Forest Of Secrets

Fireheart’s courage almost deserted him for good at the thought of crossing the swollen river. He had almost drowned rescuing the kits, and he felt exhausted. His limbs were cold and stiff, and his fur was soaked. He wanted nothing more than to creep into his own den and sleep for a moon.

Graystripe, still crouched over the gray kit, looked as if he felt the same. His thick gray fur was flattened against his body, and his amber eyes were wide with anxiety. “Do you think we can get across?” he meowed.

“We’ve got to, or the kits will die.” Forcing himself to his paws, Fireheart picked up the black kit again by its scruff and headed downstream. “Let’s see if we can cross by the stepping-stones, like you said.” Graystripe padded after him, carrying the gray kit through the wet grass at the edge of the floodwater.

When the river was at its usual level, the stepping-stones were an easy route across for RiverClan cats. The longest leap from rock to rock was no more than a tail-length, and RiverClan controlled the territory here on both sides of the river.

Now floodwater completely covered the stones. But where they had once broken the surface, a dead tree, its bark stripped away, lay across the river. Fireheart guessed that some of its branches had been caught on the submerged stepping-stones. “Thank StarClan!” he exclaimed. “We can use the tree to cross.” He adjusted his grip on the kit and waded out into the flood toward the splintered end of the tree trunk. The kit, seeing the churning water barely a mouse-length below its nose, began to mewl and struggle feebly.

“Keep still, both of you,” growled Graystripe gently, as he set down the gray kit for a moment to adjust his grip. “We’re going to find your mother.”

Fireheart wasn’t sure if his terrified kit was even old enough to understand, but at least it went limp again so it was easier to carry. He had to lift his head high to keep the tiny creature clear of the water as he floundered toward the tree. He reached it without needing to swim and sprang upward, clawing for a grip on the soft, rotting wood. Once he had pulled himself up, his main concern was keeping a pawhold on the smooth, slippery trunk. Gingerly placing each of his paws in a straight line, Fireheart padded toward the opposite bank with the river churning beneath him, sucking at the tree as if it wanted to sweep it, and its burden of cats, away downstream. Fireheart glanced back to see Graystripe following with the gray kit, his face creased with determination.

At the far end the trunk divided into a tangle of broken branches. Fireheart ducked down to squeeze through them, being careful not to let the kit’s fur catch on the splinters. It was harder to find a pawhold as the branches tapered, and he ran out of anything that might bear his weight when there was still a gap of a couple of fox-lengths separating him from the far side of the river. Fireheart took a deep breath, flexed his hindlegs, and leaped. His front paws hit the bank while his hind paws kicked madly in the rushing current. As water splashed up, the kit started to struggle again. Fireheart kept his teeth clenched in its neck fur as he sank his front claws into the soft earth and scrabbled upward until he stood safely on the bank. He lurched forward a few paces and set the kit down gently.

Glancing around, he saw Graystripe pulling himself out of the water a little way downstream. He lowered the gray kit to the ground and shook himself. “The river water tastes foul,” he spat.

“Look on the bright side,” Fireheart suggested. “At least it should disguise your scent. The RiverClan cats won’t know that you’re the warrior who’s been trespassing on their territory. If they ever found out—”

He broke off as three cats crashed out of the bushes just beyond Graystripe. Fireheart braced himself as he recognized Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy, and the warriors Blackclaw and Stonefur. Forcing his tired legs to move, he picked up the black kit and padded along the bank to stand beside Graystripe. The gray warrior hauled himself to his paws, and the two cats set down their burdens and faced their enemies together.

Fireheart wondered if the RiverClan cats had overheard what he was saying to Graystripe. He knew that he and Graystripe were too exhausted to stand up to a patrol of strong, fresh warriors, and his head spun as he tried to summon enough energy for a fight into his frozen paws. But to his relief, the RiverClan cats halted a few tail-lengths away.

“What’s this?” growled Leopardfur. Her golden-spotted fur bristled, and her ears were flattened against her head.

Beside her, Blackclaw stood with his lips drawn back in a snarl. “Why are you trespassing on our territory?” he demanded.

“We’re not trespassing,” Fireheart meowed quietly. “We pulled two of your kits out of the river and wanted to bring them home.”

“Do you think we nearly drowned ourselves just for fun?” Graystripe blurted out.