The days leading up to the next full moon dragged by slowly for Fireheart. It already seemed ages since the last Gathering. Rain clouds had kept the moon covered the last time, and the Clans had stayed away from Fourtrees. Meanwhile patrol after patrol reported scenting RiverClan warriors at Sunningrocks, and ShadowClan scent had been discovered again by the Owl Tree.
When he wasn’t hunting or patrolling, Fireheart divided his time between Cloudkit, Cinderpaw, and Brackenpaw. Even though Graystripe had resumed his role as Brackenpaw’s mentor, Fireheart soon began to notice the young apprentice at loose ends from time to time, his mentor nowhere in sight. “Hunting,” was all Brackenpaw would say when Fireheart asked where Graystripe had gone.
“Why didn’t you go with him?” meowed Fireheart.
“He said I could go tomorrow.”
Fireheart felt the usual prickle of anger at Graystripe’s stubbornness, but he shrugged it away. He’d given up trying to make Graystripe see sense—they’d hardly spoken since Fireheart had brought Cloudkit into the camp—but he made an effort to take Brackenpaw out whenever Graystripe went missing, just to keep the apprentice out of sight. Fireheart knew that Tigerclaw wouldn’t accept Brackenpaw’s answers so easily.
Finally the full moon appeared in a cloudless sky. Fireheart came back from hunting early. He passed the fallen oak, deserted now that Swiftpaw and Speckletail’s kit had recovered. He dropped his catch on the pile and headed toward Yellowfang’s den to visit Cinderpaw. Even the threat of greencough had left the camp, for now. Only Cinderpaw remained with the medicine cat.
As Fireheart padded through the tunnel he could see the small gray she-cat in the clearing ahead. She was helping Yellowfang prepare some herbs. Fireheart winced as he watched Cinderpaw limp heavily toward the split rock with a mouthful of dried leaves.
“Fireheart!” Cinderpaw spat out the herbs and turned to greet him as he emerged from the tunnel. “I could only just scent you through these disgusting things!”
“Those disgusting things helped cure your leg!” growled Yellowfang.
“Well, you should have used more,” retorted Cinderpaw, but Fireheart was relieved to see she had a mischievous glint in her eye. “Look at this!” She twitched her twisted hind leg. “I can hardly reach my claws to wash them.”
“Perhaps I should give you a few more exercises to loosen it up,” meowed Yellowfang.
“No, thanks!” mewed Cinderpaw quickly. “They hurt!”
“They’re meant to hurt! It shows they’re working.” The old medicine cat turned to Fireheart. “Perhaps you’ll have more luck persuading her to do them. I’m going into the forest to dig up some comfrey roots.”
“I’ll try,” Fireheart promised as Yellowfang padded past him.
“You’ll know if she’s doing them right,” the medicine cat called over her shoulder, “because she’ll complain!”
Cinderpaw limped over to Fireheart and touched her nose to his. “Thanks for coming to see me.” She sat down and grimaced as she tucked her bad leg under her.
“I like coming to see you,” Fireheart purred. “I miss our training sessions.” He regretted his words as soon as he’d uttered them.
A wistful look clouded Cinderpaw’s eyes. “Me too,” she meowed. “When do you think I’ll be able to start again?”
Fireheart stared at her, his heart sinking. Clearly Yellowfang hadn’t told her yet that she would never be a warrior. “Perhaps if we try some of your exercises, it’ll help,” he meowed evasively.
“Okay,” mewed Cinderpaw. “But just a few.”
She lay on her side and stretched out her leg till her face was twisted with pain. Slowly, her teeth clenched, she began to move it backward and forward.
“You’re doing really well,” Fireheart meowed, hiding the sorrow that lay like a rock in his stomach.
Cinderpaw let her leg drop and lay still for a moment; then she pushed herself up. Fireheart watched her quietly as she shook her head. “I’m never going to be a warrior, am I?”
Fireheart couldn’t lie to her. “No,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He stretched his muzzle toward her and licked her head. After a few moments, she gave a long sigh and lay down again.
