Fire And Ice

As he turned to leave, Princess called, “Take care, brother. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” Fireheart promised.

“Good thinking, Fireheart,” purred Whitestorm. He had seen Fireheart pad back into camp with his jaws crammed with catnip.

Fireheart’s mouth had been watering all the way home, although he was beginning to think he’d be happy never to see another catnip bush again. But he was happier than when he’d left the camp. His sister had safely kitted and his head felt clearer.

He was heading toward Yellowfang’s den when Tigerclaw appeared at his side.

“More catnip?” observed the great tabby, his eyes suspicious. “I wondered where you’d gone. Brackenpaw can take that to Yellowfang.”

Brackenpaw was helping to clear away snow nearby.

“Come and take this catnip to Yellowfang,” Tigerclaw ordered the apprentice.

Brackenpaw nodded and bounded over at once.

Fireheart dropped the bunch of leaves onto the ground. “I wanted to visit Cinderpaw,” he meowed to Tigerclaw.

“Later,” growled the deputy. He waited while Brackenpaw picked up the catnip and carried it off to Yellowfang’s den. Then he turned back to Fireheart. “I want to know where Graystripe has been going.”

Fireheart felt the heat rising under his fur. “I don’t know,” he replied, holding Tigerclaw’s gaze.

Tigerclaw stared back at him, his eyes cold and hostile. “When you see him,” he hissed, “you can tell him he’s confined to the fallen oak.”

“Yellowfang’s old den?” Fireheart glanced at the tangled branches where the medicine cat had lived when she first came into the ThunderClan camp, when she was still considered a ShadowClan outcast. Swiftpaw was there, lying beside Speckletail’s dark tabby kit.

“Cats with whitecough are confined there until they are well again.”

“But Graystripe only has a cold,” Fireheart protested.

“A cold is bad enough. He’ll stay at the fallen oak!” Tigerclaw repeated. “Cats with greencough are to nest with Yellowfang. We must stop this sickness from spreading.” The deputy’s eyes flashed unsympathetically. Fireheart wondered if he thought of illness as a sign of weakness. “It is for the good of the Clan,” Tigerclaw added.

“Yes, Tigerclaw. I’ll tell Graystripe.”

“And keep away from Bluestar,” the deputy warned.

“But the greencough has left her,” Fireheart objected.

“I am aware of that, but her den still reeks of the sickness. I can’t afford to have any of my warriors falling ill. Whitestorm tells me that RiverClan warriors have been scented even closer to the camp. He also told me he had to train Brackenpaw today. I expect you to take charge of Brackenpaw’s training tomorrow.”

Fireheart nodded. “May I go and see Cinderpaw now?”

Tigerclaw looked at him.

“I doubt if Yellowfang has put her anywhere near the cats with greencough,” Fireheart added with a flash of irritation. “I won’t get infected.”

“Very well,” Tigerclaw agreed, and stalked away.

Fireheart met Brackenpaw in the middle of the clearing. “Yellowfang was very grateful for the catnip,” Brackenpaw mewed.

“Good,” answered Fireheart. “By the way, I’m teaching you how to catch birds tomorrow. I hope you’re ready for a bit of tree climbing.”

Brackenpaw’s whiskers twitched excitedly. “Definitely. I’ll meet you at the training hollow.”

Fireheart nodded and carried on to Yellowfang’s den. He spotted Brindleface’s poor kits straightaway. They lay quietly in a bracken nest, coughing, their noses and eyes streaming.

Yellowfang greeted him. “Thanks for the catnip; we’re going to need it. Patchpelt has greencough now.” She gestured with her nose toward another nest in the bracken. Inside, Fireheart could see the old tom’s matted black-and-white fur.

“How’s Cinderpaw?” he asked, looking back at the medicine cat.

Yellowfang sighed. “She was awake earlier, but not for long. She has an infection in her leg. StarClan knows, I’ve tried everything, but she must fight this one herself.”

Fireheart peered into Cinderpaw’s nest. The little gray cat was twitching in her sleep, her injured leg twisted awkwardly to one side. Fireheart shuddered, suddenly afraid she might yet lose this struggle. He turned back to Yellowfang, looking for words of encouragement, but the medicine cat sat with her head low. She looked exhausted.

“Do you think Spottedleaf would have been able to save these cats?” she meowed unexpectedly, raising her head to meet his gaze.

Fireheart shivered. He could still sense Spottedleaf’s presence here in the clearing. He remembered how efficiently she’d tended to Ravenpaw’s shoulder wound after the battle with RiverClan, and how carefully she’d advised him about caring for Yellowfang when the old she-cat had first come to the ThunderClan camp. Then he looked at Yellowfang, her shoulders weighed down with experience. “I’m sure there’s nothing Spottedleaf would have done differently,” he told her.