Forest Of Secrets

All of the RiverClan cats were wet through, and the fur clinging to their bodies showed they were skinnier than ever. Fireheart had always thought of RiverClan cats as plump and sleek, wellfed on fish from the river. That was until Silverstream told him that Twolegs had stayed by the river during greenleaf and stolen or scared away most of their prey. The Twolegs had left the forest now, during leaf-bare, but RiverClan had been unable to hunt when the river froze. And instead of bringing much-needed food, the thaw had driven them out of their camp completely.

In spite of his pang of pity, Fireheart could also see the unfriendliness in their eyes, the hostility in their flattened ears and twitching tail tips. Fireheart knew he and Graystripe would have to work hard to convince Crookedstar that they had really saved the kits.

The Clan leader was at least prepared to give them a chance to explain. “Tell us what happened,” Crookedstar ordered.

Fireheart began at the point when he had heard the kits wailing and seen them stranded on the mat of debris in the river.

“Since when have ThunderClan cats risked their lives for us?” Blackclaw broke in contemptuously as Fireheart described how he had pushed the kits through the torrent to the riverbank.

Fireheart bit back an angry retort, and Crookedstar hissed at the warrior, “Quiet, Blackclaw! Let him speak. If he’s lying, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“He’s not lying.” Mistyfoot looked up from where she was still nuzzling her kits. “Why should ThunderClan steal kits when all the Clans are finding it hard to feed themselves?”

“Fireheart’s story makes sense,” Silverstream observed calmly. “We had to abandon the camp and shelter in these bushes when the water started to rise again,” she explained to Fireheart. “When we came to move Mistyfoot’s kits, we could find only two of them. The other two were missing. The whole nursery floor had been washed away. They must have been swept along the river to where you found them.”

Crookedstar nodded slowly, and Fireheart realized that the hostility of the RiverClan cats was fading—all except for Blackclaw, who turned his back on the ThunderClan warriors with a snort of disgust.

“In that case, we’re grateful to you,” meowed Crookedstar, though he sounded grudging, as if he could hardly bear to be in debt to a pair of ThunderClan cats.

“Yes,” mewed Mistyfoot. She looked up again, her eyes glowing softly with gratitude. “Without you, my kits would have died.”

Fireheart dipped his head in acknowledgment. Impulsively, he asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? If you can’t go back to your camp, and if prey’s scarce because of the flood—”

“We need no help from ThunderClan,” growled Crookedstar. “RiverClan cats can look after themselves.”

“Don’t be such a fool.” It was Graypool who spoke, with a glare at her leader. Fireheart felt a new surge of respect for her; he guessed that not many cats would dare to take that tone with Crookedstar. “You’re too proud for your own good,” the elder rasped. “How can we feed ourselves, even with the thaw? There are no fish to eat. The river’s practically poisoned; you know it is.”

“What?” Graystripe exclaimed; Fireheart was too shocked to say anything.

“It’s all the fault of the Twolegs,” Graypool explained to them. “Last newleaf, the river was clean and full of fish. Now it’s filthy with Twoleg rubbish from their camp.”

“And the fish are poisoned,” Mudfur added. “Cats who eat them fall ill. I’ve treated more cats for bellyache this leaf-bare than in all the time since I’ve been the medicine cat.”

Fireheart stared at Graystripe, and then back at the hungry RiverClan cats. Most of them couldn’t meet his eyes, as if they were ashamed that a cat of another Clan should know about their troubles. “Then let us help,” he urged them all. “We’ll catch prey for you in our territory and bring it to you, until the floods have gone and the river is clean.”

Even as he made the offer, he knew that he was breaking the warrior code that demanded loyalty to his own Clan alone. Bluestar would be furious with him if she found out he was prepared to share ThunderClan’s precious prey like this. But Fireheart couldn’t bring himself to abandon another Clan in their need. Bluestar herself said our welfare depends on having four Clans in the forest, he reminded himself. Surely it’s the will of StarClan.

“Would you really do this for us?” asked Crookedstar slowly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Yes,” Fireheart meowed.

“And I’ll help too,” promised Graystripe, with a glance at Silverstream.

“Then the Clan thanks you,” grunted Crookedstar. “None of my cats will challenge you in our territory until the floods go down and we can return to our camp. But after that, we will fend for ourselves again.” He turned and led the way back to the bushes. His subdued cats followed him, casting glances back at Fireheart and Graystripe as they went. Not all of them, Fireheart could see, trusted them or believed in their offer of help.