Forest Of Secrets

“A prisoner?” Darkstripe echoed. “Tigerclaw’s your deputy. What has he done?”

“I’ll tell you.” Bluestar’s voice sounded more even now, but Fireheart could see the effort it was costing her. “Just now, in my den, Tigerclaw attacked me. He would have killed me if Fireheart hadn’t arrived in time.”

The sounds of protest and disbelief swelled even louder. From the back of the crowd, an elder let out an eerie wailing. Darkstripe got to his paws. He was one of Tigerclaw’s strongest supporters, Fireheart knew, but even he was looking uncertain. “There must be some mistake,” he blustered.

Bluestar raised her chin. “Do you think I can’t tell when a cat tries to murder me?” she enquired dryly.

“But Tigerclaw—”

Fireheart sprang up. “Tigerclaw is a traitor to the Clan!” he spat. “He brought the rogue cats here today.”

Darkstripe rounded on him. “He’d never have done that. Prove it, kittypet!”

Fireheart glanced at Bluestar. She nodded and beckoned him forward. “Fireheart, tell the Clan what you know. Everything.”

Fireheart padded slowly to her side. Now that the moment for revealing everything had come, he felt strangely reluctant. It was as though he were pulling down the Highrock, and nothing would ever be the same again. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began. His voice squeaked like a kit’s, and he paused to control it. “Cats of ThunderClan, do you remember when Redtail died? Tigerclaw told you that Oakheart killed him, but he was lying. It was Tigerclaw who killed Redtail!”

“How do you know?” That was Longtail, with the usual sneer on his face. “You weren’t at the battle.”

“I know because I talked to someone who was,” Fireheart replied steadily. “Ravenpaw told me.”

“Oh, very useful!” growled Darkstripe. “Ravenpaw’s dead. You can tell us he said anything, and nobody can prove you wrong.”

Fireheart hesitated. He had kept the truth about Ravenpaw’s escape a secret to protect him from Tigerclaw, but now that Tigerclaw was a prisoner, there could be no more danger. And he needed to reveal everything. “Ravenpaw isn’t dead,” he explained quietly. “I took him away after Tigerclaw tried to kill him for knowing too much.”

More uproar, as each cat yowled their questions and protests. While Fireheart waited for them to settle down again, he glanced at Tigerclaw. As Cinderpaw’s herbs did their healing work, the huge tabby had begun to recover some of his strength. He pushed himself onto his haunches and sat staring out over the crowd with eyes like stones, as if he were challenging any cat to come too close. The news about Ravenpaw must have shocked him, but he did not show it by a single twitch of his whiskers.

When the turmoil showed no sign of dying down, Whitestorm raised his voice. “Quiet! Let Fireheart speak.”

Fireheart dipped his head in thanks to the older warrior. “Ravenpaw told me that Oakheart died when rocks fell on him. Redtail fled from the rockfall, and ran straight into Tigerclaw. Tigerclaw pounced on him and killed him.”

“It’s true.” Graystripe raised his head from where he still lay in the shade, with Cinderpaw pressing herbs to his wounds. “I was there when Ravenpaw told Fireheart all this.”

“And I’ve spoken to cats from RiverClan,” Fireheart added. “They tell the same story, that Oakheart died in a rockfall.”

Fireheart expected more noise then, but it never came. An eerie hush had fallen on the Clan. Cats were staring at one another as if they could find a reason for these terrible revelations in the faces of their friends.

“Tigerclaw expected to be made deputy then,” Fireheart went on. “But Bluestar chose Lionheart instead. Then Lionheart died fighting ShadowClan, and at last Tigerclaw achieved his ambition. But being deputy wasn’t enough for him. I…I think that he even laid a trap for Bluestar beside the Thunderpath, but Cinderpaw was caught in it instead.” He glanced at Cinderpaw as he spoke, to see her eyes widen and her jaws open in a gasp of surprise.

Bluestar too looked astonished. “Fireheart told me his suspicions,” she murmured. Her voice shook. “I didn’t—I couldn’t—believe him. I trusted Tigerclaw.” She bowed her head. “I was wrong.”

“But how could he expect to be made leader if he killed you?” asked Mousefur. “The Clan would never support him.”

“I think that’s why he planned this attack the way he did,” Fireheart ventured. “I guess he meant us to think that one of the outlaws killed Bluestar. After all”—Fireheart’s voice grew hard—“who would expect Tigerclaw, the loyal deputy, to lay a claw on his leader?” He fell silent. His whole body was quivering and he felt as limp as a newborn kit.

“Bluestar,” Whitestorm spoke up. “What will happen to Tigerclaw now?”

His question set off a crescendo of furious yowling from the Clan.

“Kill him!”

“Blind him!”

“Drive him out of the forest!”