Fire And Ice

The sound of paws pounding through the gorse tunnel broke into his thoughts. Bluestar came rushing into the camp, followed by Longtail and Swiftpaw. Fireheart felt his shoulders droop with relief at the sight of his Clan leader. She looked around at the blood-spattered clearing, her eyes wide, until her gaze rested on Clawface’s body. “Brokenstar attacked?” she meowed.

Fireheart nodded.

“Is he dead?”

“He’s with Yellowfang,” Fireheart answered, forcing out the words in spite of his exhaustion. “He’s been wounded—his eyes.”

“And the other rogue warriors?”

“We chased them off.”

“Are any of our Clan badly hurt?” Bluestar demanded, looking once more around the clearing. The cats shook their heads. “Good,” she meowed. “Sandpaw, Swiftpaw, take this body out of the camp and bury it. No elders need be present. No rogue deserves to be buried with the honor of StarClan ritual.”

Swiftpaw and Sandpaw began to drag Clawface toward the tunnel.

“Are the elders safe?” Bluestar asked.

“They’re in the nursery,” Fireheart told her. As he spoke a rustling sounded from the bramble den, and Halftail appeared, followed by the other kits and elders. Fireheart saw Cloudkit tumble out and scamper excitedly across the clearing to Brindleface. She greeted him with a brisk lick, and the kit turned to watch Clawface’s body as it disappeared away through the tunnel.

“Is he dead?” Cloudkit asked curiously. “Can I go and see?”

“Hush,” whispered Brindleface, tucking her tail around him.

“Where’s Tigerclaw?” Bluestar asked.

“He’s taken a party to attack a ShadowClan patrol,” Fireheart explained. “We found bones on our patrol. They smelled of ShadowClan so Tigerclaw decided to attack. I sent Brackenpaw to stop him when Yellowfang realized it was Brokenstar’s scent on them.”

“Brackenpaw?” meowed Bluestar, narrowing her eyes. “Even though he might have to cross the Thunderpath?”

“I was the only warrior left in camp. There was no one else I could send.”

Bluestar nodded, the concern in her eyes giving way to understanding. “You didn’t want to leave the camp unguarded?” she meowed. “You did well, Fireheart. I think Brokenstar hoped to lure all our warriors away from the camp. We found bones, too.”

“Graystripe told me.” Fireheart looked around for his friend, but Graystripe had disappeared.

“Send Yellowfang to me when she’s finished with Brokenstar,” Bluestar ordered. She pricked her ears at the noise of more paws in the gorse tunnel. Tigerclaw came racing into the camp, followed by Whitestorm and the rest of the raiding party. Fireheart craned his neck to peer around the warriors until he saw Brackenpaw, right at the back. The young apprentice looked exhausted but unhurt. Fireheart let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Did Brackenpaw reach you before you found a patrol?” asked Bluestar, walking over to her deputy.

“We hadn’t even entered their territory,” Tigerclaw answered. “We were just about to cross the Thunderpath.” His eyes narrowed. “Was that Clawface they were burying?”

Bluestar nodded.

“Then Brackenpaw was right,” meowed the deputy. “Brokenstar was planning to attack the camp. Is he dead too?”

“No. Yellowfang is tending to his wounds.”

“Surely not!” Mousefur exclaimed, exchanging a glance with Runningwind beside her.

Tigerclaw’s face darkened. “Tending to his wounds?” he snarled. “We should kill him, not waste time making him better!”

“We’ll discuss that once I’ve spoken to Yellowfang,” meowed Bluestar calmly.

“You can discuss it with me now, Bluestar.” Yellowfang padded into the clearing, her head drooping with exhaustion.

“Have you left Brokenstar alone?” growled Tigerclaw, his amber eyes flashing.

Yellowfang raised her head and looked at the dark warrior. “Dustpaw is guarding him. And I’ve given him poppy seeds, so he’ll sleep for a while. Brokenstar is blind now, Tigerclaw. There’s no way he’ll try to escape. He’d die of hunger in a week, if a fox or a gang of crows didn’t kill him first.”

“Well, that makes it easier,” Tigerclaw snarled. “We won’t have to kill him ourselves. We can let the forest deal with him.”

Yellowfang turned to Bluestar. “We cannot let him die,” she meowed.

“Why not?”

Fireheart held his breath as he watched the leader’s eyes flick from Yellowfang to Tigerclaw and back again. He wondered if Yellowfang was going to tell Bluestar that Brokenstar was her son.

“If we did, we would be no better than he is,” replied Yellowfang calmly.

Tigerclaw’s tail flicked in anger.

“What do you think, Whitestorm?” Bluestar meowed before Tigerclaw could speak.

“It will be a burden on our Clan to look after him,” Whitestorm answered thoughtfully. “But Yellowfang is right—if we send him out into the forest, or kill him in cold blood, StarClan will know we have stooped as low as he.”