A Warrior Cats Rewrite: Forest of Secrets

by Niamh_8431

Summary:

Tensions are running high between the Clans that roam the forest and the uplands beyond. As newleaf approaches, allegiances shift and allies become enemies overnight.

Fireheart may be the only one who can put a stop to Tigerclaw's murderous quest for power, but the deputy is determined to silence him before he can reveal the truth. While he searches for a way to make Bluestar listen, he struggles beneath the weight of every secret he uncovers - some fresh and some that have been hidden for so long that they involve both the dead and alive.

Will Fireheart be able to drag Tigerclaw down from his rise to leadership, or will he have to watch as he loses everyone he cares about?

Notes:

This is a rewrite of Forest of Secrets. I've changed some things, like making SkyClan common knowledge, and the amount of time that has passed. Since the canon family tree needs changing DRASTICALLY, I've changed some of the relationships. Most of the new pairings and their kits are heavily inspired by Knot on tumblr, with her own Warrior Cats AU - the Power of 12 - which I recommend you read, and I credit them for most of the ideas.

Chapter 1: Prologue

A terrible cold pierced the forest like an icy claw. Frost layered every tree and bush. Snow suffocated the frozen ground and glinted beneath the silver light of the moon. The only sound was the murmur of flowing water beneath the ice that stretched from bank to bank.

A patch of reeds stirred and parted. A tom emerged from the shadows, his reddish-brown pelt fluffed up and yet still unable to escape the pain of the chill. Two kits floundered in the snow in front of him. He nudged them on with every step despite the clumps that hung from their belly fur and weighed them down.

The three cats made their way across the land with frustrating slowness. They crossed streams and well-trodden trails, climbed over tree roots and rocky outcrops.

One of the kits squealed as she plunged into a concealed hole. “Mama!” she cried. “I want Mama!”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” The tom reached down and lifted her back onto her paws. “We’re almost there, and then you’ll have a new mother and a warm nest.”

“I don’t want a new mother!” the other kit argued. “Why can’t we go back to Mama?”

He didn’t answer. New scents had turned his head, and he guided the kits towards them with worry and foreboding churning in his stomach. A pair of cats sat in the empty clearing ahead. They looked around when he pushed through the bushes and lifted his tail in greeting.

“Oakheart?” a grey she-cat meowed before he could speak. “Where have you been? Are you going to explain why you’ve dragged us out of our den in this cold?”

“Yes,” growled the pale grey tabby. “What’s so important that you couldn’t…” He trailed off as the kits struggled through the undergrowth and stumbled into the glade.

“Greypool. Voleclaw.” Oakheart dipped his head.

Greypool rushed forward and sniffed them over. “Why do you have kits with you? They’re barely a moon old! Where did they come from? They're not RiverClan’s.”

He sat down and wrapped his tail around his paws. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”

Voleclaw eyed him warily. “Why not? Are they yours?”

“I swore that I would never tell anyone their origins,” responded Oakheart. “I know this is wrong to ask of you so soon after you lost your own litter, but you, Greypool, are the only cat in RiverClan able to nurse these kits. Will you adopt them?”

“‘Adopt them’?” she echoed and pulled back. “Oakheart, you cannot make a request like that and not explain anything to me. Where is their mother?”

“She left them in my care. Please. They need warmth and milk, and you can provide that.”

“I don’t know about this.” Voleclaw cut in. His voice was laced with suspicion. “First you ask to secretly meet us outside of camp, then make us wait until past moonhigh, and when you do show up, you’re with two strange kits and ask us to take them in.”

“This is the only way,” he insisted. “Their mother can’t keep them and they’ll soon starve on their own.”

At that moment, one of the kits gave a pitiful wail. He scrambled towards Greypool’s thick pelt, seeking shelter from the freezing air. The other soon followed, and the she-cat didn’t resist as they tucked themselves behind her tail.

She hesitated, and then murmured, “Of course I’ll take them. I couldn’t let them die, no matter how confusing the circumstances.” She turned to Voleclaw. “This could be our second chance to watch our kits grow up.”

He stared back at her, then relented. “Alright. We’ll adopt them.” He pressed his muzzle against hers. “But you…” He gave Oakheart a narrow-eyed stare.

Oakheart avoided his glare. “When you tell the Clan, don’t let them know about my involvement. Tell them the kits were abandoned or orphaned in our territory.”

“Very well,” Greypool meowed after a brief glance at her mate. “What are their na-” She broke off abruptly. The warrior had already spun around and vanished from the clearing.

“This might be a mistake,” commented Voleclaw, although he failed to hide the softness in his eyes as he gazed down at the kits. “If he’s the father, then we’re covering up his codebreaking.”

“Not necessarily,” replied Greypool. She bent her head to wash their shivering bodies. “Their mother may very well be a loner or rogue. Maybe a kittypet.”

“Should we tell them they’re adopted once they’re older? Perhaps it’s better to persuade our Clanmates into letting them think they were born in RiverClan.”

She didn’t answer. Most of their scent was hidden behind the snow that clung to their pelts, but beneath that, she had detected something that made her stiffen.

Greypool opened her mouth and breathed in deeply. She hadn’t imagined it. The fur of these strange kits, whose backgrounds Oakheart had refused to explain, carried the odour of ThunderClan.

Chapter 2: Allegiances

Notes:

These allegiances include the changes to the family tree, which are very, very inspired by Kanarin's version.

If a cat is listed with one parent, their other parent is the same as in canon.

ThunderClan

LEADER: Bluestar, a bluish-grey she-cat with silver tinged around her muzzle

DEPUTY: Tigerclaw, a large, broad-shouldered dark brown tabby tom with burning amber eyes - Father of Swiftpaw + Lynxkit

MEDICINE CAT(S): Yellowfang, a ragged dark grey she-cat with criss-crossing scars on her face

SENIOR WARRIORS: Whitestorm, a tall, lean white tom with yellow eyes - Father of Greystripe

-Patchpelt, a black and white tom with yellow eyes

-Dappletail, a beautiful cream, black, and white tortie she-cat with amber eyes

WARRIORS: Goldenflower, a beautiful, long-haired golden tabby she-cat with amber eyes

-Runningwind, a lean brown tabby tom - Mate of Redtail (dead), Father of Sandstorm, Adoptive Father of Dustpelt + Ravenpaw

-Willowpelt, a pretty, pale grey she-cat with unusual blue eyes - Surrogate for Tawnyspots (dead)

-Mousefur, a small, dusky brown she-cat with one amber eye and one blue eye

-Darkstripe, a sleek very dark grey tabby tom with yellow eyes - Surrogate Son of Willowpelt + Tawnyspots, Ex-Mate of Brindleface, Father of Ashkit + Fernkit

-Longtail, a lean cream tom with dark brown tabby stripes and ice-blue eyes (Apprentice: Swiftpaw)

-Fireheart, a handsome flame-coloured tom with green eyes - Brother of Socks, Ruby, + Scourge (Apprentice: Cinderpaw)

-Greystripe, a broad-shouldered, thick-furred grey tom with a darker stripe down his head and spine - Son of Whitestorm (Apprentice: Brackenpaw)

-Sandstorm, a lean sandy-coloured tabby she-cat with pale green eyes - Daughter of Redtail + Runningwind, Adoptive Sister of Dustpelt + Ravenpaw

-Dustpelt, a dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes (StarClan)

APPRENTICES: Cinderpaw, a pretty dark grey she-cat with blue eyes

-Brackenpaw, a golden-brown tabby tom with yellow eyes

-Swiftpaw, a white and black tom with yellow eyes - Son of Tigerclaw

CARETAKERS: Speckletail, a pale golden-brown she-cat with darker flecks - Sister of Tawnyspots

QUEENS: Frostfur, a beautiful white she-cat with blue eyes (Mother to Lionheart's (dead) kits: Brightkit + Thornkit)

-Brindleface, a grey she-cat with darker spots and green eyes - Ex-Mate of Darkstripe (Mother to Darkstripe's kits: Ashkit + Fernkit, Adoptive Mother to Cloudkit)

KITS: Brightkit, a white and ginger tabby she-kit with blue eyes

-Thornkit, a golden-brown tabby tom-kit with blue eyes

-Ashkit, a pale grey tom-kit with darker spots and blue eyes

-Fernkit, a pretty grey she-kit with darker spots and green eye

-Cloudkit, a fluffy white tom-kit with blue eyes

ELDERS: Smallear, a short, plump pale grey tom with small, folded ears - Son of Mistpelt + Nettlebreeze, Brother of Rockfall + Littlestep

-Halftail, a dark brown tabby tom with half his tail missing - Brother of Robinwing

-Whiteeye, a pale grey she-cat with one amber eye and one clouded, sightless eye - Sister of Tawnyspots

PRISONERS: Brokentail, a ragged, thick-furred, blind dark brown tabby tom with a kinked tail and many scars

 

ShadowClan

LEADER: Nightstar, a skinny black tom with asthma - Son of rogues

DEPUTY: Cinderfur, a light grey tom with yellow eyes (Apprentice: Nightpaw)

MEDICINE CAT(S): Runningnose, a skinny white and pale grey tom with a constant cold

SENIOR WARRIORS: Frogtail, a dark grey tom with green eyes - Mate of Amberleaf (dead), Father of Tallpoppy, Applepelt, + Whitethroat

-Newtspeck, a pretty tortie she-cat with pale grey eyes - Mate of Nutwhisker

-Nutwhisker, a handsome brown tom with yellow eyes - Mate of Newtspeck, Father of Littlecloud + Wetfoot

WARRIORS: Scorchwind, a ginger tabby tom with a paler chest and muzzle and green eyes

-Rowanberry, a brown and cream she-cat with yellow eyes

-Wolfstep, a fluffy grey tom with a torn ear and yellow eyes - Father of Nightpaw (Apprentice: Ratpaw)

-Blizzardwing, a handsome white tom with pale grey flecks

-Finchflight, a black and white tom - Mate of Deerleap (dead), Father of Snaketail

-Flintfang, a large grey tom with brown eyes

-Ashheart, a light grey she-cat

-Fernshade, a tortie she-cat with a white muzzle, chest, and tail-tip - Mother of Nightpaw

-Russetfur, a red tabby she-cat with green eyes

-Deerfoot, a light brownish-grey tom with yellow eyes

-Stumpytail, a dark brown tabby tom with a stumped tail - Mate of Dawncloud, Father of Blossomkit + Swampkit

-Applepelt, a dark brown she-cat with green eyes - Daughter of Amberleaf + Frogtail, Sister of Tallpoppy + Whitethroat

-Snaketail, a brown tabby tom with sharp yellow eyes - Son of Deerleap + Finchflight

-Tallpoppy, a slender brown tabby she-cat - Daughter of Amberleaf + Frogtail, Sister of Applepelt + Whitethroat, Mate of Boulder, Mother of Oakpaw + Wildpaw

-Whitethroat, a small black tom with a white throat, muzzle, and paws - Son of Amberleaf + Frogtail, Brother of Tallpoppy + Applepelt (Apprentice: Wildpaw)

-Littlecloud, a very short dark brown tabby tom with a white muzzle, chest, and paws - Son of Nutwhisker

-Wetfoot, a lean grey tabby tom - Son of Nutwhisker (Apprentice: Oakpaw)

-Dawncloud, a pretty, golden tabby she-cat - Mate of Stumpytail (Apprentice: Snowpaw)

-Volewhisper, a small, pale brown tom with yellow eyes and a permanent limp

APPRENTICES: Nightpaw, a black she-cat with yellow eyes - Daughter of Fernshade + Wolfstep, Sister of Badgerfang

-Oakpaw, a light dusty-brown tom with yellow eyes - Son of Tallpoppy + Boulder, Brother of Wildpaw

-Wildpaw, a silver tabby tom with white paws and blue eyes - Son of Tallpoppy + Boulder, Brother of Oakpaw

-Snowpaw, a pretty white she-cat with brown markings on her head and back - Daughter of rogues

-Ratpaw, a dark brown tom with thin fur - Son of rogues

CARETAKERS:

QUEENS: Darkflower, a pretty, black she-cat - Originally a loner (Mother to Scorchwind's kits: Rowankit, Kinkkit, Cedarkit, + Lavenderkit)

KITS: Rowankit, a dark ginger tom-kit with yellow eyes

-Cedarkit, a thick-furred black tom-kit

-Lavenderkit, a speckled silver and black she-kit with amber eyes

-Kinkkit, a spiky-furred dark grey she-kit

ELDERS: Featherstorm, a dark brown tabby she-cat with yellow eyes

-Archeye, a light grey tom with black tabby stripes and a peculiar face marking

-Hollyflower, a sleek dark grey and white she-cat with blue eyes

-Brackenfoot, a golden-brown tom with ginger tabby legs

-Toadskip, a dusty-brown and white tabby tom with blue eyes

 

WindClan

LEADER: Tallstar, a tall, skinny black and white tom with a long tail

DEPUTY: Deadfoot, a black tom with a twisted, limp forepaw

MEDICINE CAT(S): Barkface, a thick-furred dark brown tom with a stubbed tail

SENIOR WARRIORS: Stagleap, a large, broad-shouldered dark brown tom with amber eyes

-Wrenflight, a brown she-cat with green eyes

-Ryestalk, a grey tabby she-cat with soft fur and amber eyes - Mother of Ashfoot

WARRIORS: Rabbitear, a pale brown she-cat with a fluffy white belly and yellow eyes - Mate of a loner, Mother of Runningpaw

-Mudclaw, a dark brown tabby tom - Son of rogues, Mate of Morningflower, Father of Gorsekit, Storkkit, + Quailkit

-Sorrelshine, a dark grey and brown she-cat

-Tornear, a grey tabby tom with one shredded, deaf ear - Brother of Ashfoot (Apprentice: Runningpaw)

-Ashfoot, a light grey she-cat with blue eyes - Daughter of Ryestalk + Shrewclaw, Sister of Tornear

-Onewhisker, a light brown tabby tom with yellow eyes and one longer, thicker whisker

-Doespring, a light brown she-cat

-Larksplash, a dilute tortie-and-white she-cat - Mate of Appledawn, Mother of Whitetail

-Mistmouse, a beautiful light brown tabby she-cat with very dark brown eyes

-Pigeonflight, a grey tom with soft white patches

-Bristlebark, a black tom with amber eyes

-Flytail, a white tom with green eyes - Mate of Sorrelshine, Father of Willowclaw + Webfoot

-Thrushwing, a tortie-and-white she-cat with green eyes - Born in the Greenleaf Visitors

-Whitetail, a small white she-cat with green eyes - Surrogate Daughter of Larksplash + Cloudrunner, Adoptive Daughter of Appledawn

-Willowclaw, a lean grey she-cat with green eyes - Daughter of Sorrelshine + Flytail, Sister of Webfoot

-Webfoot, a wiry dark grey tabby tom with amber eyes - Son of Sorrelshine + Flytail, Brother of Willowclaw

APPRENTICES: Runningpaw, a pale grey tabby she-cat with a white jaw and throat - Daughter of Rabbitear + a loner

CARETAKERS:

QUEENS: Morningflower, a pretty calico she-cat - Mate of Mudclaw (Mother to Mudclaw's kit: Gorsekit)

KITS: Gorsekit, a small, lean ginger and white tabby tom-kit

-Tawnykit, a lean golden-brown she-kit - Abandoned by Twolegs

ELDERS: Appledawn, a pale cream tabby she-cat with amber eyes - Mate of Larksplash, Adoptive Mother of Whitetail

-Hareflight, a light brown tom

-Crowfur, a skinny black tom with chronic rib pain

-Meadowslip, a light grey she-cat with dark amber eyes

 

RiverClan

LEADER: Crookedstar, a large, broad-shouldered light brown tabby tom with a disfigured, twisted jaw

DEPUTY: Leopardfur, a golden she-cat with dark brown spots

MEDICINE CAT(S): Mudfur, a large, pale dusty-brown tom with long fur

SENIOR WARRIORS: Beetlenose, a black tom with amber eyes - Father of Greenflower

-Softwing, a small, lithe white and pale golden-brown tabby she-cat - Daughter of a RC cat + Rippleclaw, Sister of Whitefang

-Reedtail, a pale grey tabby tom with a long, thin tail - Mate of Mallowtail

WARRIORS: Blackclaw, a broad-shouldered black tom (Apprentice: Heavypaw)

-Loudbelly, a dark brown tom - Mate of Greenflower

-Dawnbright, a ginger and white tabby she-cat

-Stonefur, a lean, strong light grey tom with blue eyes (Apprentice: Shadepaw) - Adoptive Son of Voleclaw

-Silverstream, a beautiful silver she-cat with dark grey tabby stripes

-Grasswhisker, a brown she-cat with tabby stripes everywhere but her back - Sister of Greenflower

-Sedgecreek, a pale brown tabby she-cat with a long tail

-Ottersplash, a sleek pale ginger she-cat with white patches and a torn ear (StarClan)

-Petaldust, a tortie she-cat with green eyes (StarClan)

-Vixenleap, a black she-cat with dark amber eyes - Sister of Greenflower

-Skyheart, a lithe, pale dusty-brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes and torn ears

-Frogleap, a muscular grey tom with a striped tail and amber eyes - Mate of Emberdawn

-Mosspelt, a lithe tortie-and-white she-cat with blue eyes - Daughter of rogues

APPRENTICES: Heavypaw, a broad-shouldered brown tabby tom with yellow eyes - Son of a loner

-Shadepaw, a dark bluish-grey she-cat - Daughter of a loner

CARETAKERS: Greenflower, a pretty, plump brown tabby she-cat - Daughter of Sunfish + Beetlenose, Sister of Grasswhisker, Vixenleap, + Whiteclaw, Mate of Loudbelly

QUEENS: Mistyfoot, a bluish-grey she-cat with lighter paws and blue eyes - Adoptive Daughter of Voleclaw (Mother to Blackclaw's kits: Primrosekit + Pikekit)

-Mallowtail, a tortie-and-white tabby she-cat with greenish-blue eyes - Mate of Reedtail, Mother to Dawnkit + Duskkit (Mother to Reedtail's kits: Dawnkit + Duskkit)

-Emberdawn, a she-cat whose pelt is multiple shades of ginger - Mate of Frogleap, Mother to Woodkit + Robinkit (Mother to Frogleap's kits: Woodkit + Robinkit)

KITS: Primrosekit, a pale creamy-brown she-kit with blue eyes

-Pikekit, a dark grey tom-kit with darker spots and blue eyes

-Dawnkit, a very pale grey she-kit with pretty blue eyes - Daughter of Mallowtail + Reedtail, Sister of Duskkit

-Duskkit, a dusky-brown tabby she-kit - Daughter of Mallowtail + Reedtail, Sister of Dawnkit

-Woodkit, a dark grey tabby tom-kit - Son of Emberdawn

-Robinkit, a brown and ginger tom-kit - Son of Emberdawn

ELDERS: Lakeshine, a beautiful, long-haired light grey and white she-cat

-Greypool, a grey she-cat (retired early due to dementia) - Mate of Voleclaw (dead)

-Lilystem, a pale grey tabby she-cat - Mate of a loner

-Birdsong, a brown and white tabby she-cat with a ginger-flecked muzzle - Mother of Owlfur

-Owlfur, a sleek brown and white tom with a small head - Son of Birdsong + Tanglewhisker

Chapter 3: Chapter 1

The icy wind whirled snowflakes into Fireheart’s face as he struggled down the ravine towards the ThunderClan camp, the mice he had killed gripped firmly in his jaws. He could hardly see where he was going through the flurry.

The thick clouds overhead hid the sky from Fireheart’s searching eyes, but he knew it was late afternoon. Anticipation stirred in his belly for that night’s Gathering. A whole moon had passed since ShadowClan and RiverClan had tried to drive WindClan from the moor, and he wanted to see how they would justify themselves for what they had done.

The clearing was empty when he pushed his way in, apart from the prisoner Brokentail and his guard, Mousefur. A few of the warriors would be on hunting patrol, but the rest preferred to shelter inside their dens when the snow was so thick. Fireheart padded down the path where the drift had been cleared away and dropped his catch on the fresh-kill pile. It was satisfyingly full; ThunderClan’s territory had remained prey-plentiful this leaf-bare, even when the other Clans struggled to find anything to eat.

He had turned to head back out when he heard his name ring out across the camp. “Fireheart!” Tigerclaw was sticking his head out of the warrior’s den.

Fireheart headed across to him, not bothering to hide the stiffness in his shoulders. Ever since he’d openly revealed to Tigerclaw that he knew how Redtail had really died, the deputy had been treating him with increasing hostility. He halted a tail-length away and lifted his chin. “What?”

Tigerclaw curled his lip. “You don’t need to go back out today,” he growled. “Bluestar wants you to attend the Gathering.”

He felt a flicker of excitement beneath the dislike.

Darkstripe appeared beside Tigerclaw. “Just make sure you remember which Clan you belong to,” he sneered.

Fireheart bristled. “I’m a ThunderClan warrior.”

“You let that RiverClan she-cat go during the battle,” retorted Darkstripe. “I saw you.”

“I think your mind is playing tricks on you,” sniffed Fireheart.

“Whatever, kittypet.” Darkstripe withdrew with a snarl.

Tigerclaw lowered his voice so it was no more than a murmur. “Don’t forget what I said to you about Redtail,” he hissed, then backed into the den.

Fireheart watched him go through narrowed eyes. When he had confronted Tigerclaw after the battle, the great warrior had threatened to kill him and everyone he cared about. The violent words made his heartbeat falter every time he remembered them. It was easier said than done to convince Bluestar that her strong, courageous deputy was a murderer without raising said deputy’s suspicion.

