Fireheart lifted his head, about to speak, but Cinderpaw beat him to it.
“It’s my fault, Tigerclaw.” She stared boldly up at the great tabby. “We were hunting on the frozen stream by the training hollow, on the bend by the deep pool. Even that bit was frozen. I slipped and Graystripe came to help me, but the ice wasn’t thick enough for him and it cracked and he fell into the water.” Tigerclaw looked into her clear, bright eyes as she added, “It really is deep there. Fireheart had to pull him out.”
Fireheart cringed, remembering how he had stood motionless with terror at the sight of Graystripe disappearing into the river.
Tigerclaw nodded and looked at Graystripe. “You’d better get yourself to Yellowfang before you freeze to death.” The ThunderClan deputy stood up and stalked away, and Fireheart breathed a sigh of relief.
Graystripe didn’t hesitate. The long run home hadn’t stopped his teeth from chattering. He bounded away to Yellowfang’s den. Brackenpaw glanced at Cinderpaw and padded off to his nest, his tail drooping with exhaustion.
Fireheart looked at Cinderpaw. “Aren’t you even a bit frightened by Tigerclaw?” he asked curiously.
“Why should I be?” replied Cinderpaw. “He’s a great warrior. I admire him.”
Of course, why shouldn’t she? Fireheart thought. “You lie very well,” he growled sternly, trying his best to act like a mentor.
“Well, I try not to,” mewed Cinderpaw. “I just thought the truth wouldn’t be very helpful here.”
Fireheart had to admit she had a point. He shook his head slowly. “Go and get warm.”
“Yes, Fireheart!” Cinderpaw dipped her head and charged after Brackenpaw.
Fireheart padded over to the warriors’ den. He was worried at how easily the story about Graystripe’s soaking had tumbled from Cinderpaw’s mouth. But he also believed she was a well-meaning and honest cat. He thought of Ravenpaw, another good cat. Had the story he’d told about Tigerclaw killing Redtail simply been just that—a story that tumbled from his mouth in the heat of the moment? Fireheart shook the thought away. Ravenpaw had been terrified when he spoke to Fireheart. He obviously believed his own story. Why else would he have been frightened enough to leave the Clan?
Fireheart chose a few pieces of fresh-kill and carried them over to the nettle clump. He settled himself beside it and began to gnaw thoughtfully on a mouse. The admiration in Cinderpaw’s voice when she had spoken of Tigerclaw worried him. It seemed as though he alone suspected there was more to the ThunderClan deputy than met the eye. Bluestar’s attitude toward Tigerclaw certainly hadn’t changed. She had been treating him with the same trust and respect that she had always shown him. With a flash of frustration, Fireheart ripped another mouthful from his meal.
A loud sneeze made him look up. Graystripe was heading toward him.
“How are you?” Fireheart asked as Graystripe arrived, smelling of one of Yellowfang’s herb concoctions.
Graystripe sat down heavily and coughed.
“I’ve saved you some food,” Fireheart meowed, pushing a plump thrush and a vole toward his friend.
“Yellowfang says I have to stay in camp. She says I have a chill,” Graystripe meowed thickly.
“I’m not surprised. What did she dose you with?”
“Feverfew and lavender.” Graystripe lay down and began to nibble at the thrush. “This’ll be enough for me,” he mumbled. “I’m not very hungry.”
Fireheart looked at his friend in amazement. That wasn’t something he had ever thought he’d hear Graystripe say. “You sure?” he asked. “There’s plenty here.”
Graystripe stared down at the thrush and didn’t reply.
“Are you sure?” Fireheart repeated.
“What?” Graystripe turned his faraway gaze on Fireheart. “Uh, yeah,” he meowed.
He must have a fever, Fireheart decided, shaking his head. Oh, well, at least he was still here, thanks to that RiverClan cat.
A few days later Fireheart woke to find the first fog of leaf-bare filling the den. When he crept outside, he could barely see the other side of the clearing. He heard pawsteps hurrying toward him, and Mousefur appeared out of the gloom.
“Tigerclaw wants to see you,” she meowed.
“Right, thanks,” answered Fireheart. Alarm shot through him. He’d slipped away to visit Princess yesterday. Had Tigerclaw noticed?
“What was that?” Graystripe’s voice wheezed behind him. He sat down beside Fireheart, sneezed, and yawned.
