Forest Of Secrets

A growl rumbled once again in Tigerclaw’s throat, but it was Bluestar who answered. “Fireheart, be quiet. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Yes, it does,” Fireheart dared to meow. “Graystripe’s my friend.”

“Silence!” hissed Tigerclaw. “Does your leader have to tell you twice? Graystripe is a traitor to his Clan. He has no right to the kits, or anything else.”

Rage flooded through Fireheart. Had Tigerclaw no respect for Graystripe’s terrible grief? He whirled on the deputy, held back from springing at him only because cats of another Clan were looking on. Tigerclaw bared his teeth in a snarl.

Bluestar flicked her tail angrily at both of them. “Enough!” she ordered. “Leopardfur, I admit RiverClan has some right to the kits. But so does ThunderClan. Besides, the kits are small and weak. They can’t travel yet, especially across the river. It’s too dangerous.”

Leopardfur’s hackles began to rise and her eyes narrowed to slits. “You are just making excuses.”

“No,” Bluestar insisted. “Not excuses. Would you risk the kits’ lives? I’ll think about what you have said and discuss it with my warriors, and give you our answer at the next Gathering.”

“Now get out of our camp,” growled Tigerclaw.

Leopardfur hesitated, as if she would have liked to say more, but it was clear that Bluestar had dismissed her. After a few tense moments, she dipped her head again and turned to go, with Mistyfoot and Stonefur behind her. Tigerclaw stalked across the clearing with them as far as the tunnel.

Left alone with Bluestar, Fireheart felt his anger begin to fade, but he couldn’t help renewing his pleas. “We can’t let them take the kits! You know how Graystripe would feel.”

The bleak look Bluestar gave him made him wonder if he had gone too far, but her voice was soft as she replied, “Yes, Fireheart, I know. And I would give much to keep these kits. But how far will RiverClan go to take them? Will they fight? How many ThunderClan warriors would risk their lives for kits that are half-RiverClan?”

Fireheart’s fur prickled with fear of the picture she painted. Clans at war over mewling kits—or ThunderClan split against itself as warriors fought among themselves. Was that the fate that StarClan had decreed for his Clan when Spottedleaf warned that water could quench fire? Perhaps it wasn’t the floodwater that could destroy ThunderClan, but the cats that came from the territory by the river.

“Have courage, Fireheart,” urged Bluestar. “It hasn’t come to a battle just yet. I’ve won us time until the Gathering, and who knows what will happen before then?”

Fireheart couldn’t share her confidence. The problem of the kits would not go away. But he could do nothing except bow his head respectfully and withdraw to the warriors’ den.

And now, he thought despairingly, what am I going to tell Graystripe?

By the time Silverpelt stretched across the sky, the whole of ThunderClan seemed to know why the RiverClan cats had come. Fireheart guessed that Tigerclaw had told his favourite warriors, and they had spread the news to the rest of the Clan.

As Bluestar had predicted, opinions were divided. Many cats thought that the sooner the Clan was rid of these half-breed kits, the better. But there were still several who were prepared to fight, if only because to give up the kits would mean that RiverClan had won.

Through it all, Graystripe remained silent, brooding in the warriors’ den. He left it only once to visit the nursery. When Fireheart brought him fresh-kill, he turned his head away. He hadn’t eaten since Silverstream died, as far as Fireheart could tell, and he was looking gaunt and ill.

“Is there anything you can do for him?” Fireheart asked Yellowfang, going to her den as soon as he woke the following day. “He won’t eat, he can’t sleep…”

The old medicine cat shook her head. “There’s no herb to heal a broken heart,” she murmured. “Only time will do that.”

“I feel so helpless,” Fireheart confessed.

“Your friendship helps,” Yellowfang rasped. “He might not realize it now, but one day he—”

She broke off as Cinderpaw appeared and dropped a bunch of herbs at Yellowfang’s feet. “Are these the right ones?” she asked.

Yellowfang gave the herbs a quick sniff. “Yes, that’s right,” she mewed. “You can’t eat before the ceremony,” she added, “but I will. I’m too old and creaky to get to Highstones and back without something to keep me going.” She crouched in front of the herbs and began to gulp them down.

“Highstones?” Fireheart echoed. “Ceremony? Cinderpaw, what’s going on?”

“It’s the half moon tonight,” Cinderpaw mewed happily. “Yellowfang and I are going to Mothermouth so I can be made a proper apprentice.” She gave a joyful wriggle. Fireheart felt a wave of relief that she seemed to be over her despair after Silverstream’s death, and was looking forward again to her new life as a medicine cat. Her eyes had recovered all their old sparkle, but there was a new wisdom and thoughtfulness in their blue depths now.