Rising Storm

“And the evening patrol?” Mousefur asked mildly. Fireheart stared back at the dusky brown she-cat, his mind suddenly blank.

Whitestorm’s rusty mew sounded beside Fireheart. “I’d like to lead the evening patrol,” he meowed. “Do you think Swiftpaw and Longtail would like to come with me when they return?”

“Yes, of course.” Fireheart looked around the circle of eyes and was relieved to see that they all seemed satisfied.

The cats moved away, leaving Fireheart alone with Whitestorm. “Thanks,” he meowed, dipping his head to the old warrior. “I guess I should have planned the patrols before now.”

“It’ll get easier,” Whitestorm reassured him. “We have all grown used to Tigerclaw telling us exactly what to do and when.”

Fireheart glanced away, his heart sinking.

“They’re also bound to be more edgy than usual,” Whitestorm went on. “Tigerclaw’s treachery has shaken the whole Clan.”

Fireheart looked at the white warrior and understood that Whitestorm was trying to encourage him. It was easy to forget that Tigerclaw’s actions had come as a massive shock to the rest of the Clan. Fireheart had known for a long time that Tigerclaw’s hunger for power had driven him to murder and lies. But the other cats had found it hard to believe that the fearless warrior would turn against his own Clan. Whitestorm’s words reminded Fireheart that, even if he did not yet have Tigerclaw’s confident authority, he would never betray his Clan as Tigerclaw had done.

Whitestorm’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I must go and see Brindleface. She said there was something she wanted to talk to me about.” He dipped his head. The warrior’s respectful gesture took Fireheart by surprise, and he nodded awkwardly in reply.

As he watched Whitestorm leave, Fireheart’s belly growled with hunger and he thought of the juicy pigeon Cloudpaw had caught. Whitestorm’s ginger-and-white apprentice, Brightpaw, sat outside the apprentices’ den, and Fireheart wondered if she’d brought the elders any fresh-kill. He padded over to the old tree stump where she was washing her tail. She lifted her head and mewed, “Hello, Fireheart.”

“Hi, Brightpaw. Been hunting?” Fireheart asked.

“Yes,” replied Brightpaw, her eyes shining. “It’s the first time Whitestorm’s let me out by myself.”

“Catch much?”

Brightpaw looked shyly at her paws. “Two sparrows and a squirrel.”

“Well done,” Fireheart purred. “I bet Whitestorm was pleased.”

Brightpaw nodded.

“Did you take it straight to the elders?”

“Yes.” Brightpaw’s eyes clouded with worry. “Was that okay?” she mewed anxiously.

“That was great,” Fireheart assured her. If only his own apprentice were so reliable. Cloudpaw should have been back by now. The elders would need more than two sparrows and a squirrel to fill their bellies. He decided to visit them to check that they were not suffering too much from the greenleaf heat. As he approached the fallen oak where the elders made their den, voices drifted up from behind its bare branches.

“Willowpelt’s kits will be born soon.” That was Speckletail. She was the oldest queen in the nursery, and her single kit was weak and small for its age after a bout of whitecough.

“New kits are always a good omen,” purred One-Eye.

“StarClan knows we could do with a good omen,” Smallear muttered darkly.

“You’re not still fretting about the ritual, are you?” croaked Patchpelt. Fireheart could imagine the old black-and-white tom flicking his ears impatiently at Smallear.

“The what?” meowed One-Eye.

“The naming ceremony for the new Clan deputy,” Patchpelt explained loudly. “You know, when Tigerclaw left, a quarter moon ago.”

“It’s my ears that don’t work as well as they used to, not my mind!” snapped One-Eye. She went on, and the other cats listened in silence because One-Eye was respected for her wisdom in spite of her bad temper. “I don’t think StarClan would punish us just because Bluestar failed to name the new deputy before moonhigh. The circumstances were very unusual.”

“But that just makes it worse!” fretted Dappletail. “What will StarClan think of a Clan whose deputy turns against it, and whose new deputy was named after moonhigh? It looks as if we can’t keep our cats loyal, or even carry out the proper ceremonies.”

Fireheart felt an icy ripple along his spine. When Bluestar had learned about Tigerclaw’s treachery and banished him from the Clan, she had been too upset to carry out the proper rituals for appointing a new deputy. Fireheart had not been named as Tigerclaw’s successor until the following day, and to many cats this was a very bad omen.

“Fireheart’s naming broke with Clan ritual for the first time I can remember,” meowed Smallear in a grave tone. “I hate to say it, but I can’t help feeling that his deputyship will be a dark time for ThunderClan.”