Forest Of Secrets

“Yes, I’m coming.” Cinderpaw gave Fireheart one final lick and followed the old cat out onto the springy moorland grass. The breeze ruffled her fur as she limped swiftly away without a backward glance.

Fireheart watched her go, his heart heavy. He knew his friend was at the beginning of a new and happier life, but all the same he could not stifle a pang of bittersweet regret for the life that could have been hers.

Fireheart watched the sun climbing the trees. “Tigerclaw wants me to send Cloudpaw on a solo hunting mission today,” he meowed to Graystripe.

The big gray warrior looked up in surprise. “That’s early, isn’t it? He’s barely been made apprentice.”

Fireheart shrugged. “Tigerclaw thinks he’s ready. He told me to follow him and see how he does, anyway. Would you like to come and help?”

It was the morning after Cinderpaw had returned from Mothermouth. Fireheart had met her as she slipped down the ravine in the twilight. Though she greeted him affectionately, they both knew she could not tell him what she had gone through. Her face still wore a look of rapture, and the moon itself seemed to shine from her eyes. Fireheart tried hard not to feel that he had lost her to an unknown path.

Now he sat beside the nettle patch, enjoying a juicy mouse. Graystripe, crouching nearby, had taken a magpie from the pile of fresh-kill but had barely touched it.

“No, thanks, Fireheart,” he mewed. “I promised Goldenflower I’d look in on the kits. Their eyes are open now,” he added with a touch of pride.

Fireheart guessed that Goldenflower would rather that Graystripe stayed away, but he knew Graystripe would never be persuaded to leave his kits. “Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll see you later.” Swallowing the last morsel of mouse, he went to find Cloudpaw.

Tigerclaw had been busy that morning, sending out one patrol with Whitestorm to renew the scent markings along the RiverClan boundary, and another with Sandstorm to hunt around Snakerocks, so he had neglected to tell Fireheart where Cloudpaw should go for his hunting mission. Fireheart hadn’t felt the need to remind him.

“You can make for Twolegplace,” he meowed to Cloudpaw. “Then you won’t get in the way of the other patrols. You won’t see me, but I’ll be watching you. I’ll meet you by Princess’s fence.”

“Can I talk to her if she’s there?” Cloudpaw asked.

“Okay, as long as you’ve caught plenty of fresh-kill by then. But you’re not to go looking for her in the Twoleg gardens. Or their nests.”

“I won’t.” Cloudpaw’s eyes gleamed, and his snowy fur was fluffed up with excitement. Fireheart couldn’t help remembering how nervous he had felt before his own first assessment; Cloudpaw, in contrast, was bursting with confidence.

“Off you go, then,” Fireheart meowed. “Try to get there by sunhigh.” He watched the young apprentice race off toward the tunnel. “Pace yourself!” he called after him. “You’ve a long way to go!”

But Cloudpaw didn’t slow down as he disappeared into the gorse. Shrugging, more amused than annoyed, Fireheart glanced around at Graystripe, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. His half-eaten magpie was left beside the nettle patch. He must be in the nursery already, Fireheart thought, and turned to follow Cloudpaw out of the camp.

The apprentice’s scent was strong, showing where the young cat had ranged back and forth through the woods in search of prey. A flurry of loose feathers told of a caught thrush, and specks of blood on the grass showed that a mouse had fallen to his claws. Not far from the edge of the Tallpines, Fireheart found the spot where Cloudpaw had buried his fresh-kill so he could return for it later.

Impressed that his apprentice was hunting well so early in his training, Fireheart put on speed, hoping to catch up and watch him stalking his prey. But before he reached Twolegplace he caught sight of Cloudpaw racing back along his own scent trail, his fur bristling and a wild light in his eyes.

“Cloudpaw!” Fireheart ran forward to meet him, his body tingling with sudden fear.

Cloudpaw skidded to a halt, his claws scattering pine needles, barely managing to avoid a collision with Fireheart. “Something’s wrong!” he panted.

“What?” Icy claws clutched at Fireheart’s belly. “Not Princess?”

“No, nothing like that. But I saw Tigerclaw, and there were some strange cats with him.”

“At Twolegplace?” Fireheart meowed sharply. “Where we smelled them the day we visited Princess?”

“That’s right.” Cloudpaw’s whiskers twitched. “They were huddled together, just on the edge of the trees. I tried to get closer to hear what they were saying, but I was afraid they would see my white fur. So I came to find you.”

“You did the right thing,” Fireheart told him, his mind racing frantically. “What were these cats like? Did they have a Clan scent?”

“No.” Cloudpaw wrinkled his nose. “They smelled of crowfood.”

“And you didn’t recognize them?”

Cloudpaw shook his head. “They were thin and hungry-looking. Their fur was all mangy. They were horrible, Fireheart!”