“Water vole,” the gray warrior hissed. Sure enough, a small vole was scampering along the ice, near the bank.
Fireheart glanced at Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw, afraid that they might try to catch this tiny piece of prey. But neither apprentice moved. Fireheart felt relieved for a moment, and then his heart lurched as Graystripe dashed out onto the ice at hunting speed.
“Come back!” Fireheart hissed.
It was too late. The ice beneath Graystripe’s paws gave a terrifying crack and broke. With a startled yowl, Graystripe fell into the water. He paddled madly for a moment before disappearing into the cold, dark depths of the river.
Brackenpaw stared in horror and Cinderpaw gave a desperate mew. Fireheart didn’t quiet her. He was rigid with fear, staring into the water after his friend. Was Graystripe trapped underneath the ice? Fireheart stepped onto the ice. It felt cold and slippery beneath his paws, impossible to run on. He jumped back onto the bank. Panic gripped him, then a blaze of relief as a drenched gray head appeared in the water farther along.
But relief turned to alarm as Fireheart saw that Graystripe was being carried downriver, turning and bobbing in the freezing waters. His paws thrashed helplessly, all his instincts to swim thwarted by the fierce current. Fireheart bounded along the bank, forcing his way through the bracken, but Graystripe was swept farther and farther away.
Suddenly Fireheart heard a yowl from the opposite bank and stopped. A slender silver tabby had leaped onto the ice farther downstream. She padded lightly over the frozen sheet and slid into the river ahead of Graystripe. Amazed, Fireheart watched the she-cat swim strongly against the current, holding her position in the icy water with confident churning paws. As Graystripe was swept past, the tabby grabbed a mouthful of his fur between her teeth.
But to Fireheart’s horror, Graystripe’s weight pulled both cats under. He started running again, his eyes fixed on the river. Where were they? Then a silver-striped head appeared amid the rolling waters, pushing through the waves. The tabby was swimming against the current, dragging Graystripe with her. Fireheart could hardly believe that such a slender cat could swim with such a weight. The tabby grabbed the ice on Fireheart’s side of the river with her forepaws, her neck craning awkwardly as she held Graystripe between her teeth. Slipping and sliding, she hauled herself out of the river. Graystripe hung limply in the water, twisting and turning as the current dragged at his fur, but the tabby kept a firm grip.
Fireheart slid down the bank, raced across the ice, and skidded to a halt beside her. Without a word he reached forward and took hold of Graystripe in his teeth. Together the two cats heaved his soaking body out of the water and dragged him to the safety of the riverbank.
Fireheart bent over his friend to see if he was breathing. He felt dizzy with relief as he saw Graystripe’s slick gray flank rising and falling. Graystripe coughed and spluttered and spat out a mouthful of river water. Then he lay still.
“Graystripe!” Fireheart meowed urgently.
“I’m okay,” wheezed Graystripe. His mew was breathless, but reassuring.
Fireheart sighed and sat down. He looked closely at the silver tabby. She carried the scent of RiverClan on her. After seeing her swim, Fireheart wasn’t surprised. The tabby returned his gaze coldly, shook herself, and sat down, her sides heaving as she got her breath back. Water streamed from her glossy fur as if her pelt were made from duck feathers.
Graystripe turned his head and looked at his rescuer. “Thanks,” he croaked.
“You idiot!” she spat, flattening her ears. “What are you doing in my territory?”
“Drowning?” replied Graystripe.
The silver tabby flicked her ears, and Fireheart saw a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Can’t you drown yourself in your own territory?”
Graystripe’s whiskers twitched. “Ah, but who would rescue me there?” he rasped.
There was a tiny mew behind Fireheart. He turned to see Cinderpaw crouching by a clump of grass farther up the bank. “Where’s Brackenpaw?” he asked.
“Just coming,” answered Cinderpaw, pointing with her nose. Her brother was creeping nervously along the bank toward them.
Fireheart sighed and turned to his friend. “Look, Graystripe, we’ve got to get out of here.”
“I know.” Graystripe pushed himself to his paws and turned to the silver tabby. “Thanks again.”
She dipped her head graciously, but hissed, “Hurry, go now!” She looked over her shoulder. “If my father knew that I’d rescued a ThunderClan intruder he’d shred me for kit bedding!”
