Fire And Ice

As the first flare of happiness settled inside him, Fireheart thought of the rest of his Clan, and how desperately they needed fighting cats. Cinderpaw would never be a warrior now. And what if the greencough took more lives than just Bluestar’s? ThunderClan might need this kit.

He was suddenly aware of the rain clinging to his fur. The kit needed shelter, and soon. It looked strong, but it was still too small to withstand the cold and wet for long.

“I’ll take him,” he meowed. “This is a great gift you’ve given to ThunderClan. And I’ll train him to be the finest warrior the Clan has ever seen!” He dipped his head and scooped up the kit by his scruff.

Princess’s eyes shone with gratitude and pride. “Thank you, Fireheart,” she purred. “Who knows, maybe he’ll even become a leader and be given nine lives!”

Fireheart gazed fondly at her trusting, hopeful face. Did his sister really believe this might happen? Then a twinge of doubt pricked him. He was taking this tiny kit back to a camp infected by greencough. What if he didn’t even make it to newleaf? But the cozy scent of the kit under his muzzle soothed him. The kit would survive. It was strong, and it shared his blood. Fireheart took a deep breath. He must be quick—the kit was getting cold already. He blinked a farewell at Princess and raced away into the bushes.

The kit was heavier than he’d expected. It dangled from his mouth, bumping against his forelegs with faint protesting squeaks. By the time Fireheart reached the top of the ravine, his neck was aching. He made his way down to the camp, putting one paw carefully in front of the other, wary of slipping on the fast-melting snow.

At the entrance, Fireheart hesitated. For the first time he wondered how he would explain this kit to the Clan—he was going to have to admit to visiting his kittypet sister. But it was too late now. He could feel the kit shivering. Fireheart squared his shoulders and padded through the gorse tunnel. The kit let out a deafening wail as a thorn tugged at its fur. Several pairs of eyes turned to look in amazement as Fireheart emerged into the clearing.

Both hunting parties had returned. Mousefur, Whitestorm, Sandpaw, and Brackenpaw were all in the clearing. Only Graystripe was missing. One by one the rest of the Clan were drawn out of their dens by the noise and the unfamiliar scent. None of the cats made a sound. They stared at Fireheart with hostile, puzzled eyes as though he were a stranger.

Fireheart turned slowly in the center of the clearing, the kit still dangling from his mouth, and looked at the ring of questioning eyes. His mouth began to feel dry. Why had he assumed the Clan would accept a kit that wasn’t even forest-born?

He felt a rush of relief when Bluestar emerged from Yellowfang’s den. But her eyes widened in surprise as she saw him. “What is this?” she demanded.

A tremor of foreboding ran along Fireheart’s spine. He placed the kit between his front paws and wrapped his tail over it to keep it warm. “It’s my sister’s firstborn,” he replied.

“Your sister!” Tigerclaw glared at him accusingly.

“You have a sister?” called Speckletail. “Where?”

“The same place as Fireheart was born, of course,” Longtail hissed with disgust. “Twolegplace!”

“Is that true?” Bluestar asked, her eyes widening further.

“Yes,” Fireheart admitted. “My sister gave it to me to bring to the Clan.”

“And why would she do that?” Bluestar asked with menacing calm.

Fireheart stammered nervously. “I told her about Clan life—how great it was…” His voice trailed away under Bluestar’s incredulous gaze.

“How long have you been visiting Twolegplace?”

“Not long, just since leaf-bare began. But only to see my sister. My loyalty still lies with ThunderClan.”

“Loyalty?” Darkstripe’s yowl rang out across the clearing. “And yet you bring a kittypet here?”

“Isn’t having one kittypet in the Clan enough?” croaked one of the elders.

“Trust a kittypet to find another kittypet!” snarled Dustpaw, ruffling his fur indignantly. He turned to Sandpaw and nudged her with his nose. Sandpaw glanced uncomfortably at Fireheart and then looked down at her paws.

“Why have you brought it here?” Tigerclaw growled.

“We need warriors…” The tiny kit squirmed beneath his belly as he spoke, and Fireheart realized how ridiculous he must sound. He bowed his head as yowls of scorn met his words.

When the insults had died away, Runningwind spoke up. “The Clan has enough to worry about already without this.”

“It’ll be nothing but a burden,” Mousefur agreed. “It’ll be at least five moons before it’s ready to begin training.”

Whitestorm nodded his head in agreement. “You shouldn’t have brought this kittypet here, Fireheart,” he meowed. “It’ll be too soft for Clan life.”

Fireheart bristled. “I was born a kittypet. Am I soft?” He thought that he’d begun to challenge the Clan’s prejudice against kittypets, but he was wrong. He couldn’t see one friendly face in the crowd.

A voice sounded from behind Whitestorm. “If it carries Fireheart’s blood, it’ll make a good Clan cat.”