“Tigerclaw wants to see me.” Fireheart looked at his friend. “You should be asleep.” He was beginning to worry about Graystripe. He ought to have recovered by now. “Did you rest up yesterday?” he asked.
“As much as I could between coughing and sneezing,” complained Graystripe.
“Then why weren’t you in your nest when I got back from”—Fireheart hesitated, remembering he’d spent the afternoon talking with Princess—“training?”
“Do you think I get any peace and quiet in there?” Graystripe flicked his head back at the den. “Warriors trooping in and out all day! I found somewhere quieter, that’s all.”
Fireheart was about to ask where, but Graystripe spoke first. “I wonder what Tigerclaw wants?”
Fireheart’s paws prickled. “I’d better go and find out.”
He could just see the shapes of Tigerclaw and Whitestorm through the mist, sitting below the Highrock. As Fireheart padded over to them, they stopped talking and Tigerclaw turned to him. “It’s time Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw were assessed,” he growled.
“Already?” Fireheart meowed in surprise. The apprentices had not been training long.
“Bluestar wants to see how their training is progressing. Especially with Graystripe being too ill to train Brackenpaw. If Brackenpaw is falling behind, she needs to know so she can appoint another mentor for him.”
Fireheart’s tail twitched with annoyance. Surely Graystripe would recover soon. It would be unfair to entrust his first apprentice to someone else. “I’ve been taking Brackenpaw out with me and Cinderpaw every day,” he meowed quickly.
Tigerclaw glanced at Whitestorm and nodded. “Yes, but this is your first time as a mentor. It’s a lot for you to take on, and ThunderClan needs well-trained warriors.”
I know, and I’m just a kittypet, not a Clanborn warrior, Fireheart thought bitterly. He looked down at his paws, stinging with resentment. No one had asked him to take on Brackenpaw, and he’d been putting in a lot of effort with both apprentices.
Tigerclaw went on. “Send Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw on a hunting mission through Tallpines, as far as Twolegplace. Keep an eye on them, watch them hunt, and report to me. I’ll be interested to see how much fresh-kill they add to the pile.”
Whitestorm added, “If Cinderpaw’s skills match her enthusiasm, there should be plenty to eat tonight. I hear she is a keen apprentice.”
“Yes, she is,” Fireheart agreed, though he was barely listening. Tigerclaw’s words had set his heart racing. Why was Tigerclaw sending him to Twolegplace again? His own hunting assessment had been held over exactly the same route, and Tigerclaw had seen him sharing words with an old kittypet friend; he’d reported it to Bluestar and she had questioned Fireheart’s loyalty to the Clan. Fireheart felt the fur along his spine begin to prickle. Was this Tigerclaw’s way of warning him that he had been spotted talking to Princess?
Fireheart twisted his head and gave his back a quick lick, brushing his bristling hairs flat with his tongue. He sat up straight again and calmly suggested, “The Sunningrocks would be an equally good place to test their skills. The sun there might have burned away some of this mist, too.”
“No,” growled Tigerclaw. “The dawn patrol reported scenting RiverClan at Sunningrocks. They may have started hunting there again.” Anger flared in his eyes, and his lip curled to reveal sharp teeth. “They will need to be warned off before we do any more training there. For now, Tallpines would be much safer for the assessment.”
Whitestorm nodded in agreement while Fireheart’s ears twitched uncomfortably at this news. RiverClan at Sunningrocks! It was lucky they hadn’t been spotted by enemy patrols when Graystripe fell into the river.
“As for the fog,” Tigerclaw continued smoothly, “hunting in difficult conditions will make the test more interesting.”
“Yes, Tigerclaw,” meowed Fireheart, ducking his head respectfully to the two warriors. “I’ll tell Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw. We’ll get started right away.”
When Fireheart explained the assessment to the apprentices, Cinderpaw flicked up her tail and ran in an excited circle. “An assessment! Do you think we’re ready?”
“Of course,” Fireheart meowed, hiding his doubts. “You’ve been working hard and learning quickly.”
“But won’t the fog make hunting difficult?” asked Brackenpaw.
Fireheart replied, “There are advantages to the stillness of the air.”
Brackenpaw looked thoughtful, then his eyes began to shine and he mewed, “It’ll be harder to sniff out prey, but it’ll also make it harder for the prey to smell us.”
“Exactly,” Fireheart agreed.
“Shall we go now?” Cinderpaw asked.