“Why’d you save me then?” teased Graystripe.
The tabby looked away. “Instinct. I couldn’t watch any cat drown. Now go away!”
Fireheart stood up. “Thanks. I’d have missed this furball if he’d drowned.” He nudged Graystripe. His friend hadn’t even shaken the icy water from his fur and he was soaked to the skin. “Come on, let’s get back to camp. You’re freezing!”
“Okay, I’m coming!” Graystripe meowed. But before he followed Fireheart up the slope, he turned back to the silver she-cat. “What’s your name? Mine’s Graystripe.”
“Silverstream,” she replied, and bounded away, back onto the ice and over the channel of water to the far side.
Fireheart and Graystripe led their apprentices through the bracken, toward the border. Fireheart couldn’t help noticing that Graystripe looked back over his shoulder more than once.
Cinderpaw noticed too. The little gray cat glanced up, mischief dancing in her eyes. “What a pretty RiverClan cat she was!”
Graystripe gave her a playful cuff around the ear and she ran on ahead.
“Stay with us,” Fireheart warned in a loud hiss. They were still in RiverClan territory. He flashed Cinderpaw an angry look as she stopped and waited for them. If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t be here at all, and Graystripe wouldn’t have nearly drowned. He looked at his wet friend. Even though the gray warrior had shaken as much of the water from his fur as he could, his coat was still dripping and ice was beginning to form on the ends of his whiskers.
Fireheart quickened the pace. “Are you okay?” he asked Graystripe.
“F-f-fine!” replied Graystripe, through chattering teeth.
“Sorry,” mewed Cinderpaw softly as she fell into step behind Fireheart.
He sighed. “It’s not your fault.” He felt weighed down with worry. How were they going to explain this to the Clan? No fresh-kill for the elders—there wasn’t time to go back for the vole now—and a soaked Graystripe. Fireheart shuddered as he thought how close he had come to losing his closest friend. Thank StarClan that Silverstream had been there to save him.
“The stream near the training hollow is still running with water,” Brackenpaw meowed thoughtfully from the back.
“What?” asked Fireheart, puzzled out of his gloomy thoughts.
“The Clan will probably assume that Graystripe fell in there,” continued the young apprentice.
“We could say he was showing us how to catch fish,” Cinderpaw added.
“I’m not sure any cat would believe Graystripe would get his paws wet on purpose in this weather,” Fireheart pointed out.
“Well, I don’t want the rest of the Clan to know I had to be rescued by a RiverClan cat!” meowed Graystripe with a flash of his old spirit. “And we can’t let them know we were in RiverClan’s territory again.”
Fireheart nodded. “Come on,” he meowed. “Let’s run the rest of the way; it’ll help Graystripe warm up.”
The cats raced across the RiverClan border and past Sunningrocks. As the sun began to dip behind the treetops, they arrived back outside the camp.
Graystripe’s fur had dried a little, but frozen droplets hung on his whiskers and tail.
Fireheart led the way through the gorse entrance. His heart sank when he saw Tigerclaw sitting in the clearing watching them.
The deputy fixed his sharp eyes on Fireheart. “No fresh-kill?” he growled. “I thought y
ou were meant to be teaching these two how to hunt today. You look half-drowned, Graystripe. You must have fallen into a river to get that wet.” His nostrils flared and he drew himself up to his full height. “Don’t tell me you’ve been into RiverClan territory again!”
CHAPTER 12
Fireheart lifted his head, about to speak, but Cinderpaw beat him to it.
“It’s my fault, Tigerclaw.” She stared boldly up at the great tabby. “We were hunting on the frozen stream by the training hollow, on the bend by the deep pool. Even that bit was frozen. I slipped and Graystripe came to help me, but the ice wasn’t thick enough for him and it cracked and he fell into the water.” Tigerclaw looked into her clear, bright eyes as she added, “It really is deep there. Fireheart had to pull him out.”
Fireheart cringed, remembering how he had stood motionless with terror at the sight of Graystripe disappearing into the river.
Tigerclaw nodded and looked at Graystripe. “You’d better get yourself to Yellowfang before you freeze to death.” The ThunderClan deputy stood up and stalked away, and Fireheart breathed a sigh of relief.