“What in StarClan’s name are you doing picking a fight with Tigerclaw and Darkstripe like that?” Greystripe appeared by his side. “They’ll turn you into crowfood!”

“No one has the right to call me disloyal,” argued Fireheart.

Greystripe bent his head and gave his chest fur a few quick licks. “I’m sorry. I know this is all because of Silverstream and I-”

“No, it isn’t,” he interrupted. “Tigerclaw hates me because I know he murdered Redtail. It’s nothing to do with you.” He shook his pelt, scattering the snow that had collected on the hairs. “Where did you come from, anyway? I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“I stepped on a thorn earlier,” the grey warrior told him. “Yellowfang let Cinderpaw take it out for me.”

Fireheart’s apprentice, Cinderpaw, had been hit by a monster on the Thunderpath a moon ago, leaving her with a permanent limp. Her leg had healed as much as it ever would by now, but she had been content to linger in the medicine den and learn about herbs and healing from Yellowfang.

“Are you going to the Gathering?” he asked.

Greystripe hummed his assent. Without having to speak, they trotted over to the fresh-kill pile, picked out their meal, and pushed into the warrior’s den. Most of the cats inside were asleep, save for a few that were sharing tongues with their companions. Fireheart settled down in his nest and took a bite of his vole.

After they had rekindled their friendship, Greystripe had managed to persuade Mousefur into swapping back their sleeping spots. He lay there now, munching on a shrew.

Fireheart swallowed his last mouthful. “I wonder what news we’ll hear tonight,” he murmured. “I hope RiverClan and ShadowClan have learned their lesson - WindClan won’t be driven out again.”

Greystripe shifted uncomfortably. “The battle wasn’t just greed for territory on RiverClan’s end,” he pointed out. “They’ve been really struggling to find enough to eat ever since the Twolegs made camp by the river.”

“I know.” Fireheart flicked his ears in reluctant sympathy, understanding that his friend would want to defend his mate’s Clan. “But forcing WindClan out isn’t the answer.”

A rustle at the den entrance alerted them to Longtail’s arrival. The lean tabby tom wove through the sleeping cats to huddle with Tigerclaw and Darkstripe in the centre. Fireheart watched them with slitted eyes and wished he could make out their conversation. It was too easy to imagine they were plotting against him.

“What’s the matter?” Greystripe rolled onto his side.

Fireheart shifted among the moss. “I don’t trust them,” he murmured, flicking his ears in their direction.

“I don’t blame you,” whispered Greystripe. “If they ever found out about Silverstream…” He shuddered.

He strained his ears in an attempt to listen in. Tigerclaw muttered something that sounded like his name and he was tempted to creep closer, but just then he caught Longtail’s eye.

“What are you staring at, kittypet?” the warrior growled. “ThunderClan only wants loyal cats.” He deliberately turned his back.

Fireheart sprang to his paws. “Question my loyalty one more time!” he hissed, earning them stares from the others around them.

Longtail ignored him.

“That does it!” Fireheart meowed in a fierce undertone to Greystripe. “It’s obvious that Tigerclaw’s spreading rumours about me.”

“Just like he did to Ravenpaw.”

Greystripe was right; before their old denmate had fled the forest, the deputy had hinted at Ravenpaw being a traitor to turn the Clan against him. It seemed now that the same thing was happening to Fireheart.

The news didn’t frighten him. In fact, it pushed a new idea to appear in his mind. “I need to talk to Ravenpaw. He might remember something else about the fight with RiverClan the day that Redtail died, something I can use to convince Bluestar.”

“But he lives with Barley now beyond WindClan’s territory. How would you explain being gone from camp for so long? It would only make Tigerclaw’s lies sound like the truth.”

Fireheart knew he was willing to take that risk. He had never thought to ask Ravenpaw for any details surrounding his father’s murder, but the information might be useful now. “I’ll go tonight,” he responded softly. “I can slip away after the Gathering. If I run as fast as I can and return with fresh-kill, I can say I’ve been night-hunting.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” Greystripe closed his eyes briefly. “I know I said I don’t want to be involved in any of this…I can’t let you cross WindClan territory alone. I’m coming with you.”

****

The snow had stopped and the clouds had cleared away by the time the ThunderClan cats descended the slope of Fourtrees. The crunchy layer of tiny flakes, dotted with many pawprints, shimmered in the glow of the full moon.

Fireheart padded towards the attending WindClan cats. They kept well away from their ShadowClan and RiverClan counterparts, who reacted to the spits and glares with snarls of their own. Tallstar rose to greet Bluestar when before he had been firmly ignoring Crookedstar and Nightstar, and Darkstripe ‘accidentally’ stepped on a RiverClan tom’s tail as he passed. Only the medicine cats appeared exempt from the tension; Yellowfang sat down beside Runningnose and Mudfur had been talking with Barkface.

Greystripe stiffened beside Fireheart. He was gazing across the hollow at Silverstream. The silver she-cat’s gaze swept over him with hostility, yet Fireheart knew it was an act. She was just as eager to see Greystripe as he was to see her.

“If you’re going to talk to her tonight, be careful who sees you,” he warned.

“Don’t worry,” Greystripe reassured him. He split from Fireheart and vanished into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. A heartbeat later, Silverstream followed.

Fireheart noticed Mistyfoot watching her go with an unreadable expression and suddenly wondered if Silverstream had confided in any of her own Clanmates about her relationship.

He had been heading for his friend in WindClan, Onewhisker, but now he saw the warrior was talking with Longtail, and he was the last cat Fireheart wanted to spend the Gathering with. He veered sharply away and found a spot near a group of elders from all four Clans.

“Do you remember the leaf-bare of ThunderClan’s Great Hunger?” a skinny WindClan cat was saying. Long scars stretched across his ribs.

“I’d only just become a warrior,” Smallear responded. “But I still feel the pain of starvation as if it were yesterday. Prey had never been so scarce. We had to resort to eating twigs, crowfood, and kittypet pellets.”

“Young warriors today,” the old WindClan elder added with a glance at Fireheart. “They don’t know what hardship is.”

“Hold on a moment, Crowfur,” Halftail protested. “It was only ThunderClan that suffered through the Great Hunter. You and your Clanmates fared just fine.”

“Well, you weren’t even born then,” Crowfur shot back, despite the amusement that showed on his face. “What do you know?”

They all dissolved into purrs of laughter, even Birdsong and Hollyflower from RiverClan and ShadowClan. Fireheart was surprised that cats from enemy Clans could sit together without any anger. Then he supposed that they were elders. They would’ve been friends through plenty of similar conflicts.

“The coldest it’s ever been since then was the season that Bluestar’s kits died,” Smallear went on thoughtfully.

Before he could say anything else, Crowfur reverted to his complaints again. “These warriors today would never cope. We were tougher back then.”

“We have strong warriors now,” Fireheart cut in, offended.

“Who asked your opinion?” growled the old tom. “You’re hardly more than a kit!”

“I-” Fireheart was interrupted by a commanding yowl. The four leaders stood on top of the Great Rock, silhouetted in the moonlight.

“The meeting’s about to start,” Halftail hushed them, then twitched his whiskers at Fireheart. “Take no notice of Crowfur,” he meowed. “He’d find fault with StarClan.”

Crookedstar began by reporting the births of three separate litters birthed to Mistyfoot, Mallowtail, and Emberdawn. “All of the kits are healthy and strong,” he meowed.

“And the queens?” Bluestar asked mildly.

The RiverClan leader met her gaze with an unreadable expression. “They are all fine.”

Nightstar stepped forward next to announce that ShadowClan too had new kits. “Rowankit, Cedarkit, Lavenderkit, and Kinkkit have been born to Darkflower.”

He backed up to make room for Bluestar, who moved forward and took his place. “Prey is plentiful in ThunderClan,” she declared. “We seem to have escaped the worst consequences of leaf-bare this time around.” She paused. “Shortly after the last Gathering, Brokenstar and his followers attacked our camp, joined by two other rogues they must have recruited. Thankfully, we managed to chase them away and kill Clawface during the battle.”

Shocked murmurs rose up from the listening cats. Everyone had assumed the banished ShadowClan warriors wouldn’t cause any more trouble after their exile. How wrong we were, Fireheart thought. He noticed Cinderfur, the deputy of ShadowClan, hunched over by the Great Rock, and recalled learning not long ago that Clawface had been his father.

“Where are they now?” Doespring of WindClan called.

Bluestar shook her head. “We can only assume they have fled the forest for good this time. Brokenstar was blinded in the fighting - he is in no state to lead them into more battles.”

Fireheart noticed and wasn’t surprised by how she avoided mentioning Brokentail’s imprisonment. The response from the other Clans that they were giving him shelter and fresh-kill would not be a pleasant one.

Finally, Tallstar reported his news. Thinly-veiled anger tinged in his voice as he spoke. “WindClan has taken in an abandoned kit left on the moor.” He stared down at the warriors below. “We have named her Tawnykit. She was sick with whitecough when we found her, but she has recovered now. Since the last full moon, one of our elders, Hickorynose, has succumbed to his old age. He walks in StarClan now and watches over us.”

Fireheart bowed his head respectfully, even though his thoughts were focused on the new addition to WindClan. He could easily guess that her new Clanmates hadn’t been as resistant to the idea of adopting her as his own had been towards his sister’s son, Cloudkit.

Tallstar waited for an appropriate length of time, then gave a sharp hiss. “Would you like to explain why exactly you invaded the moorland? At least you, Crookedstar, have the excuse of suffering from lack of food - your warriors are as skinny as a starving fox - but all of ShadowClan look just fine. So, Nightstar? Are your hunting grounds more prey-poor than they look, or have you decided to follow in Brokenstar’s pawsteps?”

Nightstar bristled with fury. “I am nothing like Brokenstar!”

“Really?” Tallstar retorted. “You were his mentor. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s you he learned his cruelty from.”

Sharp claws unsheathed and dug against the stone. Bluestar moved between them. “Why did you attack WindClan, Nightstar?”

Nightstar lifted his chin. “My Clan suffered a bout of hunger,” he growled stiffly. “I believed that we would need extra territory to supply enough fresh-kill to feed everyone. Now that the prey has returned, that is no longer necessary.” He dipped his head. “ShadowClan will not take such drastic measures again.”

Fireheart had a strange feeling that they weren’t receiving the entire truth. Tallstar narrowed his eyes and turned to Crookedstar. “What about you? Do you swear to stay within your borders? Haven’t you learned that WindClan will not be defeated so easily again?”

Crookedstar’s ears went flat back and the fur rose on his shoulders. Fireheart knew he wouldn’t be so quick to back down as Nightstar had due to how the Twolegs were still preventing RiverClan from catching enough fish, but surely it was obvious that he couldn’t go against both WindClan and ThunderClan on his own?

“Very well,” he answered after a long, tense moment.

“Good.” Tallstar nodded to his peers. “This Gathering is over.”

Fireheart looked around for Greystripe as soon as the leaders leaped down from the Great Rock. He spotted the tom bounding towards him almost right away. “Are you ready to go?” he murmured.

“To go and see Ravenpaw, you mean?”

“Not so loud!” Fireheart hissed.

“Yes, I’m ready,” whispered Greystripe. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it though. Why can’t Ravenpaw live somewhere closer, where we can visit him without trekking across the uplands?”

“Because then he’d either be a kittypet or in one of the other Clans. Come on.”

Fourtrees was still crowded with cats preparing to leave in four directions. No one paid any attention to Fireheart and Greystripe until they had almost reached the slope that led up to the moorland. A voice sounded behind them.

“Where are you going?” It was Sandstorm.

“Er…” Fireheart exchanged a desperate glance with Greystripe. “We’re saying good-bye to Onewhisker,” he improvised. “And then we’re going to take the long way home. I overheard a ShadowClan cat talking about a warren of young rabbits just inside our territory. We thought we would take the chance to practise hunting in the dark.” Suddenly alarmed by the idea that she would offer to come with them, he added, “Will you tell Bluestar where we’ve gone?”

“Sure.” Sandstorm stretched her jaws in a yawn. “I’ll think about you dashing after rabbits while I’m curled up in a nice warm nest!” She turned away with a flick of her tail.

Fireheart was relieved she hadn’t pressed the subject further; he hated lying to her. They concealed themselves in the shadows until the WindClan party had vanished over the rim of the hollow, then dashed up the ridge and dived into the shelter of a rocky overhang. Once they were sure they hadn’t been seen, they crept out into the open and set out at a run.

He fixed his mouth in a firm line as they crossed the hills. This was the only way to find out the truth, not just for Redtail and Ravenpaw, but for the whole Clan. Tigerclaw had to be stopped before he had the chance to strike again.

Chapter 4: Chapter 2

Fireheart pressed his belly to the snow-covered ground and wriggled under the fence. The barn stood ahead of him, bathed in darkness beside the Twoleg den. A dog barked somewhere nearby, and he recalled how Barley had told him they roamed free during the night. He kept his ears pricked for any signs of the territorial creatures.

“Shall we just go inside?” Greystripe dragged himself under the slat and nodded to the barn.

“I think so,” Fireheart murmured. They bounded down the icy path and halted in front of the huge red building. The doors were closed and far too heavy to open, but there was a gap at the bottom where the wood had rotted away. He and Greystripe slipped through and into the barn.

Moonlight filtered through small windows in the roof. Bales of hay sat among the piles of boxes and crates, and loose piles were scattered around the floor. Ravenpaw and Barley were asleep on top of one of the bales, pressed together in an embrace. The fluffier tom had his tail wrapped around the former ThunderClan cat, who had his head resting on the former’s shoulder. Fireheart and Greystripe exchanged an amused glance - it seemed the two barn cats had grown close.

“Ravenpaw!” Greystripe called softly. “Barley!”

They stirred at the sound of their names. Ravenpaw lifted his head and blinked blearily. “Hm?”

Fireheart lifted his tail. “It’s us.”

“Fireheart? Greystripe?” Ravenpaw rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Fireheart felt a glimmer of delight at seeing his old friend. “We’re sorry for visiting in the middle of the night, but this was the only time we could come.”

The black tom sprang down from the bale as Barley pulled himself into a sitting position. “It’s great to see you,” he purred. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk to you,” Greystripe told him.

“And quickly,” Fireheart added. “We need to get back to camp before dawn.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Feel free to hunt.” Barley gave the visitors a friendly nod and squeezed out under the door.

Greystripe twitched his ear. “Hunt? Really?”

“Of course,” replied Ravenpaw. “Look, why don’t you eat first? Then you can tell me why you’re here.”

****

“I know Tigerclaw killed Redtail,” Ravenpaw insisted. “I was there and I saw him do it.”

The three cats were crouched in a pile of hay at the very back of the barn. Hunting had not taken very long; the building seemed to be overflowing with mice. Now Fireheart was warm and his stomach comfortably full. He would’ve liked to curl up and sleep in the soft, fragrant strands, but he knew they had to talk to Ravenpaw right away if they were to return to their territory without arousing suspicion.

“Tell us everything you remember,” he urged. “Right from the very beginning.”

Ravenpaw stared into the distance, his eyes dark as he journeyed back to the fateful battle. Fireheart could see his confidence beginning to ebb - the cat was losing himself in his memories, reliving the fear and burden of what he knew.

“We came out of the bushes to see five RiverClan cats at Sunningrocks,” he began. “My father challenged Oakheart for trespassing, and then the fight started. We were outnumbered but managing to hold our own when I was injured in the shoulder. I hid in a crack in the rock to gather myself as Father attacked someone. I think it was that tom called Stonefur. Anyway, Stonefur was pinned down and about to receive a serious injury when Oakheart came out of nowhere. He dragged Father away, who asked him if RiverClan warriors were unable to fight their own battles. Then Oakheart said a strange thing.”

“What was it?” Fireheart prompted.

“‘No ThunderClan cat should ever harm that warrior’.”

Greystripe narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t make sense. Are you sure you heard him right?”

“Positive.”

“But the Clans fight all the time,” murmured Fireheart. “What’s so special about Stonefur?”

Ravenpaw twitched his ear. “I don’t know.”

“So what did Redtail do after Oakheart said that?” asked Greystripe.

“He flew at Oakheart and bowled him off his paws, right underneath an overhang. I…I couldn’t see them, although I could hear them snarling. And then there was a rumbling sound, and the rock collapsed on top of them.” He paused, trembling. “Oakheart shrieked and Tigerclaw told me to go back to camp. I ran off and I’d only gone a little way when I realised I had no idea if Father was alright after the rockfall, so I turned back. All of the RiverClan cats had run away by then. My father charged out of the dust. He was covered in dirt and his fur stood on end, but he wasn’t hurt. He ran straight into Tigerclaw, who was in the shadows.”

“And was that when…” Greystripe pelt bristled.

“Yes.” Ravenpaw closed his eyes. “Tigerclaw grabbed him and forced him down. Father struggled even though he couldn’t break free. And…” His voice shook. “Tigerclaw sank his teeth into his neck and it was all over.”

Fireheart moved closer and pressed his body against Ravenpaw’s. “Oakheart died when the rocks fell on him. It was an accident,” he murmured. “No one killed him.”

“That still doesn’t prove Tigerclaw murdered Redtail,” Greystripe pointed out. “I don’t see how any of this helps us at all.”

For a moment, Fireheart stared at him, discouraged. Then he sat up abruptly. “Yes, it does. If we can prove the rockfall story, it shows that Tigerclaw lied about killing Oakheart in revenge for Redtail’s death.”

“Just a minute,” interrupted Greystripe. “Ravenpaw, you never said anything about falling rocks in the past. You made it sound like Redtail killed Oakheart.”

“Did I?” Ravenpaw stared at him. “I didn’t mean to. This is what really happened, I promise.”

Fireheart flicked his tail in excitement. “That’s why Bluestar wouldn’t listen to me. She couldn’t believe that Redtail would’ve killed another deputy, but he didn’t. She has to take me seriously now!” His mind was whirling with everything they’d discovered. “We have to go back so we can tell her what we’ve learned.”

“Hold on,” Greystripe flicked his tail. “It’s been moons since we’ve seen Ravenpaw. Catching up won’t take long.” He nudged the black tom teasingly. “So, you and Barley, huh? How’d that happen?”

Ravenpaw flushed and looked away. “I’m not really sure. We spent lots of time together and got to know each other. He helped me heal from everything that happened in ThunderClan, and I listened to what he’s been through. Eventually, we just…realised our feelings.”

Fireheart purred. “You’re not the only one with a mate. Greystripe here has been sneaking out to see a RiverClan cat.”

Ravenpaw gaped at them. “A RiverClan cat?? That’s against the warrior code!”

“Yes, and Fireheart doesn’t let me forget it!” Greystripe snorted.

“Well?” Ravenpaw pressed. “Who is it? What’s she like?”

“Her name is Silverstream.” His yellow gaze shone. “She’s Crookedstar’s daughter. She’s brave and clever and a great swimmer, and so beautiful.”

“Crookedstar’s daughter!” echoed Ravenpaw. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, Greystripe. I just hope you don’t get caught. Does any of the Clan know?”

“Only Fireheart.”

He twitched his whiskers. “How is my other father? And Dustpelt and Sandstorm? Are they well?”

Fireheart dipped his head. “They’re all doing fine.”

Ravenpaw sighed and shifted in the hay. “I don’t regret leaving ThunderClan, but I wish they could know I was still alive. I miss them.” They crouched in silence for a few moments until Ravenpaw rose to his paws. “You’ll need to be leaving now if you want to get home before sunrise. It’s quite a trek across the moor.”

Fireheart and Greystripe stood too. “It’s been great seeing you again,” meowed Fireheart. He brushed his muzzle against Ravenpaw’s, as did Greystripe.

“Likewise,” responded the black tom. “Watch out for Tigerclaw.”

“Take care!” Greystripe called over his shoulder.

The friends slid under the door and ventured out into the snow. They broke into a sprint, and soon they were racing across the moorland. The moon was descending the lightening sky; before long, the first rays of sunlight would appear over the horizon. The chill penetrated Fireheart’s fur, even colder after the warmth of the barn. His legs ached with weariness and all he wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Ravenpaw had told them. How could he accuse Tigerclaw again with nothing to back up his words?

“RiverClan would know,” he concluded aloud as they vaulted over a rocky ridge.

“Know what?” panted Greystripe.

“How Oakheart died,” replied Fireheart. “They would’ve collected his body after the fight. They’d be able to tell us whether he died from being crushed by rocks or killed by another cat.”

Greystripe jerked his head in agreement.

“And they might know what Oakheart meant when he said no ThunderClan cat should hurt Stonefur,” he added. “We need to speak to a RiverClan warrior that fought in the battle, maybe even Stonefur himself.”

“But you can’t just walk into their camp and ask,” Greystripe protested. “They’d claw our pelts off before they ever listened to what you have to say.”

“I know one of them that’d welcome you.”

“If you mean Silverstream then yes, I could ask her. Now can we please get back to camp before my ear-tips freeze off?”

The slightest hint of the sun glinted in the distance when they scrambled down the ravine and through the gorse tunnel. It wasn’t until Fireheart saw Tigerclaw sitting in the centre of the clearing, his amber stare gleaming with triumph, that he realised they were supposed to have been hunting.

“Maybe you’d like to tell me where you’ve been?” the deputy growled. “And why you both smell of fresh-kill?”

Chapter 5: Chapter 3

“Well?” Tigerclaw challenged.

“We thought we’d take the chance to practise hunting in the darkness, but we couldn’t find anything.” Fireheart lifted his chin.

“Was all the prey curled up in their nests?” The great tabby flattened his ears. “Then how is it you two smell of mouse?”

Fireheart exchanged a glance with Greystripe. It seemed like a long time since they’d eaten the mice in Ravenpaw and Barley’s barn, and he had forgotten that they might still be carrying the scent of their meal. Greystripe stared back at him helplessly.

