“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. 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. Blackfoot, who was Brokentail’s deputy, is my deputy now.”
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.
“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 fe
w dawns ago,” Fireheart reported, “fire started in the Treecut place and swept through our camp. Halftail and Patchpelt died, and the Clan honors them. And we especially honor Yellowfang. She went back into the burning camp to rescue Halftail.” 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.”
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 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. It was true that Bluestar was recovering from the effects of breathing smoke, but for some moons now the ThunderClan leader’s mind had been clouded. She had begun to doubt her own judgment, and even to question the loyalty of her warriors. The discovery of Tigerstar’s treachery had shaken her to her core, and 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 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.”
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 her brother, Stonefur. Their father, Oakheart, had brought them to RiverClan when they were tiny kits, and Graypool had agreed to take care of them. 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.
CHAPTER 2
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 h
ear 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 Swiftpaw ran over from the apprentices’ den; Dustpelt padded up with Darkstripe’s apprentice, Fernpaw; 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.