Forest Of Secrets

Sandstorm looked around, impressed, but Fireheart knew as well as Tigerclaw that he had had no choice about getting onto the branch.

“Be more careful in the future, Fireheart,” Bluestar warned. “You’d better see Yellowfang in case you’ve caught a chill.”

“I’m fine,” Fireheart told her. “I just need to sleep, that’s all.”

Bluestar’s eyes narrowed. “That was an order, Fireheart.”

Stifling a yawn, Fireheart bowed his head respectfully. “Yes, Bluestar.”

“Come to the den when you’ve finished,” meowed Sandstorm, giving him a lick. “I’ll fetch you some fresh-kill.”

Fireheart mewed his thanks and stumbled unsteadily to Yellowfang’s den. The clearing was empty, but when he called Yellowfang’s name the old medicine cat poked her head out of the gap in the rock.

“Fireheart? Great StarClan, you look like a squirrel that’s fallen out of its tree! What happened to you?”

She padded toward him as he explained. Cinderpaw limped out behind her and sat beside Fireheart, her blue eyes wide as she heard how he had nearly drowned.

Seeing her, Fireheart could not help remembering how she had been injured beside the Thunderpath—another accident arranged by Tigerclaw? Not to mention the cold-blooded murder of Redtail. His head spinning with fatigue, Fireheart wondered how he could possibly stop Tigerclaw before another cat died for the deputy’s ruthless ambition.

“Right,” rasped Yellowfang, interrupting his troubled thoughts. “You’re a strong cat, and you probably haven’t taken a chill, but we’ll check you to make sure. Cinderpaw, what should we look for when a cat gets a soaking?”

Cinderpaw sat up straight with her tail wrapped around her paws. Eyes fixed on Yellowfang, she recited, “Poor breathing, sickness, leeches in his fur.”

“Good,” grunted Yellowfang. “Off you go, then.”

Very carefully, Cinderpaw sniffed along the length of Fireheart’s body, parting his fur with one paw to make sure that no leeches had fastened themselves onto his skin. “Breathing okay, Fireheart?” she asked gently. “Do you feel sick?”

“No, everything’s fine,” Fireheart mewed. “I just want to sleep for a moon.”

“I think he’s all right, Yellowfang,” Cinderpaw reported. She pressed her cheek against Fireheart’s and gave him a couple of quick licks. “Just don’t go jumping in any more rivers, eh?”

Yellowfang let out a throaty purr. “All right, Fireheart, you can go and sleep now.”

Cinderpaw flicked up her ears in surprise. “Aren’t you going to check him as well? What if I’ve missed something?”

“No need,” meowed Yellowfang. “I trust you, Cinderpaw.” The old cat stretched, arching her skinny back, and then relaxed. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you for a while,” she went on. “I see so many mouse-brained cats around here that it’s a real joy to find one with some sense. You’ve learned quickly, and you’re good with sick cats.”

“Thank you, Yellowfang!” Cinderpaw burst out, her eyes round with surprise at Yellowfang’s praise.

“Be quiet, I haven’t finished. I’m getting old now, and it’s time I started to think about finding an apprentice. Cinderpaw, how would you feel about becoming ThunderClan’s next medicine cat?”

Cinderpaw leaped to her paws. Her eyes were sparkling and she quivered with excitement. “Do you really mean it?” she whispered.

“Of course I mean it,” Yellowfang growled. “I don’t talk for the pleasure of hearing my own voice, unlike some cats.”

“In that case, yes,” Cinderpaw murmured, lifting her head with dignity. “I’d like that better than anything in the whole world!”

Fireheart felt his heart begin to beat faster with happiness. He had worried so much for Cinderpaw, at first when he thought she might die, then when it became clear that her injured leg would stop her from becoming a warrior. He remembered how she had wondered desperately what she could make of her life. And now it looked as if Yellowfang had found the perfect solution. Seeing the young she-cat so happy and excited about the future was more than Fireheart had ever hoped for.

Fireheart went back to the warriors’ den on lighter paws to share fresh-kill with Sandstorm and then to sleep. When he awoke, the light in the den was red from the rays of the setting sun.

Graystripe was nudging him. “Wake up,” his friend meowed. “Bluestar has just called a meeting.”

Fireheart left the den to find Bluestar already standing on the top of the Highrock. Yellowfang was beside her, and when all the cats were assembled it was the old medicine cat who spoke first.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” she rasped, “I have an announcement to make. As you know, I am not a young cat. It’s time I took an apprentice. So I’ve chosen the only cat I can put up with.” Yellowfang let out an amused purr. “And the only cat who can put up with me. Your next medicine cat will be Cinderpaw.”

A chorus of pleased meows broke out. Cinderpaw sat at the foot of the rock, her eyes shining and her fur sleekly groomed. She lowered her head shyly as the Clan congratulated her.