Swallowing the vole, he meowed, “I more or less promised Snowkit to Brackenfur. It’s only fair I should ask Bluestar if he can mentor Tawnykit, seeing as he was disappointed so recently. Besides, he’s a fine warrior, and he’ll do a good job.”
Graystripe’s eyes glowed briefly with pride; Brackenfur had been his apprentice, and he was clearly delighted to hear how well the young warrior was doing. Then he twitched his ears disbelievingly. “Come on, Fireheart. That’s not the real reason, and you know it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to give Tawnykit to Sandstorm because you’re afraid of what Tigerstar might do.”
Staring at his friend, Fireheart knew that the gray warrior was right. The reason had been there in his mind, but he had refused to admit it, even to himself.
“You want to protect her,” Graystripe went on, when Fireheart didn’t speak.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Fireheart demanded. “Tigerstar already encouraged Darkstripe to take the kits out of camp to visit him. Do you think that will be the end of it? Do you think he’ll be content just to see them at Gatherings?”
“No, I don’t.” Graystripe gave an exasperated snort. “But what will Sandstorm think? She’s not some pretty little kittypet, hiding behind big, strong warriors. She can take care of herself.”
Fireheart shrugged uncomfortably. “Sandstorm will just have to accept the decision. I’m sure Bluestar will agree to let Brackenfur have Tawnykit.”
Graystripe’s amber eyes gleamed in anticipation of trouble ahead. “You’re the deputy. But Sandstorm isn’t going to like it,” he predicted.
“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 Brackenfur to mentor Tawnykit.”
Bluestar gazed at him with narrowed eyes. “A traitor to mentor the son of a traitor,” she rasped. Clearly she had no interest in who should mentor Tawnykit. “How suitable.”
“Bluestar, there are no traitors in the Clan now,” Fireheart tried to assure her, pushing down his misgivings about Bramblekit.
Bluestar gave a disdainful sniff. “Do what you want, Fireheart. Why should I care what happens to this nest of rogues?”
Fireheart gave up his attempt to reason with her. 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.
“I think you’re ready for an apprentice,” he announced. “How would you like to mentor Tawnykit?”
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?”
He paused as Sandstorm appeared from the warriors’ den and began walking toward him. “Hang on, Brackenfur,” he muttered hastily. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Then he went to meet the pale ginger warrior.
“What’s this Graystripe tells me?” Sandstorm demanded as soon as he was in earshot. “Is it true that you asked Bluestar if Brackenfur could mentor Tawnykit?”
Fireheart swallowed. Her green eyes were blazing with anger, and the fur on her shoulders bristled. “Yes, it’s true,” he began.
“But I’m more experienced than he is!”
Fireheart resisted the urge to tell her the truth, so that Sandstorm knew he was doing it for her sake and for no other reason. But telling her that she wasn’t going to mentor Tawnykit because he wanted to protect her from possible trouble with Tigerstar would make her even more furious. She would only think that he had judged her too weak to deal with the threat posed by the ShadowClan leader.
“Well?” Sandstorm insisted. “Don’t you think I’m capable of being a good mentor?”
“It’s not that at all,” Fireheart protested.
“Then what? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t mentor Tawnykit!”
“Because I…” Fireheart cast around desperately for something he could tell her. “Because I want you to lead extra hunting patrols. You’re a brilliant hunter, Sandstorm—the best. And with leaf-bare here, prey will be scarce again. We’re really going to need you.” As he spoke, he realized that what he said was true. Extra hunting patrols led by Sandstorm would be one way to solve the problem of feeding the Clan through the bitter moons of leaf-bare.
Sandstorm, however, was not impressed. “You’re just making excuses,” she meowed scornfully. “There’s no reason why I shouldn’t lead hunting patrols and mentor Tawnykit. She’s bright and fast, and I bet she turns out to be a brilliant hunter, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Fireheart mewed. “I’ve already asked Brackenfur to take Tawnykit. I’ll ask Bluestar to give you one of Willowpelt’s kits when the worst of leaf-bare is over. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay,” Sandstorm hissed. “I haven’t done anything to be passed over like this. I won’t forget this in a hurry, Fireheart.”
She turned away and went to join Frostfur and Brindleface. Fireheart took a step after her and then stopped. There was nothing he could say, and besides, Bluestar had just appeared from her den to call the Clan to the meeting.
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 and Whitestorm appeared from the fern tunnel leading to Cinderpelt’s den 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. “Lostface just woke up and managed to eat some fresh-kill. I think she’s going to be okay.”
