“I knew it really,” she mewed. “It’s just that sometimes I dream about being in the forest, hunting with Brackenpaw, and then I wake up and the pain in my leg reminds me I’ll never hunt again. It feels too much to bear. I have to pretend that maybe, one day, I’ll be able to hunt.”
Fireheart couldn’t bear to see her in such low spirits. “I’ll take you out into the forest again,” he promised. “We’ll find the oldest, slowest mouse in the woods. It won’t stand a chance against you.”
Cinderpaw looked at him and purred gratefully.
Fireheart purred back at her, but there was a question that had been nagging at him since the accident. “Cinderpaw,” he began, “can you remember what happened when the monster hit you? Was Tigerclaw there?”
Cinderpaw’s eyes clouded with confusion. “I d-don’t know,” she stammered. Fireheart felt a pang of guilt as he saw her flinch away from the memory. “I went straight to the burned ash where Dustpaw said Tigerclaw would be, and then there was the monster and…I don’t really remember.”
“You wouldn’t have realized how thin the verge was there.” Fireheart shook his head slowly. “You must have run straight onto the Thunderpath.” Why wasn’t Tigerclaw where he said he’d be? he thought with a flash of rage. He could have stopped her from running out! Princess’s words rang ominously in his head. Was it a trap? He pictured Tigerclaw, crouching downwind, hidden among the trees, staring out at the verge, waiting—
“How’s Cloudkit?” Cinderpaw’s mew cut short his thoughts. She clearly wanted to change the subject.
Fireheart was happy to oblige, especially if it meant talking about Princess’s son. “Getting bigger every day,” he meowed proudly.
“I’m dying to meet him. When are you going to bring him to visit me?”
“As soon as Brindleface lets me,” Fireheart answered. “She won’t let him out of her sight at the moment.”
“She likes him, then?”
“She treats him just like her other kits,” Fireheart meowed, “thank StarClan. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if she’d take to him. He looks so different from her other kits.” Even Fireheart couldn’t deny that Cloudkit’s snowy pelt of soft fur looked out of place beside the other kits, with their forest-colored coats of short, mottled fur. “At least he gets on well with his nursery mates….” Fireheart’s voice trailed away. Hestared at the ground, feeling a twinge of anxiety.
“What’s the matter?” Cinderpaw prompted gently.
Fireheart shrugged. “I’m just sick of the way some of the other cats look at him, like he’s stupid or worthless.”
“Does Cloudkit notice these looks?”
Fireheart shook his head.
“Well, don’t worry then,” Cinderpaw mewed.
“But Cloudkit doesn’t even know he was born a kittypet. I think he just assumes he’s from a different Clan. But if they keep giving him these dirty looks, he’s going to realize there’s something wrong with him.” Fireheart looked at his paws fretfully.
“Something wrong with him?” echoed Cinderpaw in wonder. “You were born a kittypet and there’s nothing wrong with you! Look, by the time Cloudkit works out where he comes from, he’ll be able to start proving that a kittypet can be as good as any Clanborn warrior. Just like you’ve done.”
“What if someone tells him before he’s ready?”
“If he’s anything like you, he was born ready!”
“When did you get so smart?” Fireheart meowed, rather surprised by his apprentice’s sharpness.
Cinderpaw rolled onto her back with a dramatic moan. “Suffering can do that to a cat!” Fireheart prodded her stomach with a paw, and Cinderpaw squeaked before scrambling back onto her side. “No, really,” she mewed. “Look who I’ve been hanging out with lately!”
Fireheart tipped his head on one side questioningly.
“Yellowfang, you dope,” Cinderpaw scoffed. “She’s one sharp old cat. I’m learning a lot.” She sat up. “Yellowfang said there’s a Gathering tonight. Are you going?”
“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted. “I’m going to ask Bluestar later. I’m not exactly popular with the Clan at the moment.”
“They’ll get over it,” Cinderpaw promised. She nudged his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you go and find out if you’re going, then? They’ll be leaving soon.”
“You’re right,” Fireheart replied. “Will you be okay till Yellowfang gets back? Do you want me to fetch you some fresh-kill?”
“I’ll be fine,” Cinderpaw assured him. “And Yellowfang’ll bring me something. She always does. I’m going to be the fattest cat in the Clan by the time she’s finished with me.”
