “What is it?”

“It’s about Squirrelflight and Leafpool,” Yellowfang began. “There’s something that happened that no one has told you–that I, haven’t told you.”

“Yellowfang, what is it?” he hissed. How were there still more secrets?

Reluctantly, Yellowfang told him. “Back when Leafpool found out she was expecting kits, she visited the Moonpool several times to seek guidance. During one of those visits, she brought Squirrelflight with her asking for my help.”

“What kind of help?”

Yellowfang frowned. “Perhaps it’s easier if I just show you.”

“Show me what?”

“I’m going to show you Leafpool’s memory of what happened that day,” Yellowfang explained. “But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You can’t say anything until the memory is over. No growling or sarcastic remarks or anything of that sort. I will answer all your questions once the memory ends.”

Jayfeather wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to manage that, but he nodded once. “Fine.”

Then the world spun in front of his eyes, and suddenly he was Leafpool.

Leafpool joined her sister as Brambleclaw bounded up the Highledge to report to Firestar.

“Will you come to the Moonpool with me?” Leafpool asked. “I need to speak with StarClan and I don’t want to go alone.” Leafpool risked a glance at her cumbersome belly. “Obviously.”

Squirrelflight nodded. “All right, I’ll come. Do you want to go now?”

“If we can. Brightheart can take care of Whitepaw for today.”

“Let me tell Firestar and Brambleclaw first.” Squirrel flight trotted up the rocks and vanished into the leader’s den. Leafpool felt the kits sagging inside her and thought with dread of the long trek up to the Moonpool.

Squirrelflight reappeared. “That’s all fine. Come on, then.” She looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, but as pale as a dove’s wing. “At least we shouldn’t get wet.”

She was right, it didn’t rain, but the journey was harder than Leafpool had ever found it before. Every stone seemed to roll away from her paws, every bramble reached out to snag her fur, and the weight of her belly made her gasp for breath. Squirrelflight slowed her pace to walk beside her, boosting her up the rocks and urging her on when all Leafpool wanted to do was lie down and rest.

At last they reached the path that led down to the Moonpool. Squirrelflight stared into the hollow in astonishment. Dusk was falling, and pricks of starlight were starting to appear on the still, silver water. “It’s beautiful!” she whispered.

Unlike in the old forest, apprentices no longer visited the medicine cats’ special place as part of their training. This was Squirrelflight’s first sight of the Moonpool, and Leafpool felt a flush of delight at her sister’s reaction. “Isn’t it?” she agreed. “Can you feel the marks in the path?”

Squirrelflight rubbed her paws over the dimpled stone and nodded.

“Those are the paw prints of all the cats who have come here before us,” Leafpool explained. “We are not the first cats to know of this special place.”

“Wow,” Squirrelflight breathed. “I feel so honored to be here.”

“I know what you mean,” meowed Leafpool. “Follow me. I need to lie at the water’s edge.” She padded down the spiral path with her sister close behind her. The stars sparkled more brightly in the pool as they approached. Leafpool sank with a grunt of relief onto the cold stone.

“What happens now?” Squirrelflight asked, sitting down and looking around.

“I will share tongues with StarClan in my sleep. You should sleep too, if you can. It’s a long walk home.”

Squirrel flight settled down, grumbling about the hardness of the ground. Gradually her breathing slowed. Leafpool nudged a little closer to soak up the warmth of her sister’s fur, then closed her eyes. She opened them to find Yellowfang standing over her. The old cat’s gray pelt was as ruffled as ever, and her breath rasped so loudly that it echoed off the walls of the hollow.

“Back again?” Yellowfang grunted.

Leafpool struggled to her paws. “Please help me, Yellowfang. Everything seems so dark. I can’t find a way out of this anywhere.”

The old cat sat down with a sigh. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Leafpool. If only you had thought about the consequences of what you were doing.”

“Well, I didn’t!” Leafpool flashed back. “I can say I’m sorry until the lake runs dry, but that won’t change a thing. Please help me decide what to do! There’s no one else I can ask!”

To her surprise, Yellowfang didn’t reply. Instead she leaned over and prodded Squirrelflight with one paw. Squirrelflight lifted her head blearily.

“Is it time to leave? I only just closed my eyes.” Her gaze fell on Yellowfang. “Oh! You’re from StarClan, aren’t you?”

Yellowfang twitched her ears, which glowed with starlight. “It would seem so. Do you know who I am?”

Squirrelflight put her head on one side. “I’d guess you are Yellowfang. I’ve heard many stories about you.” She studied the old cat’s matted, dusty pelt and her nose twitched. “I’d know you anywhere.”

“I am flattered,” Yellowfang commented dryly.

Squirrelflight stood up and looked from Yellowfang to Leafpool and back again. “Why am I here? Is there a way I can help Leafpool raise her kits?”

“Yes,” mewed Yellowfang. “You can take them and raise them as your own.”

Squirrelflight looked horrified. “What? How could I do that? I would have to lie to Firestar, to all my Clanmates, to Brambleclaw!”

The old medicine cat blinked. “If a lie is what it takes to save these kits, so be it.”

Squirrelflight paced in a tight circle. “Tm sorry. I just can’t see how I could do this. It’s too much.”

“I can’t make you do anything that you don’t want to,” Yellowfang rasped. “I understand why you don’t want such a huge responsibility—not that I could appreciate it, of course, being a medicine cat.”

Leafpool stiffened. So Yellowfang wasn’t going to tell Squirrelflight about her own terrible history?

“But I have watched you, Squirrelflight,” Yellowfang continued, her voice barely louder than the wind against the stone. “I know you would make an excellent mother.” Her cloudy yellow gaze drifted to the Moonpool, which was being whipped into little waves by the breeze. Her ears pricked, as if she had seen something in the water. She blinked, then turned back to Squirrelflight. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

Squirrelflight stared at her, huge-eyed. “Sorry about what?”

The old she-cat sighed. “I wish that the stars had not sent this message to me to pass on. But it is my duty. Squirrelflight, you will never have kits of your own.”

Leafpool gulped. What?

Her sister rocked backward on her haunches. “Are you sure? How can you possibly know that?”

“Are you questioning StarClan?” Yellowfang hissed. Then she let her fur lie flat again. “Leafpool is offering you your only chance to be a mother. And Brambleclaw will be a great father. One day he will be the leader of ThunderClan! He needs kits to follow in his paw steps, don’t you think?”

Leafpool held her breath. Squirrelflight stood up and walked to the edge of the Moonpool, where she gazed at the starlight rippling on the surface.

Yellowfang followed her. “I know how difficult this is to hear. Come and rest. You will see things more clearly when you wake up.” She guided Squirrelflight back to the warm patch of stone where she had been lying before. Squirrelflight curled up, as silent and obedient as a kit, and let Yellowfang soothe her to sleep with long, smooth licks across her head.

Leafpool waited until her sister was fast asleep, then stood up. “StarClan has never seen the future in the Moonpool before,” she meowed quietly. “Were you telling the truth?”

Yellowfang kept her gaze fixed on Squirrelflight’s head. “The truth is that Squirrelflight will make a far better mother for these kits than you will, Leafpool. That is the only thing which matters now.”

Leafpool tried to speak but a feathersoft darkness tugged at her, pulling her back into sleep. She lay down and let her eyes close as Yellowfang’s glowing shape faded away. When Leafpool woke, Squirrelflight was standing beside the Moonpool. Without looking around, she mewed, “Do you remember our dream?”

“Yes,” Leafpool whispered. Her legs were trembling. Was Squirrelflight really going to take these kits from her? If it meant they could stay in ThunderClan and she could watch them grow, while still serving as a medicine cat, perhaps it was the only answer.

Squirrelflight turned to face her, and her eyes were soft with sadness. “I love you, Leafpool, and I will keep my promise to help you. But I can’t lie to Brambleclaw for the rest of his life, nor to Firestar, Sandstorm and all our Clanmates. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this for you.”

“I don’t understand,” Jayfeather muttered. “Squirrelflight eventually agreed to take us in anyways. What was I supposed to learn from that?”

Molepaw stared at him. “You haven’t figured that part out yet?” He snorted.

Honeyfern glared at Yellowfang again. “There’s one part that’s unclear about that memory,” she said. “Yellowfang, tell him.”

But Jayfeather was starting to piece things together. Leafpool had asked if Yellowfang was telling the truth about what Yellowfang had told Squirrelflight, but the old medicine cat had avoided answering the question. He asked it for her again now. “What you told Squirrelflight," he meowed softly. “Was. It. True?”

“No.” Yellowfang’s reply was almost in audible.

“What!” Fury shot through him. Suddenly his anger at both the she-cats faded, redirected to the one he was now speaking to. “How could you do that her, to both of them?”

“It was the only way to convince Squirrelflight to raise you,” Yellowfang defended herself.

“Was it?” Jayfeather growled. “Because from what I saw, Squirrelflight wasn’t all that convinced by your lie. She didn’t want to lie to Brambleclaw or anyone else…she was willing to suffer without ever having kits. Surely there’s more.”

Honeyfern nodded. “There is. Yellowfang wasn’t the one to convince Squirrelflight–Feathertail was.”

“Feathertail?”

Molepaw answered now. “Even after you and your littermates were born, away from ThunderClan, Squirrelflight still didn’t want to raise you on a lie. She was ready to help in every way except that. But Feathertail came to see both of them and finally convinced her that it was what was best for you all.”

“She said that with Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight as parents, you would grow up safe and loved in ThunderClan,” Honeyfern added. “You wouldn’t have to face shame and exile and hatred.”

Jayfeather felt his anger fade to a single ember. “All this time I thought that Squirrelflight and Leafpool chose to tell their lies all on their own. But it turns out that they were manipulated by a cat they could trust and then decided to do what they did because their friend thought it was the only way. Why would you do this?”

“It was the only way,” Yellowfang protested.

“Because we’re the Three?” Jayfeather growled. “Would you have gone so far to protect kits who weren’t part of the prophecy?” Her silence was all the answer he needed. “I never thought StarClan was perfect, but at least I thought I could trust you, Yellowfang.”

Her eyes glimmered with guilt and sadness. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too late for that,” he spat. “If you truly cared about me and my littermates or about Leafpool and Squirrelflight, you would have told all of us the truth a long time ago. You’ve run out of time.” Already he could smell smoke creeping into his dream from the real world. “Next time this happens, tell the truth!”

Before Yellowfang could say anything else, Jayfeather was prodded awake by Cinderpelt, and he heard Dovewing’s panicked cry of “Fire!”

Chapter Text

“Fire! Wake up!’’ Fireheart yowled.

Frostfur stumbled out of the warriors’ den, her eyes wide with fear.

“We must leave the camp at once!” Fireheart ordered. “Tell Bluestar the forest is on fire!”

He ran to the elders’ den and called through the branches of the fallen oak, “Fire! Get out!” Then he raced to where the apprentices were clambering drowsily from their nests. “Leave the camp! Head for the river,” he called. Cloudpaw’s bewildered face stared at him, still dazed by sleep. “Head for the river!” Fireheart repeated urgently.

Frostfur was already helping Bluestar across the shadowy clearing. The leader’s face was a mixture of fear and determination as Frostfur nudged her forward with her nose.

“This way!” Fireheart yowled, beckoning with his tail before rushing to help the white she-cat guide Bluestar toward the entrance. Cats were streaming past on either side of them, their fur bristling.

Bluestar shook both of them off. “I can run on my own!”

The forest seemed to roar around them, and above the noise came a hideous two-tone wailing and the frantic barking of Twolegs as they crashed through the forest. Smoke was billowing thickly into the clearing now, and behind it the light of the fire grew ever brighter as it bore down on the camp.

“Head for the river,” Fireheart ordered. “Keep an eye on your denmates. Don’t lose sight of one another.” He felt an eerie calm within him, like a pool of icy water, while noise and heat and panic raged outside.

Fireheart darted back to round up Willowpelt’s kits as they struggled after their mother. She was carrying the smallest one in her mouth, her eyes stricken with fear above the bundle that bumped against her forelegs.

“Where’re Goldenflower and Cinderheart?” Fireheart demanded.

Willowpelt signaled with her nose, pointing up the ravine. Fireheart nodded, relieved that at least two queens and their kits were safely out of the camp. He called to Longtail, who was already halfway up the rocky slope. As the warrior scrambled down, Fireheart scooped up another of Willowpelt’s kits and passed it to Mousefur, who had raced up behind him. He picked up the third, and when Longtail reached his side he gave the kit to him. “Stay near Willowpelt!” he ordered, knowing that the queen would keep running only if she knew her kits were safe.

Fireheart stood at the bottom of the ravine and watched the cats scrambling upward. Clouds of smoke swirled across the sky, hiding Silverpelt from view. Was StarClan watching this? he wondered briefly. He lowered his eyes and saw Bluestar’s thick gray pelt reach the top, leading the other cats. Finally he followed, glancing over his shoulder as he scrambled upward to see fire stretching greedy orange tongues into the ravine, ripping through the bone-dry bracken toward the camp.

Fireheart scrambled onto the ridge. “Wait!” he called to the fleeing cats. They stopped and turned to face him. Smoke stung Fireheart’s eyes as he peered at his Clanmates through the choking clouds. “Is any cat missing?” he demanded, scanning the faces.

“Where are Halftail and Patchpelt?” Cloudpaw’s voice rose in a terrified mew.

Fireheart saw heads turning to look questioningly at one another, and Smallear answered, “They’re not with me.”

“They must still be in camp!” meowed Whitestorm.

“Where’s Bramblekit?” Goldenflower’s desperate wail rose through the trees above the noise of the fire. “He was behind me when I was climbing the ravine!”

“Ivypool and Hollykit aren’t here either!” Cinderheart exclaimed. Beside her, Lionblaze’s eyes were glazed with terror. Fireheart had never seen the golden warrior like this before. Why was he so afraid?

Fireheart’s mind reeled. This meant five of the Clan were missing. “I’ll find them,” he promised. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here any longer. Whitestorm and Darkstripe, make sure the rest of the Clan make it to the river.”

“You can’t go back down there!” Sandstorm protested, forcing her way through the cats to stand beside him. Her green eyes searched his desperately.

“I have to,” Fireheart replied.

“I’m coming too,” Sandstorm told him.

“No!” called Whitestorm. “We are short of warriors already. We need you to help get the Clan to the river.” Fireheart nodded in agreement.

“Then I’ll come!”

Fireheart stared in horror as Cinderpelt limped forward. “I’m no warrior,” she mewed. “I’d be no use anyway if we met an enemy patrol.”

“No way!” Fireheart spat. He could not let Cinderpelt risk her life. Then he saw the matted pelt of Yellowfang as she shouldered her way through the crowd.

“I may be old, but I’m steadier on my paws than you,” the old medicine cat told Cinderpelt. “The Clan will need your healing skills. I’ll go with Fireheart. You stay with the Clan.”

Cinderpelt opened her mouth, but Fireheart snapped, “There’s no time to argue. Yellowfang, come with me. The rest of you, head for the river.”

He turned before Cinderpelt could argue and began to pick his way back down the ravine into the smoke and heat below.

Patchpelt burst through the smoke, a look of horror in his eyes. “Ivypool is still in the camp!” he screeched.

“What is she doing there?” Fireheart demanded. “She’ll get herself killed!”

“Halftail got trapped,” Patchpelt exclaimed. “I tried to pull him out, but Ivypool told me to leave so she could get him instead!”

Yellowfang nodded. “We’d better hurry.”

Fireheart nodded to Patchpelt. “Can you keep going on your own?” When the elder nodded, he ordered, “Get to the river. That’s where the rest of the Clan is headed. Yellowfang and I will rescue the others.”

*  *  *  *  *

Ivypool’s eyes shot open when she heard her sister’s warning scream. Close by, Lionblaze awoke as well, immediately stiffening in terror. The rest of the warriors began to stir, moving slowly, as though they didn’t fully understand what was going on.

Fireheart shouted too, then tore from the den, followed by Frostfur. The other warriors didn’t move at first.

“Come on!” Ivypool yowled. She started shoving the other cats, relieved when they seemed to finally understand the situation and stream through the den’s entrance. But to her horror, Lionblaze stayed crouched, his eyes glazed and distant. He’s reliving what Ashfur did!

Dovewing burst into the den, instantly realizing what was going on. “Lionblaze, you to get up!” she snapped. “I know you’re scared but the Clan is leaving!” He seemed to gain some semblance of awareness, allowing Dovewing to boost him to his paws and guide him into the clearing.

With the den now empty, Ivypool followed. At this point, the camp was nearly deserted, but she heard a scuffling sound and saw Patchpelt trying to drag Halftail out of the camp.

She dashed over to him. “Let me!”

“But-”

“Go! Get out of here!” Ivypool ordered. “Find the rest of our Clanmates–I’ll get Halftail out.”

Patchpelt blinked, nodding, and turned, tearing out of the camp.

Ivypool fixed her teeth in Halftail’s scruff. Moving slowly and painstakingly, she managed to get him beyond the gorse tunnel. Once she reached the other side, she paused for a moment, coughing on the smoke that was starting to reach everywhere.

“Help!” Just as she started to keep going, she heard the scream.

Hollykit? How had the young cat been trapped in the camp? And what was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t save both Halftail and Hollykit. There wasn’t enough time.

“Help!” Hollykit screamed again. She sounded completely panicked. Ivypool wracked her mind, trying to figure out what to do.

Beneath her, Halftail stirred. “Save the kit,” he rasped.

“What?” Did the elder realize what he was asking her to do?”

“Kits are the future of the Clan,” he reminded her. “The code tells us to protect them.”

“I can’t just abandon you,” she murmured.

Halftail coughed. “I’m already dying.” He indicated a lump on his belly. “I wasn’t going to live much longer already, and now, thanks to the fire, it’s happening now.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivypool whispered. She buried her muzzle in his fur. I wanted to save you!

“Don’t be,” Halftail ordered. “I’m just grateful…I don’t have to die alone.” With those final words, he gave a shuddering gasp that shook his entire body. Then he fell still.

“Goodbye, Halftail,” Ivypool mewed. “May StarClan receive you with honor.”

She didn’t have time to process what had just happened, because Hollykit let out another desperate scream. “Someone, help!”

“I’m coming, Hollykit!” Ivypool yowled, charging back through the gorse tunnel. She burst into the camp, only to skid to a stop when she saw the little cat, who wasn’t alone.

Hollykit was crouched, her eyes wide with fear, as a massive paw pressed her to the earth. “Hello, Ivypool,” Brokenstar greeted her, his voice sickly sweet.

“Brokenstar!” Ivypool gasped. “How did you get here?”

“Did you really think StarClan were the only ones who could appear in the living world?” he asked her scornfully. “Those fools aren’t the only ones with power/”

“Leave Hollykit alone!” Ivypool ordered.

His mouth split in a massive grin. “Oh, of course,” he purred. “I was never here for the kit.”

“Then why were you here?”

“Haven’t you figured it out?” Brokenstar meowed. “I came for one of you time travelers. All of you have caused me far too much trouble. It was time for revenge.”

“It’s pathetic you had to die before you could even try to seek revenge.”

He shook his head. “Dying has only made me stronger. And you, well, you might not be able to die, but a cat I met told me that you can be hurt badly enough to leave you in a state between life and death.”

“And you think you can do that to me?” Ivypool hissed. “You’re welcome to try.”

Her challenge enraged him and he batted Hollykit to one side before lunging for Ivypool. He swung his powerful paws towards her throat, but she ducked. Bunching her hindquarters beneath herself, she pushed off the ground in a leap that slammed her into his stomach.

He gasped, stumbling backwards, and Ivypool pressed her advantage. Darting forward, she caught his forepaw in her jaws, biting down hard. He screeched, suddenly whipping his paw with such force that she was thrown several tail-lengths backward.

She crashed to the ground, winded, coughing uncontrollably as smoke filled her lungs. Brokenstar dove at her again, slashing his claws down one ear and biting her shoulder. Pain burst through her and she felt blood dripping from where his claws had struck her ear.

Furious, she clawed at his eyes, trying to force him away from her, but there was little strength in her attack. The smoke billowed around them in waves, making it hard to breathe.

Then another cat ran through the tunnel and cannoned into Brokenstar’s side. Taken off guard, he dropped to his paws, and the newcomer yanked Ivypool farther away from him.

“Leave her alone!” the new cat hissed.

Ivypool stared at her, disoriented, and realized the newcomer was a black she-cat with green eyes.

Hollykit was studying the new cat as well. “You look like me!” she squealed.

She’s right. Except for eye color and size, the two she-cats looked identical, which meant there was only one cat this could be. “Are you–?” Ivypool’s question broke off as she started coughing again.

“Hello, Cousin,” Hollyleaf confirmed, nodding.

Brokenstar seemed to recognize her as well. “Healer!” he spat. “How dare you interfere? This is warrior business!”

Hollyleaf glared at him. “I’m more of a warrior than you ever were!”

Without hesitating, she leapt into the air, twisting, and came down perfectly balanced on Brokenstar’s shoulders. He grunted, and Ivypool threw herself back into the fight, feeling adrenaline course through her, restoring her strength and dulling the pain. She slashed at his legs while Hollyleaf raked his back with her hind claws.

Brokenstar let out a furious yowl, sounding like something other than a cat. His eyes blazed, and he tried to aim a swipe at Ivypool. She jumped backwards, dodging it, and Hollyleaf slammed him down, forcing all his weight onto the single foreleg still on the ground. It broke with a snap, and he yowled again.

Unable to use the limb now, Brokenstar suddenly dropped to his back in an attempt to crush Hollyleaf beneath him. She jumped clear before he could do so, and Ivypool sliced at his ear, leaving a injury that matched the one he’d given her.

Glaring, Brokenstar reared up, batting her away. Hollyleaf reared up to meet him, swinging a fierce paw against his jaw. Brokenstar lost his balance, falling heavily to his side.

Before he could recover, Ivypool had darted around him, slicing deeply into his hind legs, severing his tendons.

“Grr-arrgh!” Brokenstar dropped to his belly, flanks heaving, panting with the agony.

“It’s over,” Ivypool hissed. She turned to Hollyleaf. “Get Hollykit out of here! She doesn’t need to see this.”

Ivypool stumbled, coughing deeply. Hollyleaf gave her a worried look. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be right behind you. Go!”

Without another word, Hollyleaf picked up Hollykit by the scruff and ran out of the camp. As soon as she was out of sight, Ivypool began to wheeze, struggling to keep her balance.

Brokenstar was leering at Ivypool. “Why did you send her away? You’re too hurt to leave now.”

“I know!” Ivypool growled weakly. “That’s why I made her leave.” She glared at the evil tom. “You should never have come here!”

“I will not be the last!” he snarled. “You weren’t the only ones to come back. When StarClan opened a door to the past, they should have been more careful about what came through.”

“We’ll defeat any evil that comes after us,” Ivypool warned him. “Unfortunately, you won’t be there to see it.”

With the last of her strength, she slashed her claws at his throat. Then she collapsed. She watched him struggle to survive, blood flowing from the fatal wound she’d given him. Brokenstar opened his mouth in a soundless wail and went limp, his body spasming, then lay very still. His outline wavered, as if Ivypool were seeing him underwater as well as through the smoke. Then she realized that she could see the flames behind him. Brokenstar grew paler and paler, his fur turning transparent until he was hardly a shadow on the floor of the clearing. Ivypool blinked, and he was gone. Only his blood remained, staining the burnt earth, but even that was fading now.

The fight was over. With the help of Hollyleaf, she’d destroyed Brokenstar for good. Lionblaze and Jayfeather would be so happy to know their sister was alive, and Cinderheart would be delighted to see her best friend again.

But she didn’t have any strength left. Trembling, she made one last effort to stay awake, but exhaustion and pain overwhelmed her. With a last smoke-suffocated breath, she let herself go limp. Then everything faded away.

*  *  *  *  *

Fireheart was terrified, but he forced himself to keep running when he reached the bottom of the ravine. He could hear Yellowfang gasping behind him. The smoke made every breath painful, even for his young lungs. Bright flames flickered just beyond the wall of the camp, tearing greedily at the carefully woven ferns, but they hadn’t reached the clearing yet. The gorse tunnel was nearest, and Fireheart struggled half-blind toward it. He could hear the crackling of flames as they licked at the far side of the fallen oak. The heat here was so intense, it felt as though the fire would burst into the camp at any moment.

Fireheart saw the shape of Halftail slumped unmoving a few fox-lengths away from the tunnel. The earth was scuffed around him, presumably from Ivypool’s attempts to drag him away.

Where is she?

Fireheart stopped in dismay, but Yellowfang had already rushed past him and began dragging Halftail’s body farther away from the tunnel.

“Don’t just stand there,” she growled through a mouthful of fur. “Get him out of here. I’ll find Ivypool.”

Fireheart grasped Halftail in his jaws and pulled him across the smoke-filled clearing and into the tunnel. He struggled not to cough as he tugged Halftail through the gorse, its sharp spines clutching at the old cat’s matted fur. Fireheart reached the bottom of the ravine and started to scramble upward. Halftail dangled, dead weight in his jaws, and Fireheart felt his body convulse as he retched in a series of violent spasms. Fireheart pushed on up the steep slope, his neck aching from the weight of the dead cat.

At the top he dragged Halftail onto the flat rocks, and the old tom lay there. Then Fireheart turned to look for Yellowfang. The medicine cat was just struggling out of the gorse tunnel, her flanks heaving as she fought against the deadly smoke. The trees that had sheltered the Clan were being swallowed up by fire, their trunks enveloped in flames. Fireheart saw Yellowfang stare up at him with Ivypool clutched in her jaws, her orange eyes huge. He flexed his hind legs, ready to jump down the rocks toward her, but a terrified mewling made him look up. Peering through the billowing smoke, he saw Goldenflower’s kit clinging to the branches of a small tree that sprouted from the side of the ravine. The bark of the tree was already smoldering, and as Bramblekit cried desperately, the trunk burst into flame.

Without stopping to think, Fireheart sprang at the blazing tree. He dug his claws into the trunk above the flames and hauled himself up to the kit. The fire raced up the trunk behind him, licking at the bark as Fireheart reached forward, wobbling, and lunged for the kit. The tiny tom was clinging to a branch, his eyes tightly shut and his mouth open wide in a silent scream. Fireheart grabbed him in his jaws and almost lost his balance as Bramblekit let go immediately and swung down into thin air. With his teeth still embedded in Bramblekit’s scruff, Fireheart managed to keep a grip on the rough bark. There was no way he could climb back down the trunk now. The flames had taken too strong a hold. He would have to go as far along the branch as he could, then jump down to the ground. Clenching his jaws, and blocking out Bramblekit’s screams, Fireheart crept away from the trunk.

The branch dipped and swayed under his weight, but Fireheart forced himself to keep going. One more pawstep and he tensed, ready to jump. Behind him flames scorched his pelt, filling his nostrils with the bitter smell of burning fur. The branch dipped again, this time with an ominous splintering sound. Star Clan help me! Fireheart prayed silently. Shutting his eyes, he flexed his hind legs and leaped toward the ground.

Behind him a loud crack split the air. Fireheart landed with a thud that almost knocked the breath out of him. Scrambling to find a clawhold on the side of the ravine, he twisted his head around. To his horror he saw that the fire had burned right through the trunk, sending the whole tree toppling into the ravine. Alive with flame, the tree crashed away from the terrified cat, hiding the entrance to the camp behind a wall of burning branches. There was no way Fireheart could reach Yellowfang now.

Chapter Text

“Yellowfang!”

Fireheart dropped Bramblekit and yowled the medicine cat’s name. The blood pounded in his ears as he listened for her reply, but he heard nothing except the dreadful crackling of the flames.

“Fireheart, you have to leave, now!” Hollyleaf burst into the open, Hollykit in her jaws.

The sight made Fireheart’s heart clench. Did the kit realize she was being carried by her namesake? “Healer?” he rasped.

“Brokenstar took Hollykit to use her as a hostage and force Ivypool into a fight,” Hollyleaf explained quickly. “I got there in time to help her, but she sent me away so Hollykit didn’t have to watch Brokenstar’s death.”

He examined the black-furred she-kit. She seemed fine, if shaky.

“Are you going to help me get them to safety?” asked

Bramblekit crouched at his paws, pressing his small body against Fireheart’s legs.

“You know I can’t go back with you,” Hollyleaf meowed regretfully. “But Surge and her kits will help you bring them back.”

“Surge? Your adopted daughter?”

Hollyleaf opened her mouth to correct him, but she closed it again and nodded. Three cats ran into view. Fireheart recognized Robin and Red, which meant the third cat must be Surge. The new she-cat was a mixture of light gray-and-ginger, with a white chest and patches. Her pale yellow eyes were urgent.

“Surge, Robin, and Red want to join ThunderClan if they are given permission,” Hollyleaf explain. “But first they will help you save your Clanmates.”

Pulsing with fear and frustration, and dimly aware of the pain from his singed flanks, Fireheart grabbed Bramblekit and raced up the slope back to Halftail.

The old tom’s fur rippled faintly in the wind. Fireheart lowered Bramblekit onto the ground. “Follow me!” he yowled before clamping his tired jaws onto Halftail’s scruff. With a final glance down the burning slope, Fireheart dragged the black-and-white tom away from the ravine into the trees. Bramblekit stumbled after them, too shocked to mew, his eyes huge and unfocused. Fireheart wished he were somehow able to carry both of them, but he couldn’t leave Halftail to be consumed by the fire where he lay. Thankfully, Surge scooped him up by the scruff, while Red, who was definitely the bigger of her kits, picked up Hollykit, stumbling a bit from her weight.

Fireheart followed the trail of the other cats blindly, hardly aware of the forest around him, even though he turned back every few moments to check that the others were still keeping up. His last sight of the ravine filled his mind, a terrifying trough of flame and smoke that engulfed the camp, his home. And of Yellowfang and Ivypool, there had been no sign at all.

They caught up with the rest of ThunderClan at Sunningrocks. Fireheart laid Halftail gently on the flat surface of the stone. Bramblekit raced straight to Goldenflower, who grasped him by his scruff and gave him a sharp, angry shake, choked by the purring that rose from her chest. Then she dropped him and began washing his smoke-stained fur with furious laps that softened to gentle strokes. The pale ginger queen glanced up at Fireheart, her eyes glistening with a gratitude she could not begin to put into words.

Hollykit ran to Cinderheart, who smiled at her in relief, doing the same as Goldenflower. Honeykit nosed at his sister, trying to get answers, until Lionblaze rested his tail on the kit’s shoulders and drew him gently away.

Fireheart blinked and looked away. It was beginning to dawn on him that Yellowfang might be lost because of the fire. He shook his head violently. He couldn’t think about that. His Clan needed him. He gazed around at the horror-struck cats that crouched on the smooth stones. Did they think they were safe here? They should have kept going to the river. Fireheart narrowed his eyes, trying to spot Sandstorm among the huddled shapes, but an infinite weariness made his legs feel heavier than stone, and he couldn’t find the strength to get up and look for her.

Cinderpelt hobbling stiffly out from the throng of cats. Fireheart watched as she pressed her paws heavily on Halftail’s chest, desperately trying to clear his lungs, but Fireheart knew this was futile already.

He lay still, and Cinderpelt looked up, her eyes brimming with sorrow. “He’s dead,” she murmured. Fireheart feared the pain would be more than she could bear, but as the other elders padded forward to share tongues with Patchpelt, the gray medicine cat sat up and raised her eyes to Fireheart. “We’ve lost another cat,” she whispered, her voice ringing hollow with disbelief. “But my grief won’t help the Clan.”

“You’re beginning to sound as strong as Yellowfang,” Fireheart told her softly.

Cinderpelt opened her eyes wide. “Yellowfang! Where is she?”

Fireheart felt a pain in his chest, so sharp it was as if a splinter from the burning tree had lodged in his heart. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I lost her in the smoke while she was rescuing Ivypool. I was going to go back, but the kits and Halftail. . .” His voice trailed away and he could only stare at the gray medicine cat as her eyes clouded with unimaginable pain. What was happening to their Clan? Did StarClan truly want to kill them all?

Bramblekit began coughing, and Cinderpelt roused herself, shaking her head as if emerging from icy water. Fireheart watched her hobble to the kit’s side and bend her head, vigorously licking his chest to stimulate his breathing. The coughing died away into a rhythmic wheezing that in turn eased as Cinderpelt worked. Cinderheart had already begun giving the same treatment to her daughter, somehow managing to do it in the same way as the medicine cat.

Bluestar padded up to him. “Who are these cats?” she asked, pointing her muzzle at Surge, Robin, and Red.

“They’re Healer’s kin,” he replied quietly. “They wanted to join us, since she can’t.”

“If they were willing to risk their lives to help you get the kits back here without knowing in advance whether or not they would be welcomed, then they have true warrior spirit inside them,” Bluestar decided. “They may stay.”

Nodding gratefully, Fireheart sat still and listened to the forest. He could feel his fur prickling in the sultry air. A breeze rustled through the trees, blowing from the direction of the camp. Fireheart opened his mouth, trying to distinguish fresh smoke from the stench of his singed fur. Was the fire still burning? Then he realized he could see the sky filling with clouds of smoke as the breeze drove the flames steadily toward Sunningrocks. His ears flattened as he heard the roaring of the fire rise above the soft murmuring of the leaves.

“It’s coming this way,” he yowled, his voice sore and harsh after breathing in the smoke. “We must keep going to the river. We’ll only be safe if we cross to the other side. The fire won’t reach us there.”

The cats looked up, startled, their eyes gleaming dimly through the night. The light from the fire was already shining through the trees. Clouds of smoke began to billow down onto Sunningrocks, and the sound of the flames grew louder, fanned by the rising wind.

Without warning the rocks and the forest were illuminated by a blinding flash. A thunderous crack exploded over the heads of the cats, making them flatten themselves against the rock. Fireheart lifted his eyes toward the sky. Behind the billowing smoke, he could see rain clouds rolling in overhead. Age-old terror mingled with relief as he realized that the storm had broken at last.

“Rain is coming!” he yowled, encouraging his cowering Clanmates. “It will put out the fire! But we must go now or we won’t outrun the flames!”

Brackenfur pushed himself up from the rock first. As understanding rippled through the rest of the Clan, the other cats stood up too. Their horror of the fire outweighed their instinctive fear of the raging skies. They shifted restlessly across the rock face, not sure which way to run, and to Fireheart’s relief he saw Sandstorm among them, her tail fluffed up and her ears flat back. The cats started to move farther apart, revealing Bluestar urging the cats on.

“This way!” Fireheart ordered. He signaled with his tail as another crash of thunder drowned out his voice.

The Clan began to stream down the rock toward the trail that led to the river. Fireheart could see the flames flickering between the trees now. A rabbit pelted past him, terrified. It didn’t even seem to notice the cats, weaving through them as it hurtled from the fire and the storm and slipped under the rock, instinctively seeking out the sanctuary of the ancient stone. But Fireheart knew that the flames would soon engulf this part of the forest, and he didn’t want to risk losing any more cats to such a terrible death.

“Hurry!” he called, and the cats broke into a run. Mousefur and Longtail were carrying Willowpelt’s kits once more, while Cloudpaw and Dustpelt dragged Halftail’s body between them, the limp brown shape jerking awkwardly over the ground. Whitestorm and Brindleface flanked Patchpelt, encouraging the ThunderClan elder onward with gentle nudges.

Fireheart was turning to look for Sandstorm when he saw Speckletail struggling with Snowkit grasped in her jaws. The kit was well grown and Speckletail was not as young as the other queens. Fireheart raced over and took the Snowkit from her. Speckletail flashed him a grateful look and started running.

The fire was beside them now that they had turned toward the river. Fireheart kept one eye on the advancing wall of flames as he urged the Clan onward. Around them the trees began to sway as the storm winds swelled and began to stir the burning forest, fanning the flames toward them. The river was in sight, but they still had to cross it, and few of the ThunderClan cats had done much swimming. There was no time to go farther downstream to the stepping-stones.

As they hurtled across the RiverClan scentline, Fireheart felt the heat of the fire against his flank and a cruel roaring that was even louder than the Thunderpath. He raced forward to lead the way down to the riverbank and skidded to a halt where the forest floor gave way to the pebbly shore. The smooth stones glowed silver as lightning flashed once more, but the thunder that followed was hardly audible above the roaring of the fire. The Clan stumbled after Fireheart, their eyes filled with a new terror as they stared at the fast-flowing river. Fireheart felt his spirit quail at the thought of persuading his water-shy Clanmates to enter the river. But behind them the fire tore through the trees in relentless pursuit, and he knew there was no choice.

Fireheart dropped Snowkit at Whitestorm ’s paws and turned to face the Clan. “It’s shallow enough to wade most of the way,” he yowled. “Much shallower than usual. There’s a place in the middle where you’ll have to swim, but you’ll make it.” The cats looked at him with horrified eyes. “You have to trust me!” he urged.

Whitestorm met Fireheart’s gaze for a long heartbeat, then nodded calmly. He picked up Snowkit and waded into the river until he stood up to his belly in the dark water. Then he turned and flicked his tail for the others to follow.

Fireheart felt a familiar scent in his nostrils, and a soft ginger pelt brushed against his shoulder. He looked down into Sandstorm’s bright green gaze.

“You think it’s safe?” she murmured, pointing with her nose to the fast- flowing river.

“Yes, I promise,” Fireheart replied, wishing with all his heart that they were somewhere else, far from this flame-threatened shore. He blinked slowly at the steadfast warrior beside him, trying to comfort her with his gaze when really he wanted to bury his muzzle in her fur and hide until this nightmare was over.

Sandstorm nodded as if she could read his mind. “I trust you,” she murmured. Then she raced through the shallows and plunged into the deep central channel just as lightning lit up the rippling water. Fireheart’s chest tightened as the she-cat lost her footing on the pebbles and disappeared under the surface. He felt his heart stop beating and his ears roar like thunder as he waited for her to reappear.

Then Sandstorm bobbed up, coughing and thrashing with her paws, but swimming steadily toward the far shore. She struggled out on the other side, her coat dark with water and clinging to her body, and called to her Clanmates, “Just keep your paws moving and you’ll be okay!”

Fireheart’s chest ached with pride. He stared at the lithe shape, silhouetted against the trees on the other shore, and could hardly stop himself from leaping into the water and swimming to her side. But he had to see the rest of the Clan across first, and he forced himself to watch his Clanmates as they began to plunge headlong into the river.

Dustpelt and Cloudpaw dragged Halftail’s body to the water’s edge. Dustpelt looked down at it, then gazed across the river, his expression bleak at the impossibility of carrying the dead cat to the other side when it would be difficult enough to swim alone.

Fireheart padded to the warrior’s side. “Leave him here,” he murmured, even though the prospect of leaving another cat behind tore at his heart. “We can come back and bury him when the fire has passed.”

Dustpelt nodded and waded into the river with Cloudpaw. The apprentice was almost unrecognizable under the smoke stains, and Fireheart touched his nose to the young cat’s flank as he passed, hoping Cloudpaw could sense how proud his mentor was of his quiet courage.

When Fireheart lifted his head he saw Smallear hesitating at the river’s edge. On the far side, Sandstorm was standing belly-deep in water, helping the cats as they struggled to the shore. She called encouragingly to the old gray tom, but Smallear backed away as another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Fireheart dashed toward the trembling elder, grabbed him by the scruff, and plunged into the river. Smallear wailed and floundered as Fireheart struggled to keep his head above the surface. The water felt icy after the heat of the flames, and Fireheart found himself gasping for breath, but he plowed on, trying to remember how easily Graystripe had swum this same channel.

Suddenly a swift current dragged him and Smallear off course. Fireheart flailed with his paws, feeling panic rise in his chest as he saw the gently sloping bank slip past and a steep wall of mud loom in its place. How would he climb out here, especially with Smallear? The elderly tom had stopped struggling now, and hung like a deadweight in Fireheart’s jaws. Only his rasping breaths in Fireheart’s ears showed that he was still alive, and might yet survive the crossing. Fireheart floundered in the water, trying to fight the current and keep Smallear’s muzzle above the water.

Without warning, a mottled head reached down from the bank and grabbed Smallear from him. It was Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy! Scrabbling in the mud for a pawhold, she dragged Smallear out, dropped him on the ground, and reached down again for Fireheart. He felt her teeth sharp in his scruff as she hauled him up the slippery bank. He felt a wave of relief as his paws sank into dry ground.

“Is that everyone?” Leopardfur demanded.

Fireheart looked around him. RiverClan cats were weaving among the ThunderClan cats as they crouched, drenched and shocked on the pebbles. Graystripe was one of them.

“I — I think so,” Fireheart stammered. He could see Patchpelt lying under some trailing willow branches. He looked small and frail with his soaked fur flattened against his scrawny flanks. Bluestar was leaning over him, gently rasping her tongue across his pelt.

“What about that one?” Leopardfur pointed with her nose to the unmoving brown shape on the far shore.

Fireheart turned to look. The ferns on the other side were burning now, sending sparks flying into the river and illuminating the trees with flickering light. “He’s dead,” Fireheart whispered.

Without a word Leopardfur slipped into the river and swam to the other side. With her golden fur flickering in the light from the flames, she snatched up Halftail’s body and paddled strongly back, her front paws churning through the black water. A clap of thunder exploded overhead, making Fireheart flinch, but the RiverClan deputy didn’t stop swimming.

“Fireheart!” Graystripe raced over to Fireheart and pressed himself against his friend, his flank warm and soft against Fireheart’s drenched body. “Are you okay?”

Fireheart nodded, dazed, as Leopardfur hauled Halftail’s body onto the shore. She laid it at Fireheart’s paws and meowed, “Come on. We’ll bury him back at camp.”

“The. . .the RiverClan camp?”

“Unless you prefer to return to your own,” answered Leopardfur coldly. She turned and led the way up the slope, away from the river and the flames. As the ThunderClan cats heaved themselves to their paws and began to follow, heavy drops of rain began to fall through the canopy above. Fireheart twitched his ear. Had the rain come soon enough for the burning forest? More exhausted than he could ever remember being, he watched Graystripe lift Halftail’s drenched body easily in his strong jaws. The rain began to fall more heavily, pounding the forest as Fireheart fell in behind the other cats, his paws stumbling over the smooth pebbles.

The RiverClan deputy led the blackened, bedraggled group through the reed beds beside the bank, until an island appeared ahead. In any other season it would have been surrounded by water; now the path merely glistened in the fresh rainfall.

Fireheart recognized this place. It had been ringed by ice the first time he had been here. Reeds had poked sharply through the frozen water then; now they swayed in great swathes, and silvery willow trees grew among the rustling stems. The rain cascaded down their delicate, trailing branches onto the sandy ground below.

Leopardfur followed a narrow passage through the rushes and onto the island. There was a lingering smell of smoke here, but the roar of the flames had faded, and Fireheart could hear the merciful sound of raindrops splashing down into the water beyond the reeds.

Crookedstar stood in a clearing in the center of the island, his fur bristling on his shoulders. Fireheart noticed the RiverClan leader glance suspiciously at Graystripe as the ThunderClan cats limped into the camp, but Leopardfur padded over to the light brown tabby and explained, “They were fleeing the fire.”

“Is RiverClan safe?” asked Crookedstar at once.

“The fire won’t cross the river,” replied Leopardfur. “Especially now that the wind has changed.”

Fireheart sniffed the air. Leopardfur was right; the wind had changed. The storm had been carried in on a wind much fresher than any he had smelled for a while. It rippled through his sodden fur, and Fireheart felt his mind begin to clear. Water dripped from his whiskers as he swung his head around to see where Bluestar was. He knew she should greet Crookedstar formally, but she was moving among her Clan, her voice low and her eyes bright as she murmured reassurances to her cats.

Fireheart felt his belly clench with pride. ThunderClan was lucky to have such a kind and compassionate leader who was not afraid to let RiverClan know the kind their leader was. He quickly stepped forward in her place. “Leopardfur and her patrol showed great kindness and courage in helping us flee the fire,” he meowed to Crookedstar, dipping his head low. Above him lightning still flickered across the cloudy sky and thunder rumbled in the distance, rolling away from the forest.

“Leopardfur was right to help you. All the Clans fear fire,” replied the RiverClan leader.

“Our camp was burned and our territory is still on fire,” Fireheart went on, blinking away the rain that streamed into his eyes. “We have nowhere to go.” He knew he had no choice but to throw himself on the mercy of the RiverClan leader.

Crookedstar narrowed his eyes and paused. Fireheart felt his paws grow hot with frustration. Surely the RiverClan leader didn’t think this wretched group of cats posed any threat? Then Crookedstar spoke. “You may stay until it is safe for you to return.”

Relief flowed through Fireheart. “Thank you,” he meowed, blinking gratefully.

“Would you like us to bury your elder?” offered Leopardfur.

“You are very generous, but Halftail should be buried by his own Clan,” Fireheart answered. It was sad enough that the old warrior would not be laid to rest in his own territory, and Fireheart knew that his denmates would want to send him on his final journey to StarClan.

“Very well,” meowed Leopardfur. “I’ll have his body moved outside the camp so that your elders may sit vigil with him in peace.” Fireheart nodded his thanks as Leopardfur went on: “I’ll ask Mudfur to help your medicine cat.” The mottled she-cat scanned the drenched and shivering cats. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze fell on the Patchpelt’s huddled shape. “Is your elder injured?”

“The smoke was very bad,” Fireheart replied carefully. “He was among the last to leave the camp and stayed there longer trying to save Halftail. He only left because Ivypool took over instead. Excuse me, I must see to my Clan.” He stood up and padded over to where Cloudpaw and Smallear sat, side by side. “Are you fit enough to bury Halftail?” he asked.

“I am,” meowed Cloudpaw. “But I think Smallear is — ”

“I’m well enough to bury an old denmate,” rasped Smallear, his voice scratched by smoke.

Patchpelt brightened a little. “I will help bury him as well. I couldn’t save him, but I can at least do this.”

“I’ll ask Dustpelt to help you,” Fireheart told them.

A brown tom was following Cinderpelt and Jayfeather among the ThunderClan cats. He carried a bundle of herbs in his mouth, which he placed on the damp ground when Cinderpelt paused beside Willowpelt and her kits. The tiny cats were wailing pitifully, but refused to drink when Willowpelt pressed them to her belly.

Fireheart hurried over. “Are they okay?”

Cinderpelt nodded. “Mudfur suggested we give them honey to soothe their throats. They’ll be fine, but it’s done them no good to breathe in the smoke.”

The brown cat at her side meowed to Willowpelt, “Do you think they could manage a little honey?” The gray queen nodded and watched gratefully as the RiverClan medicine cat held out a wad of moss dripping with sticky, golden liquid. She purred as her tiny kits licked at it, first tentatively, then greedily as the soothing sweetness entered their mouths.

Fireheart padded away. Cinderpelt had everything under control. He found a sheltered corner at the edge of the clearing and sat down to wash. His singed pelt tasted foul as he brushed his tongue along it. His body ached with tiredness but he carried on licking. He wanted to wash away all trace of the smoke before he rested.

When he had finished, he glanced around the camp. The RiverClan cats had fled the rain into their dens, leaving the ThunderClan cats to huddle in groups at the edge of the clearing beneath the whispering wall of reeds, seeking any protection from the pounding rain. Fireheart was aware of the dark shape of Graystripe moving among his former Clanmates, soothing them with his gentle mew. Cinderpelt had finished tending to the cats and was curled up, exhausted, beside Ashpaw. Fireheart could just make out Sandstorm’s pale ginger flank, rising and falling steadily next to Longtail’s silver tabby back. Bluestar was asleep beside Whitestorm.

He could see Cinderheart speaking softly to Lionblaze, while their kits slept in an exhausted pile.

“How are you doing?” Fireheart asked Lionblaze, concerned. “I know this couldn’t have been easy for you.”

Lionblaze shook his head. “I could barely think. I was so terrified of the fire that I didn’t even realize our daughter was missing.”

“It’s not your fault,” Cinderheart murmured at once. “What Ashfur did to you is something no cat should ever have to go through. And Ivypool saved Patchpelt and Hollykit.”

“But now she’s trapped in the camp with Yellowfang.” Lionblaze’s voice was grim. “And we both know that Yellowfang is going to die from this–what will it do to a cat who’s immortal?”

Fireheart knew the answer to that question. Hollyleaf had told him how immortal cats could end up in comas if they were badly enough injured. That was most likely what would happen to Ivypool. And Yellowfang…Yellowfang was going to die. He’d already guessed that, but it was almost worse knowing with absolute certainty. Would she survive long enough for him to find her. Did he want that? It would be extremely painful if she did survive.

Fireheart rested his muzzle on his forepaws, listening to the beating of the rain on the muddy clearing.

Surge was speaking with Goldenflower, but Robin and Red came to curl up beside him. The young cats had grown since he’d last seen them, and he could tell they would make excellent apprentices.

As his eyes closed, the unbearable image of Yellowfang’s terrified face burst into his mind. His heart began to pound, but exhaustion took over and he finally retreated into the refuge of sleep.

Fireheart felt as if he had slept for only a moment when he woke. A cool breeze was ruffling his fur. The rain had stopped. Above, the sky was filled with billowing white clouds. For a moment he felt confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he became aware of the sound of voices meowing nearby and recognized Smallear’s trembling mew.

“I told you StarClan would show its anger!” rasped the old tom. “Our home has gone; the forest is no more.”

“Bluestar should have appointed a Clanborn deputy,” fretted Speckletail. “It’s the custom!”

Fireheart leaped to his paws, his ears burning, but before he could say anything, Cinderpelt’s mew rose into the air.

“How can you be so ungrateful? Fireheart carried you across the river, Smallear!”

“He nearly drowned me,” complained Smallear.

“You’d be dead if he’d left you behind,” spat Cinderpelt. “If Fireheart hadn’t woken everyone after Dovewing smelled the smoke, we might all be dead!”

“I’m sure Ivypool, Halftail, and Yellowfang are deeply grateful to him.”

Fireheart’s fur rippled with anger as he heard Darkstripe’s sarcastic yowl.

“Yellowfang will thank him herself when we find her!” hissed Cinderpelt.

“Find her?” echoed Darkstripe. “There’s no way she’ll have escaped that fire. Fireheart should never have allowed her to go back to the camp.”

Cinderpelt growled deep in her throat. Darkstripe had gone too far. Fireheart padded quickly from the shadows and saw Ashpaw sitting beside Darkstripe, staring up at the warrior with horror in his eyes.

Fireheart opened his mouth, but it was Dustpelt who spoke first. “Darkstripe! You should show more respect for your lost Clanmates, and” — he glanced sympathetically at his frightened apprentice — “be more careful with what you say. Our Clanmates have suffered enough already!”

Fireheart was taken aback to hear the young warrior challenge his former mentor.

Darkstripe eyed Dustpelt with equal surprise, than narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“Dustpelt’s right,” Fireheart meowed quietly, stepping forward. “We shouldn’t be arguing.”

Darkstripe, Smallear, and the others whipped around to stare at Fireheart, their ears and tails flicking awkwardly as they realized he had heard their conversation.

“Fireheart!” Graystripe’s mew interrupted them, and Fireheart saw his friend crossing the clearing, his fur damp from the river.

“Have you been on patrol?” Fireheart asked, turning away from the ThunderClan cats and padding over to meet Graystripe.

“Yes. And hunting,” meowed Graystripe. “We can’t all sleep the morning away, you know.” He nudged Fireheart on the shoulder and went on: “You must be hungry. Come with me.” He led Fireheart toward a pile of fresh-kill at the edge of the clearing. “Leopardfur says this is for your Clan,” Graystripe told him.

Fireheart’s belly growled with hunger. “Thanks,” he meowed. “I’d better let the Clan know.” He went over to where the ThunderClan cats were gathered. “Graystripe says that pile of food is for us,” he announced.

“Thank StarClan,” Goldenflower meowed gratefully.

“We don’t need other Clans to feed us,” sneered Darkstripe.

“I suppose you can go hunting if you want,” Fireheart meowed, narrowing his eyes at the tabby warrior. “But you’ll need to ask Crookedstar’s permission first. After all, this is his territory.”

Darkstripe snorted impatiently and padded toward the fresh-kill pile. Fireheart looked at Bluestar. She studied the prey there.

“Make sure the kits, elders, and queens are fed first,” Bluestar ordered. “Then the apprentices and warriors. I will eat last.”

Whitestorm twitched his ears. “I’ll make sure everyone gets a share,” he promised, glancing at Bluestar.

“Thanks,” Fireheart answered.

Graystripe padded up and dropped a mouse on the ground at his paws. “Here, you can eat this at the nursery,” he meowed. “There are some kits I want you to see.”

Fireheart picked up the mouse and followed his friend toward a tangle of reeds. As they approached, two silver bundles hurtled through a tiny gap in the thickly woven stems and rushed toward Graystripe. They flung themselves at him, and Graystripe rolled over happily, batting with gentle sheathed paws as the kits climbed over him. Fireheart knew at once whose kits they were.

Graystripe purred loudly. “How did you know I was coming?” he rumbled.

“We smelled you!” answered the larger kit.

“Very good!” Graystripe praised him.

As Fireheart finished the last mouthful of mouse, the gray warrior sat up and the kits tumbled off him. “Now it’s time you met an old friend of mine,” he told them. “We trained together.”

The kits turned their amber eyes on Fireheart, staring up at him in awe.

“Is this Fireheart?” mewed the smallest one. Graystripe nodded, and Fireheart felt a glow of pleasure that his friend had spoken about him already to his kits.

“Come back here, you two!” A silver face appeared in the entrance of the nursery. “It’s going to rain again.” Fireheart saw the eyes of the kits narrow crossly, but they turned and padded obediently toward the den.

“They’re great,” he purred.

“Yeah,” Graystripe agreed, his eyes soft. “More thanks to Mosspelt and Silverstream than me, I have to say. They’re the ones who look after them.” Fireheart heard a note of wistfulness in his friend’s voice, and wondered just how much Graystripe missed his old home.

“How is Silverstream?” Fireheart asked, carefully avoiding the subject of ThunderClan.

Graystripe smiled. “She’s grateful to be alive,” he meowed seriously. “But she loves being a mother and sometimes Mosspelt and Mistyfoot will watch watch our kits so we can go hunting together.”

“That’s great!” Fireheart meowed, though he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Graystripe got on better with the queens in his new Clan than the other warriors.

Neither cat spoke as the gray warrior got to his paws and led Fireheart out of the camp. They sat down on a small patch of bare earth among the reeds. A willow tree arched above their heads, its branches quivering in the fresh breeze. Fireheart felt the wind tug at his fur as he stared through the willow curtain toward the distant woods. It looked as if StarClan was going to send more rain to the forest.

“Where’s Yellowfang?” asked Graystripe.

Fresh grief welled up in Fireheart’ s chest. “Yellowfang came back to the ThunderClan camp with me to look for Patchpelt, Halftail, and Ivypool. I lost her in the smoke. A. . .a tree fell into the ravine as she was coming out.” Was there any way she could have survived the flames? He couldn’t help a flare of hope bursting in his chest, like a trapped pigeon frantically stretching its wings. “I don’t suppose you found any scent of her on your patrol?”

Graystripe shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you think the fire’s still burning after that storm?” meowed Fireheart.

“I’m not sure. We saw a few plumes of smoke while we were out.”

Fireheart sighed. “Do you think any of the camp will be left?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” answered Graystripe. He lifted his head and stared through the leaves at the darkening skies. “Silverstream was right — more rain’s coming.” As he spoke, a large drop landed on the ground beside them. “That should put out the last of the flames.”

Fireheart felt his head spin with grief as more drops spattered through the trees and splashed on the brittle reeds. Before long, the rain was pouring down for the second time, and it seemed that StarClan was weeping for all that had been lost.

Chapter Text

By late afternoon the lingering smell of smoke had been replaced by the stench of wet ash, but Fireheart relished its bitter odor.

“The fire must be out by now,” he meowed to Graystripe, who was sheltering beside him beneath a clump of reeds. “We could go back and see if it’s safe for the Clan to return.”

“And look for Yellowfang and Ivypool,” Graystripe murmured.

Fireheart had known that his old friend would guess why he really wanted to go back to the camp. He blinked at the gray warrior, grateful for his understanding.

“I’ll have to ask Crookedstar if I can come,” Graystripe added. The words came as a shock to Fireheart. He had almost forgotten that Graystripe belonged to another Clan now.

“I’ll be back soon,” called the gray warrior, already bounding away.

Fireheart gazed across the clearing to where Bluestar was weaving her way through her cats, her eyes bright as though she were trying to help them forget the horrific fate that had befallen her Clan. Fireheart wondered if he should tell her where he was going. He decided not to. For the moment he would act alone and trust that his Clan would be all right without him.

“Fireheart.” Cloudpaw was heading toward him. “Do you think the fire is out?”