“Bluestar should hear about this,” Tigerclaw growled. “Follow me.”

They had no choice but to follow the deputy towards the Highrock and through the curtain of lichen that concealed the leader’s den. Bluestar was curled up in her nest of moss. She lifted her head as they entered.

“What is it, Tigerclaw?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

“These two brave warriors have been out hunting.” Tigerclaw’s voice was thick with contempt. “They’re full-fed but haven't brought back a single piece of fresh-kill for the Clan.”

“Is this true?” Bluestar pulled herself up.

“We weren’t on a hunting patrol,” mumbled Greystripe.

Fireheart knew that, technically speaking, they hadn’t broken the warrior code by feeding themselves, but he still felt a prickle of shame anyway. “We ate the first prey we caught to keep up our strength,” he lied. “We couldn’t find anything else after that. It was our plan to bring back something for the rest of the Clan, I swear.”

Tigerclaw snorted in disgust, as if he didn’t believe a word Fireheart had said.

“Even so,” meowed Bluestar. “Everyone should be thinking of the Clan before themself and share what they have. I’m disappointed in both of you.”

Fireheart hung his head. He hated lying to her - if Tigerclaw wasn’t there, he would’ve told her where they’d really been, but the tom’s furious glare kept his mouth shut. Besides, he wasn’t yet ready to share Ravenpaw’s news about Oakheart’s death. He wanted to talk with a RiverClan cat first.

Bluestar flicked her tail thoughtfully. “On other matters, Greystripe, I want you to make a trip to the Moonstone with Brackenpaw the day after tomorrow. I think it’s high time he shared dreams with StarClan.”

“Really?” Greystripe pricked his ears. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Although he was happy for the apprentice, Fireheart couldn’t suppress the wish that he and Cinderpaw were going with them. If it weren’t for the she-cat’s injury, he was sure they’d be journeying to Highstones too.

Tigerclaw stared at the leader. “Will you punish them? They fed themselves before the Clan.”

She spoke mildly, “They haven’t disobeyed any rules by eating in the forest. It wouldn’t be fair to punish them for it, and I am nothing if not fair.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again and curtly dipped his head. He turned and stalked out of the den, and when Bluestar lay back down, Fireheart and Greystripe did too.

“I thought she’d have our tails for sure!” Greystripe’s fur was fluffed up in fear and embarrassment.

“Then you should think yourselves lucky.” Tigerclaw halted and loomed over them. “If I were Clan leader, I’d have you on tick duty for a moon.”

Fireheart bristled and drew his lips back in a snarl. Greystripe nudged him away and they padded past the tabby.

“That’s right, kittypet,” jeered Tigerclaw. “Slink back to your nest.” He overtook them in a few long strides and pushed into the warrior’s den.

Greystripe released a shaky breath. “Fireheart,” he murmured. “You’re either the bravest cat in all the Clans or raving mad! For StarClan’s sake, don’t wind Tigerclaw up any more.”

“If he doesn’t want me to hate him, then he shouldn’t have killed his own Clanmate!” Fireheart pointed out. He slid through the entrance to see Tigerclaw settling down to sleep. Goldenflower shifted over to make room for him in their spot, and soon her golden tabby pelt melted into his dark brown one.

Fireheart made for his own nest. Sandstorm and Dustpelt were stretched out together less than a tail-length away,

Sandstorm sat up as he approached. “Tigerclaw has been watching for you ever since we got back from the Gathering,” she whispered. “I told him where you’d gone, but I don’t think he believed me. What did you do to tweak his whiskers?”

A huge yawn stretched his jaws. “Sorry, Sandstorm,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.” Too late, he realised she might be offended by the way he’d brushed her off.

Instead of snapping angrily, she got up and dragged her nest closer. He flopped down and felt her back brush his as he tucked his muzzle under his forepaws. Dustpelt eyed them with disgust and turned his back, but Fireheart was too tired to be irritated by the warrior’s glare. Moments later, he was already asleep.

****

“Fireheart.”

A large paw prodded him in the ribs. He tried to duck away and heard his name spoken again. It was Greystripe’s voice. He forced open his eyes and saw his friend standing over him.

“Fireheart,” he repeated. “Wake up. Tigerclaw’s assigned us to a hunting patrol.”

Grunting with effort, Fireheart heaved himself up. Mid-morning light filtered through the roof of the warrior’s den and dappled the ground. Goldenflower and Darkstripe were still sleeping, but everyone else was gone.

He gave himself a quick wash and followed Greystripe out of the den. In the camp, most of the few cats who weren’t on patrol were busying themselves about the clearing: Longtail was showing Swiftpaw how to weave brambles into the gorse wall, Speckletail was changing the moss and feathers that the queens and kits slept on, and Runningwind was dragging away a branch that had broken off a tree during the night.

Sandstorm and Brackenpaw were waiting for them by the Highrock. As they approached, Cloudkit burst from the nursery and raced across the camp.

“Fireheart!” he yowled. “Fireheart, catch!”

He halted and batted a moss-ball at him with such force that Fireheart had to jerk his muzzle back to grab it. Cloudkit dropped into a crouch, tail flicking back and forth.

Fireheart purred and tossed it back at him. The kit leaped up and immediately threw it to Greystripe, but Sandstorm snatched it out of the air before the grey warrior could. She backed away with a playful hiss. Fireheart tackled her, biting down on the ball as they tumbled across the earth, and hurled it to Greystripe.

The tom danced away from Cloudkit and passed it to Brackenpaw, who threw it at Fireheart. Cloudkit chased after it with squeals of delight. When Greystripe caught it again, he tilted back his muzzle and held it out of the young cat’s reach.

“Cloudkit!” Sandstorm pressed her belly to the ground.

Cloudkit charged towards her and vaulted onto her back. Without pausing, he used the added height to spring at Greystripe and cling to his shoulders. He bit down on thick grey fur.

Greystripe dropped the moss and pretended to collapse. Cloudkit battered his body with kicks until his victim gave a fake howl. The ball rolled away from the wrestling cats, stopping when it bumped into Tigerclaw’s paw.

“Careful,” he meowed. “You wouldn’t want to lose such a precious plaything.”

The deputy’s gaze was fixed on Fireheart even though the words were directed to Cloudkit. He swallowed. It had clearly been a threat, but surely not even Tigerclaw would harm a kit?

Brindleface’s voice sounded behind them. “Cloudkit! Come back here!”

“Coming, Mother!” Cloudkit scrambled off of Greystripe. “Bye, Fireheart!” He bounded over to the queen.

Tigerclaw narrowed his eyes at the warriors. “You’re supposed to be hunting,” he growled. “You can play with the kits later.”

“Sorry, Tigerclaw.” Sandstorm dipped her head. “We’ll go now.” She led the group towards the gorse barrier and vanished through the entrance.

Fireheart bounded up the ravine, snow crisp beneath his paws. The sun shone in a pale blue sky, and though there was little warmth in its rays, the sight of it chased away the edge of Tigerclaw’s ominous warning.

Greystripe overtook him at the top. “With any luck, the sun will bring some prey out.”

“Not if they hear you stomping along!” teased Sandstorm.

Brackenpaw defended his mentor loyally, “He doesn’t stomp!” but Greystripe only responded with a good-natured growl.

They hunted until sunhigh and returned to camp with their jaws stuffed with prey. Fireheart was placing down his rabbit on the fresh-kill pile when Bluestar lifted her head from where she was sharing tongues with Dappletail.

“Will you take that to Yellowfang in her den, Fireheart?” she called.

He nodded and swerved away towards the far end of the clearing. Emerging into the small glade, he saw the medicine cat lying by the herb stores with her paws tucked under her chest. Cinderpaw sat in front of her, her blue eyes focused.

“Now, Cinderpaw,” came the old she-cat’s rasping meow. “Whiteeye’s pawpads are cracked because of the cold. What are we going to do for her?”

She answered without hesitation. “Make sure her paws are completely clean, then apply a poultice of dock leaves and comfrey root, maybe some marigold as well to prevent infection. Put a bit of moss over the top for padding and bind with cobweb to stop it from coming off.”

“Well done,” purred Yellowfang.

Cinderpaw’s face gleamed with pride. Fireheart knew all too well that the ex-ShadowClan cat didn’t give out praise lightly.

“Right, you go and do that.”

The dark grey apprentice had collected the supplies from their piles and turned to carry them away before she spotted Fireheart. She limped over to him and dropped the herbs on the ground. “Fresh-kill!” she exclaimed. “Is that for us? Great!”

“About time, too!” grumbled Yellowfang. “Mind you, the rabbit’s very welcome. We’ve had half the Clan in here since sunrise, complaining about something or other.” She added to Cinderpaw, “If you hurry back, there might be some prey left.”

Cinderpaw purred, picked up her bundle, and brushed past him to leave the den.

Softly, Fireheart meowed, “How’s she doing? Is she settling down?”

“She’s fine,” Yellowfang snapped. “Stop worrying about her.”

Fireheart wished he could - he couldn’t suppress a twinge that as her mentor, he was partly responsible for her accident. He should’ve been able to stop her from going to the Thunderpath alone.

Then he brought himself up short. It was Tigerclaw’s fault that she had been hit by the monster. The deputy had reported finding evidence of ShadowClan trespassers by the narrowest part of the Thunderpath verge and tried to bring Bluestar there. She had been too sick to go, so Fireheart had offered to take her place after he’d collected catmint from Twolegplace, but Cinderpaw had disobeyed his orders and gone instead. Fireheart’s sister, Princess, had suggested that it had been a trap to kill the leader, and he had come to believe it himself.

As he said goodbye to Yellowfang and rejoined Greystripe and Sandstorm in the main clearing, he felt a new surge of determination to bring Tigerclaw’s crimes into the open. For the sake of Redtail, murdered; for Ravenpaw, driven from the Clan; for Cinderpaw, disabled; for all the cats, both now and to come, who were in danger from Tigerclaw’s greed for power.

Chapter 6: Chapter 4

Three days went by before Fireheart and Greystripe finally ventured into RiverClan territory. They crouched now in the cover of a circle of trees, hidden from any passers-by. Fireheart had wanted to come sooner, but Greystripe had spent the past two days journeying to Highstones and back with Brackenpaw.

He shifted impatiently and wondered what dreams StarClan had sent the apprentice. Brackenpaw hadn’t shared the details with anyone except Frostfur and Cinderpaw, not even Greystripe. He thought back to his own visit to the Moonstone moons ago. One of the battles he’d seen had already come true, and he couldn’t help wondering when the other two would as well.

“We must be mad,” Greystripe whispered. He peered towards a nearby meadow. “You were worried about me venturing just over the border to see Silverstream, and yet here we are right next to one of their main hunting spots!”

“I know,” muttered Fireheart. “But this is the only way to speak to one of them as soon as possible.”

Greystripe didn’t reply. He had stiffened and pricked his ears. “She’s here.” The breeze carried to them the fresh scent of his mate.

They crept out of the clearing and bounded towards the meadow. Fireheart flattened himself to the ground, dragged himself to the very edge of the treeline, and looked out. Three cats - Ottersplash, Silverstream, and Reedtail - were making their way across the grass. The ground sank every time they took a step and water rushed over their paws.

Fireheart held his breath as they passed. All it would take was for one of them to pick up their scent or spot his bright ginger pelt among the shadows and their plan would be ruined.

Ottersplash veered away to the other end, while Reedtail wandered a few tail-lengths away and dropped into a crouch, his eyes fixed on a frog. Silverstream opened her mouth to taste the air, then stiffened. Her ears swivelled towards the trees.

“Silverstream!” Greystripe hissed.

She twitched her tail. Fireheart breathed a sigh of relief; she had heard them. He and Greystripe retreated to the glade and sat waiting for her. A few moments later, she slipped out of the trunks.

Greystripe purred as he pressed himself against her. The two cats rubbed their faces together with obvious delight.

“I thought you only wanted to meet at Fourtrees,” Silverstream meowed at last. “What are you doing here?”

“Fireheart needs to talk to you,” Greystripe explained.

Fireheart had not interacted with Silverstream since he had let her escape during the battle in WindClan’s camp. She gazed at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. “Yes, Fireheart?”

“What do you know about the battle that Oakheart died in?” He launched straight in. “Were you there?”

“No. Is it important?”

“Very. Could you pass along my questions to someone who was?”

“I’ll do better than that. I can bring Mistyfoot here to talk to you herself.” Silverstream exchanged a glance with Greystripe.

Fireheart hesitated. Was that a good idea?

Silverstream flicked her ear. “It’s okay. Mistyfoot knows about Greystripe and I. She doesn’t like it, but she won’t give us away. She’ll come now if I ask her.”

He reluctantly dipped his head. “Thank you.” The words had hardly left his mouth when she disappeared back down the trail.

“Isn’t she great?” murmured Greystripe.

Fireheart said nothing, only settled down to wait. His worry swelled as the minutes dragged by. The longer they stayed there, the more likely it was that they would be discovered by a patrol. “Greystripe,” he began. “If Silverstream can’t-”

He clamped his jaws shut. Silverstream re-emerged from the same spot, although this time she was accompanied by the same she-cat that he had seen at the Gathering. The newcomer stopped dead and bristled.

“Mistyfoot,” meowed Silverstream. “This is-”

“ThunderClan cats!” she growled. “What are they doing here? This is our territory!”

“Mistyfoot, listen…” Silverstream tried to nudge her forward.

The queen stood her ground. Fireheart was daunted by the hostility in her eyes. Had he been foolish to think that RiverClan would help him?

“I kept your secret about him,” Mistyfoot reminded Silverstream, jerking her muzzle at Greystripe. “But I can’t keep quiet if you start bringing the whole of ThunderClan in here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Silverstream.

Fireheart took a step forward. “We haven’t stolen any prey or come here to spy. I need to speak to a cat who fought in the same battle that Oakheart died in.”

“Why?”

“It’s…hard to explain. It’s nothing that could harm RiverClan though. I swear that on StarClan. Please, Mistyfoot. I need your help.”

Slowly, Mistyfoot moved forward and sat down opposite him at the same time Greystripe jumped up. “If you two are going to talk, Silverstream and I will leave you to it.”

“Wait, Greystripe-” Fireheart began to protest, alarmed at the idea of being left alone on enemy territory, but his friend was already gone.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Mistyfoot wrapped her tail around her paws. “I remember you. We fought at Sunningrocks.”

Fireheart thought back to when RiverClan had attempted to take the patch of land from ThunderClan. She had splashed water in his face during the fighting and blinded him just long enough to attack. “Yes.”

“You’re Fireheart, aren’t you? The former kittypet?”

The familiar sting from a Clanborn cat’s contempt at his background pierced his mind. “I am.”

Mistyfoot regarded him with piercing blue eyes for a moment. “Alright. I was part of the patrol Crookedstar sent to reclaim Sunningrocks. What do you want to know?”

He paused to put his thoughts in order. There would only be one chance to find out the truth; he couldn’t make any mistakes.

“Get on with it. I’ve left my kits to come and talk to you.”

“What can you tell me about the way Oakheart died?”

“Oakheart?” Mistyfoot gazed into the distance. “He and I were close - he was like a father to me. His death never should’ve happened. It was an accident.”

Fireheart’s heart began to pound against his chest. “Are you sure? No one killed him?”

“He was fighting with ThunderClan’s deputy, Redtail, under a ledge when it collapsed. Redtail got away, but Oakheart was buried alive. It took us all night to dig his body out when we came back for him.”

So Ravenpaw was right. Nobody was responsible. “That’s exactly what I needed to know.”

“Then if that’s all-”

“No, wait! There’s one more thing.” Fireheart stared imploringly at her. “In the battle, one of our cats heard Oakheart say that no ThunderClan cat should harm Stonefur. Do you know what he meant by that?”

Mistyfoot was silent for a while, a thoughtful look on her face. “Stonefur is my brother,” she meowed finally.

“Then Oakheart was a father figure to him too,” Fireheart guessed. “Is that why he wanted to protect him from ThunderClan?”

Her eyes flashed. “No. He never tried to protect either of us. He wanted us to be warriors like him and bring honour to the Clan.”

“Then why…?”

“I don’t know.” She sounded genuinely puzzled.

Fireheart tried not to feel disappointed. At least he had information that could help prove to Bluestar that Tigerclaw was a traitor, but he had wanted to learn about Oakheart’s words surrounding Stonefur.

“My parents could know,” declared Mistyfoot after a moment. He blinked, and she added, “Greypool and Voleclaw. If they can’t explain it, then no one can.”

“Could I speak to one of them?”

“Maybe…” Her expression was still guarded, although Fireheart could tell she was just as curious as he was. “It'd have to be Greypool. Voleclaw died a few moons ago.”

"I'm sorry." Fireheart pricked his ears. “Would you bring her here now?”

“No,” she decided. “It’s too risky for you to stay here any longer. Besides, Greypool isn’t the kind of cat you can just talk to. She has something wrong with her memory and spends most of her days thinking it’s the past. It’s why she retired to the elder’s den early. You’ll have to wait until she’s lucid.”

“How long will that take?”

“It could be days or it could be moons.”

Alarm coursed through him. “Moons?? I can’t wait that long!”

Her eyes sharpened. “Why not? Is there something going on in ThunderClan?”

“Of course not.” He stared back at her. “How will I know when to meet her?”

“I’ll send Silverstream with a message,” Mistyfoot promised. “Now go. If my Clanmates find you here, I won’t be able to help you.”

“Thank you, Mistyfoot. I won’t forget this. If there’s anything I can ever do for you-”

“Just go!” she hissed.

Fireheart spun around and darted into the trees. As he ran, he wondered whether it had been a mouse-brained idea to agree to meet with Greypool. It would mean returning to RiverClan territory yet again. If Tigerclaw finds out, I’ll be crowfood!

Then he resolved that it was necessary. A long shot, yes, but there was the slightest chance that this piece of information could help in his mission to expose Tigerclaw as the murderer he was.

Chapter 7: Chapter 5

“This is the place,” Greystripe reassured him.

A quarter-moon had gone by before Fireheart had received the news that Greypool was able to talk to him. The days had gone by with a horrible slowness, but he knew he’d gotten lucky that they hadn’t needed to wait any longer.

The two toms were sheltering under a thornbush at the edge of a deep hollow in RiverClan territory. A thin layer of snow covered the earth and a tiny stream, frozen now, carved a deep channel between two rocks. Fireheart guessed that when newleaf came, it would be a beautiful place.

He pawed the mouse in front of him. It was supposed to be a gift for Greypool, but his own hunger was tempting him to eat it himself. Sunhigh had come and gone, and he was beginning to think they weren’t coming when he heard a voice from the opposite slope.

“This is too far for my old bones. I’m going to freeze to death.”

“Nonsense, Greypool, it’s a beautiful day.” That was Silverstream. “Besides, you’re not that old.”

A snort was the only response. Three cats came into view, picking their way down the side of the hollow. Two of them were Silverstream and Mistyfoot. The other was a grey she-cat with a yellow stare and short stature.

Halfway down, she stiffened and sniffed the air. “ThunderClan!” she hissed.

Mistyfoot and Silverstream swapped a glance. “Yes, we know,” Mistyfoot soothed. “It’s alright.”

Greypool gave her a suspicious look. “What do you mean? What are they doing here?”

“They just want to talk to you,” Mistyfoot meowed. “Trust us.”

For a heartbeat, Fireheart was worried the elder would turn back to raise the alarm. Then she gave a low growl and clambered the rest of the way down into the clearing.

“Greystripe?” Silverstream called.

They wriggled out from the bush. Greypool tensed and her eyes flared with hostility.

“This is Greystripe and Fireheart,” Silverstream told her. “They-”

“Two of them,” interrupted Greypool. “There had better be a good explanation for this.”

“I need to talk to you.” Fireheart twitched his whiskers anxiously as he pushed the mouse towards her. “Here, I brought you this.”

Greypool eyed the fresh-kill. “Well, at least you remember your manners, ThunderClan or not.” She crouched down and took a bite. “Stringy, but it’ll do,” she rasped.

While she was still eating, Fireheart tried to find the right words for what he needed to say. “I want to ask you about something Oakheart said before he died,” he ventured. Greypool’s ear twitched. “In the same battle that he died in, Oakheart told Redtail that no ThunderClan cat should harm Stonefur. Do you know what he meant?”

The she-cat didn’t reply until she had swallowed the last morsel of prey. She sat up, curled her tail around her paws, and fixed a thoughtful gaze on Fireheart for so long that he thought she could see right into his mind. “You should go,” she meowed at last to her companions. “Go on, out. You too,” she added to Greystripe. “I’ll talk to Fireheart alone.”

Fireheart bit back a protest. If he insisted that Greystripe stay, she might refuse to talk at all. He looked at his friend’s expression and saw his own confusion reflected there. What did Greypool have to say that she didn’t want her own Clanmates to hear? Silverstream and Mistyfoot looked just as puzzled, but they didn’t protest and instead turned away.

“We’ll wait for you by the minnow pool,” Silverstream meowed.

“There’s no need for that,” responded Greypool. “I can find my own way home.”

They hesitated, before retracing their path back up the slope. Greystripe bounded after them.

Greypool sat in silence until their pawsteps had faded with distance. She regarded Fireheart warily. He fidgeted beneath her stare and was glad when she finally began talking. “Now listen here,” she meowed. “What I tell you today won’t reach the ears of any RiverClan cat. Do you hear me?”

He dipped his head. “I won’t tell them anything,” he promised.

“Last night, Oakheart came to me in a dream . He told me that I would have to confess an old secret and that it was necessary. I dismissed it as just that - a dream - but now I understand what he meant.” She paused. “Mistyfoot told you that I’m her mother, and Stonefur’s?”