“I knew it really,” she mewed. “It’s just that sometimes I dream about being in the forest, hunting with Brackenpaw, and then I wake up and the pain in my leg reminds me I’ll never hunt again. It feels too much to bear. I have to pretend that maybe, one day, I’ll be able to hunt.”
Fireheart couldn’t bear to see her in such low spirits. “I’ll take you out into the forest again,” he promised. “We’ll find the oldest, slowest mouse in the woods. It won’t stand a chance against you.”
Cinderpaw looked at him and purred gratefully.
Fireheart purred back at her, but there was a question that had been nagging at him since the accident. “Cinderpaw,” he began, “can you remember what happened when the monster hit you? Was Tigerclaw there?”
Cinderpaw’s eyes clouded with confusion. “I d-don’t know,” she stammered. Fireheart felt a pang of guilt as he saw her flinch away from the memory. “I went straight to the burned ash where Dustpaw said Tigerclaw would be, and then there was the monster and . . . I don’t really remember.”
“You wouldn’t have realized how thin the verge was there.” Fireheart shook his head slowly. “You must have run straight onto the Thunderpath.” Why wasn’t Tigerclaw where he said he’d be? he thought with a flash of rage. He could have stopped her from running out! Princess’s words rang ominously in his head. Was it a trap? He pictured Tigerclaw, crouching downwind, hidden among the trees, staring out at the verge, waiting—
“How’s Cloudkit?” Cinderpaw’s mew cut short his thoughts. She clearly wanted to change the subject.
Fireheart was happy to oblige, especially if it meant talking about Princess’s son. “Getting bigger every day,” he meowed proudly.
“I’m dying to meet him. When are you going to bring him to visit me?”
“As soon as Brindleface lets me,” Fireheart answered. “She won’t let him out of her sight at the moment.”
“She likes him, then?”
“She treats him just like her other kits,” Fireheart meowed, “thank StarClan. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if she’d take to him. He looks so different from her other kits.” Even Fireheart couldn’t deny that Cloudkit’s snowy pelt of soft fur looked out of place beside the other kits, with their forest-colored coats of short, mottled fur. “At least he gets on well with his nursery mates. . . .” Fireheart’s voice trailed away. He stared at the ground, feeling a twinge of anxiety.
“What’s the matter?” Cinderpaw prompted gently.
Fireheart shrugged. “I’m just sick of the way some of the other cats look at him, like he’s stupid or worthless.”
“Does Cloudkit notice these looks?”
Fireheart shook his head.
“Well, don’t worry then,” Cinderpaw mewed.
“But Cloudkit doesn’t even know he was born a kittypet. I think he just assumes he’s from a different Clan. But if they keep giving him these dirty looks, he’s going to realize there’s something wrong with him.” Fireheart looked at his paws fretfully.
“Something wrong with him?” echoed Cinderpaw in wonder. “You were born a kittypet and there’s nothing wrong with you! Look, by the time Cloudkit works out where he comes from, he’ll be able to start proving that a kittypet can be as good as any Clanborn warrior. Just like you’ve done.”
“What if someone tells him before he’s ready?”
“If he’s anything like you, he was born ready!”
“When did you get so smart?” Fireheart meowed, rather surprised by his apprentice’s sharpness.
Cinderpaw rolled onto her back with a dramatic moan. “Suffering can do that to a cat!” Fireheart prodded her stomach with a paw, and Cinderpaw squeaked before scrambling back onto her side. “No, really,” she mewed. “Look who I’ve been hanging out with lately!”
Fireheart tipped his head on one side questioningly.
“Yellowfang, you dope,” Cinderpaw scoffed. “She’s one sharp old cat. I’m learning a lot.” She sat up. “Yellowfang said there’s a Gathering tonight. Are you going?”
“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted. “I’m going to ask Bluestar later. I’m not exactly popular with the Clan at the moment.”
“They’ll get over it,” Cinderpaw promised. She nudged his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you go and find out if you’re going, then? They’ll be leaving soon.”
“You’re right,” Fireheart replied. “Will you be okay till Yellowfang gets back? Do you want me to fetch you some fresh-kill?”