“Graystripe and I are going to check,” Fireheart told him.

“Can I come?”

Fireheart shook his head. He didn’t know what they would find at the ThunderClan camp. Uncomfortably he also realized that he was afraid Cloudpaw would take one look at his ruined forest home and be tempted back into the cozy life of a kittypet.

“I’d do everything you told me,” Cloudpaw promised earnestly.

“Then stay and help take care of your Clan,” Fireheart meowed. “Bluestar needs you here.”

Cloudpaw hid his disappointment by lowering his head. “Yes, Fireheart,” he mewed.

“Tell Bluestar and Whitestorm where I’m going,” Fireheart added. “I’ll be back by moonrise.”

“Okay.”

Fireheart watched the white apprentice pad back toward the other cats, praying that Cloudpaw would follow his orders for once and stay in the RiverClan camp.

Graystripe returned with Crookedstar at his side. The pale tabby’s amber eyes were narrowed inquiringly. “Graystripe tells me that he wants to travel with you to your camp,” he meowed. “Can’t you take one of your own warriors?”

“We lost two Clanmates in the fire,” Fireheart explained, getting to his paws. “I don’t want to find them by myself.”

The RiverClan leader seemed to understand. “If they have not survived, you’ll need the comfort of an old friend,” he meowed gently. “Graystripe may go with you.”

“Thank you, Crookedstar,” replied Fireheart, dipping his head.

Graystripe led the way to the river. On the other side of the swiftly flowing water, the forest was blackened and charred. The tallest trees had managed to retain a few of their leaves, which fluttered bravely at the tips of their highest branches. But it was a small victory when the rest of their branches were black and stripped bare. StarClan may have sent the storm to put out the fire, but it had come too late to save the forest.

Graystripe slipped into the river without speaking and swam across. Fireheart followed him, struggling to keep up with his strongly paddling friend. As they climbed onto the bank at the other side, the two cats could only stare in horror at the remains of their beloved woodland.

“Seeing this place from across the river was the only comfort I had,” murmured Graystripe.

Fireheart glanced at his friend with a pang of sympathy. It sounded as if Graystripe were even more homesick than he had thought. But he didn’t have a chance to ask any questions before Graystripe charged up the shore toward the ThunderClan border. The gray warrior crossed it eagerly, pausing to add his own scent mark. Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if his old friend was thinking of RiverClan boundaries — or ThunderClan.

Despite the devastation Graystripe seemed to relish being back in his old territory. As Fireheart pushed on to the camp, Graystripe wove back and forth behind him, sniffing intently before catching up with his friend. Fireheart was amazed that he could recognize anything. The forest was changed beyond belief, the undergrowth burned away, the air empty of the scent or sound of prey. The ground felt sticky underpaw where rain and ash had mingled to make black, acrid-smelling mud that clung to their fur. Fireheart shivered as raindrops splashed onto his wet pelt. The sound of a single, brave bird singing in the distance made his heart ache for everything that had been lost.

At last they reached the top of the ravine. The camp was clearly visible, stripped of its protective canopy, the hard earth gleaming like black stone in the rain. Only the Highrock was unchanged by the fire, apart from a slick of sticky black ash.

Fireheart rushed down the slope, sending grit and ash crumbling ahead of him. The tree where he had saved Goldenflower’s kit was nothing but a heap of charred sticks now, and he leaped over them easily. He searched for the gorse tunnel that had once led to the clearing, but only a tangle of blackened stems remained. He picked his way through and hurried into the smoke-stained clearing.

As he stared around, his heart pounding, he felt Graystripe nudge him. He followed the gray warrior’s gaze to where Ivypool’s scorched body lay at what used to be the entrance to Yellowfang’s fern tunnel. The medicine cat must have tried to get the unconscious warrior back into the safety of the camp, hoping perhaps that the cracked rock where she had made her den would protect them from the flames.

Fireheart started toward the burned shape, but Graystripe meowed, “I’ll take Ivypool out of camp. You look for Yellowfang.” He picked up the limp brown body and started to drag it out of the camp toward the burial place.

Fireheart watched him go, his heart frozen with dread. He knew this was why he had come back to the camp, but his legs suddenly felt too weak to move. He forced himself to walk over to the burned stumps that lined the path to Yellowfang’s clearing. There was no sheltering green tunnel now. The medicine cat’s home was open to the sky, and the only sound was the relentless patter of raindrops on the slimy ground.

“Yellowfang!” he called, his voice hoarse, as he padded into the clearing.

The rock where the medicine cat had made her den was black with soot, but, mingled with the smell of ash, Fireheart detected the familiar scent of the old medicine cat. “Yellowfang?” he called again.

A low, rasping mew answered him from inside the rock. She was alive! Shaking with relief, Fireheart squeezed into the shadowy cave.

There was barely light enough to see. Fireheart had never been in here before, and he paused for a moment, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. At the foot of one wall was a row of herbs and berries, stained by smoke but unburned. Then he glimpsed a pair of eyes shining at him from the far end of the narrow cavern.

“Yellowfang!” Fireheart rushed to the medicine cat’s side. She lay with her legs crumpled beneath her, soot-covered and wheezing, too weak to move. She could barely hold his gaze, and when she spoke her voice was breathless and feeble.

“Fireheart,” she croaked. “I’m glad it’s you who came.”

“I shouldn’t have left you here.” Fireheart pressed his muzzle against her matted fur. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you save Patchpelt?”

Fireheart nodded. “He made it to the rest of the Clan on his own.”

“Ivypool is alive too,” rasped Yellowfang.

Fireheart saw her eyelids quiver and begin to close, and he meowed desperately, “We saved two kits!”

“Which ones were they?” Yellowfang murmured.

“Bramblekit and Hollykit.” He watched as Yellowfang closed her eyes briefly, and his blood ran cold. Now Yellowfang knew that he had risked her life to save the kits’.

“You’re a brave warrior, Fireheart.” Yellowfang suddenly opened her eyes wide and stared fiercely at him. “I could not be prouder of you if you were my own son. And StarClan knows how many times I have wished that you were, instead of” — she drew a shallow, grating breath, and Fireheart knew every word stuck thorn-sharp in her throat — “Brokentail.”

Fireheart flinched as the old medicine cat revealed her terrible secret: that ShadowClan’s brutal leader had been her son, given up at birth because medicine cats were not allowed to have children. Who knew what agonies Yellowfang had endured as she watched her son kill his own father to become leader, and then destroy her Clan with his bloodthirsty ambitions?

And how could Fireheart tell her that he already knew this? That he had understood that the reason she had wanted to give Brokentail sanctuary in her adopted Clan was because she wanted one last chance to take care of the son she had given up? He leaned forward and licked her ears, hoping to soothe her, but she went on.

“I killed him. I poisoned him. I wanted him to die.” Her rasping admission collapsed into painful coughing.

“Hush. Save your strength,” Fireheart urged. He knew this, too. He had watched, hidden, as she fed Brokentail the poisonous berries after the traitorous cat helped Tigerclaw’s rogues attack ThunderClan. He had witnessed the cruel warrior die at his mother’s paws, and he had heard Yellowfang give away her real relationship with the heartless tom, while the ShadowClan warrior Clawface had watched it all in silence. “Let me fetch you some water,” he offered.

But Yellowfang shook her head slowly. “Water’s no use to me now,” she croaked. “I want to tell you everything before I — ”

“You’re not going to die!” Fireheart gasped, feeling a shard of ice pierce his heart. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“Don’t waste your time.” Yellowfang coughed angrily. “I’m going to die whatever you do, but I’m not afraid. Just listen to me.”

Fireheart wanted to beg her to be silent, to save her breath so that she could live a few moments longer, but he respected her enough to obey her even now.

“I wish you’d been my son, but I could not have borne a cat like you. StarClan gave me Brokentail to teach me a lesson.”

“What did you need to learn?” Fireheart protested. “You are as wise as Bluestar herself.”

“I killed my own son.”

“He deserved it!”

“But I was his mother,” whispered Yellowfang. “StarClan may judge me how they will. I am ready.”

Unable to answer, Fireheart dipped his head and began frantically licking her fur, as if his love for this old she-cat were enough to hold her in the forest for a while longer.

“Fireheart,” Yellowfang murmured.

Fireheart paused. “Yes?”

“Thank you for bringing me to ThunderClan. Tell Bluestar I have always been grateful for the home she gave me. This is a good place to die. I only regret that I will miss watching you become what StarClan has destined you to be.” The old medicine cat’s voice trailed away, and her flanks heaved with the effort of sucking air into her smoke-scorched lungs.

“Yellowfang,” Fireheart pleaded. “Don’t die!” Her painful breathing clawed at his heart, and he realized there was nothing he could do. “Don’t be afraid of StarClan.

They will understand about Brokentail,” he promised wretchedly. “You will be honored by our warrior ancestors for your loyalty to your Clanmates and for your endless courage. So many cats owe their lives to you. Cinderpelt would have died after her accident if you had not tended to her. And when there was greencough, you fought day and night. . .”

Fireheart could not stop the words from tumbling out even though he knew the old medicine cat’s breathing had faded into everlasting silence. Yellowfang was dead.

With a tender lick, Fireheart closed the medicine cat’s eyes for the last time. Then he lowered his head onto her shoulder and felt the warmth fade from her body.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, listening to his heart beating alone in the shadowy cavern. He thought for a moment he caught the familiar scent of Spottedleaf, drifting into the den on the rain-chilled breeze. Had she come to guide Yellowfang to StarClan? Fireheart let the soothing thought flow through him and felt sleep swell like clouds at the edges of his mind.

“She will be safe with us.” Spottedleaf’s gentle mew ruffled his ear fur, and Fireheart lifted his head and looked around.

“Fireheart?” Graystripe called from the entrance. Fireheart struggled to sit up.

“I’ve taken Ivypool from the camp,” the gray warrior meowed. “She’s not dead, but she’s in bad shape. She has wounds, bites and scratch marks that couldn’t have come from the fire.”

“Yellowfang’ s dead,” Fireheart whispered. His hollow mew echoed off the stone walls. “She was alive when I found her, but she died.”

“Did she say anything?”

Fireheart closed his eyes. He would never share Yellowfang’s tragic secret with any cat, not even his oldest friend. “Just that. . .she was thankful Bluestar let her live in ThunderClan.”

Graystripe padded into the cave and bent his head to lick the old medicine cat’s cheek. “When I left, I never thought I wouldn’t speak to her again,” he murmured, his voice thick with sorrow. “Shall we bury her?”

“No,” Fireheart meowed firmly, his mind suddenly clear. Spottedleaf s words echoed in his mind: She ’ll be safe with us. “She was a warrior as well as a medicine cat. She will have her vigil and we can bury her at dawn.”

“But we must get back to the RiverClan camp and tell the others what has happened,” Graystripe reminded him.

“Then I’ll come back tonight and sit vigil with her,” Fireheart replied.

The two friends trekked back through the devastated forest in silence. They worked together to carry Ivypool, draping her across their backs. The gray afternoon light was fading by the time they padded into the RiverClan camp. Groups of cats lay at the edge of the clearing, sharing tongues after their evening meal. The ThunderClan cats crouched in an isolated huddle at one side. As soon as Fireheart and Graystripe appeared, Cinderpelt struggled to her paws and limped toward them.

Bluestar rose too from where she lay beside Whitestorm. She brushed past Cinderpelt and reached the returning warriors first, her eyes filled with hope. “Did you find Yellowfang and Ivypool?”

Fireheart saw Cinderpelt hanging back, her ears pricked, as desperate for news as her Clan leader. “Yellowfang is dead,” he told them. Fresh pain filled his heart when he saw Cinderpelt sway on her paws. The little cat backed away unsteadily, her eyes clouded. Fireheart wanted to go to her but Bluestar stood in his way. The ThunderClan leader’s blue eyes showed deep pain.

“Spottedleaf told me that fire would save the Clan!” she whispered. “But it has hurt us this time.”

“No,” Fireheart began, but he could not find the words to comfort his leader. His gaze followed Cinderpelt as she stumbled back to the others. To Fireheart’s relief, Brackenfur, Thornpaw, and Brightpaw huddled around her, pressing their pelts to hers and speaking softly. She would be well taken care of by her littermates. He looked back at Bluestar, surprised to see a determined look crossing her face.

“ThunderClan will return home tonight,” she decided in a voice like ice.

“But the woods are empty. The camp is ruined!” protested Graystripe.

“It doesn’t matter. We are strangers here. We should be back in our own territory,” said Bluestar. “We must sit vigil for Yellowfang, and the Clan has new members for us to hold ceremonies for.”

“Then I’ll escort you,” Graystripe offered.

Fireheart glanced at his friend and suddenly understood the longing in his eyes. Graystripe wanted to go home. The realization flooded Fireheart’s mind like a shooting star illuminating the night sky. Fireheart looked expectantly at Bluestar. Surely she could see Graystripe’s desire to return to ThunderClan?

“Why would we need an escort?” demanded Bluestar, her eyes narrowing.

“Well, perhaps I could help you rebuild the camp,” Graystripe suggested uncertainly. “Maybe stay for a while...” He faltered as Bluestar’s eyes flashed angrily.

“Are you trying to say that you want to come back to ThunderClan?” she asked seriously. “I’m sorry, but it’s not that simple.”

Fireheart stared at her in stunned silence.

“You chose to be loyal to your family rather than your Clan,” the leader reminded him. “Now you must live with your decision. Otherwise, every cat will wonder if they can trust you. Switching Clans must never be something you take lightly.”

Graystripe flinched. Fireheart gazed at the old leader in understanding as she turned and called to her Clan, “Get ready to leave. We are returning home!”

The ThunderClan cats leaped to their paws at once, but Fireheart felt nothing but sadness as he watched Bluestar gather her Clan around her.

The leader’s gaze was fixed on a point beyond the cats at the edge of the clearing. Mistyfoot, Stonefur, and Mosslight stood there, watching the ThunderClan cats. Mosslight nodded to Bluestar, a hint of warmth in her eyes. Fireheart saw sorrow pass through Bluestar’s eyes as she stared at her grown kits. Bluestar knew better than any cat what it was like to be torn between Clan and kin. She had once chosen to be loyal to her Clan rather than her kits, and it had caused her more pain than she would have wished on an enemy.

With a flash of insight, Fireheart thought he understood her reaction to Graystripe’s request. It was not the gray warrior she was angry at, but herself. She still regretted leaving her kits all those years ago. She was trying to make sure that Graystripe didn’t make the same mistake.

The ThunderClan cats circled impatiently in the growing darkness, and Bluestar padded toward Crookedstar.

Fireheart turned and licked Graystripe’s shoulder. “Bluestar has her reasons for saying those things,” he murmured. “She’s suffering at the moment, but she’ll recover. And maybe then you can come home.”

Graystripe lifted his eyes and stared hopefully at Fireheart. “You think so?”

“Yes,” answered Fireheart, praying to StarClan that it was true. “Just be sure you choose carefully. If you leave RiverClan, I don’t think they’ll ever let you come back.”

He hurried after Bluestar and caught up in time to hear the ThunderClan leader thank Crookedstar formally for RiverClan’s generosity. Leopardfur stood beside them, gazing coolly at the ThunderClan cats.

“ThunderClan is in your debt,” Bluestar meowed, dipping her head.

Fireheart saw Leopardfur narrow her eyes at Bluestar’s words, her emerald eyes glittering. His paws prickled warily. What payment would RiverClan demand for this kindness? he wondered. He knew Leopardfur well enough to suspect that she would ask for something in return.

He and Sandstorm followed Bluestar as she stalked to the head of her Clan and led them out of the RiverClan camp. Fireheart glanced backward and saw Graystripe standing alone in the shadows, his eyes filled with pain as he watched his former Clanmates walk away.

Fireheart sighed inwardly as Smallear hesitated again at the edge of the river. It was swollen from the rain, but Darkstripe and Whitestorm had already crossed and were waiting in the shallows at the other side. Dustpelt swam beside Ashpaw as his apprentice struggled to keep his little gray head above water. Brackenfur, Thornpaw, and Brightpaw had crossed with Cinderpelt. The three young cats had not left their sister’s side since Fireheart had returned with the news about Yellowfang.

“Hurry up!” Bluestar ordered Smallear. “I know you’re scared, but the sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be across, and then you’ll be home again.”

The gray tom glanced over his shoulder at her, and then hurled himself into the dark water. Fireheart tensed his muscles, ready to spring to the rescue, but there was no need. Longtail and Mousefur appeared on either side of the frantically splashing elder, buoying him up with their strong shoulders.

Bluestar leaped into the river and swam easily to the other side, as if fire had purged any weakness from her and burned her strong again. Fireheart slipped into the water after her, Sandstorm beside him. The clouds above the trees were beginning to thin, and he felt a chill through his wet fur from the fresher wind as he waded from the river. He padded over to Cinderpelt, leaning down to lick her head. Sandstorm glanced at him, her eyes reflecting his sorrow, while the rest of the Clan paused on the shore and stared in silent horror at the forest. Even in the faint moonlight, the devastation was obvious, the trees stripped bare, the musty fragrances of the leaves and ferns replaced by the bitter stench of burned wood and scorched earth.

Bluestar seemed blind to it all. She strode past the other cats without pausing and headed up the slope toward Sunningrocks and the trail home. Her Clan could do nothing but follow.

“It’s like being somewhere else,” whispered Sandstorm. Fireheart nodded in agreement.

“Cloudpaw.” Fireheart slipped through the cats ahead of him and fell in step beside his apprentice. “Thank you for staying in the RiverClan camp as I asked.”

“No problem.” Cloudpaw shrugged.

“How are the elders?”

“They’re going to take a while to get over Halftail’s death, though they’re grateful Patchpelt didn’t join him.” Cloudpaw’s voice was subdued. “But I managed to get them to eat some fresh-kill while you were away. They need to keep their strength up, however much they are grieving.”

“Well done. That was the right thing to do,” Fireheart told him, proud of his apprentice’s unexpectedly wise compassion.

The ravine lay like an open wound in the landscape. Sandstorm stopped and peered over the edge, and Fireheart could see her trembling. He was shivering too, even though his fur had already dried from the river crossing. The Clan filed slowly down the steep slope and followed Bluestar into the camp. Inside the clearing the cats gazed silently around the stripped, blackened space that had once been their home.

“Take me to Yellowfang’s body!” Bluestar meowed quietly at Fireheart, cracking the silence. “I would like to share tongues with her alone one last time.

Fireheart nodded. He began to pad toward Yellowfang’s clearing, and Bluestar followed. Fireheart glanced over his shoulder and saw Cinderpelt limping behind the ThunderClan leader.

“She’s in her den,” he meowed, standing at the entrance. Bluestar slipped into the shadows inside the rock.

Cinderpelt sat down and waited.

“Aren’t you going in?” Fireheart asked.

“I’ll grieve later,” Cinderpelt told him. “I think the Clan needs us now.”

Surprised at the composure in Cinderpelt’s voice, Fireheart looked into her eyes. They were unnaturally bright with sadness, but seemed calm as she blinked gently at him. He returned the gesture, grateful for her strength of spirit in the middle of such endless tragedy.

Bluestar stepped out from Yellowfang’s den. “She gave her life trying to save the Clanmates chose to join,” she mewed softly. “We will hold vigil for her tonight.”

Fireheart nodded at his leader, numb with sadness. He noticed Cinderpelt creep quietly to Yellowfang’s den and wondered if she’d gone to grieve for her old friend, but she reappeared a moment later holding something in her jaws, which she dropped beside Bluestar.

“Eat these, Bluestar,” she urged. “They will ease your pain.”

“Is she injured?” asked Fireheart.

Cinderpelt turned to look at him and lowered her voice. “She inhaled a lot of smoke from the fire as well.” She blinked. “As strong as she’s been lately these poppy seeds will help her sleep and give her body time to heal.” She turned back to Bluestar and whispered again, “Eat them, please.”

Bluestar shook her head. “If you want me to rest, I will do so, but I want to ensure I am awake for Yellowfang’s vigil. Give these poppy seeds to some cat to some cat who needs them more than I do.”

“As you wish,” Cinderpelt mewed softly. “But please try to save your strength for now.”

Fireheart felt his paws tremble as he watched Cinderpelt’s quiet skill. Yellowfang would be so proud of her apprentice. He padded into the den and grasped Yellowfang’s crumpled, smoke-stained body by its scruff. He heaved it into the moonlit clearing, and arranged it so that Yellowfang rested with the same dignity with which she had lived. When he had finished he bent down to give his old friend one final lick. “You shall sleep beneath the stars for the last time tonight,” he whispered, and settled down beside her to sit in vigil as he had promised.

*  *  *  *  *

The Clan gathered around them to remember Yellowfang. Cinderheart, Lionblaze, and Dovewing were in the medicine den, watching over their unconscious friend. Jayfeather had treated her, applying poultices to her wounds and burns, but was unsure when or if she’d wake up. If she hadn’t been immortal, she would be dead right now, just like Yellowfang and Halftail.

Now Jayfeather was in the clearing. He planned to speak at the vigil.

He and Cinderpelt were placing herbs in Yellowfang’s fur, just as Jayfeather had done with Yellowfang for Mistflow moons before after Brokentail had attacked.

Bluestar looked around her gathered Clan. Sadness glimmered in her blue eyes, but her voice was steady when she began the ceremony. “Cats of ThunderClan, we are gathered now to remember Halftail, a cat who served ThunderClan bravely in any circumstance, and Yellowfang, who chose to make this place her home. Would any cat like to speak?”

Nighthunter was the first to speak. “Halftail was Redtail’s mentor,” she began. “He taught him everything he knew and acted as a mentor to all of us who were apprentices at the time.”

Willowpelt nodded. “I was there for many of their training sessions. Halftail somehow managed to curb Redtail’s enthusiasm without being harsh or impatient.”

“Halftail was my sister’s mentor,” Bluestar meowed. “He trained her well and helped her become the most skilled warrior in ThunderClan.”

“When we were kits, there was scarcely any prey in ThunderClan,” Runningwind remembered. “Halftail hunted tirelessly for us, going out three or even four times in a day to find food for us to eat.”

Mousefur spoke up. “He was a loving father and mentor, and he was devastated when both of his apprentices died before he did. I hope he is happily sharing tongues with them now.”

Speckletail looked up at the stars. “I will join you someday,” she promised. “Wait for me.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, old friend,” Patchpelt rasped, his throat still sore from the smoke he’d inhaled.

The Clan waited in silence for a few moments, but it seemed that every cat who was going to had spoken for Halftail. Now it was Yellowfang’s turn.

Naturally, the entire Clan turned to Fireheart, Cinderpelt, and Jayfeather. They were the ones who had known the medicine cat the best and were clearly the most effected by what had happened.

Fireheart coughed, struggling to clear his throat enough to speak. Sandstorm pressed against his side, giving him a reassuring smile. He smiled back at his mate, feeling deeply bittersweet.

“As all of you know, Yellowfang and I were really close. I could always go and talk to her, to ask for advice. She would somehow know exactly what I needed to hear, although that didn’t mean her words would be gentle.” He paused, listening to the Clan laughing quietly. “Our bond might have started because I was forced to care for her as punishment, but I truly got to know her during that time. She was such a caring sister to Marigoldpaw and Mintpaw while they were here–I wish that they could be here now. Yellowfang had so much courage and compassion and loyalty to the cats who deserved it. She died as she lived, trying to save a Clanmate.” Fireheart broke off, unable to continue. He stumbled against Sandstorm.

Cinderpelt stepped into his place. “If it weren’t for Yellowfang, I would have died after that monster hit me. She saved my life and taught me how to be a medicine cat. Even when I was struggling to remember the herbs and making stupid mistakes, she didn’t give up on me. I know that she is watching over me and all of us now, probably yelling at us to shake it off and get on with our duties.”

Now it was Jayfeather’s turn. There was so much conflicted pain in the other medicine cat’s eyes that Fireheart had no idea what he was going to say.

“I first met Yellowfang in StarClan when I was an apprentice. I hadn’t been training for very long and wasn’t taking it seriously when I went to share dreams with them. So she came to visit me, called me a kit, and warned me away from any mischief. After that, she continued to watch over me and even gave me the last answer I’d been looking for in terms of my parents.

But what I didn’t know is that she’d been trying to protect my littermates and I since before we were born. When our mother went to seek answers from StarClan, Yellowfang did what she could to advise her and push us toward a safe life. The way Yellowfang did it was wrong, but she never meant for any cat to get hurt. And maybe this time, she won’t have to make the choices she did before.”

Jayfeather stepped back, leaving Bluestar to be the final remembrance. “I did not know Yellowfang for very long, but I valued her honor, her sacrifice. She gave up everything to be medicine cat to the Clan whose own medicine cat her former Clan had just killed. She helped guide ThunderClan through sickness and battle. May StarClan honor her.”

Now that everyone had said what they wanted to, it was time for the final sendoff. The last time a Clanmate had died, Yellowfang had been the one to take on this duty. Now it fell to Cinderpelt.

Her eyes brimming with tears, Cinderpelt spoke the words that had been repeated for season after season. “May StarClan light your path. May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.”

She crouched down beside the medicine cat, grooming her one last time, while Jayfeather and Fireheart joined her. It was a much smaller group than it had been for Mistflow, but there was just as much love in them for Yellowfang as there had been in the entire Clan back then.

Chapter Text

“Don’t lie there like a dead pigeon! Go for his hind legs!” Tigerclaw hissed. Oakpaw was sprawled on his back, felled by a blow from Rowanpaw. The lithe ginger tom danced out of the way, purring.

“Too slow, Oakpaw!” he taunted.

Tigerclaw lashed his tail. “Are you going to let your enemy speak to you like that?” he challenged Oakpaw.

The pale brown cat scrambled to his feet. “No way!” He launched himself at Rowanpaw, paws flailing. Rowanpaw fell back with a grunt, and Tigerclaw noted with satisfaction that Oakpaw had unsheathed his claws and drawn blood. Slowly, slowly, these ShadowClan cats were learning. He wondered if Stripestalk was having the same luck with Marigoldpaw and Mintpaw, who seemed to have a deep aversion to any kind of fighting. It was a consequence of what Brokenstar had done to them when they were kits, and he hoped they would grow out of it before they became warriors.

“Is Rowanpaw hurt?” mewed a worried voice behind him. Tigerclaw turned to see Runningnose emerging from a clump of bracken, his nose moist as usual, and his eyes cloudy with concern.

“He’s fine,” Tigerclaw meowed. “He’ll move quicker next time, that’s all.”

Runningnose nodded. “I trust you to train these apprentices to fight in any battle, Tigerclaw,” he murmured. “No cat could doubt your loyalty to our Clan.”

Not for a moment, Tigerclaw thought. When he had returned from watching ThunderClan burn, he had let the ShadowClan cats believe that his shocked look was due to his fear that the flames would cross the Thunderpath. Tigerclaw had insisted on patrolling that border alone all day, watching long hollow snakes spurt water onto the burning trees while Twolegs scurried about, yelping. Even after three sunrises, the woods still smelled of smoke, and blackened, charred trunks could be seen deep in ThunderClan _ territory. Tigerclaw wondered if Bluestar had brought her cats back to the ravine yet. All of the dens would need rebuilding, and prey would be scarce, driven off or killed by the flames.

He had spoken to Stripestalk about it privately, and to her credit, she had asked only about Bramblekit and Tawnykit. She’d been relieved when he told her they were both fine, but angry that it had been Fireheart who’d saved his son.

“I wondered if I could have a word?” Runningnose mewed beside him, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Of course.” Tigerclaw checked that Oakpaw and Rowanpaw weren’t actually killing each other, then led the medicine cat away from the training area into a circle of hawthorns. “Is something wrong?”

Runningnose blinked. “The full moon is coming. How can ShadowClan go to the Gathering when we have no leader, no deputy?” He scraped at the ground. “But if we don’t go, every other Clan will know that something is wrong. Perhaps I should just ask StarClan to send clouds to cover the moon!” He strained to sound lighthearted, but Tigerclaw could smell fear coming from the old cat’s ruffled pelt.

“Has StarClan sent you any omens about who should lead ShadowClan?” he asked, trying to keep his voice mild. Inside, something stirred, a feeling of hunger, the certainty that everything he wanted was drawing closer.

Runningnose shook his head. “Nothing,” he mewed. “But perhaps I’ve been too busy, or too tired, to see the signs. My Clan is on the brink of destruction, and it could be my fault!”

Tigerclaw rested his tail on the old cat’s shoulder. “Look around you,” he urged. “ShadowClan is not on the brink of destruction! Your Clan is full of strong, able warriors. You know in your heart which one will make the best leader.” He stepped away from Runningnose, studied him carefully. “You alone know the signs that StarClan might send. Your ancestors trust you enough to be their voice in ShadowClan. You can help them choose the next leader.”

Runningnose’s head jerked up. “Are you saying that I should fake a sign? I couldn’t do that!”

“Of course not,” Tigerclaw soothed. “But surely any choice that the medicine cat makes is guided by StarClan, whether he knows it or not?”

Runningnose looked troubled. “You mean, StarClan would ensure that I made the same decision as it would?”

Tigerclaw nodded. “Think about it, Runningnose. There are still several days before the Gathering. Keep watch for signs from your ancestors—but also listen to the voice inside your own mind.”

Ha! purred Mapleshade.

Runningnose pushed his way out of the hawthorns, his eyes still troubled. Almost at once the branches on the other side of the little clearing rustled and Jaggedtooth emerged.

“He should choose you, if he has any sense,” the ginger tom meowed. “Why didn’t you tell him that, and help him make the decision?”

Tigerclaw blinked. “I cannot determine the will of StarClan.”

Jaggedtooth’s eyes glittered. “I don’t share your faith in dead cats,” he mewed. “Perhaps that makes things easier?”

Tigerclaw held his gaze and gave him a tiny nod. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Jaggedtooth. I won’t ever forget that.”

Jaggedtooth nodded back. “I know,” he mewed.

*  *  *  *  *

The sky above the pines was as dark as the water in the marshes, but the trees glowed silver in the light of a swollen moon.

“Tomorrow is the night of the Gathering,” Tigerclaw heard Fernshade whisper to Rowanberry. “Has Runningnose told you what he’s going to tell the other Clans?”

“I don’t think he’ll need to tell them anything,” Russetfur put in. “It’s going to be pretty obvious that Nightstar has died and we don’t have a leader.”

“Or a deputy,” added Applefur. “The other Clans will laugh us out of Fourtrees.”

“Be patient,” urged a quiet voice. Tangleburr had joined them. “There is still time for StarClan to answer our prayers.”

Scorchfur’s voice sounded above the rest. “Don’t worry. ShadowClan will not have to worry about who their leader will be much longer.”

There was a stir of movement outside the medicine den, and Runningnose appeared, his gray-and-white pelt lit up by the moonlight. He crossed to the rock and hauled himself onto it. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a meeting!” he called, his thin voice echoing through the trees.

Tigerclaw unfolded himself from the shadows and joined the others as they sat at the foot of the rock. Runningnose looked no bigger or stronger than a kit, and Tigerclaw marveled at the way his Clanmates gazed at him with such respect, such trust that he would restore their Clan to how it should be.

“Clanmates, I know you are troubled about the Gathering,” Runningnose began. “I share your fears, but be strong! Have faith in our warrior ancestors to send us a new leader soon!”

There was a murmur from the watching cats, and Deerfoot stood up. “Soon isn’t now!” he hissed. “The Gathering is tomorrow! Does StarClan want us to look weak and leaderless in front of the other Clans?”

“Has StarClan given up on us?” wailed Rowanpaw. He was hushed by Stripestalk, who flicked him gently with her tail.

“Of course they haven’t given up on us,” Runningnose mewed, but his words were drowned by his Clanmates’ increasingly noisy protests.

“We’ll be pounced on like rats as soon as the Clans hear about Nightstar’s death!” yowled Ratscar.

“How can we survive without a leader?” snarled Tallpoppy. “No other Clan has ever turned up at a Gathering without one!”

Runningnose hung his head and said nothing. Tigerclaw could smell the misery coming from him. Don t give up now, he urged. There is still something you can do.

Suddenly the medicine cat tensed. His ears pricked, and his gaze fixed on something at the foot of the rock. There was a tiny, pale glint among the grass, dappled in the moonlight. Runningnose jumped down and put his muzzle close to it. Then his head shot up in astonishment.

“Its a claw!” he gasped. “Here, at the bottom of the rock. Has any cat lost a claw today?”

Warriors and apprentices shook their heads, and puzzled murmurs spread through the Clan.

Runningnose was studying the claw again. He reached out carefully and touched it with his paw, shifting it so that the other cats could see it. “Look,” he whispered. “The moon has cast shadows on it. Not shadows, stripes.” He looked up and stared at Tigerclaw. “Stripes like a tiger’s pelt.”

“Its a sign!” gasped Dawncloud. “It must be!”

“StarClan has chosen our new leader!” called Blackfoot.

“Tigerclaw!” breathed Runningnose, and as one the cats of ShadowClan turned to gaze at Tigerclaw. “StarClan has spoken,” the medicine cat mewed. “And we must listen.”

Tigerclaw felt the breath catch in his chest. After all this time, the ancestors had chosen him! He had served them for so long, tried to challenge the weak leadership in ThunderClan, been driven out and forced to prove his loyalty to a new Clan. And now at last StarClan was rewarding him with a leadership of his own. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Tigerclaw closed his eyes and sensed the ranks of shadowed cats swell around him. Like a dark wave they surged through the forest, carrying him along on legs that seemed weightless. He felt a yowl of joy rise inside him as he raced into battle with his Clanmates. “Follow my lead!” he called, and countless warriors fell in behind him, matching their stride to his. Ahead, their enemy quivered with fear... ..

“Tigerclaw?” Blackfoot mewed quietly. “Runningnose wants to speak with you.”

Tigerclaw blinked open his eyes. The medicine cat was standing in front of him, close enough for Tigerclaw to smell his rancid breath.

Runningnose bowed low. “Will you do us the honor of leading us, Tigerclaw? StarClan has spoken, and it has chosen you.”

We did it! screeched Mapleshade inside his head. Didn't I promise you this would happen?

“And we choose you, too!” yowled Boulder over the heads of his Clanmates. “You have led us out of the darkness after Nightstar’s death, and shown us how to be strong again!”

Tigerclaw dipped his head. “I am stunned by the decision of our ancestors,” he meowed. “I came late to ShadowClan, though I hope no cat would question my loyalty to each one of you. I never looked for this. If you’re sure, and if StarClan has spoken, then I can only say yes.”

“Hail the new ShadowClan leader!” called Runningnose, and the night air was split with screeches of joy and relief.

There was a faint rustle in the brambles behind Tigerclaw. He turned and saw a pair of amber eyes gleaming. Jaggedtooth limped forward, bleeding from one toe where the claw had been ripped out. Tigerclaw glanced down at the injury. “You took a big risk that it would work,” he murmured.

Jaggedtooth lashed his tail. “It paid off,” he growled. “You can thank me later.”

Tigerclaw turned and padded to the center of the clearing. The other cats fell silent as he sprang onto the rock. Tigerclaw settled his paws on the cold, smooth stone and looked down at his Clanmates: Stripestalk, who had followed him from their birth Clan even when no others would, Nightwhisper, Jetstalker, and Jaggedtooth, former strays who would be loyal to him until their last breath; Runningnose and Littlecloud, his medicine cats, watching for signs that StarClan sent to their leader; strong warriors, healthy queens, and apprentices desperate to learn how to fight as bravely as he did. He caught Blackfoot’s eye; he would make him deputy before the moon rose above the treetops. Not Jaggedtooth, who needed to understand that Tigerclaw owed him nothing.

Tigerclaw braced his shoulders. He should prepare for the Gathering, when Bluestar would be forced to face him as her equal, at the head of a Clan that could match hers any day.

But that was tomorrow. For now, Tigerclaw was content to listen to his Clanmates calling his new name. Tigerstar! Tigerstar!

*  *  *  *  *

Stripestalk listened to cheering of the happy ShadowClan cats surrounding her. Beside her, Rowanpaw shouted his excitement to the stars. He doesn’t know who has just become his leader! she thought in horror. Her belly clenched as she watched Tigerclaw basking in the Clan’s admiration. She’d failed to stop this from happening. All she could do now was hope that she would be able to fix this.

Tigerclaw flicked his tail to quiet the Clan. Instantly silence fell. He’s going to appoint the new deputy, she guessed. “Cats of ShadowClan,” he began. “The trial we have all just come through has made it more clear than ever that there should always be an appointed deputy in case the leader is unable to perform their duties. Therefore, I say these words before StarClan that they may hear and approve my choice–”

“No!” Blackfoot’s voice rang out in the silence. Tigerclaw looked down at him. Did the warrior have any idea what he was doing interrupting the deputy ceremony? “Tigerclaw is not meant to be the leader of our Clan. He is a remorseless murderer who killed to gain power. That’s how he became deputy of ThunderClan. He killed Redtail!”

Oh no! Stripestalk looked at Tigerclaw to see him growing angry. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” the dark tabby protested. “Oakheart killed Redtail.”

“That’s a lie!” Blackfoot spat. “You killed Redtail to gain power, and when you were tired of being deputy, you plotted with Brokenstar to attack your own Clan. And let’s not forget the way you tried to kill Runningwind at the Thunderpath or how you’ve been forcing us all to train with claws unsheathed, just like our former tyrant leader!”

An anxious murmuring broke out among the cats. Tigerclaw curled his lip in a snarl. “Are you so certain you know the full story? Do you think I would bring destruction to ShadowClan? Why don’t you ask the newest time traveler?” He swung his massive head to one side and called, “Scratchflight!”

At his call, a brown tabby tom with a black paw and green eyes pushed his way out from his Clanmates. “Yes, Tigerclaw.”

“I want you to tell your Clanmates exactly what you told me, about the future.”

“Of course, Tigerclaw,” Scratchflight meowed. Stripestalk was grateful he wasn’t any closer to her. The new tom smelled disgusting, as if he’d been rolling around in Carrionplace for fun.

Scorchfur and Redwillow stared at Scratchflight. “Who are you?” Redwillow demanded.

Scratchflight smirked at them. “Don’t you recognize me?” he asked in a sickly sweet tone. “I suppose not. After all, ordinary warriors aren’t usually the ones blessed with seeing StarClan cats.”

This of course got everyone’s attention, and the ShadowClan cats studied him with interest.

“I apologize that no cat has told you about the future sooner,” Scratchflight mewed, in a deceptively apologetic voice. “But I can promise you that there is nothing to fear from Tigerstar’s leadership. He is not alive in my time, having sacrificed his lives one at a time, for all of the Clan. Those of us in StarClan watched as he made ShadowClan so strong, no Clan dares threaten them. The forest is happy and at peace, and every cat is full-fed even in leaf-bare. The Clans speak of him in legend, remembering his wisdom and courage, and every newborn kit grows up wanting one thing: to be the next Tigerstar.”

He’s lying. That much was clear from the dismay on Redwillow’s face, and the way that Scorchfur was tearing at the earth with his claws. Why didn’t you tell any cat the truth sooner? The time travelers wouldn’t stand a chance of convincing cats now, and Stripestalk wasn’t sure she did either. She was still going to try.

Apparently, so was Blackfoot. The white warrior was glaring back and forth between Tigerclaw and Scratchflight. “You’re both lying!” Blackfoot challenged. “There’s no way he’s from the future.”

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing!” Scratchflight protested. “I came here to promise ShadowClan a happy future, and you want me to lie about it. What would you rather here: that this forest was destroyed by Twolegs and the Clans now live in a new place with infinite problems and are still fighting each other for dominance?”

“All I want is the truth,” Blackfoot growled. “And the truth is that neither of you can be trusted.”

Scratchflight sighed. “Clearly, I won’t convince you with words. So maybe we should prove who’s right by combat.”

“What?” Blackfoot narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying you want to fight?”

“Of course,” Scratchflight purred. “That’s how the Clans have proven things for a long time when I’m from.”

Stripestalk froze. I have to stop this!

Tigerclaw cleared his throat. “Actually, Scratchflight, that wouldn’t be fair to Blackfoot. As a time travel, you have special immortality, which would prove to be a deciding advantage. Someone else should fight.”

Scratchflight dipped his head. “As you wish.”

The rest of the Clan began murmuring confusedly around Stripestalk. What did Tigerclaw think he was doing.

“I know the perfect cat for this challenge, one who has shown a loyalty to ShadowClan like no other.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Then he announced, “Stripestalk will fight him.”

Mixed emotions flooded Stripestalk at his words. While she didn’t want to fight Blackfoot, and she definitely didn’t want to hurt him, this would be her chance to ensure Tigerclaw never doubted her loyalty to him. How do I fight him without one of us getting hurt?

Something white caught her eye and she saw the flowers she’d gathered with Rowanpaw and Cedarpaw still lying there. They were still fresh, even though it had been some time.

That’s it! The flowers were a sacred reminder to ShadowClan, a reminder of what happened when their Clanmates fought each other. If I can get him over there, the Clan might stop this!

“I would be proud to fight,” Stripestalk growled. “ShadowClan needs loyal cats, not cowards who are afraid of what it means for their Clan to have a strong leader.”

Tigerclaw nodded approvingly. “Well said.” He looked at both cats, who were now alone in the main space of the clearing, and ordered, “Now fight!”

Immediately, Stripestalk hurled herself at Blackfoot. She crossed the space between them so quickly he was caught off guard and thrown back several fox-lengths. Pressing her advantage, she leaped at him again. He scrambled to his paws and tried to swipe at her, but she ducked under his claws, twisted around, braced herself against the ground, and launched him backwards with a powerful kick from both hindlegs.

He landed squarely in the middle of the flowers. Stripestalk advanced on him slowly, and breathed a sigh of relief only Blackfoot could see when Rowanpaw called out, “Wait! You can’t fight him now!” Stripestalk turned to look back at the other cats.

“What are you talking about?” Tigerclaw demanded, glaring at the apprentice. “They must fight.”

“Rowanpaw is right,” Marigoldpaw agreed. “No ShadowClan cat may fight inside the camp, and any cat who reaches those flowers is granted immunity from any retribution.”

Cats immediately began chiming in.

“The apprentices are right!”

“It’s a Clan tradition!”

“Let Blackfoot live!” The last one came from Deerfoot, and it quickly spread through the rest of ShadowClan. “Let Blackfoot live! Let Blackfoot live!”

Tigerclaw was absolutely furious. Stripestalk could see him scraping the rock with his claws, but even he wasn’t foolish enough to go against the wishes of the entire Clan. “Very well,” he agreed smoothly. “I will spare Blackfoot. I would hate for any cat to think I don’t respect ShadowClan tradition.”

“What will happen to Blackfoot now?” Stripestalk called out.

Before Tigerclaw could answer, Scorchfur interjected, “In our time, Blackfoot has dedicated his life to ensuring ShadowClan is strong and safe. We would be foolish not to honor him for this.”

“Of course,” Tigerclaw rumbled. “Blackfoot may stay in ShadowClan and work hard to make amends for his foolish challenge here tonight.”

“Blackfoot! Blackfoot! Blackfoot!” Several cats, including Deerfoot and Clawface called out the warrior’s name in relief.

Tigerclaw raised his tail for silence once again. “Thanks to Blackfoot’s intervention, I was unable to finish my ceremony. But I think you will all agree that there is one Clanmate who has shown the loyalty and ability to make tough decisions that ShadowClan. Because of these traits, Stripestalk will be the new deputy of ShadowClan.”

Chapter Text

Cinderpelt joined him as the three-quarter moon began to slide away and the horizon glowed cream and pink above the blackened treetops. Fireheart stood and stretched his tired legs. He gazed around the devastated clearing.

“Don’t grieve too much for the forest,” murmured the gray cat beside him. “It will grow back quickly, stronger because of the injuries it has suffered, like a broken bone that heals twice as well.”

Fireheart let her words soothe him. He dipped his head gratefully to her and went to find the rest of the Clan.

Sweetmint and Mousefur were sitting on guard outside Bluestar’s den.

“Cinderpelt ordered it,” Whitestorm explained, padding out of the shadows. The warrior’s pelt was still stained with smoke and his eyes were red-rimmed from the fire and exhaustion. “She said Bluestar was exhausted, and would try to avoid resting unless some cat made sure she did it.”

“Good,” Fireheart meowed. “How are the rest of the Clan?”

“Most of them slept a little, once they’d found places dry enough to he down.”

“We should send out a dawn patrol,” Fireheart thought out loud. “Tigerclaw might take advantage of what has happened.”

“Who will you send?” asked Whitestorm.

“Darkstripe seems the fittest of the warriors, but we’ll need his strength to start rebuilding the camp.” Even as he spoke, Fireheart knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. He wanted to keep the dark tabby warrior where he could see him. “I’d like you to stay here as well, if that’s okay.” Whitestorm dipped his head in agreement as Fireheart continued, “We need to tell the other cats what’s happening.”

“Bluestar is sleeping. Do you think we should disturb her?” A worried frown crossed Whitestorm’s face as he spoke.

Fireheart shook his head. “No. We’ll let her rest. I’ll speak to the Clan.”

Lionblaze had come to join them. “If you want a suggestions on who would do well at rebuilding, Dustpelt and Brackenfur are experts in my time.”

“What bad things have happened that have made it necessary to rebuild the camp?” Fireheart asked grimly.

“It’s not all bad,” Lionblaze protested. “Sure, a tree fell into camp not long before we were sent back here;” he paused and looked at Longtail for a few heartbeats; “but we’ve also needed den expansions because there are so many cats. There’s even talk of building a second warriors den.”

Whitestorm smiled. “I would consider that a good problem to have.”

“So does our Clan leader,” Lionblaze agreed.

Fireheart shook his head. He bounded onto the Highrock in a single leap and called the familiar summons. Below him, the Clan cats padded drowsily from the wreckage of their dens, their tails and ears flicking in surprise when they saw Fireheart waiting where their leader usually stood to address them.

“We must rebuild the camp,” he began once they had settled in front of him. “I know it looks a mess now, but it is the height of greenleaf. The forest will grow back quickly, stronger because of the injuries it has suffered.” He blinked as he repeated Cinderpelt’s words.

“Why isn’t Bluestar telling us this?” Fireheart stiffened as Darkstripe challenged him from the back of the group.

“Bluestar is exhausted,” Fireheart told him. “Cinderpelt has given her poppy seeds so that she can rest and recover.” Anxious murmurs rippled through the cats below.

“The more she rests, the quicker she’ll recover,” Fireheart reassured them. “Just like the forest.”

“The forest is empty,” fretted Brindleface. “The prey has run away or died in the fire. What will we eat?” She glanced anxiously at her kits, her face shadowed with a mother’s concern even though her kits had left the nursery.

“The prey will come back,” Fireheart assured her. “We must hunt as usual, and if we need to go a little farther to find fresh-kill, then we will.” Murmurs of agreement rose from the clearing, and Fireheart began to feel a surge of confidence.

“Longtail, Mousefur, Thornpaw, and Dustpelt — you’ll take the dawn patrol.” The four cats looked up at Fireheart and nodded, unquestioning. “Swiftblade, Lightfrost, you can replace Mousefur and Sweetmint on guard duty and make sure Bluestar is not disturbed. The rest of us will start work on the camp. Whitestorm will organize parties to gather materials. Darkstripe, you can supervise the rebuilding of the camp wall.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” demanded Darkstripe. “The ferns are all burned away.”

“Use whatever you can,” answered Fireheart. “But make sure it is strong. We mustn’t forget Tigerclaw’s threat. We need to stay alert. All kits shall remain in camp. Apprentices will travel only with warriors.” Fireheart gazed down on the silent Clan. “Are we agreed?”

Loud mews rose from the crowd. “We are!” they called.

“Right,” Fireheart meowed. “Let’s start work!”

The cats began to move away from the Highrock, weaving among one another swiftly to gather around Whitestorm and Darkstripe for their instructions.

Lionblaze weaved his way through the crowd. “In the future, we’ve had a lot of practice with this kind of thing,” he announced. “I can give you suggestions on how to do this more efficiently.”

Fireheart watched his grandson, proud of the way he was taking a leadership role for these tasks, and jumped down from the Highrock and padded to Sandstorm. “How are you doing?” he asked her.

“Tired,” she admitted. “There’s been a lot of excitement and a lot of tragedy around here in the last few days.”

“True.” Fireheart forced himself to avoid the memories of his last moments with Yellowfang. They’d held vigil for their Clanmates, and now it was time to focus on the future. “Hopefully we can get a break.”

She snorted. “When have we ever been that lucky?”

*  *  *  *  *

The sky stayed gray and cloudy over the next few days, but the showers didn’t hamper the rebuilding of the camp. In fact Fireheart welcomed the cleansing rain that would wash the ash into the soil and help the forest to recover.

Clawface had come directly to the camp this morning, bringing a message from Stripestalk. He’d told Bluestar, Fireheart, Sandstorm, Whitestorm, and Dustpelt about how Tigerclaw had been chosen as ShadowClan’s new leader, and how most of the Clan had accepted it. The news had darkened Fireheart’s spirits, and he wondered if the weather itself would be just as dark.

But the sun shone high overhead, the clouds billowing away over the horizon. The sky will be clear for tonight's Gathering, Fireheart thought ruefully, wishing for once that the moon could be hidden so that the Gathering could not be held. Bluestar was being her usual compassionate self, throwing herself into the repairs with a passion Fireheart had never seen in her before. The ThunderClan leader seemed to be almost young again, moving sticks and branches with a nearly unmatched ease.

He padded around the edge of the clearing, feeling a ripple of pride at the work the Clan had done so far. The camp was already regaining some of its former shape. The trunk of the elders’ oak was blackened but still in one piece, although its maze of branches had burned away to nothing. The bramble nursery, which had been stripped of its protective leaves down to a tangle of stems, had been carefully patched with leafy twigs fetched from less damaged parts of the forest. And the camp wall had been shored up with the strongest branches the cats could find, although there was little they could do to replace the thick barrier of ferns that used to surround the camp. For that they would have to wait for the forest to grow again.

Fireheart heard a scratching behind the nursery. Through the patchy walls, he saw a familiar pelt of white fur. “Cloudpaw!” he called.

The apprentice emerged from behind the bramble bush, his jaws crammed with twigs that he’d been weaving through the nursery walls. Fireheart blinked in welcome. He hadn’t been the only cat to notice how hard Cloudpaw had worked these past few days to fix the camp. There had been no more questions about the white apprentice’s commitment to the Clan. Fireheart wondered if it had taken something as severe as a fire for Cloudpaw to discover the true meaning of loyalty. The young cat stood in front of him now without speaking, his fur flattened and blotchy with soot and mud, his eyes strained and exhausted.

“Go and rest,” Fireheart ordered gently. “You’ve earned it.”

Cloudpaw dropped his bundle of twigs. “Let me finish these first.”

“You can finish them later.”

“But I’ve only got a few left to do,” Cloudpaw argued.

“You look dead on your paws,” Fireheart insisted. “Go on.”

“Yes, Fireheart.” He turned to leave and glanced forlornly at the fallen oak where Smallear sat with Dappletail and One-Eye. “The elders’ den seems so empty,” he mewed.

“Halftail is with StarClan now,” Fireheart reminded him. “He’ll be watching you tonight from Silverpelt.” A wave of grief tugged at his belly as he remembered the vigil they’d held. He hadn’t known the elder well, and just like Mistflow, he had learned more about him thanks to his death than he ever had in Halftail’s lifetime.

Patchpelt was taking it the hardest, still feeling immensely guilty over having listened to Ivypool when she’d ordered him to leave camp, which had left her in a coma. Cloudpaw and Brightpaw were taking turns visiting the black-and-white elder, keeping him company and trying to cheer him up. Sometimes the two young cats even visited him together.

The silver-and-white she-cat hadn’t even stirred, and Jayfeather and Cinderpelt were taking turns massaging her limbs and muscles, and turning her over every so often, in hopes of keeping her blood flowing properly and reducing any extra damage she might receive from not moving for so long.

Cloudpaw nodded, but he looked unconvinced. Fireheart knew that the apprentice still found it hard to believe that the lights of Silverpelt were the spirits of their warrior ancestors, watching over their old hunting grounds. “Go and rest,” he repeated.

The young cat dragged his paws toward the charred stump where the apprentices gathered to eat and share tongues. Brightpaw hurried across the clearing to greet her friend, and Cloudpaw met her with a friendly nuzzle. But the white apprentice’s eyelids were already drooping, and his greeting was interrupted by a huge yawn. He lay down where he was, resting his head on the ground and closing his sore eyes. Brightpaw crouched at his side and gently began to wash Cloudpaw’ s grubby pelt. Watching them, Fireheart felt a pang of loneliness as he remembered the same companionship he had once shared with Graystripe.

He turned his paws once more toward Bluestar’s den. Longtail was sitting outside, and he nodded as Fireheart passed. Fireheart paused at the entrance. The lichen had been burned away and the stone was black with soot. He mewed a quiet greeting and stepped inside. Without the lichen, the wind as well as daylight flooded in, and Bluestar had dragged her bedding into the shadows at the back of the drafty cave.

Cinderpelt sat beside the huddled shape of the leader, pushing a pile of herbs toward her. “They’ll make you feel better,” she urged.

“I feel fine,” grumbled Bluestar, keeping her eyes fixed on the sandy floor.

“I’ll leave them here, then. Perhaps you’ll manage them later.” Cinderpelt stood and walked unevenly toward the den entrance.

“How is she?” Fireheart whispered.

“Stubborn,” replied Cinderpelt. “She’s overworked herself rebuilding the camp, and thanks to her smoke inhalation, she won’t be able to go to the Gathering tonight.” She brushed past him out of the den.

Fireheart approached his leader. “Bluestar,” he began tentatively, dipping his head. “The Gathering is tonight. Have you decided who will go?”

“The Gathering?” Bluestar said with annoyance. “Cinderpelt has decided I’m not healthy enough to attend tonight. I feel that I am dishonoring StarClan by staying.” As she spoke, a cloud of ash blew through the open doorway, cutting off her words with a bout of coughing.

Fireheart stared in dismay as spasms racked her frail body. Bluestar was the leader of the Clan! Surely she’d recover from this.

“Y-you aren’t dishonoring StarClan,” he stammered at last. “They will understand why you can’t be there to represent your own Clan. They need you to regain your strength now. You’ve worked harder than any cat to rebuild the camp. After all you’ve done for us, let us do something for you.”

Bluestar groaned in resignation. “Very well,” she meowed. “I will rest after I officially welcome Healer’s kin to the Clan. Robin and Red can begin their training, and all three of them can go to the Gathering with the rest of the patrol.”

“Who is on the patrol?” Fireheart asked again. She had never told him who she wanted to attend.

She met his eyes. “Sweetmint, Nighthunter, Frostfur, Brindleface, Darkstripe, Mousefur, Sandstorm, Whitestorm, Cinderheart, Lionblaze, Ashpaw, and Cloudpaw.”

Fireheart nodded. “Then the rest of the Clan can stay here and protect the camp.”

Leaving the den, Fireheart spotted Whitestorm trotting back into camp with the sunhigh patrol. He signaled to the white warrior with his tail, and Whitestorm headed toward him while the rest of the patrol split up in search of food and a place to rest.

“Bluestar isn’t well enough to attend the Gathering,” Fireheart meowed when Whitestorm reached him.

The elderly warrior shook his head as if the news came as no surprise. “There was a time when nothing would have kept Bluestar from a Gathering,” he observed quietly.

“Cinderpelt was worried that she’s overextended herself helping with the camp. We’re taking a party anyway,” Fireheart told him. “The other Clans must be warned about Tigerclaw. His group of rogues is a threat to all the Clans.”

Whitestorm nodded. “We could tell them Bluestar is ill, I suppose,” he suggested. “But we might be inviting trouble if we let it be known that our leader is weak.”

“It would be worse not to go at all,” Fireheart pointed out. “The other Clans will know about the fire. We must appear to be as strong as we can.”

“WindClan is clearly still hostile,” Whitestorm agreed.

“At least we got Cloudpaw back without any fighting in their territory. That wouldn’t have helped,” Fireheart admitted. “And there’s RiverClan to consider.”

Whitestorm curiously looked at him. “But they gave us shelter after the fire.”

“I know,” Fireheart replied. “But I can’t help wondering if Leopardfur might demand something in return.”

“We have nothing to give.”

“We have Sunningrocks,” Fireheart answered. “RiverClan made no secret of their interest in that part of the forest, and right now we need every bit of our territory for hunting.”

“At least ShadowClan is weakened by sickness,” meowed Whitestorm. “That’s one Clan that won’t be attacking us for a while.”

“Yes,” agreed Fireheart, feeling guilty that they should be helped by another Clan’s suffering.

