A Dangerous Path Page 20

  He paused. Both apprentices were staring at him with disbelief and horror in their eyes.

  “You mean…he killed a cat of his own Clan?” Tawnypaw faltered.

  “I don’t believe it!” Bramblepaw let out a desperate cry.

  “It’s true,” Fireheart meowed, feeling sick with the effort of telling these kits the truth about their father’s treachery in a way that was loyal to their mother’s insistence that the account be unbiased, and would not alienate the kits from their birth-clan. “He hoped he would be made deputy in Redtail’s place, but Bluestar chose a cat called Lionheart instead.”

  “Tigerstar didn’t kill Lionheart as well?” asked Bramblepaw, his voice quavering.

  “No, he didn’t. Lionheart died in a battle with ShadowClan. Tigerstar became deputy then, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be leader.”

  He paused again, wondering how much to say. No need to burden these apprentices, he decided, with the tale of how Cinderpelt had been injured in a trap set by Tigerstar for Bluestar, or Tigerstar’s attempts to murder Fireheart himself.

  “He gathered a band of rogues from the forest,” he continued. “They attacked ThunderClan, and Tigerstar tried to kill Bluestar.”

  “Kill Bluestar!” Tawnypaw gasped. “But she’s our leader!”

  “Tigerstar thought that he could make himself leader in her place,” Fireheart explained, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “The Clan sent him into exile, and that’s when he joined ShadowClan and became their leader.”

  The two apprentices looked at each other. “So our father was a traitor?” mewed Bramblepaw softly.

  “Well, yes,” Fireheart replied. “But I know it’s hard to think about that. Just remember that both of you can be proud to belong to ThunderClan. And the Clan are proud of you, just as I said. You’re not responsible for what your father did. You can be great warriors, completely loyal to your Clan and the warrior code.”

  “But our father wasn’t loyal,” Tawnypaw mewed. “Does that mean he’s our enemy now?”

  Fireheart met her scared gaze. “All cats from other Clans have to have their own interests at heart,” he told her gently. “That’s what Clan loyalty means. Your father is loyal to ShadowClan now, just as it is your duty to be loyal to ThunderClan.”

  There was silence for a few heartbeats, and then Tawnypaw drew herself up and gave her chest fur a few quick licks. “Thank you for telling us, Fireheart. Is it…is it really true that the rest of the Clan are proud of us?”

  “It really is,” Fireheart assured her. “Don’t forget, the Clan discovered all this when you two were only newborns. And they’ve never wanted to punish you, have they?”

  Tawnypaw blinked gratefully at him. Glancing at Bramblepaw, Fireheart saw that he was gazing up at the sky between the arching fronds of fern. There was no reading the emotion in his amber eyes.

  “Bramblepaw?” Fireheart meowed uneasily. The young cat did not respond. Wanting to reassure him, Fireheart went on, “Work hard and be loyal to your Clan, and no cat will blame you for what your father did.”

  Bramblepaw’s head whipped around; his eyes glared at his mentor with all the hostility that Fireheart had once seen in Tigerstar. He had never looked more like his father. “But that’s not true, is it?” he hissed. “You blame us. I don’t care what you’re saying now. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You think I’ll be a traitor just like he was. You’ll never trust me, whatever I do!”

  Fireheart stared at him, unable to deny the young cat’s accusations. For a few heartbeats he had no idea what to say. While he hesitated, Bramblepaw sprang to his paws and blundered through the ferns to the top of the hollow, where Brackenfur was waiting. Tawnypaw cast one scared look at Fireheart and scurried after her brother.

  Fireheart heard Brackenfur meow, “Ready to go? Let’s head along the border up to Fourtrees.” He paused and called out, “Fireheart, are you ready?”

  “Coming,” Fireheart replied. His heart was heavy as he rose and followed the apprentices. Had he managed to explain to them the true meaning of loyalty, or had he simply succeeded in pushing them further away from ThunderClan, and from him?

  As he and Brackenfur led the apprentices back through their territory, Fireheart kept watch for any signs of the mysterious evil in the forest. He saw nothing; there were no unusual scents, and no signs of scattered prey. The evil, whatever it was, had gone to ground again, and somehow that made Fireheart more afraid. What was it that could wreak such terrible damage, and then fade into the depths of the forest as if it had never been?

