Forest Of Secrets

As the sun slid down behind the trees, Fireheart waited by the gorse tunnel. Leaves rustled above his head, and the air was filled with the warm scents of late newleaf, but Fireheart was barely conscious of his surroundings. His mind was full of thoughts of Graystripe. There was no way he was going to let his friend give up his kits without making one last attempt to stop him.

At last Graystripe emerged from the nursery, herding the two kits on stumpy, unsteady legs in front of him. The small dark-gray tom already looked as if he would grow into a sturdy warrior, while the she-cat with her silvery coat was a copy of her mother, promising the same beauty and swiftness.

Goldenflower followed them out of the nursery and dipped her head to touch noses with both kits. “Farewell, my beloveds,” she mewed sadly.

The two kits let out bewildered meows as Graystripe nudged them away, and Goldenflower’s own kits nuzzled their mother’s flank, as if they meant to comfort her.

“Graystripe—” Fireheart began, stepping forward as his friend approached with the kits.

“Don’t say anything,” Graystripe interrupted him. “You’ll understand soon. Will you come with me to the stepping-stones? I…I need your help to carry the kits.”

“Of course, if you want me to.” Fireheart was ready to agree to anything that seemed to offer the smallest chance of persuading Graystripe to change his mind and keep the kits.

The two warriors padded together through the forest, as they had done so many times before. They each carried one of the kits; the tiny scraps mewed and wriggled as if they wanted to walk on their own paws. Fireheart did not know how his friend could bear to give them up. Had Bluestar felt like this, he wondered, when she looked on her own kits for the last time before letting Oakheart have them?

By the time they reached the stepping-stones, the red light of sunset was fading. The moon was beginning to rise, and the river was a silvery ribbon that reflected the pale sky. Its liquid murmur filled the air, and the long grass on the edge of the shore felt fresh and cool beneath Fireheart’s paws.

Fireheart set down the kit he was carrying in a soft clump of grass, and Graystripe placed the other gently beside it. Then he moved away a pace or two, jerking his head for Fireheart to follow him. “You were right,” he meowed. “I can’t give up my kits.”

Sudden joy flooded through Fireheart. Graystripe had changed his mind! They could take the kits home, and face up to the threat from RiverClan, whatever it might be. Then his heart froze as Graystripe went on.

“I’m going with them. They’re all I have left of Silverstream, and she told me to take care of them. I’d die if I were parted from them.”

Fireheart stared at him, his mouth dropping open. “What? You can’t!” he gasped. “You belong to ThunderClan.”

Graystripe shook his head. “Not anymore. They don’t want me, not since they found out about me and Silverstream. They’ll never trust me again. I don’t even know if I want them to trust me anymore. I don’t think I’ve got any Clan loyalty left.”

His words clutched at Fireheart’s belly like the claws of an enemy, trying to tear it into shreds. “Oh, Graystripe,” he whispered. “What about me? I want you there. I’d trust you with my life, and I’d never betray you.”

Graystripe’s yellow eyes were brimming with sorrow. “I know,” he murmured. “No cat ever had such a friend as you. I’d give my life for you; you know that.”

“Then stay in ThunderClan!”

“I can’t. That’s the only thing I can’t do for you. I belong with my kits, and they belong in RiverClan. Oh, Fireheart, Fireheart…” His voice trailed off into an anguished wail. “I’m being torn in two!”

Fireheart pressed close to him, licking his ear and feeling the trembling that racked his friend’s powerful body. They had been through so much together. Graystripe had been the first Clan cat he had ever spoken to, as a kittypet lost in the woods. He had been his first friend in ThunderClan. They had trained together and been made warriors together. They had hunted in the hot days of greenleaf when the air was filled with scent and the murmuring of bees, and through a bitter leaf-bare when the whole world was frozen. Together they had discovered the truth about Tigerclaw, and risked Bluestar’s anger to do it.

And now it was coming to an end.

But worst of all, Fireheart could not find the words to argue with his friend. It was true that ThunderClan still mistrusted the gray warrior for his love of Silverstream, and they showed no sign that they would ever fully accept his kits. If they had fought to keep them, it would have been only for the honor of the Clan. Fireheart could see no future for his friend or the kits in ThunderClan.

At last Graystripe moved away and went back to call the kits. They stumbled up to him, mewling in tiny, high-pitched voices. “It’s time,” he meowed softly to Fireheart. “I’ll see you at the next Gathering.”

“It won’t be the same.”