Rising Storm

Patchpelt mewed in agreement, and Fireheart felt his heart pound as he waited for One-Eye to calm the others’ fears with her wise words. But for once she remained silent. Above him the fierce sun continued to shine in a clear, blue sky, yet Fireheart felt chilled to the bone.

He turned away from the elders’ den, unable to face them now, and paced anxiously along the edge of the clearing. As he approached the nursery, Fireheart stared at the ground, lost in thought. A sudden movement outside the nursery entrance made him look up. He froze, and his heart began to pound as he recognized Tigerclaw’s amber eyes gleaming at him. Horrified by the familiar gaze, Fireheart blinked in alarm. Then he realized that it was not the fierce warrior he was looking at, but Bramblekit—Tigerclaw’s son.

Chapter 2

Fireheart saw a ripple of pale amber fur and looked up to see Goldenflower slip out of the nursery behind the dark tabby kit. A pale ginger kit dangled from her jaws, and she placed it gently on the ground next to Bramblekit. Fireheart knew at once that Goldenflower had seen his reaction, for the pale ginger queen wrapped her tail protectively around her kits and lifted her chin, as if she were challenging Fireheart to say something.

Fireheart felt a rush of guilt. What was he thinking of? He was the Clan deputy, for StarClan’s sake! He knew he had to reassure Goldenflower that these kits would be cared for and respected like any other member’s of ThunderClan. “Your…your kits look healthy,” he stammered, but his fur prickled as the dark tabby kit stared up at him with unblinking amber eyes, the image of Tigerclaw’s menacing glare.

Fireheart tried to push away the fear and anger that made him instinctively unsheathe his claws and press them against the hard ground. It was Tigerclaw who betrayed ThunderClan, he told himself. Not this tiny kit.

“It’s Tawnykit’s first time out of the nursery,” Goldenflower told him. She glanced anxiously down at the little kit.

“They’ve grown quickly,” Fireheart murmured.

Goldenflower leaned down and licked each kit on the head, then padded toward Fireheart. “I understand how you feel,” she mewed quietly. “Your eyes have always betrayed your heart. But these are my kits and I will die to protect them if I have to.” She looked up into Fireheart’s eyes and he saw the intensity of her feeling in their yellow depths.

“I’m afraid for them, Fireheart,” she went on. “The Clan will never forgive Tigerclaw—nor should they. But Bramblekit and Tawnykit have done nothing wrong, and I will not let them be punished because of Tigerclaw. I’m not even going to tell them who their father was, just that he was a brave and powerful warrior.”

Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for the troubled queen. “They will be safe here,” he promised, but the amber eyes of Bramblekit still made his paws prickle with unease as Goldenflower turned away.

Behind them Whitestorm squeezed out of the nursery. “Brindleface thinks her two remaining kits are ready to begin their training,” he told Fireheart.

“Does Bluestar know?” Fireheart asked.

Whitestorm shook his head. “Brindleface wanted to share the news with Bluestar herself, but she hasn’t visited the nursery in days.”

Fireheart frowned. The Clan leader usually took an interest in every aspect of Clan life, especially the nursery. Every cat knew how important it was for ThunderClan to have fine, healthy kits.

“I suppose it’s not surprising,” Whitestorm continued. “She’s still recovering from her wounds after the battle with the rogue cats.”

“Shall I go and tell her now?” Fireheart offered.

“Yes. Some good news might cheer her up,” Whitestorm remarked.

With a jolt, Fireheart realized that Whitestorm was as worried as he was about their leader. “I’m sure it will,” he agreed. “ThunderClan hasn’t had this many apprentices in moons.”

“That reminds me,” meowed Whitestorm, his eyes suddenly brightening. “Where’s Cloudpaw? I thought he was fetching prey for the elders.”

Fireheart glanced away awkwardly. “Er, yes, he is. I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

Whitestorm lifted a massive paw and gave it a lick. “The woods are not as safe as they once were,” he murmured, as if he could read Fireheart’s uneasy thoughts. “Don’t forget WindClan and ShadowClan are still angry with us for sheltering Brokentail. They don’t know yet that Brokentail is dead, and they might attack us again.”

Brokentail had once been the leader of ShadowClan. He had nearly destroyed the other Clans in the forest with his greed for more territory. ThunderClan had helped to drive Brokentail out of his troubled Clan, but had later given him sanctuary as a blind and helpless prisoner—a merciful decision that had not been welcomed by his former enemies.