Fireheart felt a burst of happiness to see his former apprentice recovering her spirit. He was tempted to stay and keep her company, but she was right—he should find out if he could go to the Gathering. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he meowed. “There should be plenty of news from the Gathering.”
“Yeah, and I want to hear it all,” Cinderpaw mewed. “Make sure Bluestar lets you go! Quick!”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Fireheart retorted, getting to his paws. “’Bye, Cinderpaw.”
“’Bye!”
Fireheart stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked around for Bluestar. She was talking with Willowpelt outside her den. Fireheart reached them just as Willowpelt stood up to leave. The slender gray warrior nodded to Fireheart as she padded away.
Bluestar gazed at Fireheart with knowing eyes. “You want to go to the Gathering,” she meowed. Fireheart opened his mouth to speak, but Bluestar interrupted him. “All the warriors want to go tonight, but I can’t take every cat.”
Fireheart felt disappointed. “I wanted to see WindClan again,” he explained. “To find out how they’ve been getting on since Graystripe and I brought them home.”
Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need reminding of what you did for WindClan,” she meowed sharply, and Fireheart flinched. “But you’re right to be concerned,” Bluestar went on.
“You and Graystripe may come to the Gathering tonight.”
“Thank you, Bluestar,” Fireheart meowed.
“It’ll be an interesting Gathering,” Bluestar warned him. “RiverClan and ShadowClan have much to explain.”
Fireheart felt his ears twitch nervously, but he couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement as well. Bluestar clearly meant to challenge Crookedstar and Nightstar about their invasions into ThunderClan territory. He dipped his head respectfully to Bluestar and padded away.
As he collected two voles for Brindleface from the pile of fresh-kill, Fireheart noticed Yellowfang trudging into the camp. Her paws were muddy and her mouth was crammed with fat, knobbly roots. Her search for comfrey had clearly been successful.
Fireheart carried the fresh-kill over to the nursery. Brindleface was curled up inside feeding Cloudkit. The other kits had recently given up their mother’s milk, and soon Cloudkit too would have his first taste of fresh-kill.
Brindleface looked up as he entered, her eyes shadowed with concern. “I’ve just sent for Yellowfang,” she mewed.
Fireheart was instantly alarmed. “Is there something wrong with Cloudkit?”
“He’s been a little feverish today.” Brindleface leaned down and licked the kit’s head as he stopped feeding and began squirming restlessly. “It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d see what Yellowfang thought. I…I don’t want to take any chances.”
Fireheart remembered that the dappled queen had recently lost a kit, and he hoped she was just being overcautious. But Cloudkit did look uncomfortable. “I’ll come and see you after the Gathering,” he promised.
He ducked out of the nursery and headed back to the pile of fresh-kill to pick out his own food. Brindleface’s news had spoiled his appetite, but he knew he should eat something before the journey to Fourtrees tonight.
Longtail and Dustpaw were already standing over the pile. Fireheart sat down and waited for them to leave.
; “Haven’t seen the Cloudchick today,” meowed Longtail. Fireheart felt a familiar ripple of frustration at Longtail’s snide comment.
“He’s probably realized how silly he looks and decided to hide in the nursery!” mewed Dustpaw.
“I’d like to be there when he tries hunting for the first time. The prey’ll spot him coming a tree’s length away with all that white fluff,” Longtail sneered.
“Unless they mistake him for a puffball mushroom!” Dustpaw’s whiskers twitched as he threw a sideways glance at Fireheart.
Fireheart flattened his ears and looked away. He watched Yellowfang hurry into the nursery with a mouthful of feverfew. Unfortunately Longtail and Dustpaw noticed too. “Looks like the kittypet’s caught a chill. What a surprise,” meowed Longtail. “Goldenflower was right—he won’t last through leaf-bare!” The tabby warrior turned and stared at Fireheart, waiting for a reaction, but Fireheart ignored him and walked over to the pile of fresh-kill. He chose a thrush and carried it away to eat, feeling drained by the endless spite.
Graystripe was sharing his meal with Runningwind by the nettle clump. “Hi, did you have a good hunt?” Runningwind called as Fireheart passed.
“Yes, thanks,” Fireheart replied.
Graystripe didn’t look up.
