Fire And Ice

“I should go,” Princess mewed. “They’ll be worried if I don’t go back, and I have many tiny mouths to feed. I can feel them moving inside me.” She glanced at her swollen belly, her eyes soft.

Fireheart looked out from beneath the bush. “Go, then. I have to return to my Clan anyway. But I’ll come back and see you.”

“Yes, I’d like that!” Princess called over her shoulder. She was already trotting back toward her Twoleg nest. “Good-bye!”

“See you soon,” Fireheart called. His sister disappeared from view, and he heard the swinging flap slap shut behind her.

Once the garden was silent, Fireheart crept through the bushes to the fence. He jumped over it and ran into the forest. Memories of kithood scents crowded his mind, suddenly more real than the scents of the forest around him.

Fireheart paused at the top of the ravine and looked down at the ThunderClan camp. He didn’t feel ready to go back yet. He was worried that it would all seem strange to him. I’ll go and hunt, he thought. Cinderpaw would be safe with Graystripe for a while longer, and the Clan would welcome any extra fresh-kill. He turned away and headed back into the forest.

When he finally returned to camp, he carried a vole and a wood pigeon in his mouth. The sun was setting, and the Clan cats were gathering for their evening meal. Graystripe sat alone beside the nettle clump, a fat chaffinch at his paws. Fireheart nodded to him as he padded across the clearing to the pile of fresh-kill that had already been collected.

Tigerclaw was sitting below the Highrock, his amber eyes narrow. “I noticed that Cinderpaw spent the day with Graystripe,” he meowed as Fireheart dropped his catch onto the pile. “Where were you?”

Fireheart returned Tigerclaw’s gaze. “It seemed a good day for hunting—too good to waste,” he replied, his heart thudding in his chest. “The Clan needs all the fresh-kill it can get at the moment.”

Tigerclaw nodded, suspicion darkening his eyes. “Yes, but we also need warriors. Cinderpaw’s training is your responsibility.”

“I understand, Tigerclaw,” Fireheart meowed. He dipped his head respectfully. “I’ll take her out tomorrow.”

“Good.” The deputy turned his head and looked around the camp. Fireheart picked up a mouse and carried it over to eat next to Graystripe.

“Find what you were looking for?” asked Graystripe absently.

“Yes.” Fireheart felt a pang of sorrow for the pain in his friend’s eyes. “Are you thinking about that RiverClan warrior?”

“I do try not to,” answered Graystripe quietly. “It’s just when I’m alone I can’t help remembering Barkface’s prediction of an unnecessary death and trouble ahead—”

“Here,” Fireheart interrupted, and pushed his mouse toward Graystripe. “That chaffinch looks like it’ll be half feathers, and I’m not that hungry. Want to swap?” Graystripe shot him a grateful glance, and the two friends exchanged prey and began to eat.

As he crunched on the chaffinch, Fireheart scanned the clearing. He could see Sandpaw and Dustpaw outside the apprentices’ den. Dustpaw was busy ripping apart a rabbit. Fireheart caught Sandpaw’s eye but she looked away.

Cinderpaw lay beside the old tree stump where he’d shared many meals as an apprentice. She was chatting enthusiastically to Brackenpaw, who nodded from time to time while plucking the feathers from a sparrow. Seeing the two young cats—brother and sister—lying together, so at ease, reminded Fireheart once more of Princess, and for the first time the familiar sights of his clan made Fireheart feel uneasy. He had been careful to lick his sister’s smell from his fur before returning to camp, but it was her scent that lingered in his nostrils as the sun disappeared over the distant horizon. He had found the closeness he had missed, but it had given shape to a sense of loneliness that, until now, had lain vague and nameless in his heart. Were the deep-rooted memories he shared with Princess stronger than his loyalty to the Clan?

Chapter 11

“Another day of sunshine!” Fireheart purred to Graystripe, feeling his flame-colored pelt glow in the weak morning sun. Thanks to the fine weather, he had visited Princess nearly every day recently, slipping away to see her between patrols, hunting, and training sessions. Now he walked with his friend along the short trail to the sandy hollow where Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw would be waiting.

“Let’s hope it stays clear for the rest of leaf-bare,” Graystripe meowed. Fireheart knew how much his thick-coated friend hated rain—when Graystripe’s fur got wet, it clung to him and stayed damp long after Fireheart’s shorter fur had dried off.

The two warriors arrived at the edge of the hollow just as Cinderpaw pounced on a pile of frosty leaves, sending them flying in all directions. She leaped and twisted to catch one as it fluttered back to the ground.

Fireheart and Graystripe glanced at each other, amused.