“Yes.” Fireheart suppressed a shiver. Was it too late to change his mind? The fact that Oakheart himself was getting involved from StarClan made him wonder just how important the secret was.

“Well,” growled the elder. “I’m not.” She continued before Fireheart could speak, “I’ve raised them their entire life, but I didn’t give birth to them. Oakheart brought them to my mate and I in the middle of leaf-bare when they were just over a moon old.”

“Where did they come from?” blurted Fireheart.

Greypool narrowed her eyes. “He told me their mother couldn’t take care of them and that he had sworn not to tell anyone of their origins. We agreed to adopt them and didn’t ask anymore questions, although my nose has always worked just fine. The snow had washed away most of their smell, but not all of it. The kits carried the scent of ThunderClan.”

“What??” Fireheart was so astonished that he could hardly speak. “Are you saying that Mistyfoot and Stonefur were born in ThunderClan??”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Greypool gave her chest fur a few quick licks.

He was stunned. “Did Oakheart steal them?” he asked.

She bristled instantly. “He would never stoop to stealing kits!”

“I’m sorry.” Fireheart ducked his head. “I didn’t mean…It’s just so hard to believe!” He struggled with the knowledge she had shared with him. He never would’ve guessed that two of RiverClan’s warriors originated from his own Clan. If Oakheart hadn’t stolen them, then perhaps a rogue or loner had, but for what reason? And why abandon them so quickly? Oakheart had said that their mother couldn’t take care of them. Did that mean one of ThunderClan’s own had willingly given them up? “Who else knows about this?”

“Voleclaw did,” she answered. “The RiverClan cats who were alive when we took them in know they aren’t biologically ours, but not where they come from. I persuaded them to let us raise them to believe that they were born to us. They never doubted that I’m their mother. I like to think they even look a bit like me.”

Fireheart blinked slowly, trying to wrap his head around what Greypool had told him. What have I gotten myself into? This has nothing to do with Tigerclaw. I’ve only uncovered more secrets that need deciphering.

“They’ve always been loyal to RiverClan,” Greypool went on. “I don’t want that loyalty divided now. I know where you come from, Fireheart. You should understand better than anyone else what it means to have a paw in two places. I don’t want you to say anything that might make them question their parentage.”

“I won’t. I swear that by StarClan.”

She inclined her muzzle. “I think you know now why Oakheart didn’t want any ThunderClan cats to hurt Stonefur.”

“I don’t know what this means for our Clans, but I really think it’s important,” meowed Fireheart.

“It may be.” Greypool frowned. “Now that I’ve told you everything, you need to return to your own territory.”

“Of course.” He sprang to his paws and bounded in the direction of the border, then paused. “Greypool?” He held her gaze. “Thank you.”

****

Fireheart’s head was spinning as he returned to camp. Mistyfoot and Stonefur had been born in ThunderClan! That doesn’t mean they’re any less devoted to RiverClan, he reminded himself. Heritage didn’t define loyalty. His own kittypet roots didn’t make his commitment any less strong.

Perhaps now that Mistyfoot had confirmed how Oakheart had died, Bluestar would be willing to accept that Tigerclaw had killed Redtail. He decided to ask her about Greypool’s revelation too; Bluestar might be able to tell him if any kits had ever disappeared, and the RiverClan elder had only made him promise not to tell any RiverClan cats about her secret.

He made straight for the Highrock. “Bluestar,” he called through the curtain of lichen. “Can I talk to you?”

“Very well,” she answered. “Come in.”

Fireheart slipped into the den. Bluestar was washing in her nest.

She paused as he sat down. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “Do you remember the story that Ravenpaw told? When he said that Tigerclaw murdered Redtail?”

Bluestar stiffened. “Fireheart, that is over,” she growled. “I have said before that I have reasons enough to be satisfied that it isn’t true.”

“I know.” Fireheart dipped his head. “But I’ve found out something new.” She waited without speaking, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Nobody killed Oakheart - not Redtail, not Tigerclaw. He died when rocks collapsed on top of him.”

“How do you know this?”

“I…I went to see Ravenpaw,” he admitted. “After the last Gathering. He lives with Barley now, beyond WindClan territory.” He was prepared for anger at the confession, but the leader remained calm.

“So that’s why you were late,” she observed.

“I had to find out the truth,” he meowed. “And I-”

“Wait a moment,” Bluestar interrupted. “Ravenpaw told you at first that his father killed Oakheart in battle. Is he changing his story now?”

“No, not at all. I misunderstood him, that’s all. Redtail was fighting Oakheart when the accident happened, but it wasn’t his fault. And that’s what you couldn’t believe,” he reminded her. “That Redtail would deliberately kill another deputy. Besides…”

“What?”

“I went across the border and spoke to a RiverClan cat. Just to be sure. She told me that Oakheart really did die from being crushed.” Fireheart stared at his paws, bracing himself for Bluestar’s fury that he had crossed the border, but when he looked up again, there was nothing in her eyes except intense interest. He continued, “So we know for a fact that Tigerclaw lied about taking Oakheart’s life in vengeance. Doesn’t that mean he could be lying about how Redtail died as well?”

A troubled look flickered on Bluestar’s face. She released a long sigh. “Tigerclaw is a fine deputy,” she meowed. “These are serious charges.”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed quietly. “But can’t you see how dangerous he is?” He wanted to tell her about his suspicions regarding Cinderpaw’s accident too, then decided against it. He had no clear proof that it had been a trap.

Bluestar was silent for so long that he wondered if he should leave. He was about to back out of the den when she murmured, “He was always a violent apprentice.” Fireheart stared at her. “His mentor, Thistleclaw, would encourage him to unsheathe his claws during battle training and use the harshest moves he could think of. There was a time when they found a kittypet on our territory, no older than six moons. It was small for its age, and very scrawny. Thistleclaw told him to attack it, and he did. If I hadn’t come along, I don’t want to imagine how many wounds the poor thing would’ve had.” She lifted her gaze to him. “Then he became a warrior. He matured and changed. Tigerclaw stopped trying to start fights unprovoked on the borders or at Gatherings. He proved time and time again that he was loyal, brave, and strong. There were times before I became leader that I was worried he would grow to be as bloodthirsty as Thistleclaw. I was wrong.” She rested her chin on her forepaws.

Fireheart hesitated. “There’s something else,” he ventured. “Something strange about two of RiverClan’s warriors.” Bluestar lifted her head again, and that gave him the courage to go on. “Ravenpaw told me that in the same battle, Oakheart told Redtail that no ThunderClan cat should harm Stonefur. I had the chance to speak with Greypool earlier today. She told me that Oakheart brought Mistyfoot and Stonefur to her and Voleclaw when they were still kits, in the middle of leaf-bare. He wouldn’t tell her where they’d come from, but she said they…they carried the scent of ThunderClan. Could it be true? Did kits ever go missing from our camp?”

Bluestar sat up so abruptly that he flinched. “And you listened to this nonsense??” she hissed.

He recoiled. “I just thought-”

“This isn’t what I expected from you, Fireheart,” she spat. “To go into enemy territory and listen to idle gossip? To believe what a RiverClan elder tells you? You should’ve been here, carrying out your warrior duties, instead of speaking with the cats we fought with a moon ago. Maybe Tigerclaw is right to doubt your loyalty.”

“I- I’m sorry,” stammered Fireheart. “I thought Greypool was being sincere.”

She turned away from him. “Leave me. Find yourself something useful to do, and never - never - mention this to me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Bluestar. But what about Tigerclaw? He-”

“Go!” Bluestar snarled.

Fireheart’s paws slid in the sand in his haste to obey. He burst from the den and stood by the Highrock, breathing heavily. He was utterly bewildered. It had seemed she had been considering his accusations, but as soon as he’d mentioned where Mistyfoot and Stonefur had come from, she had refused to listen.

A sudden chill swept through him. What if Bluestar began to wonder how he had managed to speak with the RiverClan cats in the first place? What if she discovered Greystripe’s relationship with Silverstream? What about Tigerclaw? For a short time, Fireheart had let himself hope that he could make Bluestar see through the deputy’s lies.

Now she won’t hear another word against Tigerclaw, he thought. Oh, why did I have to push my luck?

Chapter 8: Chapter 6

Confused and unhappy, Fireheart wandered across the camp towards the medicine den. He wanted to visit Princess - she was the only one he could confide in completely - but he didn’t want to risk angering Bluestar even more. Yellowfang and Cinderpaw were the next best option, even though he couldn’t tell them what was really going on.

He bumped into Cinderpaw by the ferns. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” The heaviness in his chest eased as he looked at her. “Where are you going?”

“Yellowfang wants me to collect some herbs for her,” she explained. “As many as I can find before moonrise.”

“I’ll help you,” Fireheart offered. Bluestar had told him to do something useful, and not even Tigerclaw could find fault with gathering herbs for Yellowfang.

“Great!”

They crossed the clearing side-by-side. Fireheart had to slow his pace to match Cinderpaw’s, but if she was aware of it, she didn’t seem to mind. The shrill voices of kits caught their attention as they passed the spare den. Cloudkit, Ashkit, and Fernkit had clustered around Brokentail.

“Rogue! Murderer!” That was Cloudkit’s voice raised in a jeering meow. Fireheart watched in shock as the white tom-kit darted forwards, jabbed Brokentail with one paw, and scrambled back to safety. Fernkit copied him with a delighted squeal.

Darkstripe, whose turn it was to stand guard, made no attempt to send the kits away. He was sat a fox-length away with his paws tucked under his chest and an amused gleam in his stare.

Brokentail swung his head in their direction with a snarl of frustration; his unseeing eyes prevented him from retaliating. His tabby fur was dull and patchy and his face was scored with scars. There was no trace of the bloodthirsty leader in him now.

Fireheart swapped a glance with Cinderpaw. Many cats believed the prisoner deserved to suffer, but seeing him so helpless made pity pang in Fireheart’s belly. It quickly turned to anger the longer the tormenting went on. “Wait for me,” he growled to his companion, then hurried over to them.

Cloudkit pounced on the older cat’s tail and bit down. Brokentail scrabbled away from him on unsteady legs and swiped a paw at him. Cloudkit ducked and the strike hit Ashkit instead, sending him tumbling away.

Darkstripe leaped to his paws in an instant. “Touch my son again, fox-heart, and I’ll flay your skin into strips!”

Leaping towards Cloudkit, Fireheart grabbed him by the scruff and swung him roughly around.

He wailed in protest. “Stop it! That hurts!”

Fireheart dropped him and growled through gritted teeth. “Go home!” he ordered Ashkit and Fernkit. “Go back to the nursery. Now! As for you-” he hissed at Cloudkit.

“Leave him alone,” interrupted Darkstripe. “He’s not doing any harm.”

“Keep out of this, Darkstripe,” he retorted.

The sleek warrior barged past him and headed over to Brokentail. “Kittypet!” he sneered over his shoulder.

Fireheart tensed. As much as he wanted to leap at Darkstripe and force the insult back down his throat, he held himself in place. “Did you hear that?” he demanded, glaring down at his kin. “Kittypet?”

“So?” muttered Cloudkit mutinously. “What’s a kittypet?”

He realised then that Brindleface had not yet told her adoptive son where he had come from. “A kittypet is a cat who lives with Twolegs,” he told him. “Some Clan cats think that someone who’s born a kittypet can never be a true warrior, and that includes me, because like you, I was born in Twolegplace.”

Cloudkit stared up at him. “What are you talking about? I was born here!”

“No, you weren’t. Brindleface agreed to raise you, but your birth mother is my sister, Princess. She’s a kittypet, and she gave you to ThunderClan when you were very young so you could become a warrior.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Then, “No! Brindleface is my real mother!”

“Yes, I am.”

Fireheart looked up to see that Brindleface had appeared behind the kit. She bent her head and rasped her tongue between his ears.

“I will always be your real mother, Cloudkit,” she meowed. “I may not have given birth to you, but you are just as much my son as Ashkit is.”

Cloudkit hesitated. “We’re not kin.”

She reassured him, “That doesn’t matter. Runningwind isn’t the biological father of Dustpelt and they’re still family, aren’t they? I don’t love you any less than your brother and sister.”

“I was born a kittypet.” The shock in Cloudkit’s blue eyes had transformed into cold understanding. “So that’s why other cats keep glaring at me. They think I’ll never be any good because I wasn’t born in this dump of a forest. That’s stupid!”

Brindleface’s gaze sharpened. “Which cats?”

“Darkstripe,” he spat. “Longtail, Dustpelt, and Tigerclaw. They’re always giving me horrible looks and whispering about me.”

“I’ll have to have a word with them,” she muttered.

Fireheart struggled to find the right thing to say. He recalled how excited Princess had been when she gave her firstborn to the Clan and how she had believed Cloudkit had a wonderful life ahead of him. Now he was forcing the kit to notice the disdainful glances and prejudice. “It may be stupid, but that’s the way it is. Trust me, I know. Listen, warriors like them think being a kittypet is something to be ashamed of. I think that it just means we have to work twice as hard to prove them wrong.”

Cloudkit lifted his chin. “I’m going to be the best warrior in the Clans. I’ll fight anyone who says I’m not. I’ll be brave enough to kill rogues like Brokentail.”

Relief washed over him at Cloudkit’s determination, even though he wasn’t sure that the young tom really understood the meaning of the warrior code. “There’s more to being a warrior than killing,” he warned. “The best warrior isn’t cruel or mean. They don’t claw an enemy that can’t fight back. Where’s the honour in that?”

Brindleface nodded in agreement. Cloudkit looked between them and lowered his head.

Fireheart gazed around for Cinderpaw. The apprentice had approached Brokentail and was checking the bite on his tail. “There’s no damage,” she informed the blind prisoner. The tabby didn’t respond.

“Right, Cinderpaw,” he called once she’d turned away. “Let’s go and find those herbs.”

“Where are you going?” Cloudkit piped up, all of his old spirit restored. “Can I come?”

When Fireheart paused, Cinderpaw twitched her ear. “Oh, let him come. He only gets into trouble because he’s bored.”

“If it’s alright with Brindleface…”

The spotted she-cat pushed her son forward with one paw. “He can go if his littermates can too.”

“Of course,” Cinderpaw meowed brightly. “Ashkit, Fernkit, come here! We’re going into the woods!” The two kits darted over and bundled into Cloudkit. Their combined purrs were so loud that Fireheart had to angle his ears away from them.

Cinderpaw led them towards the camp entrance. Fireheart took up the rear, making sure that none of them straggled or were left behind. He paused to shepherd them through the gorse tunnel and looked back. Brindleface had gathered Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, Longtail, and Dustpelt in the middle of the clearing and was spitting furiously at them - her tail lashed back and forth and her eyes glinted. The latter two had the decency to look embarrassed and apologetic, but Tigerclaw’s expression was unreadable and he didn’t bow his head. Darkstripe stared at the queen with open disgust.

Keeping a watchful eye on the kits, Fireheart and Cinderpaw climbed the ravine and headed into the forest. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the ground and tinging the tree branches with a golden light. Cloudkit bounded ahead of them to compare his pelt to the shimmering snow, while Ashkit and Fernkit stalked imaginary prey.

“How will you find any herbs with all this snow?” Fireheart asked. “Won’t everything be frozen or hidden?”

“There are still berries. Yellowfang told me to look for juniper - that’s good for coughs and bellyaches - and broom to make poultices for broken bones. Oh, and alder bark for toothache.”

“Berries!” Cloudkit spun around. “We’ll find lots for you!” He called to Ashkit and Fernkit, and they dashed away.

Cinderpaw flicked her tail in amusement and headed after them. “He’s keen,” she remarked. “He’ll learn quickly once he’s apprenticed.”

Fireheart made a noncommittal noise in his throat. Cloudkit’s energy reminded him of Cinderpaw when she’d first started her training, except she never would’ve taunted a helpless cat. “Well, if he’s my apprentice, he’d better listen to me.”

“Yes?” She gave him a teasing look. “You’re a really tough mentor. All of your apprentices will be shaking in their pelts!”

He snorted and moved to cuff her around the ear. She ducked away with a purr.

“Cinderpaw!” Cloudkit’s voice sounded from ahead. “There are berries here; come and look!”

Fireheart peered through the trunks and saw the kits crouching by a bush that grew between two rocks. Instead of leaves, it had tiny needles like a pine tree. Scarlet berries grew from the twigs.

“They look tasty,” Fernkit meowed.

Cloudkit reared up and stretched his jaws wide to take a hungry mouthful.

At the same moment, a gasp tore from Cinderpaw’s mouth. To Fireheart’s amazement, she shot forward, propelling herself over the snow. “No, Cloudkit!” she yowled. She barrelled into him and bowled him over. Ashkit and Fernkit backed away from the bush, staring. Cinderpaw sat up and demanded, “Did you touch one? Did any of you touch one?” Her gaze raked over the other kits.

“N-no,” stammered Ashkit.

Cloudkit got to his paws. “I was only-”

“Look.” Cinderpaw shoved him around so his nose was only a mouse-length from the bush. Fireheart had never heard her sound so fierce. “Look but don’t touch. That’s yew. The berries are so poisonous that they’re called deathberries. Even one could kill a cat as small as you.”

His eyes were as round as the full moon. Speechless for once, he stared, horrified, at the she-cat.

“It’s alright,” she went on more gently. “It didn’t happen this time. But take a good look now so you don’t make that mistake again. And never eat anything if you don’t know what it is.”

“Yes, Cinderpaw,” the kits chorused.

“Keep searching for berries then. Come and get me as soon as you find something.”

They padded off, glancing over their shoulders once or twice. Fireheart had never seen Cloudkit so subdued. Bold as the kit was, he’d received a real shock.

“It’s good you were here, Cinderpaw,” he meowed. “You’ve learned a lot from Yellowfang.”

“She’s a good teacher,” responded Cinderpaw. She said nothing for a long moment, and then, “I’m really enjoying working with her. I know so much about herbs and healing now, and when I’m organising the stores, treating someone’s cracked pads, pulling thorns from their paws…I can forget about the rest of the world. Forget the feeling of the monster crushing my leg.” She glanced at Fireheart. “I love hunting and battle training, but I feel like the medicine den is where I’m meant to be.”

Fireheart stepped over the roots of a birch tree. “Does that mean you’re going to start training to be a medicine cat?”

“Maybe, but I could only do that if I have a connection to StarClan.” Worry flitted across her face. “What if I don’t?”

Her words made him think about his own connection to the warrior ancestors of his Clan. In the past, StarClan had sent him dreams that predicted the future, and once, Redtail’s spirit had appeared to him with a warning about Tigerclaw. “They would be fools to turn you away. Besides, you wouldn’t be the first warrior apprentice to become a medicine cat. Spottedleaf was around your age when she switched. Yellowfang had been a warrior for moons when she began her training. Hawkheart of WindClan too. They were all fine.”

“I guess so.” Cinderpaw halted. “I don’t want you to think I’m doing this because of my injury. I’m not. I know I could become a warrior with lots of adapting and training. It’s just that…well, this is what I’m supposed to do.”

Fireheart rested his tail-tip on her shoulder. “I know, and I’ll always support you no matter what. But if you ever want to go for a hunt, you just have to ask.”

Fernkit burst from the shadows then. “Cinderpaw, come and see what Cloudkit’s found!” She was gone again before Cinderpaw could respond.

“Perhaps it’s deadly nightshade this time,” joked Cinderpaw. They set off after the young kit. “Now I just have to find the right time to ask Yellowfang if she’ll take me on.”

Fireheart tried to picture her as a medicine cat for the rest of her life. The mental image came easier than he expected. He saw Cinderpaw tending to their Clanmates after a battle, visiting the Moonstone every half-moon, being taught every combination of herbs to create a poultice. Then her as a grown cat, training her own apprentice and interpreting omens from StarClan.

He smiled softly. When he’d first been appointed as her mentor, he never would’ve imagined the twists her life would take, nor that she would turn out to have such a liking for herbs. Sorrow tinged in his belly at the thought of losing his first apprentice, but it didn’t last. If this was truly what she wanted to do, then he would be happy to let her.

Chapter 9: Chapter 7

“I can’t wait for leaf-bare to end,” grumbled Mousefur around the squirrel in her mouth. She paused to shake the snow from her paws, then carried on down the ravine.

“There’s only a few weeks left until newleaf,” Goldenflower responded. “The weather will start getting warmer soon.”

“A few weeks too long,” the warrior sighed. “At least prey is plentiful this time around. And there’s only been one case of greencough as well,” she added. “We’ve gotten lucky.”

Goldenflower murmured an agreement, but Fireheart’s jaws were too stuffed with mice to reply with anything but a nod. He leaped the last tail-length and followed them through the gorse tunnel.

The afternoon sun shone down on the clearing, casting long shadows across the earth. The rest of the Clan were busying themselves about the camp; even Brightkit and Thornkit were passing twigs to the cats reinforcing the elder’s den. Dropping his catch on the fresh-kill pile, Fireheart joined Willowpelt in her work on the apprentice’s den.

“Good hunt?” she asked.

He wove a bramble into the shelter’s wall. “Very. The snow hasn’t driven any of the-” He broke off as Brindleface’s tense yowl rang out from the nursery.

The spotted she-cat shouldered her way into the open and stared around. “Cloudkit?” she called. Fireheart glanced around for his kin, but he couldn’t see the kit anywhere. A panicked note entered Brindleface’s voice. “Cloudkit?” she repeated.

“Brindleface?” Bluestar padded towards her. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been in my nest with my kits since sunhigh. Cloudkit was causing chaos all morning - tripping the warriors over, stealing the moss-balls Swiftpaw and Brackenpaw were trying to gather - so I thought a nap might do him good. He was asleep when I drifted off, but when I woke up, he was gone!”

The leader swept her gaze over her Clan. “Has anyone seen him?”