“Bluestar said you could go to the Gathering,” Fireheart told Graystripe.
“I know,” Graystripe answered, still chewing.
“Are you going?” Fireheart turned to Runningwind.
“You bet! I wouldn’t miss this one for anything!”
Fireheart padded on and found a quiet spot at the edge of the clearing. Longtail’s words echoed in his head. Would the Clan ever accept the little white kit? Fireheart closed his eyes and began to wash himself.
As he turned to lick his side, his whiskers brushed against something. He opened his eyes to find Sandpaw standing beside him. Her orange pelt glowed silver beneath the rising moon. “Thought you might like some company,” she mewed. She sat down and began to wash Fireheart’s back with long, soothing strokes.
Through half-closed eyes, Fireheart caught a glimpse of Dustpaw staring from outside the apprentices’ den, unable to disguise his envy and amazement. Dustpaw wasn’t the only one surprised by Sandpaw’s gesture—Fireheart hadn’t expected such friendliness from the fiery young she-cat, but her warmth was welcome, and he wasn’t going to question it. “Are you going to the Gathering?” he asked.
Sandpaw paused. “Yes. You?”
“Yes. I think Bluestar’s going to challenge Crookedstar and Nightstar about their hunting.” He waited for Sandpaw to reply, but she was staring up at the darkening sky.
“I wish I were going as a warrior,” she murmured. Fireheart tensed, but for once there was no hint of jealousy or bitterness in her mew.
Fireheart felt awkward. He knew his training had started after Sandpaw’s, and he had been a warrior for more than two moons already. “It can’t be long till Bluestar gives you your warrior name,” he meowed, trying to sound encouraging.
“Why do you think it’s taking so long?” Sandpaw asked, turning her pale green eyes on Fireheart.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Bluestar’s been ill, and there’s RiverClan and ShadowClan causing trouble. I guess she’s got other things on her mind.”
“You’d think she’d need warriors more than ever!” meowed Sandpaw.
Fireheart felt a stab of sympathy. “I suppose she’s just waiting for the…the right time.” He knew it didn’t sound very helpful, but it was all he could think to say.
“Maybe by newleaf.” Sandpaw sighed. “When do you think you’ll get a new apprentice?”
“Bluestar hasn’t said anything yet.”
“Perhaps she’ll give you Cloudkit when he’s old enough.”
“I hope so.” Fireheart stared across the clearing at the nursery, wondering if Yellowfang had finished treating Cloudkit. “If he makes it that far.”
“Of course he’ll make it!” Sandpaw meowed confidently.
“But he has a fever.” Fireheart let his shoulders sag with worry.
“All kits get fevers!” Sandpaw retorted. “With his thick fur, he’ll recover in no time. That coat’s going to be handy in leaf-bare, perfect for hunting in the snow. The prey’ll never see him coming, and he’ll be able to stay out twice as long as thin-pelts like Longtail!”
Fireheart purred and felt himself relax. Sandpaw had lifted his spirits again. He stood up and gave her a brisk lick on the head. “Come on,” he meowed. “Bluestar is calling the cats for the Gathering.”
They joined the other cats beside the camp entrance, a silent, purposeful group.
Bluestar signaled to them with a flick of her tail, then led them through the gorse tunnel and out of the ravine. The forest glistened in the cold moonlight as they sprinted toward Fourtrees. Clouds of breath billowed from Fireheart’s muzzle, and the forest floor felt frozen beneath his paws.
For the first time since Fireheart had joined the Clan, Bluestar didn’t hesitate at the ridge above Fourtrees to prepare herself for the meeting. Instead her cats followed their leader wordlessly as she plunged straight down the slope into the clearing.
CHAPTER 23
RiverClan and ShadowClan had not yet arrived, but WindClan was already there. Tallstar greeted Bluestar with a respectful nod.
Fireheart spotted Onewhisker and bounded over to meet him. “Hi!” he meowed. It had been over two moons since he’d last seen the small brown tabby warrior who had battled beside him at the gorge. For the first time in ages, Fireheart recalled Whiteclaw’s death and felt the familiar bristle of horror as he pictured the RiverClan warrior disappearing beneath the rushing river.
“Where’s Graystripe?” Onewhisker asked. “Is he okay?”
