Forest Of Secrets

Fireheart had done his best to talk his friend out of visiting Silverstream—their relationship went against the warrior code and put both of them in grave danger. But Fireheart also knew that he would never betray Graystripe.

Besides, Tigerclaw had no right to accuse any cat of disloyalty. He had stood on the edge of the battle, watching while Fireheart fought for his life against another RiverClan warrior, and turned away instead of helping him. And that was not the worst accusation Fireheart could make against the deputy. He suspected Tigerclaw of murdering the former ThunderClan deputy, Redtail, and even planning to get rid of their leader herself.

“If you think I’m disloyal, tell Bluestar,” he meowed challengingly.

Tigerclaw drew back his lips in a snarl and dropped into a half crouch, sliding out his long claws. “I don’t need to bother Bluestar,” he hissed. “I can deal with a kittypet like you.”

He stared at Fireheart for a moment longer. Fireheart realized with a jolt that there was a trace of fear as well as distrust in the blazing amber eyes. Tigerclaw wonders how much I know, he thought suddenly.

Fireheart’s friend Ravenpaw, Tigerclaw’s own apprentice, had witnessed the murder of Redtail. Tigerclaw had tried to kill him to keep him quiet, so Fireheart had taken him to live with Barley, a loner who lived near a Twoleg farm on the other side of WindClan’s territory. Fireheart had tried to tell Ravenpaw’s story to Bluestar, but the Clan leader refused to believe that her brave deputy could be guilty of such a thing. As he glared at Tigerclaw, Fireheart’s frustration returned; he felt as if a tree had fallen and pinned him to the ground.

Without another word, Tigerclaw swung around and stalked away. As Fireheart watched him go, there was a rustling from inside the warriors’ den, and Graystripe poked his head out through the branches.

“What on earth are you doing?” he meowed. “Picking fights with Tigerclaw like that! He’ll turn you into crowfood!”

“No cat has the right to call me disloyal,” Fireheart argued.

Graystripe bent his head and gave his chest fur a couple of quick licks. “I’m sorry, Fireheart,” he muttered. “I know this is all because of me and Silverstream—”

“No, it isn’t,” Fireheart interrupted, “and you know it. Tigerclaw’s the problem, not you.” He shook himself, scattering snow from his coat. “Come on; let’s eat.”

Graystripe pushed the rest of the way out and bounded toward the pile of fresh-kill. Fireheart followed him, picked out a vole, and carried it back to the warriors’ den to eat. Graystripe crouched beside him, near the outer curtain of branches.

Whitestorm and a couple of other senior warriors were curled up asleep in the center of the bush, but otherwise the den was empty. Their sleeping bodies warmed the air, and barely any snow had penetrated the thick canopy of branches.

Fireheart took a mouthful of vole. The meat was tough and stringy, but he was so hungry that it tasted delicious. It was gone far too quickly, but it was better than nothing, and it would give him the strength he needed to travel to the Gathering.

When Graystripe had finished his meal in a few ravenous gulps, the two cats lay close together, grooming each other’s cold fur. It was a relief to Fireheart to share tongues like this with Graystripe again, after the troubling time when it seemed that Graystripe’s love for Silverstream would destroy his friendship with Fireheart. Even though Fireheart still worried about his friend’s forbidden affair, since the battle he and Graystripe had rekindled their friendship so it was as close as before. They needed to trust each other if they were to survive the long season of leaf-bare, and even more than that, Fireheart knew he needed Graystripe’s support against Tigerclaw’s growing hostility.

“I wonder what news we’ll hear tonight,” he murmured in his friend’s gray ear. “I hope RiverClan and ShadowClan have learned their lesson. WindClan won’t be driven out of their territory again.”

Graystripe shifted uncomfortably. “The battle wasn’t just greed for territory,” he pointed out. “Prey is even scarcer than usual—RiverClan are starving since the Twolegs moved into their territory.”

“I know.” Fireheart flicked his ears in reluctant sympathy, understanding that his friend would want to defend Silverstream’s Clan. “But forcing another Clan out of their territory isn’t the answer.”

Graystripe muttered agreement, and then fell silent. Fireheart knew how he must’ve felt. It was only a few moons since they had crossed the Thunderpath to find WindClan and to bring them home. Yet Graystripe was bound to sympathize with RiverClan too, because of his love for Silverstream. There were no easy answers. The shortage of prey would be a desperate problem for all four Clans, at least until leaf-bare relaxed its cruel grip on the forest.