Fireheart’s mouth grew dry when everyone shook their heads. He couldn’t help thinking how Mistyfoot and Stonefur must have disappeared before ending up in RiverClan.

“I’m sure he’s okay.” Bluestar rested her tail-tip on Brindleface’s shoulder. If she was thinking the same as Fireheart, her face didn’t betray it. “I’ll send some patrols out to look for him. Do you two know anything?”

Ashkit and Fernkit had followed their mother into the clearing. Now the former was avoiding their eyes as if his life depended on it.

Brindleface’s stare sharpened. “Ashkit?” she demanded. “What do you know? Where is he?”

It took Bluestar stepping forwards before the young tom finally confessed. “I caught him leaving the den. When I asked where he was going, he told me that he was going to prove that just because he was a kittypet, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be a warrior. He was going to be the youngest cat ever to catch prey, he said.”

Muttering broke out among the listening cats. Anger and sympathy battled in Fireheart’s gut. On one paw, he understood the drive to prove yourself to be just as capable as your Clanborn peers. But on the other paw, sneaking off and putting yourself in danger wasn’t the way to do it. And it had only been a day since Cloudkit had almost eaten the deathberries!

Brindleface sheathed and unsheathed her claws. “I need to help find him. Anything can happen out there to a kit. Please, Bluestar, he’s my son-”

“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. Willowpelt,” commanded Bluestar. “Take Darkstripe, Runningwind, and Brindleface to look in the direction of the RiverClan border. Fireheart can lead Sandstorm, Greystripe, and Brackenpaw. Look towards the Thunderpath.”

Fireheart felt a brief thrill of pride stir in his gut. He’d never been put in charge of a patrol before. Perhaps Bluestar wasn’t as furious at him as he’d believed. He gathered his friends together with a sweep of his tail, and within moments, they were climbing the ravine.

“It’ll be hard to pick up his scent through the snow,” Brackenpaw murmured to himself. The apprentice bounded into the forest and paused to taste the air.

“Let’s look around and see if he’s rubbed against a tree or a plant,” suggested Fireheart.

“Good idea.” Sandstorm veered away to sniff amongst a cluster of ferns that had been killed by the cold.

Fireheart prowled through the trunks, his ears pricked and his eyes searching. He thanked StarClan for Cloudkit’s thick pelt as he moved. The insulation it provided would prevent him from freezing.

Before long, Greystripe’s voice sounded from nearby. “I’ve found something!”

He found the rest of the group gathered around a patch of brambles. Snagged on one of the thorns was a tuft of white fur that unmistakably belonged to Cloudkit. Beyond was a single line of pawprints heading deeper into the woods.

“Cloudkit…” Fireheart growled.

“He’ll be fine,” Greystripe reassured him. “I did this all the time as a kit. My parents were furious. They kept me in the nursery for a quarter-moon one time. Can you believe that?”

Sandstorm scoffed. “They wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t go all the way to Sunningrocks on your own. I still have no idea how you got that far without getting caught.”

The grey tom dropped into a crouch and drew himself over the ground. “I’m as quiet as a mouse.”

“‘Quiet as a mouse’??” she echoed. “They can probably hear you stomping back in camp!” He swiped at her with a hefty paw and she sprang away with a playful hiss.

Greystripe glanced sideways at her. “You know, I didn’t think we would ever be friends again after we became apprentices. You and Dustpelt became all proud and snobby, and then you were always rude to Fireheart... ”

“Yeah.” Sandstorm looked embarrassed. “Sorry,” she added, glancing at Fireheart. “I’d been told over and over again that kittypets couldn’t be warriors, and then my father died, and…well, I wasn’t the nicest denmate to have. I was wrong. It took you saving me from falling into the gorge for me to see that.”

Fireheart’s mouth twitched in a smile. He’d long since forgiven her for her old disdain - not that it had really bothered him in the first place. Their eyes met for a long moment, but before he could say anything, a scream of terror tore from the forest up ahead. Cloudkit!

They leaped into a sprint, all warm feelings replaced by fear. Hundreds of thoughts rushed through Fireheart’s mind like a whirlwind. What had happened to the missing kit?

The group erupted into a small clearing surrounded by looming oak trees. The ground rose into a ridge on one side, and at the base of the slope, shadows bathed the entrance to a tunnel.

Cloudkit was cowering in the safety of two large rocks, a baby mouse dead at his paws. A bulky creature growled and reached between the stone to grab him, while its black-and-white striped head swung from side to side. Fireheart froze. He had never seen a badger before, and the sight of it threatening his kin made horror build in his stomach.

Sandstorm acted first. She launched herself at the enemy, raked her claws across its side, and sprang away before it could grab her. Fireheart copied her, causing the beast to round on him with a roar. It would have caught him had Brackenpaw not distracted it by lunging for its eyes. The badger lunged at him and clamped its jaws around the apprentice’s leg.

Greystripe sank his teeth into its short tail, but with a strong kick, it sent him rolling away. Fireheart dashed in again to slash at its flank, feeling the coarse grey fur beneath his paw as scarlet blood splattered the pale snow. He knew that its instincts were telling it to flee into its set, and it finally relented when Sandstorm advanced, spitting. The badger lumbered away and disappeared into the tunnel.

“Are you alright??” Fireheart demanded as Cloudkit crawled out of the shelter.

The tom-kit dropped the mouse. “I’m okay,” he replied. “It didn’t get me before you all got here. But look what I caught!”

Fireheart stared down at him in disbelief. Now that the badger had been dealt with, Cloudkit didn’t seem the least bit scared or remorseful for putting himself in that situation to begin with.

“That’ll show them that I can be a warrior,” Cloudkit went on. “Even though I was born in Twolegplace. I said I could hunt, and I did! I’m going to eat this myself. I’ll enjoy every last mouthful-”

“Are you mouse-brained?!” Fireheart burst out. “What were you thinking, coming out here on your own?? You’re so small that a rabbit could beat you in a fight! Do you have any idea how scared your mother was when she found out you were gone?”

“But Fireheart,” he protested. “You said we need to prove that we’re just as good as everyone else.”

“Yes, when you’re an apprentice!” hissed Fireheart.

Sandstorm sniffed the prey, then fixed Cloudkit with a stern look. “You did very well to catch it,” she meowed. “But there’s a reason kits aren’t allowed out of camp unsupervised. You could have died today if we hadn’t found you in time.”

Cloudkit hesitated. He began to argue, before bowing his head. “Yes, Sandstorm.”

“Good.” She leaned forward to lick him between the ears. “Don’t do it again or it might be my claws you’re having to hide from.”

Fireheart released a long sigh. At least he’s safe, he told himself. A grunt from Brackenpaw turned his head. The golden-brown tabby was limping towards them with Greystripe, one of his hind legs lifted above the ground.

“It’s not that bad,” he reassured them. “It just hurts. I’ll be fine.”

“You saved me from a nasty bite. That was a brave thing to do.” Fireheart dipped his head.

Brackenpaw’s eyes shone at the praise even though he remained modest. “It wasn’t that brave. I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing.”

“A warrior couldn’t have done better,” meowed Greystripe. “What’s a badger doing out in daylight anyway? They always hunt by night.”

Cloudkit scuffled his paws in the dirt. “I was on my way home when I saw that hole. I went to explore, but it was protecting its cubs and chased me out.”

“For StarClan’s sake…” Fireheart turned away from the kit. Was he trying to get himself killed?

Greystripe’s ears twitched. “I think he’s learned his lesson. Let’s just get back to camp and tell Bluestar that we’ve got badgers on our territory.”

Sandstorm picked up Cloudkit by the scruff and carried him back along the trail. The fluffy cat didn’t struggle, the prey between his teeth stopping him from arguing. Fireheart and their companions filed after her through the trees.

By the time they returned to camp, Willowpelt’s patrol had already returned empty-pawed. Brindleface rushed over as soon as she spotted Cloudkit and showered him with anxious licks. “Where have you been??” she scolded. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You shouldn’t sneak off like that!”

Bluestar flicked her tail at Brackenpaw, who was leaning against Greystripe’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“We found him being attacked by a badger,” Fireheart reported. “He’d wandered into its set and found it with its cubs. He’s lucky we got there before it did any damage.”

“But I caught a mouse! Look!” Cloudkit wriggled out of Sandstorm’s grip.

“I can see that.” Bluestar frowned at him.

Tigerclaw pulled back his lips in a snarl. “What were you thinking? Do you think that our warriors have nothing better to do than rescue you?”

“I didn’t mean to put myself in danger. I just wanted to prove that I’m just as good as everyone else.”

“All you’ve proved is that you can’t follow the rules. You’ve caused more trouble today than any of the other kits have combined,” snapped the deputy.

“He’s only young,” Brindleface meowed mildly.

“It’s time he learned a lesson. He can do some real work for a change.” Tigerclaw exchanged a glance with Bluestar. She inclined her head slightly, so he continued, “You can go and look after the elders. Clear out their dirty bedding, fetch clean moss, and bring them some fresh-kill. Go over their pelts for ticks too.”

“Ticks!” exclaimed Cloudkit. “I’m not doing that! Why can’t they deal with it themselves??”

“Because they’re elders,” Tigerclaw hissed. “You need to start understanding the ways of the Clan if you’re ever going to become an apprentice.” He glared at him. “Go on. They’re waiting.”

For a heartbeat, Fireheart was afraid Cloudkit was going to defy him again. Then the tom-kit ran past him and into the elder’s den with bristling fur. Brindleface scowled at Tigerclaw as she followed him.

“I always said bringing kittypets into the Clan was a bad idea,” Tigerclaw muttered to Dustpelt.

Fireheart swallowed back his anger - he couldn’t fight with the great warrior in front of everyone else. “Come on, Brackenpaw. Let’s get Yellowfang to have a look at that bite.”

Greystripe tried to follow with Sandstorm, but Bluestar stopped them. “I’m sending a patrol to drive away those badgers. I need you two to lead them to the set. Whitestorm, Dappletail, and Longtail, go with them.”

Fireheart turned away as she spoke, leading the apprentice towards the spare den where he could see Yellowfang and Cinderpaw sitting with Brokentail. As they approached, Cinderpaw sprang up.

“I’m fine,” Brackenpaw told her. “Really, I am.”

She studied him for a moment, before breaking into a purr. “Look, we’re matching.” She held out her bad leg.

Yellowfang inspected his wound with a critical eye. Finally, she sat back. “You’ll be perfectly fine. Go with Cinderpaw to my den and she’ll sort you out with a poultice.”

Still laughing at her own joke, Cinderpaw guided her brother away. Fireheart glanced down at Brokentail, then back up at Yellowfang. She followed his gaze, and both disgust and regret battled in her stare. Anyone else would hardly notice, for Fireheart was the only one who knew that the former ShadowClan leader was Yellowfang’s son. She had given him up as a newborn because medicine cats were forbidden from having a mate or kits.

Fireheart felt the familiar urge to say something, anything, to comfort her, but with Whitestorm on guard only a fox-length away, he didn’t dare. Instead, he gave her the faintest of nods and padded away.

****

He crouched in the warm shelter of the nursery, watching two tiny kits nursing among their mother’s belly fur. Happiness swirled inside him at seeing the cats who were the future of the Clan.

Then something stirred within his mind. ThunderClan had no kits as young as these. Where had they come from? His gaze travelled up to the she-cat and he saw nothing but a rippling pelt of grey. The queen had no face.

Fireheart choked back a cry of horror. As soon as he did, the pale shape began to fade and the world plunged into darkness. The shrill wail of a kit reached his ears. He leaped to his paws in an instant and tried to follow the sound, but no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t find them. Panic rose like bile in his throat.

A soft, golden glow appeared in the distance, drawing him forward like a moth attracted to light. A StarClan spirit sat near the edge with his bushy tail wrapped around the kits.

“Redtail!” Fireheart gasped. “What’s going on??”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the dead deputy murmured.

Anger pulsed beneath his pelt. “If you won’t tell me, then why show me this at all?” he demanded.

Redtail didn’t answer that. He rose and flicked his tail, and Fireheart found himself scrabbling in his nest of moss, the weak light of dawn filtering through the roof of the warrior’s den.

“Do you have to make such a racket?” Sandstorm grumbled without opening her eyes. “Some of us are trying to sleep over here.”

Fireheart pulled himself into a sitting position. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He bent his head to rasp his tongue over his chest in an attempt to hide how shaken he was. Frightened kits…kits whose mother had vanished. Had Redtail been showing him the future or giving him a glimpse into the past? Were the kits supposed to be Mistyfoot and Stonefur? Had their birth mother disappeared somehow?

Chapter 10: Chapter 8

Fireheart peered out impatiently from his hiding spot beneath a glossy-leaved bush. The sun shone down on Twolegplace from directly overhead, and he thought of his Clanmates sharing tongues back in ThunderClan’s camp. Normally, he would be relaxing with Sandstorm and Greystripe on a day as nice as this, but it had been over a quarter-moon since he’d seen Princess, and he missed her companionship.

The click of a door unlocking made his ears prick. His sister came bounding down her garden a heartbeat later, a purr rising in her throat. Fireheart glanced at the den to make sure her Twolegs were gone and scrambled out to meet her.

The littermates pressed their flanks together in an embrace. Then he drew back, nose twitching. “You smell different.”

Princess blinked. “Different how?”

“I don’t know.” He sniffed the air and realisation made his stomach lurch. “You’ve been to the cutter!”

“Oh, you mean the vet?” She glanced back at herself. There was a large square-shaped patch of no fur on her side. “My housefolk took me a day after your last visit, when all of my kits had been taken to their new homes.” Fireheart stared at her for a long moment. Before he could say anything, she went on, “It feels like seasons since I’ve seen you. You used to visit almost every day.”

A pang of guilt stabbed through his belly. “I know; I’m sorry. There’s just a lot to do at home - hunting, border patrols, reinforcing the dens-”

Her eyes narrowed. “‘Reinforcing’? Are you in danger?”

“Of course not,” Fireheart reassured her. “It’s just a precaution.” He hesitated. “I told Cloudkit that he was born here the other day.”

“You did?” Princess pricked her ears. “How did he take it? Your Clanmates don’t care that he wasn’t born in their camp, do they? You told me about the prejudice you faced, but he was a kit when he joined, so I hoped maybe it would be different.”

Fireheart didn’t have the heart to tell her about the nasty stares cats like Tigerclaw and Darkstripe always sent Cloudkit’s way. “Of course not. He was surprised at first, but he got over it quite quickly.”

“And the queen that adopted him - Brindleface, is it? - she definitely doesn’t treat him any differently to her own litter?”

“She loves them all equally,” he reassured her.

The kittypet’s eyes shone. “When will you bring him to visit me?”

“Kits aren’t allowed this far from camp. But don’t worry; you’ll get to see him right after he becomes an apprentice.” Glancing up at the sun, he meowed, “I’ve been assigned to a hunting patrol this afternoon. I’ll have to set off now if I’m to get back in time.”

Princess started to dip her head and then lifted a paw to stop him. “Wait, I almost forgot. There’s been cats roaming around the area recently. The Clans would call them rogues. They’re not kittypets, and even though they roam on their own, I’ve heard they all live together in a group. My friends say they come from deeper in the city and wear collars studded with teeth.”

He studied her dubiously. Collars studded with teeth? It sounded like a nursery tale parents would tell their kits to scare them away from Twolegplace.

“It’s true!” she insisted. “They’ve been hunting in the alleys and gardens, attacking any house cats that challenge them. I’ve scented them myself. Anyway, I don’t think they’ve been as far as the forest, although if they’ve expanded their territory to include these houses, they could venture into the woods too. I just thought I should mention it so you might keep an eye out for any rogue trespassers.”

A voice sounded behind them then - a voice that filled Fireheart with dread. “Is that so?”

He spun around. Tigerclaw was balancing on the narrow fence, his lips curled back in a sneer. Princess backed away and arched her back with a menacing hiss. The deputy spared her a glance of disgust, springing down onto the grass.

Fireheart gaped at him. “You followed me!”

“You should be carrying out your warrior duties,” hissed Tigerclaw. “Not standing around chatting with a kittypet.”

“There aren’t any warrior duties to carry out,” he retorted. “Besides, I’m not doing anything wrong. This is my sister, for StarClan’s sake. The Clan agreed that meeting with her isn’t breaking the code when I brought Cloudkit to live with us.”

“Do you think I care that it’s not against the code? Every time you set your paws in Twolegplace, you’re proving your disloyalty. But then again, what more can I expect from a lowborn cat like you?”

Anger pounded his heart against his chest. A low growl rumbled in his throat. “I’m just as much a warrior as you, Tigerclaw.”

“‘Tigerclaw’?” The echo came from Princess. Every muscle in her body visibly tensed. “You’re the murderer! The one who killed ThunderClan’s deputy and set up the trap meant for Bluestar that Cinderpaw fell into! You forced Fireheart’s friend, Ravenpaw, to flee the forest!”

His expression sharpened. “Ravenpaw? My apprentice died moons ago.” Tigerclaw stared, narrow-eyed, at Fireheart. “What does she mean?”

Fireheart ignored the question. If the tabby ever found out that Ravenpaw had faked his death and left to live with Barley beyond the uplands, the skinny black tom would never be at peace. He knew without a doubt that Tigerclaw would track him down and make sure that Ravenpaw would never be able to tell anyone else about his crimes. “What she means is that you are an evil, crowfood-eating fox-heart that deserves to die nine times over for what you’ve done!”

Tigerclaw gave a snarl of pure fury. Fireheart expected him to attack right there and then, but the deputy didn’t lunge at him. Instead, he spat, “You need to learn to hold your tongue.” And then he shouldered past Fireheart and tackled Princess to the ground.

The she-cat landed on her back with a shocked yowl. Tigerclaw pinned her down and raked his claws down the bald patch on her side. She thrashed and kicked beneath him, but the ThunderClan cat was much bigger than her.

“Let me go, you horrible pile of-” The rest of Princess’s words were lost as she sank her teeth into his paw.

For a heartbeat, Fireheart stood frozen at the sight of his sister struggling to free herself. Then he sprang forward, leaping onto Tigerclaw’s back. Digging his claws into dark brown fur, he bit down on the other tom’s shoulder.

“Tigerclaw?” A new cat called out from nearby. “Are you there?”

Fireheart tensed as he recognised Goldenflower’s voice. He latched on even harder, hardly daring to hope that one of his Clanmates would discover just how cruel the tabby deputy really was. Tigerclaw didn’t seem to think the same; he stiffened beneath Fireheart’s jaws at the sound of his mate. In one swift movement, he rolled off of Princess, knocked Fireheart away with sheathed claws, and scrambled up right as Goldenflower appeared on top of the fence.

She stared into the garden, taking in the three disheveled cats. “Tigerclaw? Fireheart?”

“What are you doing here?” Tigerclaw twisted his head to lick his sore shoulder.

“I found your scent trail and wondered why you were going into Twolegplace. What happened?” Goldenflower dropped down to join them.

Fireheart started to speak, but Tigerclaw cut him off. “I saw Fireheart coming here to visit his sister,” he meowed, jerking his head at a bristling Princess. “I was going to continue my hunt, before I got a terrible feeling in my gut. I tracked him here and found them under attack by a rogue. It was a huge tom with teeth studded in his collar. He gave me a nasty bite on my shoulder and ran off right before you got here.”

Goldenflower studied the wound. “It looks pretty deep. You should get Yellowfang to put a poultice on it so it won’t get infected.”

Princess’s hackles had lifted even higher at the lie. Her gaze darted to Fireheart, who shook his head slightly. Now that Tigerclaw had given his version of the story, Goldenflower would never believe them. Her eyes widened in indignation at his response, and she looked down at the scores down her side.

“You’re Fireheart’s sister, right?” The warrior nodded politely to the other she-cat. “Cloudkit’s mother?” There was a warm expression on her face. “I hope you know your son is going to grow up to be a fine hunter. He caught a baby mouse a few days ago. Can you believe it? He’s not yet two moons old and he’s already hunting.”

The kittypet looked between her and Tigerclaw. Then she hissed, whirled around, and ran back up her garden. She sat down at the door with her back to them.

Goldenflower watched her go. “Hm. Not very friendly, is she?”

“She’s just shaken up by the fight,” Fireheart replied.

“That’s understandable. It’s a good job you were there, Tigerclaw. Now, should we get back to camp? We wouldn’t want to risk running into any Twolegs by staying here longer than we need to.”

“Yes. Come on, Fireheart.” Tigerclaw leaped onto the fence. “You’ve got a hunting patrol to join.”

Forcing his fur to lay flat, he jumped up after Goldenflower. The two older cats set off immediately towards the forest, but Fireheart paused and glanced back at Princess. She returned his gaze through slitted eyes. A pit had formed in his belly the moment Tigerclaw had lunged at her.

When Fireheart had first promised himself that he would expose Tigerclaw as the murderous traitor he was, the day he had earned his warrior name, he had thought it could be done before the deputy had the chance to strike again. But now it was two seasons later and he had accomplished nothing. Bluestar had refused to listen both times he had tried to reveal it to her. Cinderpaw had been struck by a monster and left with a permanent limp. Princess, someone who had nothing to do with any Clan cats but Fireheart and Cloudkit, had been attacked.

He wanted to stop Tigerclaw, he really did, but he was beginning to think it was a hopeless endeavour. There was no evidence he could gather except Ravenpaw’s report of Redtail’s death.

And then there was the mystery surrounding Mistyfoot and Stonefur. He sighed as he trekked through the woods. He had only wanted to uncover more proof about Tigerclaw, and then he had learned of things that had been long-since buried. All he had done by meeting up with Greypool was dig himself into a deeper hole of secrets.

“Swiftpaw!”

