Tallstar spoke up, a dim silhouette on top of the Great Rock. “This Gathering is over, by the will of StarClan.” The crowd murmured in agreement. The air was thick with the scents of fear and hostility.
“Come, ThunderClan.” Fireheart could barely see Bluestar as she leaped down from the Great Rock and headed for the edge of the clearing. He pushed his way through the other cats and hurried after her. He saw the massive outline of Tigerclaw as the deputy fell in step beside his leader, and the pale gray shapes of the other ThunderClan cats as they gathered behind the two great warriors. No cat spoke as they trekked solemnly up the slope toward home. Fireheart glanced over his shoulder. The other Clans were withdrawing too. By the time he reached the top of the slope, Fourtrees was deserted.
The Clan ran silently through the forest, following the familiar scent-lined trail. Fireheart spotted Graystripe at the back and he slowed his pace. Maybe Graystripe would be more prepared to talk about Silverstream, now that it was clear how tense things were between the Clans. His scent had been detected in RiverClan territory! Graystripe was putting himself and the Clan in danger with his secret meetings.
Fireheart searched for the right words but Graystripe hissed first, “I know what you’re going to say. And I won’t stop seeing her!”
“You’re a mouse-brained fool!” Fireheart spat back. “They’ll soon work out it’s you. Bluestar will guess, or some cat from RiverClan’ll recognize your scent. Tigerclaw’s probably guessed already!”
Graystripe shot Fireheart an anxious glance. “Do you really think so?”
“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted, relieved to hear a note of fear in Graystripe’s voice. Graystripe had been acting as if he had no idea what might happen if the Clan found out about his affair. “But once he starts thinking about it . . .”
“Okay, okay!” spat Graystripe. He was silent for a moment. “What if I promise we’ll meet only at Fourtrees? That way our scent will be hard to detect, and I won’t have to go into RiverClan territory. Will you leave me alone then?”
Fireheart felt his heart sink. Graystripe was not going to give up Silverstream that easily. Then he nodded. This had to be better than creeping into hostile Clan territory to see her.
“Satisfied?” Graystripe’s eyes flashed in the gloom, but his voice sounded shaky. Fireheart felt a pang of regret for their lost friendship, and a rush of sympathy for the gray warrior. He stretched his head forward to nuzzle Graystripe’s flank, but Graystripe ran on ahead, leaving Fireheart alone at the back of the group.
Even though the cats were tired from the journey, Bluestar called a meeting as soon as they were home. Most of the Clan was still awake anyway. The Gathering had been shorter than usual, and the sudden cloud cover had alarmed even the cats left in the camp.
While Bluestar and Tigerclaw settled themselves on the Highrock, Fireheart hurried over to the nursery. He wanted to know how Cloudkit was. He poked his head through the entrance. It was pitch black and warm inside.
“Hello, Fireheart,” Brindleface whispered, a faint shadow shifting in the gloom. “Cloudkit’s much better. Yellowfang gave him feverfew. It was just a chill.” The queen sounded relieved. “What happened at the Gathering?”
“StarClan sent clouds to cover the moon. Bluestar’s called a meeting. Can you come?”
Fireheart listened to Brindleface sniffing her kits. “Yes, I think I can,” she answered finally. “My kits will sleep for a while.”
Fireheart withdrew his head, and together they joined the cats gathered in the clearing. Fireheart felt fur brush against him, and Cinderpaw glanced up at him with wide, worried eyes.
Bluestar had already begun. “The greatest threat seems to be from RiverClan and ShadowClan. We must be prepared for the possibility that these two Clans have united against us.”
Shocked meows rippled through the Clan.
“Do you really think they’ve joined together?” Yellowfang rasped. “RiverClan has the best sources of prey, but I can’t imagine they’d want to share with ShadowClan.” Fireheart remembered Silverstream’s words about RiverClan’s hunger after the Twoleg invasion, but he held his tongue, fearful that Bluestar would want to know where he’d heard such a story.
“They didn’t deny it,” Tigerclaw pointed out.
Bluestar nodded. “Whatever the truth, we must be on full alert. From tonight, each patrol will have four cats, at least three of them warriors. The patrols will be more frequent, two each night, and one during the day, as well as the dawn and dusk patrols. We must put a stop to RiverClan’s and ShadowClan’s raids on our territory, and since they have chosen to ignore our words, we must be prepared to fight.”
