Leopardfur lifted her head and yowled into the wind, “Whiteclaw! No!”
Graystripe scrambled backward until all four paws were on safe ground. His wet fur was bristling and his eyes were wide with shock. “I tried to grab him . . . he just lost his footing . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” The words tumbled out breathlessly. Fireheart bounded across to his friend and pressed his nose into his flank for comfort, but Graystripe backed blindly away.
One by one, the other cats turned away from the edge and looked at Graystripe. The RiverClan cats’ eyes were narrowed with fury, their shoulders tense. Willowpelt and Whitestorm moved instinctively toward Graystripe, taking up defensive positions on either side of him.
Leopardfur growled deep in her throat, but it was a warning to her own cats. They were to stay back. The RiverClan deputy stared Tigerclaw straight in the eye. “This has gone beyond a border fight,” she murmured. “We shall return to our Clan. It has become a matter to settle at another time and in a different way.”
Tigerclaw defiantly returned Leopardfur’s stare. He showed no fear, but merely gave the smallest of nods. Leopardfur flicked the tip of her tail, then turned and padded away. The RiverClan cats followed her, and the whole patrol disappeared into the bushes.
Leopardfur’s menacing words made Fireheart shiver. A sense of foreboding settled over his heart like a cold shadow as he realized that this battle might have started a war.
“We should leave,” meowed Deadfoot, limping forward. “Your two young warriors served us well, and my Clan thanks you.” But the formal words of gratitude sounded hollow after the tragedy they had just witnessed. Tigerclaw nodded, and the two WindClan warriors began to head back toward their own territory. Fireheart meowed a quiet farewell to Onewhisker as he passed. Onewhisker glanced briefly at him, and walked on.
Fireheart noticed that Sandpaw was standing at the edge of the gorge, staring down at the torrent below. Her paws seemed frozen to the ground, and her eyes remained fixed on the steep drop. Fireheart guessed she had realized how close she had come to sharing Whiteclaw’s fate.
Fireheart started toward her but Tigerclaw growled, “Follow me!”
The tabby warrior charged away through the trees, and the rest of his patrol followed after him, but Fireheart hesitated beside Graystripe. “Come on,” he urged. “We should keep up!” Graystripe shrugged, his eyes dull and clouded with pain, and began to pad after the others, dragging his paws as if they were made from stone.
Soon the cats ahead of them were out of sight, but Fireheart was able to track them by their scent. Tigerclaw was leading them back toward ThunderClan territory, straight through RiverClan’s strip of forest. Fireheart guessed there was no need to worry about RiverClan patrols right now. The damage had been done. It would be pointless to take the long way around by Fourtrees.
Tigerclaw had halted the patrol and was waiting for Fireheart and Graystripe at the border of ThunderClan’s territory.
“I thought I told you to follow me,” he growled.
“Graystripe was—” Fireheart began.
“The sooner Graystripe gets back to camp, the better,” interrupted Tigerclaw.
Graystripe said nothing, but Fireheart bristled at the deputy’s harsh tone. “Whiteclaw’s death wasn’t his fault!”
Tigerclaw turned away. “I know,” he meowed. “But it’s done. Come on, and this time keep up!” He leaped away, crossing the scent markers that bounded ThunderClan territory.
Fireheart had been looking forward to this moment since leaving WindClan’s den among the Thunderpaths. Now he hardly noticed as he pounded past the markers, keeping one eye on Graystripe.
The rain eased as they followed the familiar trail to the camp. When the patrol emerged from the gorse tunnel, some of the other Clan cats bounded out of their dens, their tails held high in greeting.
“Did you find WindClan? Are they safe?” Mousefur called. Fireheart nodded absently, but felt too hollow to reply. Mousefur’s tail dropped. The other cats hung back at the edge of the clearing. The expressions on the faces of the returning cats told them that something serious had happened.
“Come with me,” Tigerclaw ordered Fireheart and Graystripe, leading them toward Bluestar’s den. Fireheart kept close to Graystripe so that his fur brushed against his friend. Graystripe just padded onward, neither drawing closer to Fireheart nor moving away.
A warm mew welcomed them from the shadows beyond the lichen. The three cats pushed their way into the snug cave.
“Welcome!” Bluestar leaped up, purring. “Did you find WindClan? Did you bring them back?”
“Yes, Bluestar,” Fireheart replied quietly. “They are safe in their camp. Tallstar told me to thank you.”
“Good, good,” meowed Bluestar. Her eyes darkened as she noticed Tigerclaw’s grim expression. “What has happened?”
“Fireheart decided to return home through RiverClan territory,” growled Tigerclaw.
Graystripe looked up for the first time. “It wasn’t just Fireheart who decided—” he began.
Tigerclaw interrupted him. “They were found by a RiverClan patrol. If my patrol hadn’t heard their yelps in time, they wouldn’t have made it home at all.”
“So you rescued them,” meowed Bluestar, relaxing. “Thank you, Tigerclaw.”