A voice pulled him out of his miserable thoughts. Goldenflower and Tigerclaw were standing at the top of the ravine, their son and his mentor, Longtail, bounding towards them.

“Hey, Mother. Father.” Swiftpaw spat out the rabbit in his mouth. “I’ve been hunting. I caught this all by myself. Longtail didn’t even have to help!”

“He’s right.” The cream tabby gazed at the apprentice with pride. “He’s doing well in his training.”

“I’d expect so. I hope you’re going to turn out as a strong warrior like me. A future deputy, maybe even leader.” Tigerclaw flicked his tail.

Goldenflower nudged him fondly and smiled down at the young tom. “We’ll be proud of you whether you become deputy or not.” She paused, turning to Tigerclaw. “Should we tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Swiftpaw meowed immediately.

Tigerclaw touched his muzzle to Goldenflower’s ear. “We’re expecting kits again.”

It took a moment for the words to register. “I’m going to be a brother??” exclaimed Swiftpaw. He hurled himself forward and climbed onto his father’s back, squealing in delight. Tigerclaw staggered, pretended to collapse, and scuffled with him on the ground.

“Congratulations,” Longtail purred. “How long do you have?”

“It’s another moon until they’re born, I expect,” Goldenflower told him. “We’re already thinking about names!”

Fireheart was hardly listening. A droplet of water bulged at the end of a twig high above, then swelled and dripped down. A tiny hole appeared in the snow where it had landed. The patter of water was all around him now, accompanied by a warm breeze that ruffled his pelt. The realisation that soon, warmer weather would be on its way, managed to chase away some of the heaviness that sat like a stone in his stomach.

The thaw had begun.

Chapter 11: Chapter 9

Fireheart brushed past the other cats and made his way down the ravine. Newleaf was only a few weeks away, and then there would be moons of warm weather. His spirits lifted slightly. Defeating Tigerclaw seemed impossible, but he would not let himself give up on uncovering the secrets surrounding Mistyfoot and Stonefur’s parentage. Oakheart himself had told Greypool to confess the secret to Fireheart, and that meant it must be important.

He padded into camp. Mousefur jumped up from where she had been sat by the gorse tunnel. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “Where have you been?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Fireheart dipped his head apologetically at Mousefur and Runningwind. “I just need to tell Bluestar something and then we can go.”

“Be quick,” she grumbled.

Fireheart spotted the leader with Frostfur by the nursery. The two she-cats were laughing as they watched Brightkit and Thornkit wrestle in the dirt nearby. He saw the fondness in her eyes and wondered once again why she had been so angered by his mention of missing ThunderClan kits.

Bluestar’s smile faltered as he approached. “Yes, Fireheart?”

For a brief moment, he debated telling her how Tigerclaw had attacked Princess. Then he decided against it. Frostfur was laying less than a tail-length away, and besides, he didn’t want to risk angering her again. “I’ve been to visit my sister. She told me that there are rogues roaming around Twolegplace, attacking kittypets. I thought I should let you know in case they come onto our territory.”

“Rogues?” mused Bluestar. “Thank you. I’ll tell the patrols to keep alert.”

He nodded to Frostfur, turned, and bounded back over to the waiting siblings. “I’m ready. Where are we hunting?”

“I thought we could try near Snakerocks. It’s been days since anyone went that way,” the brown warrior suggested.

“Good idea,” Runningwind agreed. “Lead the way.”

The sun was beginning to cast a warm orange glow over the sky by the time Fireheart returned to the clearing, jaws stuffed with prey. He deposited his catch onto the fresh-kill pile and made a beeline for the hollow fallen tree with a rabbit in his mouth. As he’d been stalking a bird, he’d realised that the cats who would be most likely to know about kits disappearing from the camp were the elders. He could ask them for information under the guise of wanting to hear their stories.

They were lounging together among the long grass that surrounded the entrance to their den. Halftail was asleep, his head resting against Whiteeye’s shoulder, but Smallear’s gaze was bright. Cloudkit crouched in front of the old tom, captivated by his words, while Fernkit was draped over his back. Ashkit had already drifted off.

“And then the snake lunged at poor Frecklewish and bit her right on her eye!” Smallear’s tail lashed as he spoke, and Fernkit gave a squeal of fright. “Mapleshade watched, laughing, as she writhed and shrieked…and then she was no more. The noise attracted a nearby patrol, but by the time they found the body, the exiled rogue was already gone.” He paused and looked up at Fireheart. “Is that for us?”

“I thought you might be hungry.” He dropped the rabbit at the elders’ paws. He recognised the tale instantly; he had heard the story of Mapleshade’s murders often as an apprentice.

“Well, it’s good to see the younger cats still have their manners. Halftail, wake up. We have fresh-kill.”

“And then what happened?” Cloudkit pressed with a voice full of eagerness.

Fernkit kneaded Smallear’s spine with her forepaws. “Yes, what happened then??”

Smallear chuckled. “Well, Mapleshade crossed the river again to hunt down Appledusk. She hated him, you see, for taking another mate while he was still with her, and for turning against her after their kits died. They fought, and she managed to strike him down after he slipped on a wet rock. Mapleshade intended to kill Oakstar after that, until she was happened upon by Appledusk’s apprentice, Perchpaw. The RiverClan cat was much younger and less experienced, but Mapleshade was tired from her fight. He managed to mortally wound her, and the stories say she crawled all the way across WindClan’s territory, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She must have died from her injuries after that, for when the medicine cats journeyed to Highstones for their next half-moon meeting, they found her rotting corpse on their trail. Mapleshade found herself in the Dark Forest for her crimes, and only StarClan knows what she’s been up to ever since.”

“Wow,” breathed Cloudkit. “Why did Oakstar exile her kits? The warrior code says kits shouldn’t be harmed.”

Whiteeye swallowed a mouthful of succulent meat. “He was quite angry, I think, about the situation. After all, Mapleshade had told the Clan that Birchface was the father of her litter, and it was Appledusk that killed him in battle. That’s no excuse,” she added. “The kits did not deserve to suffer for the actions of their parents. But Oakstar was punished for banishing them. He ended up in the Dark Forest with her.”

Fernkit rolled off of Smallear and landed on the ground with a thump. “Who was ThunderClan’s medicine cat afterwards? You said Ravenwing didn’t have an apprentice.”

“He didn’t,” meowed Smallear. “Luckily for us, one of RiverClan’s medicine cats, Cloudberry, decided to take his place.”

“Tell us another!” Cloudkit bounced up and down.

“If you insist…” Smallear took a bite of the prey.

“Can I stay and listen?” Fireheart tried to sound as though the thought had only just occurred to him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to do this.”

Smallear replied cheerily, “Of course! At least some of our warriors still like to hear my stories. The rest only care about the next patrol. What would you like to hear?”

He pretended to think for a moment. “Have any kits ever gone missing from camp? Vanished and never found again?”

Whiteeye twitched her ear. “All the time. They sneak out of camp and end up wandering into a fox den or some other danger out in the forest.”

“Like who?” Fireheart settled himself on the earth.

“The leaf-fall before you joined the Clan, Fireheart, Dappletail adopted two orphaned kits. She named them Featherkit and Cricketkit.” Whiteeye finished her portion of the meal and licked her lips. “Spottedleaf figured out that Featherkit was deaf pretty quickly. Some of the Clan believed that the kit could never become a warrior because of it, but Dappletail was determined to make it work. Unfortunately, we never got to learn whether she was right or not - Featherkit was in her nest one night and gone by the next morning. I always thought she had snuck out and been killed by a predator. Dappletail was distraught. Even more so when Cricketkit died of greencough in leaf-bare.”

He tried not to look too disappointed. Mistyfoot and Stonefur couldn’t possibly be these cats; they were neither deaf nor dead. “She would’ve been able to become a warrior, surely? Tornear of WindClan is deaf in one ear.”

“Half-deaf is different to fully deaf,” Halftail replied. “But I do agree with you. We were going to create a language using different tail flicks and positions, ear twitches…you get the idea.”

“There was Chestnutkit,” Smallear murmured with a thoughtful expression on his face. “He was a part of the litter that Frostfur and Brindleface’s parents had before them. He disappeared in the middle of the night as well.”

Fireheart pricked his ears. “Did he have a sister, maybe?”

“Cherrypaw was his littermate. She died on her first trip out of camp. Killed by a fox.” Halftail sighed. “She was my first apprentice.”

So not him, then, he thought.

Whiteeye placed a comforting tail on his shoulder. “What about Bluestar’s kits?” she asked. “She had three of them,” she went on to Fireheart. “Mosskit, Moonkit, and Snowkit. She named the second two after her mother and sister. All three vanished into thin air at less than a moon old. Bluestar, Bluefur then, tried to track their scents, but it had snowed heavily. They were nowhere to be found.”

A shadow passed over Smallear’s features. “I still remember Thrushpelt’s cries when he found out they were missing. To lose one kit is tragic enough, but all of them in one go? I can’t imagine the pain.”

“Bluestar had a mate?” asked Fireheart.

Halftail pondered that for a few moments. “I don’t think so. Thrushpelt certainly had feelings for her, and he fathered her kits…To put it simply, they never shared a nest or acted like mates. They were friends, nothing more.”

Fireheart rested his chin on his paws and stared into the distance. He was reaching, wasn’t he? Fumbling for an answer to satisfy his curiosity? Of course he was. There was no way Mistyfoot and Stonefur were the leader’s kits. Bluestar had birthed three cats, not two, and none of them shared the same prefix as the now-RiverClan warriors. And Greypool had said Oakheart would never steal kits. There was no way he could’ve taken Bluestar’s litter without stealing them, even if they had snuck out of camp to explore the forest. Anyway, what reason would Bluestar have to give her kits to Oakheart? It didn’t make any sense.

He stood up. “Alright. Thanks.”

“Why do you ask?” Smallear watched him rise.

Panic sliced through Fireheart’s stomach. What if someone mentioned to Bluestar that he had been asking about missing kits? She had ordered him not to talk about it again. “I was just wondering,” he answered hurriedly. “Cloudkit left camp on his own the other day, and it got me thinking.”

As he padded out of the grass, he heard Fernkit pleading, “Tell us how Brokentail was chased out of ShadowClan! I heard he broke into our nursery and stole Cinderpaw, Brackenpaw, and Swiftpaw!”

“Well, Brokentail himself didn’t do that. He sent one of his senior warriors…” Smallear’s words faded with distance. Fireheart wandered across the clearing, lost in thought.

****

Fireheart sprinted through the forest, his paws skimming over the floor as he hurtled onward. Trees loomed on either side of him, their branches covered in the bright green cover of leaves, and their trunks as wide as a Twoleg monster. The trail that he was travelling along stretched on as far as the eye could see.

He closed his eyes with a broad smile on his muzzle. The air was comfortably warm and carried all the scents of greenleaf. Birds called to each other as they flitted overhead. The ground itself thrummed with life. Here, he could forget his worries about Tigerclaw and Mistyfoot and Stonefur. Here, he could enjoy the feeling of the breeze on his pelt and the thrill of running-

A cat stepped out in front of him. Fireheart’s eyes flew open and he caught a glimpse of a tortie pelt, before he tripped as he tried to stop. All the wind was knocked out of him when his body hit the ground, and he was sent tumbling across the grass.

He lay still for a heartbeat, catching his breath. Then he jumped up and spun around. “What did you do that for?? You could’ve-” He broke off. “Redtail!”

The deputy blinked at him slowly. “Hello, Fireheart. Nice trip?”

Fireheart hid his embarrassment by ducking his head and lapping at his chest fur. Disappointment that this was only a dream washed over him. “Do you have another vision to show me? Another warning?”

Redtail gestured to him with a flick of his bushy tail. “Walk with me.”

He scrambled after the spirit, keeping a few pawsteps behind out of respect, and waited for him to talk. When the silence stretched on, he tried to prompt him by clearing his throat, but the dead tom kept his gaze on the horizon and his mouth firmly shut.

He hesitated. “I asked the elders about missing kits today. I was hoping to try and figure out why and how Mistyfoot and Stonefur ended up in RiverClan. They told me about Dappletail’s adoptive kit, Frostfur and Brindleface’s older brother, and Bluestar’s three kits. It can’t be any of them, can it? Do you know the answer? You must. You’re a StarClan cat!”

Still Redtail did not speak. Fireheart opened his mouth to go on, and then became aware that their surroundings were moving. No, not moving. Changing. The trees were visibly shrinking in height, width, and amount. Pebbles were appearing all over the ground. The sound of a river gurgled in the distance. Fireheart halted, staring around in wonder. The forest grew still, and he found himself standing in a place that resembled RiverClan’s territory.

Redtail stopped too and shook out his fur. “That takes a lot more effort when I’m not just moving myself,” he commented.

Fireheart stared at him. “Did you do that?”

“I moved us to another part of StarClan.”

“How?”

“StarClan spirits have a lot of abilities that can be learnt if you have the time and patience. That is the easiest one. There are cats from the very start of the Clans that can do things newer ones like me can only dream of.”

“Like what?” Fireheart gaped at him.

Redtail lowered his voice to a conspiring whisper. “The word around the forest is that Shadowstar can mind-control other spirits. They say it took her from when she very first died to a few moons ago to learn it.”

“Is that true?” He tried to wrap his head around the possibility. It was well-known to the living cats that StarClan was powerful, but he’d never really put much thought into it beyond that. Could they really control each other like that?

He winked. “You’ll have to ask her yourself once you join us.” He turned away and tasted the air. His ears flicked forward. “There you are!”

Another cat emerged from a patch of long reeds. Stars danced across his reddish-brown pelt, and his yellow eyes were friendly. Muscles rippled beneath his skin as he strolled towards them. “We were supposed to meet a tree-length in that direction.” He jerked his muzzle back the way he’d come, although his voice was good-natured.

“I’m still getting the hang of moving myself,” retorted Redtail.

“You died less than five minutes after me and I can do it just fine,” the newcomer shot back with a grin. He dipped his head. “Welcome, Fireheart.”

Fireheart stared in awe. Redtail was the only StarClan cat he had ever met, and he found himself bowing his head.

“There’s no need for that.” He waved his tail. “I’m Oakheart.”

“Oakheart!” echoed Fireheart. “I’m honoured. But what am I doing here? No one but Redtail has ever had anything to say to me. Is this about the kits you gave to Greypool and Voleclaw?”

“Trust me, Fireheart, there are plenty of spirits who want to meet you. You have a great future ahead of you. Unfortunately, what they want to talk about hasn’t happened yet.” Oakheart sat down, curling his tail around his paws. Redtail did the same, and Fireheart hurried to copy them. “Yes, this is about those kits. After much deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that the information I am about to tell you will not have a major effect on how everything plays out, and that is why I am allowed to tell you. You will figure this out eventually anyway, but not quickly enough for things to happen when it is best they should.”

Fireheart leaned closer, anticipation and wonder building in his veins. ‘A great future’? Why would StarClan cats want to meet him? What was Oakheart about to tell him?

The RiverClan tom exchanged a glance with Redtail. “Stonefur and Mistyfoot are my kits. I am their biological father.”

He drew his head back sharply. “They were born in ThunderClan. Does that mean…”

“They are the product of a forbidden relationship between one of your Clanmates and I.”

Shock stunned Fireheart into silence. All of the cross-Clan relationships he knew of, apart from Greystripe and Silverstream, had been from countless seasons ago, before even the oldest cats were born. He seemed to recall that in his first conversation with Silverstream, she had mentioned that her mother had parents from different Clans, but he couldn’t remember if he’d imagined it or not. Oakheart had said ‘one of your Clanmates’. So Mistyfoot and Stonefur’s mother was still alive. Fireheart had spoken to her often.

“But you were deputy!” he protested, finding his voice again.

“In his defense, he wasn’t deputy at the time,” Redtail put in.

Oakheart released a heavy sigh. “We didn’t love each other. I found her brave and elegant, and she thought me to be charming. We were friends for many moons before everything happened, but afterward, she didn’t want any reminders of what she’d had to do.”

“What did she have to do? Why did she give your kits up?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

“You have to learn everything else by yourself.”

Fireheart felt his frustration threatening to break free. “Why?” he repeated. “I don’t understand. You know everything. Why can’t you tell me? In fact, StarClan knows everything. Why do you send us prophecies and signs instead of saying what’s going to happen?”

Oakheart rose to his paws and beckoned to Fireheart. “Come.” Without another word, he trotted away into the undergrowth, Redtail right behind him.

Fireheart followed them. Almost instantly, he found himself standing before a stream. It cut a channel through the ground, rippling over the stones on its bed and rushing past the reeds and plants that stood at its edges. Oakheart gazed down at it, and a moment later, the water stilled.

Redtail gestured for him to move closer. He stood on the edge of the bank and found his reflection staring back at him, far clearer than it should be.

“Every cat has a destiny,” Oakheart began. “Even rogues, because this destiny has nothing to do with StarClan. We know what it is, but we cannot alter or affect it. Most cats follow their destinies almost exactly - I was destined to grow up how I did, have the kits that I did, become deputy, and die by being crushed by rocks. But that does not mean you have to. For example, I could’ve chosen not to pursue a relationship with the cat that I did. It would have changed everything, even far into the future, but it could’ve happened.”

Redtail spoke up. “StarClan doesn’t know everything. I cannot predict what choices you will make, Fireheart, despite my knowledge of what you’re supposed to do. Our prophecies are vague for a reason. If we tell the Clans exactly what is expected to happen, then they might try so hard to achieve exactly that that they end up not accomplishing it at all.”

“Or they could try to avoid it,” added Oakheart.

“Exactly. We want everything to happen how it is destined to, and the only way we can do that while also taking care of the living cats is to make our warnings as vague as possible. Oakheart can’t tell you anything more than he has out of fear that certain events may happen before they need to. Do you understand now?”

Fireheart regarded himself for a while. He was going to do great things. He, the kittypet-born warrior, had StarClan spirits waiting to talk to him about his future achievements. A new resolve poured strength and confidence into his body. Maybe he would expose Tigerclaw after all. Maybe he didn’t have to spend the rest of his life submitting to a murderer. Maybe he just had to wait and let the opportunity come to him. His thoughts flew back to his apprenticeship, to a conversation he’d overheard and long forgotten. Spottedleaf had once told Bluestar that ‘fire alone could save the Clan’. What if it was him? What if he was the fire that would save ThunderClan? He lifted his head and met their eyes in turn. “I understand.”

The stream began to flow again, changing his perfect reflection into a barely visible ghost of orange. “Good,” Oakheart meowed. “Keep investigating like you did today, and you’ll find the truth.”

“Do any RiverClan cats know?” Fireheart questioned.

The tom twitched an ear. “My brother, Crookedstar. Goodbye, Fireheart.” And then he was gone.

Redtail shook his head with a small smile. “Very sure of himself, isn’t he?”

Fireheart blinked at the tortie, remembering suddenly that the last time the two deputies had met while alive, they had been fighting in a battle. “You get along really well.”

“It’s different in StarClan. There are no borders or Clan rivalries. In the end, we’re both just two cats that happened to be born on different sides of the river. Now go. Your Clanmates are waking.”

He closed his eyes and felt the ground melting away beneath his paws. When he opened them again, he was laying in his nest. Fireheart sat up, shook the moss from his pelt, and looked around. All around him, his fellow warriors were yawning and climbing up to start the day. He watched all of them, wondering which of them could be the mother of two RiverClan cats.

Tigerclaw was still curled up with Goldenflower in the centre of the den. As if he could sense Fireheart’s stare, he opened his amber eyes and glared back at him. He didn’t flinch. Tigerclaw could kill as many cats as he wanted, but Fireheart wasn’t going to give up. He could attack Princess - or even Cloudkit - every day, and still Fireheart wouldn’t back down. He was the fire prophesied to save his home, and he was going to fulfil that omen even if he died trying.

Chapter 12: Chapter 10

Fireheart pushed through the gorse barrier into the camp with two voles clamped firmly in his jaws. The sun shone in a brilliant blue sky, and in the few days that passed since his talk with Oakheart and Redtail, all of the snow had melted. Buds were already swelling on the plants and a mist of tiny green leaves covered a few of the trees. It was as though leaf-bare had never happened.

He arrived in the clearing to see Speckletail raking old bedding out of the nursery. When he dropped his prey on the fresh-kill pile and padded across to help her, he was pleased to see that, alongside Brightkit and Thornkit, Cloudkit was dragging stale moss from the den.

“I’m going to show everyone the best moss place,” he declared. “Mother showed it to me when I looked after the elders.”

“Good idea.” It hadn’t escaped Fireheart’s notice that even after Tigerclaw had relieved Cloudkit of his duties, the kit had continued to help around camp. “Watch out for badgers though!”

As Fireheart clawed the bedding into a pile, Goldenflower appeared beside him. “Hello, Fireheart.” She dropped the mice she’d been carrying. “Isn’t it nice to feel the sun on your back again?”

He blinked warmly. “Indeed. When do you plan to become a queen?”

“Trying to shove me into the nursery already? Am I not catching enough prey when I hunt?” she teased.

“No, of course not,” he amended. “You’re hunting is just fine. I was only asking-”

She waved her tail in a dismissal. “Not any time soon, I don’t think. I love my kits, but I love being a warrior too, and I’ll have to be a queen until they become apprentices.” She glanced down at her belly, not yet swollen. “Perhaps I could join a few patrols once they’re weaned. They’ll have my mother to watch over them-” Goldenflower broke off. “Although she’ll have her own litter to care for. I’m sure Tigerclaw will keep an eye on them while I go hunting.”

“‘Her own litter’?” he echoed.

“Haven’t you heard? My parents are expecting again.”

“Speckletail and Smallear?” Fireheart stared at her. “But they’re so old!”

