Forest Of Secrets

The RiverClan cats were gathering together again with murmurs of concern as Fireheart limped across to them. “Thank you,” he meowed. “I’ve never been so glad to see any cat in my life.”

“I recognized some of the old ShadowClan warriors,” Leopardfur told him gravely. “The ones who left with Brokenstar.”

“Yes.” Fireheart didn’t want to say anything yet about Tigerclaw’s involvement. “How did you know we needed help?” he asked, puzzled.

“We didn’t,” replied Mistyfoot. “We came to talk to Bluestar about—”

“Not now,” Leopardfur interrupted, though Fireheart guessed that Mistyfoot was going to say, “about the kits.” “ThunderClan needs time to recover.” She dipped her head graciously toward Fireheart. “We are glad to have helped. Tell your leader we will return soon.”

“Yes, I will,” Fireheart promised. “And thanks again.” He watched the RiverClan cats leave, then looked around, feeling his shoulders sag with tiredness. The clearing was littered with blood and fur. Yellowfang and Cinderpaw were beginning to examine the injured cats. Though Fireheart hadn’t noticed them in the fighting, they both bore the marks of enemy claws.

He took a deep breath. It was time to deal with Tigerclaw, but he did not know if he could summon the strength. His wounds throbbed with pain, and every muscle in his body shrieked a protest with each step. As he limped toward Bluestar’s den, a voice sounded behind him. “Fireheart! What happened?”

He turned to see Sandstorm, newly returned at the head of her hunting patrol, with Cloudpaw panting just behind her. She was staring around the clearing as if she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Fireheart shook his head wearily. “Brokentail’s outlaws,” he grunted.

“Again?” Sandstorm spat with disgust. “Maybe Bluestar will think twice about sheltering Brokentail now.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Fireheart felt unable to explain right then. “Sandstorm, will you do something for me, and not ask questions?”

Sandstorm gave him a suspicious look. “Depends what it is.”

“Go to Bluestar’s den and deal with what you find there. Better take another warrior too—Brackenfur, will you go? Bluestar will tell you what to do.”

At least, I hope so, Fireheart added to himself as Sandstorm, still frowning, jerked her head at Brackenfur and headed for the Highrock. Out of everything that had happened, what disturbed Fireheart most was how Bluestar seemed to have lost her will to lead her Clan.

Fireheart stood numbly in the center of the clearing, watching as Yellowfang examined Brokentail and then began half pushing, half dragging him toward her den. The former ShadowClan leader was barely conscious, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. She obviously still cares for him, Fireheart thought in confusion. Even after all this, she can’t forget he was once her kit.

Turning away from Yellowfang, Fireheart saw Sandstorm emerging from the den beneath the Highrock. She was followed by Tigerclaw, who struggled forward with an odd, lurching gait. His fur was matted with dust and blood, and one eye was half closed. He stumbled to a halt and collapsed in front of the rock.

Brackenfur trailed him closely, alert for any sign that the deputy intended to attack or flee. Behind him came Bluestar. Her head was drooping and her tail dragged in the dust. Fireheart’s worst fears flooded back. The strong leader Fireheart had respected seemed to have vanished, leaving instead this frail, wounded cat.

Last of all, Graystripe limped out of the den and sank down on his side in the shade of the Highrock. Cinderpaw hurried over to him and began to inspect his wounds with an anxious frown.

Bluestar raised her head and looked around. “Come here, all of you,” she rasped, beckoning with a flick of her tail. While the rest of the Clan were gathering, Fireheart padded over to Cinderpaw. “Can you give Tigerclaw anything for his wounds?” he asked. “Something to ease the pain?” He thought he had wanted to defeat Tigerclaw more than anything, but now he found he could not bear the sight of the once-great warrior bleeding to death in the dust.

Cinderpaw looked up from her examination of Graystripe. To Fireheart’s relief, she didn’t challenge his request for her to treat the treacherous deputy. “Sure,” she meowed. “I’ll fetch something for Graystripe as well.” She limped away in the direction of Yellowfang’s den.

The Clan cats had taken their places by the time she returned. Fireheart could see them looking at one another, uneasily wondering what all this might mean.

Cinderpaw limped over with a wad of herbs in her mouth. She dropped some of them beside Tigerclaw, and gave the rest to Graystripe. The deputy sniffed the leaves suspiciously and then began to chew them.

Bluestar watched him for a moment and then began to speak. “I present you with Tigerclaw, now a prisoner. He—”

A chorus of worried murmurs interrupted her. The Clan cats were looking at each other in shock and dismay. Fireheart could see they did not understand what was happening.