“It’s not that simple.” Tigerclaw snorted. “They were fighting beside the gorge. A RiverClan warrior who was battling Graystripe fell over the edge.” Fireheart noticed Graystripe flinch at Tigerclaw’s words.
Bluestar’s eyes widened. “Dead?” she asked, looking horrified.
Fireheart meowed quickly, “It was an accident! Graystripe would never kill a cat over a border fight!”
“I doubt Leopardfur sees it that way.” Tigerclaw turned on Fireheart, his tail lashing from side to side. “What were you thinking? Traveling through RiverClan territory! And with WindClan cats. You’ve sent a message that we are their allies, which will only drive RiverClan and ShadowClan closer together.”
“WindClan was with you in RiverClan territory?” Bluestar looked even more alarmed.
“Just two warriors. Tallstar gave us an escort home; we were tired. . . .” Fireheart murmured.
“You should not have been in RiverClan territory,” Tigerclaw snarled. “Especially with WindClan cats.”
“It wasn’t an alliance. They were escorting us back home!” Fireheart protested.
“Does RiverClan know that?” spat Tigerclaw.
“RiverClan knew we were going to find WindClan and bring them back. They agreed to it at the Gathering. They shouldn’t have attacked us—it was a special mission, like the journey to Highstones.”
“They didn’t agree to let you travel through their territory!” spat Tigerclaw. “You still don’t understand Clan ways, do you?”
Bluestar stood up. Her eyes flashed as she looked around at the three cats, but her voice was calm. “You should not have entered RiverClan’s hunting grounds. It was a dangerous thing to do.” She looked sternly from Fireheart to Graystripe. Fireheart searched her eyes for a harsher reproach, but could find none. He felt torn between gratitude and guilt. He had caused a rift with RiverClan that might threaten the safety of his Clan for many moons.
Bluestar went on, flicking her tail uneasily. “At the same time, you did well to find WindClan and bring it back. But we will need to prepare ourselves for an attack from RiverClan. We need to start training more warriors. Fireheart and Graystripe, Frostfur tells me two of her kits are almost ready to begin their training. I want each of you to take a kit as your apprentice.”
Fireheart felt stunned. What an honor! He couldn’t believe Bluestar had suggested it—especially now. He glanced furtively at Tigerclaw. The deputy sat rigid as a rock.
Graystripe raised his head. “But none of Frostfur’s kits are six moons yet!”
“It won’t be long before they are. The divisions at the last Gathering troubled me, and today . . .” Bluestar’s voice trailed off, and Fireheart noticed Graystripe look down at his paws once more.
Tigerclaw was staring at Bluestar, his amber eyes hard. “Wouldn’t it be better to ask more experienced warriors like Longtail or Darkstripe to take on another apprentice?” he asked. “These two are hardly more than apprentices themselves!”
“I did consider that,” replied Bluestar. “But Longtail will be busy enough with Swiftpaw, and Darkstripe is getting Dustpaw ready to become a full warrior.”
“What about Runningwind?” Tigerclaw asked.
“Runningwind is a fine hunter and a loyal warrior,” Bluestar answered. “But I don’t think he has the patience for mentoring. ThunderClan has better use for his skills.”
“And you think these two have got what it takes to train ThunderClan warriors?” Tigerclaw meowed scornfully.
Fireheart flinched. Tigerclaw was eyeing him alone as he spoke. Does he think a kittypet is not fit to train Clanborn cats? he wondered angrily.
Bluestar stared back at her deputy. “We shall find out. Don’t forget, they brought WindClan home. And of course, Tigerclaw,” she added, “I am relying on you to oversee the training.” Tigerclaw nodded, and Bluestar turned back to Fireheart and Graystripe. “Get something to eat,” she ordered. “Then rest. We’ll have the naming ceremony for the kits at moonhigh.”
Fireheart led Graystripe out of the den, leaving Tigerclaw behind with Bluestar. The rain had eased to a fine drizzle.
“I’m starving,” meowed Fireheart. He could smell the warm scent of fresh-kill in the clearing. “Are you coming to get something to eat?”
Graystripe stood behind him, his eyes distant and sad. He slowly shook his head. “I just want to sleep,” he muttered.
Once his stomach was full, Fireheart pushed his way into the warriors’ den. Graystripe was curled up in a ball, his head tucked beneath his paws. Fireheart’s eyes felt heavy, but his fur was still soaked, and he forced himself to wash thoroughly before settling into his warm nest.
Willowpelt woke Fireheart with a gentle prod. “Time for the ceremony,” she whispered.
Fireheart lifted his head and blinked. “Thanks, Willowpelt,” he meowed as she ducked out of the den.
He nudged Graystripe. “Ceremony,” he hissed, then stood and stretched up on his toes until his legs quivered. He was about to become a mentor! Excitement tingled in his paws.
Graystripe stirred and uncurled slowly, like an old cat. Suddenly Fireheart’s paws seemed to remember their long journey and began to ache again.
At least the rain had stopped. In silence, Fireheart and Graystripe padded into the clearing. The moon shone above the trees, turning the wet branches silver.
