Fire And Ice

“Yellowfang has given her catnip and feverfew,” Goldenflower murmured to Fireheart. “We can only watch and wait now.” She got to her paws and touched Fireheart’s nose with her muzzle. “Will you be okay to sit with her?” she asked gently. Fireheart nodded and Goldenflower padded softly out of the den.

Fireheart lowered himself onto his belly, stretching his forepaws in front of him so that they just touched his leader’s face. He lay very still, his eyes fixed on Bluestar’s limp body. She didn’t even have the strength to cough now. Fireheart could hear her breathing in the darkness, shallow and rasping, and he listened to the faltering rhythm as the night slowly passed.

Her breathing stopped just before dawn. Fireheart had almost dozed off when he realized the cave was silent. There was no noise from the camp outside either, just a deathly hush, as if the whole Clan were holding its breath.

Bluestar was completely still. Fireheart knew she was with StarClan, preparing for her remaining life. He had watched Bluestar lose a life before. He felt his fur prickle at the eerie peace that seemed to enfold her body, but there was nothing he could do, so he waited.

Suddenly Bluestar gasped. “Fireheart, is that you?” she meowed in a croaky voice.

“Yes, Bluestar,” Fireheart murmured. “I’m here.”

“I have lost another life.” Bluestar’s voice was weak, but the relief made Fireheart want to reach forward and lick her between the ears, as Goldenflower had done. “When I lose this one, I will not be able to return.”

Fireheart swallowed hard. The thought of the Clan losing its great leader pained him, but the thought of losing his mentor and friend hurt even more. “How do you feel? Shall I fetch Yellowfang?”

Bluestar shook her head slowly. “The fever has gone. I am well enough. I just need to rest.”

“Very well,” meowed Fireheart. Light was beginning to filter through the lichen, and his head swam from his wakeful night.

“You must be tired,” meowed Bluestar. “Go and get some sleep.”

“Yes.” Fireheart heaved himself up. His legs felt stiff from lying so long. “Is there anything you need?”

“No. Just tell Yellowfang what has happened,” answered Bluestar. “Thank you for sitting with me.”

Fireheart tried to purr but it caught in his throat. There would be time for more words later. He pushed his way out through the lichen.

Outside a harsh brightness made him blink. It had snowed in the night. Fireheart stared in amazement. He had never seen snow before—his Twoleg owners had kept him shut inside when he was a very young kit whenever it was cold. But he’d heard the Clan elders talk of it. He nodded to Darkstripe, who had replaced Longtail guarding Bluestar’s den, and stepped into the strange powder. It felt wet and cold, crunching loudly under his paws.

Tigerclaw was standing in the clearing. It was still snowing and the flakes settled on the tabby’s thick fur without melting. Fireheart could hear him giving orders for the nursery wall to be padded with leaves to keep out the cold. “Then I want a hole to be scraped out where we can store prey,” the ThunderClan deputy instructed. “Use snow to line it, and cover it with more snow once it has been filled. We may as well make use of the snow while it’s here.”

Warriors raced around Tigerclaw, following his orders. “Mousefur, Longtail! Organize some hunting parties. We need as much fresh-kill as we can get before the prey takes to their burrows for good!” Tigerclaw spotted Fireheart padding across the clearing. “Fireheart, wait,” he called. “Oh, I suppose you’ll have to rest. I can’t imagine you’ll be any use on a hunting party this morning.”

Fireheart stared at the dark warrior, hostility rising like bile in his throat. “I’m going to see how Cinderpaw is first,” he growled.

Tigerclaw held his gaze for a moment. “How’s Bluestar?”

Mistrust ruffled Fireheart’s fur like a cold breeze. He’d heard Bluestar lie to Tigerclaw once before about how many lives she had left. “I’m no medicine cat,” he answered. “I can’t say.”

Tigerclaw snorted impatiently, then turned away and went back to giving orders. Fireheart walked over to Yellowfang’s den, relieved to escape the frenetic bustle of the camp. His heart began to pound as he wondered what state he would find Cinderpaw in. “Yellowfang,” he called.

“Hush!” Yellowfang sprang from Cinderpaw’s bracken nest. “She’s sleeping at last. She’s had a hard night. I couldn’t give her poppy seeds to ease the pain until she’d recovered from the shock.”

“But she’s going to live?” Fireheart’s legs felt wobbly with relief.

“I can’t be for sure for a few days. She’s hurt inside, and one of her hind legs is badly broken.”

“But it’ll mend, won’t it?” Fireheart pleaded desperately. “She’ll be training again by newleaf?”

Yellowfang shook her head, her yellow eyes sympathetic. “Fireheart, whatever happens, Cinderpaw will never be a warrior now.”