“Actually, the news about Tigerclaw might work in our favor.” Whitestorm stared at him, puzzled, and Fireheart went on: “If I can persuade the other Clans that he’s a threat to them as well as us, they might put all their energy into protecting their own borders. And maybe ShadowClan will drive him out as they did Brokentail.”

Whitestorm nodded slowly. “It might be our best hope of keeping them away from our territory while we recover our strength. You’re right, Fireheart. We must go to the Gathering, even if Bluestar is unable to come with us.”

As the sun set, the cats began to take fresh-kill from the meager pile they had collected. Fireheart helped himself to a tiny shrew, which he carried to the nettle clump and gulped down in a few hungry mouthfuls. The Clan’s bellies hadn’t been full for days. The prey was returning, but slowly, and Fireheart knew they had to be careful about how much they caught. The forest must have a chance to replenish itself before they could eat their fill once more.

Once the cats had finished their paltry meal, Fireheart got to his paws and padded across the clearing.

He felt the eyes of the Clan follow him as he took his place at the base of the Highrock. There was no need to call them — they gathered below with questioning eyes in the fading evening light.

Behind him, Bluestar leaped onto the Highrock, ready to begin the ceremony

“I will not be coming to this Gathering,” she announced. “Our medicine cats have decided it would not be wise, and Jayfeather threatened to hide poppy seeds in my prey if I didn’t stay back.”

“It was the only thing I could think of to convince to stay here willingly!” Jayfeather shot back.

Mews of alarm ripped through the cats, and Fireheart saw Whitestorm weaving among them, calming and reassuring them.

Bramblekit sat outside the nursery, staring up at the Highrock with round, curious eyes. For a moment Fireheart let himself be cheered at the sight of the kit he had saved taking part in a Clan meeting, even if he was technically too young to be there. Hollykit and Honeykit sat on either side of him, looking very protective of their denmate.

“Does this mean ThunderClan won’t attend?” He was roused by Darkstripe’s voice as the striped warrior shouldered his way to the front. “After all, what is a Clan without a leader?”

Was Fireheart imagining the ominous glint in Darkstripe’s eye? “ThunderClan will go to Fourtrees tonight,” Bluestar meowed, addressing the whole Clan. “We must show the other Clans that we are strong, despite the fire.” Fireheart saw nods of agreement. The apprentices shuffled their paws and looked eagerly at one another, too young to understand the seriousness of attending a Gathering without a leader, and distracted by the hope that they might be chosen to go themselves.

“We mustn’t betray any weakness, for the sake of the whole Clan,” Bluestar went on. “Remember, we are ThunderClan!” She yowled the final words, strengthened by the fiery conviction that welled up from her heart, and the Clan responded by straightening their backs, licking at their ash-covered fur, and smoothing their singed whiskers.

“Won’t it look strange if our leader isn’t there?” Dustpelt called out. “ThunderClan doesn’t have any good news to give at the moment.”

Bluestar dipped her head to acknowledge the question. “Then I suppose we should have some good news to give. As you all know, we had three cats choose to join our Clan during the fire, and I think it is time we make that official.” She nodded to the newcomers. “Surge, Red, Robin, do you swear loyalty to ThunderClan and promise to protect it, even at the cost of you life?”

“I do.”

“I do.”

“Of course!” Naturally, Robin gave the most excited answer.

“Very well,” Bluestar continued. “Surge, until we know more about you and the kind of cat you are, you will keep your given name, but we welcome you as a warrior of ThunderClan.” She stepped forward and rested her muzzle on top of Surge’s bowed head, and Surge licked her shoulder.

The Clan called out her name. “Surge! Surge! Surge!”

Now Bluestar turned to the younger cats. “Both of you are ready to serve the Clan. Red, from this moment forward, you will be known as Redpaw.” Turning to the crowd, she continued. “Frostfur, you are a kind and gentle warrior, and I hope you will pass these on to your new apprentice. You will be mentor to Redpaw.”

Frostfur purred and walked over to touch noses with Redpaw. His eyes were delighted, as if he couldn’t believe he was a true warrior apprentice.

“Robin,” Bluestar went on, looking at the other young cat, “from this moment forward, you will be known as Robinpaw.” Turning to stare at a pale gray tabby she-cat seated near the other apprentices, Bluestar announced, “Your mentor will be Brindleface. Brindleface, you have both patience and a peaceful nature. These are both things that you will need, and hopefully pass on, to young Robinpaw.”

Immediately proving Bluestar correct, Robinpaw dashed to meet Brindleface instead of letting come herself. Brindleface purred in amusement, clearly not minding the overwhelming excitement in Robinpaw.

“Redpaw! Robinpaw! Redpaw! Robinpaw!” The Clan cheered for the newest apprentices.

Once the cheering died down, Fireheart stepped forward to speak. “Cats of ThunderClan, since Bluestar is unable to attend this Gathering, I will lead you in her place for tonight.”

“A kittypet leading us? The Clans will laugh us out of Fourtrees!” Darkstripe yowled.

Longtail clouted him with one paw. “This is not the time, Darkstripe.”

“I shall take Sweetmint, Nighthunter, Frostfur, Brindleface, Darkstripe, Mousefur, Sandstorm, Whitestorm, Surge, Cinderheart, Lionblaze, Ashpaw, Robinpaw, Redpaw, and Cloudpaw,” Fireheart announced, pretending nothing had happened.

“Will the others be enough to protect the camp?” Darkstripe demanded.

“Tigerclaw will know there is a Gathering,” added Longtail. “What if he uses the opportunity to attack?”

“We can’t afford to leave more cats behind than usual. If we appear weak at the Gathering, we risk inviting attack from all the Clans,” Fireheart insisted. “Believe me, Tigerclaw will not be attacking ThunderClan tonight!”

“He’s right,” agreed Mousefur. “We can’t let the others see our weakness!”

“RiverClan already knows the fire destroyed our camp,” added Willowpelt. “We must show them we are as strong as ever.”

“Then we are agreed?” asked Fireheart. “The rest of the warriors will guard the camp. Elders, queens who remain, you will be safe with them, and we shall return as soon as we can.”

Bluestar spoke up next. “I will still be here as well,” she promised. “If anything happens, I will protect you with all my strength, but I am fairly certain it will be an uneventful night until the Gathering ends.”

Fireheart listened to the murmurs and searched the eyes looking up at him. With a wave of relief, he saw heads begin to nod. “Good,” he meowed, and leaped down from the rock.

The warriors and apprentices he had chosen to come with him were already circling at the camp entrance, impatiently flicking their tails. A familiar long-furred white pelt was among them. This would be Cloudpaw’s first Gathering. Fireheart had been looking forward to this moment since the kit had first come to the Clan. He still remembered his own first Gathering, racing down the slope to Fourtrees surrounded by mighty warriors, and he couldn’t help feeling a stab of disappointment as he looked around at the smokestained and hungry cats Cloudpaw would have to follow. And yet Fireheart could feel their excitement and pent-up energy as strong as ever. Sandstorm was kneading the ground with her forepaws, and Mousefur’s eyes shone brightly in the growing darkness as Fireheart hurried across to them.

“Longtail,” he meowed, pausing briefly beside the brown warrior. “You will be senior warrior here. Guard the Clan well.”

Longtail dipped his head to Fireheart. “They’ll be safe, I promise.”

Fireheart’s glow of satisfaction at Longtail’s respectful gesture was soured by the mocking glance Darkstripe threw him from the camp entrance. It was as if the warrior could see through his outer confidence to the uncertainty that lay beneath. Fireheart caught Sandstorm’s eye as he passed her. She was staring at him intently.

The cats charged silently through the forest, the burned trees reaching into the darkening sky like twisted claws. Fireheart felt his paws sink into the ash, damp and sticky, but there was a hopeful scent in the air of fresh green shoots sprouting from the cinders.

He glanced backward. Cloudpaw was keeping up well, and Sandstorm was pushing ahead, drawing closer until she ran at his side, matching his pace.

“You spoke well on the Highrock,” she meowed, panting.

“Thanks,” answered Fireheart. He pulled away as they scrambled up a steep mound, accidentally outpacing her, but Sandstorm caught up as they reached the top.

“I. . .I’ve been feeling really strange lately,” she meowed quietly. “I’ve been strangely worried. I’m considering. . .”

“Considering what?” Fireheart asked, confused.

“Considering asking Cinderpelt and Jayfeather to make sure I’m not sick,” Sandstorm finished. Fireheart’s ears twitched. “Bluestar must be proud of you,” she went on, and Fireheart smiled — he had the feeling his Bluestar former mentor was, but he was still grateful for Sandstorm’s words.

“Thanks,” he meowed again. He turned his head as they ran down the other side of the mound and looked into his mate’s soft emerald eyes. “Your support means more to me than any other cat’s, Sandstorm — ” he began.

He was interrupted by the sound of powerful paws drumming behind them, and the voice of Darkstripe growled, “So what are you going to tell the other Clans, then?”

Before Fireheart could answer, a fallen tree loomed ahead. He sprang into the air, but a branch caught his paw and he landed clumsily, stumbling. The other cats raced past him, but they slowed instinctively as Fireheart fell behind.

“Are you okay?” Darkstripe asked as Fireheart caught up to him. The striped warrior’s eyes glinted in the moonlight.

“Yes, fine,” Fireheart answered curtly, trying not to betray the pain in his paw.

It was still throbbing when the cats reached the top of the slope that led down to Fourtrees. Fireheart halted to catch his breath and gather his thoughts before they joined the other Clans. The valley below had been untouched by the fire, and the four oaks towered unscathed into the starry sky.

Fireheart glanced at the cats that waited beside him, tails twitching and ears pricked expectantly. They obviously trusted him to take Bluestar’s place at the Gathering and convince the other Clans that ThunderClan had not been weakened by their recent tragedy. He had to prove himself worthy of that trust. He flicked his tail, signaling to them as he had seen Bluestar signal so many times before, and plunged down toward the Great Rock.

The air in the clearing was heavy with the scent of WindClan and RiverClan. Fireheart felt a tremor of anxiety. In just a few moments he was going to have to stand on the Great Rock and address these cats. There was no sign of ShadowClan. Had the sickness taken such a firm hold that they couldn’t make it to the Gathering? A pang of pity for Whitethroat reminded Fireheart of Tigerclaw, and of the terror in the young warrior’s eyes as the massive cat loomed at the edge of the Thunderpath. Suddenly his paws itched to mount the Great Rock and warn the other Clans about the dark warrior’s presence in the forest.

“Fireheart!” Onewhisker bounded up to Fireheart’s side. He felt a flicker of surprise at Onewhisker’s friendly purr. The last time he had seen a WindClan cat it had been at the last Gathering, when they were still upset about ThunderClan’s having harbored Brokentail. But Onewhisker clearly hadn’t forgotten how Fireheart had brought his Clan back from exile. The two warriors had grown close on that journey, and both cats still valued the bond they had forged.

“Hi, Onewhisker,” Fireheart greeted the brown tabby. “You’d better not let Mudclaw see you talking to me, truce or no truce. Our Clan’s weren’t on very good terms last time we met.”

“I don’t care about grudges,” replied Onewhisker, shifting uncomfortably from paw to paw.

“Maybe,” Fireheart admitted. “But your Clan still seems to.” He found himself wishing Bluestar had been able to share with StarClan at the Moonstone that day. Things might be very different now if she had received some assurance that her warrior ancestors had not turned against her.

“Even if you were sheltering Brokentail, it was no excuse — ”

“Brokentail was dead by then,” Fireheart interrupted him, regretting his tone when he saw Onewhisker’s ears flicking uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Onewhisker,” he meowed more gently. “It’s good to see you again. How are you?”

“Fine,” answered Onewhisker, looking relieved. “I’m sorry to hear about the fire. I know how bad it is for a Clan to be driven from its home.” His eyes met Fireheart’s sympathetically.

“We’ve returned to our camp and we’ve rebuilt it the best we can. It won’t be long before the forest recovers.” Fireheart tried to sound confident.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Onewhisker meowed. “You know, it’s as if we’ve never been away from our camp now. There have been plenty of kits this greenleaf, and Momingflower’s kit is here as an apprentice — it’s his first Gathering.” Fireheart remembered the tiny wet bundle of fur he had helped to carry through the rain, out of Twoleg territory and back to WindClan’s home. He followed Onewhisker’s gaze across the clearing to a young brown tom. Although small like the rest of his Clan, the apprentice’s muscles were already lean and well developed beneath his short, thick fur.

Fireheart noticed Onewhisker suddenly dip his head. He turned to see Tallstar approaching them. The WindClan leader looked at Fireheart with narrowed eyes. “We’ve seen your apprentice, Fireheart,” he remarked. “Just because you once led us home doesn’t give him the freedom to wander around our territory.”

“You have my apologies," replied Fireheart. He forced himself to stay calm, keeping his resentment at Tallstar’s treatment out of his voice — after all, the Gathering was held under a truce, and this was a warrior he had learned to respect on their journey together through Twoleg territory. But Fireheart held the blackand-white leader’s gaze and meowed firmly, “Unfortunately, he was captured by Twolegs and had no choice but to pass through your territory to return to his own Clan. He was accompanied by Ravenpaw and Healer at the time; I believe both are friends to the Clans.”

Tallstar’s eyes glittered back at him; then he gave a tiny nod. “Spoken like a true warrior. Having traveled with you, I wasn’t surprised when Bluestar made you her deputy.” The WindClan leader glanced around the clearing and added, “There are those who thought such a young cat would never carry off such a great responsibility. I was not among them.”

Fireheart was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a compliment from the leader of WindClan. He stifled a delighted purr, and nodded his thanks.

“Where is Bluestar?” asked Tallstar. “I can’t see her among your cats.” His voice was casual but his eyes betrayed a keen interest.

“She’s not feeling well enough to travel yet,” Fireheart answered lightly.

“Was she injured in the fire?”

“Nothing she won’t recover from,” Fireheart meowed, hoping with all his heart that he was telling the truth.

Beside him, Onewhisker looked up sharply. Fireheart followed his gaze to the slope on the other side of the valley. Three ShadowClan cats were charging into the clearing, Runningnose at the head. Fireheart felt a glimmer of relief as he recognized one of the two warriors behind the gray-and-white medicine cat. It was Littlecloud, clearly recovered from the sickness — thanks to Cinderpelt.

The other Clan cats backed away from the ShadowClan warriors as they skidded to a halt in front of the Great Rock. News of their disease had obviously spread through the forest.

“It’s all right,” Runningnose meowed, panting, as if he could read their minds. “ShadowClan is free of the sickness. I have been sent ahead to tell you to wait before you begin the meeting. ShadowClan’s leader is on his way.”

“What makes Nightstar so late?” called Tallstar from Fireheart’s side.

“Nightstar is dead,” answered Runningnose bluntly.

A stunned ripple spread through the other cats like a breeze through trees, and Fireheart blinked. How could the ShadowClan leader be dead? He had only recently received his nine lives. What a terrible sickness! No wonder Littlecloud and Whitethroat had been so afraid to return to their camp.

“Is Cinderfur coming instead?” Whitestorm called, referring to the ShadowClan deputy.

Runningnose looked at his paws. “Cinderfur was one of the first to die of the sickness.”

“Then who is your new leader?” demanded Crookedstar, emerging from the shadows on the other side of the Great Rock.

Runningnose glanced at the RiverClan leader. “You’ll see for yourselves soon enough,” he promised. “He’ll be here shortly.”

“Excuse me,” Fireheart murmured to Tallstar and Onewhisker. “There is something I must share with Runningnose.”

*  *  *  *  *

Lionblaze and Cinderheart slipped away from the rest of their Clanmates to join Heathertail. The light brown she-cat was watching a group of apprentices sharing stories about their adventures.

“Heathertail,” Lionblaze called softly.

She looked over, smiling when she saw the pair of them. “Lionblaze, Cinderheart, it’s good to see you,” she meowed in a friendly tone.

“It’s good to see you too,” Cinderheart purred. “So much has happened lately, but it’s helpful to see a friendly face from our time.”

“What about Jayfeather?” Heathertail teased. “He’s a friendly face. And you also have Dovewing and Ivypool.”

Cinderheart flinched shuddering, and pain rushed through her again as she remembered the sight of her former apprentice lying unconscious in the medicine den, scorched and battle-wounded in ways that made no sense.

Heathertail noticed her reaction. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Ivypool was hurt in the fire,” Lionblaze whispered. “She stayed in the camp to rescue the elders who’d been trapped.”

“I’m so sorry!”

“She managed to save Patchpelt and Hollykit, but then she was trapped herself. The wounds are bad enough that they would have killed any other cat, but she survived, thanks to her immortality,” Lionblaze explained.

Heathertail lowered her head for a moment, as if mourning the injuries that had befallen the young warrior. Then her fur bristled and her head shot up. “Hollykit? You named one of your kits after your sister?”

“Yes, we did,” Cinderheart meowed. “We named our daughter after Hollyleaf, and we named our son Honeykit after my sister.”

“We really miss our littermates,” Lionblaze said sadly. “At least Honeyfern and Molepaw are here in StarClan.”

Heathertail narrowed her eyes. “It’s strange that you mention Hollyleaf, because a while ago, after you would have fought Tigerclaw and ShadowClan at the Thunderpath, I thought I smelled her scent mixed in with Ravenpaw and Cloudpaw’s.”

Lionblaze stared at her. “That can’t be right! Hollyleaf died in a tunnel collapsed. There’s no way StarClan would have sent her back to the past.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Heathertail sighed. “I just miss our time so much…and with you and Jayfeather here, it must have made me think of her.”

“I miss our time too,” Cinderheart mewed. “We all do. But it’s very likely that all the cats who are going to come back have been sent. Imagining that we’ve found old friends, or acquaintances, will only lead to more pain.”

*  *  *  *  *

Fireheart padded to where the ShadowClan medicine cat stood, surrounded by warriors and apprentices, all anxious to discover who ShadowClan’ s new leader was. He wondered how the old cat would react to hearing about Yellowfang’s death. Runningnose had seen so much death lately that perhaps it wouldn’t mean much to him anymore, but Fireheart felt he should break it to him privately, before he made an announcement from the Great Rock. After all, Yellowfang had trained Runningnose when she had been ShadowClan’ s medicine cat. The bond between the two cats must once have been very close, if only for the short time before Brokentail drove Yellowfang out of her Clan.

Fireheart signaled with his tail to the ShadowClan medicine cat. Runningnose looked relieved to be leaving the circle of inquiring faces as he followed Fireheart to a quieter spot beneath one of the oaks. “What is it?” he asked.

“Yellowfang’s dead,” Fireheart meowed gently, feeling a fresh thorn of sorrow drive itself into his heart.

Runningnose’s eyes clouded with grief. The gray-and-white tom bowed his head as Fireheart went on: “She died trying to save a Clanmate from the fire. StarClan will honor her bravery.”

Runningnose didn’t reply, just swung his head slowly from side to side. Fireheart felt his own throat tighten with sadness, but he couldn’t afford to let grief overwhelm him here. He touched the tom’s head with his nose and padded quickly away.

The rest of the cats were beginning to weave anxiously around one another, their mews growing louder. “We can’t wait any longer!” Fireheart heard a RiverClan warrior mutter to his neighbor. “The moon will be setting soon.”

“If this new leader is going to be late, that’s his problem,” Mousefur agreed. Fireheart knew the real reason for her keenness to get on with the meeting and return to camp. With Tigerclaw loose in the forest, none of the Clans were safe.

He saw a flash of white fur at the center of the clearing as Tallstar leaped onto the Great Rock. He had obviously decided to start the meeting without ShadowClan’s leader. Crookedstar started toward the rock. Fireheart braced himself, ready for his first Gathering at the head of his Clan, and desperate to warn the other cats about the threat that lurked in the woods.

“Good luck.” Fireheart felt Sandstorm’s breath ruffle his ear fur. He turned and gently touched her warm cheek with his muzzle, knowing that she would be supporting him the whole time. Then he threaded his way through the other cats toward the Great Rock.

He was stopped in his tracks by a yowl called from the slope behind him. “He’s here!”

Fireheart turned and saw Darkstripe craning his neck beside him, but their view was blocked by the other cats peering and rearing up on their hind legs to get a look at ShadowClan’s new leader as he passed through the crowd. Darkstripe ’s ears suddenly pricked with surprise. The striped warrior was staring up at the Great Rock, his eyes glittering with barely suppressed excitement. Fireheart twisted his head to see what had prompted such a strong reaction from his Clanmate.

Framed by the cold light of the moon, Fireheart saw the powerful shoulders and broad head of the cat who had leaped onto the rock beside Tallstar. The other leader seemed puny and frail beside this massive figure. Clawface had warned them about this already, but Fireheart hadn’t wanted to believe it until now. And with a cold shiver of dread, Fireheart realized that the new leader of ShadowClan truly was Tigerclaw.

Chapter Text

Fireheart’s fur bristled with disbelief and fury as he gazed up at the new leader of ShadowClan standing on the Great Rock. He watched as the cat swung his massive head from side to side. Muscles rippled under his gleaming pelt and his amber eyes seemed to glow with triumph.

“Tigerclaw!” Fireheart spat. It was true. His old enemy — the cat who had tried to kill him more than once — was now one of the most powerful cats in the forest.

The full moon rode high above Fourtrees, shedding its cold light over the cats of the four Clans, assembled there for the Gathering. They had all been shocked to learn of the death of Nightstar, the ShadowClan leader. But no cat in the forest had expected that ShadowClan’s new leader would be Tigerclaw, the former ThunderClan deputy. Even Stripestalk’s warning hadn’t prepared Fireheart for this.

Beside Fireheart, Darkstripe was rigid with excitement, his eyes glittering. Fireheart wondered what thoughts were going through the mind of his black-pelted Clan mate. When Tigerclaw had been banished from ThunderClan, he had invited his old friend to go with him, but Darkstripe had refused. Was he regretting that decision now?

Fireheart caught sight of Sandstorm weaving her way toward him. “What’s going on?” the pale ginger she-cat hissed as she came into earshot. “Tigerclaw can’t lead ShadowClan. He’s a traitor!”

For several heartbeats, Fireheart hesitated. Shortly after he had joined ThunderClan, Fireheart had discovered that Tigerclaw had murdered Redtail, the deputy. Once Tigerclaw became deputy himself, he had led rogue cats to attack the ThunderClan camp, trying to murder their leader, Bluestar, so that he could take her place. As punishment, he had been banished from their Clan and the forest. It was hardly a noble history for a leader of any Clan.

“But ShadowClan don’t know about all that,” Fireheart reminded Sandstorm now, keeping his voice low. “None of the other Clans know.”

“Then you should tell them!”

Fireheart glanced up at Tallstar and Crookedstar, the leaders of WindClan and RiverClan, respectively, who stood beside Tigerstar on the Great Rock. Would they listen if he told them what he knew? ShadowClan had suffered so much from Brokentail’s bloodthirsty leadership, followed by a devastating sickness, that they probably wouldn’t care what their new leader had done, as long as he could forge them into a strong Clan again.

Besides, Fireheart couldn’t help feeling a guilty relief that Tigerclaw had satisfied his hunger for power in a different Clan. Maybe now ThunderClan could stop waiting for him to attack, and Fireheart could walk the forest without constantly glancing over his shoulder.

Yet, as he struggled with his conflicting emotions, he knew that he would never forgive himself if he let Tigerclaw come to power without even making a protest.

“Fireheart!” He turned to see Cloudpaw, his long-furred white apprentice, padding quickly toward him with the wiry brown warrior Mousefur just behind. “Fireheart, are you just going to stand there and let that piece of fox dung take over?”

“Quiet, Cloudpaw,” Fireheart ordered. “I know. I’ll — ”

He broke off as Tigerclaw paced to the front of the Great Rock.

“I am pleased to be here with you at the Gathering this night.” The huge tabby spoke with quiet authority. “I stand here before you as the new leader of ShadowClan. Nightstar died of the sickness that took so many of my Clan, and StarClan have named me as his successor.”

Tallstar, the black-and-white leader of WindClan, turned to him. “Welcome, Tigerstar,” he meowed, nodding respectfully. “May StarClan walk with you.”

Crookedstar meowed agreement as the new ShadowClan leader dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“I thank you for your greetings,” Tigerstar replied. “It’s an honor to stand here with you, although I wish the circumstances could have been different.”

“Wait a moment,” Tallstar interrupted him. “There should be four of us here.” He peered down at the crowd of cats below. “Where’s the leader of ThunderClan?”

“Go on.” Fireheart felt a cat nudge him, and glanced around to see that Whitestorm had joined the other ThunderClan warriors. “You’re taking Bluestar’s place, remember?”

Fireheart nodded to him, suddenly unable to speak. He bunched his muscles and got ready to spring. A heartbeat later he was scrambling to the top of the Great Rock to stand beside the three leaders. For a moment the unfamiliar viewpoint took his breath away. He seemed to be far above the hollow, watching the changing patterns of light and dark on the cats below as the moon shone through the branches of the four massive oak trees. Fireheart shivered as he caught the pale gleam reflected from countless pairs of eyes.

“Fireheart?” He looked up as Tallstar spoke. “Why are you here? Has something happened to Bluestar?”

Fireheart dipped his head respectfully. “Our leader breathed smoke in the fire, and she’s not yet well enough to travel. But she’ll recover,” he added hastily. “It’s nothing serious.”

Tallstar nodded, and Crookedstar broke in testily, “Are we ever going to start? We’re wasting moonlight.”

Without waiting for a reply, the pale tabby RiverClan leader gave the yowl that signaled the beginning of the meeting. When the murmuring of the cats below had died away, he meowed, “Cats of all Clans, welcome to the Gathering. Tonight we are joined by a new leader, Tigerstar.” He beckoned to the massive warrior with a flick of his tail. “Tigerstar, are you ready to speak now?”

Thanking him with a courteous nod, Tigerstar stepped forward to address the assembled cats. “I stand here before you by the will of StarClan. Nightstar was a noble warrior, but he was old, and he did not have the strength to fight the sickness when it came. His deputy, Cinderfur, died too.”

Fireheart felt his fur prickling with unease as he listened. Clan leaders received nine lives when they went to share tongues with StarClan at Mothermouth, and Nightstar had become leader only a few seasons ago. What had happened to his nine lives? Had ShadowClan’s sickness been so violent that it had taken all of them?

Looking down, Fireheart caught sight of Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, sitting with his head bowed. Fireheart could not see his face, but his hunched posture suggested that he was lost in misery. It must be hard for him, Fireheart thought, to know that all his skill had not been enough to save his leader.

“StarClan brought me to ShadowClan when its need was greatest,” Tigerstar continued from on top of the Great Rock. “Not enough cats survived the sickness to hunt for the nursing queens and the elders, or to defend their clan, and no warrior was ready to take on the leadership. Then StarClan sent an omen to Runningnose that another great leader would arise. I swear by all our warrior ancestors that I will become that leader.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Fireheart noticed that Runningnose was shifting uncomfortably. For some reason he looked unhappy at the mention of the omen.

Fireheart suddenly realized that his own task had become much harder. If there had been an omen, then StarClan themselves must have chosen Tigerstar as the new leader of ShadowClan. Surely it was not the place of Fireheart or any other cat to question their decisions. What could he say now that would not seem to challenge the will of their warrior ancestors?

“Thanks to StarClan,” Tigerstar went on, “I had other cats to bring with me who have proven themselves willing to hunt and fight for their new Clan.”

Fireheart knew exactly which cats Tigerstar meant — the band of rogues who had attacked the ThunderClan camp! He could see one of them just below the Great Rock, a huge ginger tom, sitting with his tail curled around his paws. The last time Fireheart had seen him, he had been grappling with Brindleface, trying to break into the ThunderClan nursery, and before that, he had helped Brokentail kill Mistflow. Surge was glaring at him in fury, her yellow eyes gleaming. Ironically, some of these rogues had grown up in ShadowClan and had supported the tyrannical leader, Brokentail. They had been driven out with their leader when ThunderClan had come to the aid of the oppressed Clan.

Tallstar stepped forward, a doubtful look in his eyes. “Brokentail’s allies were cruel and bloodthirsty, just as he was. Is it really wise to let them back into the Clan?”

Fireheart could understand Tallstar’s misgivings, since these very cats had driven WindClan from their territory and had almost destroyed them. He wondered how many ShadowClan warriors shared his concern. After all, Brokentail’s own Clan had suffered almost as much as WindClan had from their murderous leader’s rule; he was surprised they would take the outlaws back.

“Brokentail’s warriors obeyed him,” Tigerstar replied calmly. “Which of you wouldn’t do the same for your own leader? The warrior code says that a leader’s word is law.” He swiped his tongue around his muzzle before continuing. “These cats were loyal to Brokentail. They will be loyal to me now. Stripestalk, who has has shown an unmatched loyalty to ShadowClan, is my deputy now.”

Stripestalk is deputy? That meant that ShadowClan had two former ThunderClan cats in its roles of power. Why didn’t she tell us?

Tallstar still looked suspicious, but Tigerstar met his gaze steadily. “Tallstar, you are right to hate Brokentail. He did great harm to your Clan. But let me remind you that it was not my decision to take him into ThunderClan and care for him. I spoke against that from the first, but when Bluestar insisted on giving him sanctuary, loyalty to my leader meant that I had to support her.”

The WindClan leader hesitated and then bowed his head. “That’s true,” he meowed.

“Then all I ask is that you trust me, and give my warriors a chance to show that they can honor the warrior code, and prove their loyalty to ShadowClan once more. With the help of StarClan, my first task is to make ShadowClan well and strong again,” Tigerstar vowed.

Perhaps, Fireheart thought hopefully, now that Tigerstar had achieved his ambition, he really would become a great leader. He had said that the outlaws deserved another chance; perhaps the same was true of Tigerstar himself. Yet every hair in Fireheart’s pelt was prickling. He still wanted to make it clear to Tigerstar that ThunderClan was not his for the taking.

He was so deep in thought that he hardly realized that Tigerstar had finished addressing the assembled Clans and was startled by a furious yowl from Robinpaw.

“You fox-hearted, mangy piece of crowfood! How dare you take advantage of an innocent Clan like that!”

Tigerstar looked as startled as Fireheart felt. “Excuse me?” he asked, his voice mildly offended.

“I know all about your history!” Robinpaw yowled. “I know exactly how you gained power in both Clans, and you don’t deserve to be leader in either one of them!” A heartbeat later, Brindleface had crossed the hollow and silenced her apprentice with her tail across her muzzle. She whispered something in Robinpaw’s ear.

Crookedstar frowned. “Who is this young cat?”

Still shaken, Fireheart muttered, “She’s one of ours.”

“Fireheart?” Tallstar meowed. “Do you want to speak now?”

Fireheart swallowed nervously and padded forward, the rock cool and smooth beneath his paws. Below, he could see Sandstorm and the other ThunderClan cats looking up at him expectantly; the pale ginger she-cat was watching him with a glow of admiration in her eyes.

Feeling encouraged, Fireheart began to speak. He wasn’t going to pretend that the ThunderClan camp had not been devastated by the recent fire, but he did not want to give the impression that the Clan was weak. Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy, was listening intently. As Fireheart glanced at her she narrowed her eyes as if she were measuring his words carefully. RiverClan had helped ThunderClan escape from the fire, and no cat knew better than Leopardfur how vulnerable they were.

“A few dawns ago,” Fireheart reported, “fire started in the Treecut place and swept through our camp. Halftail died, and the Clan honors him. And we especially honor Yellowfang. She went back into the burning camp to rescue Ivypool.” He bowed his head, memories of the old medicine cat threatening to overwhelm him. “I found her in her den, and I was with her when she died.”

Wails of dismay broke out among the listening cats. Not only ThunderClan had reason to grieve for Yellowfang’s death. Fireheart noticed Runningnose sitting erect and gazing upward, his eyes clouded with sorrow. He had been Yellowfang’s apprentice when she was ShadowClan’s medicine cat, before Brokentail drove her out.

“Our new medicine cat will be Cinderpelt,” Fireheart went on. “Bluestar suffered from breathing in smoke, but she is recovering. None of our kits were harmed. We are rebuilding our camp.” He did not mention the shortage of prey in the burned stretch of forest, or the way that the camp was still open to attack in spite of their efforts to rebuild the walls. “We must thank RiverClan,” he added, with a respectful glance at Crookedstar. “They gave us shelter in their camp during the fire. Without their help, more of our cats might have died.

“After the fire, we were joined by cats who wished to be a part of ThunderClan and to help us rebuild. They are kin to Healer and have already shown great loyalty and compassion. ThunderClan welcomes the new warrior Surge, and Redpaw and Robinpaw have begun their training under Frostfur and Brindleface,” Fireheart finished.

Cheers erupted from all four Clans. “Surge! Redpaw! Robinpaw!” Surge ignored the cheers, still glaring at the ginger tom. Meanwhile, Redpaw and Robinpaw basked in the welcomes.

As Crookedstar acknowledged his words with a nod, Fireheart couldn’t resist glancing down at Leopardfur again. The RiverClan deputy hadn’t shifted her amber gaze from him.

Pausing to take a deep breath, Fireheart turned to Tigerstar. “ThunderClan accepts that StarClan has approved your leadership,” he meowed. “As rogues, your followers stole from all four Clans while they roamed the forest, so it is good that they have their own Clan again. We trust that they will be bound by the warrior code and will keep to their own territory.” He thought he could see a gleam of surprise in Tigerstar’s eyes, and continued firmly, “But we will not tolerate any invasions into ThunderClan territory. In spite of the fire, we are strong enough to drive out any cat who sets a paw over our borders. We have no fear of ShadowClan.”

One or two yowls of agreement rose from his own warriors below. Tigerstar gave a slight dip of his head, and spoke in a low rumble that carried no farther than the other cats on top of the Great Rock. “Brave words, Fireheart. You have nothing to fear from ShadowClan.”

Fireheart wished that he could believe him. Bowing his head in acknowledgment, he stepped back again, his fur flattening in relief that his turn to speak was over, and listened while Tallstar and Crookedstar gave the news from their own Clans — word of new apprentices and warriors, and a warning of extra Twolegs by the river.

When the formal part of the meeting was over, Fireheart sprang down to the group of ThunderClan warriors at the base of the rock.

“You spoke well,” meowed Whitestorm. Sandstorm’s eyes shone as she looked at Fireheart, and she pressed her muzzle against his neck.

Fireheart gave her cheek a quick lick. “It’s time to go,” he meowed. “Say your good-byes, and if any cat asks, tell them that ThunderClan is doing fine.”

Throughout the clearing, the groups of cats were breaking up as all four Clans prepared to leave. Fireheart began looking around for the rest of his warriors. He caught sight of a familiar blue-gray shape and bounded across the hollow to join her.

“Hi, Mistyfoot,” he meowed. “How are you? How’s Graystripe? I didn’t see him here tonight.”

Graystripe had been Fireheart’s first friend in ThunderClan; they had trained together as apprentices.

But then Graystripe had fallen in love with Silverstream, a young RiverClan warrior, and she had briefly died bearing his kits. Graystripe had left his own Clan to go with them to RiverClan, and though seasons had passed, Fireheart still missed him.

“Graystripe didn’t come.” The RiverClan queen sat down and curled her tail neatly around her paws. “Leopardfur wouldn’t let him. She was furious about the way he behaved during the fire. She says that in his heart, he’s still loyal to ThunderClan.”

Fireheart had to admit that Leopardfur was probably right. Graystripe had already asked Bluestar if he could come back to ThunderClan, but she had refused. “So how is he?” Fireheart repeated.

“He’s fine,” Mistyfoot meowed. “So are the kits. He asked me to find out how you were doing after the fire. Bluestar’s not seriously ill, you say?”

“No, she’ll be better soon.” Fireheart tried to sound confident. Hopefully it was true that Bluestar was recovering from the effects of breathing smoke, but she had overextended herself in the rebuilding of the camp, and the medicine cats had forced her to stay back at camp. Still, Fireheart couldn’t help worrying about how she would react to the news that the deputy she had exiled was now leader of ShadowClan.

“I’m glad to hear that she is recovering.” Mistyfoot’s mew broke into his thoughts.

Fireheart twitched his ears. “How’s Crookedstar?” he asked, changing the subject. The RiverClan leader had seemed frail when he had allowed ThunderClan to shelter in his camp, and tonight, next to Tigerstar, he looked even older than Fireheart remembered. But maybe that wasn’t surprising. The RiverClan leader had had to cope with floods that had driven his cats out of their camp and with a shortage of prey because Twoleg rubbish had poisoned the river. More than all that, Graystripe’s beloved Silverstream had been Crookedstar’s daughter, and her temporary death had caused him much grief.

“He’s okay,” meowed Mistyfoot. “He’s been through a lot recently. Mind you, I’m more concerned about Graypool,” she added, naming the cat who had raised her from kithood. “She seems so old now. I’m afraid she’ll go to StarClan soon. Swansoar is especially upset.”

Fireheart would have liked to give the young queen a comforting lick, but he was not sure how the RiverClan cat would take that from a cat of another Clan. Apart from Graypool, Fireheart was the only cat who knew that the frail RiverClan elder was not the real mother of Mistyfoot and Mosslight and their brother, Stonefur. Their father, Oakheart, had brought them to RiverClan when they were tiny kits, and Graypool had agreed to take care of them alongside her surviving son Swansoar. Their real mother was Bluestar.

As Fireheart murmured sympathetically and said his good-byes to Mistyfoot, he couldn’t help feeling that trouble was still in store for both Clans because of Bluestar’s secret.

*  *  *  *  *

Minnowtail was the only other time traveler to attend this Gathering. Mossyfoot and Longpaw had not been selected this time, and Tigerstar had forced Redwillow and Scorchfur to remain behind, according to Whitethroat, who had quickly passed on the information before scurrying back to his Clanmates.

While the leaders spoke, the time travelers planned. “This is bad!” Minnowtail hissed. “Tigerstar is the leader of ShadowClan now, which means that it’s only a matter of time before he forms TigerClan!”

“But what can we do about it?” Cinderheart murmured. “There’s only so much we’re allowed to change.”

“So much has changed without us,” Minnowtail pointed out. “Mosslight and Swansoar were dead in our timeline, and they were born at a time when there were no time travelers here. What changed?”

Lionblaze frowned. “Something tells me that there’s a bigger plan at play here.”

Heathertail looked directly at Minnowtail. “You have to tell RiverClan exactly what Tigerstar is up to. We’ve all heard the stories about what comes next. If we all stay silent, then there will be many cats who die, and we can’t let that happen.”

“I can try,” Minnowtail sighed. “But I’m worried. ShadowClan supported Tigerstar so whole-heartedly last time. What if no one can sway them?”

“Whitethroat is already on our side,” Lionblaze pointed out. “And Scorchfur and Redwillow will fight with all their strength to make sure Tigerdung does not succeed this time.”

*  *  *  *  *

The sky was growing pale with the first light of dawn when Fireheart and his warriors returned to the ThunderClan camp. Although Fireheart knew what he would find, it was still a shock to reach the top of the ravine and gaze down at the devastation. All the covering of gorse and fern had been stripped away by the fire. The earth floor of the camp was left exposed, surrounded by the blackened remains of the wall of thornbushes that was shored up with branches where the Clan cats had begun to repair it.

“Will it ever be the same?” Sandstorm meowed softly as she came to stand beside him.

A wave of exhaustion flooded over Fireheart as he thought of how much time and work it would take before the camp was fully rebuilt. “One day,” he promised. “We’ve been through bad times before. We’ll survive.” He pressed his muzzle against Sandstorm’s flank, taking comfort from her reassuring purr, before he led the way down the ravine.

The bush where the warriors slept was still there, but the thick canopy of twigs had been burned away. Only a few charred branches remained, the gaps between them interwoven with sticks. Brackenfur was crouched outside, while Longtail sat on watch near the entrance to the nursery, and Dustpelt paced back and forth in front of the elders’ den.

Brackenfur sprang to his paws as Fireheart and the others appeared, only to relax a moment later. “It’s you,” he meowed, relief in his voice. “We’ve been expecting Tigerclaw all night.”

“Well, you can stop worrying,” Fireheart meowed. “He’s too busy to worry about us. Tigerstar is the new leader of ShadowClan.”

Brackenfur stared in astonishment. “Great StarClan!” he said with a gasp. “I don’t believe it!”

“ What did you say?” Fireheart turned to see Longtail loping across the clearing. “Did I hear you right?”

“You did.” Fireheart could see the shock in the tabby warrior’s face. “Tigerstar has taken over ShadowClan.”

“And they let him?” meowed Longtail. “Are they mad?”

“Not mad at all,” Whitestorm replied, coming up to stand beside Fireheart. The elderly warrior scraped the bare earth with his paws and settled down on his haunches with a tired sigh. His thick white fur was stained with soot after the journey back through the forest. “The sickness almost destroyed the ShadowClan cats. They were desperate for a strong leader. Tigerstar must have seemed like a gift from StarClan.”

“It sounds like that’s just what he was,” Fireheart agreed heavily. “Apparently StarClan sent an omen to Runningnose to tell ShadowClan that a great leader would arise.”

“But Tigerstar is a traitor!” Brackenfur protested.

“ShadowClan don’t know that,” Fireheart pointed out.

By this time other cats were appearing. Brightpaw and Swiftblade ran over from the apprentices’ den; Dustpelt padded up with his apprentice, Ashpaw; Speckletail peered curiously out from the nursery.

As they pressed around Fireheart with their questions, he had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

“Listen, all of you,” he meowed. “There’s something you need to hear.” And I have to tell Bluestar, he added silently, bracing himself for the encounter. “Whitestorm will tell you what happened at the Gathering,” he went on, “and then I want a dawn patrol.” He hesitated, looking around at the assembled cats. All the warriors were tired; those who hadn’t been to the Gathering had stayed awake to guard the camp.

Before Fireheart could decide who to send, Dustpelt spoke. “Ashpaw and I will go.”

Fireheart dipped his head gratefully. The brown warrior had never been friendly toward him, but he was a loyal cat to ThunderClan, and he seemed to accept Fireheart’s authority as deputy.

“I’ll go too,” Mousefur offered.

“And me,” meowed Cloudpaw.

Fireheart let out a purr of appreciation at his apprentice’s words. He was pleased that his sister’s son was working harder for the Clan and showing more commitment to Clan life, after the disastrous episode when he was taken away by Twolegs and had to be rescued. “Dustpelt, Mousefur, Cloudpaw, and Ashpaw, then,” he meowed. “The rest of you get some sleep. We’ll need hunting patrols later on.”

“Ooh! Can I go?” Robinpaw begged.

Brindleface flicked her shoulder with her tail. “You haven’t even had one training session yet,” she reminded her apprentice.

“That’s not true!” Robinpaw protested. “Ho-Healer and Cavern trained all of us in their skills!”

“Healer isn’t a warrior,” Brindleface chided gently. “She doesn’t know how ThunderClan fights.”

That’s something you’re very wrong about, Fireheart thought, faintly amused, though he was worried that Robinpaw would keep protesting and spill Hollyleaf’s secret. The young she-cat’s face was mutinous.

“Come on!” Redpaw hissed at his sister. “You know we’re not supposed to talk about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be treated like a stupid kit who doesn’t know anything.”

“You’ll prove yourself soon enough,” he told her quietly. “Until then, try to think before you say anything impulsive. If Lionblaze or Jayfeather find out…” He trailed off, but Fireheart could guess what he’d left unsaid. If Lionblaze or Jayfeather find out, they’ll go after Hollyleaf before she’s supposed to come back to ThunderClan.

“What about you?” asked Darkstripe, his eyes narrowed at the deputy.

Fireheart took a deep breath. “I’m going to speak to Bluestar.”

The curtain of lichen had been burned away from the entrance to Bluestar’s den at the base of the Highrock. As Fireheart approached, Cinderpelt, Thunderclan’s medicine cat, emerged into the clearing and paused to stretch. Her dark gray fur was ruffled, and she looked worn out from the strain of caring for the Clan in the aftermath of the fire, but the strength of her spirit still shone in her blue eyes. Fireheart was reminded of the time when she had been his eager apprentice, until she had been lured too close to the Thunderpath, in a trap which Tigerclaw had set for Bluestar. The young cat’s leg had been permanently injured so she had chosen to become a medicine cat, but she had always kept her commitment to serving her Clan.

Fireheart padded up to her. “How is Bluestar today?” he asked quietly.

Cinderpelt cast a annoyed glance back into the den. “She’s restless,” she replied. “She wasn’t amused that Jayfeather and I kept her here.”

“I need to tell her what happened at the Gathering,” Fireheart meowed. “And she’s not going to like that she missed it.”

Cinderpelt’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

As quickly as he could, Fireheart told her.

Cinderpelt listened in shocked silence, her blue eyes wide with amazement. “What will you do?” she asked when Fireheart had finished.

“There isn’t much I can do. Besides, it could be a good thing for ThunderClan. Tigerstar’s got what he wants now, and with any luck he’s going to be far too busy working his new Clan into shape to bother about us.” Seeing that Cinderpelt looked disbelieving, he added hastily, “Who they choose for leader is ShadowClan’s business. We’ll have to keep a watch on our borders, but I don’t believe Tigerstar will be much of a threat, for a while, at least. I’m wondering how Bluestar is going to take it.”

“This is going to worry her,” Cinderpaw meowed anxiously. “I only hope I can receive some guidance from StarClan. I wish Yellowfang were here.”

“I know.” Fireheart pressed himself comfortingly against Cinderpelt’s side. “But you’ll be fine. You’re a great medicine cat.”

“It’s not just that.” Cinderpelt’s voice dropped to a painful whisper. “I miss her, Fireheart! I keep waiting for her to tell me I haven’t the sense of a newborn kit — at least when she praised me, I knew she really meant it. I want her, Fireheart — her scent and the feel of her fur and the sound of her voice.”

“I know,” Fireheart murmured. He felt an emptiness inside as memories of the old cat flooded over him. He had been very close to Yellowfang, ever since he had discovered her living as a rogue in ThunderClan territory. “But she hunts with StarClan now.”

And perhaps she had found peace at last, he reflected, as he remembered the torment in Yellowfang’s voice as she died thinking of her son, Brokentail — the murderous cat she had never stopped loving, even though he had grown up without knowing she was his mother. In the end she had killed him to save her adopted Clan from his bloodthirsty scheming. Yellowfang’s pain was at an end, but Fireheart could not imagine that he would ever stop missing her.

“Jayfeather is here still. I’m sure he’d insult you for her if you wanted him to.”

She snorted. “Those two were much too similar. Jayfeather’s more irritable than ever right now.”

“You go to Highstones soon, don’t you?” he reminded Cinderpelt. “To meet the other medicine cats? I think you’ll feel very close to Yellowfang then.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Cinderpelt pushed away from him. “I can just hear Yellowfang now,” she meowed. ‘“Why are you standing around moaning when there’s work to be done?’ You go and talk to Bluestar. I’ll look in on her again a bit later on.”

“If you’re sure you’re okay,” mewed Fireheart.

“I’m fine.” Cinderpelt gave his ear a quick lick. “Be strong for her, Fireheart,” she urged. “She needs you more than ever.”

Fireheart watched the medicine cat as she limped rapidly away, and then turned toward Bluestar’s den. Taking a deep breath, he called a greeting and entered through the gap where the lichen used to grow.

Bluestar was crouched on a pile of bedding at the back of the cave, her forepaws tucked under her chest. Her head was raised, but she was not looking at Fireheart. Instead her blue eyes were thoughtful, fixed on something far away that only she could see. Her pelt was neatly washed, as though she had woken early to make sure she was presentable.

“Bluestar?” Fireheart meowed hesitantly.

At first he thought that Bluestar had not heard him. Then, as he padded farther into the den, she turned her head. Her thoughtful blue gaze focused on him.

Then her ears pricked. “Fireheart? What do you want?”

Fireheart dipped his head respectfully. “I’m just back from the Gathering, Bluestar. I’m afraid there’s bad news.” He paused.

“Well?” Bluestar sounded concerned. “What is it?”

“ShadowClan has a new leader,” Fireheart meowed. He plunged straight on. “It’s Tigerclaw — Tigerstar now.”

In an instant, Bluestar leaped to her paws. Her eyes blazed cold fire, and Fireheart flinched at the sight of the formidable cat who had trained him. “That’s impossible!” she hissed.

“No, it’s true. I saw him myself. He spoke from the Great Rock, with the other leaders.”

For a few moments Bluestar did not reply. She paced from one side of the den to the other and back again, her tail lashing. Fireheart backed toward the entrance, not at all sure that Bluestar wouldn’t attack him for bringing this terrible news.

“How dare Tigerclaw do this?” she spat at last. “How dare he take advantage of cats who were sick and helpless — and make himself their leader!”

“Bluestar, they don’t know — ” Fireheart began, but the ThunderClan leader was not listening to him.

“And the other leaders?” she demanded. “What did they think?”

“No cat besides the time travelers knows what Tigerstar did to ThunderClan. Even Jayfeather only hinted at him being a terrible cat, but he respected you enough to not give specifics,” Fireheart reminded Bluestar. “Crookedstar didn’t say much, although Tallstar was unhappy at first that Tigerstar had taken Brokentail’s old followers back into the Clan.”

“Tallstar,” Bluestar sighed. “I imagine it was difficult for him to know that cats who caused his Clan so much pain now reside in the forest again.”

Fireheart shrugged. “He decided that if they promised to follow the warrior code, he would trust Tigerstar.”

Bluestar frowned. “StarClan was foolish to entrust Tigerstar as leader,” she meowed, still pacing furiously. “Even if the living Clans don’t know about Tigerstar’s treachery, StarClan does.”

Fireheart flinched. “Bluestar, listen — ”

“No, Fireheart, you listen.” Bluestar padded over to him. Her fur was fluffed up and her teeth bared in anger. “ThunderClan must be prepared. Tigerstar will lead ShadowClan to destroy us all — and we don’t know if we can expect help from StarClan.”

“Tigerstar didn’t seem hostile.” Fireheart was desperately trying to get through to his leader. “When he spoke, all he seemed to care about was leading his new Clan.”

Bluestar let out a crack of harsh laughter. “Do you really believe that, Fireheart? Tigerstar will be here before leaf-fall; you mark my words. But he’ll find us waiting for him. ThunderClan won’t sit back and let him win.”

She looked at him thoughtfully.

“Keep things as they are,” she ordered. “Let the patrols go on as they have been, but make sure that every cat is ready for whatever Tigerstar might try.”

“You can trust me,” Fireheart promised. “You can trust all of us. We might be exhausted from rebuilding the camp, but ThunderClan will be ready.”

The leader relaxed. “I know, Fireheart. You’ve always been loyal, just like those others.” Tilting her head, she added, “Stripestalk most of all. She doing something incredibly dangerous so that she might help all of us.”

With a start, Fireheart remembered the other piece of news he had neglected to mention. “Tigerstar made Stripestalk his deputy.”

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “That was incredibly bold of him.”

“He said that she’d proven how deep her loyalty to ShadowClan was.” Fireheart meowed. “After what Nighthunter did to her…maybe they think she was buying them time to escape.”

“Instead of refusing to fight her own mother,” Bluestar finished for him. “It’s certainly possible she’s endeared herself to them. If I had to guess, I’d assume Stripestalk cares more about the good of ShadowClan than Tigerstar does. She always was sensitive to the pain of other cats. It’s why she trained as both a warrior and a medicine cat.”

Fireheart nodded. “I didn’t know Clan cats did that…besides Healer.”

“Healer is a special case,” Bluestar pointed out. “She had to change her path because of where she was sent.”

“And now her adopted daughter and grandkids have come to join us,” Fireheart told her. “Robinpaw wanted to join the dawn patrol, but Brindleface told her she needed to get some training first.”

Bluestar laughed. “Tell the cats who are not on patrols to get some rest,” she ordered, sinking down in the soft moss and heather. “They will need their strength.”

“Of course,” he meowed. “Let me just check on the kits first.”

“That includes you, Fireheart,” Bluestar said pointedly. “I know how much you like to worry, but the first responsibility to the Clan falls on my shoulders. Right now, it is time for you to get some sleep, to regain your energy.”

“Yes, Bluestar.” Fireheart saw no point in arguing any more. He bowed his head and backed out of the den. Bluestar’s gaze was thoughtful once again. He wondered if she was trying to think of a way to beat Tigerstar once and for all. Whatever was going through his leader’s mind, he knew she hadn’t given up, and he wouldn’t do so either.

Chapter Text

Fireheart opened his eyes and blinked in the uncomfortably bright sunlight. He still couldn’t get used to the way the sun shone straight into the warriors’ den now that the thick covering of leaves had gone. Yawning, he uncurled himself and shook the clinging scraps of moss from his coat.

Close beside him, Sandstorm was still asleep; having been that way when he’d come to the den, so he had no idea if she’d visited the medicine cats or not. Dustpelt and Darkstripe were curled up a little farther away. Fireheart padded out into the clearing. It was three days since the Gathering and the discovery of Tigerstar’s new leadership, and there was still no sign of the attack they all suspected. ThunderClan had used the time to rebuild the camp, and although there was still a long way to go, Fireheart couldn’t help feeling pleased when he saw shady walls of fern beginning to grow back around the edge of the camp, and the bramble thicket firmly interlaced with twigs to shelter the nursing queens and their kits.

As Fireheart made his way toward the pile of fresh-kill, he saw the dawn patrol returning with Whitestorm in the lead. Fireheart paused and waited for the white warrior to join him.

“Any sign of ShadowClan?”

Whitestorm shook his head. “Nothing,” he meowed. “Just the usual scent markings along their border. There was one thing, though. ...”

Fireheart’s ears pricked. “What?”

“Not far from Snakerocks we found a whole stretch of undergrowth trampled down, and pigeon feathers scattered all over it.”

“Pigeon feathers?” Fireheart echoed. “I haven’t seen a pigeon for days. Is some other Clan hunting in our territory?”

“I don’t think so. The whole place reeked of dog.” Whitestorm wrinkled his nose with distaste. “There was dog dirt there too.”

“Oh, a dog.” Fireheart flicked his tail dismissively. “Well, we all know that Twolegs are always bringing their dogs into the forest. They run around, chase a few squirrels, and then the Twolegs take them home again.” He let out a purr of amusement. “The only unusual thing is that it looks as if this one caught something.”

To his surprise, Whitestorm continued to look serious. “All the same, I think you should tell the patrols to keep their eyes open,” he meowed.

“Okay.” Fireheart respected the older warrior too much to ignore his advice, but privately he thought the dog would be a long way away by now, shut up somewhere in Twolegplace. Dogs were noisy nuisances, but he had more important things to worry about.

“Did you say ‘dog’?” Dovewing demanded, ducking her head out of the medicine den. Ashpaw crossed the clearing and entered the medicine den in her place. Fireheart was surprised to see her coming to speak about Clan matters. She had spent most of her time there or by the nursery. He’d seen her with Brackenfur and Snowkit, working out some kind of special communication system that seemed to mix paw stomps and tail signals. Occasionally the other kits were invited too, and he knew the apprentices had been watching with interest.

He didn’t understand why they needed a special new communication system, but perhaps it would be beneficial for thwarting any of Tigerstar’s plans. If the dark warrior didn’t know what they were saying, he couldn’t stop them.

“Greetings, Dovewing,” Whitestorm purred. “It’s good to see you taking an interest in Clan matters.”

She frowned. “This isn’t just any Clan matter,” she told him. “That dog scent you found belongs to a bloodthirsty pack. In our time, we’ve all heard stories about how the dogs took up residence at Snakerocks. Since Bluestar wasn’t in her right mind and refused to make the oldest apprentices warriors, Swiftpaw and Brightpaw tried to prove they were ready. But when they went to find the dogs, Swiftpaw was killed and Brightpaw lost most of her face.”

Fireheart went rigid. “So these dogs are a threat.”

“Even more so once Tigerstar figures out they’re here,” Dovewing warned. “He left a trail of rabbits straight to camp along with…incentive to encourage the dogs to switch their appetites from rabbits to Clans.”

“How long do we have to prepare?” Whitestorm asked her.

“I’m not entirely,” she admitted. “I do know that there must be at least two more Gatherings because Tigerstar will demand his kits be given over to him, and Bramblekit and Tawnykit, and I guess Hollykit and Honeykit too, will be apprentices by then.”

Why did she leave out Snowkit? The young cat was close enough in age to the others that he would likely begin his training at the same time as them.

“Is there anything we can do about it right now?” Whitestorm prompted, distracting Fireheart from his dark thoughts.

Dovewing shook her head. “These dogs aren’t the kind that any cat can fight, and I’m pretty sure the only way to deal with them is to trick them into the gorge like you did before.”

“Then we leave them be for now,” Fireheart decided. “We’ll keep an eye on the situation, but as long as they don’t try to do anything to us, we won’t go after them either. I don’t fancy trying to draw them toward the gorge if they’re at Snakerocks anyway.”