  I must talk to Lostface as soon as I can, he decided. The cats were still being hunted, he was sure of that, and it was only a matter of time before another one was caught.

  Early the next morning, Fireheart emerged into the clearing to find the dawn patrol getting ready to leave. Graystripe and Sandstorm were waiting beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel, while Dustpelt was calling Ashpaw from the apprentices’ den. Fireheart hurried toward the entrance, but before he reached it he heard Sandstorm meow loudly to Graystripe, “I’m tired of hanging about. I’ll meet you at the top of the ravine.” Without looking at Fireheart she whipped around and disappeared.

  Sadness almost overwhelmed Fireheart, and he halted at the mouth of the gorse tunnel, tasting the last of Sandstorm’s scent as she retreated.

  “Give her time,” Graystripe meowed, touching his nose to Fireheart’s shoulder. “She’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know. Ever since the meeting with WindClan…”

  He stopped as Dustpelt and Ashpaw hurried up, and stood back to let the rest of the patrol follow Sandstorm. At least, Fireheart told himself, Dustpelt seemed to be reconciled to Graystripe’s return, to the extent of going on patrol with him. Perhaps time was all his friend would need to truly be part of the Clan again.

  Fireheart padded across the clearing to Cinderpelt’s den. Lostface was seated in a patch of sunlight with Cloudtail beside her, gently washing her. The wounds along her sides were healing cleanly, and her ginger-and-white fur was beginning to grow back, and as he approached Fireheart thought for a single heartbeat that she was almost back to normal. Then she lifted her head, and for the first time he saw the damaged side of her face without its covering of cobwebs.

  Freshly healed scars were stretched across Lostface’s cheek, bare flesh where no fur would ever grow. Her eye was gone, and her ear was reduced to a few shreds. Fireheart realized how dreadfully apt the name Lostface was, and remembered her as she had been before, bright and lively. Anger burned deep in his belly. Somehow he must drive this evil out of the forest!

  Lostface let out a faint whimper as Fireheart approached, and shrank closer to Cloudtail.

  “It’s okay,” Cloudtail mewed softly. “It’s only Fireheart.” Looking up at his former mentor, he explained, “You came up on her blind side. She’s scared when cats do that, but she’s getting better every day.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Cinderpelt, emerging from her den. Limping over to Fireheart so she could speak to him without Lostface overhearing, she went on, “To be honest, there’s not much more I can do for her. She just needs time to get strong.”

  “How long?” Fireheart asked. “I need to talk to her—and it’s time Cloudtail was going back to his warrior duties. I know Sandstorm wants him for her hunting patrol.” He gave his kin a sympathetic glance, still admiring him for his loyalty to Lostface.

  Cinderpelt shrugged. “I’ll have to let Lostface decide when she feels ready to leave my den. Have you thought about what’s going to happen to her now?”

  Fireheart shook his head. “Officially she’s a warrior….”

  “And you think she’d be happy among you ruffians in the warriors’ den?” Cinderpelt let out a mew of exasperation. “She still needs someone to look after her.”

  “I think she could go and live with the elders, at least while she’s still getting stronger.” It was Cloudtail who spoke; he had padded over to join
Fireheart and the medicine cat. “Speckletail is still grieving in the elders’ den for Snowkit. It would do her good to have another cat to care for.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” Fireheart meowed warmly.

  “I’m not sure,” Cinderpelt objected. “What’s Speckletail going to think? You know how prickly and proud she is. She wouldn’t like the idea that you were doing her a favor by trying to distract her from Snowkit’s death.”

  “Leave Speckletail to me,” Fireheart meowed. “I’ll tell her that she’s doing me a favor by looking after Lostface.”

  “That might work,” agreed Cinderpelt. “And when Lostface is a bit better, she could help the elders and free up the apprentices for other duties.”

  “Let’s ask her,” meowed Cloudtail. He bounded back to Lostface’s side and pressed close to her. “Lostface, Fireheart wants to talk to you.”

  Fireheart followed. “Lostface, it’s Fireheart.” Her ravaged face turned slowly toward him. “Would you like to go and stay with the elders for a while?” he suggested. “It would be a load off my mind if you could help look after them—the apprentices have too much to do as it is.”

