Forest Of Secrets

Fireheart gazed at the dark gray she-cat with admiration. He knew that Cinderpaw really was happy to be Yellowfang’s apprentice. She would be a fine medicine cat. But she would have been a fine warrior too. It took a special spirit, he thought, not to begrudge her brother’s triumph. As always, the sight of Cinderpaw’s injury reminded Fireheart of Tigerclaw. Fireheart was so sure the deputy had caused her accident, and had also tried to drown him just recently. Yet today Tigerclaw had fought with the strength of StarClan. Without him, they could have lost the battle. If you prove his treachery, Fireheart asked himself, who will defend ThunderClan then?

After the raid, Fireheart was relieved to see Graystripe keeping his promise to stay around the camp, patrolling or hunting or helping Yellowfang and Cinderpaw to replenish their supplies. Tigerclaw said nothing, but Fireheart hoped he had noticed.

However, on the third morning Fireheart was woken by movement in the nest beside him, and opened his eyes in time to see Graystripe sliding out of the den. “Graystripe?” he muttered, but his friend vanished without replying.

Careful not to disturb Sandstorm, who was sleeping on his other side, Fireheart got up and slipped out between the branches. He emerged blinking into the clearing and saw Graystripe disappearing into the gorse tunnel. He also saw Darkstripe, crouched beside the pile of fresh-kill, looking up with a vole dangling from his jaws. His eyes were fixed on the tunnel entrance.

Fireheart felt a heavy weight like a cold stone in his belly. If Darkstripe had seen Graystripe leave, that meant Tigerclaw would know about it before very long. And then the deputy would want to know exactly where Graystripe had been. He might even follow him, and catch him with Silverstream.

Almost unconsciously, Fireheart started forward. He forced himself to walk briskly, but without any special urgency. As he passed the heap of fresh-kill, he called out, “Morning, Darkstripe! We’re just off to hunt. It’s the early cat that catches the prey, you know!” Without waiting for Darkstripe’s response, he entered the tunnel. Once he had left the clearing, he put on speed, racing to the top of the ravine. Graystripe was out of sight already but his scent was strong, leading unwaveringly to the Sunningrocks.

But they agreed only to meet at Fourtrees, he thought.

Fireheart pelted along, ignoring the tempting sounds and smells of prey in the undergrowth. He had hoped to catch Graystripe and divert him before his friend reached Silverstream, just in case Tigerclaw was already out in the forest, but by the time he came within sight of the Sunningrocks he had seen no sign of him. Fireheart paused on the edge of the trees and drank in the scented air. Graystripe was close by, he was sure, and he could scent Silverstream as well, but the scents of both cats were overlaid with something that set Fireheart’s fur bristling—the smell of blood!

At that moment, he heard a thin, eerie wailing from the rocks ahead, the unmistakable sound of a cat in deep distress. “Graystripe!” he yowled. He shot forward and hurled himself up the sloping surface of the nearest rock. What he saw from the top brought him to a skidding stop.

Below, in a deep gully between this rock and the next, Silverstream lay on her side. As Fireheart stared, appalled, a strong spasm traveled down the length of her body, and her legs twitched. She let out another chilling wail.

“Graystripe!” Fireheart gasped.

Graystripe was crouched beside Silverstream, frantically licking her heaving flank. He looked up at the sound of Fireheart’s voice. “Fireheart! It’s the kits—the kits are coming, and it’s all going wrong. Fetch Yellowfang!”

“But—” Fireheart bit off his protest. His paws were already moving, carrying him down from the rock and back across the stretch of open ground toward the trees.

Fireheart ran as he had never run before, but even so, a small, cold part of his mind was telling him this was the end. Every cat in the Clans would find out about Graystripe and Silverstream now. What would Bluestar and Crookedstar do to them when it was all over?

Almost before he knew it he was back at the camp. He hurled himself down the ravine, almost bowling Cinderpaw over at the entrance to the tunnel. She reared back with a meow of protest, scattering the herbs she had gathered. “Fireheart, what—”

“Where’s Yellowfang?” Fireheart panted.

“Yellowfang?” Cinderpaw suddenly grew more serious as she sensed Fireheart’s desperation. “She went over to Snakerocks. It’s the best place to find yarrow.”

Fireheart gathered himself to go on running, then paused, frustrated. It would take too much time to fetch Yellowfang from Snakerocks. Silverstream needed help now!

“What’s the matter?” mewed Cinderpaw.

“There’s a cat—Silverstream—by the Sunningrocks. She’s having her kits, but something’s gone wrong.”