“As soon as you like,” answered Fireheart. “But take your time; it’s not a race. . . .” His words were wasted on Cinderpaw, who was already charging toward the camp entrance. “You’ve got till sunset,” he called after her. Brackenpaw glanced at Fireheart and turned to follow his sister with a small sigh.
Fireheart tracked the two apprentices through the Tallpines. The springy layer of pine needles underpaw felt strangely soft after the frozen ground in the rest of the forest. He followed Cinderpaw’s trail until he could see her stalking eagerly through the forest. Then he picked up Brackenpaw’s scent and followed that. The trails crossed here and there. Fireheart could smell where the apprentices had run fast, where they had sat down, even where they had lingered together at one point.
Before long Fireheart found a spot where Cinderpaw had made a kill. She had taken it with her—as he followed her trail, he could smell the scent of her catch mingling with her own. Then he discovered where Brackenpaw had caught a thrush. The feathers were scattered everywhere. The apprentices were hunting well. Fireheart knew this for sure when he detected a scent thick with fresh-kill. He dug down among the needles at the roots of a pine. There was a stash of prey hidden underneath it, left by Cinderpaw to pick up later. Fireheart felt a small glow of pride at her work. She had caught plenty, and now she was heading for the oak woods behind the Twolegplace.
Fireheart followed. Just beyond the edge of the pine forest, he picked up Brackenpaw’s scent. It was strong, which meant the apprentice was nearby. Fireheart crept forward and peered around a young oak. The apprentice was crouching beneath a tangle of brambles, well disguised among its shadows. Fireheart could just see his tail moving as it twitched from side to side.
Brackenpaw had his eyes fixed on a wood mouse that was scrambling around the roots of a tree. Brackenpaw was taking his time. Good, thought Fireheart. He watched Brackenpaw draw himself forward, one step at a time. The leaves beneath his paws hardly made a sound. He was as quiet as the mouse itself, which continued to hunt for food, suspecting nothing. Fireheart watched breathlessly, remembering his first hunting mission.
Brackenpaw closed in. The soft rustle of his paws on leaves melted into the background sounds of the forest. Fireheart found himself willing the apprentice on. Brackenpaw was only a rabbit-length away from the mouse now, his body pressed flat against the forest floor. The mouse scampered onto a root and looked around. It froze. Something was wrong.
Now! thought Fireheart. Brackenpaw sprang and landed on the mouse, grasping it in his front paws. The mouse didn’t have time to struggle. It was over in a single bite.
Brackenpaw raised his head. Fireheart saw the satisfied expression on the young cat’s face as he breathed the scent of his fresh-kill. Then Brackenpaw darted away between the trees. Fireheart realized he was looking forward to reporting back to Tigerclaw about his apprentices.
“Hi!” The small voice behind him made Fireheart jump into the air. He spun around.
“How are we doing?” asked Cinderpaw, looking up at him with her head to one side.
“You’re not meant to ask that!” Fireheart spat, and licked his ruffled fur. “You’re not supposed to speak to me at all. I’m assessing you, remember?”
“Oh!” mewed Cinderpaw. “Sorry.”
Fireheart sighed. He would never have dared to approach Tigerclaw during his own assessment. He didn’t want to scare Cinderpaw into obedience, as Tigerclaw had done with Ravenpaw, but he wouldn’t mind a little respect every now and then. Sometimes he didn’t feel like Cinderpaw’s mentor at all.
Cinderpaw looked at the ground for a moment, then glanced up at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Were you really born over there, in Twolegplace?”
The question caught Fireheart off guard. He glanced nervously in the direction of the Twoleg fence, praying that the strange scents of Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw would keep Princess inside her own garden today. “Why d’you ask?” he mewed, stalling.
“Tigerclaw mentioned it, that’s all,” answered Cinderpaw. She seemed genuinely curious, but Fireheart felt a dark quiver of menace at the mention of Tigerclaw’s name. What else had Tigerclaw been telling Cinderpaw about him?
“I was born a kittypet,” Fireheart meowed firmly. “But I’m a warrior now. My life is with the Clan. My old life wasn’t bad, but it’s over, and I’m glad.”
“Oh, okay,” mewed Cinderpaw, sounding unconcerned. “See you later!” She spun around and charged off into the trees.
Fireheart stood alone in the woods, his heart thudding as he stared at the Twoleg fence. A moon ago, his words to Cinderpaw about being glad his old life was over would have been utterly true. Now he was not so sure. His fur tingled with the knowledge that some of his happiest moments recently had been spent sharing memories with his gentle kittypet sister.