Forest Of Secrets

“Graystripe must have been slinking off for moons to see her,” Speckletail hissed. “What loyal cat would do that? They both betrayed their Clans. There’s bad blood in those kits.”

“Nonsense,” Bluestar spat back, her hackles suddenly raised. Fireheart winced—he had rarely seen his leader so angry. “Whatever we think about Graystripe and Silverstream, the kits are innocent. Will you take them, Goldenflower? They’ll die without a mother.”

Goldenflower hesitated, and then let out a long breath. “How can I say no? I have plenty of milk.”

Speckletail let out a snort of disapproval and pointedly turned her back as Fireheart and Cinderpaw gently laid the kits in Goldenflower’s nest. The pale ginger queen bent over to guide them toward her belly, and their miserable squeaking died away as they burrowed into the warmth of her body and found a place to suckle.

“Thank you, Goldenflower,” purred Bluestar.

Fireheart realized that she was looking down at the young kits with an expression of longing. He wondered if she was thinking about her own lost kits, and his doubts about what had really happened to them came flooding back. Could they possibly be Mistyfoot and Stonefur, alive and well in RiverClan? Did she have any idea?

His thoughts were interrupted when Cinderpaw turned abruptly and made her way out of the den. Fireheart followed her, to find her crouching outside with her head bowed onto her front paws. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Silverstream died.” Fireheart could hardly hear her muffled reply. “I let her die.”

“That’s not true!”

Cinderpaw looked up, blinking. Her eyes were blue pools of misery. “I’m supposed to be a medicine cat. I’m supposed to save lives.”

“You saved the two kits,” Fireheart reminded her, moving closer and pressing the side of his face against her cheek.

“But I didn’t save Silverstream.”

A wave of sympathy washed over Fireheart. He understood how Cinderpaw felt, and he wanted to tell her she was wrong to blame herself, but he didn’t have the words. Feeling useless and saddened, he began to lick her gently.

“What’s going on?” Fireheart looked up to see Yellowfang standing in front of them, a puzzled frown on her broad gray face. “What’s this I hear about Graystripe and a RiverClan queen?”

Cinderpaw didn’t even seem to notice that her mentor was there. It was left to Fireheart to explain.

“Cinderpaw was brilliant,” he told the elderly medicine cat. “Those kits would have died without her.”

Yellowfang nodded. “I’ve seen Tigerclaw,” she rasped. “Brackenfur was taking me to the Sunningrocks when we ran into him. He’s furious about the kits. But he’s not furious with you, Cinderpaw,” she added. “He knows you did your duty, just as any medicine cat would.”

Cinderpaw glanced up at that. “I’ll never be a medicine cat,” she spat bitterly. “I’m useless. I let Silverstream die.”

“What?” snarled Yellowfang angrily, arching her skinny gray body. “That’s the most mouse-brained thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yellowfang—” Fireheart began to protest at her harsh tone, but the medicine cat ignored him.

“You did your best, Cinderpaw,” she growled. “No cat can do more.”

“But it wasn’t good enough,” Cinderpaw pointed out dully. “If you’d been there, you would have saved her.”

“Oh? StarClan told you that, did they? Cinderpaw, sometimes cats die, and no cat can do anything about it.” She let out a rusty mew, half laughter, half scolding. “Not even me.”

“But I lost her, Yellowfang.”

“I know. And that’s a hard lesson.” Now there was rough sympathy in the old cat’s meow. “But I’ve lost cats before now—more cats than I care to count. Every medicine cat in the world has. You live with it. You go on.” She nudged Cinderpaw with her battle-scarred muzzle, and went on nudging until the younger cat rose unsteadily to her paws. “Come on. There’s work to be done. Smallear’s complaining about his aching joints again.”

She herded Cinderpaw in the direction of her den and paused to glance over her shoulder at Fireheart. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “She’ll be fine.”

Fireheart watched the two cats cross the clearing and vanish into Yellowfang’s den.

“You can trust Yellowfang.” At the sound of the quiet meow, Fireheart turned to see Bluestar. “She’ll see Cinderpaw through this.”

The Clan leader was sitting just outside the nursery, her tail wrapped neatly over her paws. In spite of all the turmoil of Silverstream’s death and the discovery of Graystripe’s illicit relationship, she looked as calm as ever.

“Bluestar,” Fireheart meowed hesitantly, “what will happen to Graystripe now? Will he be punished?”

Bluestar looked thoughtful. “I can’t answer that yet, Fireheart,” she admitted. “I need to discuss it with Tigerclaw and the other warriors.”

“Graystripe couldn’t help himself,” Fireheart blurted out loyally.