Nodding mildly, Dovewing headed towards the nursery, stomping her paw on the ground twice as she did so. Fireheart recognized its meaning, having seen it a couple times before. A friend is here. Time to learn.

Not a heartbeat later, all eight kits swarmed out of the nursery and surrounded her in an excited circle. Fireheart purred in amusement at the sight, glad to see that Willowpelt’s kits were joining in.

He was reminded of his anxiety about food supplies as he followed Whitestorm to the pile of fresh-kill. Brightpaw, Whitestorm’s apprentice, and Cloudpaw, who had made up the rest of the patrol, were already there.

“Look at this!” Cloudpaw complained as Fireheart came up. He turned a vole over with one paw. “There’s hardly a decent mouthful on it!”

“Prey is scarce,” Fireheart reminded him, noticing there were only a few pieces of fresh-kill on the pile. “Any creatures that survived the fire can’t find much to eat.”

“We need to hunt again,” Cloudpaw meowed. He bit into the vole and swallowed. “I’ll go as soon as I’ve finished this.”

“You can come with me,” mewed Fireheart, selecting a magpie for himself. “I’m going to lead out a patrol later on.”

“No, I can’t wait,” Cloudpaw mumbled through another mouthful. “I’m so hungry I could eat you. Brightpaw, do you want to come with me?”

Brightpaw, who was neatly tucking into a mouse, glanced at her mentor for permission. When Whitestorm nodded she sprang up. “Ready when you are,” she meowed.

“All right then,” mewed Fireheart. He was slightly annoyed that Cloudpaw hadn’t asked for his mentor’s permission like Brightpaw, but the Clan did need fresh-kill, and both the apprentices were good hunters. “Don’t go too far from camp,” he warned.

“But all the best prey is farther away, where the fire didn’t reach,” Cloudpaw objected. “We’ll be fine, Fireheart,” he promised. “We’ll hunt for the elders first.”

Swallowing the last of his vole in one enormous gulp, he dashed off toward the camp entrance with Brightpaw racing after him.

“Stay away from Twolegplace!” Fireheart called after them, remembering how Cloudpaw had once been all too fond of visiting the Twolegs. The apprentice had paid a harsh price when they had taken him away to their nest on the far side of WindClan’s territory. As greenleaf drew to an end, with the prospect of a hungry leaf-bare to come, Fireheart hoped that his apprentice wouldn’t be tempted back into his old ways.

“Apprentices!” Whitestorm purred as he watched the two young cats bounding away. “Dawn patrol, and now they’re off hunting. I wish I had their energy.” He dragged a blackbird a little way from the pile of fresh-kill and crouched down to eat.

As Fireheart finished his magpie, he saw Sandstorm padding across from the warriors’ den. The sun shone on her pale ginger coat, and Fireheart admired the ripple of his mate’s fur as she moved. “Do you want to come and hunt with me?” he asked as she approached.

“Looks as if we need it,” Sandstorm replied, surveying the pitifully few pieces of fresh-kill that remained. “Let’s go now — I can wait to eat until we catch something. Tulippaw’s helping Jayfeather collect herbs. And I do need to talk to you about something.”

“Can we talk after we hunt?” Fireheart asked tentatively. “The more cats we have, the better.”

Sandstorm nodded. “It can wait a little longer. Just don’t try to put it off.”

Fireheart looked around for another cat to join them and noticed Longtail heading for the warriors’ den, calling for Swiftblade and Lightfrost. “Hey, Longtail!” he meowed as the three cats padded across the clearing. “Come and join our hunting patrol.”

Longtail hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure whether that was an order from his deputy or not. “We were going to the training hollow,” he explained. “Swiftblade and Lightfrost were going to help Thornpaw and Brightpaw practice their defense moves for their assessments, and I was going to give them some advice.”

“He’ll have to do that later,” Fireheart said apologetically. “Cloudpaw and Brightpaw just left and went hunting. The Clan needs fresh-kill first.”

Longtail flicked his tail and nodded but said nothing. Swiftblade was looking more enthusiastic, his eyes bright. The young black-and-white tom had grown almost as big as his mentor, Fireheart noticed; he had become a warrior just a few moons ago, and he could expect his fellow apprentices to be made warriors soon.

I must talk to Bluestar about a naming ceremony, Fireheart thought. Brightpaw and Thornpaw. The Clan needs more warriors.

Leaving Whitestorm to take a well-earned rest, Fireheart led his hunting party out of the camp and up the ravine. At the top, he turned toward Sunningrocks. Doing his best to carry out Bluestar’s order about doubling the patrols, he had instructed all the hunting parties to do border duty as well, staying alert for other Clans’ scents or any other signs of an enemy presence. In particular, he had warned them to keep a careful watch on the ShadowClan border, but privately he resolved not to neglect RiverClan.

He had an uneasy feeling about their relationship with ThunderClan. With Crookedstar growing old, his deputy, Leopardfur, would have more authority, and Fireheart still expected her to ask for something in return for RiverClan’s help on the night of the fire.

As Fireheart led the way toward the river, he noticed plants pushing their way up through the blackened soil. New ferns were beginning to uncoil and green tendrils spread out to cover the earth. The forest was beginning to recover, but as leaf-fall approached, growth would slow down. Fireheart was still worried that his Clan was heading for a cold and comfortless leaf-bare.

When they reached Sunningrocks, Longtail led Swiftblade into one of the gullies between the rocks.

“You can practice listening for mice and voles,” he told his former apprentice. “See if you can catch something before the rest of us.”

Fireheart watched them go cheerfully. The pale tabby warrior had been a conscientious mentor, and a strong bond had grown between him and Swiftblade that remained even though the black-and-white tom was a warrior. Lightfrost disappeared behind a rise to track a mouse.

Fireheart skirted the rocks on the side that faced the river, where more of the grass and foliage had survived. It was not long before he spotted a mouse scuffling among some brittle grass stems. As it sat up, nibbling a seed clasped in its forepaws, Fireheart sprang and finished it off swiftly.

“Good work,” Sandstorm murmured, padding up to him.

“Do you want it?” Fireheart asked, pushing the fresh-kill toward her with one paw. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thanks,” meowed Sandstorm cheerfully. “And I think now’s a good time to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Fireheart asked, confused. “Did you visit Jayfeather and Cinderpelt last night? Are you all right?”

Sandstorm silenced him by pressing her muzzle to his. He stopped in surprise and looked at her. “I’m fine, stupid furball.”

“Then what is it? What’s going on?”

She didn’t answer right away, but a massive smile split her face. “Fireheart, I’m expecting kits!”

“Really?” he gasped in shock. “Are they mine?”

“No, they’re Tigerstar’s. Of course they’re yours, Fireheart!” she snorted. “We’re going to have kits!”

“Oh, StarClan, that’s amazing!” Fireheart purred. “Sandstorm, thank you!”

She gazed at him. “We did this together,” she reminded him.

“Yes, we did, but you chose me. You chose to be mates with me.”

“I did choose you, Fireheart, and I will always choose you,” she purred.

“We’re going to be parents!”

Sandstorm laughed. “I knew you’d be this excited. You’ve always been so good with the kits, even as an apprentice.”

He shrugged. “Young cats have so much energy and spirit. Anyway, did the medicine cats say when they’ll be born?”

“They both said that it was really early for me to even start feeling them and they were really surprised,” she admitted. “Jayfeather guessed it would be before the older kits are made apprentices, but not by much.”

“Then there will be a lot of kits in the nursery,” Fireheart mewed, amused. “What are you planning to do Tulippaw?”

She sighed. “I’m going to keep training him for as long as I can. Cinderheart was still going on patrols basically until she had her kits, and by that point, he’ll be nearly ready for his warrior name.”

“And if he’s still training by then, do you know what you’ll do with him then?”

Clearly surprised, she meowed, “Wouldn’t it be better to ask Bluestar about this?”

He shook his head. “I’d rather ask you about this. Tulippaw is your apprentice, and besides his littermates and Brindleface, you know him better than any cat in the Clan. Who do you think would be best suited to finish the remainder of his training?”

Sandstorm looked pleased and thoughtful. “If Stripestalk were here, I would suggest her. But since she’s not, maybe Sweetmint? She hasn’t had an apprentice since before I was kitted, but I know she trained Nighthunter, and they’re both excellent warriors.”

“If you think Sweetmint would be the best choice, then I’ll talk to Bluestar when the time comes,” Fireheart promised. “It’ll all be fine.”

“I know, Fireheart. I wasn’t worried.”

She slipped off into the shadow of a hazel tree. Fireheart looked after her, wondering if he’d offended her, and then started to scrape earth over his prey so it could be collected later.

“You want to watch out with that one,” a voice meowed behind him. “She’ll claw your ears off if you’re not careful.”

Fireheart spun around. His old friend Graystripe was standing on the border with RiverClan, farther down the slope toward the river. Water gleamed on his thick gray pelt. Beside him stood a familiar she-cat, Graystripe’s mate Silverstream

“Graystripe!” Fireheart exclaimed. “You startled me!”

Graystripe gave himself a shake and sent droplets sparkling into the air. “I saw you from the other side of the river,” he mewed. “I never thought I’d find you catching prey for Sandstorm. Special to you, is she?”

“We’re mates, Graystripe,” Fireheart protested. His fur suddenly felt hot, and prickled as if ants were crawling through it. “It’s perfectly normal, especially since she’s expecting kits.”

Silverstream gasped in delight. “Congratulations, Fireheart! You’re going to be an incredible father I’m sure.”

Graystripe let out a purr of amusement at Fireheart’s earlier words. “Oh, sure, if you say so.” He strolled up the slope and lowered his head to butt Fireheart affectionately on the shoulder. “You’re lucky, Fireheart. She’s a very impressive cat. I’m sure your kits will be incredible.”

Fireheart opened his mouth and then closed it again. Graystripe would tease him no matter what he said — and besides, he was right. He fell a little more in love with Sandstorm every day that passed. “We can talk about it more once she gets close to giving birth,” he meowed, changing the subject. “Tell me how you’re getting on. What’s the news in RiverClan?”

The laughter died from Graystripe’s yellow eyes. “Not much. Every cat is talking about Tigerstar.” When Graystripe had been a ThunderClan warrior, he and Fireheart had been the only cats to know the truth about Tigerstar’s murderous ambition, and that he had killed the former ThunderClan deputy, Redtail.

“I don’t know what to make of it,” Fireheart admitted. “Tigerstar might be different, now he’s got what he wants. No cat can deny that he could make a good leader — he’s strong, he can fight and hunt, and he knows the warrior code by heart.”

“But no cat can trust him,” Graystripe growled. “What’s the point of knowing the warrior code if all you do is ignore what it says?”

“It’s not up to us to trust him now,” Fireheart pointed out. “He’s got a new Clan, and Runningnose reported an omen that seemed to say StarClan would be sending them a great new leader. StarClan must know that ShadowClan needs a strong warrior to build them up again after the sickness.”

Graystripe didn’t look convinced. “StarClan sent him?” He snorted. “I’ll believe that when hedgehogs fly. The time travelers called a Clan meeting after the Gathering and told us a bunch of stuff about Tigerstar plotting against half-Clan cats.”

“No one really knew what to make of it,” Silverstream added. “But if that mangepelt tries to come near my kits, he’s going to regret it.”

Fireheart couldn’t help agreeing with Graystripe that it would be hard to trust Tigerstar. Making his new Clan healthy again might occupy him for a season or two, but after that. . .The thought of the fierce warrior at the head of a strong Clan sent a shudder through Fireheart from ears to tail-tip. He couldn’t believe that Tigerstar would settle down to a peaceful life in the forest, respecting the rights of the other three Clans. Sooner or later he would want to extend his territory, and his first target would be ThunderClan.

“If I were you,” meowed Graystripe, echoing his thoughts, “I’d keep a very careful watch on my borders.”

“Yes, I — ” Fireheart began. He broke off as he saw Sandstorm coming toward them, a young rabbit dangling from her jaws. She padded across the pebbles, and dropped her prey at Fireheart’s feet. Looking more relaxed, as if she had gotten over her brief annoyance, she nodded to the RiverClan warrior.

“Hi, Graystripe, Silverstream,” she mewed. “How are the kits?”

“They’re fine, thanks,” Graystripe replied. His eyes glowed with pride. “They’ll be apprenticed soon.”

Silverstream snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Mistyfoot’s kits have to be start their training first. They are older, after all.”

“Will you mentor one of them?” Fireheart asked.

To his surprise, Graystripe looked uncertain. “I don’t know,” he meowed. “If it were Crookedstar’s decision, maybe. . .but he doesn’t do much these days, except sleep. Leopardfur organizes most things now, and she’ll never forgive me for the way Whiteclaw almost died. I think she’ll probably give the kits to some other warriors to mentor.”

He bowed his head. Fireheart realized he still felt guilty about the death of the RiverClan warrior who had fallen into the gorge when his patrol attacked a small group of ThunderClan warriors.

“That’s tough,” meowed Fireheart, pressing himself comfortingly against Graystripe’s side.

“But you can see her point,” Sandstorm pointed out mildly. “Leopardfur will want to make sure that the kits are brought up to be completely loyal to RiverClan.”

Graystripe swung his head around to face her, his fur bristling. “That’s just what I would do! I don’t want my kits to grow up feeling tom between two Clans.” His eyes clouded. “I know what that’s like.”

Pain for his friend flooded over Fireheart. After the fire, Graystripe had shown how unhappy he was in his new Clan, and clearly things were no better now. Fireheart wanted to say, “Come home,” but he knew he had no right to offer Graystripe a place in the Clan when Bluestar had already refused.

“Speak to Crookedstar,” he suggested. “Ask him yourself about the kits.”

“And try to stay on the good side of Leopardfur,” added Sandstorm. “Don’t let her catch you crossing the ThunderClan border.”

Silverstream sighed. “Even if Crookedstar trusts you, he doesn’t let warriors mentor their own kits unless there is no other option. And right now there are enough warriors to manage all the apprentices.”

Graystripe flinched. “Maybe you’re right. I’d better be getting back. Good-bye, Sandstorm, Fireheart.”

“Try to come to the next Gathering,” Fireheart urged.

Graystripe flicked his tail in acknowledgment and padded off down the slope. Halfway to the river he turned, meowed, “Wait there a moment!” and raced down to the edge of the water. For several heartbeats he sat motionless on a flat stone, gazing down into the shallows.

“Now what’s he up to?” Sandstorm muttered.

Before Fireheart could reply, Graystripe’s paw darted out. A silver fish shot out of the stream and fell to the bank, where it lay flopping and wriggling. Graystripe finished it off with a single blow of his paw and dragged it back up the slope to where Fireheart and Sandstorm stood watching.

“Here,” he meowed as he dropped it, ignoring Silverstream’s eyeroll. “I know prey must be scarce since the fire. That should help a bit.”

“Thanks,” meowed Fireheart, and added admiringly, “That was a neat trick back there.”

Graystripe let out a purr of satisfaction. “Silverstream and Mistyfoot showed me how.”

“And you learned it so well,” Silverstream teased. “You only fell in the river a few times.”

“It’s very welcome,” Sandstorm told him. “But if Leopardfur finds out you’ve been feeding another Clan, she won’t be pleased.”

“Leopardfur can go chase her own tail,” Graystripe growled. “If she says anything, I’ll remind her how Fireheart and I helped feed RiverClan during the floods last newleaf.”

Silverstream winced. “Somehow I don’t think that would go over well.”

He turned away and bounded back to the river. Fireheart’s heart ached as he watched his friend launch himself into the water and begin swimming strongly for the opposite bank. He would have given anything to have Graystripe back in ThunderClan, but he had to admit it seemed unlikely that the gray warrior could ever be accepted there again.

Fireheart struggled to carry the slippery fish as the hunting patrol returned to camp, his mouth watering as the unfamiliar scent filled his nostrils. When he entered the camp he saw that the pile of fresh-kill already looked bigger. Cloudpaw and Brightpaw had returned, and were about to go out again with Longtail, Swiftblade, Lightfrost, Mousefur, and Thornpaw.

“We’ve fed the elders, Fireheart!” Cloudpaw called over his shoulder as he scampered up the ravine.

“And Cinderpelt?” Fireheart called back.

“Not yet!”

Fireheart watched his young kin dash out of sight and then turned back to the pile of fresh-kill. Perhaps Graystripe’s fish would tempt Cinderpelt, he thought. He suspected that the young medicine cat wasn’t eating enough, out of grief for Yellowfang, and because she was so busy caring for the smoke-sick cats, including Bluestar.

“Are you hungry, Fireheart?” asked Sandstorm, dropping the last of her catch onto the pile. In the end she had waited to eat until they brought the prey back to camp, and she was eyeing the fresh-kill avidly. “We could eat together, if you like.”

“Okay.” The magpie Fireheart had eaten that morning seemed a long time ago now. “I’ll just take this to Cinderpelt.”

“Don’t be long,” meowed Sandstorm.

Fireheart gripped the fish in his jaws and walked toward Cinderpelt’s den. Before the fire, a lush tunnel of ferns had separated it from the rest of the camp. Now just a few blackened stalks showed above the ground, and Fireheart could clearly see the cleft in the rock that was the entrance to the den.

He stopped outside, dropped the fresh-kill, and called, “Cinderpelt!”

After a moment the young medicine cat poked her head out of the opening. “What? Oh, it’s you, Fireheart.”

She padded out of the den to join him. Her fur was ruffled, and her eyes didn’t have their usual lively sparkle. Instead she seemed distracted and troubled. Fireheart guessed that her mind was on Yellowfang.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she mewed. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Have something to eat first,” Fireheart urged her. “Look, Graystripe caught a fish for us.”

“Thanks, Fireheart,” Cinderpelt meowed, “but this is urgent. StarClan sent a dream to me last night.”

Something about the way she spoke made Fireheart uneasy. He was still not used to the way that his former apprentice was growing into a true medicine cat, living without a mate or kits of her own, meeting secretly with other medicine cats and united with them through their bond with the warrior spirits of StarClan.

“What was the dream about?” he asked. He had experienced dreams like this more than once, warning him of things that were going to happen. That helped him to imagine, better than most Clan cats, the mixture of awe and bewilderment that Cinderpelt must be feeling now.

“I’m not sure.” Cinderpelt blinked in confusion. “I thought I was standing in the forest, and I could hear something large crashing through the trees, but I couldn’t see what it was. And I heard voices calling — harsh voices, in a language that wasn’t cat. But I could understand what they said. . ..”

Her voice trailed off. She stood gazing into the distance, her eyes clouded, while her front paws kneaded the ground in front of her.

“What did they say?” Fireheart prompted.

Cinderpelt shivered. “It was really strange. They were calling, ‘Pack, pack,’ and ‘Kill, kill.’”

Fireheart couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He had hoped that a message from StarClan might have given them some hint about how to deal with all his problems — Tigerstar’s reappearance, Bluestar’s illness, and the aftermath of the fire. But it sounded like Dovewing’s warning. “Do you know what it means?” he asked, wondering if Dovewing or Jayfeather had brought it up to her at all.

Cinderpelt shook her head, a lingering look of horror in her eyes, as though she faced a huge threat Fireheart could not see. “Not yet. Maybe StarClan will show me more when I’ve been to Highstones. But it’s something bad, Fireheart, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s about a pack of vicious dogs,” Fireheart said wearily. “Dovewing told Whitestorm and I before I went on patrol. There’s a pack of dangerous dogs living at Snakerocs, ones that we can’t fight. I don’t know what I can do right now”

Her blue eyes still wide with distress, Cinderpelt nodded. Fireheart gave her ear a comforting lick. “Don’t worry, Cinderpelt. We’ll figure out something. Just tell me the moment you get any more details.”

He jumped as an irritated yowling sounded from behind him. “Fireheart, are you going to be all day?”

Glancing around, he saw that Sandstorm was waiting for him at the entrance to the burned fern tunnel. “I’ve got to go,” he said to Cinderpelt.

“But—”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” Fireheart interrupted her, his rumbling belly urging him to go and join Sandstorm. “Let me know if you have any other dreams.”

Cinderpelt’s ears twitched in annoyance. “This is big, Fireheart, not just a root digging into my fur or a tough bit of fresh-kill caught in my throat. It could affect the whole Clan. We need to work out a way to stop those dogs.”

“And we will,” Fireheart told her, backing away from Cinderpelt’s den and tossing the last words over his shoulder. “Please trust me.”

Bounding across the clearing toward Sandstorm, he wondered briefly why the dream couldn’t have been more specific. As he tucked into the vole that Sandstorm had saved for him, he managed to put the thoughts of the dogs out of his mind.

Chapter Text

Fireheart’s flanks heaved as he fought for breath, and his cheek stung where claws had raked across it. As he staggered to his feet, Brightpaw took a couple of steps back.

“I haven’t hurt you, have I?” the ginger-and-white apprentice asked anxiously.

“No, I’m fine.” Fireheart gasped. “Did Whitestorm show you that move? I never saw it coming. Well done.”

Trying not to limp, he padded across the training hollow to where Thornpaw and Cloudpaw were watching. He had been assessing the apprentices’ fighting skills, and they had all held their own against him. They had the makings of formidable warriors.

“I’m glad you’re all on my side. I wouldn’t want to meet you in battle,” Fireheart meowed. “I’ve had a word with your mentors, and they think you’re ready, so I’m going to ask Bluestar if you can be made warriors.”

Brightpaw and Thornpaw exchanged excited glances. Cloudpaw tried to look nonchalant, but there was a gleam of anticipation in his eyes too.

“Okay,” Fireheart went on. “Hunt on your way back to camp, and see that the elders and the queens are fed. Then you can eat.”

“If there’s anything left,” mewed Thornpaw.

Fireheart flicked a glance at him. Thornpaw sometimes said things that could be worrying, but on this occasion he seemed to be trying to make a joke. All three young cats sprang up and dashed out of the training hollow. Fireheart heard Brightpaw yowling to Cloudpaw, “Bet I catch more prey than you!”

It seemed a long time since he had been that carefree, Fireheart reflected as he followed more slowly. Under the weight of his responsibilities as deputy, he sometimes felt older than the elders. The Clan was surviving, managing to find food and to rebuild the devastated camp, but all the warriors were overstretched. Fireheart was on his paws from dawn to sunset, and every night he went to his den with tasks still undone. How long can we go on? he asked himself. It’ll get harder, not easier, when leaf-bare comes. Already the few leaves that the fire had left on the trees were turning red and gold. As Fireheart paused at the top of the hollow, he felt a chill breeze ruffle his fur, though the sun shone brightly.

He slipped quietly back into camp and stood for a moment near the entrance, looking around.

Darkstripe, who was in charge of the rebuilding, had started to patch the remaining gaps in the branches of the warriors’ den. Owltuft and Dustpelt were working with him and the three younger apprentices, Fernpaw, Ashpaw, and Tulippaw.

He frowned, noticing that Ashpaw had a bad scratch on his ear. Had something happened in training? He’d have to ask the apprentice later.

On the other side of the camp Fireheart saw Cinderpelt making her way to the elders’ den, carrying some herbs in her jaws.

In the center of the clearing, Goldenflower’s two kits were playing with Speckletail’s kit, while the queens sat watching them near the entrance to the nursery. Willowpelt was there too, carefully guarding her litter, who were much younger, from the rough play of the older kits.

Meanwhile, Honeykit and Hollykit were moving very quietly towards the rebuilding, their eyes fixed mischievously. Fireheart guessed they wanted to practice their stealth skills and wondered if this was something Dovewing had suggested in her unofficial skill sessions.

Fireheart’s gaze rested on Bramblekit, the bigger of Goldenflower’s kits. That strong, muscular body and dark brown pelt were familiar; no cat who looked at the kit could doubt that Tigerstar was his father. The thought had once made Fireheart uneasy, and he’d struggled to push it aside. Logically, he knew that he should’ve felt just as suspicious of the kit’s sister, Tawnykit, but though she shared the same father, she didn’t share the misfortune of looking exactly like him. Fireheart knew it had been unfair to blame Bramblekit for his father’s crimes.

But now he been given some strong wisdom from his Clanmates of now, the future, and even StarClan. He knew he could trust Bramblekit. The young cat was brave and loyal and he was popular with the other kits.

Yet Fireheart could not banish the memory of the young kit clinging to a branch of a blazing tree, wailing in terror as Fireheart tried to reach him. How could any kit have gone through something like that and come out unscathed. It was a blessing from StarClan that Bramblekit seemed to have forgotten the traumatic event.

Suddenly a shrill squeal came from the group of kits. Bramblekit had bowled over Snowkit and was holding him down on the ground with his claws. The squealing came from the sturdy white kit, who didn’t seem to be trying to defend himself.

Fireheart padded forward, nudging into Bramblekit away from his denmate. “Easy, Bramblekit” he meowed. “You’re not play-fighting Honeykit,” he added, referring to the golden-furred tom-kit who had a tendency to play-fight as though another Clan was invading.

The dark tabby kit picked himself up, amber eyes glaring with shock.

“Sorry, Fireheart,” Bramblekit apologized. “I got carried away. Snowkit wanted to practice for when we become apprentices.”

“It’s okay,” Fireheart assured him. “Next time just make sure you remember which cat you’re fighting.”

Bramblekit shook dust off his fur. “We weren’t fighting; we were only playing.”

Bramblekit padded past him to where Snowkit still crouched on the ground. Speckletail was giving his white fur a brisk lick. “Come on, get up,” she meowed. “You’re not hurt.”

“Yeah, come on, Snowkit,” Bramblekit mewed, swiping his tongue over the kit’s ear. “I didn’t mean it. Come and play, and you can be Clan leader this time.” When Snowkit didn’t reply, Bramblekit’s eyes widened in realization and he stomped his paw three times and then swung his tail in a circle when the white-furred kit turned to look at him.

Snowkit lit up, nodded excitedly, flicking his tail and stomping his paw so quickly Fireheart couldn’t follow along.

Then Bramblekit stomped his paw hard three times. “Remember,” he whispered, moving his tail. “Three stomps: large bird attacking; roll over and lash out.”

Bramblekit’s sister, Tawnykit, was sitting a couple of tail-lengths away, her tail curled around her paws. “He’s no fun,” she mewed. “He never has any good games.”

“Tawnykit!” Goldenflower cuffed her lightly across one ear. “Don’t be so nasty. I don’t know what’s gotten into the pair of you today.”

Snowkit pounced on top of Bramblekit, actually managing to knock over the much larger kit.

“Maybe you should let Cinderpelt check him,” Fireheart advised the pale tabby queen, though he looked fine. “Make sure he’s not hurt.”

Speckletail swung her head around and glared at her Clan deputy. “There’s nothing wrong with my kit!” she growled. “Are you saying that I can’t look after him properly?” Turning her back on Fireheart, she watched the kits playing.

“She’s very protective of her kit,” Goldenflower explained. “I think it comes of having only the one.” She blinked fondly at her two kits, now scuffling together with Snowkit on the ground.

Fireheart went to sit beside her, feeling uncomfortable about the way he had corrected Bramblekit. “Have you told them that their father is leader of ShadowClan now?” he asked quietly.

Goldenflower gave him a quick glance. “No, not yet,” she admitted. “They would only boast about it, and then some cat would tell them the rest of the story.”

“Sooner or later they’ll find out,” meowed Fireheart.

The ginger queen vigorously washed her chest fur for a few moments. “I saw the way you used to look at them,” she mewed at last. “Especially Bramblekit. It’s not his fault that he looks exactly like Tigerstar. And you did come around, which I’m grateful for. But other cats look at him like that too.” Thoughtfully she licked her paw and drew it over her ear. “I want my kits to grow up happy, not feeling guilty because of something that happened before they were bom. Maybe there’s more hope of that now, if Tigerstar becomes a great leader. Maybe they’ll even be proud of him in the end.”

Fireheart twitched his ears. “I’m sure they’ll both make fine warriors. They’re already brave and strong.”

“They both respect you, you know,” Goldenflower went on. “Especially since you saved Bramblekit from the fire.”

For a moment Fireheart didn’t know what to say. “I wish he hadn’t had to go through that,” he replied eventually.

“I wish it hadn’t happened either. But it did, and that has made a massive impact on them. I think you should tell them about Tigerstar,” Goldenflower meowed, turning an intense gaze on him. “You’re the deputy, after all. They would take it well from you — and I know you would tell them the truth.”

“You. . .you think I should tell them now?” Fireheart stammered. The way Goldenflower spoke made it sound like a challenge.

“No, not now,” replied Goldenflower calmly. “Not until you’re ready. And when you think they ’re ready,” she added. “But don’t leave it for too long.”

Fireheart dipped his head. “I will, Goldenflower,” he promised. “And I’ll make it as easy for them as I can. They don’t deserve to go through this.”

Before Goldenflower could reply, Bramblekit came skidding up to his mother with Tawnykit just behind him. “Can we go and see the elders?” he asked, eyes shining. “One-eye promised to tell us some great stories!”

Goldenflower let out an indulgent purr. “Yes, of course,” she meowed. “Take her something from the pile of fresh-kill — that’s good manners. And mind that you’re back here by sunset.”

“We will!” meowed Tawnykit. She dashed off across the camp, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to fetch a mouse for One-eye!”

“No, you’re not, I am!” Bramblekit yowled, scampering after her.

“Well,” Goldenflower meowed, turning back to Fireheart, “those kits certainly lose interest quickly.”

She got up, obviously not needing an answer, and shook each paw in turn before retreating into the nursery. Fireheart watched her go. Somehow he had managed to make himself unpopular with Speckletail; and even though Goldenflower trusted him, she clearly had decided she wasn’t the right cat to to give her kits the answers they needed.

Sighing, he got to his paws, realizing it was time he sent out the evening patrol. But before he could, he heard Darkstripe yowl, “Get away from me, you mangepelts!”

Immediately after, he heard Honeykit and Hollykit’s cheer, the apprentices’ congratulations, and Dustpelt’s scolding.

“Ha! It worked!”

“Nice one, you two!”

“Darkstripe, be nice to them. They’re just kits.”

As Fireheart turned away from the nursery he caught sight of Brackenfur, who was hovering nearby as if he wanted to speak to him.

“Is there a problem?” he asked the young warrior.

“I don’t know,” Brackenfur replied. “It’s just that I saw what happened there, with Speckletail’s kit, and — ”

“You’re not going to tell me I shouldn’t have told Bramblekit to be more gentle, are you?”

“No, Fireheart, of course not. But. . .well, I think there might be something wrong with Snowkit.”

Fireheart knew that the golden brown tom wouldn’t make a fuss about nothing. “Go on,” he urged.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Brackenfur explained. He scuffed the ground with his forepaws, an embarrassed look on his face. “I. . .I sort of hoped Bluestar might choose me to mentor him, and I wanted to get to know him. And I think there’s something the matter with him. He doesn’t play like the others. He doesn’t seem to respond when any cat talks to him. You know kits, Fireheart — noses into everything — but Snowkit’s not like that. I think Cinderpelt ought to have a look at him.”

“I suggested that to Speckletail and practically got my ears clawed.”

Brackenfur shrugged. “Maybe Speckletail won’t admit there could be anything wrong with her kit.”

Fireheart thought for a moment. Snowkit did seem slow and unresponsive compared with the other kits. He was much the same age Goldenflower’s litter, but nothing like as well developed. “Leave it with me,” he meowed. “I’ll have a word with Cinderpelt. She’ll find a way of taking a look at the kit without upsetting Speckletail.”

“Thanks, Fireheart.” Brackenfur sounded relieved.

Does he know more than he’s letting on? Fireheart wondered. He has been working with Dovewing to make that special communication.

“Meanwhile,” Fireheart mewed, “can you lead the evening patrol? Ask Mousefur, Brindleface, and Robinpaw to go with you.”

Brackenfur straightened up. “Sure, Fireheart,” he replied. “I’ll go and look for them now.”

He set off across the camp with his tail held high. When he had gone a few fox-lengths, Fireheart called him back. “Oh, and Brackenfur,” he mewed, pleased for once to impart good news, “when Snowkit is ready, I’ll speak to Bluestar about letting you mentor him.”

Before Fireheart went to find Cinderpelt, he visited Bluestar to tell her about the apprentices’ assessment. The Clan leader was seated outside her den in a patch of sunshine, but her blue eyes looked tired as she blinked at him.

“Well, Fireheart?” she asked as he approached. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got good news, Bluestar.” Fireheart tried to sound cheerful. “I assessed the oldest two apprentices and Cloudpaw today. They did well. I think it’s time they were made into warriors.”

“The older apprentices?” Bluestar’s eyes clouded with confusion. “That would be Brightpaw and Thornpaw.”

Fireheart nodded. “Yes, Bluestar.”

Bluestar shifted a little. ““And you want them to be warriors? Do their mentors think so as well?”

“I spoke with Mousefur and Whitestorm already,” Fireheart told her. “They both agree that they have no more to teach them.”

“Very well,” Bluestar agreed. “We will hold the ceremony before the evening patrol leaves.”

Fireheart purred. “Thank you, Bluestar! I’ll go tell them!”

He wasted no time in heading over to see the young cats, who were sharing a thrush outside their den. Swiftblade and Lightfrost were there as well.

Thornpaw looked up at him surprise. “Is everything all right?” he meowed, confused.

“Better than all right!” Fireheart exclaimed. “Bluestar has agreed to hold your apprentice ceremony before the evening patrol leaves.”

A massive grin split the golden-brown tom’s face. “That’s great!” he purred. “We’ll finally get to join Brackenfur in the warriors’ den!”

Cloudpaw snorted. “He still sleeps in the apprentices’ den every once in a while,” he pointed out.

“Be nice, Cloudpaw,” Brightpaw chided, flicking his ear with her tail.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Before any of them could say anything else, Fireheart heard Bluestar giving her familiar summons. “Let all cats old enough to cat their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.” She was waving her tail as she said it, and Fireheart looked towards the nursery. Snowkit quickly abandoned the ball of moss he was playing with and chose a spot close to where Fireheart himself was headed at the base of the Highrock. The white-furred kit sat there, his eyes fixed intently on Bluestar’s face.

It only took a few heartbeats for the cats to gather. They’d already been sharing tongues or working in the clearing, so they just left what they were doing. Hollykit and Honeykit sat with Ashpaw, Fernpaw, and Tulippaw, while Dustpelt took a place with Nighthunter and Sweetmint. The time travelers all left the medicine cats’ den, likely from visiting Ivypool. 

Thornpaw and Brightpaw approached Bluestar together, their eyes shining with excitement. Brightpaw had taken advantage of the little time she’d had to groom herself, with Cloudpaw’s help, while Thornpaw had decided not to do so, and had been subject to a grooming thanks to Lightfrost and Swiftblade.

Bluestar’s voice was confident and clear as she began the ceremony Fireheart had heard several times by now, though he knew he would never tire of the awe of it. “I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” Turning to the apprentices, Bluestar meowed, “Brightpaw do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Her voice was quiet, but full of conviction as she answered, “I do.”

The leader nodded. “Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Brightpaw, from this moment forward, you will be known as Brightheart. StarClan honors your kindness and your spirit, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” She rested her muzzle on Brightheart’s head, and the young warrior licked her shoulder.

Now she faced the other apprentice. “Thornpaw, do promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Thornpaw’s reply was firm and confident. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name as well. Thornpaw, from this moment forward, you will be known as Thornclaw. StarClan honors your strength and your intelligence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

“Brightheart! Thornclaw! Brightheart! Thornclaw!” Cheers rang out around the Clan. The loudest voices were, unsurprisingly, Frostfur, Brackenfur, and Cinderpelt, but also Cloudpaw and Jayfeather.

There was something like regret in the blind medicine cat’s voice as he cheered, as if he had wronged Brightheart in the past in some way, and now he was cheering as loudly as he could to make up for it.

Once the cheering died down, Bluestar raised her voice authoritatively. “In keeping with tradition and the warrior code, tonight you will keep vigil and watch over the camp.”

“May StarClan grant you a quick and warm night!” Dustpelt purred, likely remembering his own leaf-bare vigil.

With that, Bluestar motioned for the meeting to break up. Cats hurried over to congratulate the newest warriors.

“I knew you could do it!” Lightfrost purred.

“You’ve finally joined me,” Brackenfur added, looking a little sad as he glanced towards Cinderpelt. “We’ve all completed our training.”

Cloudpaw was beaming at Brightheart. “I’ll join you soon!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“I can’t wait,” she told him, joy in her eyes.

Fireheart listened to them speak as he padded towards the nursery. Snowkit was speaking, the first words he’d ever heard from the little tom, excitedly to his denmates.

“I’d get parts of it!” he mewed.

Bramblekit spoke very slowly, confusing Fireheart. “Did…you…get…their…names?”

“Yup! Brightheart and Thornclaw. Great cats!” Snowkit cheered.

“That’s…great!” Hollykit encouraged, in the same slow voice as Bramblekit.

None of the kits had been speaking this slowly before, when the warriors were with them. Clearly this was deliberate. The question was why.

*  *  *  *  *

The sun was going down, casting long shadows across the clearing, by the time Fireheart went to look for Cinderpelt. He found the medicine cat in her den, checking her supplies of healing herbs with Jayfeather, and sat just outside the entrance to talk to her.

“Speckletail’s kit?” she meowed when Fireheart had told her about Brackenfur’s suspicions. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. Jayfeather watched them, but didn’t say anything. “Yes, I can see what he means. I’ll take a look.”

“You’ll have to be careful of Speckletail,” Fireheart warned her. “When I suggested she might let you check Snowkit, she practically bit my nose off.”

“I’m not surprised,” remarked Cinderpelt. “No queen wants to believe her kits aren’t perfect. I’ll deal with it, Fireheart; don’t worry. But not right away,” she added, patting her store of juniper berries into a neater pile. “It’s too late to disturb them tonight, and tomorrow I have to go to Highstones.”

“So soon?” Fireheart was surprised; he hadn’t realized how quickly the days were slipping by.

“Tomorrow night is the new moon. All the other medicine cats will be there too. StarClan will give me my full powers.” Cinderpelt hesitated and then added, “Yellowfang should have come with me, to present me to StarClan as a fully trained medicine cat. Now I’ll have to go through the ceremony without her.” Her eyes grew wide and remote as she spoke. Fireheart felt that she was moving far away from him, into a land of shadows and dreams where he could not follow her.

Jayfeather rested his tail-tip on her shoulder. “I will be there with you as well. While I cannot present you, since I was never your medicine cat, I will still support you.”

“Thank you, Jayfeather,” she murmured. “I really appreciate that.”

“You’ll need to take a warrior with you,” Fireheart meowed. “Last time Bluestar tried to go to Highstones, WindClan wouldn’t let her pass through their territory.”

Cinderpelt looked at him calmly. “I’d like to see the patrol that would dare to stop a medicine cat. StarClan would never forgive that.” Her expression changed and her eyes glinted mischievously. “You can come as far as Fourtrees if you like. Assuming you can spare the time from Sandstorm.”

Fireheart felt uncomfortable. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered. But he remembered leaving to go and eat with Sandstorm while Cinderpelt was telling him about her dream, and he guessed that the medicine cat had felt unfairly dismissed. “Sandstorm can lead the dawn patrol without me,” he mewed out loud. “I’ll come with you to Fourtrees.”

*  *  *  *  *

The next day dawned damp and misty. Tendrils of fog curled between the trees as Fireheart, Cinderpelt, and Jayfeather made their way to Fourtrees. The clinging white clouds dampened the sound of their pawsteps and beaded their fur with tiny droplets. In the silence Fireheart jumped at the sudden alarm call of a bird above his head. He felt half-afraid that they might lose their way in this eerily unfamiliar-looking forest.

But by the time they crossed the stream and began to climb the slope to Fourtrees, the mist had begun to clear, and at the top of the hollow they emerged into bright sunlight. The four massive oaks stood straight ahead of them, their leaves turning red-gold with the approach of leaf-fall.

Cinderpelt let out a noisy breath and shook the moisture from her fur. “That feels good! I was starting to think I’d have to scent my way to Highstones, and I’ve only been there once before, with Yellowfang. Fireheart too enjoyed the feeling of warm sun on his fur. He stretched luxuriously and opened his jaws to taste the air, hoping to pick up the scent of prey.

Instead, the scent of other cats flooded over him. ShadowClan! he thought, his muscles tensing as his gaze flicked from side to side. A moment later he relaxed as he spotted Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, padding up to the hollow from ShadowClan territory with another cat beside him. This was no hostile warrior. StarClan raised medicine cats above the level of Clan rivalry.

“It looks as if you won’t have to travel alone after all,” he meowed to Cinderpelt.

They waited until the ShadowClan cats came up to them. As they drew nearer, Fireheart recognized the other cat. It was Littlecloud, a small tabby tom who had almost died in his Clan’s recent sickness. He and another warrior, Whitethroat, had tried to seek refuge with ThunderClan. Bluestar had refused to take them in, but Cinderpelt had secretly sheltered them and cared for them until they were fit enough to travel back to their own territory.

Whitethroat had nearly died soon after, when Tigerstar and his rogues had attacked a ThunderClan patrol. A monster had almost cut the young cat down on the Thunderpath as he was fleeing from the fight, but Lionblaze had thrown him out of the way and been struck instead. Reliving the shock of that moment, Fireheart was glad to see that Littlecloud looked strong and healthy again.

“Hello, there!” Runningnose greeted the ThunderClan cats cheerfully. “Well met, Cinderpelt. It’s a good day to travel.”

Littlecloud nodded respectfully to Fireheart and went to touch noses with Cinderpelt.

“It’s good to see you on your paws again,” she meowed.

“All thanks to you,” Littlecloud replied. With a touch of pride he added, “I’m Runningnose’s apprentice now.”

“Congratulations!” Cinderpelt purred.

“And that’s because of you too,” Littlecloud went on enthusiastically. “When we were ill, you knew just what to do. And then you gave us healing herbs to take back to the Clan — and they worked! I want to do more stuff like that.”

“He has real talent,” Runningnose mewed. “And it took courage to come back to us with the herbs.”

Cinderpelt pressed her muzzle comfortingly against Littlecloud’s flank. Settling down on the warm grass, she beckoned with her tail for the apprentice to sit beside her and began to ask him about his training.

“Are things better now?” Fireheart carefully asked Runningnose. Jayfeather chose not to speak to anyone, instead staring up at Silverpelt as if he could see their ancestors shining in the stars. He would have liked to warn the medicine cat about Tigerstar and Stripestalk, but there was so little he could say without revealing what had happened in ThunderClan.

“It seems so,” meowed Runningnose, sounding equally guarded. “The apprentices are getting a proper training for the first time in moons, and our bellies are always full.”

“That’s good news,” Fireheart mewed, forcing himself to add, “What about the rogues?”

Runningnose frowned. “Not every cat was happy about their coming into our Clan,” he admitted. “I wasn’t happy about them myself. But they haven’t caused any trouble — and they’re strong warriors; no cat can deny that.”

“Then maybe Tigerstar will be a great leader, just like the omen said,” Fireheart mewed.

The medicine cat met his gaze evenly. “It seems strange that ThunderClan got rid of two strong cats like that.”

Fireheart took a deep breath. Perhaps he should take this chance to tell Runningnose the truth about Tigerstar. “It’s a long story,” he began.

“No, Fireheart,” Runningnose interrupted. “I’m not asking you to betray your Clan’s secrets.” He edged closer to Fireheart, then scraped the ground with his paws and crouched down beside him. “Whatever happened in ThunderClan, I’m certain of one thing,” he mewed softly. “StarClan did send Tigerstar to us.”

“You mean the omen?”

“Actually, there’s something else.” Runningnose glanced sideways at Fireheart. “Our last leader was never accepted by StarClan,” he admitted. “When Nightstar became leader, StarClan did not grant him nine lives.”

“What?” Fireheart stared at the medicine cat in disbelief. If Nightstar had had only one life, it explained why the sickness had claimed him so quickly. Fireheart found his voice again. “Why didn’t he get nine lives?”

“StarClan have not explained that to me,” meowed Runningnose. “I wondered if it was because Brokentail was still alive, and StarClan still recognized him as Clan leader. Only three cats were both willing and able to gift him with lives. By the time we learned that Brokentail had died, Nightstar was too weak to make the journey to the Moonstone to receive the rest of his nine lives. And since Tigerstar came, I think maybe he was StarClan’s choice of leader for us all along. Nightstar was not the right cat.”

“Yet the Clan still accepted him as leader?” Fireheart asked.

“The Clan never knew that he had only been given three of his nine lives,” Runningnose confessed. “Nightstar was a noble cat, and loyal to his Clan. We decided to keep StarClan’s rejection a secret. What else could we do? There was no other cat fit to be leader. If we had told the truth, the Clan would have panicked.”

There was a kind of relief in Runningnose ’s voice as he told the story. Fireheart guessed how relieved the medicine cat must have felt to be able to share the secret at last.

“The Clan cats thought the sickness was so bad it took all of Nightstar’s lives at once, and in a way, it did, ” Runningnose continued. “They were scared — very scared. They had never been in greater need of a strong leader.”

So they accepted Tigerstar without question. Fireheart added what the medicine cat had not said. But there was no need for Runningnose to voice his doubts about his new leader. “Has Tigerstar said anything about attacking ThunderClan?” Fireheart asked hesitantly.

Runningnose let out a purr of amusement. “Do you really expect me to answer that? If he was planning anything, I’d be betraying my Clan if I told you. As far as I know, you haven’t anything to worry about, but whether you believe me or not is up to you.”

Fireheart discovered that he believed him — at least, he believed that Runningnose knew nothing about any plans that Tigerstar might be making. Whether the medicine cat was right was another question altogether.

“Fireheart!” The voice was Cinderpelt’s. She had risen to her paws and was gazing across the hollow to the swell of moorland beyond. This was the WindClan territory that the medicine cats would have to cross to reach Highstones for the ceremony. “Are you and Runningnose going to sit there gossiping all day like a couple of elders?”

Jayfeather snorted in amusement. “She’s one to talk, the way she’s jabbering on with Littlecloud.”

Her paws worked impatiently in the grass. Littlecloud was standing beside her, his head raised and his eyes shining eagerly.

“All right,” Runningnose meowed, getting up and going to join them. “We’ve got all day, you know. Highstones isn’t going anywhere.”

The five cats padded around the top of the hollow until they reached the edge of the windswept moor. Cinderpelt paused and touched noses with Fireheart. “I’ll be fine from here,” she meowed. “Thanks for coming this far. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Take care,” Fireheart replied.

He had stood here once before and said good-bye to Cinderpelt when she first went to face the mysteries of the Moonstone. A shiver ran through his fur as he thought of her plunging down through the underground tunnels to the glittering crystal for her silent communion with StarClan. He said nothing more, only gave the gray she-cat’s ear a swift lick in farewell, and stood watching as she limped across the moorland turf with Jayfeather and the two ShadowClan cats.

Chapter Text

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER BLUESTAR — blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle.

DEPUTY FIREHEART — handsome ginger tom.

MEDICINE APPRENTICE, CINDERPELT — dark gray she-cat.

CATS JAYFEATHER— gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

WARRIORS (toms, and she-cats without kits)

SWEETMINT — tortoiseshell she-cat

NIGHTHUNTER — black she-cat

WHITESTORM— big white tom. 

FROSTFUR— beautiful white coat and blue eyes.

APPRENTICE, REDPAW

BRINDLEFACE— pretty tabby.

APPRENTICE, ROBINPAW

OWLTUFT — brown tabby tom

APPRENTICE, FERNPAW

NEEDLENOSE — tortoiseshell she-cat with a thin stripe down her muzzle and nose

NUTFUR — light brown she-cat

DARKSTRIPE — sleek black-and-gray tabby tom.

LONGTAIL — pale tabby tom with dark black stripes.

RUNNINGWIND— swift tabby tom.

MOUSEFUR — small dusky brown she-cat.

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat

LIONBLAZE— golden tabby tom with amber eyes

FIREHEART — handsome ginger tom.

APPRENTICE, CLOUDPAW

DUSTPELT — dark brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, ASHPAW

SANDSTORM — pale ginger she-cat.

APPRENTICE, TULIPPAW

SWIFTBLADE — black-and-white tom.

LIGHTFROST — gray-and-white tom

BRACKENFUR — golden brown tabby tom.

BRIGHTHEART — white she-cat with ginger splotches

THORNCLAW — golden-brown tabby tom

SURGE — light gray-and-ginger she-cat with white patches and yellow eyes

IVYPOOL— silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes

DOVEWING— pale gray she-cat with green eyes

APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

CLOUDPAW—long-haired white tom, blue eyes

TULIPPAW—pale gray tom with darker flecks, amber eyes

ASHPAW—pale gray tom with darker flecks, dark blue eyes

FERNPAW—pale gray she-cat with darker flecks, pale green eyes

ROBINPAW—black she-cat with a ginger chest and underbelly and dark brown eyes

REDPAW—dark ginger tom with brown eyes

QUEENS (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

GOLDENFLOWER—pale ginger coat, mother to Bramblekit and Tawnykit

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat, mother to Hollykit and Honeykit

SPECKLETAIL — pale tabby, and the oldest nursery queen, mother to Snowkit.

WILLOWPELT — very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes, mother to Sorrelkit, Rainkit, and Sootkit.

ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)

SMALLEAR — gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in ThunderClan.

PATCHPELT — small black-and-white tom.

ONE-EYE — pale gray she-cat, Virtually blind and deaf. 

DAPPLETAIL — once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER TIGERCLAW — big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws, formerly of ThunderClan

DEPUTY STRIPESTALK — black-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, ROWANPAW

MEDICINE RUNNINGNOSE — small gray-and-white tom.

CATS        LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom

WARRIORS 

BRIGHTFLOWER— black-and-white she-cat

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

APPRENTICE, BROWNPAW

FERNSHADE — tortoiseshell she-cat

APPRENTICE, MINTPAW

DEERFOOT — light brown tom

FLINTFANG—older gray tom

ROWANBERRY—brown-and-cream she-cat

APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW

RUSSETFUR—dark ginger she-cat

APPRENTICE, CEDARPAW

BOULDER— silver tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, WETPAW

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

CLAWFACE — battle-scarred brown tom.

STUMPYTAIL — brown tabby tom.

TANGLEBURR—gray-and-brown she-cat, formerly of ShadowClan

APPRENTICE, MARIGOLDPAW

JAGGEDTOOTH—a huge, thick-furred, ginger tabby tom with amber eyes, and a broad head

NIGHTWHISPER—scrawny, sleek, brown tom with green eyes and a distinctive, pointed muzzle.

JETSTALKER—a black tom with blue eyes

SCRATCHFLIGHT—a brown tabby tom with green eyes and a black paw

APPLEFUR—mottled brown she-cat

SCORCHFUR—dark gray tom

REDWILLOW—mottled brown-and-ginger tom

WETFOOT—gray tabby tom

APPRENTICE, NIGHTPAW

WHITETHROAT—black tom with white chest and paws

VOLEWHISPER—small light brown tom with yellow eyes and a scarred left hind leg

QUEENS 

TALLPOPPY — long-legged light brown tabby she-cat.

ELDERS

ASHFUR — thin gray tom.

DAWNCLOUD— small tabby.

DARKFLOWER — black she-cat

WINDCLAN

LEADER TALLSTAR — a black-and-white tom with a very long tail.

DEPUTY DEADFOOT — a black tom with a twisted paw.

MEDICINE BARKFACE — a short-tailed brown tom.

CAT 

WARRIORS

PIGEONFLIGHT — a dark gray tom with white patches.

SORRELSHINE — a gray-and-brown she-cat.

WRENFLIGHT — a brown she-cat.

FLYTAIL — a snowy-white tom.

RABBITEAR — a pale brown she-cat with a fluffy white belly and yellow eyes.

BRISTLEBARK — a black tom.

APPRENTICE, EAGLEPAW

MUDCLAW — a mottled dark brown tom.

TORNEAR— a tabby tom.

ASHFOOT — a gray she-cat

ONEWHISKER— a young brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, GORSEPAW

MORNINGFLOWER — a tortoiseshell she-cat

HEATHERTAIL—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

FURZEPELT—gray-and-white she-cat

RUNNINGBROOK—light gray tabby she-cat

WEBFOOT—dark gray tabby tom

TAWNYFUR— golden brown she-cat

WHITETAIL— small white she-cat

QUEENS

ELDERS

STAGLEAP — a dark brown tom with amber eyes.

DOESPRING — light brown she-cat.

RYESTALK — gray tabby she-cat with amber eyes.

BRACKENDUST — brown tabby tom with brown eyes.

CROWFUR – black tom with a silver muzzle

RIVERCLAN

LEADER CROOKEDSTAR — a huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw.

DEPUTY LEOPARDFUR — unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat.

WARRIORS 

BLACKCLAW— smoky black tom. 

SWANSOAR — silver tabby

APPRENTICE, ROBINPAW

STONEFUR — a gray tom with battle-scarred ears.

MOSSLIGHT — a gray-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, ICEPAW

LOUDBELLY — a dark brown tom.

MOSSPELT — tortoiseshell she-cat

MINNOWSCALE — dark gray she-cat

WILLOWMIST — smoky black she-cat.

WHITECLAW — a dark brown tom with white paws and amber eyes.

APPRENTICE, WOODPAW

HEAVYSTEP — thickset tabby tom

APPRENTICE, DAWNPAW

SHADEPELT — very dark gray she-cat

MINNOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat

MOSSYFOOT—brown-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, LONGPAW

GRAYSTRIPE — long-haired solid gray tom. (Father to Stormkit and Featherkit)

QUEENS

MISTYFOOT — dark gray she-cat, mother to Perchkit, Pikekit, Primrosekit, and Reedkit.

SILVERSTREAM — a pretty slender silver tabby, mother to Stormkit and Featherkit

ELDERS 

GRAYPOOL — thin gray she-cat with patchy fur and a scarred muzzle

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

BARLEY — black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest.

RAVENPAW — sleek black cat with a white-tipped tail who lives on the farm with Barley. 

PRINCESS — light brown tabby with a distinctive white chest and paws — a kittypet.

OLIVER — a fluffy white tom with brilliant blue eyes

SMUDGE — plump, friendly black-and-white tom who lives in a house at the edge of the forest.

HEALER — black she-cat with green eyes

CAVERN — scrawny, sleek, ginger-and-white patched tom with green eyes.

SCORCH—small black tom with one white paw and ice-blue eyes.

SPIN — gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

VIOLET—pale orange tabby she-cat with thin, darker orange stripes and white paws

Chapter Text

The forest was dark. No moon shone down that night, and when Fireheart looked up he could see nothing but a faint pattern of branches against the sky. The trees looked taller than he remembered, hemming him in. Brambles and ivy tangled around his paws.

“Softpaw!” he mewed. “Mistflow, Spottedleaf, where are you?”

There was no answer to his cries, only the rush of water from somewhere ahead of him. He was afraid of stepping forward and finding nothing but black emptiness under his paws as the raging torrent swept him down with it.

In some part of his mind Fireheart knew he was dreaming. He had lain down in the warriors’ den in the hope that he would be able to meet with one of his StarClan friends in sleep. When Fireheart had first come to ThunderClan, Softpaw had been a friend he had trained beside; Mistflow had been one of the kindest senior warriors, and Lightfrost’s mother; and Spottedleaf had been the medicine cat, but they had been killed by attacks from Brokentail’s vicious followers. Now they visited Fireheart in his dreams, so that once again he could find in her gentle wisdom the answers much that troubled him.

But now, though he searched more and more desperately in the black forest, he could not find her. “Spottedleaf!” he cried again. This was not the first time in his recent dreams that she had been invisible to him. The last time, he had only heard her voice, and he fought with the terrible fear that she was drawing away from him. “Softpaw, Mistflow, don’t leave me!” he begged.

A heavy weight landed on him from behind. Fireheart writhed on the forest floor, trying to free himself. Then the scent of another cat was in his nostrils, and he opened his eyes to find himself scuffling in his mossy bedding with Dustpelt cuffing him around the shoulders.

“What’s the matter with you?” Dustpelt growled. “No cat can get a wink of sleep with you yowling like that.”

“Leave him alone.” Sandstorm put her head up from her nest, blinking sleep from her eyes. “It was only a dream. It’s not his fault.”

“You would say that,” Dustpelt sneered. He turned his back on them and made his way out through the overhanging branches.

Fireheart sat up and began grooming scraps of moss out of his coat. Through the charred branches overhead, he could see that the sun was already up. Whitestorm must have left already with the dawn patrol, and hunting patrols gone out; there were no other warriors sleeping in the den.

The darkness of his dream was fading, but he could not forget it. Why had the forest seemed so black and terrifying? Why had none of them not come to him, not even as a scent or the sound of a voice?

“Are you all right?” asked Sandstorm, anxiety showing in her green eyes.

