Forest Of Secrets

His heart thudding, Fireheart looked from Graystripe to Silverstream. She quivered with happiness, her green eyes glowing with pride. “Your kits?” he echoed in alarm. “Are you both out of your minds? This is disastrous!”

Graystripe blinked and would not meet his friend’s eyes. “Not…not necessarily. I mean, these kits will join us together forever.”

“But you come from different Clans!” Fireheart protested. From the uneasiness in Graystripe’s expression, he guessed that his friend knew very well what difficulties the kits would cause. “You can’t ever claim these kits as your own, Graystripe. And Silverstream,” he added, turning toward the RiverClan cat, “you won’t be able to tell anyone in your Clan who the father is.”

“I don’t care,” Silverstream insisted, giving her chest fur a quick lick. “I’ll know. That’s all that matters.”

Graystripe looked as if he wasn’t too sure of that. “It’s stupid that they can’t know,” he muttered. “We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.” He pressed himself against Silverstream’s flank and shot Fireheart a helpless glance.

“I know that’s what you feel,” Fireheart agreed heavily. “But it’s no good, Graystripe; you know it isn’t. These will be RiverClan kits.” His heart sank at the thought of the trouble this could cause in the future. When these kits grew to be warriors, Graystripe might have to fight against them! He would be torn between loyalty to his blood kin, and loyalty to his Clan and the warrior code. Fireheart could not see any way for him to keep faith with both.

Had it been the same with Mistyfoot and Stonefur? he wondered. Had their ThunderClan parents ever had to fight against them? He remembered Oakheart, trying to defend them from ThunderClan attack; how had the RiverClan warrior explained that to them? It was an impossible situation, and now it would all begin again with a new set of kits.

But Fireheart knew it was pointless to say this now. Glancing up and down the line of bushes in case any cat was approaching, he meowed, “It’s time we were going. It must be sunhigh. They’ll miss us back at camp.”

Graystripe touched his nose gently to Silverstream’s. “Fireheart’s right,” he murmured. “We must go. And don’t worry,” he added. “They’ll be the most beautiful kits in the forest.”

Silverstream’s eyes narrowed with affection, and her voice came in a deep purr. “I know. We’ll find a way to get through this.” She stood watching as Fireheart and Graystripe left the bushes and padded down the slope toward the flooded river. Graystripe kept looking back, as if he could hardly bear to leave her.

Fireheart felt as if he were carrying a cold, heavy stone in his chest. How long can this go on, he wondered, before some cat finds out?

He was still feeling weighed down with anxiety as they crossed the tree trunk and went back into ThunderClan territory, though he tried hard to push the problem out of his mind. Right now it was more important to decide what to say if any cat had noticed their absence.

“I think we should hunt for a bit,” he told Graystripe. “Then at least—”

An excited meow from the edge of the forest interrupted him. “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

Fireheart stared in disbelief as a small white body crashed out of the bracken at the edge of the trees. Cloudkit!

“Oh, mousedung!” muttered Graystripe.

Fireheart padded across the grass, his heart sinking. “Cloudkit, what are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told you to stay in the nursery.”

“I tracked you,” Cloudkit announced proudly. “All the way from camp.”

As he looked at the kit’s shining blue eyes, Fireheart felt sick with apprehension. Their chances of slipping back into camp with a story of early hunting had just vanished. Cloudkit must have seen them crossing the river.

“I followed your scent trail right up to the stepping-stones,” Cloudkit went on. “Fireheart, what were you and Graystripe doing in RiverClan territory?”

Before Fireheart could think of a reply, another voice broke in—a low, menacing growl. “Yes, that’s what I would like to know, too.”

Fireheart felt the strength drain out of his paws as he looked up to see Tigerclaw shouldering his way through the crisp brown bracken.

“Fireheart’s really brave!” mewed Cloudkit, while Fireheart stood with his mouth half-open, panic turning his brain to feathers. “He went out on a special warrior mission—he told me so.”

“Did he now?” hissed Tigerclaw, an interested gleam in his eyes. “And did he tell you what this special warrior mission was?”

“No, but I can guess.” Cloudkit trembled with excitement. “He’s been with Graystripe to spy on RiverClan. Fireheart, did you—”

“Quiet, kit,” snapped Tigerclaw. “Well?” he challenged Fireheart. “Is that true?”

Fireheart glanced at Graystripe. His friend was frozen, his yellow eyes staring in horror at the deputy; obviously there would be no helpful suggestions from him.

“We wanted to see how far the floods went,” Fireheart meowed. That was not exactly a lie.