“I may be old, but I’m not deaf.” Speckletail called from nearby.

He cringed. “Sorry. It’s just…Is that safe? For you to be giving birth? Your sister is already an elder.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I have Yellowfang to look after me.”

“Fireheart.” He glanced around to see the deputy standing behind him. “If you’ve got nothing better to do than gossip, I’ve got a job for you.”

Fireheart bit back an angry retort. He’d been hunting and had begun clearing the nursery with Speckletail; he’d only stopped for a few moments to talk with Goldenflower.

“I want you to take a patrol along the RiverClan border,” Tigerclaw went on. “The dawn patrol got caught up chatting with some ShadowClan cats near Fourtrees and didn’t have time to remark the scent line.”

“Yes, Tigerclaw,” replied Fireheart. Hedgehogs must be growing wings if Tigerclaw chose me to lead a patrol! “Who shall I take with me?”

“Anyone you like. Or do you need me to hold your paw?” he added.

“No,” he muttered through gritted teeth and imagined swiping his claws across the tabby’s scarred muzzle.

Goldenflower scoffed and, after taking up her catch again, brushed past her mate. She flicked him with her tail when she passed, and Tigerclaw’s sneer flickered into a smile as he watched her go.

Fireheart bounded over to where a group of warriors were talking by the Highrock. “Who’s up for a patrol? Tigerclaw wants us to check the boundary with RiverClan.”

Darkstripe twitched his tail. “I want to make sure those RiverClan fish-eaters are staying on their own side of the water.”

Great. Just the cat I want to patrol with. “Anyone else?” Please, StarClan, don’t make me have to go out alone with Darkstripe!

“I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.” Whitestorm got to his paws.

Sandstorm looked up from where she was washing. “Right when I was hoping to get a bit of peace,” she complained. “I’ve been fixing up a hole in the medicine den’s roof since dawn.” But her tone was light. “Lead on.”

Fireheart led the way up the ravine, feeling a tinge of pride at having a senior warrior like Whitestorm following him. “We’ll head for Sunningrocks and follow the border up to Fourtrees,” he decided.

He set a brisk pace through the trees, but not so fast that he failed to notice the fronds of new bracken starting to unfurl or the blanket of greenness that covered the forest. Birdsong filled the air.

Sandstorm bounded up to his side. “I thought leaf-bare would never end,” she remarked. “It’s nice not to have cold paws from walking through snow.” She glanced sideways at him. “Are you going to participate in the Competitions?”

The Competitions were a ThunderClan tradition held in early newleaf. Fireheart had never seen them before - he had still been a kittypet the last time they were held - and he wouldn’t have been able to join anyway. They were exclusively for warriors. The games had barely been mentioned the entire time he had lived in the woods, but now that they were approaching again, the camp was abuzz with talk about who would win. “Tell me what they are again?”

“There’s two different types of the fighting contest,” explained Sandstorm. “Wrestling, which is exactly what it sounds like,” She rolled her eyes. “And there's the more refined version. You fight how you would in a battle, with swipes and dodges. The day after is the hunting tournament-”

“Each cat has to catch the most of a specific kind of prey,” Fireheart remembered.

“Exactly. Then you have tree-climbing, swimming - which isn’t the most popular - and the race on the very last day.”

“I’ll be doing the tree-climbing and swimming.” Darkstripe sauntered past them. “My sleek pelt sends the water rolling off like a RiverClan cat’s.” He eyed Fireheart with a wrinkled nose. “I can’t say the same for your kittypet fluff.”

He bristled. Before he could stop himself, he shot back, “‘Like a RiverClan cat’s’? Have you been eating fish in secret? I wondered where that smell was coming from.”

Darkstripe curled his lip. “At least I don’t still carry the reek of Twolegs.”

Fireheart glared at the other tom. “Who are you trying to impress? Tigerclaw isn’t on this patrol.”

There was a flash of fury in his yellow eyes. Fireheart caught a glimpse of claws sliding out at the same time Whitestorm did, and the older cat pushed between them. “Alright, that’s enough. We’ve got a scent line to refresh.”

Fireheart pushed past Darkstripe and continued on through the growing undergrowth. Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled and felt his muscles relax. There’s a prophecy about me, he reminded himself. Darkstripe is just another warrior. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. He spoke up as Sandstorm rejoined him. “What contests are you going to join?”

“Fighting, hunting, and the race,” she answered. She gave him a friendly nudge. “You really should have a go. Only the hunt, if nothing else. Don’t expect me to go easy on you, though. I plan to win.”

He considered it for a few moments. He wasn’t a poor hunter by any means, but the idea of his ability being compared to his Clanmates’ didn’t appeal to him. What if he somehow managed to catch nothing at all? He wasn’t bad at fighting either, he supposed, but on the other paw, going against warriors that would find it easier to predict his moves than an enemy would… “I’ll think about it.”

They were approaching Sunningrocks now, so Fireheart dropped into a walk. The patrol emerged from the trunks expecting to see the familiar view of the smooth grey boulders and river, and were instead met with a shining expanse of water.

“Great StarClan!” Sandstorm breathed.

It lapped at the ground less than a mouse-length from Fireheart’s paws and stretched across RiverClan’s territory, the flat land allowing it to spread as far as it could. Tips of reeds poked through the surface, and trees stood alone where the surrounding bushes were completely submerged.

Whitestorm peered across the border. “It’s been a long time since it flooded like this. We’ll have to set the markers at the water’s edge.”

Fireheart scanned the land ahead, searching for any signs of clamour. “What will happen to RiverClan? Will it have reached their camp?”

“They can swim, remember?” Darkstripe meowed matter-of-factly.

“They build their nests and dens out of floatable materials and have places on higher ground to retreat to,” Whitestorm reassured him. “They’ve prepared for this.”

****

As soon as Bluestar heard the news, she sprang onto the Highrock and gave the familiar call: “Let all those old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

All of the cats were already in the clearing, having been sharing tongues in the wake of sunhigh. Now they clustered below the leader and stared up at her. Fireheart sat at the front of the crowd, next to Yellowfang and Cinderpaw. While he waited for Bluestar to begin, he spared a glance at the young she-cat. She shook her head without looking at him, and he knew that she hadn’t yet asked Yellowfang if she could be her apprentice.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” announced Bluestar. “The river has flooded our territory.” A chorus of dismayed yowls rose from the listeners. “Fireheart, tell them what you saw.”

Fireheart stood up and described how the river had overflowed at Sunningrocks. “It’s in full flood for the entire length that it travels along the forest,” he added. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the water rises farther into the woods with time.”

“How far does it stretch into RiverClan’s territory?” Willowpelt called out.

“Quite far.” He addressed the entire Clan. “They’ll have to abandon their camp if it keeps going.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound dangerous to us. We’ve got plenty of space left to hunt,” Longtail meowed. “Let RiverClan worry about the floods.”

Bluestar didn’t seem to agree with him. “We might not have plenty of space if the floods get worse. In any case, RiverClan might need our help. They may be strong swimmers, but that doesn’t mean they won’t drown. We’ll keep an eye on them, and if it looks like the water has reached their camp, I’ll send a patrol to check up on them.”

Relief flitted across Greystripe’s face. He wouldn’t be able to visit Silverstream until the river returned to normal, and Fireheart wouldn’t be surprised if he volunteered to join the patrol.

“In the meantime, no one is to go near the water alone. I won’t have any of you drowning for the sake of some peace and quiet. Patchpelt and Dappletail, travel along the border and place markers at the water’s edge - sticks, rocks, anything that you can easily find again. We need to keep track of where it reaches.” She sprang onto the ground. “Meeting dismissed.”

****

It was only two days later when Bluestar called Fireheart and Greystripe into her den.

“Sandstorm’s patrol this morning reported that they think the floods have reached the RiverClan camp,” she meowed grimly. “I’m sending you two to track them down and make sure they’re safe.”

“Of course, Bluestar!” Greystripe answered instantly. She regarded him thoughtfully and he dropped his gaze.

Fireheart felt a surge of anticipation, but for a different reason. This could be his chance to talk to a RiverClan cat about Oakheart. Perhaps he could ask if the deputy had ever been close with a ThunderClan warrior when he was younger, or maybe he could even get the full answer from Crookedstar himself. He dismissed the last idea as quickly as it had come to him. The RiverClan leader would never reveal a secret as major as that to a warrior from another Clan.

“What exactly should we do once we find them?” questioned Greystripe. “They won’t be hunting very well at the moment. Should we offer to share our prey?”

Bluestar shook her head. “No. The Clan wouldn’t be pleased if we start giving up our own food for the sake of another. Tell them that if they need to shelter on our territory, they can, and I’m sure Yellowfang won’t mind giving them some of our herbs. Overall, just make sure they’re okay.”

“You’d let them live on our territory?” Fireheart blinked.

Now it was her turn to look away. “We cannot allow RiverClan to collapse, just like how we brought WindClan home and drove Brokentail out of ShadowClan. This is no different.”

“But surely cats like Tigerclaw would never-”

“Clans have sought refuge with each other before,” interrupted Bluestar. “This is no different,” she repeated.

Greystripe lifted his head. “How are we going to get across the river? The only ways across are the bridge and stepping stones, and they’re both underwater.”

An amused gleam returned to her eye. “How is your swimming?”

Dismay wormed its way into Fireheart’s stomach. Even thinking about paddling across the wide swathe of water nauseated him. “What if we drown?”

“You won’t. StarClan will guide your paws. Now go. If you’re not back by sundown, I’ll send another patrol to find you.”

Fireheart and Greystripe bounded through the lichen, out of camp, and into the forest. They ran in silence, until the grey tom meowed, “Is now a good time to say that I’m a good swimmer?”

“What are you talking about?” Fireheart twisted his head to stare at him.

“Silverstream’s been teaching me so I can participate in the swimming Competition,” he admitted. “I’ve picked it up pretty quickly.”

Fireheart heaved a sigh. “I suppose one of us will make it to the RiverClan cats then. I’ll be watching you from StarClan.”

Greystripe opened his mouth to reply, but a distant yowling reached their ears. It was coming from the direction of the river. Without a word, the friends burst into a sprint and tore through the undergrowth, the shouting growing louder with every stride. They erupted from the trees and skidded to a halt by the rim of the water.

A bump of land rose above the surface opposite them. Three RiverClan warriors - Vixenleap, Beetlenose, and Dawnbright - were pacing on top of it, their gazes fixed desperately on something out of their reach. Where the shallows dropped away into where the river should be, the currents were rushing along, swirling and crashing against a lone rock.

Pressed against that rock, half-crushed by the force of the water, was a nest made of reeds. And on top of those reeds, two kits cowered away from the violent waves.

Chapter 13: Chapter 11

Fireheart stared at the trapped kits, horror tearing through his body. He splashed into the shallows, but the rushing water stopped him from going any further. “What happened?” he yowled across the floods. “Why aren’t you doing anything??”

“Frogleap-” Vixenleap choked out. There was genuine fear in her eyes as she shook her head.

Dawnbright lashed her tail. “That nest won’t last much longer,” she warned. “We have to get them out of there.” She turned to her Clanmate. “What happened to Frogleap was because he was caught off-guard. RiverClan warriors swim in these currents all the time.”

Greystripe appeared at Fireheart’s side. “What happened to Frogleap?”

Vixenleap opened her mouth to explain, but Beetlenose shouldered her aside. “To the Dark Forest with this,” he growled, and dove straight into the river.

She darted to the edge of the little island. “Be careful!”

The tom swam up and away from the kits with strong paws. Once he was a good way upriver, he allowed himself to be pulled into the rapids. Fireheart found himself crouching, ears flat back, as he watched Beetlenose struggle to control his movements while being tossed and carried around. Several times his head went under, only for it to pop back up a few heartbeats later. The kits began to cry out when they spotted him. One of them - a dark grey tom-kit with even darker spots - started forward.

“No, Pikekit!” Dawnbright snarled, her harsh tone sending the kit shrinking back. In a gentler voice, she called, “We’re going to get you out of there, I promise. Just hold still. You too, Primrosekit. It’ll all be okay.”

Greystripe stiffened. “Primrosekit and Pikekit are Mistyfoot’s kits!” he hissed into Fireheart’s ear. “We can’t let them drown.”

Fireheart didn’t answer. His attention was fixed on Beetlenose’s progress through the swift-moving water. He’s going to make it. Relief flooded his body as the black cat aligned himself with the stone.

Then Vixenleap gave a terrible shriek. “Father! Look out!”

A branch had appeared further up, spinning while it bore down on the RiverClan cat. Beetlenose floundered with indecision - stay and risk his life to save the kits, or move away and have to try again, if they hadn’t already drowned by then? It had reached him before he could decide.

The branch struck him with a crack that sent a sickening feeling into Fireheart’s stomach. Beetlenose vanished under the waves and the piece of wood struck the rock, narrowly missing the floating nest. Primrosekit wailed and tried to clamber onto the stone. Fireheart scanned the river, but he couldn’t see any signs of the warrior.

Dawnbright stood poised on the piece of land. There was no terror on her face, only a desperate concentration. And then, without a word, she sprang into the rapids, kicked forward, and ducked underwater.

For the longest moment, Fireheart thought they must both be dead; he couldn’t catch a single glimpse of her white and orange fur; before movement caught his eye. Dawnbright resurfaced further along, her teeth sank deep into Beetlenose’s scruff. The older cat spluttered and coughed, then started to paddle. Together, they made their way into the shallows on their side of the border.

Vixenleap visibly relaxed. She turned back to the kits. “It’s alright, we’ll try again!” When Dawnbright came running up to her, however, with Beetlenose following more slowly, her expression was less than confident. “What are we going to do??” she hissed, barely loud enough for the ThunderClan cats to hear. “My father is the best swimmer out of us, and he can’t go out again. There isn’t time to go back and bring anyone else, not with the floods to slow us down!”

Fireheart realised then that Greystripe wasn’t beside him anymore. His friend was bounding through the belly-high water towards the branch, which had washed up against a tree. The RiverClan patrol broke off their whispers to watch as he dragged it back to Fireheart.

“We can walk across this,” he suggested. “It’s thick and long enough. If we lodge it against the rock and one of us holds the other end, it might be stable enough for the other to cross it and reach the kits.”

He hesitated. It was a mouse-brained idea - it could get them killed, for StarClan’s sake. They might be able to hold it mostly still, but it wasn’t possible to stop it from moving completely. One misstep or wobble, and the cat crossing would fall. He looked at Mistyfoot’s kits.

They stared back at him, almost as though they had sensed the possibility of rescue. The reeds were beginning to untangle, and small chunks of the nest were being swept away. It was now so small that the two kits had to press against each other, their scared moans lost to the sounds of the waves.

Fireheart’s mind was made up. This was the only way to save them. “I’ll go. I’m lighter than you.”

Greystripe grunted around the branch in his mouth. The thick-furred warrior waded deeper and deeper, until only his spine and his head was above the water. He was lucky the water was completely still where he was, or else he would’ve struggled to stand still. The other end of the branch threatened to break free, but Greystripe held it firmly, and finally, it lodged against the stone.

Fireheart followed him out, trying to calm his racing heart. StarClan help me, he silently prayed. Digging his claws into the wood, he hauled himself up.

“Go slowly!” shouted Dawnbright.

He flicked an ear in acknowledgement and edged out over the rapids. The branch trembled with every step, but it held, and Fireheart forced himself to steady his paws. Keeping his claws gripped tight, he picked his way onward, and then he was standing on the rock.

“It’s okay,” he told the kits. The words came out shaky. “I’ve got you.” He crouched low and pulled Primrosekit onto the smooth grey stone. “I’m coming back,” he promised Pikekit. Then he took up Primrosekit by the scruff and crossed back over.

The young cat swung around every time Fireheart moved, but he managed to reach the other side and drop back down into the water. Placing the bundle on the roots of a tree, he ordered, “Stay right here. Don’t move. And whatever you do, do not go into the water.”

“O-okay,” stammered Primrosekit.

Fireheart spun around and climbed up again. He moved quicker this time, his steps short and fast, for he could see Pikekit clinging to the last piece of his nest. He was halfway across when the branch lurched suddenly. Fireheart jerked as his forepaw slid into the water, and a cry from one of the RiverClan warriors reached his ears. Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and held still until the makeshift bridge had stopped shaking.

“Pikekit!” Beetlenose yowled.

His eyes flew open. The kit was clinging to the tiny knot of reeds, shrieking in fear. Any reservations for his own safety were forgotten as he sprang forward. But he wasn’t quick enough. Pikekit plunged into the swirling currents, and without hesitation, Fireheart leaped after him.

The last thing he heard was Greystripe’s howl of “Fireheart!” before the water closed over his head.

The moment he went under, it was as if the water was battling over him. He was being dragged and slammed around from all sides, stuck in an embrace with the enemy. All he could see was bubbles and darkness.

Something brushed against his side. He managed to twist his head and saw the shape shape of Pikekit rushing past him, his blue gaze stretched wide. Fireheart snapped his muzzle forward and managed to grab hold of him - whether it was his tail or his leg, he couldn’t tell.

He tried to swim then, but his body was being battered around, and he no longer knew which way was up. His lungs began to burn, and the first tinge of panic appeared in the back of his mind. No. This can’t be it. I can’t die yet.

Fireheart fought his way forward, paddling with the currents instead of against it. Beyond the terror that clouded his vision, he was aware that Pikekit was no longer moving. He knew then how Beetlenose had felt, and Greystripe when he’d fallen through the ice. How helpless they must have been.

One last kick sent him spinning free from the draught. Fireheart could tell now which way to swim; the sunlight sliced through the surface in beams, splitting through the long plants that grew from the riverbed. His churning paws carried him upward, but exhaustion made every movement take twice as much work. Almost…there…

He couldn’t move his hind leg. What? He turned his head and saw one of the plants wrapped around his limb. Fireheart tried to pull away, but the knot only tightened. No…No! He thrashed around, terror taking control. StarClan can’t take me yet. I haven’t stopped Tigerclaw. I can’t leave Cinderpaw, or Princess, or Yellowfang…or Bluestar…Greystripe…Sand…storm… His instincts finally took control. Fireheart tried to draw in a desperate breath and water surged into his lungs. He choked. His entire body was both alive and weighed down by pain, panic, exhaustion, and the fierce will to live.

But no amount of wishing could untangle the plant around his leg. Even as the knowledge entered his mind, blackness was heavy behind his eyes, calling to him. His jaws parted, releasing Pikekit’s body, and he drifted down. The water enveloped him now. Warm. Comforting.

And then the darkness claimed him.

Chapter 14: Chapter 12

The first thing Fireheart became aware of was the nest beneath his body. The weaved pattern of reeds dug uncomfortably into his side and scratched at his skin. He tried to shift into a comfier position, but exhaustion clouded his mind.

The next thing he noticed was the chatter of voices around him. They droned on like an annoying buzz, growing steadily clearer until he could make out the words.

“Four cats in one day,” meowed someone he didn’t recognise. “And another only a few days ago. StarClan have turned their backs on us.”

“Don’t say that,” responded another. “The Twolegs, the floods, the poisoned river? They’re all out of StarClan’s control. This isn’t the first time RiverClan has suffered, and it won’t be the last. We’ve always pulled through.”

He drew in a deep, raspy breath and immediately broke into a coughing fit. The conversation broke off, and he sensed stares burning into his pelt, but he wasn’t paying attention. The smell of RiverClan hung heavy in the air around him, swirling with the scents of many different cats.

Fireheart forced his eyes open. His vision swam in front of his face, blurry and confusing, but as he blinked rapidly, everything came into focus. He was curled up at the edge of a large clearing full of other cats, all huddled together in little groups. The sky was stained with the golden-pink glow of sunset.

“Mudfur!” called the second speaker, who he now recognised as Greenflower. “He’s awake!”

The medicine cat padded up from where he’d been sharing tongues with Skyheart and Softwing. Fireheart struggled to sit up, only for Mudfur to stop him. “Not so fast, Fireheart,” he ordered. “You’ll still be weak. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. My breathing is raspy. What happened?”

Mudfur crouched down beside him. “You almost drowned in the floods while trying to rescue Pikekit.”

“Pikekit…” The memories came flooding back in then. The terror of being stuck in the currents, the terrible burning in his chest, the panic of being caught in the plants, the feeling of losing consciousness… “Pikekit. Is he okay? And Primrosekit?”

The solemn look on Mudfur’s face told him all he needed to know. “Pikekit was underwater too long. He didn’t make it. But Primrosekit is okay.”

Fireheart’s gaze drifted to a cluster of cats in the centre of the clearing. He saw Mistyfoot and Blackclaw hunched over the small body of their son, and beyond them, a she-cat whose pelt was multiple shades of orange and red huddled between the corpses of two kits and a grey warrior he guessed was her mate.

“Fireheart!”

He lifted his head. Greystripe was trotting towards him, a look of relief on his face. Sandstorm was right behind him.

“I thought you were dead when you jumped into the water,” the tom went on.

“So did I,” Fireheart replied, managing a smile. “What happened after I passed out?”

His companions sat down beside him, and Mudfur left with a polite nod. “Well, another patrol showed up after you went under,” explained Greystripe. “They’d been searching for the kits near Sunningrocks and came to see if Beetlenose’s patrol had had any luck. Leopardfur went in after you, bit through the plant holding you down, and dragged you out. She carried out a few tricks to get you to cough up the water, and then they carried you here. This is where RiverClan is staying until the floods go down,” he added when Fireheart looked round. “It’s on higher ground. I brought Primrosekit here by following the gorge up to another bridge.”

“When neither of you came back from your patrol, Bluestar sent Dappletail, Darkstripe, and I to find you,” Sandstorm put in. “When we found out what happened, the others went back to camp to tell the Clan. I insisted on staying.”