Graystripe didn’t hesitate. The long run home hadn’t stopped his teeth from chattering. He bounded away to Yellowfang’s den. Brackenpaw glanced at Cinderpaw and padded off to his nest, his tail drooping with exhaustion.
Fireheart looked at Cinderpaw. “Aren’t you even a bit frightened by Tigerclaw?” he asked curiously.
“Why should I be?” replied Cinderpaw. “He’s a great warrior. I admire him.”
Of course, why shouldn’t she? Fireheart thought. “You lie very well,” he growled sternly, trying his best to act like a mentor.
“Well, I try not to,” mewed Cinderpaw. “I just thought the truth wouldn’t be very helpful here.”
Fireheart had to admit she had a point. He shook his head slowly. “Go and get warm.”
“Yes, Fireheart!” Cinderpaw dipped her head and charged after Brackenpaw.
Fireheart padded over to the warriors’ den. He was worried at how easily the story about Graystripe’s soaking had tumbled from Cinderpaw’s mouth. But he also believed she was a well-meaning and honest cat. He thought of Ravenpaw, another good cat. Had the story he’d told about Tigerclaw killing Redtail simply been just that—a story that tumbled from his mouth in the heat of the moment? Fireheart shook the thought away. Ravenpaw had been terrified when he spoke to Fireheart. He obviously believed his own story. Why else would he have been frightened enough to leave the Clan?
Fireheart chose a few pieces of fresh-kill and carried them over to the nettle clump. He settled himself beside it and began to gnaw thoughtfully on a mouse. The admiration in Cinderpaw’s voice when she had spoken of Tigerclaw worried him. It seemed as though he alone suspected there was more to the ThunderClan deputy than met the eye. Bluestar’s attitude toward Tigerclaw certainly hadn’t changed. She had been treating him with the same trust and respect that she had always shown him. With a flash of frustration, Fireheart ripped another mouthful from his meal.
A loud sneeze made him look up. Graystripe was heading toward him.
“How are you?” Fireheart asked as Graystripe arrived, smelling of one of Yellowfang’s herb concoctions.
Graystripe sat down heavily and coughed.
“I’ve saved you some food,” Fireheart meowed, pushing a plump thrush and a vole toward his friend.
“Yellowfang says I have to stay in camp. She says I have a chill,” Graystripe meowed thickly.
“I’m not surprised. What did she dose you with?”
“Feverfew and lavender.” Graystripe lay down and began to nibble at the thrush. “This’ll be enough for me,” he mumbled. “I’m not very hungry.”
Fireheart looked at his friend in amazement. That wasn’t something he had ever thought he’d hear Graystripe say. “You sure?” he asked. “There’s plenty here.”
Graystripe stared down at the thrush and didn’t reply.
“Are you sure?” Fireheart repeated.
“What?” Graystripe turned his faraway gaze on Fireheart. “Uh, yeah,” he meowed.
He must have a fever, Fireheart decided, shaking his head. Oh, well, at least he was still here, thanks to that RiverClan cat.
A few days later Fireheart woke to find the first fog of leaf-bare filling the den. When he crept outside, he could barely see the other side of the clearing. He heard pawsteps hurrying toward him, and Mousefur appeared out of the gloom.
“Tigerclaw wants to see you,” she meowed.
“Right, thanks,” answered Fireheart. Alarm shot through him. He’d slipped away to visit Princess yesterday. Had Tigerclaw noticed?
“What was that?” Graystripe’s voice wheezed behind him. He sat down beside Fireheart, sneezed, and yawned.
“Tigerclaw wants to see me.” Fireheart looked at his friend. “You should be asleep.” He was beginning to worry about Graystripe. He ought to have recovered by now. “Did you rest up yesterday?” he asked.
“As much as I could between coughing and sneezing,” complained Graystripe.
“Then why weren’t you in your nest when I got back from”—Fireheart hesitated, remembering he’d spent the afternoon talking with Princess—“training?”
“Do you think I get any peace and quiet in there?” Graystripe flicked his head back at the den. “Warriors trooping in and out all day! I found somewhere quieter, that’s all.”
Fireheart was about to ask where, but Graystripe spoke first. “I wonder what Tigerclaw wants?”
Fireheart’s paws prickled. “I’d better go and find out.”
