Fire And Ice

“Me too,” Fireheart admitted.

They shared tongues until the moon rose and the coldness of the night drove them into their den. Graystripe was snoring within moments, but Fireheart felt strangely awake. The image of the pregnant she-cat kept returning to his mind, and even though he was surrounded by the familiar smells of ThunderClan, her soft kittypet scent lingered in his nostrils.

He fell asleep at last, but his dreams all carried the same scent, until finally he dreamed of his days as a kit. He remembered lying beside his mother’s belly, curled in a bed softer than any forest moss with his brothers and sisters. And still the scent of the she-cat lingered.

Fireheart opened his eyes, suddenly jolted out of his sleep. Of course! The she-cat he had seen in the woods…was his sister!

Chapter 10

Fireheart woke at dawn with the image of his sister still clear in his mind. He pushed his way out of the den, hoping the routine of the day would distract him. It was another cold, frosty morning. Whitestorm and Longtail were waiting near the camp entrance, preparing to leave on patrol. Mousefur padded past on her way to join them and greeted Fireheart with a cheery mew. Whitestorm called for Sandpaw, who came racing out of her den just in time to follow the patrol as it pounded out of the camp. It was a scene Fireheart had watched many times, but for once he didn’t yearn to join them as they thundered away into the morning-fresh forest.

He padded across the clearing, wondering if Cinderpaw was awake yet. Brindleface was just squeezing out of the narrow nursery entrance. A speckled kit followed her, then one more. A third kit, pale gray with darker flecks like the other, tumbled out and fell onto the ground.

Brindleface picked it up by its scruff and placed it gently back on its paws. The tenderness of Brindleface’s action brought Fireheart’s dream flooding back. His mother had probably done the same for him. He knew that Brindleface’s fourth kit had died soon after it was born, and she seemed to love the remaining kits even more fiercely now.

Fireheart was overwhelmed by a pang of envy at the thought that the other cats here all shared something he did not—they were all Clanborn. Fireheart had always been proud of his loyalty to the Clan that had taken him in and given him a life he would never have known as a kittypet. He still felt that loyalty—he would die to protect ThunderClan—but no one in the Clan understood or even respected his kittypet roots. Fireheart felt certain the she-cat he had seen yesterday would. With an ache in his heart, he wondered what memories they might share.

Fireheart heard Graystripe’s heavy pawsteps behind him. He turned to greet his friend, stretching his head to touch Graystripe’s nose, and asked, “Could you take Cinderpaw for the day?”

Graystripe looked curiously at Fireheart. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing important,” replied Fireheart as casually as he could. “I just wanted to check out something I saw yesterday. Watch out for Cinderpaw, though; she doesn’t listen to orders very well. Don’t take your eyes off her or she’ll be charging off in every direction.”

Graystripe’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “She sounds like a pawful! Still, it’ll be good for Brackenpaw. He never charges off anywhere without thinking about it carefully first.”

“Thanks, Graystripe!” Fireheart bounded away toward the camp entrance before his friend could remember to ask him where he was going.

As the Twolegplace came into view through the trees, Fireheart dropped into a crouch. He opened his mouth and breathed in the cold morning air. No sign of a ThunderClan patrol, and no Twoleg scents either. He relaxed a little.

Slowly he approached the Twoleg fence where he had seen the she-cat disappear. He hesitated at the bottom and looked around, sniffing the air once more. Then he leaped, landing on a fence post in one easy jump. No Twolegs to be seen—just an empty garden with its strongly scented plants.

Fireheart felt exposed on the post. The branch of a tree hung low overhead. Its leaves had gone, but it would be easier to hide there. Silently he pulled himself up and lay down to wait, flattening himself against the rough bark.

Fireheart could see a swinging flap in the entrance to the Twolegplace. He had used one just like it as a kit. He fixed his gaze on the flap, hoping his sister’s face would appear at any moment. The sun rose slowly into the morning sky, but Fireheart started to feel cold. The damp branch was drawing the heat from his body. Perhaps the Twolegs were keeping his sister shut in. After all, her kitting would be soon. Fireheart licked a paw and wondered if he should go back to the camp.