Fireheart shook himself “I’m fine,” he meowed. “Let’s go and hunt.”

The day was bright, though the chill of leaf-fail was in the air. Fireheart was relieved to see that grass and ferns were growing back thickly as the forest recovered. If only the fine weather would last! Then the growth could continue and prey would return.

Sandstorm was definitely starting to show. Her belly had rounded, and Jayfeather had told them, quite confidently, that they could expect two kits, though wouldn’t say whether these would be toms or she-kits.

Fireheart led the way up the ravine and through the forest toward Tallpines. Since the fire, most cats had avoided the stretch of territory closest to Treecutplace, where the devastation was worst. The fire had started there, and whole stretches of the forest had been reduced to nothing but gray ash, dotted with tree stumps. Fireheart wondered if there was a chance of prey there yet, but as he and Sandstorm approached the edge of Tallpines he guessed that he was going to be disappointed.

The pines, charred to tapering trunks, were still a jumble, with fallen trees caught up against others that still stood. The few remaining branches stirred uneasily in the breeze. The ground was black, and no birds sang.

“It’s useless here,” Sandstorm meowed. “Let’s go and — ”

She broke off as another cat appeared through the trees, a small tabby-and-white shape stepping nervously over the debris of the fire. With a gasp of surprise Fireheart recognized his sister, Princess.

She spotted him at the same moment and bounded toward him, calling, “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

“Who’s that?” Sandstorm meowed in surprise. “She’ll scare off all the prey between here and Fourtrees.”

Before Fireheart could reply, his sister came up to him. She was purring as if she would never stop, pressing her face against his and covering him with licks. “Fireheart, you’re alive!” she mewed. “I was so frightened when I saw the fire! I thought you and Cloudpaw were dead.”

“Yes, well, I’m okay,” Fireheart meowed awkwardly, giving Princess a quick lick in return and taking a step back, acutely conscious of Sandstorm’s eyes on him. “And Cloudpaw’s fine too.”

Glancing at Sandstorm, he saw that a look of amusement had appeared on the ginger warrior’s face and her fur lay flat. “That’s a kittypet,” she observed neutrally. “She’s got kittypet scent all over her.”

Princess gave her a scared look and edged closer to Fireheart. “Is. . .is this one of your friends, Fireheart?” she stammered.

“This is my mate Sandstorm. Sandstorm, this is my sister, Princess, Cloudpaw’s mother.”

Sandstorm took a step or two towards them. “Cloudpaw’s mother?” she repeated. “She still sees you both, then?” She shot a glance at Fireheart, clearly wondering how much he had told Princess about Cloudpaw’s escapade with the Twolegs.

“Cloudpaw is doing really well,” Fireheart meowed. “Isn’t he?” He met Sandstorm’s gaze, silently willing her not to say anything tactless about the wayward apprentice.

“He hunts well,” Sandstorm admitted. “And he’s got the makings of a fine fighter.”

Princess didn’t realize how much Sandstorm was leaving unsaid. Her eyes glowed with pride and she meowed, “I know he’ll be a good warrior with Fireheart to mentor him.”

“But you haven’t told me what you’re doing out here,” Fireheart mewed, eager to change the subject. “You’re a long way from your Twoleg nest.”

“I was looking for you. I had to know what had happened to you and Cloudpaw,” explained Princess. “I saw the fire from my garden, and then you didn’t come to see me, and I thought — ”

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart meowed. “I would have come, but we’ve been so busy since the fire. We have to rebuild the camp, and there’s not much prey left in the forest. And I have more duties since I was made deputy.”

“You’re deputy now? Of the whole Clan? Fireheart, that’s marvelous!”

Fireheart felt hot with embarrassment as Princess gazed at him.

Sandstorm gave a dry little cough. “There’s prey to be caught, Fireheart....”

“Yes, you’re right,” Fireheart mewed. “Princess, you’re very brave to have come so far, but you’d better get home now. The forest can be dangerous if you’re not used to it.”

“Yes, I know, but I—”

The roar of a Twoleg monster interrupted her, and at the same moment Fireheart’s nostrils were blasted with its harsh reek. The roaring grew louder, and a moment later the monster burst out of the trees, bouncing along the rutted track.

Instinctively, Fireheart and Sandstorm crouched beneath a blackened tree trunk, waiting for the monster to pass. Princess merely sat watching it curiously.

“Get downI ” Sandstorm hissed at her.

Princess looked puzzled, but she pressed herself obediently to the ground next to Fireheart.

Instead of passing, the monster stopped. The roaring was abruptly cut off. Part of the monster unfolded, and three Twolegs jumped out of its belly.

Fireheart exchanged a glance with Sandstorm and flattened himself even further. Princess might feel at home with the Twolegs and their monster, but they were too close for his liking, and the undergrowth was still not thick enough to provide decent cover. All Fireheart’s instincts were to run, but curiosity kept him pinned to the ground.

The Twolegs wore matching dark blue pelts. They had no Twoleg kits with them, or dogs, unlike most of the Twolegs who came to the forest. They spread out among the burned trees, yowling and stamping so that their paws threw up puffs of dust and ash. Sandstorm lowered her head and stifled a sneeze as one of them passed within a fox-length of where the three cats were crouching.

“What are they doing?” Fireheart murmured.

“Frightening off all the prey,” hissed Sandstorm, spitting out dust. “Honestly, Fireheart, who cares what Twolegs do? They’re all mad.”

“I don’t know. ...” Fireheart couldn’t help feeling that these Twolegs had a purpose, even if he didn’t understand what it was. The way they pointed with their paws and yowled at each other seemed to suggest they were moving deliberately through the forest.

Another Twolegs stamped past. He had picked up a branch and was using it to poke into hollows and under clumps of charred undergrowth. It almost looked as if he were hunting for prey, except for the noise he was making, which would have scared away the deafest rabbit.

“Do you know what it’s all about?” Fireheart asked Princess.

“I’m not sure,” his sister replied. “I understand a bit of their Twoleg talk, but it’s not words that my housefolk use. I think they’re calling for somebody, but I don’t know who.”

As Fireheart watched, the Twolegs threw the branch down. There was frustration in the movement. He yowled again, and the other Twolegs appeared from the trees. All three of them went back to the monster and climbed into its belly. The roar started up again, and the monster jerked into motion and vanished into the trees.

“Well!” Sandstorm sat up and began licking fastidiously at her ash-stained fur. “Thank StarClan they’ve gone!”

Fireheart got to his paws, keeping his gaze fixed on the place in the trees where the monster had disappeared. The sound had died away and the acrid smell was fading. “I don’t like it,” he meowed.

“Oh, come on, Fireheart!” Sandstorm padded to his side and gave him a nudge. “Why are you bothering about Twolegs? They’re weird, and that’s all there is to it.”

“No, I think they know what they’re doing, even if it looks weird to us,” Fireheart replied. “They usually bring their kits or their dogs to the forest — but these Twolegs didn’t. If Princess is right and they were looking for something, they didn’t find it. I’d like to know what it was.” He paused and then added, “Besides, we don’t normally see Twolegs in this part of the forest. They’re too close to the camp for my liking.”

Sandstorm’s impatient look softened, and she pressed her muzzle reassuringly against his shoulder. “You can tell the patrols to keep a lookout,” she reminded him.

“Yes.” Fireheart nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll do that.” Then realization hit him. “What if they’re looking for the dogs who live at Snakerocks!”

“Why would they?”

“Because if the dogs originally belonged to Twolegs, they might be hiding for now until they know the Twolegs won’t find them!” Fireheart gasped.

Sandstorm frowned. “That’s probably why they haven’t attacked any of us either, which means they have some kind of intelligence.” Groaning, she added, “I hate smart dogs. The tiny stupid ones are much easier to deal with.”

As he said good-bye to Princess, who looked very concerned at the notion of there being dangerous dogs anywhere near her son and brother, he struggled to push his growing anxiety out of his mind. Something was going on in the forest that he couldn’t fully understand, and he could not help fearing that it meant danger for his Clan.

Cutting across the corner of Tallpines, Fireheart and Sandstorm made for the river and Sunningrocks. There was no sign of prey anywhere among the scorched trees; the noise made by the Twolegs had seen to that.

“We’ll follow the RiverClan border up toward Fourtrees,” Fireheart decided. “There might be something there worth catching.”

But as they came within sight of Sunningrocks, Fireheart stopped at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. He looked up to see Graystripe and Silverstream poised on top of the nearest rock; the gray warrior and the silver queen scrambled down and bounded over to him.

“Fireheart! I was hoping to catch you.”

“A good thing a patrol didn’t catch you,” Sandstorm growled. “You’re very comfortable in our territory, for two RiverClan warrior.”

“Come off it, Sandstorm,” Graystripe meowed, giving her a good-natured push. “This is me, Graystripe, remember?”

“Only too well,” retorted Sandstorm. She sat down, licked a paw, and started washing her face.

“What’s the problem, Graystripe?” Fireheart asked, worried that his old friend wouldn’t have ventured into ThunderClan territory without good reason.

“It’s not exactly a problem,” replied the gray warrior. “At least, I hope it isn’t. Just something I thought you ought to know.”

“Spit it out, then,” meowed Sandstorm.

Graystripe flicked his tail at her. “Crookedstar had a visitor yesterday,” he told Fireheart. He narrowed his amber eyes. “It was Tigerstar.”

“What? What did he want?” Fireheart stammered.

Graystripe shook his head. “I don’t know. But Crookedstar is very weak now. The whole Clan knows he’s on his last life. Tigerstar spent only a short time with him, but he had a long talk with Leopardfur.”

The mention of the RiverClan deputy increased Fireheart’ s fears. What did she and Tigerstar have to say to each other? Visions of an alliance between ShadowClan and RiverClan raced through his mind, with ThunderClan trapped between the two of them. Then he tried to tell himself he was worrying unnecessarily. He had no reason to think that the two cats were planning anything.

“It’s not unknown for leaders to visit each other,” he pointed out. “If Crookedstar is dying, Tigerstar might want to pay his last respects.”

“Maybe.” Graystripe snorted. “But then why spend so much time with Leopardfur? I tried to get close enough to listen, and I heard Tigerstar say something about coming again to our camp.”

“Was that all he said?” Fireheart asked.

“That’s all I heard.” Graystripe ducked his head in embarrassment. “Leopardfur saw me and told me to stay out of her fur.”

“Perhaps Tigerstar’s just getting to know her,” Fireheart guessed. “She’ll be Clan leader, after all, when Crookedstar dies.”

Silverstream hissed angrily. “Before the time travelers said anything, Graystripe told me about everything Tigerstar did to ThunderClan. I don’t want that mangepelt anywhere near my kits or RiverClan.”

Fireheart turned as he heard another cat calling his name, and saw Mistyfoot pulling herself up out of the river.

“Oh, great StarClan!” exclaimed Sandstorm. “Are we going to have all of RiverClan over here?”

“Fireheart!” Mistyfoot panted, shaking off her fur; Sandstorm jumped back crossly as some of the spinning drops spattered against her paws. “Fireheart, have you seen Graypool anywhere?”

“Graypool?” Fireheart echoed, picturing the short-tempered elder whom Mistyfoot believed to be her mother. Fireheart still felt gratitude to the RiverClan queen for telling him the truth about the two ThunderClan kits she had brought up as her own, but he hadn’t seen her for a long time. “What would Graypool be doing here?”

“I don’t know.” Mistyfoot padded up the slope from the river, her face creased with anxiety. “I can’t find her in the camp. She’s so weak and confused these days. I’m afraid she’s wandered off and doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“She won’t be here,” Graystripe objected. “She’s not strong enough to swim the river.”

“Then where has she gone?” Mistyfoot’s voice rose into a wail. “I’ve looked in all the places I can think of near the camp, and she isn’t there. Besides, the river’s low just now, and it’s not too hard to swim across.”

Fireheart thought rapidly. If Graypool had somehow crossed the river into ThunderClan territory, she would need to be tracked down as soon as possible. His Clan mates were scared enough already of an invasion. He didn’t like to imagine what would happen if an aggressive cat like Darkstripe found her first.

“Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll follow the border up to Fourtrees with Silverstream to see if she’s gone that way. Sandstorm, you go back to camp. Tell the others what’s happened, and warn them not to attack Graypool if they see her.”

Sandstorm rolled her eyes. “All right,” she mewed as she got to her paws. “I’ll hunt on the way back, though. It’s time someone caught some fresh-kill for the Clan.” With her tail high she stalked off into the trees.

Mistyfoot dipped her head gratefully toward Fireheart. “Thank you,” she meowed. “I won’t forget this. And Fireheart — if you need to cross onto RiverClan territory to bring Graypool home, you can tell any cat who sees you that I gave you permission.”

“If I’m with him, they won’t be as concerned,” Silverstream pointed out.

“Oh, yes, because RiverClan is so happy with you since they found out about Graystripe,” Mistyfoot said dryly. “As I said, tell them I gave permission.”

Fireheart nodded his thanks. He could just imagine what would happen if he were caught on the wrong side of the border by a RiverClan patrol with Leopardfur at its head.

“Come on, Mistyfoot,” Graystripe meowed encouragingly. “I’ll swim back with you. We’ll check the camp again.”

“Thanks, Graystripe.” Mistyfoot pressed her nose briefly to the gray warrior’s fur, and both RiverClan cats bounded down the bank toward the river.

Graystripe glanced back swiftly to yowl good-bye, then launched himself into the water behind Mistyfoot. Fireheart watched them swimming strongly for the far bank before heading upstream toward Fourtrees with Silverstream.

*  *  *  *  *

They followed the border, Fireheart renewing the scent markings as he went. Silverstream rolled her eyes wondering why her mate’s best friend thought this was the best time. Finally, they were not far from Fourtrees. Silverstream hoped her kin hadn’t made it this far. But then, looking down a rocky slope toward the river, she caught sight of a skinny gray shape limping slowly over the Twoleg bridge that crossed the river on the route that RiverClan cats took to Fourtrees.

Graypool!

Fireheart opened his jaws to call out to her, and closed them again without making a sound. Silverstream could guess why: he old cat had crossed the bridge and was tottering along the very edge of the river. He was afraid that if she heard a strange cat calling to her, she would slip and fall to her death. Instead he began to make his way down the slope, creeping carefully under cover of the rocks in a hunting crouch so she would not see him and be startled. Silverstream followed silently.

After a few moments, she saw to his relief that Graypool had turned away from the river and was trying to climb the steep slope toward Fourtrees. Her claws scrabbled feebly on the boulders, and Silverstream wondered where she thought she was going. Did she imagine it was full moon and she was on her way to a Gathering?

Fireheart straightened up and opened his mouth once more to call to her, but again he bit back her name and slipped rapidly into the shelter of the nearest rock. Silverstream froze when she saw that another cat had appeared, bounding confidently from the direction of Fourtrees. There was no mistaking that huge, muscular body and dark tabby coat.

It was Tigerstar!

What is that mangepelt doing here now!

Fireheart peered out from behind his rock. Tigerstar had spotted Graypool and had changed direction toward her. As the dark tabby approached, Graypool reared back in surprise and fell, only to struggle back onto her paws and face Tigerstar. The ShadowClan leader padded up to her and meowed something, but Silverstream was too far away to make out the words.

Flattening his belly to the ground, he crept toward them, using all his hunting skills to stay undetected. Fortunately the wind was blowing toward him, so Tigerstar was unlikely to scent him. Silverstream guessed that Fireheart was unwilling to meet the ShadowClan leader unless he had to. With any luck, Tigerstar was on his way to visit Leopardfur again and would help Graypool back to the RiverClan camp.

Fireheart prowled closer, flattening himself against the turf until he and Silverstream. reached the shelter of another rock almost on a level with the other two cats. Tigerstar had visited RiverClan the day before. Why should he need to return so soon?

“Don’t pretend you don’t know me.” Fireheart hardly recognized the quavering voice as Graypool’s. “I know who you are, right enough. You’re Oakheart.”

Fireheart stiffened. Silverstream didn’t understand. Oakheart was the name of the cat who fathered Mosslight, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur, and he had been killed in battle just before Fireheart joined ThunderClan, but he had looked a little like Tigerstar — a big tom with a dark pelt. But why was Fireheart so worried?

With infinite caution, Fireheart raised his head to peer over the rock where he was sheltering. Silverstream did so as well. Graypool was crouched on a sparse patch of grass just above an outcrop of stones. She was looking up at Tigerstar, who loomed over her a couple of tail-lengths farther up the slope.

“I haven’t seen you for moons,” Graypool went on. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

Tigerstar stared down at her with narrowed eyes. Silverstream waited for him to tell the elderly she-cat that she had made a mistake. Her blood ran cold when Tigerstar just meowed, “Oh. . .here and there.”

What does he think he’s doing? Silverstream wondered.

“You might at least have come to see me,” Graypool complained. “Don’t you want to know how those kits are doing?”

The massive tom’s ears pricked up, and his amber eyes glowed with interest. “What kits?”

What kits is she talking about?

“What kits, he says!” Graypool broke into rusty laughter. “As if you didn’t know! The three ThunderClan kits that you asked me to take care of.”

What?

Fireheart froze beside her. Clearly Graypool had just given away an important, deeply buried secret!

Tigerstar’s muscles tensed, and he gazed at Graypool more intently still, his interest clear in every line of his body. He thrust his head forward and meowed something so softly that Silverstream could not catch it.

“Seasons ago,” replied Graypool, sounding puzzled. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. You... No, Oakheart wouldn’t need to ask that.” She staggered forward a couple of steps to peer more closely at Tigerstar.

“You’re not Oakheart!” she exclaimed.

“Never mind that,” Tigerstar mewed soothingly. “You can still tell me all about it. What ThunderClan kits? Who was their real mother?”

Silverstream was close enough to see the dazed look in Graypool’s eyes. She put her head on one side, gazing confusedly at the ShadowClan leader. “They were beautiful kits,” she meowed vaguely. “And now they’re fine warriors.”

Without waiting another heartbeat, Silverstream broke cover, pelting forward. I have to stop this!

Graypool broke off as Tigerstar thrust his muzzle into her face. “Tell me whose kits they were, old crowfood,” he demanded, losing his patience.

Silverstream could feel the way Fireheart stared in horror as, flustered, Graypool took a step back. Her paws slid from under her. She started to roll down the steep slope, but Silverstream reached the elder just in time.

Shoving Tigerstar out of the way, Silverstream grabbed Graypool by the scruff, digging her paws into the ground for purchase. Tensing every muscle as she strained, Silverstream backed up first one pawstep, then another. Now Graypool was no longer dangling, and it took only a moment to pull her to safe ground.

Graypool collapsed to the ground, her eyes closed, and her body trembling like a wet leaf. She looked exhausted from her near-death experience.

Feeling a sudden affection for the elder, Silverstream bent down to rasp her tongue comfortingly over Graypool’s head.

There was a scrambling of paws, and Silverstream looked up just in time to see Tigerstar barreling towards her. She had no time to react, and he hit her with such force, she flew backwards through the air. Then she was falling.

Silverstream opened her eyes to see she was standing beside a sunlit river. Another she-cat was standing there as well, and it took her a few heartbeats to recognize the pale silver fur of her mother.

“Willowbreeze?” she gasped, unsure whether she should feel happy to see her mother or upset at what it most likely meant. “Why am I here?”

A gentle tail rested on her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, my daughter. You have died once again.”

“I-is this permanent?” Silverstream asked haltingly. I won’t get to see my kits or Graystripe again? I’ll have to leave my father and sisters?

“I’m afraid so,” Willowbreeze meowed sadly. “But fear not. You died a true hero, saving an elder of your Clan. Thank you for saving my sister.”

“Did I see correctly?” Silverstream mewed. “Did Tigerstar truly–?”

Willowbreeze nodded grimly. “He hates Fireheart and Graystripe more than any other cat, and he was more than happy to take advantage of your heroic deed. I was able to pull your soul away before your body landed. It did not seem fair to force you to feel the pain of death a second time.

“Thank you,” Silverstream murmured. She buried her nose in her mother’s fur, allowing her to comfort her for the first time she could remember.

They stayed that way for some time. Then Willowbreeze meowed, “Rest now. Later, I will show you how to see your kits.”

*  *  *  *  *

Dismay and fury pulsed through Fireheart. Tigerstar gave Graypool a contemptuous look before he padded down to Silverstream’s motionless body and sniffed it, he sprang to his paws and raced across the slope. But before Fireheart reached him the ShadowClan leader spun around, without seeing his former enemy, and bounded away in the direction of Fourtrees and his own territory.

Fireheart reached Silverstream and gazed down at her. A trickle of blood came from her silver head where it had struck the rock. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. The she-cat was dead.

Fireheart lowered his head. “Good-bye, Silverstream,” he mewed softly. “StarClan will honor you.”

He stood in silent grief, wishing he had known Silverstream better. Her thoughtful kindness and easy wit reminded him of Sandstorm, and he while he would always wish Graystripe had stayed in ThunderClan, he would never stop feeling grateful to the RiverClan queen for making his best friend happy.

His sad reverie was interrupted by the voices of two cats, and he looked up to see Mistyfoot and Graystripe racing toward him from the river. Mistyfoot gave a shocked cry when she saw the exhausted elder and flung herself down on the turf to press her nose against Graypool’s side. Graypool stirred, looking up at her adopted daughter.

Then Graystripe saw Silverstream’s body and he let out a bone-chilling wail. “Nooo!” He pressed his muzzle to her fur.

“What happened?” asked Mistyfoot, clearly upset as well but somewhat calmer.

In an instant, Fireheart decided to keep quiet about Tigerstar. Any mention of the ShadowClan leader might risk exposing the truth about Bluestar’s kits, and Fireheart knew Graypool would never want that, not even within her own Clan. And if he told Graystripe, there was a chance his friend would do something rash and stuped. He glanced at the still silver body and asked forgiveness from StarClan for the half-truth he was about to tell.

“We saw Graypool climbing the slope,” he replied. “She slipped, and Silverstream pulled her to safety. But she lost her balance afterwards. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Fireheart.” Mistyfoot looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with sorrow. “I have been afraid for a while that something like this would happen. Silverstream died saving her Clanmate and her kin, and all of RiverClan will honor her for this.”

She bent her head to touch Silverstream’s body. Fireheart felt sympathy well up inside his chest. Silverstream had been her best friend, and she had even entrusted her with her relationship with Graystripe.

A low moan sounded, and Fireheart looked over to see Graystripe pressed against Silverstream’s side, as though trying to hold the warmth in her pelt by sheer force of will.

He looked up at Mistyfoot, his eyes bleak. “Will you help me take care of Featherkit and Stormkit?” Graystripe asked faintly. “They need someone besides their father to–”

“Of course, Graystripe,” Mistyfoot promised gently. “Willowmist and Minnowscale will help as well.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Mistyfoot.”

“Come on, Graystripe.” Mistyfoot gently nudged her friend. “Let’s take her back to camp.”

“I’ll help you,” Fireheart offered.

Mistyfoot sat up. “No,” she meowed. “You’ve done enough, Fireheart. Thank you, but this is for her own Clan to do.”

With great care she grasped Silverstream’s scruff in her jaws. Graystripe took hold of his mate’s body, eyes shining, and together the two cats carried her down the slope toward the Twoleg bridge. Graypool limped behind them, her tail trailed in the dust.

When they reached the other side of the river, Fireheart turned away, back to his own territory and the ThunderClan camp. His thoughts were churning. Tigerstar had found out that three RiverClan warriors had come from ThunderClan! Fireheart had no idea what Tigerstar would do with this knowledge. But he knew, as sure as the sun would rise the next morning, that the ShadowClan leader would make some use of it, and he had a sinking feeling the outcome could be disastrous for Bluestar and the whole of ThunderClan.

Fireheart stopped to hunt on the way home and arrived at the top of the ravine with a rabbit clamped firmly in his jaws. Looking down at the entrance to the camp, he saw that Goldenflower had brought her kits out into the bottom of the ravine; the two of them were chasing each other among the rocks, pretending to attack Brightheart, who flicked her tail at them and frisked about just out of their reach. As Fireheart padded down the ravine and dropped the rabbit to watch for a moment, Bramblekit bounded up to him and laid a mouse at his paws.

“Look, Fireheart!” he meowed triumphantly. “I caught it all by myself!”

“His first prey,” Goldenflower added with a fond look at her son.

Bramblekit’s amber eyes blazed with excitement. “Mother says I’ll be just as good a hunter as my father,” he told Fireheart.

Fireheart felt an pleasant jolt in his belly. He gave Goldenflower an amused glance. Goldenflower kept her eyes fixed on her son, but Fireheart could tell from her twitching tail tip that she knew he was watching her.

“Fireheart?” Bramblekit was looking puzzled. “May I give my mouse to the elders?”

Fireheart shook himself angrily. The kit had done very well to catch a mouse when he was still so young, and he deserved a bit of praise.

“Yes, of course!” he purred. “That was very well done for catching it. See if One-eye would like it. She might think it’s worth a story.”

Bramblekit’s eyes lit up. “Good idea!” he yowled. He snatched up the mouse and tore down the ravine to the camp entrance. His sister, Tawnykit, scampered after him.

Goldenflower was smiling at Fireheart. She turned and followed her kits back to camp.

Fireheart retrieved his rabbit and followed, deciding that he would take his prey to Cinderpelt and talk to her about Bramblekit at the same time. She might have some ideas about how best to handle the kit. The gray she-cat and Jayfeather had limped back into the camp very late the night after the medicine-cat gathering at Highstones; Fireheart knew that both had been exhausted, but it had seemed that the light of the Moonstone still glimmered in Cinderpelt’s eyes.

As Fireheart pushed his way into the clearing through the newly growing gorse tunnel, he saw that Cinderpelt was sitting with Speckletail and Dovewing outside the nursery. The medicine cat was watching Snowkit, who patted at something on the ground a few tail-lengths from his mother. Honeykit and Hollykit sat a little farther away, watching with curiosity.

Good, Fireheart thought. Now we should be able to find out if there ’s something wrong with Snowkit.

He padded over to the three she-cats and dropped the rabbit beside Cinderpelt. “That’s for you,” he meowed. “How do you feel after your journey?”

Cinderpelt turned to look at him. Her blue eyes were tranquil. “I’m fine,” she purred. “Thanks for the rabbit. Speckletail and I were just having a chat about Snowkit.”

“There’s nothing to chat about,” Speckletail muttered, hunching her shoulders. She sounded cranky, but there was a new sense of authority about Cinderpelt, and Fireheart guessed that the older she-cat hadn’t dared to refuse outright to talk to her.

Cinderpelt dipped her head. “Just call him to you, would you?” she asked.

Speckletail snorted and called out, “Snowkit! Snowkit, come here!”

She beckoned with her tail as she spoke. Snowkit got up, abandoning the ball of moss he had been playing with, and padded over to his mother. Speckletail bent down and gave his ear a lick.

“Good,” meowed Cinderpelt. “Now, Fireheart, go over there and call him to you, will you?” She nodded toward a spot a few fox-lengths away. In a lower voice she added, “Don’t move. Just use your voice.”

Puzzled, Fireheart did as she asked. This time, although Snowkit was looking straight at him, he didn’t move. There was no response from him at all, even when Fireheart called three or four times. Honeykit raised his paw to stomp down, but Hollykit blocked him with her tail, shaking her head.

A few other cats paused on their way to the pile of fresh-kill and came to see what was going on. Bluestar — roused by the sound of voices, Fireheart guessed — emerged from her den and sat watching near the base of the Highrock. Dappletail, who was strolling back to the elders’ den, stopped beside Speckletail and said something to her. Speckletail spat an irritated reply, but Fireheart was too far away to hear what the two cats had said to each other. Dappletail ignored Speckletail’s snappishness and sat down next to Cinderpelt to watch closely.

Fireheart kept on calling Snowkit until Speckletail stomped, nodding in his direction, and the kit came bounding across.

“Well done,” Fireheart meowed, and repeated his praise when Snowkit looked at him intently.

After a pause the kit mewed, “S’all right,” but the words sounded so distorted that Fireheart could hardly understand him.

He led Snowkit back to his mother and Cinderpelt. By now he was beginning to suspect what the trouble was, and he felt no surprise when Cinderpelt turned to Speckletail and meowed, “I’m sorry, Speckletail— Snowkit is deaf.”

Speckletail worked her paws on the ground in front of her. Her expression was a mixture of grief and anger. “I know he’s deaf!” she snapped at last. “I’m his mother. Do you think I wouldn’t know?”

“White cats with blue eyes are often deaf,” Dappletail mewed to Fireheart. “I remember one of my first litter...” She sighed.

“What happened to him?” Fireheart asked, relieved that Cloudpaw, who was also white with blue eyes, had good hearing.

“No cat knows,” Dappletail told him sadly. “He disappeared when he was three moons old. We thought a fox must have gotten him.”

Speckletail gathered Snowkit closer to her, fiercely protective. “Well, a fox won’t get this one!” she vowed. “I can look after him.”

“I’m sure you can,” Bluestar mewed, padding over to them. “But I’m afraid he can never be a warrior.”

This was one of Bluestar’s good days, Fireheart realized. Her voice was sympathetic but determined, and her eyes were clear.

“Why can’t he be a warrior?” Speckletail demanded. “There’s nothing else wrong with him. He’s a good, strong kit. He gets on just fine if you signal what he’s got to do.”

“That’s not enough,” Bluestar told her. “A mentor couldn’t teach him to fight or hunt by signals. He couldn’t hear commands in a battle, and how could he catch prey if he can’t listen, or hear the sound of his own pawsteps?”

Speckletail leaped to her paws with her fur bristling, and for a few moments Fireheart thought she might spring at Bluestar. Then she whipped around, nudged Snowkit to his paws, and vanished with him inside the nursery.

“She’s taking it badly,” Dappletail remarked.

“How do you expect her to take it?” asked Cinderpelt. “She’s getting old. This could well be her last kit, and now she learns he can’t ever be a warrior.”

“Cinderpelt, you must talk to her,” Bluestar ordered. “Make her see that the needs of the Clan must come first.”

“Yes, of course, Bluestar,” Cinderpelt mewed, with a respectful nod to her leader. “But I think it’s best for her to have a little time alone with Snowkit first, to let her get used to the idea that the rest of the Clan knows about his deafness.”

Dovewing had been watching silently, but now she glared at Bluestar and charged forward. “You’re wrong, Bluestar!” she hissed.

Fireheart flinched. Had the gray she-cat actually said that?

“How am I wrong?” Bluestar asked calmly.

“Snowkit can and will become a warrior!” Dovewing growled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve spent the last few moons teaching him and the other kits how to communicate by a special paw stomp and tail signal system. They’ve all picked it up quickly and eagerly, and Snowkit’s even learning how to read lips.”

The ThunderClan leader raised an eyebrow. “But will it be enough?”

“What exactly are you worried about?” Dovewing demanded.

“I’m worried some kind of predator will come into the camp or the forest and Snowkit will have no idea because he can’t hear it.”

The time traveler rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t have to. I’ve taught him and the others several simple signals to let each other know that there’s danger nearby. Brackenfur has learned the system too, and he’ll be able to communicate directly with Snowkit. Your fears don’t have much to stand on.”

Bluestar nodded agreement. “Very well,” she meowed. “I will allow Snowkit to demonstrate his ability to communicate and be communicated with first before I decide his fate.” With that, she padded back toward her den. Fireheart couldn’t help feeling relieved. Bluestar was considered some options about Snowkit’s future in the Clan. She still had that compassion and understanding he’d always seen in her. He sighed, wondering what would become of Snowkit.

Chapter Text

The sun was rising over the trees as Fireheart and his patrol approached Snakerocks, on the opposite side of the territory to the river. The fire had not reached this far; the undergrowth was still lush and green, though leaves had begun to fall.

“Hold on,” Fireheart meowed to Thornclaw as the newest warrior dashed toward the rocks. “Don’t forget there are adders around here.”

Thornpaw skidded to a halt. “Sorry, Fireheart.”

Since Bluestar had made them warriors, Fireheart had made a point of spending time with all the youngest warriors in turn, including at least one of them in every patrol. 

Mousefur, Thornclaw’s former mentor, padded up to him. “Tell me what you can smell.”

Thornclaw, seemingly unphased by this, stood with his head raised and jaws parted, drinking in the air. “Mouse!” he mewed almost at once, swiping his tongue around his mouth.

“Yes, but we’re not hunting now,” Mousefur reminded him. “What else?”

“The Thunderpath — over there.” Thornclaw gestured with his tail. “And dog.”

Fireheart, who had been lapping water from a hollow in the ground, pricked up his ears. Tasting the air, he realized that Thornclaw was right. There was a strong scent of dog, and it was fresh.

“That’s odd,” he commented. “I thought the dogs at Snakerocks were still hiding.”

He remembered Dovewing’s story about how the dogs would stay hidden at Snakerocks until the time came for ThunderClan to deal with them. She had promised they had at least two Gatherings to go.

“We’d better take a good look around,” he meowed.

Ordering Thornclaw not to leave the older warrior, Fireheart sent the other cats into the trees while he crept closer to the rocks. Before he reached them, he was called back by Mousefur.

“Come and look at this!”

Skirting a bramble thicket, Fireheart joined the brown warrior and looked down into a small, steep-sided clearing. There was a stagnant pool of greenish water at the bottom, choked with fallen leaves. The sharp scent of crushed ferns reached Fireheart’s scent glands, but it was barely noticeable under the overpowering stench of dog. Pigeon feathers were scattered all around, and scraps of fur that might have been squirrel or rabbit. A little way down the slope, Thornclaw sniffed at a pile of dog dung, and recoiled with a snort of disgust.

Fireheart forced himself to take in every detail of the scene. Twoleg dogs didn’t usually stay in the forest long enough to leave this many traces, trampling the undergrowth and scattering the remains of prey until the forest reeked like a fox’s hole. Seeing it with his own eyes made him realize that something was definitely wrong.

“What do you think?” asked Mousefur.

“I don’t know.” Fireheart was reluctant to voice his worries. “It looks as if there might be a dog loose in the forest, free from the Twolegs. It might be from the dog pack Dovewing warned us about.”

Was that truly what those Twolegs had been looking for? he wondered, suddenly remembering the three who had come in the monster when he was hunting in Tallpines with Sandstorm. But that had been a long way from here, on the other side of ThunderClan territory.

“What are we going to do?” Thornclaw piped up, looking unusually serious.

“I’ll report it to Bluestar,” Fireheart decided. “If there is a dog wandering around in our territory, we’ll need to do something about it. Maybe we can lead it away somehow.”

The dog was clearly taking prey that ThunderClan couldn’t spare, and Fireheart didn’t like to think of what might happen if it met one of the Clan warriors face-to-face.

As he turned away from the clearing and led the way back toward the camp, Fireheart could not help feeling that the forest around him had become strangely hostile. He knew every tree and stone, yet there was something in its depths — not quite a scent, nor a sound, more like an echo on the edge of hearing — that he did not understand. Was it just the dogs?

The patrol had almost reached the camp when Fireheart scented ThunderClan cats behind him. Turning, he saw Whitestorm, Needlenose, Brightheart, and Cloudpaw picking their way through the blackened debris on the forest floor. All of them were carrying fresh-kill.

“Good hunting?” Fireheart asked as they caught up with him.

Whitestorm dropped the rabbit he was carrying. “Not bad,” he replied. “But we had to go all the way to Fourtrees to find it.”

“Still, it looks good and fat,” Fireheart meowed approvingly. “Well done,” he added to Brightheart and Cloudpaw, who were both dragging squirrels.

Cloudpaw purred. “Brightheart is a brilliant hunter!”

Her fur prickled with embarrassment. “You’re just as good as I am.”

“Yeah but you make it look so easy,” Cloudpaw said cheerfully.

“We saw something I think you ought to know about,” mewed Whitestorm. “Let’s get back to camp.”

The white warrior picked up his rabbit again and fell in behind Fireheart as he led the way down the ravine. Once they had deposited the fresh-kill on the pile and Fireheart had sent the apprentices off to feed the elders, he took a piece for himself and crouched beside Whitestorm to eat it. Mousefur picked out a blackbird from the heap and came to join them, as did Needlenose.

“So what did you see?” Fireheart asked, when a few mouthfuls of vole had taken the edge off the hunger in his belly.

He saw Whitestorm’s expression darken and guessed the answer before the white warrior spoke. “More scattered prey,” Whitestorm meowed. “Scraps of rabbit fur. And more dog scent. Not far from Fourtrees this time, near the border with RiverClan.”

“Fresh scent?”

“Yesterday’s, I’d guess.”

Fireheart nodded, anxiety prickling in his paws. Clearly the dog had ranged much farther than he had first thought. Gulping down the last of his vole, he told Whitestorm what his dawn patrol had found that morning.

“The whole place stank,” Mousefur contributed, looking up from her meal. “There’s more than one dog in our territory, isn’t there, killing our prey?”

“Yes, I think so.” Fireheart turned to Whitestorm. “When you told me about the first lot of scent you found, I hoped that the dogs would have gone home by now with its Twolegs. But they obviously haven’t. This is most likely the pack Dovewing warned us about.”

“We’ll have to get rid of it somehow,” Whitestorm meowed grimly.

“I know. I’m going to report it to Bluestar. She’ll probably want to hold a Clan meeting.”

Needlenose shivered. “How do we fight a pack of dogs?”

Whitestorm met her gaze. “I have no idea.”

Leaving the three warriors, Fireheart padded across the camp toward the Highrock. As sunhigh approached, the life of the camp went on peacefully around him. Ashpaw was scuffling with Redpaw and Robinpaw outside the apprentices’ den. The pale gray apprentice now had a scratch on one shoulder, and Fireheart couldn’t help but feel confused at his new injury. Near the warriors’ den, Frostfur and Brindleface were sharing tongues, both of them looking half-asleep after taking the watch the previous night. In the center of the clearing Speckletail was signaling with paws and tail to her kit in the system Dovewing had devised, while Brackenfur looked on. A pang of fear struck deep into Fireheart as he imagined the havoc that the dog pack could create if it found the camp.

He had almost reached Bluestar’s den when Brackenfur got up and bounded across to him. “Fireheart, may I have a word?”

Fireheart paused. “If it’s quick. I have to speak to Bluestar.”

“It’s Speckletail,” Brackenfur explained. “I’m worried about her. She thinks Snowkit should be an apprentice, and she’s trying to mentor him herself. She thinks that would be able to train him better than any cat.”

Now that Fireheart looked more closely at the mother and her kit, he could see that they weren’t just playing — at least, Speckletail wasn’t. She was showing Snowkit the hunting crouch. Snowkit seemed to be having fun, dropping down into a low crouch, copying her movements with surprising accuracy.

Fireheart watched them with growing amusement. “Parents shouldn’t mentor their own kits.” He sighed after a moment. “If Speckletail realizes for herself that other cats have faith in her son, maybe she’ll let him enjoy the rest of his kithood.”

“Maybe.” Brackenfur didn’t sound convinced. “I’d like to watch them for a bit, anyway, and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Fireheart studied him approvingly. Though Brackenfur had not been a warrior for many moons, he had the serious air of a much older cat. He was ready for an apprentice, and Fireheart was sure he would make a fine mentor — patient and responsible. He would be a good match for Snowkit, especially since he had already learned the communication system Dovewing had made. Fireheart knew that the deaf kit would have a mentor, would travel to Gatherings, and would know the fierce joy of being a warrior in the service of his Clan.

“Seeing as it’s something you’ve already been doing, that’s fine, provided it doesn’t interfere with your warrior duties,” Fireheart mewed. “If you think of anything, let me know. I’ll talk to Cinderpelt again.”

“Thanks, Fireheart,” meowed Brackenfur. He settled himself on the ground, paws tucked neatly under his chest, and went on watching Speckletail and Snowkit.

Fireheart hesitated, feeling optimistic for the deaf kit and his mother, and for Brackenfur, whose hopes of becoming a mentor would hopefully be realized this time. Then he turned away to go and find Bluestar.

The Clan leader was lying on her bedding in the far corner of her den. The sunlight did not reach her there, and she looked like a gray shadow. But the remains of a squirrel showed that she had eaten, and as Fireheart paused on the threshold, she was twisting her head around to wash her back.

He scraped his claws on the ground to draw her attention, and when she turned to look at him he meowed, “Bluestar, may I come in? I’ve something to report.”

“Of course, Fireheart, come in and tell me what’s on your mind.”

“We think there’s a dog pack loose in the forest, the same one Dovewing told us about.” Fireheart described the first time Whitestorm had discovered the scattered prey near Snakerocks, what his patrol had seen that morning, and the rabbit remains that Whitestorm had found near Fourtrees.

Bluestar sat in silence, staring at the wall, until Fireheart finished. Then her head snapped around to face him. “Near Fourtrees? Where?”

“By the RiverClan border, Whitestorm said.”

Bluestar let out a snarl and dug her claws into the floor of her den. “That’s unfortunate” she growled. “The dogs must not be limiting their hunting to our territory.”

Fireheart stared at her. “I’m sorry, Bluestar. I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you’re thinking like a Clan cat!” Bluestar growled. Suddenly she seemed to relax. “Fireheart, you are a good and noble warrior. But these dogs aren’t warriors. They follow no code, accept no borders. If they find good hunting in WindClan or RiverClan, they’ll happily take advantage of it.”

Is she saying what I think she is? Fireheart thought.

His mind spinning, he realized that Bluestar was thinking in a bigger picture than he was.

“But Bluestar,” Fireheart protested, “everything we know about the dogs traces them back to Snakerocks. Why would they go after the prey from other Clans?”

Bluestar sighed. “Because they can,” she hissed, her tail lashing from side to side. “Free dogs behave like that. There are some that come here with their Twolegs, and their Twolegs take them away again. But sometimes there are others roaming free in the forest in the forest, and they’re big enough and strong enough to threaten all Clans.”

“You may be right,” Fireheart muttered. “If that’s the case, we’ll have to warn the other Clans about it at the Gathering.”

Before he could say anything else, a loud yowling broke out from the clearing. It was the sound of many cats raising their voices in a terrible screech of fear. Fireheart spun around and raced out of Bluestar’s den.

The center of the clearing was almost deserted, bathed in bright light where the normally leafy cover had been burned away. Cats crouched around the edges in the scant shelter of the charred fern walls.

Fireheart caught a glimpse of Goldenflower and Willowpelt pushing their kits into the nursery. Brackenfur was nudging a couple of the elders toward their den, urging them to hurry.

The cats at the edge of the clearing were staring up at the sky, their eyes huge with fear. As he looked upward, Fireheart heard the beating of wings and saw a hawk circling above the trees, its harsh cry drifting on the air. At the same time he realized that one cat had not taken shelter; Snowkit was still tumbling and playing in the middle of the open space.

“Snowkit!” Speckletail yowled desperately.

She was just emerging from behind the nursery, the place where the queens went to make dirt, and she darted toward her kit as soon as she realized what was happening. In the same heartbeat the hawk plunged down toward the clearing.

Dovewing reacted quickly, slamming her forepaw into the ground three times. Fireheart recognized the signal from Bramblekit: large bird attacking; roll over and lash out

Snowkit recognized it too, and he dropped onto his back a heartbeat before the cruel talons could fasten fasten onto his back. Attacking with all four paws, Snowkit dug his claws into the hawk’s belly. The great wings thrashed as the hawk screeched in pain, blood welling up from the wounds Snowkit had inflicted. Fireheart raced forward to help, but Speckletail was faster still. As the hawk lifted off, she sprang upward and snagged her claws in the hawk’s tail.

For a couple of agonizing heartbeats, the hawk fought to get away. Dovewing charged towards it, bundling Snowkit towards Fireheart before hurtling over the hawk’s head. She landed perfectly balanced on the its back and bit deeply into the hawk’s neck. With an agonized screech, the hawk gave a massive shudder and fell the remaining way to the ground, dead.

“Oh!” Speckletail ran past Fireheart and began licking Snowkit frantically. “My kit! Oh, my kit! Are you okay?”

Snowkit wriggled in embarrassment. “ ’m fine,” he muttered. Brandishing his his claws, he began to pluck out the feathers he’d ripped from the hawk’s stomach, carefully cleaning the blood from his claws.

Brackenfur dashed past Fireheart, sniffing at the hawk. “You killed it!” he exclaimed, staring at Dovewing in amazement.

“I had help,” she pointed out, motioning towards the two cats behind her.

The rest of the cats, stunned by shock, gradually crept out into the clearing again and formed a ragged circle around Speckletail and Snowkit.

“He couldn’t hear,” Sandstorm murmured, touching her nose to Fireheart’s cheek. “He couldn’t hear the hawk, but he managed to fight it anyways.”

“I have been proven wrong,” meowed Bluestar.

Fireheart turned to see his leader pacing toward them. The broad-shouldered gray she-cat looked strong and determined, more like a warrior than any of the other cats, amazed as they were at Snowkit’s fight against the hawk.

“I was wrong,” she repeated. “Whoever heard of a hawk that dared to swoop down and take a kit from the middle of a camp, with so many other cats around? And yet, young Snowkit didn’t hesitate to fight back, even wounding his attacker. This is a sign from StarClan. I cannot deny the truth any longer.” Bluestar gazed at her shocked, assembled Clan, and her voice vibrated with pride. “Snowkit is capable of becoming a warrior.”

The cats burst out murmuring. Fireheart could tell they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. He was having trouble believing it as well. But Snowkit wasn’t a newborn anymore. He might not have been as big or as strong as his denmates, but he was still almost old enough to be apprenticed. He’d showed that to the hawk himself.

Bluestar continued. “When he turns six moons, Brackenfur, you will be his mentor.”

Brackenfur purred. “Thank you, Bluestar!”

Nodding, Bluestar smiled for another heartbeat before letting her gaze darken. “While I would prefer to focus on the good news, Fireheart does have a warning to share with you.” She motioned for him to speak.

Fireheart took a step forward on top of the rock and gazed down at the concerned faces. “There’s something else I need to tell you,” he began. “We think there’s a loose dog pack on ThunderClan territory, the same one Dovewing warned us about. We haven’t seen it, but we’ve scented it at Snakerocks and near Fourtrees.”

An anxious murmur rose from the cats, and Sandstorm called out, “What about the dogs at the farm beyond WindClan territory? Maybe it’s one of those.”

“Maybe,” Fireheart agreed, remembering how Barley had warned about the savage creatures when he’d been returning from the Moonstone while he was still an apprentice. “Until it goes away again,” he went on, “we all have to be especially careful. Apprentices mustn’t go out without a warrior. And all cats who leave camp have an extra duty. Look for traces of this dog — scent, pawmarks, scattered scraps of prey. ...”

“And dung,” Mousefur put in. “The filthy creatures never think of burying it.”

“Right,” meowed Fireheart. “If you come across anything like that, report it to me right away. We need to find out where the dog has made its den.”

As he gave his orders he did his best to hide his growing sense of dread. He could not stifle the feeling that the forest was watching him, concealing a deadly enemy somewhere among the trees. At least the threat from Tigerstar was a straightforward fear of attack from a known enemy. This hidden dog pack was another matter, unseen and unpredictable, even with information from the future.

Dismissing the Clan, Fireheart leaped down from the Highrock and made his way toward Cinderpelt’s den. On the way, he spotted Brackenfur celebrating with Snowkit, he smiled as he met Fireheart’s gaze.

“Where’s Speckletail?” asked Brackenfur.

“With Cinderpelt,” Fireheart guessed, having not seen the older queen leave. “I’ll go check on her. You two help yourself to fresh-kill and then get some rest.”

He waited to see that the two cats obeyed his order before continuing to Cinderpelt’s den. Sandstorm fell into step beside him. When they reached the clearing outside the medicine cat’s den, they found Speckletail lying there with Brindleface crouched beside her, licking her gently.

Cinderpelt emerged from the cleft in the rock carrying a folded leaf in her mouth, which she set down on the ground in front of Speckletail. “Poppy seeds,” she mewed. “Eat them, Speckletail, and they’ll make you sleep.”

At first Fireheart thought Speckletail had not heard her; then she half sat up, turned her head, and slowly licked up the poppy seeds from the leaf.

“I have such a brave son,” she mewed, her voice hoarse. Fireheart guessed she was in shock at having almost lost her son. “But I can’t fight the way I used to. Once he begins his training, I’ll be joining the elders.”

“And they’ll welcome you,” Sandstorm murmured, crouching beside the older cat as the poppy seeds took effect and her head gradually lowered into sleep. Fireheart glanced admiringly at his mate; she was a skilled warrior, and he had reason to know the sharpness of her tongue, but she had a gentle side too, one that seemed to be coming out more and more as her pregnancy progressed.

He was roused from his thoughts when he heard Cinderpelt clearing her throat, and he saw that the medicine cat had padded over to sit beside him. From the look she was giving him he realized that she must have spoken to him and was waiting for a response.

“Sorry — what?” he mewed.

“If you’re not too busy to listen,” Cinderpelt meowed dryly, “I said that I’ll keep Speckletail with me overnight.”

“Good idea, thanks.” Fireheart realized that Cinderpelt must have been with Speckletail when he had been telling the Clan about the loose dog. “There’s something else you need to know.”

“Oh? What is it?

Speaking softly so that Speckletail did not hear him, Fireheart told Cinderpelt about the evidence that a dog pack was loose in the forest, and how Bluestar was convinced that it was a threat to all the Clans. “She’s so considerate,” he finished. “She must be, to think about a danger to other Clans. And there’s a Gathering in a few nights. What’s going to happen if she announces a dog pack in front of the other cats?”

“Now wait a minute,” Cinderpelt meowed. “This is your Clan leader you’re talking about. You should respect her opinions even if you don’t agree with them.”

“I do agree with her!” Fireheart protested. “I’m just worried that the other Clans will think she’s using dogs as an excuse to cover up prey-stealing that isn’t happening.” His raised voice made Sandstorm prick up her ears as she lay beside Speckletail, and he lowered it again as he added, “Bluestar is a great leader. Every cat knows that. But now. . .I don’t want this to go wrong.”

“You should still try to accept her decision. If the dogs are that big of a threat, at least the other Clans will know about them.”

For a few heartbeats Fireheart felt surprised that Cinderpelt, who had once been his apprentice, should be talking to him like this. Then he realized that she was right. If the other Clans decided to get angry about what Bluestar had to say, that was their decision. His decision would be support Bluestar no matter what.

“You’re right, Cinderpelt,” he meowed quietly. “I’m going to trust Bluestar.”

Cinderpelt snorted. “Good.”

Sandstorm padded up, having left Speckletail to join them. “Did you work out what you needed to?” she asked calmly.

“I did,” Fireheart replied. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course.” She touched her muzzle to his. Flicking her tail toward Speckletail, she added, “She’s asleep. I’ll leave her to you and Jayfeather, Cinderpelt.”

“If he ever stops herb-collecting,” the medicine cat muttered. “He’s been out in the forest so much gathering herbs that I’ve scarcely seen him. I know he’s worried, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish he would stay here more often.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Thanks for your help, Sandstorm.”

Just then, Ashpaw ducked into the den, a pigeon clamped in his jaws. Fireheart blinked at him in surprise, and the young tom winced. “Er, hi,” he muttered. “I came to bring this prey to Speckletail, and see if Jayfeather was here to treat this scratch.” He looked at the injury on his shoulder, and Fireheart was reminded of his earlier worries.

“Is that from training?” Fireheart asked.

Ashpaw shook his head quickly. “No, I just scraped it on a tree trunk while I was hunting. It was stupid.” Quickly, as if desperate to change the subject, he mewed, “How’s Ivypool?”

“No change yet,” Cinderpelt sighed. “It’s as if her injuries don’t want to heal until she wakes up.”

With a wince, Fireheart remembered the truth of the fight, that Ivypool and Hollyleaf had fought Brokenstar’s dark spirit in the middle of the camp during the fire. That must be why she wouldn’t heal.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he assured his former apprentice. “StarClan will show you what to do.”

“I hope so.”

Fireheart and Sandstorm left the den, but he could still feel Cinderpelt’s worry. What if Ivypool never woke up?

Chapter Text

“Mudfur?” Leopardfur whispered through the darkness. Her mew echoed around the walls of the cave. “When do I touch the Moonstone?”

“Soon.” Mudfur’s paws brushed the stone. She could just make him out in the starlight filtering through a hole in the high roof. He was staring up at it expectantly, his pelt fluffed out against the chill of the cavern.

She shifted her paws, the stone like ice beneath them. Which StarClan cats would grant her nine lives? Her belly tightened. There were so many cats she longed to see again, and some she dreaded. Would Whitefang be there? She was glad Mudfur had made the long journey with her across the moor to Highstones. “How long does the ceremony take?”

As she blinked at him, moonlight sliced through the darkness. It touched the Moonstone, and it lit up like sunlight sparkling on water, shimmering on countless ripples.

Leopardfur narrowed her eyes, flinching away. “It’s so bright.”

“Go on.” Mudfur nudged her gently forward.

Nervously, she crossed the stone floor, the cold air reaching deep into her pelt, and stopped beside the brilliant Moonstone. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and touched her nose to the rock. The ground seemed to drop away. Her heart lurched as moonlight swirled around her. For a moment she felt she was falling, and then there was soft grass beneath her paws. She opened her eyes to find herself in a dark hollow. She looked up and saw stars spinning in the black sky. Her breath caught as their silvery light swirled around her. She smelled the river and the moor and the forest —the scents of all the Clans were mingled here—and suddenly the slopes glittered with starry pelts. Eyes blazed and pelts sparkled as countless faces stared down at her.

Overwhelmed, Leopardfur fought the urge to crouch against the earth. Was all of StarClan here?

A huge, long-furred gray tom padded forward and dipped his head as he reached her. “Welcome to StarClan.” His mew seemed to rumble deep beneath his thick, silver fur. “I am Riverstar.”

Leopardfur blinked at him, lost for words. The first leader of RiverClan had come to her ceremony. She bowed her head stiffly, wondering if it was the right way to greet the ancient tom.

“You will bring strength to RiverClan at a time when they need it.” He padded closer. “With this life, I give you acceptance.”

“Acceptance?” Leopardfur’s pelt rippled with surprise. Surely, acceptance was for the weak, for warriors who had no other choice.

Riverstar’s eyes gleamed. Was that amusement in them? “You will need it. Difficult things are coming. Secrets hidden for seasons are coming to light, and you must protect the cats who will be in danger.” He reached out and touched his nose to her head. Agony blazed beneath her pelt as the new life rushed through her. She tried to flinch away, but her paws seemed to be rooted to the earth. Water glittered around her; fish flashed at the edge of her vision; wind roared through trees she couldn’t see.

She gasped as he stepped away, feeling as weak as a newborn kit. If this was what it was to receive a life, she didn’t know if she could bear eight more. She trembled as Riverstar padded away and disappeared among the starry pelts.

Another cat stepped forward, a slender orange-and-white she-cat with golden eyes. “I am Dappled Pelt,” the she-cat introduced. “I am here to give the life Whiteclaw was meant to when he was supposed to die.

“Whiteclaw.” Her heart leaped. Her former apprentice would have given her a life tonight then?

Dappled Pelt blinked at her calmly, her eyes sparkling with starlight. “You trained him to be a loyal RiverClan warrior,” he mewed. “It’s all he ever wanted to be.” She leaned forward. “With this life, I give you empathy, because you always understood your Clanmates.” As Dappled Pelt touched her nose to her head, the awe that had gripped her heart seemed to soften. There was no pain this time. Warmth flowed through her, soft as leaf-fall sunshine. As he stepped away, she opened her eyes and blinked, wishing he could stay. “Thank you, Dappled Pelt.” There was so much she wanted to ask her, but she turned and slid back among her Clanmates.

Another cat had taken his place. Leopardfur recognized him at once. “Hailstar.” She dipped her head quickly. “I’m honored.”

“You fought fearlessly against those rats,” he mewed. “You have always had the courage and determination to be one of RiverClan’s greatest leaders.”

She glanced at her paws self-consciously. He’d remembered her courage.

“With this life, I give you bravery.” He touched his nose to her head, and, once more, agony pierced her and she had to grit her teeth to stop herself crying out. Hailstar’s memories flashed around her like claws—pelts twisting; teeth snapping; enemies shrieking She pressed back terror as the scent of blood filled her nose. Then it faded and she opened her eyes.

Hailstar was watching her. As she caught her breath, he spoke again. “Protect your Clan with your life.”

As he padded away, another cat stopped in front of her. Her heart ached as she recognized Frogleap. She could only stare at him wordlessly and he purred, his starlit eyes filled with affection. “With this life, I give you devotion,” he whispered. “Because you are devoted to your Clan.” Then he touched her head and she felt water press around her, crushing her until she could barely breathe. She fought, trying to break free. But the water was too heavy. There was no escape. She stopped struggling, and as she did, the water eased its grip and she felt its embrace like a mother’s, wrapping her in love.