He could just see the shapes of Tigerclaw and Whitestorm through the mist, sitting below the Highrock. As Fireheart padded over to them, they stopped talking and Tigerclaw turned to him. “It’s time Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw were assessed,” he growled.
“Already?” Fireheart meowed in surprise. The apprentices had not been training long.
“Bluestar wants to see how their training is progressing. Especially with Graystripe being too ill to train Brackenpaw. If Brackenpaw is falling behind, she needs to know so she can appoint another mentor for him.”
Fireheart’s tail twitched with annoyance. Surely Graystripe would recover soon. It would be unfair to entrust his first apprentice to someone else. “I’ve been taking Brackenpaw out with me and Cinderpaw every day,” he meowed quickly.
Tigerclaw glanced at Whitestorm and nodded. “Yes, but this is your first time as a mentor. It’s a lot for you to take on, and ThunderClan needs well-trained warriors.”
I know, and I’m just a kittypet, not a Clanborn warrior, Fireheart thought bitterly. He looked down at his paws, stinging with resentment. No one had asked him to take on Brackenpaw, and he’d been putting in a lot of effort with both apprentices.
Tigerclaw went on. “Send Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw on a hunting mission through Tallpines, as far as Twolegplace. Keep an eye on them, watch them hunt, and report to me. I’ll be interested to see how much fresh-kill they add to the pile.”
Whitestorm added, “If Cinderpaw’s skills match her enthusiasm, there should be plenty to eat tonight. I hear she is a keen apprentice.”
“Yes, she is,” Fireheart agreed, though he was barely listening. Tigerclaw’s words had set his heart racing. Why was Tigerclaw sending him to Twolegplace again? His own hunting assessment had been held over exactly the same route, and Tigerclaw had seen him sharing words with an old kittypet friend; he’d reported it to Bluestar and she had questioned Fireheart’s loyalty to the Clan. Fireheart felt the fur along his spine begin to prickle. Was this Tigerclaw’s way of warning him that he had been spotted talking to Princess?
Fireheart twisted his head and gave his back a quick lick, brushing his bristling hairs flat with his tongue. He sat up straight again and calmly suggested, “The Sunningrocks would be an equally good place to test their skills. The sun there might have burned away some of this mist, too.”
“No,” growled Tigerclaw. “The dawn patrol reported
scenting RiverClan at Sunningrocks. They may have started hunting there again.” Anger flared in his eyes, and his lip curled to reveal sharp teeth. “They will need to be warned off before we do any more training there. For now, Tallpines would be much safer for the assessment.”
Whitestorm nodded in agreement while Fireheart’s ears twitched uncomfortably at this news. RiverClan at Sunningrocks! It was lucky they hadn’t been spotted by enemy patrols when Graystripe fell into the river.
“As for the fog,” Tigerclaw continued smoothly, “hunting in difficult conditions will make the test more interesting.”
“Yes, Tigerclaw,” meowed Fireheart, ducking his head respectfully to the two warriors. “I’ll tell Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw. We’ll get started right away.”
When Fireheart explained the assessment to the apprentices, Cinderpaw flicked up her tail and ran in an excited circle. “An assessment! Do you think we’re ready?”
“Of course,” Fireheart meowed, hiding his doubts. “You’ve been working hard and learning quickly.”
“But won’t the fog make hunting difficult?” asked Brackenpaw.
Fireheart replied, “There are advantages to the stillness of the air.”
Brackenpaw looked thoughtful, then his eyes began to shine and he mewed, “It’ll be harder to sniff out prey, but it’ll also make it harder for the prey to smell us.”
“Exactly,” Fireheart agreed.
“Shall we go now?” Cinderpaw asked.
“As soon as you like,” answered Fireheart. “But take your time; it’s not a race….” His words were wasted on Cinderpaw, who was already charging toward the camp entrance. “You’ve got till sunset,” he called after her. Brackenpaw glanced at Fireheart and turned to follow his sister with a small sigh.
Fireheart tracked the two apprentices through the Tallpines. The springy layer of pine needles underpaw felt strangely soft after the frozen ground in the rest of the forest. He followed Cinderpaw’s trail until he could see her stalking eagerly through the forest. Then he picked up Brackenpaw’s scent and followed that. The trails crossed here and there. Fireheart could smell where the apprentices had run fast, where they had sat down, even where they had lingered together at one point.