Forest Of Secrets

Fireheart felt his heart sink. “This is about Cloudkit, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” mewed Yellowfang. “He’s been careless about the bedding he’s brought in. If you ask me, he hasn’t bothered to shake the water off.”

“But I showed him how—” Fireheart broke off. He had troubles enough of his own, he thought; it wasn’t fair that he had to keep sorting out Cloudkit as well. He took a deep breath. “I’ll have a word with him,” he promised.

“Do that,” grunted Yellowfang.

Cinderpaw sat up, spitting out scraps of ragwort. “Is that chewed enough?”

Yellowfang inspected her work. “Excellent,” she meowed.

Cinderpaw’s blue eyes glowed with the praise, while Fireheart glanced appreciatively at the old medicine cat. It gave him a warm glow to see how Yellowfang made Cinderpaw feel useful and needed.

“Now you can fetch the juniper berries,” Yellowfang went on. “Let’s see…three should be enough. You know where I keep them?”

“Yes, Yellowfang.” Cinderpaw headed for the split in the rock, bouncing in spite of her limp, her tail lifted high. At the mouth of the den she looked back. “Thanks for the squirrel, Fireheart,” she meowed, before she disappeared.

Yellowfang looked after her approvingly and let out a rusty purr. “Now there’s a cat who knows what she’s doing,” she murmured.

Fireheart agreed. He wished he could say the same about his own kin. “I’ll go and find Cloudkit right now.” He sighed, touching his nose to Yellowfang’s flank before padding out of her den.

The white kit was not in the nursery, so Fireheart tried the elders’ den. As he entered, he heard Halftail’s voice. “So the leader of TigerClan stalked the fox for a night and a day, and on the second night—Hello, there, Fireheart. Come to listen to the story?”

Fireheart glanced around. Halftail was curled up in the moss with Patchpelt and Dappletail nearby. Cloudkit was crouched in the shelter of the big tabby’s body, his blue eyes wide with wonder as he pictured the mighty black-striped cats of TigerClan. A few scraps of fresh-kill lay on the floor of the den, and from the smell of mouse that clung to Cloudkit’s fur, Fireheart guessed that the elders had let him share.

“No, thanks, Halftail,” he meowed. “I can’t stay. I just wanted to talk to Cloudkit. Yellowfang says he’s been bringing in damp bedding.”

Dappletail let out a snort. “What nonsense!”

“She’s been listening to Smallear,” meowed Patchpelt. “He’d complain if StarClan descended from Silverpelt themselves to bring his bedding.”

Fireheart’s fur prickled with embarrassment. He hadn’t expected to find the elders making excuses for Cloudkit. “Well, have you or haven’t you?” he demanded, glaring at the kit.

Cloudkit blinked up at him. “I tried to get it right, Fireheart.”

“He’s only a kit,” Dappletail pointed out fondly.

“Yes, well…” Fireheart scraped his paws on the floor of the den. “Smallear has got aching joints.”

“Smallear has had aching joints for seasons,” meowed Halftail. “Since well before this kit was littered. You mind your own business, Fireheart, and let us mind ours.”

“Sorry,” Fireheart muttered. “I’ll go, then. Cloudkit, just make sure you’re extra careful about damp moss in the future, okay?”

He started backing out of the den. As he left, he heard Cloudkit meow, “Go on, Halftail. What did TigerClan’s leader do then?”

Fireheart was glad to escape into the clearing. He couldn’t help thinking that Cloudkit probably had been careless over the moss, but it looked like the rest of the elders wouldn’t have a word said against him. Free to take fresh-kill for himself now that he had hunted for the elders, Fireheart was trotting over to the heap when he noticed Brokentail lying outside his den. Tigerclaw was beside him, and the two cats were sharing tongues like old friends.

Unexpectedly moved by the sight, Fireheart paused. Was this Tigerclaw’s merciful side making a rare appearance? He could just hear the rumble of Tigerclaw’s voice, though he was too far away to make out the words. Brokentail replied briefly, looking much more relaxed, as if he was responding to the deputy’s friendliness.

Suddenly all of Fireheart’s old doubts about bringing Tigerclaw to justice welled up inside him. Every cat knew that Tigerclaw was a fierce and courageous fighter, and that he handled the responsibilities of a deputy with effortless confidence. Fireheart had never seen anything to show that he had the compassion of a true leader, until now, with Brokentail…

Fireheart’s mind whirled. Perhaps Bluestar had been right, that Tigerclaw was innocent of Redtail’s death. Perhaps Cinderpaw’s accident had been just that, instead of a trap. What if you’ve been wrong all along? Fireheart thought. Suppose Tigerclaw is just what he seems to be: a loyal and efficient deputy?

But he couldn’t make himself believe it. And as Fireheart padded more slowly over to the pile of fresh-kill, he wished to the tips of his claws that he could be freed from the burden of what he knew.

Chapter 16