Leopardfur staggered to keep on her paws as the vision faded. She wondered whether it always hurt this much for a leader to receive their lives—was it supposed to hurt this much? She blinked at Frogleap. “Have you watched your kits’ training?”

His eyes shone brighter. “Yes.”

“I’m glad we could save them.”

“They are loved here too, by those who watch over them.” He turned away and another cat took his place.

“Oakheart.” She greeted the RiverClan deputy with a polite nod.

“You have grown,” he mewed approvingly. “And learned much from Crookedstar.”

“Is he here yet?” she asked him. Would she see him?

“He's resting,” Oakheart told her. “He's earned it.” He touched her head with his nose. “With this life, I give you unity, so that RiverClan may never be divided.” She cringed, but as his breath billowed around her ears, she felt only determination hardening in her belly like amber, growing warm and golden inside her as though sunshine drenched it. Thats more like it.

She managed a nod as he padded away and another cat stepped from the ranks of StarClan warriors. Leopardfur blinked at her. Silverstream was padding toward her.

“I’m sorry,” Leopardfur blurted. “I should have given you the help you needed, not the help I thought you should have.”

Silverstream’s blue eyes were filled with pity. She stopped in front of Leopardfur and gazed at her. “With this life, I give you forgiveness,” she mewed, then touched her nose to Leopardfur’s head. Guilt seared like flames through Leopardfur until she was breathless with the pain; then it disappeared, quenched by a sense of peace and kindness that felt like the soft brush of a tail on her cheek. Tranquility enfolded her as Silverstream stepped away.

Leopardfur called after her. “Stormkit and Featherkit will always safe and happy in RiverClan.”

Silverstream glanced back at her. “I know,” she mewed. “Thank you for letting me bring them home. But there’s something you need to know. My death wasn’t an accident.”

“It wasn’t?” Horror, sharp as pike’s teeth stabbed through her. “Then what did happen?”

Anger glinted in Silverstream’s eyes. “When Graypool wandered off, Fireheart and I found her, but we weren’t the only ones: Tigerstar found her too.” Tigerstar? “Graypool was confused and thought Tigerstar was Oakheart, and she started rambling. I guess Tigerstar thought she knew some kind of big secret, because when she stopped speaking, he tried to intimidate her. She backed up and started to fall. I managed to pull her to safety, but I let my guard down. Then Tigerstar charged and knocked me to my my death.”

“Tigerstar did what!?” Fury scorched Leopardfur’s pelt, and her fur bristled. “How dare that mangepelt kill one of my Clanmates!”

“He’s more dangerous than you realize,” Silverstream warned. “He hates ThunderClan and is willing to use any Clan, any power he can get his paws on to get vengeance. When he comes to you like a leader, you must realize he’s no better than a rogue.”

Leopardfur glared inwardly. “If Tigerstar tries to use RiverClan, I’ll make sure we’re ready. He’ll regret it.”

Silverstream nodded. “Protect my kits.” She returned to the rest of the StarClan cats.

White fur, brilliant with starlight, dazzled Leopardfur for a moment until she realized that Whitefang was standing before her. Her heart soared as she recognized her mentor’s familiar scent.

“I’m proud of you,” he mewed. His eyes shone, and she purred, not knowing what to say.

He purred back. “It’s not like you to be lost for words.” Leaning forward, he went on. “With this life, I give you patience.”

She purred again as she felt the touch of his muzzle.

What patience had she ever shown? She pictured herself pestering him to teach her battle moves when she was a kit. And then she felt the hurry and rush of Clan life moving around her so fast that the pelts and faces of her Clanmates seemed to blur and become no more than the wind whisking leaves around the clearing while she stood, still and silent, at the center.

When she opened her eyes, Whitefang was gone. A pang of grief pierced her heart. Then she heard a gentle mew. “Leopardfur.” Sunfish’s gaze sparkled in front of her.

Leopardfur wanted to press her muzzle against her friend’s cheek. But she didn’t dare. “Are you happy here?” she asked.

Sunfish blinked at her calmly. “We are all happy here,” she mewed.

Leopardfur felt as though a stone had dropped from her heart. She purred as Sunfish leaned close.

“With this life, I give you friendship.” At the touch of her nose, Leopardfur felt herself skimming the shoreline, her paws hardly touching the earth, then diving through the water, moving with the current like a fish, while above her, sunshine glittered on the surface. She felt happier than she had since she was a kit, and blinked opened her eyes for one last look at her friend.

But Sunfish was gone, and a white-and-ginger she-cat stood in her place. Leopardfur’s nose twitched. Her scent seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember having met this cat.

“I’m Brightsky,” the she-cat mewed.

Leopardfur’s tail quivered with happiness. It was her mother. She blinked at her. “Mudfur missed you so much.” She dropped her gaze, a prick of sadness in her chest. “So did I.”

“I know.” The she-cat’s mew was husky. “I wish I could have raised you. But I’ve loved you even though I couldn't be with you.” She reached toward Leopardfur’s head with her muzzle. “With this, your ninth life, I give you love,” she mewed. “The love a mother gives her kits.”

Leopardfur froze as pain impaled her heart, hardening it until she felt no fear. The strength and ferocity of it took her by surprise. There was no gentleness in it. Was this what a mother’s love was like?

Brightsky drew away and blinked at her “Your Clanmates are your kits now,” she mewed. “Their safety depends on your strength. You must fight for them without fear or pity.”

“I will” Leopardstar met her gaze. “I promise. I will protect them as though they are my own.”

Chapter Text

The stars of Silverpelt blazed from a clear sky, and the full moon rode high. Fireheart crouched at the top of the hollow leading down to Fourtrees. Beneath the four great oaks, the ground was carpeted with fallen leaves, glittering in the first frost of leaf-fall. Black shapes of cats moved to and fro against the pale shimmer.

This time Bluestar had insisted on leading her Clan to the Gathering. Fireheart was glad she’d come. It was nice to step back and not be in charge of every cat for once.

He edged toward her, out of earshot of Cloudpaw and Mousefur, who were beside him. “Bluestar,” he murmured. “What will you — ”

As if she hadn’t heard him, Bluestar signaled with her tail and the ThunderClan cats sprang to their paws and raced down through the bushes into the hollow. Fireheart had no option but to follow. Before they left the camp, Bluestar had made it clear that she was going to warn the other Clans about the dogs, asserting that even cats who followed Tigerstar didn’t deserve to be ripped apart like prey.

Down in the hollow there were fewer cats than Fireheart had expected, and he realized they were all from WindClan and ShadowClan. He spotted Tallstar and Tigerstar seated side by side at the base of the Great Rock. Bluestar walked straight past them, her tail as stiff as if she were advancing on an enemy. She nodded a friendly greeting to Tallstar, but didn’t acknowledge Tigerstar with so much as the flick of a whisker. She leaped up to the Great Rock and sat there, her gray-blue fur glowing in the moonlight and her eyes cold as ice.

Fireheart took a deep breath and tried to calm the fears that welled inside him. ThunderClan knew Tigerstar was a no-good traitor, but WindClan didn’t, and it must hurt to see Tallstar speaking so calmly to the ShadowClan leader.

As he watched, Fireheart saw Tallstar lean over to Tigerstar and meow something; Tigerstar flicked his tail dismissively. Fireheart wondered if he should creep closer to listen to what they were saying, but before he could move he felt a friendly nudge at his shoulder and looked around to see Onewhisker, a warrior of WindClan.

“Hi, there,” Onewhisker meowed. “Do you remember who this is?”

He pushed a young cat forward, a tabby with bright eyes and ears pricked with excitement. “This is Morningflower’s kit,” Onewhisker explained. “He’s my apprentice now — Gorsepaw. Isn’t he big now?”

“Morningflower’s kit, of course! I saw you at the last Gathering.” Fireheart still found it hard to believe that this well-muscled apprentice was the same scrap of fur whom he had carried across the Thunderpath when he and Graystripe brought WindClan home. “Onewhisker, you never mentioned that he was your apprentice.”

Onewhisker shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance.”

“Mother told me about you, Fireheart,” Gorsepaw mewed shyly. “How you carried me, and everything.”

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to carry you now,” Fireheart replied. “If you grow much more, you’ll be able to join LionClan!”

Gorsepaw purred happily. Fireheart was sharply aware of the warm friendship that he felt for these cats, which had survived all the skirmishing and disagreements since that long-ago journey.

“We should be starting the meeting,” Onewhisker went on. “But there’s no sign of RiverClan.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when there was a stir among the bushes at the other side of the clearing. A group of RiverClan cats appeared, padding close together into the open. Stalking proudly at their head was Leopardfur.

“Where’s Crookedstar?” Onewhisker wondered out loud.

“I heard he’s ill,” Fireheart meowed, realizing that he wasn’t surprised to see Leopardfur taking her leader’s place. From what Graystripe had told him by the river half a moon ago, he hadn’t expected the RiverClan leader to be well enough to attend a Gathering.

Leopardfur walked straight toward the base of the Great Rock, where Tallstar and Tigerstar were sitting. She dipped her head courteously and settled down beside them.

Fireheart was too far away to hear what they were saying, and he was distracted a moment later as a familiar gray warrior bounded across the clearing to his side.

“Graystripe!” Fireheart gave a welcoming mew. “I thought you weren’t allowed to come to Gatherings.”

“I wasn’t,” replied Graystripe, touching noses with his friend. “But Stonefur said I should have a chance to prove my loyalty.”

“Stonefur?” Fireheart echoed. He had noticed all of Bluestar’s kits, Stonefur and his sisters, Mosslight and Mistyfoot, among the cats who followed Leopardfur. “What’s it got to do with him?”

“Mosslight’s our new deputy, and Stonefur convinced her to vouch for me,” meowed Graystripe. He frowned. “Oh, of course, you don’t know. Crookedstar died two nights ago. Leopardstar is our leader now.”

Fireheart was silent for a moment, remembering the dignified old cat who had helped ThunderClan during the fire. The news of Crookedstar’s death didn’t surprise him, but it still brought a pang of anxiety. Leopardstar would be a strong leader, good for RiverClan, but she had no love for ThunderClan.

“She’s already started to reorganize the Clan, even though it’s barely a day since she went to the Moonstone to speak with StarClan,” Graystripe went on, pulling a face. “Supervising the apprentice training, ordering more patrols, making new apprentices. And — ” He broke off, his paws working on the ground in front of him.

“Graystripe!” Fireheart was alarmed at his friend’s clear agitation. “What’s the matter?”

Graystripe lifted anguished yellow eyes to gaze at his friend. “There’s something you ought to know, Fireheart.” He took a quick glance around to make sure no RiverClan cats were within earshot. “Ever since the fire, Leopardfur has been planning how to get Sunningrocks back.”

“I. . .I don’t think you should be telling me that,” Fireheart stammered, staring at his friend in dismay. Sunningrocks was a long-disputed territory on the border between ThunderClan and RiverClan. Oakheart and the former ThunderClan deputy, Redtail, had both died in battle over them. For Graystripe to tell Fireheart of his new leader’s intentions was an act of betrayal that went completely against the warrior code.

“I know, Fireheart.” Graystripe couldn’t meet his gaze, and his voice shook with the weight of what he was doing. “I have tried to be a loyal warrior of RiverClan — no cat could have tried harder!” His voice was rising in desperation, but with a huge effort he managed to control himself and go on in a lower voice. “But I can’t sit by and do nothing while Leopardstar plans to attack ThunderClan. If it comes to a battle, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Fireheart moved closer, trying to comfort the gray warrior. He had always known, ever since Graystripe had crossed the river, that sooner or later his friend would have to face the ordeal of fighting against his birth Clan. Now it seemed as if that day had suddenly drawn closer.

“When is this attack going to happen?” he asked.

Graystripe shook his head. “I’ve no idea. Even if Leopardstar has decided, she wouldn’t tell me. I only know about the plan from what the other warriors have said. But I’ll see what I can find out, if you like.”

For a moment Fireheart was excited by the thought of having a spy in the RiverClan camp. Then he realized what a fearful risk Graystripe would be taking. He couldn’t put his friend in that much danger, or add to the pain of his divided loyalties. Unless ThunderClan struck first, without waiting for Leopardstar to attack — which Fireheart didn’t want to do — they would just have to deal with the threat when it arose.

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Fireheart replied. “I’m grateful for the warning, but think what Leopardstar would do to you if she found out. She doesn’t exactly like you as it is. I’ll tell all the hunting patrols to keep checking Sunningrocks for RiverClan scent, and make sure our scent markings are strong there.”

Yowling from the top of the Great Rock interrupted him. He turned to see that the other three leaders had joined Bluestar, who still refused to look at Tigerstar, and were waiting to begin the meeting. When the cats had fallen silent, Tigerstar nodded to Leopardstar, indicating that she should speak first. The golden tabby took a place at the front of the rock and looked down.

“Our former leader, Crookedstar, has gone to join StarClan,” she announced. “He was a noble leader and all his Clan mourns his passing. I am leader of RiverClan now, and Mosslight is my deputy. Last night I traveled to Highstones and received my nine lives from StarClan.”

“Congratulations,” meowed Tigerstar, while Tallstar mewed, “Crookedstar will be missed by all the Clans. But may StarClan grant that RiverClan thrives under your leadership.”

Leopardstar thanked them and looked expectantly at Bluestar, but the ThunderClan leader was gazing down into the hollow. There was an expression of pride on her face, and when Fireheart followed her gaze he saw that she was looking at Mosslight. The obvious admiration for her daughter shocked him, and even more startling was how pleased Mosslight’s face was when she saw her mother’s approval His heart grew cold when he remembered that Tigerstar knew a litter of ThunderClan kits had once been taken in by RiverClan. Fireheart couldn’t help noticing that Tigerstar’s gaze was trained on Bluestar, and the massive tabby had a thoughtful look on his face. What would it take for him to guess who the mother of those kits had been?

After a few heartbeats, Bluestar seemed to collect herself, and she said, “I have every confidence that you will be a strong leader for RiverClan.”

“I have two more piece of Clan news,” Leopardstar meowed, after Bluestar finished speaking. All the cats listened expectantly. “Mistyfoot’s kits have reached their sixth moon and become apprentices. RiverClan welcomes Pikepaw, Primrosepaw, and  Reedpaw.”

“Pikepaw! Primrosepaw! Reedpaw!” the cats in the hollow called. Fireheart cheered as well, but he remembered that there had been four kits in Mistyfoot’s litter. Had one of them died before the beginning of their training?

Now Leopardstar’s voice softened. “One of our queens, Silverstream, is dead.”

Fireheart’s ears pricked. He wondered what Mistyfoot and Graystripe had told their leader about Silverstream’s death, and if he had left any of his own scent on her body. Leopardstar could possibly use that to accuse ThunderClan of killing the queen, to give her Clan an excuse to attack.

But when Leopardstar went on, it was only to say, “She was a brave warrior and the mother of two kits, and a sister and good friend to many.” She paused to cast a sympathetic glance at Mistyfoot and Stonefur. “Her Clan mourns her,” she finished.

Fireheart relaxed, then felt himself tense again as Tigerstar stepped forward. Would the ShadowClan leader announce what he knew about two of Graypool’s kits?

To his relief, Tigerstar made no mention of the secret. Instead he gave news of ShadowClan kits that had been made into apprentices, something he hadn’t mentioned last moon, and the birth of a new litter — details that showed how ShadowClan was beginning to recover its strength, but nothing that suggested hostility to any other Clan.

Hope flared in Fireheart again. Perhaps there really was no need to keep worrying about a threat from Tigerstar. It would be a relief to forget him and concentrate on the lurking threat of the dog pack in the forest. Then Fireheart remembered the ShadowClan leader’s brutal treatment of Graypool, which had led to Silverstream’s death, and all his suspicions returned.

When Tigerstar had finished speaking, Tallstar moved to take his place, but Bluestar stepped in front of the WindClan leader, “I will speak next,” she announced.

She stalked to the front of the rock. “Cats of all Clans,” she began, her voice coldly angry, “I bring news of danger. There is a dog pack living in ThunderClan territory that poses a threat to all the Clans.”

Fireheart’s heart lurched as shocked yowling broke out all over the hollow.

“Are you sure that there are dogs in the forest?” Tornear called.

“I have proof.” Bluestar’s eyes blazed cold fire. “Our patrols found remains of rabbit scattered not far from here and plenty of dog droppings. The time travelers have confirmed it as well.”

“You call that proof?” Tallstar shouldered his way forward to stand nose-to-nose with Bluestar. “Did you see dogs on your territory or mine?”

“I don’t need to see dogs to know what they have done,” Bluestar retorted. “Every cat knows that they don’t follow the same rules we do. They only care about the Twolegs they are with, or themselves if they are not.”

Fireheart’s muscles tensed, and he instinctively unsheathed his claws.

“All this is a pile of mouse dung,” Tallstar insisted. His black-and-white fur was fluffed out, and his lips were drawn back in a snarl. “WindClan have lost prey as well. We have found rabbit remains on our territory too. And there are far fewer rabbits than usual at this season. I accuse you, Bluestar, of letting your warriors hunt on our land and making false announcements to cover up the theft!”

“That seems far more likely,” Tigerstar put in, his amber eyes gleaming. “Every cat knows that prey has been scarce on ThunderClan territory since the fire. Your Clan is hungry, Bluestar, and some of your warriors know WindClan territory very well.”

Fireheart felt the ShadowClan leader’s gaze rest on him, and knew Tigerstar meant him and Graystripe.

Bluestar whipped around to face the ShadowClan leader. “Don’t tell your lies to this Gathering!” she hissed. “Stay away from me and my Clan. This is no business of yours.”

“It is the business of every cat in the forest,” Tigerstar replied calmly. “The Gathering is supposed to be a time of peace. If StarClan are angered, we will all suffer.”

“StarClan!” Bluestar spat back at him. “Since when do you care what they wish? You’ve been lying to every Clan you've been a part of for seasons!”

Her speech was almost drowned by the shocked gasps of the cats listening below. Fireheart couldn’t help glancing up to see if StarClan would show their fury by sending a cloud to cover the moon and end the Gathering, as they had done once before. But the sky remained clear. Did that mean StarClan had accepted Bluestar’s attempts to expose Tigerstar’s treachery?

Graystripe nudged him. “What’s the matter with Bluestar? Does she want to pick a fight with Tigerstar?”

“She just wants to warn every cat about the shared threat,” Fireheart muttered.

“I think she’s right about the dogs, and who cares what a stupid old tradition says about keeping the peace at the Gatherings?” meowed Cloudpaw. “Let’s face it, StarClan was just thought up by some leader to scare the other cats into being obedient.”

Fireheart shot his apprentice a disapproving glance, but there was no time to discuss his attitude toward their warrior ancestors. His heart thudded as if he were about to leap into battle. Tallstar bristled with fury. So far Leopardstar had not joined in the argument, but she wore a strange expression, something between anger and realization.

When the noise in the hollow had died down, Tallstar made himself heard. “Bluestar, I swear by StarClan that no cat from WindClan has seen dogs on our territory.” His tail lashed from side to side. “But if you try to take our prey under this excuse, we will be ready.” He retreated from the edge of the rock and turned his back on Bluestar, a pointed refusal to defend himself any further.

Before Bluestar could retaliate, Leopardstar stepped forward. “The fire was a terrible misfortune,” she meowed. “Every cat in the forest knows that, but yours is not the only Clan to suffer recently. Your forest will grow back as rich in prey as it ever was. But Twolegs have invaded our territory and they show no signs of leaving. Last leaf-bare the river was poisoned and cats who ate the fish fell ill. Who can guarantee it won’t happen again? I cannot speak for WindClan’s needs, but RiverClan needs better hunting ground even more than ThunderClan.”

A few RiverClan cats yowled their agreement, and Fireheart’s fur bristled with apprehension. He shot a glance at Graystripe, remembering his friend’s warning about Sunningrocks. The new RiverClan leader meant to expand her territory, and the logical direction was across the river into ThunderClan land. The gorge cut her off from WindClan territory, and all her other borders were bounded by Twoleg farms.

But Bluestar didn’t care about the veiled threat. When the RiverClan leader fell silent she dipped her head graciously. “You’re right, Leopardstar,” she meowed. “RiverClan has endured hard times. Yet your cats are so strong and noble that I know you will survive.”

Leopardstar looked taken aback — as well she might, Fireheart thought. The old Bluestar would never have missed the ominous promise in Leopardstar’s words. Then her eyes gleamed, and Fireheart realized she hadn’t missed it–she had chosen to ignore it.

Tigerstar took a step toward the ThunderClan leader. “Think carefully before you steal from WindClan, Bluestar,” he warned. “There will never be peace in the forest if —”

Bluestar bared her teeth and snarled at him, her fur bristling with fury. “Don’t talk to me about peace!” she hissed. “I told you to keep out of this. Unless you aren’t worried about the dogs being here.”

“You tell that mangy piece of crowfood!” Robinpaw called out. It was her second Gathering in a row taunting Tigerstar, and unlike the last time, Brindleface chose not to silence her. Fireheart wasn’t all that bothered by it either, especially when he saw Tigerstar’s completely confused expression.

Fireheart watched Tallstar stalk over to Bluestar, and he guessed that the WindClan leader was barely managing not to spring at her throat. “Don’t try to take our prey, Bluestar,” he growled.

“I would never dream of such a thing,” Bluestar meowed. “But the dogs are a threat, and it’s up to you to decide what WindClan does about it.”

Tallstar’s fur stopped bristling, and he nodded once. Then he jumped down from the Great Rock.

Tigerstar exchanged a glance with Leopardstar and both leaders followed, leaving Bluestar alone. Fireheart glanced at the sky again, hardly able to believe there was no sign from StarClan to show that they had seen the Gathering descend into hostility. Did that mean StarClan wanted a war between the Clans?

As Bluestar scrambled down from the rock, Fireheart looked around for the other ThunderClan warriors. “Cloudpaw,” he instructed urgently, “round up as many of our warriors as you can find and send them to the base of the Great Rock. Bluestar will need an escort.”

His apprentice nodded and slipped away into the crowd. Fireheart saw Stonefur and Mosslight thrusting their way through the crowd toward Graystripe.

“Are you ready?” the RiverClan deputy meowed. “Leopardstar wants to leave quickly.”

“On my way,” Graystripe mewed, springing to his paws. His voice shook as he added, “Good-bye, Fireheart.”

“Good-bye,” Fireheart replied. There was so much more he wanted to say, but once again he had to face the fact that his best friend belonged to another Clan, and the next time they met could be in battle.

Before the three RiverClan cats turned away, he sought desperately for the right words to speak to Mosslight. “Congratulations,” he stammered at last. “I was glad to hear Leopardstar chose you as deputy. ThunderClan don’t want trouble, you know.”

Stonefur met his eyes. “Nor do I,” she meowed. “But sometimes trouble comes anyway.”

Fireheart watched them as they headed for the edge of the clearing, and noticed with a jolt that another cat had his gaze fixed on the RiverClan cats. It was Tigerstar!

Fireheart wondered what his thoughtful look meant. Was the ShadowClan leader sizing up a future ally? Or could he possibly suspect that the tom was one of the kits Graypool had told him of, the kits that came from ThunderClan? After all, it was common knowledge that Mosslight, Stonefur, and Mistyfoot had been raised by Graypool. If so, it wouldn’t be long before Tigerstar realized who their real mother was. Both Stonefur and Mistyfoot looked very much like Bluestar.

Fireheart was so preoccupied that it was a few moments before he realized that the cat sitting in the shadows beside Tigerstar was Darkstripe. He told himself that it was only natural for Tigerstar’s oldest friend to seek him out at a Gathering, but Fireheart didn’t like it. He still wasn’t sure of Darkstripe ’s loyalty.

Springing to his paws, he pushed through the cats toward them. As he approached, he heard Tigerstar meow to his companion, “Are my kits well?”

“Very well,” the ThunderClan warrior replied warmly. “Growing big and strong — especially young Bramblekit.”

“Darkstripe!” Fireheart interrupted him. “The Gathering’s over, or hadn’t you noticed? Bluestar will want to leave shortly.”

 “Keep your fur on, Fireheart.” Darkstripe’s voice was an insolent drawl. “I’m coming.”

“Go on, Darkstripe; you mustn’t keep your deputy waiting,” meowed Tigerstar. He nodded to Fireheart; his amber gaze was carefully neutral.

Fireheart padded across the clearing to join Bluestar with Darkstripe just behind him. The rest of her warriors were clustered around her.

*  *  *  *  *

A couple days later, Fireheart decided to investigate the dog scents by Fourtrees and make sure there weren’t any fresh ones.

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?”

Four 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 before 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.

“Besides, you remember what Honeykit and Hollykit told us,” Bramblekit hissed.

“What exactly did Honeykit and Hollykit tell you?” Tigerstar asked gently.

I’d like to know that myself, Fireheart thought. It had been a while since either of them had mentioned something they’d been told by their parents.

Bramblekit winced. “Nothing specific. Just that we can’t trust you since you’re the leader of another Clan.”

He’s lying. There was something else the kits had told him, something he didn’t want Tigerstar to hear.

Tigerstar smiled faintly. “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.

But before he could, another cat did it for him. Robinpaw burst out of the nearby bushes and tackled Tigerstar. “Intruder!” she yowled, batting at Tigerstar’s ears. “Dirtstripe, what are you doing? Help me send this ShadowClan cat back to his own territory.”

Darkstripe groaned. Stepping forward, he sank his claws into Robinpaw’s tail and dragged her, wriggling and spitting in fury, off of Tigerstar’s back.

“Hey!” she spat. “I was fighting an intruder!”

“Tigerstar is not an intruder,” Darkstripe growled. “If anyone is the intruder here, it’s you. You don’t belong in ThunderClan: not you, not your brother, and certainly not you mother.”

She glared at him. “I belong in ThunderClan more than you do, Dirtstripe! My family and I were raised and trained by Healer and Cavern.”

An amused rumble came from Tigerstar. “So you are Healer’s kin,” he meowed thoughtfully. “The kittypet mentioned something about that at your first Gathering. I’ve met her, you know. Did she ever tell you about it?”

“Which time?” Robinpaw asked snidely.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Tigerstar said in a falsely apologetic tone.

Robinpaw rolled her eyes. “There were two times you met her. The first time was when she was fighting your psychotic mentor Thistleclaw during a border fight near Twolegplace, and the second time was when she stopped you from shredding an innocent kit.”

Bramblekit gasped in horror. “You did that?”

“Of course not,” Tigerstar assured him hastily. “I would never attack a young cat who couldn’t defend himself.”

“Hmmm,” Robinpaw mewed thoughtfully. “Let me see if I can help your memory. Bramblekit, would you like to play the part of the kit?”

“He is a kit!” Tawnykit squealed.

Robinpaw flicked her muzzle with her tail. “I’m aware. That’s why I’m asking him to do this.” Bramblekit nodded eagerly. “Now let me see…I believe the first part goes something like this:”

She dropped to a crouch. “I think the kittypet should be taught a lesson–one it’ll remember.” Her voice was a low growl, and Fireheart shuddered. She sounded nothing like the enthusiastic apprentice who cheerfully woke up early for dawn patrols. Springing forward, she leaped for Bramblekit.

“No!” Tigerstar shouted, hurtling into Robinpaw and knocking her away from his son.

“Relax, Tigerdung,” Robinpaw purred. “I wasn’t going to hurt him. But you clearly recognized what I was doing. It’s exactly what you tried to do to my uncle.”

Tigerstar’s fur was bristling now, and Robinpaw’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

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 besides Hollykit and Honeykit 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.”

“That’s for sure!” Robinpaw agreed. Turning to Tigerstar, she added, “I honestly don’t know why you trust a mouse-brain like him. He’s pathetic!”

“Fireheart.” Ignoring Robinpaw,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 pack loose in the forest, he added to himself.

“They’re not wandering — they’re with me,” Darkstripe pointed out.

“And me!” Robinpaw peeped, though Fireheart didn’t consider her responsible company either.

“What if a hawk attacked? There’s still little cover in some parts of the forest. Have you forgotten what almost happened 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. Bramblekit smiled at Fireheart before he joined his sister 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 and Robinpaw 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 three 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. It was time for him to finish his expedition to Fourtrees.

Chapter Text

My favorite suggestions for Tulippaw's warrior name are:

Tuliptail

Tulipleaf

Tulipspring

Tulipspark

Now it's your turn to vote. And since I completely forgot where I was in the story, I will be using Tulipstomp as a placeholder.

There seems to be a decision made, and just in time.

Chapter Text

In the days that followed, Fireheart did his best to set up a system of patrols that would give the Clan ample warning if ShadowClan or RiverClan decided to attack. There were barely enough warriors for the regular patrols and sentry duties, and Fireheart felt his fur grow thin with worry as the season moved on. The rain gave way to crisp, dry weather, but there was a thin rime of frost on the ground each morning and the remaining leaves dropped steadily from the trees. The brief recovery of the forest was over, and prey became scarce again.

One morning, about half a moon after the confrontation with WindClan, Fireheart was about to lead out the dawn patrol with Brackenfur, Swiftblade, and Cloudpaw when Bluestar came padding from her den. “I’ll lead the patrol this morning,” she meowed, and went to wait by the entrance to the camp.

“Bluestar leading a patrol?” muttered Cloudpaw. “That’s so cool!”

Fireheart aimed a cuff at the side of his head, but he couldn’t help feeling pleased at the excitement of his apprentice that Bluestar should start leading patrols again.

Cloudpaw grunted. Fireheart was about to join his leader when an idea struck him. “Listen, Cloudpaw, you want to be a warrior, don’t you?” The white cat nodded eagerly. “Well, then, this is your chance to impress Bluestar. We’ll take another apprentice as well. Go and find Tulippaw.” Sandstorm’s kits were due any day now, and Fireheart knew she was hoping to see her apprentice made a warrior first.

Cloudpaw’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he dashed off toward the apprentices’ den.

Fireheart watched him go, then turned to Brackenfur. “Can you get Longtail?” He knew the pale tabby warrior would be pleased to have a chance to show off his former apprentice’s skills. “He’s due to go out on hunting patrol — you don’t mind swapping duties with him, do you?”

“No, that’s fine, Fireheart.”

Brackenfur disappeared into the warriors’ den, and a moment later Longtail appeared. The two apprentices joined the warriors, and all four cats padded over to where Bluestar and Swiftblade were waiting.

Her tail twitched. “Sure you’ve got the right cats, Fireheart?” she joked. Without waiting for a reply she led the way out of the camp and up the ravine.

As he followed the blue-gray she-cat toward the RiverClan border, Fireheart could almost imagine that the last few seasons had never happened, and he was still a young warrior going out on patrol without any of the responsibilities that troubled him now. But the fire-scarred forest reminded him that there was no going back.

The frost was beginning to melt as the sun rose over the river, though the leaves still crackled beneath the cats’ paws as they padded through the shadows. As they went, Fireheart tested the two apprentices on what they could see and scent, hoping to demonstrate their hunting abilities to their leader. They answered confidently, and Bluestar nodded approvingly at their success.

The ThunderClan leader paused when they came within sight of the river and stood gazing at the opposite bank. “I wonder where they are,” she murmured, almost too quietly for Fireheart to hear. “What are they doing now?”

Fireheart did not need to see the sadness in her eyes to know that she was thinking of Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur. He glanced uneasily at the other cats to see if they had noticed, but Swiftblade and Cloudpaw were sniffing at an old water-vole hole, while Longtail was watching the movements of a squirrel high in the branches of a tree. Tulippaw was creeping after a mouse.

After a few moments Bluestar turned and followed the border upstream toward Sunningrocks. Fireheart noticed that she kept casting glances into RiverClan territory. But everything was quiet. They saw no RiverClan cats at all.

Eventually Sunningrocks came within sight. The smoothly sloping boulders seemed deserted. Then, as Fireheart watched, a cat climbed up from the opposite side and stood silhouetted against the sky.

Fireheart stopped dead, his fur prickling with the sense of danger. Though he could not make out the color of her fur, there was no mistaking that aggressive stance, the arrogant tilt of her head, and her long, winding tail. It was Leopardstar.

A couple of other cats had joined Leopardstar, and as the ThunderClan patrol drew closer, Fireheart recognized Mosslight, the RiverClan deputy, and the warriors Stonefur and Blackclaw. “Bluestar!” he hissed. “What are RiverClan doing on Sunningrocks?” But Fireheart felt his heart sink with dread when he saw the way that Bluestar was looking at the RiverClan deputy — warring between the challenging glare of a leader faced with enemy cats on her territory, and the admiring gaze of a queen who has seen her beloved kit become a noble warrior.

Bluestar padded forward until she reached the base of the rock where Leopardstar waited. Fireheart followed.

“What do they think they’re doing?” Cloudpaw muttered indignantly behind him. “Sunningrocks is ours!”

Fireheart shot him a warning glance to keep silent, and the apprentice dropped back beside Swiftblade, Tulippaw, and Longtail, while Fireheart went to stand at Bluestar’s shoulder.

“Good day, Bluestar,” Leopardstar meowed, her voice confident. “I’ve been waiting since moonset to see ThunderClan cats, but I never hoped that one of them would be you.”

There was an edge of mockery in her tone, and Fireheart winced that the head of his Clan would be scorned so openly by other leaders.

“What are you doing here?” Bluestar asked. “Sunningrocks belongs to ThunderClan.” But her voice was firm and challenging, and she glared at the intruders.

“Sunningrocks has always belonged to RiverClan,” Leopardstar retorted, “even though we allowed ThunderClan to hunt here for a while. But ThunderClan stands in our debt after the help we gave you at the time of the fire. Today we claim that debt, Bluestar. We are taking Sunningrocks back.”

Fireheart’s fur bristled with fury. If Leopardstar thought she could stroll onto Sunningrocks without a fight, she was mistaken! Whipping around, he hissed, “Swiftblade, you’re fastest. Run back to camp and fetch reinforcements.”

“But I want to fight!” Swiftblade protested.

“Then get back here fast!”

The apprentice dashed off into the trees. Leopardstar tracked him with narrowed eyes, and Fireheart knew she must realize why he had gone. It was essential to hold off the battle for as long as possible. “Keep her talking,” he murmured to Bluestar. “Swiftblade’s gone for help.”

He knew Bluestar had heard him when she nodded. She was staring at Stonefur and Mosslight again. Mosslight seemed to notice, and her eyes softened the smallest bit.

“Well, Bluestar?” Leopardstar challenged. “Do you agree? Do you allow RiverClan the right to Sunningrocks?”

For a few heartbeats Bluestar did not reply. As the silence stretched out, more RiverClan cats crept up to the top of the rock and emerged to stand beside their leader. Fireheart’s heart lurched when he saw that one of them was Graystripe. His gaze locked with his friend’s, and he saw in Graystripe’s appalled face a message as clear as if the gray warrior had yowled it to the skies. I don’t want to fight you!

“No.” Bluestar spoke at last, her voice firm. “We do not pay our debts by surrendering valuable territory. Sunningrocks belongs to ThunderClan.”

“Then you’ll have to fight us for it,” growled Leopardstar.

Fireheart heard Longtail whisper at his shoulder, “They’ll make crowfood of us!”

At the same moment, Leopardstar uttered a bloodcurdling yowl and launched herself down the face of the rock at Bluestar. The two cats crashed to the ground, spitting and clawing. Fireheart sprang forward to help his leader, but before he reached her a warrior crashed into his side, bowling him over and sinking his teeth into Fireheart’s shoulder. Fireheart scrabbled against the RiverClan cat’s belly with his hind paws, desperate to break his grip, and slashed his claws at his enemy’s throat. The tabby warrior let go and backed off, yowling.

Fireheart spun around, looking for Bluestar, but she was nowhere to be seen. He spotted Longtail in the midst of a heaving mass of cats, but before he could do anything to help he caught a glimpse of Blackclaw springing toward him. He managed to avoid the warrior’s outstretched claws, and as the RiverClan cat fell awkwardly Fireheart sprang on him and bit hard into his ear.

Blackclaw scrabbled on the ground, trying to escape Fireheart’s grip. Fireheart raked his claws across his back, only to lose his hold as another cat barreled into him from the side. He went down and felt teeth meet in his tail.

Longtail was right, he thought despairingly. They’ll tear us into strips!

The ThunderClan cats were hopelessly outnumbered, and there had been no time for Swiftblade to reach the camp and return with help. Long before reinforcements could arrive, the patrol would have been driven off or killed, and Sunningrocks would belong to RiverClan again.

Fireheart writhed helplessly, struggling for enough space to use teeth and claws. Suddenly the weight lifted as the cat lying across his legs was yanked away. He sprang to his paws to see Cloudpaw perched on Blackclaw’s back, his claws fastened deep in the warrior’s black fur and the wild light of battle in his eyes. Blackclaw reared up on his hind legs, but he couldn’t shake the apprentice off.

“See, Fireheart!” Cloudpaw yelled. “Do it this way — it’s easy!”

There was no time for Fireheart to answer. He spat an insult after the other warrior, who vanished wailing among the rocks, and threw himself into the whirling mass of cats around Longtail. Fireheart dragged one warrior off him, and suddenly came face-to-face with Brackenfur as the younger warrior burst out of the trees.

He gasped with surprise and gave fervent thanks to StarClan. Swiftblade must have met the hunting patrol scouting near Sunningrocks, as Fireheart had ordered after Graystripe’s warning — and sent them along, bringing help long before Fireheart had dared to hope for it.

“Where’s Bluestar?” Brackenfur called.

“Don’t know.”

In the moment’s respite, Fireheart looked around for his leader. There was still no sign of her, though he caught sight of Leopardstar facing up to Whitestorm on top of a rock a few fox-lengths away. Tulippaw was wrestling with Icepaw at the base of one of the smaller rocks, the two cats evenly matched.

Longtail staggered to his paws, panting for breath as he leaned against the rock face. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead and he had lost a strip of fur along his flank, but his lips were still drawn back in a snarl, and he followed Brackenfur willingly as the ginger warrior leaped into the battle.

Mosslight charged at Fireheart, slashing at his nose. He dodged backwards, then leaped at her, carrying them both to the ground. He pinned her down, aiming a blow at her ear.

Fireheart was about to strike when he heard a voice calling out urgently above the noise of the fighting: “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

He spun around to see Graystripe crouched on top of the nearest rock, a look of anguish on his broad face. “Fireheart, come here!” he yowled.

For a heartbeat Fireheart wondered if this was a trap, and then felt ashamed of himself. His friend had avoided fighting him face-to-face; he would never snare him with a trick.

Fireheart bounded up the smooth slope of the rock to Graystripe’s side. “What is it?”

Graystripe pointed with his muzzle toward the other side of the rock. “Look.”

Fireheart peered over the edge. The rock sloped down more steeply there into a narrow gully. Bluestar was crouching almost directly below him. Her fur was ruffled, and she was bleeding from one shoulder. Coming along the gully on either side, cutting off any possible escape, were Mistyfoot and Stonefur.

The RiverClan deputy slashed his claws at Bluestar without touching her. “Defend yourself!” snarled the gray tom. “Or I swear by StarClan I’ll kill you.”

On Bluestar’s other side, Mistyfoot crept closer, her belly flat to the ground. “Are you scared to fight us?” she hissed.

Bluestar did not move, except to turn her head from one to the other. Fireheart could not see her expression from his vantage point, but he knew she would never be able to attack her own kits.

“I had to tell you,” Graystripe whispered beside Fireheart. “They’ll call me a traitor — but I couldn’t let them kill Bluestar.”

Fireheart shot his friend a look of gratitude. Graystripe had no idea of the real relationship between Bluestar and these two RiverClan cats. His only motive was loyalty to his former leader.

But Fireheart had no time to think for long about Graystripe’s tangled loyalties. He had to save Bluestar. The RiverClan cats had advanced until they were almost touching her, their fur bristling and their teeth bared in a snarl.

“Call yourself a leader?” Stonefur sneered. “Why won’t you fight?”

He drew back a paw to bring it raking down over Bluestar’s shoulder. At the same instant, Fireheart launched himself down the rock face. He landed hard in the gully, practically on top of Stonefur, forcing him away from Bluestar. On the Clan leader’s other side, Mistyfoot let out a screech of defiance and unsheathed her claws.

“Stop!” Fireheart yowled. “You can’t harm Bluestar — she’s your mother!”

The RiverClan warriors froze, their blue eyes wide with shock.

“What do you mean?” Stonefur rasped. “Graypool was our mother.”

“No, listen. . .” Fireheart bundled Bluestar against the rock face and stood in front of her. He could still hear the yowls and spitting of the battle on the other side of the rock, but suddenly it seemed to have nothing to do with the confrontation in this gully.

“Bluestar gave birth to you in ThunderClan,” he meowed desperately. “But she couldn’t keep you. Your father, Oakheart, brought you to RiverClan.”

“I don’t believe you!” Stonefur drew his lips back in a vicious snarl. “It’s a trick.”

“No, wait,” mewed Mistyfoot. “Fireheart doesn’t lie.”

“How would you know?” her brother demanded. “He’s a ThunderClan cat. Why should we trust him?”

He advanced on Fireheart, claws out, and the ThunderClan warrior braced himself for the attack, but before Stonefur could spring, Mosslight dropped down beside Fireheart as well.

“He’s telling the truth,” she meowed softly. Her littermates stared at her in shock. “I know you don’t remember any of it, but I do. I remember ThunderClan, I remember an apprentice Redtail teaching us the hunter’s crouch, I remember Thistleclaw and how dangerous it would have been for him to become leader, I remember Bluestar taking us to Sunningrocks on a freezing leaf-bare night and being helped by Healer. I remember all of it.”

 Bluestar slipped out from behind them and faced the two bristling RiverClan cats.

“My kits, oh, my kits. . .” Bluestar’ s voice was warm, and when she turned her head Fireheart saw that her eyes were blazing with admiration. “You’re such fine warriors now. I’m so proud of you.”

Stonefur glanced at Mistyfoot, uncertainty showing in his twitching ears.

“Leave Bluestar alone,” Fireheart urged quietly. Mosslight rested her tail on her mother’s back.

A sudden yowling interrupted him. “Fireheart! Watch out!” The voice was Graystripe’s.

Fireheart looked up in time to see Leopardstar plunging down the rock toward him. Graystripe’s warning gave him just enough time to scramble backward, so that her outstretched claws only raked his shoulder. Spitting, she flung herself at him, driving the breath out of his body as she hurled him to the ground.

Fireheart gripped the RiverClan leader’s neck with his front paws and felt her powerful hind paws raking at his belly. Pain stabbed through him, and he slashed out blindly, feeling his claws score through fur. For a few heartbeats all he could see was Leopardstar’s spotted pelt; his face was pressed into it, half smothering him, and he struggled to breathe.

Suddenly Leopardstar jerked her head back, and Fireheart lost his hold on her neck. Her stifling weight was lifted off him. Scrambling to his paws, he backed against the rock, ready for her to spring at him again. His head whirled with exhaustion, and he could feel blood pulsing out of a wound on his leg. Suddenly he wasn’t sure that this was a battle he could win.

He looked around for Bluestar, but she had disappeared, and so had Mistyfoot and Stonefur. The RiverClan leader crouched on the ground in front of him, breathing hard, bleeding from her neck and side. To Fireheart’s astonishment, Graystripe stood over her, pinning her down with his front paws.

Mosslight, with an apologetic look at Fireheart, leaped at Graystripe, striking his shoulders with powerful blows in an attempt to force him to release her leader.

“I had him,” Leopardstar panted, almost incoherent with fury. “I heard you just now. You warned him.”

Graystripe dodged another attack from Mosslight and released his leader so she could stagger to her paws again. “I’m sorry, Leopardstar, but Fireheart’s my friend.”

Leopardstar shook drops of blood from her golden tabby fur and glared at the gray warrior. “I was right about you all along,” she hissed. “You were never loyal to RiverClan. All right, you’ve got a choice. Attack your friend for me now, or leave my Clan for good.”

Graystripe stared at her in dismay. Fireheart’s breath caught in his chest. Was Leopardstar going to force him to fight his former Clanmate? He knew that he didn’t have the strength to beat a cat who was still relatively fresh — and much more than that, how could he lift a claw against his best friend?

“Well?” snarled Leopardstar. “What are you waiting for?” Mosslight stared at him, sympathy in her gaze. She clearly knew what his choice would be.

Graystripe glanced at Fireheart, his amber eyes filled with anguish. Then he bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Leopardstar. I can’t do it. Punish me if you want.”

“Punish you?” Leopardstar’s face was contorted in fury. “I ’ll claw your eyes out; I’ll set you loose in the forest for the foxes to track down. Traitor! I’ll — ”

A chorus of yowling drowned her threats. Fireheart looked up, almost despairing at the thought of more enemies to fight. He could hardly believe what he saw. A wave of ThunderClan cats was streaming over the rock and down into the gully. He spotted Mousefur, Darkstripe, Sweetmint, Nighthunter, and Dustpelt, Owltuft, Nutfur, and Lightfrost and Swiftblade leading the apprentices. His message had gotten through, and help had come at last!

Leopardstar took one look and fled. The ThunderClan warriors gave chase at once with furious yowls. Fireheart and Graystripe were left looking at each other, and Mosslight vanished, likely to find her littermates.

“Thank you,” Fireheart mewed after a few moments.

Graystripe shrugged and padded over to him. He was limping slightly, and his fur was torn and thick with dust. “There was no choice,” he whispered. “I couldn’t hurt you, could I?”

Fireheart drew himself up. As his head cleared, he realized that the sounds of battle were fading and a heavy silence was gathering over Sunningrocks, filled with the reek of blood. “Come on. I’ve got to see what’s happening.”

He turned and padded along the gully, aware that Graystripe was following close behind. Coming to the open ground beyond the rocks, he saw the RiverClan warriors retreating down the slope that led to the river. At the head of the patrol, Blackclaw launched himself into the river and began swimming toward the opposite bank.

Brackenfur and Nighthunter stood nearby, and more ThunderClan cats crouched on top of Sunningrocks, watching their enemies depart. Cloudpaw raised his head and let out a yowl of pure triumph.

Bluestar padded after the retreating cats as far as the RiverClan border, her ears pricked with determination. Fireheart saw with a twinge of distress that she was following Mistyfoot and Stonefur. Mosslight held back, waiting to see what she would say. “Now that you know the truth, we must talk,” the ThunderClan leader called after them. “You will be welcome in the ThunderClan camp. I will tell my warriors to bring you to my den whenever you want to see me.”

But both warriors turned away from her and stalked down to the edge of the water. Stonefur glanced back before he waded out into the river. “Leave us alone,” he growled. “You’re no mother of ours, whatever you say.”

Mosslight touched her muzzle to Bluestar’s, and Fireheart could see the regret in her eyes. “They’ll forgive soon, I’m sure,” she meowed quietly. “I forgave you a long time ago. I understand why you had to give us up, and I’ll make sure no leader or deputy ever has to choose between their Clan and their kits again.” With a final sad nod, she followed her Clanmates back to their territory.

Leopardstar was the last cat to retreat across the border. “Look there!” she snapped at her warriors, flicking her tail toward Graystripe, who was standing beside Fireheart. “If it weren’t for that traitor, Sunningrocks would be ours again. He’s no longer a member of RiverClan. If you catch him on our territory, kill him.”

Without waiting for any response, she spun around and limped rapidly toward the river.

“But my kits!” Graystripe exclaimed. “I can’t just leave them!”

Mosslight was still close enough to hear, and she sighed. “I will watch over your kits,” she promised. “As will their kin. Don’t be afraid.”

Graystripe said nothing. He nodded once in resignation, then stood as motionless as the rocks behind him, with his head hanging.

Lightfrost padded across to Fireheart. “What happened?” she asked. He was bleeding from a scratch on her shoulder, but his eyes were clear and questioning.

Fireheart longed to go back to camp and curl up in the warriors’ den to share tongues with his denmates, and he deeply wanted to speak with Sandstorm, but he knew he had too much to do. “Graystripe saved my life,” he explained. “He pulled Leopardstar off me.”

“So that’s why he can’t go back.” The gray-and-white tom turned his head to watch the last of the RiverClan cats plunging into the river. Then he looked back at Graystripe, his eyes huge with concern. “What is he going to do, then?” he murmured.

Sudden joy stabbed through Fireheart. Whatever Graystripe felt for his kits, if he could not go back to RiverClan, he could come home. Then the joy faded and anxiety twisted Fireheart’s belly. That decision wasn’t his to make. Would Bluestar now allow the gray warrior to come back to the Clan he had left? And how would the other warriors react?

Looking around for his leader, Fireheart saw her padding wearily up the slope, and went to meet her. “Bluestar...”

She raised her head, and he saw that her eyes were devastated. “They hate me, Fireheart.”

Sorrow flooded over Fireheart. With his own worries about Graystripe, he had almost forgotten what his leader must be suffering. “I’m sorry, Bluestar,” he murmured. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told them. But I couldn’t think of what else to do.”

“That’s all right, Fireheart.” To his amazement Bluestar reached out and gave his shoulder a swift lick.

“I always wanted them to know. But I didn’t think they would hate me for what I did.” She let out a long sigh.

Thinking quickly, he reminded her, “Mosslight doesn’t hate you. She remembers you and knows why you did what you did. I’m sure she’ll talk to Stonefur and Mistyfoot.”

“Let’s go back to camp.”

She showed no sense of triumph that ThunderClan had succeeded in defending their claim to Sunningrocks. When she reached the place where her warriors were gathered, she spoke only briefly about the victory, congratulating them for fighting so well. But her mind still seemed fixed on her kits.

Fireheart fell in beside his leader as she padded up the slope. “Well done,” he meowed to Cloudpaw as his apprentice leaped off the rock and landed neatly at his side. “You fought like a warrior. So did all of you,” he added, raising his voice as he glanced around, hoping to make up for their leader’s sadness. “Bluestar and I are both proud of you.”

“Thank StarClan we managed to beat RiverClan off,” mewed Brackenfur.

“No, thank us, ” Cloudpaw put in. “ We did all the fighting. I didn’t notice any StarClan warriors on our side.”

Bluestar turned her head at that and fixed an intent gaze on the white apprentice, her eyes narrowed. Fireheart expected her to rebuke him, but her expression showed concern rather than anger.

As the warriors began to move off toward their camp, Fireheart went to stand beside Graystripe. “Bluestar,” he mewed nervously, “Graystripe’s here.”

Bluestar’s gaze flickered sadly over the gray warrior. She nodded in understanding.

Then Darkstripe shouldered his way forward. “Get off our territory!” he spat at Graystripe, adding to Bluestar, “I’ll drive him off, if you want.”

“Wait,” Bluestar ordered with authority. “Fireheart, explain what’s going on.”

He told her how Graystripe had warned him about Leopardstar’s attack and pulled her away when Fireheart was losing their fight. “He brought me to help you when Mistyfoot and Stonefur were attacking you,” he explained. “And I owe him my life. Bluestar, please let him come back into ThunderClan.”

Graystripe looked at his former leader with a glimmer of hope in his amber eyes. But before Bluestar could reply, Darkstripe broke in roughly. “He left ThunderClan of his own free will. Why should we let him come crawling back now?”

“I’m not crawling to you or any cat,” Graystripe retorted. He turned to face the gray she-cat again. “But I’d like to come back, if you’ll have me, Bluestar.”

“You can’t take back a traitor!” Darkstripe spat. “He just betrayed his leader — how do you know he won’t betray you the first chance he gets?”

“He did it for Fireheart!” Lightfrost protested.

Darkstripe snorted contemptuously.

Bluestar fixed a cold look on him. “If Graystripe is a traitor,” she meowed, with all the ice of leaf-bare in her voice, “then he was just trying to protect his friend. It was always clear he didn’t belong in RiverClan, and we should not hold his choices against him now. Our Clan will always appreciate having new warriors.”

There were gasps from the other cats as she spoke, and Fireheart realized that few of the Clan had any idea how much Graystripe had hated leaving ThunderClan. Then again, they had never cared enough to ask. All they had seen was a traitor. “Does that mean Graystripe can stay?” he asked.

“Yes, he may stay,” Bluestar responded firmly. She was looking incredibly exhausted. Slowly, meeting the troubled gazes of any of her warriors, she padded away in the direction of the camp.

*  *  *  *  *

As Fireheart wearily pushed his way through the entrance to the camp he spotted Bramblekit dashing toward him, almost falling over his paws in his eagerness to greet the returning warriors. “Did we win?” he asked. He stopped and stared round-eyed at Graystripe. “Who’s this? Is he a prisoner?”

“No, he’s a ThunderClan cat,” Fireheart replied. “It’s a long story, Bramblekit, and I’m too tired to explain now. I promise I’ll explain later.”

Bramblekit took a step back, looking slightly crestfallen. Though he wouldn’t remember it, Fireheart reflected, he had suckled side by side with Graystripe’s two kits. Goldenflower had cared for them in the few days they had spent in ThunderClan after Silverstream’s death.

The dark tabby kit eyed Graystripe suspiciously as the two warriors padded past him, and then turned to Tawnykit as she came bounding up with Honeykit and Hollykit. “Look!” he mewed. “There’s a new cat in the Clan.”

“Who is he?” Tawnykit wondered.

“A traitor,” Darkstripe spat as he stalked past on his way to the warriors’ den.

Goldenflower’s two kits stared at him with total bewilderment in their faces.

“Do you really want to talk about traitors, Dirtstripe?” Hollykit growled. “I think you should go eat a deathberry.”

Fireheart fought down his amusement; there was no time to start an argument with Darkstripe, but the warrior had no business letting his anger spill over onto the kits. Feeling an pang of sympathy for Bramblekit, he turned back and meowed, “Yes, we did win. We keep Sunningrocks.”

Bramblekit gave a little joyous bounce. “Great! I’m going to tell the elders.” He scurried off with Tawnykit hard on his paws.

“Those are Tigerstar’s kits, aren’t they?” asked Graystripe curiously, watching them go.

“Yes.”

“They’re Goldenflower’s kits too!” Honeykit defended them. “And Lionblaze and CInderheart said they’ll be heroes someday.”

Fireheart frowned at him. “You’re not supposed to talk about the future,” he meowed sternly.

“Sorry, Fireheart!” both kits meowed.

Fireheart gave them a friendly smile. “You don’t have to share the stories about other cats. You have your own stories to live.”

“Do we?” Hollykit mewed. “Because we’re the kits of time traveling heroes from the future. They’re pretty hard to live up to.”

“You’ll find a way,” Fireheart promised. “I believe in both of you.”

Graystripe cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you both again.”

Fireheart nodded. “Let’s go see Cinderpelt and get patched up.”

Graystripe looked around as the two warriors crossed the burned-out clearing. “It’s never going to be the same,” he muttered despondently.

“Next newleaf, you’ll see,” Fireheart replied, trying to cheer him up. He hoped Graystripe was only referring to the damage caused by the fire, and not a sense that he could never recover his old place within the Clan. “Everything will grow back stronger than before.”

Graystripe didn’t reply. He didn’t look as happy as Fireheart had expected him to be, as if he were beginning to doubt that the rest of his birth Clan would accept him. And Fireheart could see pain in his eyes that suggested he was already beginning to miss the kits he had given up. After all, he hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.

The returning warriors were gathering in the medicine cats’ clearing. As Fireheart and Graystripe approached, Cinderpelt looked up from pressing cobwebs against a wound in Cloudpaw’s side. “Here’s Fireheart now,” she mewed, and added, “Great StarClan, you look as if you’ve been fighting monsters on the Thunderpath.”

“It feels like it.” Fireheart grunted. Settling down to wait for Cinderpelt to check him over, he realized how much his wounds hurt. The one in the leg that Leopardstar had given him was still bleeding, and he bent his head to lick it.

“What are you thinking, bringing him back again?” Fireheart looked up to see Dustpelt glaring at Graystripe. “We don’t want him here.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Fireheart asked, gritting his teeth, “I think he belongs here — and so does Lightfrost, and, I’m fairly sure, Sandstorm does, and — ” He broke off as Dustpelt pointedly turned his back.

“Calm down, mouse-brain,” Jayfeather muttered. “Graystripe can’t stay away for long. He always finds his way back to ThunderClan.”

Graystripe shot an apologetic look at Fireheart. “They won’t accept me,” he mewed. “It’s true; I left the Clan, and now...”

“Give it time,” Fireheart tried to encourage him. “They’ll come around.”

Privately, he wished he could believe it. Even with Bluestar’s defense, some of the ThunderClan cats would have no qualms about objecting to Graystripe’s return. One more problem, Fireheart thought, to add to his worries about what was really going on in the forest. How could the Clan hope to survive the destruction the dog pack would bring, unless they were united?