Fireheart could see from the concern in his eyes that the WindClan warrior was thinking about Whiteclaw’s death too. “He’s fine,” Fireheart answered. “He’s over there with the others.” Fireheart remembered the WindClan queen whose kit he’d helped to carry. “How’s Morningflower?”
“Happy to be home,” replied Onewhisker. “Her kit is growing quickly now.” Fireheart purred with pleasure. “The whole Clan is well,” Onewhisker added. He glanced at Fireheart with an amused gleam in his eyes. “It’s great to eat rabbit again. I hope I never have to taste another rat as long as I live!”
Fireheart detected a fresh scent on the night air. RiverClan was coming. He could smell ShadowClan, too. He scanned the ridge that ran around the edge of the hollow. Sure enough, RiverClan cats were streaming down one side. On the opposite ridge, Fireheart saw ShadowClan cats poised at the top, their coats gleaming in the moonlight. The lean figure of Nightstar stood at the head of the group.
“At last,” growled Onewhisker. He’d spotted them as well. “It’s too cold to be hanging around tonight.”
Fireheart nodded absently. He was searching the crowd of RiverClan cats as they entered the clearing, looking for Silverstream. He recognized the pale gray she-cat easily. She skidded to a halt at the bottom of the slope, then followed her father as he exchanged reserved greetings with the warriors from the other Clans.
Nervously Fireheart scanned the growing throng of cats for Graystripe. Would he dare speak to Silverstream tonight? The gray warrior had his back to Silverstream while he talked with a WindClan warrior.
Fireheart was watching Graystripe so closely that he didn’t hear Deadfoot approach. “Good evening, Fireheart,” meowed the WindClan deputy. “How are you?”
Fireheart turned. “Hello,” he meowed. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Deadfoot nodded. “Good,” he meowed, and limped away.
Onewhisker gave Fireheart a friendly nudge. “You’re privileged!” Fireheart felt a small glimmer of pride.
Bluestar’s yowl sounded from the Great Rock. Fireheart turned and looked up, surprised. The leaders didn’t usually call the meeting so soon. Crookedstar and Nightstar were standing close together on the rock. Bluestar waited besid
e Tallstar for the cats to gather beneath them. It was the first time Fireheart had seen the WindClan leader at a Gathering, he realized with a jolt.
Fireheart and Onewhisker followed the other cats as they settled themselves beneath the rock. Fireheart looked up expectantly, waiting for Bluestar to welcome Tallstar and WindClan back, but the ThunderClan leader was clearly in no mood to waste time on friendly words.
“RiverClan has been hunting at Sunningrocks,” she began angrily. “Our patrols have scented your warriors many times, Crookedstar. Sunningrocks belongs to ThunderClan!”
Crookedstar met Bluestar’s gaze steadily. “Have you forgotten how recently one of our warriors was killed defending our territory from ThunderClan?”
“You had no need to defend your territory,” Bluestar answered. “My warriors were not hunting there. They were returning home after finding WindClan. It was a mission we all agreed on! According to the warrior code, they should not have been attacked.”
“You speak of the warrior code?” spat Crookedstar. “What about the ThunderClan warrior who has been spying on our territory since then?”
Bluestar was caught off guard. “Warrior?” she echoed. “Have you seen him?”
“Not yet,” Crookedstar hissed. “But we find his scent so often, it won’t be long before we do.”
Fireheart glanced at Graystripe in alarm. He knew only too well which warrior had been detected in Crookedstar’s territory. Would any of the RiverClan warriors recognize his scent tonight?
Graystripe sat motionless, not taking his eyes off the leaders on the Great Rock.
Tigerclaw’s deep growl sounded from the crowd. “We have scented ShadowClan in our territory as well as RiverClan this past moon. And not just one warrior, but a whole patrol, always the same cats.”
The ShadowClan leader’s eyes flashed indignantly. “ShadowClan has not been in your territory. Clearly your warriors can’t tell the difference in the scents of cats outside their own Clan. You have been smelling the scent of rogue cats. They have been stealing prey from our territory as well!”
Tigerclaw snorted in disbelief and Nightstar glared down at him. “Do you doubt the word of ShadowClan, Tigerclaw?” The crowd murmured uncomfortably as Tigerclaw stared back at Nightpelt with unconcealed distrust.