  Lostface gave a nervous start and looked at Cloudtail with her one good eye. “I don’t have to, do I? I’m not an elder.”

  Cloudtail pressed his muzzle against her wounded face. “No one will make you do anything you don’t want to.”

  “But you’d be doing me a favor,” Fireheart added quickly. “Speckletail’s still grieving for Snowkit, and it will do her good to have a young, energetic cat around.” As Lostface still hesitated, he went on: “It’s just until you get your strength back.”

  “And when you’re strong again, I’ll help you train,” Cloudtail added. “I’m sure you’ll be able to hunt with your good eye and ear. It’ll just take a bit of practice.”

  Lostface’s eye began to glow with hope, and she nodded slowly. “All right, Fireheart. If that’s the best way I can be useful.”

  “It is, I promise. And Lostface”—Fireheart crouched down beside her and gave her a reassuring lick—“is there anything you can tell me about that day in the forest? Did you see what attacked you?”

  Lostface’s flicker of confidence died, and she shrank back against Cloudtail again. “I don’t remember,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry, Fireheart; I don’t remember.”

  Cloudtail licked her head comfortingly. “It’s all right; you don’t have to think about it now.”

  Fireheart tried to hide his disappointment. “Never mind. If you do think of anything, tell me right away.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Cloudtail growled. “When we find out who did this to her, I’ll make crowfood of them. I promise you that.”

  CHAPTER 22

  A full moon crossed the sky behind thin wisps of cloud as Bluestar led her warriors to the Gathering. Fireheart was already uneasy. In spite of her declaration of war against StarClan, Bluestar had insisted on going. “How can I trust you to lead the Clan?” she had spat at her deputy when he had asked her which warriors he should take. Fireheart had simply bowed his head in obedience, but he could still feel the pain of knowing that his leader was convinced he was a traitor.

  He also had his doubts about including Graystripe, but his friend had begged desperately to be allowed to come. “Please, Fireheart! I’ll be able to get news of Featherkit and Stormkit,” he had meowed. Fireheart knew that Graystripe was inviting hostility from RiverClan by appearing so soon after the battle at Sunningrocks, and had half hoped that Bluestar would refuse. But the ThunderClan leader had merely flicked her tail dismissively. “Let him come. You’re all traitors, so what does it matter?”

  Now Fireheart bunched together with the other ThunderClan warriors to follow Bluestar down the slope. As they emerged into the hollow, the first thing he saw was Tigerstar and Leopardstar sitting side by side, watching approvingly as a group of their apprentices scuffled playfully with eachother. Fireheart’s fur crawled as he saw those two together. He still had no evidence that Tigerstar was plotting revenge on his former Clan, but Leopardstar would certainly be feeling hostile after her Clan’s defeat at Sunningrocks.

  “You’ve done a good job there,” meowed Leopardstar to her companion. “Those are strong young cats, and they’ve learned their fighting moves well.”

  A purr rumbled in Tigerstar’s chest. “We’ve made some progress,” he agreed. “But there’s a long way to go yet.”

  A pair of tumbling apprentices rolled right up to their leaders’ paws and Leopardstar shifted backwards to give them more room. The young ShadowClan cats were certainly muscular and well fed, Fireheart thought; he could hardly believe they were the same scrawny creatures who had almost died when the sickness swept through their Clan. He exchanged an uneasy glance with Graystripe; sooner or later, he was sure, ThunderClan would have to meet these skilled fighters in battle.

  At a word from Tigerstar the apprentices stopped their playful skirmish and sat up, licking their ruffled fur. The two leaders began to make their way toward the Great Rock. Fireheart spotted Bluestar already waiting at its base, but he couldn’t see Tallstar, the WindClan leader.

  As the ThunderClan cats dispersed to meet with warriors in other Clans, he noticed Graystripe hurrying up to a plump bracken-colored she-cat, and caught the scent of RiverClan from her. Fireheart felt a pang of anxiety as he watched his friend. He trusted Graystripe absolutely, even though he would always have one paw in RiverClan while his kits were there. But several ThunderClan warriors would doubt his loyalty if they saw him so eager to talk to a RiverClan cat.