Fireheart wondered if Graystripe knew about the dark threat in the forest from RiverClan’s medicine cat the “pack” that StarClan had warned them of. Though Fireheart ’s fur prickled with dread, there was some comfort in knowing that Graystripe was back, and he would have his friend to rely on, whatever lay ahead. Fireheart began to lick his wound again, wishing that he could just enjoy the gray warrior’s return for a few moments.

“That’s right, get it clean,” Cinderpelt meowed as she came up to him. She sniffed at the leg wound and then rapidly checked his other injuries. “You’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’ll give you some cobwebs for the bleeding, but apart from that you just need to rest.”

“Have you seen Bluestar?” Fireheart asked as Jayfeather brought the cobwebs and laid them over the wound. “Is she badly hurt?”

“A bite on her shoulder,” replied the medicine cat. “I gave her a poultice of herbs, and she went back to her den.”

Fireheart struggled to his paws. “I’d better go and see her.”

“Okay, but if she’s asleep, don’t wake her. Clan business, whatever it is, can wait. And while Fireheart does that,” she added to Graystripe, “I’ll have a look at you.” She gave his ear a quick lick. “It’s good to have you back.”

At least some cats would welcome Graystripe, Fireheart told himself as he padded across the clearing. The others would change their minds; Graystripe just needed time to prove that he would to be a loyal member of ThunderClan again.

“Fireheart!” Sandstorm hailed him as he approached Bluestar’s den. “Mousefur and Thornclaw are going out to hunt.” She was walking uncomfortably, and Fireheart wondered when exactly she would have her kits.

“Thanks,” Fireheart mewed gratefully.

“Are you all right?” Sandstorm drew closer, her eyes narrowing. “I thought you’d be pleased — we won the battle, and Graystripe has come home.”

Fireheart pressed his muzzle briefly against her flank. “I know — but I’m not sure that all the cats will accept Graystripe. They’ll find it hard to forget that he loved a cat from another Clan, and then left us altogether.”

Sandstorm shrugged. “That’s in the past. He’s here now, isn’t he? They’ll just have to put up with it.”

“That’s not the point!” Pain and weariness made Fireheart more irritable than he intended. “We can’t afford quarrels just now. The dog pack is still a mostly unknown threat, and we’ll have to be united to deal with it.”

Sandstorm stared at him, understanding in her pale green eyes. “I know,” she murmured. “I’ll be right here to help.”

“Sandstorm, thank you. . .” Fireheart began, trying to think of a way to suitably express his gratitude.

“Of course, stupid furball,” she purred gently.

Feeling a little better than before, Fireheart went on to Bluestar’s den. When he looked through the entrance he thought she was asleep, curled up in her nest, but almost at once her blue eyes blinked open and she raised her head.

“Fireheart.” Her voice was dull with pain. “What do you want?”

“Just reporting, Bluestar.” Fireheart slipped into the den and stood in front of his leader. “All the cats are back. There are no serious injuries, as far as I can see.”

“Good.” Sounding a little more interested, she added, “Your apprentice and Sandstorm’s fought well today.”

“Yes, they did.” Fireheart felt a rush of pride in his kin. Whatever problems there had been with Cloudpaw in the past, no one could question his courage, and Tulippaw had incredible loyalty.

“I think it’s time they became a warrior,” Bluestar went on. “We’ll hold the naming ceremony at sunset.”

Hope flared in Fireheart’s chest. Bluestar making new warriors?

But his optimism increased when Bluestar smiled, and she added, “Sandstorm will be happy that she was able to finish her apprentice’s training.”

But Bluestar had made up her mind, and Fireheart wouldn’t try to change it. Instead he suggested, “Swiftblade should be mentioned too. He did well today.”

“Swiftblade carried a message back to the camp that brought back enough reinforcements,” Bluestar agreed. “I cannot make him a warrior a second time, of course, but I will mention him.”

“Thank you, Bluestar,” Fireheart meowed. He dipped his head and backed away. “I’ll see you at sunset,” he meowed, and went to break the news to Cloudpaw and Tulippaw.

The apprentices, as Fireheart had guessed, were delighted at the news that he was to become a warrior at last. Fireheart instructed them on what he had to do in the ceremony, and then headed for the warriors’ den and some much-needed sleep. 

*  *  *  *  *

The sun was sinking behind the wall of the camp when Fireheart emerged from the warriors’ den with Graystripe close behind him. Sleep had restored his body, and he tried to feel optimistic about the coming ceremony, even though he was not looking forward to it.

Shadows were stretching across the camp, and Fireheart saw that Bluestar had emerged from her den. To his relief she was moving easily, and the shoulder wound she had taken in the battle didn’t seem to be bothering her as she sprang up onto the Highrock.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting,” she called.

Graystripe gave Fireheart a friendly nudge. “You’ve done well with Cloudpaw,” he meowed. “I never thought that pest of a kit would grow up into such a fine warrior!”

Fireheart acknowledged his friend’s praise by pressing his muzzle against the gray warrior’s shoulder. His friend remember how upset he had been when Cinderpelt had her accident, and knew how much it meant to Fireheart to have an public apprentice ready to be made a warrior at last. Brackenpaw, though he had been made a warrior long ago, had always been known to the Clan as Graystripe’s apprentice.

Many of the cats were already in the clearing. News of Cloudpaw’s warrior ceremony must have spread around the camp. Cinderpelt appeared from her den and took her place near the base of the rock, while Goldenflower and Cinderheart brought their kits to sit at the front of the gathering crowd. Willowpelt’s litter stayed with their mother near the entrance to the nursery.

Fireheart couldn’t help noticing that the other apprentices were the last to join the circle around the rock. Fernpaw and Ashpaw were the same age as Tulippaw, and they would hopefully become warriors soon. He saw the youngest five warriors sitting in a cheerful group, Cinderheat beside them as well.

A pang of dismay shot through Fireheart. It wasn’t Cloudpaw’s fault that Bluestar had chosen him and Tulippaw and not the others. Hopefully he would still have the good wishes of his friends when he became a warrior.

But Cloudpaw didn’t seem bothered. He strolled out of the elders’ den and padded across to Fireheart, Sandstorm, and Tulippaw with his tail waving in the air, his eyes shining with excitement.

Fireheart murmured into his ear, “I’m very proud of you, Cloudpaw. Tomorrow you can take a hunting patrol over to Twolegplace and tell Princess.”

Cloudpaw shot him a delighted look, but before he could say anything, Bluestar spoke. “Cloudpaw, Tulippaw, you fought well against RiverClan this morning, and I have decided that the time has come for you to take your place as warriors in ThunderClan.”

The white and pale gray toms turned to face the Highrock and gazed up at their leader as she began to speak the ritual words. “I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.”

Her voice was harsh, and Fireheart thought that it was obvious that she was merely going through the motions of a ritual that had ceased to have meaning for her. Uneasily he wondered whether StarClan would be willing to watch over Cloudpaw when he had no respect for their warrior ancestors.

“Cloudpaw, Tulippaw,” Bluestar continued, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” Cloudpaw meowed fervently.

“I do,” Tulippaw promised.

Did his nephew understand what he was promising? Fireheart wondered. He was sure that Cloudpaw would do his best to protect the Clan, because these cats were his friends, but he knew that the young cat wouldn’t be prompted to act by any sense of loyalty to the warrior code.

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name,” Bluestar went on, each word dragged out of her like thorns. “Cloudpaw, from this moment you will be known as Cloudtail. StarClan honors your courage and your independence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan. Tulippaw, from this moment, you will be known as Tulipleaf. StarClan honors your loyalty and your humor.”

Leaping down from the Highrock, she padded over to Cloudtail and rested her muzzle on his head. Cloudtail gave her shoulder a respectful lick, then went over to stand beside Fireheart.

Bluestar did the same for Tulipleaf, who joined his former mentor, purring.

Brindleface immediately came to congratulate her kits. “Well done, Cloudtail, Tulipleaf!” she exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!”

As if she had given a signal, Cinderpelt and Graystripe came up, and then at last the other cats began to crowd around, greeting Cloudtail by his new name and congratulating him. The youngest warriors and the other apprentices were smiling excitedly.

Brightheart thrust her muzzle against Cloudtail’s and he purred contentedly. “I finally did it!” he exclaimed.

“I knew you would.” She pressed herself close to him. His eyes glistened, as though her faith meant more to him than any other cat.

“I never thought he would care for another cat as much as that,” Fireheart murmured.

“You didn’t notice?” There was a glint of amusement in Sandstorm’s pale green eyes. “He’s been padding after Brightheart for a season now. He really loves her, you know.”

Seeing the two young cats pressed together, celebrating, Fireheart could believe it.

“You’re keeping vigil tonight,” Fireheart reminded the two apprentices, trying to sound as if this were like any other warrior naming ceremony. “Remember, you have to stay silent until dawn.”

Cloudtail nodded and padded off to take up a position in the center of the clearing. His head and tail were raised proudly.

Tulipleaf paused for a moment. He smiled gratefully at Sandstorm. “I’m glad you were able to finish my training,” he mewed.

“I am too,” she meowed in response. “You were an excellent apprentice, and I know you’ll be a great warrior too.”

With that, Tulipleaf joined Cloudtail, his eyes fixed towards Silverpelt. Fireheart couldn’t help but wonder if he had more approval from StarClan, since the pale gray warrior had all the faith in StarClan that Cloudtail lack.

Then, shaking his head to clear it, Fireheart sighed. It doesn’t matter now. ThunderClan has two new warriors. We are growing stronger, and that’s all that matters.

Chapter Text

Fireheart was pulled from sleep by a kit’s wail somewhere in the camp. He blinked open his eyes, still bleary from sleep. He stumbled to his paws and immediately realized two things. The first thing he noticed was that he was finding it much more difficult to wake up than he should be after a night of rest. The second was that the warriors’ den was empty and bright sunlight was streaming through its branches.

The kit’s wail sounded again, and Fireheart shrugged off his drowsiness, pelting towards the nursery. He hadn’t recognized the voice of the kit, which meant that either ThunderClan had once again acquired a kit from somewhere else, or Sandstorm had given birth last night.

Without me, he thought, horrified. How could I have slept through that?

He made it to the nursery and saw that the five oldest kits were wrestling in a heap. Even Snowkit was joining in, and Fireheart could see that his confidence had grown immensely since he’d fought the hawk.

The kits paused when they saw him, giggling. “Go in! Go in!” Bramblekit purred.

“You have to see!” Honeykit added.

Cinderheart emerged from the nursery and gave both young cats a stern look. “Shh,” she ordered. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

“Find out what?” Fireheart asked, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer. “And why did I just now wake up?”

Wincing, Cinderheart replied, “Yeah, about that…Jayfeather wanted me to apologize for him. He feels very guilty for giving you poppy seeds.”

“Poppy seeds! How?”

“He hid them in your prey,” Cinderheart explained. “He was worried you were going to burn yourself out. But he didn’t time it very well.”

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. Didn’t time it well? “Does that mean–” She nodded, and didn’t hesitate, slipping into the nursery.

“You’re awake.” Sandstorm’s relieved meow reached his ears before his eyes adjusted to the dim light. A third wail rang out, making him wince. “Hush, little one,” Sandstorm murmured. “Your father’s here now.”

Excitement flooded Fireheart. His eyes finally adjusted, he saw Sandstorm lying in the nest they’d made for her after Cloudtail and Tulipleaf’s ceremony. Tucked in the curve of her belly were three kits. One of them, who wailed again, was a dark ginger she-cat with a single white paw and a tail that was already incredibly fluffy. The second was a light brown tabby she-cat with white paws. She squirmed closer to her sister, as if to comfort her. The third was a pale ginger tom with white ears and a gray-capped tail.

“They’re perfect!” Fireheart purred softly. “Oh, Sandstorm, thank you!”

“I told you before, we did this together,” Sandstorm reminded him.

He shook his head. “Not this. You did this all by yourself while I was…sleeping.” He spat out the word angrily.

“That wasn’t your fault,” she sighed. “You needed the rest. None of realized my kits were coming tonight.” She smiled. “Come on, help me name our kits.”

Fireheart padded closer and settled down beside her, gazing at the kits. “They’re so beautiful.”

Sandstorm laughed. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t call any of them Beautifulkit. That wouldn’t really work.” She studied them for a moment. “How about Leafkit for the brown she-kit? She keeps drifting closer to her sister, like a leaf on the wind.”

“Leafkit is perfect,” Fireheart agreed. “And what about Squirrelkit for her sister? Her tail’s as fluffy as a squirrel’s, and this way they stay in the trees together.”

Sandstorm nodded agreement. Squirrelkit let a loud squeal. “She’s as noisy as a squirrel,” Sandstorm muttered. “What do you think for the tom?”

Fireheart thought about it for a moment. “I…don’t know.”

“I think I do,” Sandstorm mewed. “How about Yellowkit. The gray on his tail is the same as Yellowfang’s fur and I know you miss her. This way, you’ll have a happy reminder of her.”

“Yellowkit,” Fireheart repeated, testing out the name. “I like it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Sandstorm decided. “Our kits are Leafkit, Squirrelkit, and Yellowkit.”

Fireheart purred. “They’re perfect.”

Chapter Text

Fireheart headed toward the pile of fresh-kill. It was almost sunhigh, but though the rays poured down brightly into the clearing there was little warmth in them. Leaf-bare had come to the forest.

Days had passed since Sandstorm had given birth. Cinderpelt and Jayfeather checked on the kits everyday, with Jayfeather always muttering an unexpected addition. Clearly, Yellowkit had not existed in the original timeline. Fireheart wondered why this had changed.

Cloudtail spent nearly every moment with Brightheart. Fireheart happily assigned them to shared patrols; after all, this was one of the ways he’d been able to spend time with Sandstorm.

As Fireheart crossed the clearing, he saw Graystripe emerge from the warriors’ den and approach the fresh-kill pile. Darkstripe overtook him before he reached it and shouldered him aside to snatch up a rabbit. Dustpelt, already choosing his own meal, gave Graystripe a hostile glare and the gray warrior hesitated, unwilling to go any closer until the other two warriors had withdrawn to the nettle patch to eat.

Quickening his pace, Fireheart came up beside his friend. “Ignore them,” he muttered. “They keep their brains in their tails.”

Graystripe flashed him a grateful glance before picking a magpie out of the pile.

“Let’s eat together,” Fireheart suggested, choosing a vole and leading the way to a sunny patch of ground near the warriors’ den. “And don’t let those two worry you,” he added. “They can’t stay hostile forever.”

Graystripe did not look convinced, but he said nothing more, and the two warriors settled down to eat. Across the clearing, Tawnykit and Bramblekit were playing with Willowpelt’s three kits. A little farther away, Hollykit and Honeykit were showing Snowkit something, their eyes excited. Fireheart felt a pang of grief as he remembered how Brightheart had sometimes played with them, as if she were looking forward to having kits herself. Now that she was a warrior, maybe she’d have a chance to mother her own litter now.

“I can’t get over how much that kit looks like his father,” meowed Graystripe after watching them for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like,” Fireheart replied. “Bramblekit has his own path to follow.” He stiffened when he saw Bramblekit bowl over one of Willowpelt’s much smaller kits, most likely forgetting once again that he wasn’t dealing with Honeykit, but relaxed again as the tiny tortoiseshell sprang up and hurled herself joyfully on Bramblekit.

“It must be time he was apprenticed,” remarked Graystripe. “He and Tawnykit are older than — ” He broke off, and a distant, sorrowful expression clouded his amber eyes.

Fireheart knew that he was thinking of his own kits, left behind in RiverClan. “Yes, it’s time I was thinking about mentors,” he agreed, hoping to distract his friend from his bittersweet memories. “I’ll ask Bluestar if I can mentor Bramblekit myself. Who do you think would — ”

“You’ll mentor Bramblekit?” Graystripe stared at him. “Hmmm, maybe that is a good idea.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Fireheart asked, feeling his fur start to prickle. “I haven’t an apprentice, now that Cloudtail has been made a warrior.”

“You really do like Bramblekit,” retorted Graystripe. “I think you trust him more than the rest of the Clan does.”

Fireheart nodded. There was some truth in what Graystripe said, but Fireheart knew that he couldn’t give the task to any other cat. He had to have Bramblekit under his own guidance to make sure he had a mentor who actually trusted his loyalty to ThunderClan.

“He’s a bright and kind young cat,” he mewed curtly. “I wanted to ask you who you think would be good for Tawnykit, Hollykit, and Honeykit.”

Graystripe paused, as if he wanted to go on arguing, then shrugged. “If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s currently nursing newborn kits, I’d say there’s an obvious choice.” When Fireheart didn’t speak, he added, “Sandstorm, you mouse-brain!”

Fireheart took a mouthful of vole to give himself time to think of an answer. Sandstorm was an experienced warrior. She had been an apprentice along with Fireheart himself, Graystripe, and Dustpelt, and she’d successfully trained an apprentice of her own. And perhaps he could give her an apprentice later, but it was too early right now.

Swallowing the vole, he meowed, “I more or less promised Snowkit to Brackenfur. It’s only fair mentor him now, seeing as Bluestar announced Snowkit can become a warrior. Besides, he’s a fine warrior, and he’ll do a good job. He even knows the communication system Dovewing came up with.”

Graystripe’s eyes glowed briefly with pride; Brackenfur had been his apprentice first, and he was clearly delighted to hear how well the young warrior was doing. “That still leaves three apprentices with no mentors.”

Fireheart sighed. “Hollykit wants Ivypool to mentor her. After the way Ivypool saved her during the fire, her heart’s kind of set on it.”

“But Ivypool still hasn’t woken up,” Graystripe pointed out. “Some other cat needs to train her until then.”

“I know,” Fireheart groaned. “How does Bluestar do this?” he wondered. “Is it easier when there’re only two or three kits becoming apprentices?”

Graystripe shrugged. “Probably. And it doesn’t help that there are four apprentices already.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Fireheart muttered.

*  *  *  *  *

“You want to mentor Bramblekit?” asked Bluestar.

Fireheart stood in her den. He had just raised the question of the new apprentices, suggesting that they should hold the naming ceremony at sunset.

“Yes,” he mewed. “And Lightfrost to mentor Tawnykit, Brackenfur to mentor Snowkit, and Dovewing to mentor Honeykit. There is one small problem with Hollykit’s mentor, though.”

Bluestar gazed at him with narrowed eyes. “You’ve chosen four fine cats to train these young ones,” she told him. “Very suitable choices. But I don’t see the problem with Hollykit’s mentor, besides the fact you haven’t made any recommendations.”

“Bluestar, she wants Ivypool to mentor her,” Fireheart explained. “But Ivypool hasn’t woken up yet, so another cat would have to train her in the meantime. And I don’t think it would be fair to whoever her temporary mentor is.”

Bluestar looked at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps Swiftblade could train her?” she suggested. “He’s a very understanding young warrior.”

Fireheart nodded, a bit relieved. Backing out of the den, he returned to the clearing.

The sun was already going down, and the Clan had begun to gather in anticipation of the ceremony. Fireheart spotted Brackenfur and called him over.

“You’re ready for an apprentice,” he announced. “How would you like to mentor Snowkit?”

Brackenfur’s eyes glowed. “Do you really mean it?” he stammered. “That would be great!”

“You’ll do a fine job,” Fireheart meowed. “Do you know what to do in the ceremony?”

The golden-brown warrior nodded.

As the Clan assembled, Fireheart noticed Graystripe crouching alone not far from the Highrock. Mousefur stalked pointedly past him on her way to sit with the other she-cats. Frustrated at the way some of the Clan still refused to accept Graystripe, Fireheart wanted to go over to reassure him, but he had to stay where he was, ready for his part in the ceremony. A moment later Cloudtail, Brightheart and Whitestorm appeared from the nursery and settled down alongside the gray warrior, to Fireheart’s relief.

Cinderpelt followed them out of the ferns and limped hurriedly over to Fireheart. As she drew closer he saw that her blue eyes were sparkling. “Good news, Fireheart,” she announced. “Your kits are going well, and they’re strong.”

Fireheart let out a delighted purr. “That’s great, Cinderpelt.” But for all his relief at the news, he couldn’t help wondering why the medicine cats were so concerned with his kits.

“Leafkit is already sitting up and trying to groom herself,” Cinderpelt went on. “She keeps trying to groom her littermates, even though her eyes aren’t open yet. Squirrelkit especially doesn’t appreciate it.”

Fireheart wanted to ask her when she and Jayfeather would stop fussing so much, but he had to pay attention to the ceremony as Goldenflower, Speckletail, and Cinderheart came out of the nursery, flanked by their kits. Fireheart could see all the kits had been groomed especially carefully. Tawnykit’s ginger fur glowed like a flame in the dying sun, and Bramblekit’s dark tabby pelt had a glossy sheen. Snowkit looked like his freshly fallen namesake. Honeykit looked like a mini sun, while Hollykit looked more like her namesake than every before. As they approached the Highrock, Tawnykit bounced around with excitement, but Bramblekit seemed calm, padding forward with his head and tail held high. The other three kits were somewhere in between, though Hollykit's eyes made it clear how hard she was trying to be dignified.

Fireheart wondered if this was what Tigerstar had looked like when he had first been made an apprentice. Had he shown the same promise of courage and a long life in the service of his Clan? Had his Clan leader and his mentor had any idea of what he was destined to become?

Bluestar called all five kits forward to stand beside her at the foot of the Highrock. Fireheart noticed that she was looking more alert than usual, as if she was unused to the prospect of having so many more warriors to fight for her Clan.

“Brackenfur,” she began, “Fireheart tells me that you are ready for your first apprentice. You will be mentor to Snowpaw.”

Looking nearly as excited as his new apprentice, Brackenfur stepped forward, and Snowpaw ran up to meet him.

“Brackenfur,” Bluestar continued, “you have shown yourself to be a warrior of loyalty and forethought. Do your best to pass on these qualities to Snowpaw.”

Brackenfur and Snowpaw touched noses and withdrew to the side of the clearing, while Bluestar turned to Fireheart.

“Now that Cloudtail is a warrior,” she went on, “you are free to take on another apprentice. You will be mentor to Bramblepaw.”

Her eyes glittered as she gazed at Fireheart.

Bramblepaw padded toward his mentor, and Fireheart went to meet him in the middle of the circle of cats. Looking down into the young cat’s eyes, he felt both stirred and challenged by the blaze of enthusiasm there.

What a warrior he’ll make! Fireheart thought, and then added silently, It doesn’t matter if he's Tigerstar’s son, I know he’ll make ThunderClan proud!

“Fireheart, you have shown yourself to be a warrior of rare courage and quick thinking,” meowed Bluestar, her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure that you will pass on all you know to this young apprentice.”

Fireheart bent his head to touch noses with Bramblepaw. As he led the new apprentice back to the side of the clearing, Bramblepaw asked, “What do we do now, Fireheart? I want to learn everything — fighting and hunting and all about the other Clans. ...”

Smiling, Fireheart found himself enjoying the young cat’s enthusiasm. It reminded him of how he’d felt when he’d first joined ThunderClan.

He met Goldenflower’s gaze, silently asking if she approved of his decision to mentor her son. She nodded acceptance.

But what would happen when Tigerstar found out? He could feel Darkstripe watching him closely and knew that the dark warrior would take the news to Tigerstar at the next Gathering, if not before.

“All in good time,” Fireheart promised the eager apprentice. “Tomorrow we’ll go with Brackenfur, Lightfrost and your sister and Snowpaw to tour the territory. Then you’ll learn where the borders are and how to recognize the scents of the other Clans.”

“Great!” Bramblepaw let out an excited squeak.

“But for now,” Fireheart went on as Bluestar drew the meeting to a close, “you can go and get to know the other apprentices. Don’t forget you sleep in their den tonight.”

He flicked his tail in dismissal, and Bramblepaw dashed off to his sister’s side as the other cats started to crowd around, congratulating the five new apprentices and calling them by their new names.

“Yeah, that’s right, take that, Tigerdung!” Robinpaw yowled cheerfully. “ThunderClan has five new apprentices. Bet you can’t beat us now!”

“Robinpaw!” Redpaw muttered. “We’re supposed to be helping, not drawing unnecessary attention!”

She shrugged. “Hey, Healer told us everything about that no-good mangepelt. I’m not going to sit back and watch like a terrified mouse.”

Watching them, Fireheart saw Graystripe get up and come toward him, passing Sandstorm on the way. The ginger she-cat had left their kits with Surge just for the ceremony. He heard his mate meow, “Graystripe, are you sorry you weren’t given an apprentice?”

“In a way,” Graystripe replied. He sounded awkward, shooting Fireheart a sideways glance as he spoke. “I can’t expect one for a while, though. Half the Clan haven’t accepted me yet.”

“Then half the Clan are stupid furballs,” asserted Sandstorm, giving the gray warrior’s ear a lick.

Graystripe shrugged. “I know I’ll have to prove my loyalty before I can mentor an apprentice again. I didn’t do well the last time,” he added. “Maybe when Willowpelt’s kits are ready.”

A look of understanding flashed across Sandstorm’s face. She picked up a vole from the fresh-kill pile and headed back to the nursery.

Fireheart followed her, passing Surge as she left. The kits were sleeping. Leafkit and Yellowkit were silent besides the sound of their breathing, while Squirrelkit was snoring softly. Sorrelkit was sitting beside them, her eyes excited.

“I still can’t believe how perfect they are,” Fireheart whispered.

Sandstorm smiled. “You know you don’t have to mention it every time.”

Willowpelt laughed from where she was gently licking her sons, who were also asleep. “Let him have this,” she purred. “So many of the newest generation of warriors don’t know who their fathers are. But at least our kits will grow up knowing their fathers and that their fathers love them.” She looked around the den. “I am going to miss having Cinderheart in the nursery though. It was nice to spend some time with my daughter’s daughter.”

“You mean granddaughter?” Sorrelkit meowed.

“Granddaughter?” Willowpelt echoed.

Sorrelkit grinned. “Robinpaw taught it to us. The ‘grand’ means that a cat is the direct kin of another cat. Like how Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf are kin of Fireheart’s kin, because their mother will be Leafkit.”

Fireheart frowned. “Did Robinpaw tell you that or Hollypaw and Honeypaw?”

“Both,” Sorrelkit meowed innocently. “They know some great stories. Did you know that Surge, Robinpaw, and Redpaw are adopted kin to you and the time travelers?”

Actually, I did know that, Fireheart thought, fighting off a jolt of panic that was spreading through him at how close Sorrelkit was to revealing that Hollyleaf was alive and in this time. “Er, no, Sorrelkit. But maybe we should hold off on talking about family connections for now. We don’t want to wake the other kits up.”

“Okay!” Sorrelkit agreed cheerfully.

She went back to watching his kits, and Fireheart couldn’t help but think that she the most energetic of the group in the nursery right now. And while he didn’t want her accidentally revealing things that shouldn’t have been told to her in the first place, he hoped nothing ever diminished her light.

*  *  *  *  *

“Keep well back, ” Brackenfur warned. “ This is a dangerous place.”

He, Lightfrost, and Fireheart, with their three apprentices, were standing at the edge of the Thunderpath.

Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw wrinkled their noses against its bitter smell.

“It doesn’t look dangerous to me,” meowed Bramblepaw. Tentatively he reached out one paw to place it on the dark, stony surface.

At the same moment, Fireheart felt the ground tremble with the roar of an approaching monster. “Get back!” he snarled.

Snowpaw had already reacted, apparently having sensed the vibrations as well, and he pulled Bramblepaw back into the safety of the verge as the monster flashed past, buffeting his fur with hot, stinking wind. Both young cats were quivering with shock.

Tawnypaw’ s eyes were wide with astonishment. “What was that?” she mewed.

“A monster,” Fireheart explained. “They carry Twolegs in their belly. But they never leave the Thunderpath, so you’re quite safe — as long as you stay away from it.” He fixed Bramblepaw with a stern gaze. “When a warrior tells you to do something, you do it. Ask questions if you like, but afterward.”

Bramblepaw nodded, scuffling his paws. “Sorry, Fireheart.”

He was already recovering from the shock; Fireheart had to admit that many more experienced cats would have been terrified to find themselves so close to a monster. Since they had left camp that morning, Bramblepaw had shown himself to be brave, curious, and eager to learn.

Brightheart, Cloudtail, Graystripe, and Whitestorm had gone out on the dawn patrol, while Fireheart and Brackenfur gave their apprentices the tour of the territory. Fireheart had found himself moving with extra stealth along the once-familiar trails, haunted by shadows and afraid at any moment that he would come face-to-face with the dark presence in the forest.

He had kept well away from Snakerocks, unwilling to risk that accursed place with three new apprentices. Soon, he knew, he would have to do something about the threat that lurked there, but he was waiting until he had a better idea of what to do. And deep down Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if his warriors would be able to deal with it.

“What’s over there?” Tawnypaw flicked her tail at the part of the forest on the other side of the Thunderpath.

“That’s ShadowClan territory,” Brackenfur told her. “Can you smell their scent?”

A chill breeze was carrying the scent of ShadowClan toward them. Bramblepaw, Snowpaw, and Tawnypaw opened their mouths to taste it.

Snowpaw nodded. “It’s bad.”

“We’ve smelled that before,” announced Tawnypaw.

“Oh?” Brackenfur shot a startled glance at Fireheart, and Lightfrost frowned.

“When Darkstripe brought us to the border to meet our father,” explained Bramblepaw.

“I spotted them. Robinpaw too. She tackled Tigerstar immediately, and Darkstripe had to pull her off.” Fireheart wanted Brackenfur to know that this wasn’t news to him. “I suppose we can’t blame Tigerstar for wanting to see them,” he added, forcing himself to be charitable.

Brackenfur didn’t reply, but he looked faintly worried, as if he shared Fireheart’s misgivings about Tigerstar’s relationship with these ThunderClan kits. Lightfrost just nodded, and Fireheart remembered that he was also Tigerstar’s kin, as the son of Tigerstar’s sister Mistflow.

“Can we go over there now and see our father?” Tawnypaw asked eagerly.

“No!” Brackenfur sounded shocked. “Clan cats don’t go into each other’s territory. If a patrol caught us, there would be big trouble.”

“Not if we told them Tigerstar’s our father,” Bramblepaw insisted. “He wanted to see us last time.”

“Brackenfur told you no,” Fireheart said firmly. “I don’t want to catch either of you trespassing on any Clan’s territory.”

Lightfrost snorted. “Of course not. We wouldn’t want the apprentices to follow the warrior’s example, no would we.”

Fireheart glared at him. “Those were missions I had permission for or spontaneous rescues. It’s not like I was going off just to explore.”

Tawnypaw watched the warriors talking, her gaze nervous.

Bramblepaw’s amber eyes searched Fireheart’s face for several heartbeats. “Fireheart,” he meowed hesitantly, “there’s something else, isn’t there? Why will no cat talk to us about our father? Why did he leave ThunderClan? Even Honeykit and Hollykit won’t tell us, and they talk about everything they’re not supposed to.”

Fireheart stared down at his apprentice. He couldn’t see any way of avoiding such a direct question. Long ago, he had promised Goldenflower that he would tell her kits the truth, but he had hoped for a bit more time to think out exactly what he would say.

He exchanged a quick glance with Brackenfur and Lightfrost, and the golden-brown younger warrior murmured, “If you don’t tell them, some other cat will.”

He was right, Fireheart realized. The time had come for him to fulfill his promise to Goldenflower. Clearing his throat, he meowed, “All right. Let’s find a place to rest and I’ll tell you.”

He retreated several rabbit-hops from the Thunderpath until he came to a dip in the ground sheltered by a few clumps of fern, brown and broken now in the frosts of leaf-bare. The three apprentices followed, their eyes wide and curious.

“Brackenfur, can you take Snowpaw back to camp?” Fireheart requested. “This is something they need to hear alone.”

His friend nodded, and stomped his paw once on the ground. Snowpaw dipped his head, following his mentor back in the direction of the camp.

Fireheart checked that there was no smell of dog before settling down in a patch of dry grass, tucking his paws under his chest. Lightfrost remained at the top of the slope, keeping watch for danger, from the dog or from ShadowClan territory so close by.

“Before I tell you about your father,” Fireheart began, “I want you to remember that ThunderClan is proud of you. You’ll both make fine warriors. What I’m going to say now won’t make any difference to that. I believe in both of you. I have for a long time.”

The apprentices’ curiosity changed to uneasiness as they listened. Fireheart knew they must be wondering what was coming next.

“Tigerstar is a great warrior,” he went on. “And he always wanted to be leader of a Clan. Before he left ThunderClan, he was deputy.”

Bramblepaw’s eyes glowed excitedly. “When I’m a warrior, I’d like to be deputy too.”

Fireheart’s fur prickled with amusement. “I’m sure someday you will be, but for now, this is something to which you need to listen.”

Bramblepaw dipped his head obediently.

“As I said, Tigerstar has always been a great warrior,” Fireheart continued, forcing each word into the cold air. “But there was a fight with RiverClan over Sunningrocks, and Tigerstar used the battle to kill Redtail, who was the ThunderClan deputy then. He blamed a RiverClan warrior, but we found out what really happened.”

He paused. Both apprentices were staring at him with disbelief and horror in their eyes.

“You mean. . .he killed a cat of his own Clan?” Tawnypaw faltered.

“I don’t believe it!” Bramblepaw let out a desperate cry.

“It’s true,” Fireheart meowed, feeling sick with the effort of telling these kits the truth about their father’s treachery in a way that was be unbiased, and would not alienate the kits from their birth-clan. He needed to make sure they didn’t think he saw them only with Tigerstar in mind. “He hoped he would be made deputy in Redtail’s place, but Bluestar chose a cat called Lionheart instead.”

“Tigerstar didn’t kill Lionheart as well?” asked Bramblepaw, his voice quavering.

“No, he didn’t. Lionheart died in a battle with ShadowClan. Tigerstar became deputy then, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be leader.”

He paused again, wondering how much to say. No need to burden these apprentices, he decided, with the tale of how Cinderpelt had been injured in a trap set by Tigerstar for Bluestar, or Tigerstar’s attempts to murder Fireheart himself.

“He gathered a band of rogues from the forest,” he continued. “They attacked ThunderClan, and Tigerstar tried to kill Bluestar.”

“Kill Bluestar!” Tawnypaw gasped. “But she’s our leader!”

“Tigerstar thought that he could make himself leader in her place,” Fireheart explained, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “The Clan sent him into exile, and that’s when he joined ShadowClan and became their leader.”

The two apprentices looked at each other. “So our father was a traitor?” mewed Bramblepaw softly.

“Well, yes,” Fireheart replied. “But I know it’s hard to think about that. Just remember that both of you can be proud to belong to ThunderClan. And the Clan are proud of you, just as I said. You’re not responsible for what your father did. You can be great warriors, completely loyal to your Clan and the warrior code.”

“But our father wasn’t loyal,” Tawnypaw mewed. “Does that mean he’s our enemy now?”

Fireheart met her scared gaze. “All cats from other Clans have to have their own interests at heart,” he told her gently. “That’s what Clan loyalty means. Your father is loyal to ShadowClan now, just as it is your duty to be loyal to ThunderClan.”

There was silence for a few heartbeats, and then Tawnypaw drew herself up and gave her chest fur a few quick licks. “Thank you for telling us, Fireheart. Is it. . .is it really true that the rest of the Clan are proud of us?”

“It really is,” Fireheart assured her. “Don’t forget, the Clan discovered all this when you two were only newborns. And they’ve never wanted to punish you, have they?”

Tawnypaw blinked gratefully at him. Glancing at Bramblepaw, Fireheart saw that he was gazing up at the sky between the arching fronds of fern. There was no reading the emotion in his amber eyes.

“Bramblepaw?” Fireheart meowed uneasily. The young cat did not respond. Wanting to reassure him, Fireheart went on, “Work hard and be loyal to your Clan, and no cat will blame you for what your father did.”

Bramblepaw’s head whipped around; his eyes glared at his mentor with all the hostility that Fireheart had once seen in Tigerstar. He had never looked more like his father. “But that’s not true, is it?” he hissed. “Cats in this Clan blame us. I’ve seen the way some of them look at me. I know you trust me, and so do the time travelers, and Honeypaw and Hollypaw and Snowpaw, but the other cats…they don’t see us that way. Some of them will never trust us!”

Fireheart stared at him, unable to deny the young cat’s accusations. For a few heartbeats he had no idea what to say. Then his mind cleared. “It may take you some time to prove yourself to the Clan, and it’s unfair. It was the same way for me when I joined. I was a kittypet, soft and untested. But something I’ve realized is that in a Clan, every cat has to prove themselves, every day. Some cats might have an easier time proving their loyalty than others, but what’s important is that you get to choose the kind of cat you become.”

 Bramblepaw hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “Thank you, Fireheart,” he meowed. “I’m going to prove to ThunderClan that they can trust me. I’m going to catch the most prey; I’m going to make the camp safer than it has been in seasons. I promise.” He sprang to his paws and darted through the ferns to the top of the hollow, where Lightfrost was waiting. Tawnypaw cast one surprised look at Fireheart and scurried after her brother.

Fireheart heard Lightfrost meow, “Ready to go? Let’s head along the border up to Fourtrees.” He paused and called out, “Fireheart, are you ready?”

“Coming,” Fireheart replied. His heart felt lighter as he rose and followed the apprentices. He could see the conviction in his apprentice. Bramblepaw would make a fine warrior someday, he was sure of it.

*  *  *  *  *

Early the next morning,  Fireheart emerged into the clearing to find the dawn patrol getting ready to leave. Graystripe was waiting beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel with Swiftblade and Lightfrost, while Dustpelt was calling Ashpaw from the apprentices den.

Distractedly, Fireheart let his gaze swing across the rest of the camp. Then, a sharp exclamation startled him and he spun around.

“How in StarClan did you get this?” Dustpelt demanded, staring at Ashpaw. Fireheart could see the young tom had another injury, this time, a bad bite on one cheek. “Did you get into a fight with one of the other apprentices?”

Ashpaw flinched at the word “fight”, shaking his head quickly. “I went hunting last night and a rabbit got the best of me,” he mewed shakily. Fireheart could tell he was lying.

Dustpelt frowned. “Well, you can’t go on patrol with an injury like that; it’s likely to get infected. Go see Cinderpelt or Jayfeather.”

“Okay,” Ashfur mumbled. He stayed where he was and watched as Dustpelt ran to join the patrol.

Once the other cats had left camp, Ashpaw slowly walked over to Fireheart, his head drooping, and his blue eyes filled with shame.

“Ashpaw?” Fireheart asked gently. “Is everything all right?”

The young cat looked up at him, hesitating, and slowly shook his head. “I know what happened to Ivypool,” he whispered.

Just a few moments later, Fireheart, Ashpaw, and the time travelers were squeezed into the medicine cats’ den. Dovewing had sent Honeypaw out with Brackenfur and Snowpaw, and now she was crouched beside her sister.

Fireheart had taken a position in front of Ashpaw, worried that Lionblaze would try to leap at him. The hostility from the warrior filled the den, and no one was surprised when he harshly ordered, “Talk.”

Ashpaw shivered, nodding. “It first started soon after I became an apprentice. I had a dream where I was at Fourtrees, and I was approached by a cat who said his name was Ashfur. He claimed to be me as a warrior from the future. Since I knew all of you were from the future too, it made sense, and he did look like me except for a scar on the back of his neck. He said that he had trained Lionblaze, and offered to train me too. Since I wanted to be as great a warrior as you, I figured it wouldn't hurt to accept training from the StarClan version of my future self.”

“That mangepelt made it to StarClan!” Jayfeather snarled. “How dare they let him in after what he did!”

Lionblaze swished his tail angrily. “More importantly, how did he get to the past, and how come no one told us?”

“Because he’s not just a StarClan cat,” Ashpaw explained quietly. “He’s a Realm Walker.”

“A Realm Walker?” Dovewing echoed.

Ashpaw nodded. “Ashfur didn’t explain this to me until last night, but when a Clan cat only makes it into StarClan because of a few, or in his case, one vote, they have the ability to cross between StarClan and the Dark Forest at will and to shield their presence from other spirits.”

“Who thought that was a good idea?” Jayfeather’s voice was scornful. “Did no cat stop to consider that letting cats who barely made it into StarClan wander freely into a place that corrupts anyone who steps foot in it was a bad idea?”

“The Founders thought it would be a good thing to have the cats they found expendable be the ones to guard the border.”

Cinderheart rolled her eyes. “This just gets better and better.”

“There’s more,” Ashpaw said seriously. “Up until last night, Ashfur was training me in StarClan territory. He had mentioned something about Ivypool’s spirit being trapped while she’s in her coma, but he wouldn’t take me to her until he decided I’d finished my training with him.”

“And you finally did?” Fireheart asked, feeling worried about where this was going.

Ashpaw nodded. “Last night, he took me across the border into the Dark Forest, to where Ivypool has been fighting Dark Forest cats for the last few moons. She’s made a couple allies, Snowtuft and Silverhawk, I think he called them, but they’re facing several other cats who are furious that she and Ho–Healer killed Brokenstar’s spirit.”

There was so much to grasp from what Ashpaw had just revealed, Fireheart didn’t know what to ask him.

But Jayfeather did, asking what was both the most irrelevant and dangerous question. “Who is this ‘Healer’ cat?” he demanded. “I’ve heard the name mentioned a couple times, but I haven’t been able to learn anything about it in any way.”

“You don’t know?” Ashpaw meowed in surprise. Fireheart froze, wondering what he would say. “Healer is this super cool she-cat who lives in Twolegplace. She goes around helping cats who live there and also in the Clans, but she hasn’t shown up in the forest in moons.”

“That’s strange,” Cinderheart said.

Dovewing cleared her throat. “Forget about Healer. What about my sister?”

“Right,” Ashpaw muttered. “Anyways, Ivypool’s been fighting these cats because they want revenge on her. They fight until every cat is too exhausted to keep going, rest for a while, and then go back to fighting each other. There are more Dark Forest cats fight against Ivypool, but she and her two allies have managed to kill some of the other spirits.

“When Ashfur brought me there, he told me to help Ivypool kill one of the spirits, and we did, but that’s when he revealed that he’d brought me to prove I was strong enough to do what he needed me to do.”

Fireheart frowned. “What did he need you to do.”

“He wanted me to kill Hollykit and Honeykit,” Ashpaw hissed. “I refused and demanded to know why he would even consider asking me to kill a cat, let alone two kits. Then he showed me exactly what kind of cat he is by taking me to witness some of his memories of the past, including scheming to kill Fireheart, trying to kill Lionblaze during a training session, and worst of all, trapping Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Hollyleaf in a fire in an a attempt to kill them, for revenge…on getting his heart broken.”

The time travelers stared at him in shock. “Ashfur showed you all that?” Lionblaze murmured.

“Ashfur is a monster!” Ashpaw snarled. “I never want to be like him. I want nothing to do with his legacy. I am so sorry for everything he did to you and all the pain he caused. You didn’t deserve to learn the truth about your parents because of what he did.”

“No, we didn’t,” Jayfeather agreed. “You’re right that Ashfur was, and is, a monster. But you are not that cat. And if you truly want to become different, to be better, then I’m willing to give you a second chance.”

“Me too,” Lionblaze meowed.

Ashpaw stared at them in surprise. “Really?”

Lionblaze dipped his head. “Like Jayfeather said, you’re not Ashfur. You have a chance to become your own cat, and we’re going to give it to you.”

“Thank you,” Ashpaw gasped. He turned to Fireheart. “I’m done with Ashfur. When I refused him the second time, he did this to my cheek, saying that he wanted me scarred permanently as a reminder of what I could have had. When I become a warrior, I want to be a different name, something besides Ashfur.”

“I’m glad you want to change, but how does this help Ivypool?” Dovewing demanded.

“I don’t know,” Ashpaw admitted. “But I thought you at least deserved to know.”

But how do we help her? Fireheart wondered. We must find a way to save Ivypool!

He’d scarcely finished the thought when a vaguely familiar spectral voice whispered, The only way to heal the infinite wounds of one immortal is to freely give a life that has not been taken.

Fireheart looked around, wondering if the others had heard. But no one reacted, and as he sat in the den, listening to them discuss what Ashpaw had told them, he realized that he knew the cat who had given him the message.

Longtail

Chapter Text

A full moon crossed the sky behind thin wisps of cloud as Bluestar led her warriors to the Gathering.

He had his doubts about including Graystripe, but his friend had begged desperately to be allowed to come. “Please, Fireheart! I’ll be able to get news of Featherkit and Stormkit,” he had meowed. Fireheart knew that Graystripe was inviting hostility from RiverClan by appearing so soon after the battle at Sunningrocks, and had half hoped that Bluestar would refuse. But the ThunderClan leader had merely flicked her tail in acceptance. “Let him come. It will do him good to hear news about his kits.”

Now Fireheart bunched together with the other ThunderClan warriors to follow Bluestar down the slope. As they emerged into the hollow, the first thing he saw was Tigerstar and Leopardstar sitting side by side, watching approvingly as a group of their apprentices scuffled playfully with each other. Fireheart’s fur crawled as he saw those two together. He still had no evidence that Tigerstar was plotting revenge on his former Clan, but Leopardstar would certainly be feeling hostile after her Clan’s defeat at Sunningrocks.

“You’ve done a good job there,” meowed Leopardstar to her companion. “Those are strong young cats, and they’ve learned their fighting moves well.” There was an edge to her voice, but Tigerstar didn’t seem to notice it.

A purr rumbled in Tigerstar’s chest. “We’ve made some progress,” he agreed. “But there’s a long way to go yet.”

A pair of tumbling apprentices rolled right up to their leaders’ paws and Leopardstar shifted backwards to give them more room. The young ShadowClan cats were certainly muscular and well fed, Fireheart thought; he could hardly believe they were the same scrawny creatures who had almost died when the sickness swept through their Clan. He exchanged an uneasy glance with Graystripe; sooner or later, he was sure, ThunderClan would have to meet these skilled fighters in battle.

At a word from Tigerstar the apprentices stopped their playful skirmish and sat up, licking their ruffled fur. The two leaders began to make their way toward the Great Rock. Fireheart spotted Bluestar already waiting at its base, but he couldn’t see Tallstar, the WindClan leader.

As the ThunderClan cats dispersed to meet with warriors in other Clans, he noticed Graystripe hurrying up to a plump bracken-colored she-cat, and caught the scent of RiverClan from her. Fireheart felt a pang of anxiety as he watched his friend. He trusted Graystripe absolutely, even though he would always have one paw in RiverClan while his kits were there. But several ThunderClan warriors would doubt his loyalty if they saw him so eager to talk to a RiverClan cat.

“Mosspelt, how are you?” Graystripe greeted the she-cat. “How are Featherkit and Stormkit?”

“Featherpaw and Stormpaw now,” replied Mosspelt proudly. “They’ve just been apprenticed.”

“That’s great!” Graystripe’s yellow eyes were glowing as he turned to Fireheart. “Did you hear what Mosspelt said? My kits are apprentices now.” He glanced around. “They’re not here, are they?”

Mosspelt shook her head. “They’re too newly apprenticed for that. Maybe next time. I’ll tell them you were asking after them, Graystripe.”

“Thanks.” Graystripe’s excitement faded and was replaced by anxiety. “What did they think when I didn’t come back from the battle?”

“Once they knew you weren’t dead, they coped well,” replied Mosspelt. “Come on, Graystripe; it wasn’t much of a shock. Every cat in RiverClan knew you would go back eventually.”

Graystripe blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Really. All the time you used to spend mooning around on the border or looking across the river. All the stories you told those kits about what you and Fireheart used to get up to when you were apprentices. . .It wasn’t hard to see that your heart had never left ThunderClan.”

Graystripe blinked again. “I’m sorry, Mosspelt.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” retorted Mosspelt briskly. “And you can be sure that your kits will be well cared for. I’ll keep an eye on them, and Mistyfoot and Stonefur are mentoring them.”

“They are?” Graystripe’s eyes lit up again. “That’s great!”

Fireheart felt a pang of misgiving. Mistyfoot and Stonefur were both fine warriors, but he wondered why they had agreed to mentor Graystripe’s kits. Mistyfoot had been a good friend to their mother, Silverstream, and so she might be expected to take an interest. But she and her brother had reacted with such hostility when he told them that Bluestar was their mother that Fireheart was surprised they wanted anything to do with kits who were half ThunderClan. Or was it possible that they wanted to teach the kits to be especially hostile toward their father’s Clan?

“You’ll tell them how proud I am, won’t you?” Graystripe meowed urgently to Mosspelt. “And remind them to do what their mentors tell them?”

“Of course I will.” Mosspelt let out a reassuring purr. “And I know Mistyfoot will help you keep in touch with them. Leopardstar might not like it, but. . .well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Fireheart had his doubts; after her rejection of Bluestar, Mistyfoot might not want anything more to do with ThunderClan. He suspected she would feel more loyal than ever to RiverClan and Graypool, the cat she had always loved as her mother.

“Thanks, Mosspelt,” mewed Graystripe. “I won’t forget all you’ve done.” He looked around as yowling sounded from the top of the Great Rock to signal the start of the meeting.

Turning, Fireheart saw that all four leaders were now assembled, their pelts shining in the moonlight as they stood looking down at the cats below. He paid little attention as the leaders formally opened the meeting. Instead, he wondered whether Bluestar would mention the presence of the dogs again, and whether any of the other leaders had similar news. Fireheart almost hoped that they had, because that would prove that the dark force in the forest was not a threat to ThunderClan alone, and not something they should have to face alone. Fireheart couldn’t help thinking it was something greater even than that, a huge shadow that encompassed the whole forest; something that did not know the warrior code and regarded the cats merely as its prey.

When Tallstar had finished, Tigerstar stepped forward. He gave a quick summary of how ShadowClan’s training program was progressing, that another new litter of kits had been born, and that three apprentices had been made into warriors. “ShadowClan grows strong again,” he finished. “We are ready to take a full part in the life of the forest.”

Fireheart wondered if that meant ready to attack our neighbors. He waited with a sinking heart for Tigerstar to make a case for expanding his territory. The ShadowClan leader had paused and was gazing down at the assembled cats as if he had something particularly important to say.

“I have a request to make,” he began. “Many of you know that when I left ThunderClan, two kits of mine were in the nursery. They were too young then to travel, and I am grateful to ThunderClan for the care they have given them. But now it’s time for them to join me in the Clan where they rightfully belong. Bluestar, I ask that you give me Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw.”

Yowls of protest from ThunderClan warriors broke out before Tigerstar had finished speaking. Fireheart was too stunned to join in. He had been concerned all along that meeting with his kits at Gatherings would not be enough for Tigerstar, but he had never expected a public demand for the kits to be handed over to ShadowClan.

Bluestar drew herself up and waited for the noise to die away before she replied. “Certainly not,” she meowed. “These are ThunderClan kits. They are apprenticed now, and they will stay where they belong.”

“In ThunderClan?” Tigerstar challenged her. “I think not, Bluestar. The kits belong with me, and my warriors will take care of their apprentice training.”

By that argument, Fireheart thought, Graystripe’s kits should be returned to ThunderClan, although he guessed that Bluestar wouldn’t want to reopen that debate with RiverClan. He was relieved to see that Bluestar was not going to back down easily. “Your concern is natural, Tigerstar. But you can be sure that the kits will receive the best possible training in ThunderClan.”

“That’s right” Robinpaw yowled. Fireheart couldn’t help but wonder if she would be like this at every Gathering she attended while Tigerstar was leader. “Because last I remember, Tigerdung, you told your kits that their place was with their mother, and they had decided that they wanted nothing to do with you!”

“Be silent, Robinpaw,” Tigerstar ordered firmly. “If you continue to speak out like this, I shall have to remind the Gathering of Healer’s true name. Judging by the fact that she hasn’t come to the Clans since the time travelers arrived, it would seem clear that she wishes to keep her identity a secret.”

“How dare you threaten her!” Robinpaw hissed. She pawed at the ground in fury, but closed her mouth.

Tigerstar paused again, his gaze sweeping around the clearing, and when he spoke again it was not just to Bluestar but to the whole audience of cats. “The ThunderClan leader tells me how well my kits will be trained under her guidance — but ThunderClan have a poor record in looking after their young cats. One kit carried off by a hawk. One apprentice savaged to death and another permanently crippled when they were sent out alone without a warrior. Does any cat wonder that I’m concerned about the safety of my kits?”

Gasps of horror came from all around the clearing. Fireheart gaped up at the ShadowClan leader. How had Tigerstar learned about what had originally happened to Swiftpaw and Brightpaw? Few cats even in ThunderClan were aware of this, and none of them would have even considered traveling to ShadowClan, except. . .Ashfur! Fireheart thought, flexing his claws in anger. That treacherous warrior must have gone to Tigerstar in dreams as well and told him everything!

In his fury Fireheart almost missed Bluestar’s reply.

“You seem to have outdated information, Tigerstar,” Bluestar meowed calmly. “The kit you speak of not only survived the hawk, but he helped kill it, and the apprentices were made warriors moons ago. They certainly haven’t been sent out alone, or maimed and crippled.” She gazed at him steadily. “If you want to discredit me, or my Clan, I’d suggest you use accurate information.”

Fireheart cheered mentally and when he made himself concentrate Tigerstar was speaking again. “I don’t see what’s so difficult,” he meowed smoothly, ignoring her explanation. “After all, it won’t be the first time that ThunderClan has handed over kits to other Clans. Will it, Bluestar?”

Fear clenched in Fireheart’s belly. Tigerstar was referring obliquely to Mistyfoot and Stonefur. Graypool had told Tigerstar that they had been born in ThunderClan. Fireheart thanked StarClan that Tigerstar did not know the names of the kits or who their mother was. But what little he knew was more than the rest of ThunderClan.

Fireheart glanced sideways at Stonefur, sitting only a couple of tail-lengths away. The blue-gray tom had drawn himself up, his head erect, and he was staring up at the Great Rock. His gaze was not fixed on Tigerstar, Fireheart noticed, but on Bluestar, and the expression in his eyes was one of pure hatred.

Digging his claws into the ground, Fireheart waited for the ThunderClan leader’s response. He could see how shaken she was, and when she managed to reply every word seemed to catch in her throat like thorns. “The past is the past. We must judge each situation on its own merits. I will think carefully about what you say, Tigerstar, and give you my answer at the next Gathering.”

Fireheart doubted that Tigerstar would consent to wait for a whole moon, but to his surprise the ShadowClan leader dipped his head and stepped back a pace. “Very well,” he agreed. “One more moon — but no longer.”

*  *  *  *  *

"Who is Healer?" Scorchfur demanded as soon as they were in the shelter of the bushes. "I keep hearing her mentioned, but no cat will give me anything useful about her."

Minnowtail frowned. "Obviously, she's kind of medicine cat,” she pointed out. “Crookedstar sent a patrol to speak with her when Twolegs poisoned the river, but Mossyfoot and I weren’t allowed to be a part of it.”

Heathertail sighed. “I have an idea about who it might be.”

She didn’t continue at first, and the other cats glared at her. “Go on, spit it out,” Scorchfur prompted. “We don’t exactly have much time.”

“I think it might be Hollyleaf,” Heathertail whispered, so softly the others had to strain to hear her. “I thought I found some of her scent on our territory when I found Cloudtail and Ravenpaw’s.

“You’re not serious,” Minnowtail growled. “Hollyleaf died in our time, when a tunnel collapsed on her.”

Redwillow narrowed his eyes. “Actually, she might be right,” he growled. “After ShadowClan fought ThunderClan at the Thunderpath, I went back to investigate, and I scented Hollyleaf too.”

“You never told me!” Scorchfur accused.

Redwillow shrugged. “There wasn’t really a point. I thought I imagined it, and we’ve had bigger issues to deal with in ShadowClan.”

Excitement flooded Heathertail’s gaze. “What if Hollyleaf actually survived the collapse? ThunderClan never found a body, and she could have easily snuck around without being caught–those tunnels go everywhere. And it would make sense for her to become a medicine cat here…she trained with Leafpool for a while before she switched to being a warrior!”

“So what if she’s alive, and here with us?” Scorchfur grumbled. “She’s not our Clanmate, and she’s been hiding from everyone here too. The only ones who would really be all that excited about are in ThunderClan, and for some reason, none of them are here tonight.”

“It must be because of what happened to Ivypool in the fire,” Minnowtail guessed. “She was hurt really badly, and they might want to stay with her until she recovers.”

Redwillow groaned. “But how does that help us? We need to talk to them now, and we can’t just walk into ThunderClan territory, time travelers or not.”

“They might not believe us even if we went to them,” Heathertail sighed. “I mentioned scenting Hollyleaf to Lionblaze and Cinderheart at the last Gathering, and they told me I was imagining things.”

“Then the only way for them to believe us would be unequivocal proof?” Scorchfur’s voice rose as he spat out the words. “We don’t have time or reason for that. If Hollyleaf is here and she’s hiding, she’s hiding for a reason.”