The Clan yowled their agreement. Fireheart joined in even though he was worried about what this open hostility might mean for Graystripe. He looked around at the other cats. He could see all their eyes shining—except Graystripe’s. The gray warrior sat with his head bowed in the shadows at the edge of the clearing.
When the noise died away, Bluestar spoke again. “The first patrol will leave before dawn.” She jumped down from the Highrock. Tigerclaw followed, and the rest of the Clan broke up into small groups. Fireheart could hear them murmuring nervously as he padded to the warriors’ den.
Fireheart settled into his nest, kneading the moss with his paws to make it comfortable. An owl hooted at the top of the ravine. He knew he would not sleep yet. His mind was racing with the accusations that had flown around the Gathering. He understood RiverClan’s anger. They had picked up the scent of ThunderClan cats in their territory, and they were hungry now that their prey had been depleted by the Twoleg invasion.
But what about ShadowClan? It was smaller since ThunderClan had helped them to chase out their tyrannical former leader and his band of followers. Brokenstar had even admitted to killing Raggedstar, his own father, to become Clan leader. But the Clan had been left in peace to recover from Brokenstar’s bloody rule. And Fireheart couldn’t help thinking that, with fewer mouths to feed, ShadowClan had no need to raid ThunderClan’s hunting grounds, or anyone else’s.
As he puzzled over these thoughts, Whitestorm and Darkstripe pushed their way into the den. Before Whitestorm went to his nest, he stopped beside Fireheart. “You’re to join me with Sandpaw and Mousefur on patrol at sunhigh,” he meowed.
“Yes, Whitestorm,” Fireheart answered before resting his chin on his paws. He had to get some sleep—his Clan needed him to be fit and ready to fight.
The clouds that had covered the moon had rolled away by the next morning. Fireheart enjoyed the faint warmth of the sun on his back as he washed himself in the clearing. Cloudkit jumped out of the nursery entrance opposite him, looking bright and happy.
Fireheart thanked StarClan that he had recovered so quickly. Sandpaw had been right about the kit’s resilience. He looked around to see if Longtail and Dustpaw were there to see it too, but the clearing was empty.
Fireheart crossed over to the nursery. “Hi, Cloudkit,” he meowed. “Feeling better?”
“Yep,” squeaked Cloudkit. He spun around in a circle, grasping for his tail with his tiny jaws. A small ball of moss that had been sticking to his fur fell off and rolled along the ground. Cloudkit leaped on it and pawed it into the air. It bounced onto the ground beside Fireheart.
Fireheart knocked it back toward the kit, and Cloudkit sprang up to catch it in his teeth.
“Well done!” Fireheart was impressed. With one paw he scooped the moss ball high into the air, sending it flying across the clearing.
Cloudkit raced after the moss and grabbed it. He rolled onto his back, threw the ball up with his forepaws, and kicked it away with his hind legs. It landed next to the nursery. Cloudkit scrambled up and scooted after it. He crouched a rabbit leap away, his hindquarters bunched in the air.
Fireheart watched as the kit prepared to pounce. Suddenly his fur prickled. A long, dark foreleg was reaching toward the moss ball from behind the nursery.
“Cloudkit,” Fireheart called, “wait!” Shadowy images of rogue cats were still fresh in his mind.
Cloudkit sat up and looked around at him, puzzled.
Tigerclaw emerged from behind the kitten, holding the moss ball between his teeth. He carried the ball over to the kit and dropped it by Cloudkit’s fluffy white paws. “Be careful,” he growled. “You wouldn’t want to lose such a precious plaything.” As he spoke, the dark warrior stared at Fireheart over Cloudkit’s head.
Fireheart shivered. What did Tigerclaw mean by that? He seemed to be talking about the moss ball—but did he really mean that Cloudkit was a plaything? An image of Cinderpaw flashed into Fireheart’s mind, a wounded huddle beside the Thunderpath. Was that another plaything he had lost? A cold feeling of dread seeped into his heart as once more he wondered if the ThunderClan deputy was somehow responsible for his apprentice’s accident.