Fireheart let out a delighted purr. “That’s great, Cinderpelt.” But for all his relief at the news, he couldn’t help wondering how Lostface would cope when she learned that her face was so terribly injured.
“She’s already sitting up and trying to groom herself,” Cinderpelt went on, “but she’s still very shaky. She’ll need to stay in my den for a few days yet.”
“Has she said anything about what attacked her?”
Cinderpelt shook her head. “I tried to ask her, but it upsets her too much to think about it. She still cries out ‘pack’ and ‘kill’ in her nightmares.”
“The Clan needs to know,” Fireheart reminded her.
“Then the Clan will have to wait,” Cinderpelt assured sharply. “Lostface needs peace and quiet if she’s going to get better.”
Fireheart wanted to ask her when she thought Lostface would be fit to talk to him, but he had to pay attention to the ceremony as Goldenflower came out of the nursery, flanked by her two kits. Fireheart could see she had groomed both of them especially carefully. Tawnykit’s ginger fur glowed like a flame in the dying sun, and Bramblekit’s dark tabby pelt had a glossy sheen. As they approached the Highrock, Tawnykit bounced around with excitement, but Bramblekit seemed calm, padding forward with his head and tail held high.
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 both kits forward to stand beside her at the foot of the Highrock. Fireheart noticed that she was looking more alert than usual, as if even she could not be indifferent to the prospect of 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 T
awnypaw.”
Looking nearly as excited as his new apprentice, Brackenfur stepped forward, and Tawnypaw 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 Tawnypaw.”
Brackenfur and Tawnypaw 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, and he realized with a flash of horror that she was suspicious of his motives in offering to train Tigerstar’s son. Fireheart tried to meet his leader’s icy gaze steadily. Whatever Bluestar thought, he knew that he was motivated by loyalty to his Clan.
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, If only he weren’t Tigerstar’s son!
“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….”
In spite of his misgivings, Fireheart had to admit that Bramblepaw clearly knew nothing about the old hostility between his mentor and his father. That was thanks to Goldenflower, who sat looking at them with an unreadable expression. Fireheart guessed she wouldn’t be too pleased that he had chosen to train Tigerstar’s son himself. And 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 and your sister 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 two new apprentices and calling them by their new names.
Watching them, Fireheart saw Graystripe get up and come toward him, passing Sandstorm on the way. He heard the ginger she-cat meow, “Graystripe, aren’t 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. And you’ll have one soon,” he added, as if he could read her mind, “when Willowpelt’s kits are ready.”
An annoyed look flashed across Sandstorm’s face. Fireheart wondered whether he ought to try talking to her again, but as she spotted his hesitant approach she turned to Graystripe and meowed loudly, “Come on; let’s see if there’s any fresh-kill left.”
Fireheart halted and watched miserably as Sandstorm got to her paws and led the way over to the pile of prey. Graystripe followed her, casting a worried glance at Fireheart as he went.
Seeing Sandstorm turn her back on him, Fireheart felt bitter disappointment welling up inside him. However hard he tried, all his attempts to rekindle the old bond between him and Sandstorm seemed to be failing, and he missed her with a loneliness that could not be comforted by any of the other cats that thronged around him.
CHAPTER 21
“Keep well back,” Brackenfur warned. “This is a dangerous place.”
He and Fireheart, with their two 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.
Bramblepaw leaped back into the safety of the verge as the monster flashed past, buffeting his fur with hot, stinking wind. He was 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.
Sandstorm, 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 two new apprentices. Soon, he knew, he would have to do something about the threat that lurked there, but he was waiting until Lostface was well enough to tell them exactly what had attacked her. And deep down Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if, even when they knew, 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 and Tawnypaw opened their mouths to taste it.
“We’ve smelled that before,” announced Tawnypaw.
“Oh?” Brackenfur shot a startled glance at Fireheart.
“When Darkstripe brought us to the border to meet our father,” explained Bramblepaw.
“I spotted them.” 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.
“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 snapped. “And if I catch either of you setting one paw across the border, I’ll have your tails off!”
Tawnypaw jumped back as if she thought he was going to carry out the threat there and then.
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 ta
lk to us about our father? Why did he leave ThunderClan?”
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 the 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 two apprentices followed, their eyes wide and curious.
Fireheart checked that there was no smell of dog before settling down in a patch of dry grass, tucking his paws under his chest. Brackenfur 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.”
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 at this evidence of his apprentice’s ambition, so like Tigerstar’s. “Be quiet and 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.”