“Thanks,” he meowed. Her friendship sent a flicker of warmness through him.

Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

“Not really. I think it might be the shock- Hey, what are you doing? I said I’m not- Get off me, you great oaf! There’s not enough room in this nest for both of us!”

“Of course there is!” Greystripe responded cheerily as he squashed himself into the reeds beside Fireheart. “I can use my pelt to warm you up.”

He tried to push him away, but his muscles still lacked their usual strength. A purr broke unbidden from his chest. Laughing, Sandstorm climbed in too, and Fireheart found himself cocooned between them.

“These are for you.”

Fireheart glanced up. Silverstream was standing in front of him, placing a bundle of herbs on the ground. Her gaze passed impassively over Greystripe, giving no sign that she knew him.

“Coltsfoot for your breathing, honey to give you energy, and thyme for the shock. Mudfur sent them.” She nudged the leaf wrap closer, then added, “Thank you for saving Primrosekit. I don’t know what Mistyfoot would’ve done if both of her kits had died.”

As if on cue, Mistyfoot turned and looked straight at him. He half-expected to see anger or blame in her eyes for failing to carry Pikekit to safety, but there was only a dull, raw sadness. Something stirred in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling that he’d seen her grieving before, but of course that was impossible. He shook it away and dropped his gaze to the herbs. Wrinkling his nose, he unwrapped the bundle and swallowed them down before the taste could deter him.

“I can’t believe you jumped into those rapids,” murmured Greystripe when Silverstream moved away. “I don’t know if I could’ve done it if I were in your place.”

“You would’ve snapped the branch before you made it across anyway,” Fireheart teased.

Greystripe hissed playfully and kicked him in the flank. Fireheart jerked into Sandstorm, who cuffed them both around the ears and tucked her muzzle under her paws. “Good night, the both of you.”

****

It was sunhigh when Fireheart woke the next day. His body felt re-energised and his chest was no longer raspy, but hunger clawed at his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since morning the day before.

Sandstorm was sitting outside the nest, rasping her tongue over her side. Greystripe was nowhere to be seen. The RiverClan cats that weren’t hunting or on patrol lingered in the clearing, including Mistyfoot, who was still crouched in the same spot. Stonefur and Greypool sat with her.

Gazing at them, Fireheart thought back to what he knew about the two littermates. Who was their mother? How could he ask if Oakheart had been close to a ThunderClan cat without raising suspicion? As he watched Mistyfoot, a vague feeling of recognition flickered in his mind once again. She seemed familiar, and not just because he’d seen her before.

“Crookedstar sent Greystripe home before you woke up,” Sandstorm told him, pausing her wash. “He doesn’t want any more ThunderClan cats on his territory than necessary.”

“How long will I have to stay here?” He was eager to return to ThunderClan territory, but the thought of swimming through the floods sent a burst of panic through his body. He swallowed it down.

A new voice cut in before Sandstorm could answer. “Mudfur thinks you’ll be able to travel tomorrow.” It was Crookedstar. The leader of RiverClan approached them with a small mouse held between his twisted jaws. He placed it down in front of them. “This is for you. It’s not much, I’m afraid, but we cannot spare the fresh-kill to feed you over ourselves.”

“Thank you,” responded Fireheart gratefully. He climbed out of the nest, movements stiff from lack of movement, and took a bite of the prey.

Sandstorm crouched beside him, but she didn’t start eating yet. “I overheard your warriors saying that the Twolegs are finally gone. I would’ve thought that with the floods, it’s easier to catch fish than ever.”

Crookedstar’s expression hardened, and he ignored the unspoken question. “RiverClan will be forever grateful, Fireheart, that you risked your own life to save our kits.” He touched his nose briefly to Fireheart’s head, then turned and padded away. A flick of his tail signalled for Petaldust and Mosspelt to rejoin him, and the hunting patrol set out once again.

“They’re hiding something,” Sandstorm murmured, her eyes scanning over the cats around them. “Have you noticed that they’ve barely eaten anything the entire time we’ve been here? And when they do, it’s only minnows and mice. Lilystem even ate a bird. I haven’t seen any of them bring back a carp or a trout.”

Fireheart swallowed down his last mouthful. “I’ve been asleep,” he reminded her.

“Well, I haven’t. Do you think we should report it to Bluestar?”

“Maybe the Twolegs overfished the river and there’s no carp and trout to catch,” he suggested. “Or perhaps they can’t get to them because of all the extra water.” Even as he spoke, he didn’t believe what he was saying. The nagging feeling that she was right persisted in his belly, and as he gazed at the RiverClan cats, their ribs clearly visible beneath their pelts, pity stirred there too.

She looked unconvinced, but Mudfur’s approach stopped her from saying anything else. The medicine cat dipped his head. “I’m going out to collect herbs. I want you to come with me if you’re up for it. I could use an extra set of paws, and I need to make sure you’re healthy before you go home.”

“Sure.” Fireheart got to his paws. “Are you coming?” he added to Sandstorm.

Her ear twitched. “I think I might join a hunting patrol instead. I need to stretch my legs.”

He nodded to her and bounded after Mudfur, who had already started for the edge of the clearing. They trekked through the trees - Mudfur keeping his eye out for any herbs, and Fireheart realising that this was the perfect opportunity to ask about Oakheart.

But how? he wondered. I don’t want to risk raising his suspicions. “Mudfur,” he meowed casually. “Why have RiverClan sheltered Sandstorm and I? Surely it’s easier to send us back home right away.”

“You saved Primrosekit,” the other tom answered. “We’re in your debt, although they’ll never admit it.”

“So why can’t longer alliances last? If the Clans helped each other like this all the time, then more cats would survive.”

Mudfur heaved a sigh. “I’ve often wondered that myself. It’s one of the reasons I became a medicine cat; I couldn’t stomach any more blood on my claws. The truth is, Fireheart, there will always be cats that can’t put aside old grievances, just like there will always be cats who seek to control the entire forest. I only hope that in the future, the Clans will find a way to work together.”

“Surely there’s been cross-Clan friendships before that have lasted? Even in leaders and deputies?”

“Of course. Crookedstar and Bluestar were close friends as warriors. They grew apart after they became leaders of their respective Clans, but their bond lasted many moons.”

Now’s my chance. “What about Oakheart? Did he have any friends in ThunderClan?”

Mudfur glanced at him.

“Leopardfur isn’t very fond of ThunderClan cats, and Oakheart was the deputy before her…” Fireheart hastily explained.

He halted by a patch of chervil growing between two rocks and began to nip off the leaves. “Oakheart was friends with a few of your Clanmates. Rosetail, Lionheart, Willowpelt, Bluestar, Goldenflower…He was less hostile towards the other Clans than most.”

Fireheart stared into the distance. He could rule out Lionheart straight away for obvious reasons, but that left him with four other cats to consider. I hope it’s not Rosetail. It’s not like I can ask her about it. Once the medicine cat had collected everything he needed, Fireheart took up a mouthful of chervil and wandered after him deeper into the forest. I don’t think it’s Willowpelt. She would’ve been an apprentice when they were born. What about Bluestar? No, that’s mouse-brained. Bluestar would never have kits with a RiverClan warrior. Goldenflower? I suppose it’s a possibility-

“Fireheart?”

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Mudfur. The pale brown tom was blinking at him. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed them halting by a juniper bush or the berries that had been gathered.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry. I’ll help carry these back.”

****

Fireheart padded across the dewy grass, the mid-morning sun shining down on his pelt. Sandstorm walked beside him, her ears pricked in the direction of the border. Their escorts, Silverstream and Crookedstar himself, were talking a tail-length ahead.

It was the day after his herb-gathering expedition with Mudfur, and Fireheart was finally returning to his own territory. RiverClan’s land was certainly breathtaking, especially when the sunlight shone on the water, but he missed the beauty of the forest, especially with all the greenery growing back.

The noise of the gorge lulled into a satisfying roar the longer he spent travelling along it. Instead of attempting to cross the floods and river, they had taken the route across the second bridge and were making their way towards the ThunderClan boundary near Fourtrees.

Sandstorm breathed in deeply, inhaling the first scents of home. “I’ve missed the smell of the woods.”

“You’ve only been gone for three days.”

“Yes, and you’re the reason why.” She gave him a slight nudge. “What is it with you and saving cats from drowning? You stopped me from falling into the gorge a moon after we became warriors. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” he joked. “I can’t help it. It must be my natural kittypet instincts, unable to be suppressed even after seasons of living as a wild cat.”

She smiled, shaking her head. They walked in silence for a moment, before she meowed, “You have to be more careful. You could’ve died, Fireheart.”

“I’m sorry.” He stepped closer to her. “But I had to try and save Pikekit. I couldn’t let him die without even attempting to pull him out.”

“I know. I just don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”

In a light tone, he replied, “You’d have Dustpelt and Greystripe, and all of our Clanmates.”

Sandstorm flicked her tail. “It’s not the same. Dustpelt is my brother, and he’s been spending time with Longtail and Darkstripe recently. And Greystripe? StarClan knows where he goes, but he’s hardly ever in camp. You’re my closest friend.” Fireheart touched his muzzle to her shoulder. Before he could say anything, she tasted the air and brightened. “There’s a ThunderClan patrol up ahead,” she reported, raising her voice to catch the hearing of Crookedstar and Silverstream. “I’m going to tell them we’re here.” She brushed past them and loped away into the undergrowth.

Now that she was gone, Fireheart turned his attention to the family in front of him. They seemed to have been arguing over something in low whispers, but now Silverstream’s voice changed into a frustrated growl. “There’s no reason why we can’t expand our territory into the unclaimed lands!”

“That has never been done in the history of the Clans.” Crookedstar’s eyes were narrowed into slits. “When there isn’t enough prey to eat, we hunt on the other Clans’ territories.”

“But you just said that we can’t do that! We can’t trespass on the moor without starting a war with WindClan, and it’s not as though we can reach ThunderClan’s territory. If we go on like this, we’re all going to starve. The only logical solution is to hunt on the other side of our far border. With the river poisoned, we can’t-”

“Wait,” Fireheart cut in. “The river is poisoned?”

Crookedstar clamped his mouth shut and shot his daughter a furious look. She had just given away one of RiverClan’s weaknesses. But Silverstream didn’t look regretful.

“The Twolegs have moved on, but they’ve left piles of their trash lying around. It’s been leaking into the river and affecting the fish. We can’t move the piles until the floods go down, and we can’t eat the poisoned fish until we do. Birdsong died because of it. We’re going hungry every night as we try to live off of minnows and land prey-”

“Silverstream!” interrupted Crookedstar. “That’s quite enough. This is none of his business.”

“We’re starving, Fireheart.” She fixed him with her blue gaze. “RiverClan has been miserable for moons. First Brokenstar forced us to give ShadowClan hunting rights, then the Twolegs moved in and stopped us from fishing. Then came the ice, which made it even harder. And now the ice has melted and the Twolegs are gone, but half of our land is covered in water and all of our fish are poisoned!”

He looked between them. Sympathy swirled beneath his pelt. RiverClan had gone through so much, and although they had persisted all through leaf-fall and leaf-bare, the thought of them being poisoned by Twolegs made bile rise in his throat. He felt a flash of guilt too, at how he had taken ThunderClan’s own prey-plentifulness for granted. “You’re starving?”

“We’re starving,” she repeated.

“What if…” He knew it would be breaking the warrior code the moment the idea came to him, but how could he let cats die just because they happened to be born on the other side of the river? “What if I hunted ThunderClan prey and brought it to you?”

“What?” Crookedstar stared at him.

“Greystripe would help too,” Fireheart went on with a glance at Silverstream. “But we have more than we need. My Clanmates won’t even notice. We could meet you on the border at dawn, until the floods dry up.”

Silverstream tilted her head. “You would do that for us?”

It was too late to go back now. “Yes, I would.”

“No,” growled Crookedstar. “I can’t possibly allow that. We cannot afford to be in debt to ThunderClan.”

Taking a step forward, Fireheart stared at him. “You won’t. No one but Greystripe and I will know about this, and we won’t ever ask for anything in exchange. Let us help.”

The tabby hesitated. Silverstream caught his eye. “Please, Father. Don’t let us starve for the sake of your pride.”

Several long moments passed by before Crookedstar swung his head away. “Very well. I shall send a patrol to meet you at this part of the border tomorrow. As soon as RiverClan can rely on itself again, this deal will be over.” He paused, then added, “Thank you, Fireheart. We will leave you here now. I’m sure you can find your own way to the border.”

Fireheart dipped his head and watched as the father and daughter retraced their steps across the grass. Silverstream looked back at him once, as if to thank him, and hurried away. If ThunderClan discovers that I’m giving away their prey… He shuddered at the thought.

Well, it’s a good job they won’t find out, he thought to himself, pushing away his concerns. Besides, I may be breaking the code, but this is the right thing to do. I’m sure of it.

Chapter 15: Chapter 13

Fireheart slipped through the trees, his ears pricked to pick up the slightest hint of another cat. His jaws were laden with prey as he travelled through the forest beneath the grey light of dawn, making his way towards the usual meeting spot with a RiverClan patrol.

Greystripe walked beside him with a rabbit between his teeth. The warrior had been surprised but not unhappy when Fireheart had told him about his offer. After all, Silverstream had already told him about the poisoned river during his time in RiverClan’s temporary camp.

“We’ll be crowfood if Bluestar finds out we’re doing this,” meowed Greystripe around his catch’s fur. “This is a terrible idea. What if we get caught?” But Fireheart knew he didn’t mean it. Greystripe would never let his mate’s Clanmates starve, not if he could do something about it.

They emerged onto the Twoleg path that marked the border with RiverClan. A moment later, the bushes on the opposite side rustled, and two cats - Leopardfur and Stonefur - stepped into the open. The ThunderClan toms passed over the prey, and with a nod, Leopardfur led Stonefur away again.

The familiar routine had been going on for a half-moon now. Fireheart and Greystripe would set out as the moon sank through the lightening sky and hunt as much as they could, and then they would meet a pair of RiverClan warriors on the border. No words were exchanged; they didn’t want to risk attracting the attention of any cats who might have come out for an early morning walk.

“How long do you think it’ll be before the river goes back to normal?” Greystripe asked as they headed back to the ravine.

“The floods are already shrinking,” replied Fireheart. “And RiverClan have already moved back into their camp. With any luck, it won’t be long before they can get rid of the Twoleg trash and start eating the fish again.”

“I hope so.” Greystripe’s eyes glimmered with worry. “I don’t want any more of Silverstream’s friends to die.”

He pressed comfortingly against his friend’s side. As they descended towards the gorse barrier, he went over their reason for leaving camp so early - he had had a bad dream and Greystripe had gone with him for a drink.

They saw that ThunderClan was waking up by the time they pushed through the entrance. Dustpelt was washing quickly by the Highrock, preparing to lead Mousefur, Longtail, and Swiftpaw on the dawn patrol. Halftail and Whiteeye chatted with Bluestar outside of the elder’s den, while Frostfur watched as Brightkit and Thornkit talked with Brackenpaw about battle training.

Whitestorm emerged from the warrior’s den with a yawn, then padded across to meet them in the middle of the clearing. “Where are you two coming back from?” Fireheart quickly relayed the lie, and to his relief, the white tom didn’t question it. “Well, I hope you’re well-rested enough to carry out your duties. Greystripe, I need you to join your mother’s hunting party - they’ll be ready to go soon. And Fireheart, the bramble roof of the medicine den needs fixing up. Get started on that, and I’ll send someone to help you in a moment.”

“Can’t we eat first?” complained Greystripe.

He flicked his son over the head with his tail. “Do it quickly.”

Purring, Greystripe hurried over to the fresh-kill pile. Fireheart followed more slowly, his thoughts drifting to Mistyfoot and Stonefur like they always did. It hadn’t taken long to come up with a plan to discover Oakheart’s secret mate, but impatience burned in his stomach at the knowledge that he couldn’t carry it out just yet. He had to speak with Silverstream at the next Gathering, and then it could go ahead.

After he’d wolfed down a mouse, Fireheart left Greystripe and brushed through the ferns that hid the entrance to the medicine den. Yellowfang was working inside, scooping together and fluffing up moss to make them into nests. Cinderpaw was curled up in the corner with her injured leg sticking out to the side.

“Hello, Fireheart,” the old cat greeted him.

“Hi. Whitestorm sent me to fix the roof.” He glanced upwards. A hole had been torn in the brambles to reveal the trees outside.

“You’d be better off working on it from outside camp. I don’t want you making a mess in here trying to weave everything back together.”

“I’ll do that.” Fireheart turned to leave, before looking back at Cinderpaw. “Has she asked you yet?” he meowed carefully, not wanting to give away the apprentice’s wish.

Yellowfang returned his gaze through knowing eyes. “About being my apprentice? No, she hasn’t.”

“You know?”

“Of course I know. It’s been almost two moons since her accident; if she wanted to be a warrior, she would’ve begun training again a long time ago. In the meantime, I’ve been teaching her about herbs, but I can’t introduce her to StarClan until it becomes official.” She paused. “Don’t worry. It’ll happen soon. I can tell.”

****

“Greystripe,” Fireheart hissed. “Greystripe, wake up.”

The thick-furred tom stirred and tucked his face under his forepaws. “It’s too early. Go away.”

He lowered his head to nudge him on the shoulder. “Come on,” he whispered. “We’ve got to hunt for RiverClan.”

At last, Greystripe sat up. He shook out his pelt with a tired groan and clambered to his paws. “Let’s go then,” he murmured, stifling a yawn.

Fireheart was just as exhausted as his friend. Another few days had gone by, and waking up before dawn every day had taken its toll. His paws dragged on the ground and his eyelids felt as heavy as stones, but still he made sure to scan the den and make sure no one else was awake.

Every other warrior was still curled up - every warrior except Goldenflower and Tigerclaw. Their nest in the very centre was empty.

His stomach dropped. Motioning for Greystripe to keep quiet, he crept to the entrance and peered out into the clearing, only for relief to wash over him. Wherever they were, it wasn’t the camp. He and Greystripe could sneak out without running into them.

The first streaks of light were visible on the horizon as they crept through the gorse tunnel and up the side of the ravine. Once they had gone quite a good distance, Fireheart halted, drew in a deep breath, and immediately tensed. A rabbit had wandered out of its burrow behind the bushes on the left and was now hopping slowly across the grass. But that hadn’t caused his reaction. Tigerclaw and Goldenflower were nearby.

Fireheart signalled for Greystripe to go on without him, and as soon as his companion had wandered away, he slinked through the trees towards the pair. If they noticed him, they would surely ask what he was doing out in the dark, but curiosity urged him on. He ducked under a bramble thicket and found himself at the edge of a large glade.

A stream carved a path through the ground, bubbling and rippling as it flowed over rounded pebbles. Tigerclaw and Goldenflower leaped around in the long grass with rumbling purrs. The golden tabby sprang into the water and swiped her paw across the surface, sending up droplets that splashed across the deputy’s face. Tigerclaw retaliated by tackling her onto dry land, and they flipped over and over in a wrestle.

Tigerclaw was the strongest of the two, but Goldenflower, with her broad shoulders and thick pelt, was not that much smaller than him. A few heartbeats later and she had him pinned down on his back. Her paw came forward to his neck, her claws pricking at his throat.

“Got you,” she teased.

“So you have,” he replied.

She rolled off of him and sat down. He didn’t move from his position, only lifted his gaze to the fading stars. Neither cat said anything for a while. Then Goldenflower meowed; “I’ve missed this.” She looked down at him. “Ever since you became deputy, you’ve been so busy with your duties that we hardly ever spend time together.”

“I know; I’m sorry.” Tigerclaw pulled himself upright. “I’ll make time for you, I promise.”

“You better.” She prodded him with one paw. “I can’t wait for our kits to be born. Swiftpaw’s so excited.” Her smile faltered. “What if any of them are stillborn? Like Lynxkit?”

He rasped his tongue over her ear. “They won’t. I’m sure of it.”

Goldenflower blinked warmly at him. “We need to start deciding on what to call them. I know you wanted to call one ‘Sharpkit’, but there aren't a lot of warrior names that can go with that. I was thinking…”

Fireheart backed away, muscles tense. It unsettled him to see Tigerclaw behaving like that. This cat was a murderer, a liar. He was evil. And yet here he was, playing with his mate like a young warrior. Heart pounding in his chest, Fireheart turned and fled back through the forest.

****

As usual, the top of the sun was visible over the treetops by the time Fireheart and Greystripe arrived at the path. He was still troubled by what he had seen. How could Tigerclaw murder Redtail - a cat he had grown up with, attempt to kill Bluestar, and terrorise Ravenpaw, and yet be so loving with Goldenflower? It didn’t make any sense.

“Greetings.” Sedgecreek slipped out of the bushes, abandoning the agreed-upon silence for a grateful smile. Loudbelly followed with a wary glance around. “We’ve been able to move the piles today. With any luck, we’ll be back to eating the fish in a few days. This is the last time you’ll have to bring us prey.”

“Thank StarClan for that,” Greystripe breathed. Fireheart had to agree with him. He hadn’t liked having to break the warrior code and lie to ThunderClan, even though it was the right thing to do.

Sedgecreek dipped her head. “Thank you, Fireheart, Greystripe. RiverClan will not forget this.”

Loudbelly opened his mouth to add something, before tensing. He snatched up a few pieces of prey and whipped around to spring away, but a sharp voice made them all freeze.

“Wait.”

Fireheart turned slowly, every hair on his pelt bristling, as Bluestar strode into the open. Her stare flicked over Fireheart and Greystripe, then the two RiverClan cats, and finally to the prey on the ground and in Loudbelly’s jaws.

“What is going on here?”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of A Warrior Cats Rewrite