Fire And Ice

As the sun sank into the forest, Fireheart waited beside the pine tree where Cinderpaw had buried her first lot of fresh-kill. He heard pawsteps and turned to see Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw padding toward him. Prey dangled from their mouths. Brackenpaw could barely hold his catch, it was so big. Fireheart felt a surge of relief. Even Tigerclaw couldn’t criticize the apprentices’ efforts.

“I’ll help carry this lot back,” Fireheart offered, flicking away the covering of pine needles from Cinderpaw’s stash. He dug it up, grasped the fresh-kill between his teeth, and set off back to the camp.

When they arrived in the camp clearing, some of the Clan cats were already taking their share of fresh-kill from the pile. Tigerclaw must have been looking out for their return, because he padded over to them as they dropped their catch near the rest.

“They caught all this themselves?” he asked, nudging the pile with a massive paw.

“Oh, yes,” Fireheart replied.

“Good,” meowed Tigerclaw. “Come and join me and Bluestar. Bring some fresh-kill for yourself; we’re already eating.”

Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw looked at Fireheart with admiring stares—it was a privilege to eat with the Clan leader and deputy. Fireheart didn’t share their excitement. He’d hoped that he would report to Bluestar alone. The last cat he wanted to share his meal with was Tigerclaw.

“By the way, have you seen Graystripe?” asked Tigerclaw. Fireheart felt a pang of concern as Tigerclaw continued: “He’s supposed to stay in camp while he has this cold, but I haven’t seen him since sunhigh.”

Fireheart shifted his paws. Had Graystripe gone off looking for peace and quiet again? “No,” he admitted. “Perhaps he’s with Yellowfang?”

“Perhaps,” echoed Tigerclaw, and padded away to where Bluestar was gnawing a fat pigeon.

Fireheart followed, trying to push away his growing worry about Graystripe’s disappearances. He selected a small chaffinch from the pile of fresh-kill as he passed, then wished he’d chosen a vole. How was he going to give his report with a mouthful of feathers?

“Welcome, Fireheart,” meowed Bluestar as Fireheart sat down in front of her. He placed the chaffinch on the ground, but decided not to start eating.

“Tigerclaw tells me your apprentices caught plenty of prey.” Bluestar’s gaze was friendly. Tigerclaw, sitting up beside her, glared at him more critically, making Fireheart’s tail twitch.

“Yes. They’ve never hunted in the mist before, but it didn’t seem to put either of them off,” Fireheart meowed. “I watched Brackenpaw catch a wood mouse. His stalking was excellent.”

“And what about Cinderpaw?” asked Bluestar.

Fireheart noticed a steely glint appear in her eyes. Was she worried about Cinderpaw’s abilities? Fireheart replied, “Her hunting skills are developing well. She has lots of enthusiasm, that’s for sure, and she doesn’t seem to be scared of anything.”

“Aren’t you worried that might make her reckless?” asked Bluestar.

“She’s quick and inquisitive, which makes her a good learner. I think that will make up for her”—Fireheart searched anxiously for the right word—“eagerness.”

Bluestar flicked her tail. “Her eagerness, as you say, worries me,” she meowed, flashing a glance at Tigerclaw. “She will need careful guidance in her training.” Fireheart’s spirits plummeted. Was Bluestar unhappy with his mentoring?

Bluestar’s eyes softened. “She was always going to be a challenge. But she is clearly turning into a fine hunter. You have done good work with her, Fireheart. With both of them, in fact.” Fireheart brightened immediately, and Bluestar went on. “I’ve noticed how you’ve taken over Brackenpaw’s training without being asked, and I want you to carry on mentoring them both for the time being.”

Tigerclaw turned his gaze away, but Fireheart didn’t miss the anger that flashed in his eyes. “Thank you, Bluestar,” he meowed.

“I see your missing friend has returned,” Tigerclaw growled without turning his head.

Fireheart spun around to see Graystripe appearing from behind the nursery. “He was probably just getting some peace and quiet,” he suggested. “He’s still feverish, and it can’t be easy being stuck in the camp all day.”

“Easy or not, he should be concentrating on getting better,” meowed Tigerclaw. “Leaf-bare is no time for sickness in the camp. Mousefur was coughing on patrol this morning. I just hope StarClan protects us from greencough this season. We lost five kits to it last year.”

Bluestar nodded her gray head solemnly. “Let’s pray this leaf-bare isn’t as long or as hard. It’s never an easy time for the Clans.” She looked wistful for a moment, then told Fireheart, “Take that chaffinch and share it with Graystripe. He’ll want to know how his apprentice did in the assessment.”

“Yes, Bluestar. Thanks,” meowed Fireheart. He picked up the chaffinch and bounded over to the nettle clump where Graystripe had settled himself with a large wood mouse. Graystripe had eaten half of it by the time Fireheart arrived. Perhaps his cold was on the mend.