Minnowtail nodded. “It would be better for us to leave things alone for now. Maybe we can search for her in a couple moons, once the Tigerstar and BloodClan situations are dealt with.”

“That’s it!” Heathertail realized. The others stared at her again. “What if she’s trying to stop, or at least weaken, BloodClan. The battle against them is one of the worst in Clan history. Cats in every Clan died. But if someone could get to them before Tigerstar, could figure out their weaknesses, they could make the battle so much better.”

“If Hollyleaf is really here to sneak around and stop BloodClan, then we have to leave her alone,” Scorchfur decided. “Who knows what damage we could do by going into Twolegplace with no information and no plan.”

Redwillow nodded. “For now, we stay in our Clans and work towards protecting as many cats as we can. How are things going in your Clans?”

“WindClan is preparing for battle,” Heathertail meowed. “Tallstar won’t let us be caught off guard this time.”

“RiverClan is going to weaken TigerClan from the inside,” Minnowtail said happily. “Silverstream told Leopardstar that Tigerstar was responsible for killing her, and Leopardstar told the rest of the Clan after Graystripe was banished. She’s looking forward to stopping her worst mistakes before she can even make them.”

Scorchfur nodded. “And ShadowClan isn’t as completely loyal to Tigerdung as he thinks. Stripestalk is slowly convincing cats to turn against him. After the battle with BloodClan, she’s going to step down as deputy and turn ShadowClan over to Blackfoot.”

“Good,” Heathertail growled. “Soon the fiery lion will lead ThunderClan, and things are going to start moving fast!”

Chapter Text

Fireheart padded wanly through Tallpines toward the Twolegplace. Heavy rain had fallen the night before, so that wet ash and burned debris clung to his paws. All his senses were alert, not for prey, but for any sign that the dark threat in the forest would emerge to attack his small group of cats.

Brightheart was following Fireheart now, with Cloudtail at her side, while Graystripe brought up the rear, watchful for anything that might come upon them from behind. They were on their way to visit Cloudtail’s mother, Princess. The young warrior had insisted on bringing Brightheart with them.

“You have to meet my mother sooner or later,” he had meowed. “We’re not going anywhere near Snakerocks. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Fireheart was amazed at how much Brightheart trusted Cloudtail..

When they came in sight of the fence at the end of the Twoleg gardens, Fireheart signaled with his tail for his companions to stop. He could not see Princess, but when he opened his mouth to taste the air, he caught her scent, along with the scent of another cat.

“Wait here,” he told the others. “Keep a lookout and call me if there’s trouble.”

Checking again to make sure there were no fresh scents of dogs or Twolegs, he raced across the stretch of open ground and leaped up to the top of Princess’s fence. A flash of white among the bushes in her garden alerted him, and a moment later his sister appeared, picking her way fastidiously across the wet grass. A small black tom with a single white paw and ice-blue eyes was watching her with amusement.

“Princess!” Fireheart called softly.

Princess halted and looked up. As soon as she saw Fireheart she bounded over to the fence and scrambled up to sit beside him. The tom followed.

“Fireheart!” she purred, pressing herself against him. “It’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Fireheart replied. “I’ve brought you some visitors — look.”

He pointed with his tail to where the other three cats were crouching on the edge of the trees.

“There’s Cloudpaw!” Princess exclaimed delightedly. “But who are the others?”

“That big gray tom is my friend Graystripe,” Fireheart told her. “You don’t need to worry — he’s much gentler than he looks. And the other cat is called Brightheart.”

“So she never received her injuries or that horrible name,” the small tom mused. “Interesting.”

“No, she didn’t,” Fireheart mewed grimly. “How did you know about it?”

Princess nodded in realization. “Oh, that’s right, you two haven’t met. Fireheart, this is our brother Scorch.”

With a start, Fireheart remembered how Hollyleaf had told him about his older brother moons ago when he’d gone to speak to Ravenpaw about Redtail’s death.

“Hollyleaf mentioned you,” he meowed at last. “She said you’d been hoping to meet me. I’m sorry we haven’t gotten the chance yet.”

“Things have been far too crazy for you to come looking for a brother you don’t know,” Scorch said understandingly. “But it is good to meet you at last.”

“And now you can meet some other cats,” Fireheart told him. He jumped down from the fence with Scorch, and after a moment’s hesitation Princess followed them and padded across to where the three cats waited.

Cloudtail ran out to meet his mother, leaving Graystripe with Brightheart, and touched noses with her.

“Cloudpaw, it’s ages since I’ve seen you,” Princess purred. “You’re looking wonderful, and haven’t you grown?”

“You’ve got to call me Cloudtail now,” her son announced. “I’m a warrior.”

Princess let out a little trill of joy. “A warrior already? Cloudtail, I’m so proud of you!”

While the tabby queen eagerly questioned her son about his life in the Clan, Fireheart did not forget that danger might be near. “We can’t stay long,” he meowed. “Princess, have you heard anything about a dog pack loose in the forest?”

Princess turned to him, her eyes wide and scared. “A dog? No, I don’t know anything about that.”

“I still think that might have been what the Twolegs were looking for that day Sandstorm and I met you in Tallpines,” Fireheart went on. “I don’t think you should come into the forest alone anymore, not for the time being, anyway. It’s too dangerous.”

“Then you’re in danger all the time,” mewed Princess. Her voice rose in distress. “Oh, Fireheart. . . !”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” Fireheart tried to sound confident. “Just stay in your garden. The dog pack won’t bother you there.”

“But I worry about you, Fireheart, and Cloudtail. You haven’t got a nest to go back to–”

Princess had just caught sight of Brightheart and couldn’t resist a mischievous purr. “Cloudtail, is this your mate?”

“Come and meet Brightheart,” Cloudtail meowed, giving his mother a hard stare. Fireheart could guess the underlying sentiment: Don’t embarrass me. 

Cheerfully Princess took the few paces that brought her to where Graystripe and Brightheart waited. Graystripe nodded to her in greeting, and Brightheart gazed up at her.

“Oh, my goodness, you’re beautiful” Princess blurted out, her paws working on the ground. “You look so much like some of my kits. Not so much like Cloudtail, of course, but some of the others.”

“Brightheart trained beside me,” Cloudtail answered. “She’s very brave and an excellent hunter.”

Scorch smiled. “I’ve heard stories about you, Brightheart. I’d like to make a suggestion, if that’s all right?”

She looked at him nervously. “What kind of suggestion?”

“Have you ever considered training to fight with one eye closed or covered?”

She froze. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it would be a specialized skill,” he explained. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it’s a good thing to learn.”

Calming down, Brightheart’s eyes grew thoughtful.

Scorch turned to Fireheart. “There’s a couple things I need to tell you. First, make sure Brightheart gets an apprentice before any of your grandkids are born.”

“I’m sorry?” Fireheart meowed. “I’m not leader; I can’t just decide that.”

Scorch ignored him. “Figure out a way,” he ordered. “The other thing I wanted was to warn you. There is a dangerous group of cats here in Twolegplace: BloodClan. In less than two moons, Tigerstar is going to bring them to the forest and all the Clans will be drawn into the battle.”

“Another battle with all four Clans?” Graystripe growled. “The last time that happened was in the WindClan camp!”

“It was,” Scorch agreed. “But I’m afraid this will be far worse than that. I cannot stop this battle, but I will fight beside you when the time comes.”

Fireheart dipped his head. “Thank you, brother.”

Scorch dipped his head in return. “It will be my honor to fight for the Clans and for my kin.”

“It’s time we were going,” Fireheart decided. “Cloudtail just wanted to introduce you to Brightheart. You’d better get back into your garden.”

“Yes — yes, I will.” Princess didn’t move, her eyes still fixed happily on Brightheart. “You’ll come and see me again, Fireheart?”

“As soon as I can,” he promised.

Princess finally stopped smiling like a kit and turned to press her muzzle to his before following Scorch back to the fence. “Goodbye!” she called, disappearing behind it.

*  *  *  *  *

Fireheart emerged from the warriors’ den and paused. He gazed across the clearing to where Sandstorm was crouched by the nettle patch, gulping down a piece of fresh-kill. He had chosen some of the warriors he wanted to come with him to Snakerocks, but so far he had not spoken to Sandstorm. He was reluctant to tell her what he was planning to do, knowing she would choose to go with him. He didn’t want risk her life on this dangerous mission, especially with the kits as a factor, and afraid that she would refuse not to come if it meant following his orders. Yet he still he knew that he could not imagine going without her.

Taking a deep breath, he padded over to the nettle patch and sat down beside her.

Sandstorm swallowed the last mouthful of squirrel. “Fireheart? What is it?”

Quietly Fireheart told her about his plan to investigate Snakerocks. “I wanted you to know what we’re planning,” he told her. “If something happens to me, you’ll have to watch over the kits on your own.”

The she-cat turned her green gaze on him, but Fireheart could not read the expression there. “Fireheart, you stupid furball, nothing is going to happen to you.”

“How do you know that,” he blurted out.

Sandstorm nodded slowly, as if waiting for him to figure something out. She was looking thoughtful, and a small seed of realization began to grow in Fireheart’s heart. “Nothing will happen to you, because I will be going there with you.”

“What? But you can’t! The kits— ”

“Will be fine on their own for a little while,” Sandstorm interrupted, reaching one paw toward him for silence. “You have responsibilities the rest of us can’t understand. But I have a responsibility to you.” Hesitating, staring down at her paws, she added, “If you’re going to do something stupid and dangerous, at least let me help you do it.”

Fireheart felt too full of emotion to answer. He stretched out his head to press against her flank. She looked up at him again, and he felt as if he were drowning in the depths of her green gaze. “Of course, Sandstorm,” he murmured. His voice barely more than a whisper, he added, “I love you.”

Sandstorm’s eyes glowed. “I love you too, Fireheart,” she whispered.

“What we’re about to do is more dangerous than you can imagine,” he warned her. “We could die.”

Sandstorm’s purr grew deeper, a vibration that filled her whole body. “Then I have to come, you stupid furball,” she mewed.

*  *  *  *  *

Fireheart set a double watch on the camp that night and kept vigil himself in the center of the clearing. A growing sense of horror crept over him as he listened to the wind sighing through the bare trees. It seemed to carry Spottedleaf, Mistflow, Softpaw, and Yellowfang’s voices to him, murmuring about the enemy that never slept: Tigerstar, the dogs — or both. The enemy was about to unleash its fury, and no cat was safe. The next day, Fireheart knew, could see the final destruction of his Clan.

As he watched the moon above him, barely waning from the full, Cinderpelt emerged from her den and padded across the clearing to sit beside him.

“If you’re leading a patrol tomorrow, you should get some sleep,” she advised. “You’ll need your strength.”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed. “But I don’t think I could sleep.” He raised his eyes to the moon again and the glittering stars of Silverpelt. “It looks so peaceful up there. But down here. . .”

“Yes,” murmured Cinderpelt. “Down here I can feel the evil growing. The forest is dark with it, and StarClan cannot help us. It’s up to us.”

“So you really don’t believe that StarClan has sent this pack to punish us?”

Cinderpelt met his gaze, her eyes shining with the reflected light of the moon. “No, Fireheart, I don’t.” She leaned toward him and let her muzzle brush lightly against the side of his face. “You’re not alone, Fireheart,” she promised. “I’m with you. And so is the rest of the Clan.”

Fireheart hoped she was right. The Clan would survive only if it united and faced this dark threat together. They had supported him in the battle that wasn’t fought against WindClan, but would they join him in facing the pack?

After a few moments Cinderpelt asked, “What will you tell Bluestar?”

“Nothing,” Fireheart replied. “Not until we’ve had a look around, at least. There’s no point right now. She’d just insist on coming with us.”

Cinderpelt murmured agreement. She kept watch with him in silence until the moon began to set. Then she meowed, “Fireheart, I’m telling you as your medicine cat that you need to rest. What happens tomorrow could determine the very future of this Clan, and we need all our warriors to be at full strength.”

Reluctantly Fireheart had to admit that she was right. Giving Cinderpelt’s ear a farewell lick, he got to his paws, padded off to the nursery, and curled himself into the moss beside Sandstorm and his kits. Squirrelkit nuzzled against him, and her dark ginger fur blended with his as she fell asleep against his side. But his sleep was broken, and his dreams were dark. Once he thought he saw StarClan warriors bounding toward him, and his heart lifted in joy, but before they reached him they turned into huge dogs with gaping jaws and eyes like flames. Fireheart woke, shuddering, to see that the first light of dawn was beginning to seep into the sky. This could be the last dawn I’ll ever see, he thought. Death waits for us out there.

Then as he raised his head he saw that Sandstorm was sitting beside him, watching over him and their kits while he slept. She was gently licking them as they suckled, purring contentedly. As he saw the love in her eyes he felt new strength flowing through his limbs. He sat up and gave the she-cat’s ear a gentle lick. “It’s time,” he meowed.

Bracing himself, he left the nursery and roused the cats he had chosen the evening before for his patrol to Snakerocks. Cloudtail almost leaped out of his nest, his tail lashing fiercely at the thought of confronting the creatures who would have injured Brightheart.

Brindleface, who had been sleeping close to the young warrior, awoke with him and followed him to the edge of the den. “May StarClan go with you,” she mewed, grooming the scraps of moss out of his fur.

Cloudtail pressed his muzzle against hers. “Don’t worry,” he assured his foster mother. “I’ll tell you all about it when I come back.”

Fireheart woke Whitestorm and then padded across the den to where Graystripe lay curled up in a pile of heather. Prodding him with one paw, he murmured, “Come on.”

Graystripe blinked and sat up. “This is just like the old days,” he mewed, in a vain attempt to sound cheerful. “You and me, charging into danger again.” He pushed his forehead against Fireheart’s shoulder. “Thanks for choosing me, Fireheart. I’m scared stiff, but I’ll prove that I’m loyal to ThunderClan, I promise.”

Fireheart pressed against him briefly and left the gray warrior to have a quick wash while he went to wake Longtail. The pale warrior shivered as he crawled out of his nest, but his eyes were determined. “I’ll show you that you can trust me,” he promised quietly.

Fireheart nodded. “I already trust you. The Clan needs you, Longtail,” he meowed. “Far more than Tigerstar and Darkstripe need you, believe me.”

Longtail brightened at that and followed Fireheart with the other warriors out to the nettle patch. They gulped down fresh-kill while Fireheart quickly reminded them of what the time travelers had told him. “We’re going to investigate,” he meowed. “We can’t decide how to get rid of these dogs until we know exactly what we have to face. We’re not going to attack them, not yet — have you got that, Cloudtail?”

Cloudtail’s blue eyes burned into his, and he did not reply.

“I won’t take you, Cloudtail, unless you promise to do as you’re told without question.”

“Oh, all right.” The tip of Cloudtail’s tail flicked irritably. “I want every last dog turned into crowfood, but I’ll do it your way, Fireheart.”

“Good.” Fireheart’s gaze swept over the rest of the patrol. “Any questions?”

“What if we come across Tigerstar?” asked Sandstorm.

“A cat from another Clan on our territory?” Fireheart bared his teeth. “Yes, you can attack him. ”

Cloudtail let out a growl of satisfaction.

Gulping down the last of his fresh-kill, Fireheart led the way out of the camp and up the ravine. Although the sun had nearly risen, clouds covered the sky, and shadows still lay thick among the trees. There was a strong smell of rabbit not far from the camp, but Fireheart ignored it. There was no time to hunt.

The warriors advanced warily in single file with Fireheart in the lead and Whitestorm keeping watch at the rear. After what he had learned from the time travelers, Fireheart felt even more strongly that the familiar forest had become full of danger, and his fur prickled with the expectation of attack.

All was quiet until they drew close to Snakerocks. Fireheart was just considering the best way to approach the caves when Graystripe mewed, “What’s that?”

He plunged into a clump of dead bracken. A moment later Fireheart heard his voice, strained and hoarse. “Come and look at this.”

Fireheart followed the sound and found Graystripe crouched over a dead rabbit. Its throat had been torn out, and its fur was stiff with dried blood.

“The pack have been killing again,” Longtail mewed grimly.

“Then why didn’t they eat the prey?” asked Sandstorm, coming up to sniff at the limp, gray-brown body. She sniffed again. “Fireheart, there’s ShadowClan scent here!”

Fireheart opened his jaws and drew the forest breeze over the glands in the roof of his mouth. Sandstorm was right. The scent was faint but unmistakable. “Tigerstar killed this rabbit,” he murmured, “and then left it here. What for, I wonder?”

He remembered how Longtail had reported seeing Tigerstar feeding the pack with rabbit, and the reek of rabbit that had followed them all the way from the ThunderClan camp. Backing away from the prey, he summoned Cloudtail with a flick of his tail. “Go back along the way we came,” he instructed. “You’re looking for dead rabbits. If you find any, check for other scents, and then come and tell me. Whitestorm, you go with him.”

He watched the two warriors retreat and then turned to Graystripe. “Stay here and guard this. Sandstorm, Longtail, come with me.”

Even more cautiously now, pausing to taste the air every few steps, Fireheart drew closer to Snakerocks. It wasn’t long before they discovered another dead rabbit lying exposed on a rock, with the same betraying scent of Tigerstar lingering around it. By this time they were in sight of the mouth of the cave. Fireheart could just make out the shape of yet another rabbit lying at the edge of the open space in front of it. There was no sign of the pack.

“Where are the dogs?” he muttered.

“In that cave,” replied Longtail. “That’s where I saw Tigerstar leave the rabbit yesterday.”

“When they come out, they’ll see the rabbit over there, and they’ll scent this one. . ..” Fireheart was thinking aloud. “And then there’s the one Graystripe found. . .” Understanding hit him like a rock and he could scarcely breathe for fear. “I know what Whitestorm and Cloudtail will find. Tigerstar has laid a trail straight back to the camp.”

Longtail crouched down on the forest floor and Sandstorm’s eyes stretched wide with honor. “You mean that he wants to bring the pack right to us?”

Pictures flashed through Fireheart’s mind of massive, slavering dogs racing down the sides of the ravine and breaking through the fern wall into the peaceful camp. He could see jaws snapping, limp feline bodies tossed high in the air, kits wailing as cruel teeth reached for them. ... He shuddered. “Yes. Come on; we have to break the trail!”

Not even an order from StarClan themselves could have made Fireheart try to retrieve the rabbit that was close to the cave mouth. But he snatched up the one that lay on the rock and bounded back to where he had left Graystripe. He set down his burden long enough to meow, “Bring that rabbit. We have to warn the Clan.”

Ears pricked in amazement, Graystripe obeyed. They headed back toward the camp, and before they had traveled more than a few fox-lengths Fireheart spotted Cloudtail and Whitestorm coming to meet them, slipping warily through the undergrowth.

“We’ve found two more rabbits,” Cloudtail reported. “Both stinking of Tigerstar.”

“Then go and fetch them.” Rapidly Fireheart explained what he suspected. “We’ll dump them in a stream somewhere and break the trail.”

“That’s all very well,” Whitestorm meowed. “You can shift the rabbits, but what about the scent?”

Fireheart froze. Fear was making him stupid, he realized. The rabbit scent and spilled blood would still lead the pack straight to the ThunderClan camp.

“We’ll move the rabbits anyway,” he decided swiftly. “That might slow the dogs up. But we’ve got to get back and warn the Clan. They’ll have to leave the camp.”

Racing through the forest, ears pricked for the sound of the pack behind them, they headed for the camp. Soon they had more rabbits than they could carry. Tigerstar must have hunted all night to catch this many, Fireheart thought grimly.

"Let's leave them all here,” Sandstorm suggested when they were still some way from the ravine. Her flanks heaved as she gasped for breath, and she had torn a claw, but her eyes glittered with determination, and Fireheart knew that she would run forever if he asked her to. “If the dogs find a good meal, they’ll stop to eat it.”

“Good idea,” Fireheart meowed.

“It might have been better to leave them closer to the cave,” Whitestorm pointed out, his eyes dark with worry. “That might have stopped the dogs’ coming to the camp at all.”

“True,” Fireheart replied, “but there isn’t time. The dogs could be on their way already. We don’t want to meet them.”

Whitestorm nodded agreement. They left the heap of rabbits in full view on the trail and sprinted on. Fireheart felt his heart pounding wildly. He should have known his old enemy would be connected with the dark force that threatened the forest. Only StarClan knew how Tigerstar had found out that the dogs were at Snakerocks, but he was using them to destroy the Clan he hated. As he dashed through the trees, Fireheart was afraid that it might be too late to stop him.

At the top of the ravine, he paused. “Spread out,” he ordered his warriors. “Make sure there’s no fresh-kill close to the camp.”

They headed down the ravine, ranging from side to side. Cloudtail drew ahead, and not far from the entrance Fireheart saw him stop dead. He was staring at something ahead of him.

Then they heard screeches of fury.

“No. No!” Cloudtail yowled. He charged forward and Fireheart followed him. He caught up just in time to see something that made every hair on his pelt prick in fury.

Tigerstar had never left ThunderClan. In fact, he was right there, fighting Brindleface and Robinpaw. Brindleface faced him head on, slashing at his face, while Robinpaw clung to Tigerstar’s back like a burr. She raked her claws across his shoulders and blood sprayed from the wounds she inflicted.

Yowling in pain and fury, Tigerstar tried to shake her off, but her grip was too tight, and he couldn’t risk dropping onto his back to crush her because that would leave his belly exposed.

“Mangepelt!” Robinpaw yowled. “I’ve been waiting to do this for moons! Darkstripe isn’t here to stop me this time!”

The two she-cats didn’t look like they needed help, but Fireheart didn’t want them to waste their energy on this fight. “Come on,” he hissed to Cloudtail.

They ran forward, and Tigerstar went rigid as he saw them. Even he couldn’t fight four cats at once, nine lives or not. He swung a paw at Brindleface, forcing her to jump backwards to dodge it. Then he bunched his muscles and pelted away.

Robinpaw didn’t let go at first, and Brindleface frowned. “Robinpaw, let him go! We don’t have time to chase him.”

The apprentice let herself drop from Tigerstar’s back and sauntered back with a pleased expression on her face. “That was fun.”

Chapter Text

Cloudtail and Sandstorm helped Brindleface back to the camp, but there was no time for celebration. Apparently she had gone out hunting with Robinpaw very early, and the other cats had only just noticed that she was taking a long time to return. Cinderpelt and Jayfeather treated her injuries, while Fireheart summoned the Clan together.

They returned as Fireheart stood at the foot of the Highrock waiting for the rest of the cats to gather. Cloudtail paced back and forth, his tail lashing fiercely.

“I’ll flay Tigerstar!” he vowed. “I’ll scatter his entrails from here to Highstones. He’s mine, Fireheart, and don’t you forget it. No one tries to kill my family!”

“And don’t you forget that you’re under my orders,” Fireheart told him. “Right now we have to deal with the dog pack. We’ll worry about Tigerstar later.”

Cloudtail bared his teeth with a hiss of frustration, but did not argue.

Meanwhile the rest of the Clan were huddling in a shocked and silent crowd around Fireheart. Cinderpelt appeared from the Bluestar’s den and limped rapidly across to him.

“Bluestar’s asleep,” she meowed. “Better to tell her about this when we’ve worked out a plan, don’t you think?”

Fireheart nodded, wondering how his leader would react when she found out that all her fears about Tigerstar were true. Would she swear vengeance on him for going after one of her Clanmates? Pushing his fear aside, Fireheart turned to address the Clan. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began. “This morning we discovered that there’s a trail led for the pack of dogs on our territory, beginning from Snakerocks.”

Murmuring broke out among the assembled cats, along with a few yowls of defiance. Fireheart guessed that they scarcely believed him, but there was worse news to come. He couldn’t help staring at Darkstripe, but the dark warrior’s expression was unreadable, and Fireheart had no idea how much he already knew.

“Tigerstar has been feeding the dogs,” he went on, struggling to keep his voice calm, “and he has laid a trail of dead rabbits to lead them right into our camp. You all know what was meant to lie at the end of that trail.” He dipped his head toward the place where Brindleface was sitting with an angry expression on her face.

He had to signal with his tail for silence as a chorus of angry wailing broke out. He couldn’t help noticing Goldenflower crouched with her head down as she listened to what Tigerstar had done, and he looked instinctively for the two newest apprentices. Tawnypaw was staring at him with horror in her face, but Bramblepaw’s face was hidden. Fireheart guessed he was equally shocked, but he didn’t want to show his emotions right now. The other apprentices quickly clustered around them comfortingly.

When he could make himself heard again, Fireheart went on: “We have tried to break the trail, but the rabbits have lain there all night, and the pack will follow the scent they left behind. We must all leave — elders, kits, everyone. If the dogs come to the camp they must not find us here.”

More sounds of dismay, this time a low, anxious murmuring. Dappletail, an aged, once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat, called out, “Where shall we go?”

“To Sunningrocks,” Fireheart replied. “Once you’re there, climb the tallest trees you can find. If the dogs follow you, they’ll think they lost the scent on the rocks, and they won’t look for you.”

To his relief, the Clan grew quieter now that he had given them definite orders. Her kits, the apprentices Fernpaw and Ashpaw, and the young warrior Tulipleaf, were pressed close together with looks of stunned horror on their faces. Fireheart thanked StarClan that the day, although gray and chilly, was dry, but they still had to figure out how to move Ivypool and help his very young kits to make the journey.

“And what about the pack?” Dustpelt asked. “What are we going to do about them?”

Fireheart hesitated. He knew the pack was too strong for his warriors to attack directly. Tigerstar would never have led them to the camp unless he had been certain of that. StarClan help me, he prayed silently. As though his warrior ancestors had heard him, an idea flashed into his mind. “That’s it!” he whispered. “We’ll steal the trail.” As the cats close by stared at him, he repeated more loudly, “We’ll steal the trail!”

“What do you mean?” Sandstorm asked, her green eyes wide.

“Just what I say. Tigerstar wants to lead the dogs right to our camp. Fine. We’ll let him do that. And when they arrive, we’ll be waiting — to take them to the gorge.”

Not far from Fourtrees, on the far side of ThunderClan’s territory, the river foamed between sheer-sided cliffs. The current was fast and strong, and there were sharp rocks concealed just under the surface. If cats had drowned there, why not dogs?

“We’ll need to lure the dogs over the edge,” Fireheart went on, the details of the plan taking shape in his mind as he spoke. “I’ll need warriors who can run fast.” His dark green gaze swept the cats around him. “Graystripe. Runningwind. Mousefur and Longtail. Dustpelt. And I’m going myself. That should be enough. The rest of you gather by the camp entrance, ready to move out.”

As the cats he had not named began to obey his orders, Fireheart saw Fernpaw and Ashpaw pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

“Fireheart, we want to help,” Fernpaw begged, fixing her shocked, pleading eyes on Fireheart.

“I said warriors,” Fireheart reminded her gently.

“But Brindleface is our mother,” protested Ashpaw. “Please, Fireheart. We want to do it for her. If Tigerstar wants to hurt our family, then we’ll show him we’re not so easy to kill.”

“Yes, take them with you,” Whitestorm put in, his voice grave. “Their anger will make them fearless.”

Fireheart hesitated, then saw the intensity in the white warrior’s eyes and nodded. “All right.”

“And what about me? ” Cloudtail demanded, his tail beginning to lash again.

“And me?” Tulipleaf added with a growl.

“Listen, Cloudtail, Tulipleaf,” Fireheart meowed. “I can’t take all my best warriors to lure the dogs. Some of you have to look after the rest of the Clan.” Cloudtail opened his mouth to argue, but Fireheart went on quickly: “I’m not giving you an easy job. If we fail, you’re likely to find yourself fighting the dogs — and maybe ShadowClan as well.” Tulipleaf nodded in acceptance. “Think, Cloudtail,” he urged as the warrior still looked unconvinced. “What better revenge could you take on Tigerstar than to make sure that his plans fail and that ThunderClan survives?”

Cloudtail was silent for a moment, his face twisted in grief and anger.

“The Clan needs you now more than ever,” Fireheart meowed quietly. “Be there for them.”

The young warrior straightened up at the mention of his Clan’s need. “Right, Fireheart.” Cloudtail sounded utterly determined. “I’m on my way.”

“Thank you,” Fireheart called after him as he raced across the clearing to Brightheart’s side. “I trust you, Cloudtail.”

As he watched the assembling cats, a movement beyond them caught his eye. Darkstripe was slinking through a gap in the thorn hedge, closely followed by Bramblepaw, Tawnypaw, Hollypaw, and Honeypaw.

Fireheart shot after them and managed to catch up with them as they pushed their way through the thorns. “Darkstripe!” he snapped. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The dark warrior turned. There was a flicker of alarm in his eyes, though he faced Fireheart boldly. “I don’t think Sunningrocks is safe,” he meowed. “I was taking these two to a better place. They — ”

“What better place?” Fireheart challenged him. “If you know one, why don’t you share it with the rest of the Clan? Unless you mean you’re taking them to Tigerstar?” A surge of fury made him long to spring at Darkstripe and claw him, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Of course, the ShadowClan leader wouldn’t want his kits to be eaten by the dog pack,” he realized out loud. “You’re taking them to him before the dogs get here, aren’t you? I suppose you arranged all this at the last Gathering!”

Darkstripe did not reply. His expression darkened, and he would not meet Fireheart’s eyes.

“Darkstripe, you disgust me,” Fireheart hissed. “You knew Tigerstar meant to bring the dog pack down on us — and you never said a word to any cat! Have you no loyalty to your Clan?”

“I didn’t know!” Darkstripe protested, his head swinging up. “Tigerstar told me to bring his kits to him, but he never told me why. I never knew about the pack; I swear it by StarClan!”

Fireheart wondered how much worth an oath by StarClan could possibly have in this treacherous warrior’s mouth. He swung around to face the four apprentices, who were staring at him, their eyes wide and scared. “What did Darkstripe say to you?”

“N-nothing, Fireheart,” stammered Tawnypaw.

“Only to go with him,” her brother added. “He said he knew a good place to hide.”

“And you obeyed him?” Fireheart’s voice was serious. “He’s not Clan leader or any of your mentors.” Then he turned to Hollypaw and Honeypaw. “And why did you go with him? I doubt he intended for you to come along.”

Darkstripe growled in annoyance. “No, I didn’t. They just chose to follow their friends.”

Fireheart glared at them. “And why did you feel this was something you needed to do?”

“Lionblaze and Cinderheart warned us about Dirtstripe and Tigerdung,” Honeypaw meowed cheerfully. “A lot.”

“So when we saw Dirtstripe was taking our friends to ShadowClan, we decided to go with them,” Hollypaw piped.

“Why…?” Fireheart groaned, confident he wouldn’t like the answer.

Hollypaw grinned. “Oh, we wanted to kill him!” she said immediately.

Fireheart glared at her again. “Absolutely not! This is not the time for foolish murder attempts on the leaders of other Clans. Follow me!”

Whipping around, he led the way across the clearing to where the Clan was gathering near the camp entrance. He was half-surprised to see that Darkstripe followed him, as well as the apprentices. Sooner or later, Fireheart knew, he would have to have a reckoning with the dark warrior, but there was no time now.

As he reached the other cats, he summoned Brackenfur with a flick of his tail. “Brackenfur,” he meowed, “I’m making you responsible for these Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw. Don’t take your eyes off them, whatever happens. And if Darkstripe so much as sniffs at them, I want to know about it.”

“Yes, Fireheart,” Brackenfur mewed, looking bewildered. Nudging the two apprentices, he herded them away, among the other cats.

Seeing Whitestorm close by, Fireheart padded over to him and jerked his head at Darkstripe. “Keep an eye on that one,” he ordered. “I don’t trust a single hair on his pelt.”

Dovewing, Lionblaze, and Cinderheart were nearby. Ivypool was draped over Lionblaze’s back, with the other two warriors helping to keep her steady. Dovewing frowned at Hollypaw and Honeypaw, and Fireheart realized that she’d seen everything that had happened.

Fireheart beckoned to Swiftblade and Lightfrost. “I want you to keep an eye one these two. They decided it would be a good idea to launch an assassination attempt on Tigerstar.”

Eyes wide with shock, both young warriors nodded. “You can count on us, Fireheart,” Lightfrost promised.

Then Fireheart addressed the warriors he had chosen to run ahead of the pack. “If you haven’t eaten today, I suggest you eat now,” he meowed. “You’ll need all your strength. We’ll go soon, but first I have to talk to Bluestar.”

As Fireheart turned toward Bluestar’s den, he realized that Cinderpelt was beside him. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked.

Fireheart shook his head. “No. Go and help the others get ready to leave. Do what you can to keep them calm.”

“Don’t worry, Fireheart,” the medicine cat assured him. “I’ll take a few basic remedies with me, just in case.”

“Good idea,” Fireheart meowed. “Get Thornclaw to help you. You can leave as soon as Bluestar is ready to join you.”

When he looked into Bluestar’s den, his leader was awake and grooming her fur. “Yes, Fireheart? What is it?”

Fireheart padded into the den and dipped his head. “Bluestar, we know what the pack is going to do,” he began carefully.

Bluestar sat upright and watched Fireheart with unwavering blue eyes as he told her what he and his patrol had seen that morning. As he went on, her face grew blank with horror.

“So Brindleface was nearly killed,” she murmured when Fireheart had finished. Determinedly she added, “None of the Clan will lose their lives today. Tigerstar may have tried to destroy us. But he will fail.”

“He’ll fail, Bluestar, because we’re not giving in,” Fireheart insisted, trying not to be panicked. “You must lead the Clan to Sunningrocks.”

Bluestar’s ears flicked. “Why Sunningrocks? We can’t survive there for long.”

“If my plan works, you won’t be there for long. Listen.” Fireheart told her how he was hoping to lure the dogs through the forest and drown them in the gorge.

His leader’s gaze grew vague, fixed on something Fireheart could not see. “So you want me to go to Sunningrocks like an elder,” she meowed.

Fireheart hesitated. Telling Bluestar what she should do was a lot harder than giving orders to Cloudtail. “Like a leader,” he told her. “Without you there, the Clan will panic and scatter. They need you to hold them together. Besides,” he added, “don’t forget that this is your last life. If you lost it, what would the Clan do without you?”

Bluestar hesitated. “Very well.”

“Then we should go now.”

Bluestar nodded and led the way out of the den. The bulk of the Clan — all the cats Fireheart had not chosen to come with him — were already huddled together near the entrance to the camp. As Bluestar went to join them, Fireheart flicked his tail to call Whitestorm. “Stay beside her,” he mewed softly. “Look after her.”

Whitestorm dipped his head. “You can rely on me, Fireheart.” The glance he exchanged with Fireheart showed that he understood perfectly how fragile Bluestar’s mind was. He padded at Bluestar’s shoulder as she led the way out of the camp.

Seeing the white warrior, old but still vigorous, beside her, Fireheart was struck all over again by how strong his leader looked. But her presence among them would reassure the other cats, especially the elders.

When the last of the Clan had filed out into the ravine, Fireheart turned to the warriors who remained, crouched beside the burned stalks of the nettle patch. Graystripe and Sandstorm met his gaze, their eyes filled with resolution and fear in equal measure. Fireheart was reminded of the last time he had evacuated the camp, when the fire came, and how three cats had never returned.

But he knew thoughts like that would only push him into panic. He had to be strong for the sake of his Clan. Padding over to his warriors, he meowed, “Are you ready? Then let’s go.”

When Fireheart reached the top of the ravine he halted and turned to Fernpaw and Ashpaw. “You two wait here,” he ordered. “As soon as you see the dogs, run straight for the gorge. Runningwind will be next in line. When you see her, climb a tree, and then when the dogs have picked up her trail and gone, head for Sunningrocks.”

He looked down at the two apprentices. Their eyes gleamed with fury, grief for their mother momentarily forgotten in their desire to avenge her attack. Fireheart hoped they would remember their instructions and not panic, or even worse, try to attack the dogs by themselves. “The Clan’s relying on you,” he added. “And we’re all proud of you.”

“We won’t let you down,” Fernpaw promised.

Fireheart left them there and led the others farther into the forest. His ears were pricked for sounds of the dogs, but for now the forest seemed to be waiting under a suffocating silence, as sinister as any howling or crashing of undergrowth. The sound of the cats’ breathing and their soft pawsteps seemed unnaturally loud as they padded under the trees.

Soon Fireheart halted again. “Runningwind, you wait here,” he meowed. “I don’t want those two apprentices to have to run too far. You’re the fastest cat in ThunderClan — you’ll need to get a good start on the dogs to give the rest of us a chance. Okay?”

Runningwind nodded. “You can trust me, Fireheart.”

Tearing himself away, he took the rest of his warriors along a line stretching all the way to the gorge, leaving each of them at regular intervals as he went: next Longtail, then Dustpelt, and then Mousefur. At last he and Graystripe were left alone on the border with RiverClan, as near as they could get to the gorge without leaving their own territory. “Right, Graystripe,” he meowed, halting. “You hide here. If all goes well, Mousefur will lead the dogs to you. When they come, head for the steepest part of the gorge. I’ll be ahead of you, waiting to take over for the final stretch.”

“That will be on RiverClan territory.” Graystripe sounded dubious. “What’s Leopardstar going to think about that?”

“With any luck, Leopardstar won’t have to know anything about it,” Fireheart replied, remembering how the RiverClan leader had threatened Graystripe with death if he set paw in her territory again. “We can’t worry about that now. Stay hidden on our side of the border, and if you see a patrol, don’t let them know you’re here.”

Graystripe nodded and flattened his belly to the ground to crawl underneath the branches of a thornbush. “Good luck,” he meowed as he disappeared.

Fireheart wished him luck in return and went on, more warily now, into RiverClan territory. He saw no RiverClan cats but he scented some fairly fresh traces, which suggested that the dawn patrol had already passed that way. At last he found a place to hide in a hollow at the foot of a rock and settled down to wait.

The whole forest was silent, except for the distant roar of water in the gorge.

Fireheart couldn’t help wondering where Tigerstar was now. Safe in ShadowClan territory, he guessed, waiting for his old Clan to be torn apart. Then he could swoop in like a carrion crow and take the ThunderClan territory for his own, gloating over his perfect revenge.

Clouds still covered the sky, so Fireheart had no way to judge the passing of time, but as each heartbeat followed the last he began to worry that something had gone wrong. Why was it taking so long? Had the dogs caught one of his warriors? Fireheart pictured Graystripe or the apprentices being ripped apart by those cruel jaws and worked his paws on the hard earth in front of him, extending and sheathing his claws. He had to force himself not to go back and see what had happened.

What if this was all a huge mistake? he asked himself. Had he led his Clan into even greater danger?

Then, above the noise of the river, he heard a distant barking. Rapidly it grew closer. The dark force had gained a voice at last, giving tongue as the pack bore down on the cats who had become their prey. The sound grew louder still, until it seemed to fill all the forest, and Graystripe appeared, streaking along with his belly almost flat against the ground.

Barely three fox-lengths behind him was the pack leader. Fireheart had never seen a dog like it. It was enormous, easily twice the size of any Twoleg pet. As it ran, its muscles bunched powerfully under a short black-and-brown pelt. Its jaws gaped to show a vicious set of teeth, and its tongue lolled. It barked hoarsely as it snapped at the fleeing Graystripe.

“StarClan help me!” Fireheart whispered, and sprang out of his hiding place.

He just had time to see Graystripe hurtling toward the nearest tree; then all he could do was run. The barking seemed to redouble, and he could feel the hot breath of the pack leader against his hind paws.

For the first time Fireheart wondered what he would do when he came to the gorge. He had imagined slipping aside at the last moment to let the unsuspecting dogs dash straight over the edge. Now he realized that might not work; the dogs were much, much closer than he had imagined.

Perhaps he would have to leap over himself.

If that’s what it takes to save the Clan, then that’s what I will do, Fireheart vowed grimly.

The gorge was close by. Fireheart emerged from the trees to see nothing but smooth turf between him and the edge of the cliff. Casting a hasty glance over his shoulder, he saw that he was outrunning the dogs, and he slackened his pace a little to let them catch up. The pack streamed out of the trees behind their leader, their tongues lolling as they barked.

“Pack, pack! Kill, kill!” The words slashed at Fireheart like teeth.

Then from his other side something heavy flew over his head and landed hard on the ground. Fireheart looked over in shock.

It was Tigerstar.

*  *  *  *  *

If there was one moment in ThunderClan’s history that Jayfeather had never wanted to be a part of, it was this terrified flight to Sunningrocks, while a dog pack followed the path of rabbits to the camp that Tigerdung had left them. 

He knew for a fact that ThunderClan would have had an easier time evacuating in the original timeline. Back then, they didn’t have to worry about transporting a comatose warrior or three newborn kits. And while Sandstorm, Cloudtail, and Brightheart were easily carrying Squirrelkit, Leafkit, and Yellowkit, the time travelers were having a much harder time managing Ivypool.

That was why he breathed an overly excessive sigh of relief when they finally reached the sunlit stones, and Cinderheart helped Lionblaze slide Ivypool to the ground.

Jayfeather heard Lionblaze stretch, taking a deep breath to scent the air.

“No dogs here,” he reported calmly.

“Thank StarClan!” Whitestorm meowed. “Is every cat here?”

Murmurs of assent sounded from the cats. Willowpelt’s kits happily called out their names, while Honeypaw and Hollypaw meowed something about wanting to kill Tigerstar. Lightfrost promptly hushed them.

Then Smallear hissed, “Where’s Bluestar? Isn’t she supposed to be with us?”

Whitestorm stiffened, and Jayfeather could feel the worry coming off him in waves. “Has any cat seen her?”

“I know where she is.” The voice of a tom caused everyone to fall silent. Confusion and fear emanated from them, and suddenly Jayfeather could see.

The cat was a very familiar scrawny, sleek, ginger-and-white patched tom with green eyes, and Jayfeather recognized him immediately.

“Fallen Leaves,” he rasped.

“Hello, Jay’s Wing.” Fallen Leaves greeted him by his ancient name.

Jayfeather frowned. “What are you doing here? How did you escape the tunnels?

Fallen Leaves shook his head. “There isn’t time to explain. I need you and Lionblaze to come with me.”

“Why?” Lionblaze demanded. “We don’t even know you. How can we trust you not to lead us into a trap?”

“The last time I led you somewhere, you escaped the tunnels and saved a trio of kits,” Fallen Leaves told him. “Jay’s Wing knows this.”

Lionblaze shot a look at Jayfeather, and he nodded. “What’s so important right now?” Lionblaze growled. “In case you haven’t noticed, the forest isn’t safe for us to be running around.”

“I know,” Fallen Leaves agreed. “But there’s something you need to see.” 

*  *  *  *  *

Fireheart stared at Tigerstar. The dark tabby growled and lashed out at him, but another cat grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him backwards. Tigerstar struggled desperately to get free, lashing out with his hind paws, but he couldn’t reach either cat. The reek of his scent was in Fireheart’s mouth and nostrils, and his amber eyes glared into Fireheart’s own.

“Leave him alone, fox-heart!” Hollyleaf snarled through her clamped teeth. She swung her head hurled him away from Fireheart.

Tigerstar’s eyes gleamed. “Greet StarClan for me,” he snarled.

“Only after you!” Fireheart gasped, confused.

To his astonishment, Tigerstar doubled back and sprang up the nearest tree, followed by Hollyleaf. Before he had time to wonder what was going on, he heard a deafening howl and felt the ground shake under his paws. He spun around to see the pack leader looming over him, its dripping jaws wide. There was no time to run. Fireheart shut his eyes and prepared to meet StarClan.

Pain stabbed him as sharp teeth met in his scruff. His limbs flailed helplessly as the dog lifted him from the ground and shook him from side to side. He twisted in the air, struggling to claw eyes, jowls, tongue, but his thrashing paws met nothing. The forest spun about him. He was aware of more barking, and the stink of dog was everywhere.

“StarClan, help me!” Fireheart let out a yowl of terror and despair. This was not just his death, but the end of his whole Clan. His plan had failed. “StarClan, where are you?”

Suddenly a yowl sounded close by. Fireheart was flung to the ground, the breath driven out of his body. The grip on his neck loosened and was gone. Dazed, he looked up to see a blue-gray shape ramming into the side of the lead dog.

“Bluestar!” he yowled.

The force of his leader’s impact had sent the dog staggering to the very edge of the gorge. Its barking changed to a high-pitched howl of terror as its huge paws scrabbled for a grip on the turf. The loose soil crumbled away under its weight and it fell, but as it disappeared over the edge its snapping jaws closed on Bluestar’ s leg, and wrenched her over as well.

Two of the other dogs, hard behind their leader, could not pull up in time. Blindly they charged over the edge of the gorge and vanished, howling, while the remaining dogs skidded to a halt, their fierce barks fading to piteous whimpers. Before Fireheart could force himself to his paws, they had backed away from the edge and fled into the forest.

Fireheart staggered to the edge of the gorge and looked over. Water foamed white beneath him. For a heartbeat he glimpsed the gaping muzzle of the pack leader struggling among the waves, before it vanished again.

“Bluestar!” Fireheart screamed. What had his leader been doing over here? He had sent her with the rest of the Clan to Sunningrocks.

Too stunned to move, Fireheart gazed down into the river. Suddenly he saw a small gray head bob to the surface, paws thrashing wildly. Bluestar was still alive! But the torrent was sweeping her downstream, and Fireheart knew that she was too frail to swim for long.

There was only one thing to do. Yowling, “Bluestar, hold on! I’m coming!” he launched himself down the steep side of the gorge and into the river.

Water clutched Fireheart like a huge paw and buffeted him from side to side. The icy cold of the torrent took his breath away. His paws worked furiously as he tried to swim, but the force of the current rolled him under. He had lost sight of Bluestar before he even entered the water; he could see nothing but the foam that bubbled all around him.

As his head broke surface he gasped for air, managing to stay afloat as the racing torrent swept him downstream. Then he spotted Bluestar again, a few fox-lengths ahead of him, her fur plastered to her head and her jaws gaping. Kicking out strongly, Fireheart closed the gap between them, and as Bluestar began to sink again he fastened his teeth in her scruff.

The extra weight dragged him down. All Fireheart’s instincts screamed at him to let Bluestar go and save his own life. But he made himself hold on, while he forced his limbs to go on working and bring his drowning leader back to the surface. He almost lost his grip on her as something slammed into them, and he caught a glimpse of a dog rolling over in the current, its eyes glazed with terror as it floundered helplessly and vanished again.

A sudden shadow fell across them and was gone as the current carried them under the Twoleg bridge and away from the looming cliffs. Fireheart could see the river bank now and he struck out toward it, but his limbs were aching with weariness. Bluestar was a deadweight, unable to help herself. Fireheart knew that he could not let go of her to gulp in more air, and his senses began to spin away into darkness as his head went under again.

Barely conscious, he made one more massive effort, thrusting at the water with his paws. But when he resurfaced he could not see the bank, and he had lost all sense of direction. His limbs stiffened with panic as he knew he was going to drown.

Suddenly Bluestar’s weight grew less. Blinking water out of his eyes, Fireheart saw another head bobbing in the water beside him, teeth firmly gripping Bluestar’s fur. He recognized the blue-gray pelt and almost forgot to swim in his shock.

It was Mistyfoot!

At the same moment he heard Stonefur’s voice from his other side. “Let go. We’ve got her now.”

“We’ll help her,” Mosslight promised.

Fireheart did as he was told and let Stonefur take his place. The three RiverClan cats propelled Bluestar through the water toward the bank. Without the need to support the heavy she-cat, Fireheart managed to flounder after them until he felt the river bottom beneath his paws. On flatter ground now, carried by the river out of the steep-sided gorge, he was able to splash his way to the safety of the bank on the RiverClan side.

Coughing as he gasped air into his straining lungs, Fireheart shook water from his fur and looked around to see what had become of Bluestar. Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur had laid the Clan leader down on her side on the pebbles. Water trickled from her parted jaws, and she did not move.

“Bluestar!” Mistyfoot exclaimed.

“Is she dead?” Fireheart asked hoarsely, staggering up to them.

“I think she—”

Stonefur was interrupted by a loud yowling. “Fireheart! Fireheart! Watch out!”

It was Graystripe’s voice. Fireheart turned to see Tigerstar racing across the Twoleg bridge with Hollyleaf and the gray warrior hard behind him. As the ShadowClan leader swerved along the bank toward Fireheart and the others, Graystripe darted in front of the massive tabby and whirled around to face him. Hollyleaf glared challengingly from the other side.

“Keep back!” Graystripe snarled. “Don’t touch them.”

Rage lent strength to Fireheart. His leader lay on the riverbank, her last life ebbing away; whatever she had said or done, she was still his leader, and he had never intended her to die for the sake of the Clan. And all this was because of Tigerstar!

He bounded upstream to stand beside Graystripe and Hollyleaf, and the ShadowClan leader halted a couple of fox-lengths away. Clearly he was thinking twice about taking all three of them on at the same time.

From behind him Fireheart heard Mistyfoot gasp. “Fireheart! She’s alive!”

He bared his teeth at Tigerstar. “Come one step closer, and I’ll throw you in the river with the dogs,” he growled. “Graystripe, Hollyleaf, make him stay back.”

Graystripe nodded, unsheathing his claws, and Tigerstar let out a long hiss of fury and frustration. Hollyleaf stared at him, unflinching.

Fireheart raced back to Bluestar and crouched down beside her. She still lay on the pebbles, though now Fireheart could see her chest rising and falling with each jagged breath. “Bluestar?” he whispered. “Bluestar, it’s Fireheart. You’re all right now. You’re safe.”

Her eyes blinked open and focused on the three RiverClan warriors. For a heartbeat she did not seem to recognize them, and then her eyes stretched wide, softening with pride. “You saved me,” she murmured.

“Shhh. Don’t try to talk,” Mistyfoot urged her.

Bluestar seemed not to hear. “I want to tell you something. ... I want to ask you to forgive me for sending you away. Oakheart promised me Graypool would be a good mother to you.”

“She was,” Stonefur meowed tersely.

Fireheart tensed. Last time they spoke to Bluestar, the two RiverClan warriors had spat venom at her, hating her for what she had done. Would they turn on her now, defenseless as she was?

“I owe Graypool so much,” Bluestar went on. Her voice was faint and uneven. “Oakheart too, for mentoring you so well. I watched you as you grew up, and I saw how much you had to give to the Clan who adopted you.” A shudder passed through her body, and she stopped speaking for a moment. “If I had made a different choice, you would have given all your strength to ThunderClan. Forgive me,” she rasped.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Mosslight meowed, resting her muzzle on Bluestar’s head. “You made so many sacrifices to protect all the Clans. I understand.”

Mistyfoot and Stonefur exchanged an uncertain glance.

“She suffered a lot of pain for her choice,” Fireheart couldn’t help putting in. “Please forgive her.”

For a heartbeat the two warriors still hesitated. Then Mistyfoot bent her head to lick her mother’s fur, and Fireheart felt his legs shake with relief. “We forgive you, Bluestar,” she murmured.

“We forgive you,” Stonefur echoed.

Weak as she was, Bluestar began to purr with delight. Fireheart’ s throat felt tight as he watched the RiverClan cats crouched over his leader — their mother — sharing tongues with her for the first time.

A furious hiss from Graystripe made him turn his head to see that Tigerstar had taken a step forward.

The massive tabby’s eyes were wide with astonishment. Fireheart knew that until now Tigerstar had not known who was the mother of the kits that ThunderClan had given away.

“Don’t come any nearer, Tigerstar,” he hissed. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Turning back to Bluestar, he saw that her eyes were closing and her breath was coming fast and shallow.

“What can we do?” he asked Mistyfoot anxiously. “This is her last life, and she’ll never make it back to the ThunderClan camp. Will one of you go and fetch your medicine cat?”

Mosslight turned toward Hollyleaf. “Healer, is there anything you can do?”

The black she-cat shook her head sadly.

“It’s too late for that, Fireheart.” It was Stonefur who replied, his voice low and gentle. “She is on her way to StarClan.”

“No!” Fireheart protested. He crouched beside Bluestar and pressed his muzzle against hers. “Bluestar — Bluestar, wake up! We’ll get help for you — hold on just a bit longer.”

Bluestar’s eyes flickered open again, looking not at Fireheart, but at something just past his shoulder. Her gaze was clear and filled with peace. “Oakheart,” she murmured. “Have you come for me? I’m ready.”

“No!” Fireheart protested again. He remembered the noble leader she had been, wise and inspiring, and how she had mentored him when he came into the Clan as a kittypet. And in the end StarClan had been kind to her. She had come here to die as nobly as she had lived, saving her Clan by sacrificing herself.

“Bluestar, don’t leave us,” he begged.

“I must,” his leader whispered. “I have fought my last battle.” She was panting in her efforts to speak. “When I saw the Clan at Sunningrocks, the strong helping the weak. . .and I knew you and the others had gone to confront the pack. . .I knew my Clan was loyal, willing to do their part. I knew StarClan was with us. I knew. . .” Her voice failed and she struggled to continue. “I knew that I could not leave you to face the danger alone.”

“Bluestar. . .” Fireheart’s voice shook with the pain of parting, and yet his heart leaped to hear that his leader had such faith and pride in her Clan.

Bluestar fixed her blue gaze on him. Fireheart thought he could already see the shimmer of StarClan in her eyes. “Fire will save the Clan,” she murmured, and Fireheart remembered the mysterious prophecy that he had heard from his earliest days in ThunderClan. “You never understood, did you?” Bluestar went on.

“Not even when I gave you your apprentice name, Firepaw. And I doubted it myself, when fire raged through our camp. Yet I see the truth now. Fireheart, you are the fire who will save ThunderClan.”

Fireheart could do nothing but stare at his beloved leader. He felt as if his whole body had turned to stone. Above his head, wind tore the clouds into shreds, letting a ray of sunshine strike down and touch his pelt to flame, just as it had in the clearing when he first arrived in the Clan, so many moons ago.

“You will be a great leader.” Bluestar’s voice was the merest whisper. “One of the greatest the forest has ever known. You will have the warmth of fire to protect your Clan and the fierceness of fire to defend it. You will be Firestar, the light of ThunderClan.”

“No,” Fireheart protested. “I can’t. Not without you, Bluestar.”

But it was too late. Bluestar sighed softly, and the light died from her eyes. Mistyfoot let out a low wailing sound and pressed her nose to her mother’s fur. Stonefur crouched close to her, his head bowed. Mosslight said nothing, but kept her muzzle on Bluestar’s head, eyes glistening with grief.

“Bluestar!” Fireheart meowed desperately, but there was no response. The leader of ThunderClan had given up her last life, and gone to hunt with StarClan forever.

Fireheart rose stiffly to his paws. He had to dig his claws into the earth as his head spun, and for a moment he feared that he might fall into the sky. His fur prickled, and he felt as if his thudding heart would burst through his chest.

“Fireheart,” Graystripe murmured. “Oh, Fireheart.”

The gray warrior had left Tigerstar and walked silently over to watch his leader die. Now Fireheart saw that his friend’s amber gaze was fixed on him with something like awe, and as their eyes met, Graystripe dipped his head in deepest respect. Fireheart stiffened in horror, longing to protest; he wanted the comfort of their old, easy friendship, not this formal acknowledgment from a warrior to his Clan leader.

Beyond Graystripe, he saw Tigerstar staring at the cats huddled on the shore, amazement and fury in his eyes. Before Fireheart could say anything, the ShadowClan leader spun around and raced across the Twoleg bridge, back toward his own territory.

Fireheart let him go. He had to deal with his own terrified, hunted Clan before he tried to settle old scores. But what Tigerstar had done that day would never be forgotten, not by any cat in ThunderClan. “We’ll need to fetch some of the others,” he mewed hoarsely to Graystripe. “We must get Bluestar’s body back to camp.”

Graystripe dipped his head again. “Yes, Fireheart.”

“We’ll help,” Stonefur offered, standing up and facing the ThunderClan cats.

“We would be honored,” added Mistyfoot, her eyes clouded with sorrow. “I would like to see our mother laid to rest in her Clan.” Mosslight nodded her agreement.

“Thank you, all of you,” meowed Fireheart. He took a deep breath, drew himself up, and shook his drying fur. He felt as if the weight of the whole Clan had descended on his shoulders, and yet, in a heartbeat, it began to seem possible that he could bear it.

He was the leader of ThunderClan now. With the death of the lead dog, the threat of the pack had gone from the forest, and his Clan was waiting for him, safe, at Sunningrocks. Sandstorm and their kits would be waiting for him too.

Pounding paws broke the silence, and he saw Jayfeather and Lionblaze, following the white-and-ginger tom he’d met during his apprenticeship, running to join them. They both skidded to a stop when they realized just which cat was standing there.

“Hollyleaf?” Lionblaze rasped in a broken voice. There were so many questions in that one word, and Fireheart realized that there wasn’t a chance to answer them, not now.

“Come on,” he meowed to all of them. “Let’s go home.”