  “Mosspelt, how are you?” Graystripe greeted the she-cat. “How are Featherkit and Stormkit?”

  “Featherpaw and Stormpaw now,” replied Mosspelt proudly. “They’ve just been apprenticed.”

  “That’s great!” Graystripe’s yellow eyes were glowing as he turned to Fireheart. “Did you hear what Mosspelt said? My kits are apprentices now.” He glanced around. “They’re not here, are they?”

  Mosspelt shook her head. “They’re too newly apprenticed for that. Maybe next time. I’ll tell them you were asking after them, Graystripe.”

  “Thanks.” Graystripe’s excitement faded and was replaced by anxiety. “What did they think when I didn’t come back from the battle?”

  “Once they knew you weren’t dead, they coped well,” replied Mosspelt. “Come on, Graystripe; it wasn’t much of a shock. Every cat in RiverClan knew you would go back eventually.”

  Graystripe blinked in surprise. “Really?”

  “Really. All the time you used to spend mooning around on the border or looking across the river. All the stories you told those kits about what you and Fireheart used to get up to when you were apprentices…It wasn’t hard to see that your heart had never left ThunderClan.”

  Graystripe blinked again. “I’m sorry, Mosspelt.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” retorted Mosspelt briskly. “And you can be sure that your kits will be well cared for. I’ll keep an eye on them, and Mistyfoot and Stonefur are mentoring them.”

  “They are?” Graystripe’s eyes lit up again. “That’s great!”

  Fireheart felt a pang of misgiving. Mistyfoot and Stonefur were both fine warriors, but he wondered why they had agreed to mentor Graystripe’s kits. Mistyfoot had been a good friend to their mother, Silverstream, and so she might be expected to take an interest. But she and her brother had reacted with such hostility when he told them that Bluestar was their mother that Fireheart was surprised they wanted anything to do with kits who were half ThunderClan. Or was it possible that they wanted to teach the kits to be especially hostile toward their father’s Clan?

  “You’ll tell them how proud I am, won’t you?” Graystripe meowed urgently to Mosspelt. “And remind them to do what their mentors tell them?”

  “Of course I will.” Mosspelt let out a reassuring purr. “And I know Mistyfoot will help you keep in touch with them. Leopardstar might not like it, but…well, what she
doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  Fireheart had his doubts; after her rejection of Bluestar, Mistyfoot might not want anything more to do with ThunderClan. He suspected she would feel more loyal than ever to RiverClan and Graypool, the cat she had always loved as her mother.

  “Thanks, Mosspelt,” mewed Graystripe. “I won’t forget all you’ve done.” He looked around as yowling sounded from the top of the Great Rock to signal the start of the meeting.

  Turning, Fireheart saw that all four leaders were now assembled, their pelts shining in the moonlight as they stood looking down at the cats below. He paid little attention as the leaders formally opened the meeting. Instead, he wondered whether Bluestar would mention the terrible assault on Swiftpaw and Brightpaw, and whether any of the other leaders had similar news. Fireheart almost hoped that they had, because that would prove that the dark force in the forest was not a threat to ThunderClan alone, and so had not been sent by StarClan to punish Bluestar’s challenge to them. Fireheart couldn’t help thinking it was something greater even than that, a huge shadow that encompassed the whole forest; something that did not know the warrior code and regarded the cats merely as its prey.

  When Tallstar had finished, Tigerstar stepped forward. He gave a quick summary of how ShadowClan’s training program was progressing, that another new litter of kits had been born, and that three apprentices had been made into warriors. “ShadowClan grows strong again,” he finished. “We are ready to take a full part in the life of the forest.”

  Fireheart wondered if that meant ready to attack our neighbors. He waited with a sinking heart for Tigerstar to make a case for expanding his territory. The ShadowClan leader had paused and was gazing down at the assembled cats as if he had something particularly important to say.

  “I have a request to make,” he began. “Many of you know that when I left ThunderClan, two kits of mine were in the nursery. They were too young then to travel, and I am grateful to ThunderClan for the care they have given them. But now it’s time for them to join me in the Clan where they rightfully belong. Bluestar, I ask that you give me Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw.”