“I’ll be fine,” Cinderpaw assured him. “And Yellowfang’ll bring me something. She always does. I’m going to be the fattest cat in the Clan by the time she’s finished with me.”
Fireheart felt a burst of happiness to see his former apprentice recovering her spirit. He was tempted to stay and keep her company, but she was right—he should find out if he could go to the Gathering. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he meowed. “There should be plenty of news from the Gathering.”
“Yeah, and I want to hear it all,” Cinderpaw mewed. “Make sure Bluestar lets you go! Quick!”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Fireheart retorted, getting to his paws. “’Bye, Cinderpaw.”
“’Bye!”
Fireheart stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked around for Bluestar. She was talking with Willowpelt outside her den. Fireheart reached them just as Willowpelt stood up to leave. The slender gray warrior nodded to Fireheart as she padded away.
Bluestar gazed at Fireheart with knowing eyes. “You want to go to the Gathering,” she meowed. Fireheart opened his mouth to speak, but Bluestar interrupted him. “All the warriors want to go tonight, but I can’t take every cat.”
Fireheart felt disappointed. “I wanted to see WindClan again,” he explained. “To find out how they’ve been getting on since Graystripe and I brought them home.”
Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need reminding of what you did for WindClan,” she meowed sharply, and Fireheart flinched. “But you’re right to be concerned,” Bluestar went on. “You and Graystripe may come to the Gathering tonight.”
“Thank you, Bluestar,” Fireheart meowed.
“It’ll be an interesting Gathering,” Bluestar warned him. “RiverClan and ShadowClan have much to explain.”
Fireheart felt his ears twitch nervously, but he couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement as well. Bluestar clearly meant to challenge Crookedstar and Nightstar about their invasions into ThunderClan territory. He dipped his head respectfully to Bluestar and padded away.
As he collected two voles for Brindleface from the pile of fresh-kill, Fireheart noticed Yellowfang trudging into the camp. Her paws were muddy and her mouth was crammed with fat, knobbly roots. Her search for comfrey had clearly been successful.
Fireheart carried the fresh-kill over to the nursery. Brindleface was curled up inside feeding Cloudkit. The other kits had recently given up their mother’s milk, and soon Cloudkit too would have his first taste of fresh-kill.
Brindleface looked up as he entered, her eyes shadowed with concern. “I’ve just sent for Yellowfang,” she mewed.
Fireheart was instantly alarmed. “Is there something wrong with Cloudkit?”
“He’s been a little feverish today.” Brindleface leaned down and licked the kit’s head as he stopped feeding and began squirming restlessly. “It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d see what Yellowfang thought. I . . . I don’t want to take any chances.”
Fireheart remembered that the dappled queen had recently lost a kit, and he hoped she was just being overcautious. But Cloudkit did look uncomfortable. “I’ll come and see you after the Gathering,” he promised.
He ducked out of the nursery and headed back to the pile of fresh-kill to pick out his own food. Brindleface’s news had spoiled his appetite, but he knew he should eat something before the journey to Fourtrees tonight.
Longtail and Dustpaw were already standing over the pile. Fireheart sat down and waited for them to leave.
“Haven’t seen the Cloudchick today,” meowed Longtail. Fireheart felt a familiar ripple of frustration at Longtail’s snide comment.
“He’s probably realized how silly he looks and decided to hide in the nursery!” mewed Dustpaw.
“I’d like to be there when he tries hunting for the first time. The prey’ll spot him coming a tree’s length away with all that white fluff,” Longtail sneered.
“Unless they mistake him for a puffball mushroom!” Dustpaw’s whiskers twitched as he threw a sideways glance at Fireheart.
Fireheart flattened his ears and looked away. He watched Yellowfang hurry into the nursery with a mouthful of feverfew. Unfortunately Longtail and Dustpaw noticed too. “Looks like the kittypet’s caught a chill. What a surprise,” meowed Longtail. “Goldenflower was right—he won’t last through leaf-bare!” The tabby warrior turned and stared at Fireheart, waiting for a reaction, but Fireheart ignored him and walked over to the pile of fresh-kill. He chose a thrush and carried it away to eat, feeling drained by the endless spite.