“Well done for bringing WindClan home!” The cheery voice made Fireheart jump. He turned to see Halftail settling down beside him. “You must come and share the story with the elders one night.”
Fireheart nodded absently, then looked back into the clearing. Frostfur was already sitting below the Highrock. A kit sat on either side of her, one smudgy gray and one ginger. The white queen twisted her head and licked behind their ears. The little gray she-kit shook her head impatiently as her mother fussed over her.
Once more, excitement made Fireheart’s fur tingle.
Beside him Graystripe sat staring at the ground. “Aren’t you excited?” Fireheart asked.
Graystripe shrugged.
“Graystripe”—Fireheart lowered his voice—“Whiteclaw’s death wasn’t your fault. It was the worst place for an attack, and the RiverClan cats would have known that. Sandpaw nearly fell over the edge too,” he added.
He glanced at Sandpaw sitting nearby. Beside her, Dustpaw stared at Fireheart with raw jealousy in his eyes. Fireheart couldn’t blame him. He was about to become a mentor when Dustpaw hadn’t even been given his warrior name. But he flinched when Dustpaw leaned toward Sandpaw and whispered, loud enough for Fireheart to hear, “I feel sorry for Fireheart’s apprentice. Imagine a Clan cat being trained by a kittypet!”
But for once Sandpaw didn’t react. She just shot an uncomfortable glance at Fireheart.
Fireheart turned back to Graystripe. “Bluestar doesn’t blame you,” he insisted. “She knows you’re a good warrior. She’s giving you your own apprentice.”
Graystripe lifted his eyes and replied bitterly, “She’s just doing it because ThunderClan needs more apprentices. And why do we need them? Because I’ve given RiverClan an excuse to hate us!”
Fireheart was shocked by the harshness in Graystripe’s tone. Bluestar’s meow summoned them before he could say anything more. Fireheart padded toward his Clan leader, Graystripe trailing after him.
When they reached the center of the clearing, Bluestar gazed around at the assembly of cats. “This moonhigh, we gather together to name two new apprentices. Come forward, you two.”
The gray kit darted from her mother’s side into the clearing, her fluffy tail held high and her blue eyes wide. The ginger kit came forward more slowly. His ears were pricked, and he frowned with seriousness as he walked to the foot of the Highrock.
Fireheart’s heart began to pound in his chest—which one of these kits would he be given? He couldn’t help feeling that the solemn-faced ginger kit would be easier to train, but there was something about the gray kit’s clumsy enthusiasm that reminded him of himself when he had first joined the Clan.
“From this day forward,” Bluestar meowed, gazing down at the little gray kit, “until she has earned her warrior name, this apprentice will be called Cinderpaw.”
“Cinderpaw!” The gray kit couldn’t help mewing her new name out loud. A quietening hiss came from Frostfur, and Cinderpaw ducked her head apologetically.
“Fireheart,” meowed Bluestar, “you are ready for your first apprentice. You will begin Cinderpaw’s training.” Pride swelled in Fireheart’s chest. “You are fortunate, Fireheart, to have had more than one mentor. I expect you to pass on everything I taught you to this young apprentice”—Fireheart suddenly began to feel a bit overwhelmed. Bluestar’s words carried a weight of responsibility he wasn’t sure he was ready for—“and share with her the skills you learned from Tigerclaw and Lionheart.”
At the mention of Lionheart, Fireheart pictured the golden warrior looking down on him from Silverpelt with warm, encouraging eyes. He lifted his head and returned Bluestar’s gaze as steadily as he could.
“And this apprentice”—Bluestar turned her gaze toward the ginger kit—“will be known as Brackenpaw.” Brackenpaw didn’t move or make a sound.
“Graystripe, you will train Brackenpaw. Our lost friend Lionheart was your mentor. I hope that his skill and wisdom will pass through you to your new apprentice.”
Graystripe lifted his head high at Bluestar’s words, and for a moment a gleam of pride showed in his eyes. He stepped forward and touched his new apprentice’s nose with his own. Brackenpaw returned the touch politely. Only his eyes, which shone like stars, gave away the fact that this young cat was as excited as his sister.
As soon as Fireheart saw the pair touch noses, he realized he should have done the same. He stepped forward quickly. Cinderpaw jerked her head up and their noses collided painfully. Cinderpaw touched his nose again, this time less awkwardly, but Fireheart’s eyes were beginning to water. He could see that Cinderpaw was trying to stop her whiskers from twitching with amusement, and a flush of embarrassment washed over him. I’m a mentor, he reminded himself.
Fireheart looked around at the rest of the Clan. Every cat seemed to be nodding approvingly. Then his eyes found Tigerclaw. From the edge of the clearing, the deputy’s amber gaze seemed to mock him.
Fireheart looked hastily down at Cinderpaw, who was staring at him with undisguised pride. Fireheart’s fur suddenly began to prickle. He wanted to be a great warrior and a good mentor more than anything else, but it seemed painfully clear that Tigerclaw was just waiting for him to fail.