Graystripe was sharing his meal with Runningwind by the nettle clump. “Hi, did you have a good hunt?” Runningwind called as Fireheart passed.
“Yes, thanks,” Fireheart replied.
Graystripe didn’t look up.
“Bluestar said you could go to the Gathering,” Fireheart told Graystripe.
“I know,” Graystripe answered, still chewing.
“Are you going?” Fireheart turned to Runningwind.
“You bet! I wouldn’t miss this one for anything!”
Fireheart padded on and found a quiet spot at the edge of the clearing. Longtail’s words echoed in his head. Would the Clan ever accept the little white kit? Fireheart closed his eyes and began to wash himself.
As he turned to lick his side, his whiskers brushed against something. He opened his eyes to find Sandpaw standing beside him. Her orange pelt glowed silver beneath the rising moon. “Thought you might like some company,” she mewed. She sat down and began to wash Fireheart’s back with long, soothing strokes.
Through half-closed eyes, Fireheart caught a glimpse of Dustpaw staring from outside the apprentices’ den, unable to disguise his envy and amazement. Dustpaw wasn’t the only one surprised by Sandpaw’s gesture—Fireheart hadn’t expected such friendliness from the fiery young she-cat, but her warmth was welcome, and he wasn’t going to question it. “Are you going to the Gathering?” he asked.
Sandpaw paused. “Yes. You?”
“Yes. I think Bluestar’s going to challenge Crookedstar and Nightstar about their hunting.” He waited for Sandpaw to reply, but she was staring up at the darkening sky.
“I wish I were going as a warrior,” she murmured. Fireheart tensed, but for once there was no hint of jealousy or bitterness in her mew.
Fireheart felt awkward. He knew his training had started after Sandpaw’s, and he had been a warrior for more than two moons already. “It can’t be long till Bluestar gives you your warrior name,” he meowed, trying to sound encouraging.
“Why do you think it’s taking so long?” Sandpaw asked, turning her pale green eyes on Fireheart.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Bluestar’s been ill, and there’s RiverClan and ShadowClan causing trouble. I guess she’s got other things on her mind.”
“You’d think she’d need warriors more than ever!” meowed Sandpaw.
Fireheart felt a stab of sympathy. “I suppose she’s just waiting for the . . . the right time.” He knew it didn’t sound very helpful, but it was all he could think to say.
“Maybe by newleaf.” Sandpaw sighed. “When do you think you’ll get a new apprentice?”
“Bluestar hasn’t said anything yet.”
“Perhaps she’ll give you Cloudkit when he’s old enough.”
“I hope so.” Fireheart stared across the clearing at the nursery, wondering if Yellowfang had finished treating Cloudkit. “If he makes it that far.”
“Of course he’ll make it!” Sandpaw meowed confidently.
“But he has a fever.” Fireheart let his shoulders sag with worry.
“All kits get fevers!” Sandpaw retorted. “With his thick fur, he’ll recover in no time. That coat’s going to be handy in leaf-bare, perfect for hunting in the snow. The prey’ll never see him coming, and he’ll be able to stay out twice as long as thin-pelts like Longtail!”
Fireheart purred and felt himself relax. Sandpaw had lifted his spirits again. He stood up and gave her a brisk lick on the head. “Come on,” he meowed. “Bluestar is calling the cats for the Gathering.”
They joined the other cats beside the camp entrance, a silent, purposeful group.
Bluestar signaled to them with a flick of her tail, then led them through the gorse tunnel and out of the ravine. The forest glistened in the cold moonlight as they sprinted toward Fourtrees. Clouds of breath billowed from Fireheart’s muzzle, and the forest floor felt frozen beneath his paws.
For the first time since Fireheart had joined the Clan, Bluestar didn’t hesitate at the ridge above Fourtrees to prepare herself for the meeting. Instead her cats followed their leader wordlessly as she plunged straight down the slope into the clearing.