Yellowfang, Dustpaw, and Sandpaw rushed forward in a defensive row, and the queens lined up behind them. Fireheart saw Cinderpaw hobbling to join them, but Dustpaw spat angrily at the small gray cat as she neared, and Cinderpaw scrabbled clumsily away, ears flat, back into Yellowfang’s den.
The elders grabbed the kits, bundled them into the nursery, and squeezed inside after them. Brindleface picked up Cloudkit in her jaws and pushed him in last. She tugged at the brambles with her paws, ignoring the thorns, and covered the entrance before turning to join the rest of her Clan in the clearing.
Fireheart leaped down from the Highrock and raced to Yellowfang’s side. He arched his back and hissed at Brokenstar, “You lost the last time we fought, and you’ll lose again!”
“Never!” Brokenstar spat back. “You might have taken my Clan away from me, but you can’t kill me—I have more lives than you!”
“One ThunderClan life is worth ten of yours!” Fireheart growled. He gave a warrior’s yowl and the clearing exploded into battle.
Fireheart leaped straight for Brokenstar and grasped the dark brown tabby with his claws. Life as an outlaw had treated the former Clan leader harshly—Fireheart could feel the ribs of the flea-bitten tom beneath his fur. But Brokenstar was still strong. He twisted around and sank his teeth into Fireheart’s hind leg. Fireheart yowled and hissed with rage, but kept his grip. Brokenstar struggled forward, scrabbling with his paws on the frozen ground. Fireheart felt his claws raking along Brokenstar’s bony flanks as the rogue warrior ripped himself free. Fireheart lunged after him, but other claws were grasping at his hind leg. He looked over his shoulder to see who it was. Clawface crouched there, staring at Fireheart with narrowed, mocking eyes.
Fireheart looked back at him in disbelief. He had never expected to see this cat again. He forgot Brokenstar instantly. It was Clawface who had killed Spottedleaf six moons ago; he had murdered the ThunderClan medicine cat in cold blood so that Brokenstar could steal Frostfur’s kits. Rage roared in Fireheart’s ears. As he twisted around and threw himself on top of the scrawny brown tom, Fireheart glimpsed a flash of tortoiseshell fur out of the corner of his eye, and the sweet scent of Spottedleaf hit the roof of his mouth. He felt her spirit beside him. She had come to help him avenge her death.
Fireheart hardly noticed the pain in his leg as he tore it free from Clawface’s grasp and flew at him. The tom reared up and flailed his wide front paws. Thorn-sharp claws caught Fireheart behind his ear. Pain ripped through him like fire, and he staggered. Clawface was on him in an instant, pinning Fireheart to the ground and sinking his teeth into the back of his neck.
Fireheart screeched in agony, “Help me, Spottedleaf! I can’t do it!”
Suddenly the weight was wrenched off his back. Fireheart sprang to his paws and spun around. Graystripe! The gray warrior stood motionless, his eyes filled with horror. Clawface’s body hung limply from his jaws. Graystripe opened his mouth and Clawface fell to the ground, dead.
Fireheart took a step forward. “He killed Spottedleaf, Graystripe!” This was no time for remorse. “Is Bluestar with you?” he went on urgently.
Graystripe shook his head. “She sent me back to fetch Tigerclaw,” he replied. “We found bones. Bluestar recognized Brokenstar’s stench and guessed he must be leading the rogue cats.”
A hiss sounded nearby and two cats crashed into Fireheart. He leaped out of the way. It was Frostfur battling with another of the attacking cats. The queen was fighting with all the power of StarClan. These were the cats who had stolen her kits. Hate shone in her eyes as she struggled. Fireheart held himself back—Frostfur didn’t need his help. A moment later the rogue warrior was sent screeching away, through the bracken camp wall.
Frostfur chased after him, but Fireheart called her back. “You have given him enough wounds to remember you!” The queen skidded to a halt by the bracken wall and turned, her sides heaving and her white fur stained with her enemy’s blood.
Another rogue warrior screeched past Fireheart and headed for the camp wall. Dustpaw chased after him and managed to give the mottled tabby a fierce bite before he let him scrabble out of the camp. Only Brokenstar and one warrior left, Fireheart thought.
Sandpaw had the rogue warrior pinned to the ground. The tom was lying motionless beneath her. Watch out! thought Fireheart, remembering his favorite trick of letting an enemy think he had won. But Sandpaw was not deceived. When the tom leaped to his paws, she was ready. She sprang off him, and then lunged, grasping the warrior with her claws to flip him over and rake his belly with her hind legs. Only when he squealed like a kit did she let go of him. The rogue tore out of the camp entrance, still wailing.
There was an eerie moment of stillness. The ThunderClan cats stood in silence and stared at the blood and fur that was scattered around the clearing. In the middle lay Clawface’s body.
Where was Brokenstar? Fireheart spun around in alarm, scanning the camp. Could he have broken into the nursery? He was about to spring toward the bramble den when a wretched howl from Yellowfang’s den tore the air. Fireheart tore across to the fern tunnel. Cinderpaw! He raced into the den, expecting the worst, but saw instead Brokenstar lying in a heap on the ground. The old medicine cat stood over him.
Brokenstar’s eyes were closed and bloody. Fireheart saw his sides heave once, and stop moving. He recognized from the deep stillness in the rogue warrior’s body that Brokenstar was losing a life.
Yellowfang’s claws were unsheathed and glistened red. Her face was twisted and her eyes glazed.
Suddenly Brokenstar gasped and began to breathe again. Fireheart waited for Yellowfang to lunge at him with another killing bite, but she hesitated. Brokenstar didn’t get up.
Fireheart ran to the medicine cat’s side. “Is this his last life? Why don’t you finish him off?” he urged. “He murdered his father, banished you from your Clan, and tried to kill you.”
“It’s not his last life,” she rasped, “and even if it were, I couldn’t kill him.”
“Why not? StarClan would honor you for it.” Fireheart could not believe her words. The name Brokenstar had always made this old she-cat bristle with rage.
Yellowfang dragged her gaze from Brokenstar and looked at Fireheart. Her eyes clouded with pain and grief as she murmured, “He is my son.”
Fireheart felt the ground lurch under his paws. “But medicine cats are forbidden from having kits,” he blurted out.
“I know,” answered Yellowfang. “I never intended to have kits. But then I fell in love with Raggedstar.” Her voice was thick with sorrow. Suddenly Fireheart thought back to the battle when Brokenstar was driven out of the ShadowClan camp. Just before he fled, the cruel leader had told Yellowfang that he had murdered his father. Yellowfang had been devastated, and now Fireheart understood why.
“There were three kits in my litter,” Yellowfang went on. “But only Brokenstar survived. I gave him to a ShadowClan queen to bring up as her own. I thought that losing two of my kits was punishment from StarClan for breaking the warrior code. But I was wrong. My punishment wasn’t that two of my kits died. It was that this one survived!” Yellowfang looked in disgust at Brokenstar’s bleeding body. “And now I cannot kill him. I must accept my fate, as StarClan wishes it.”
Yellowfang staggered, and Fireheart thought she was going to collapse. He pressed his body against her flank to support her and whispered, “Does he know you’re his mother?”
Yellowfang shook her head.
Brokenstar began to wail pitifully. “I can’t see!” Fireheart realized with horror that the rogue cat’s eyes had been scratched beyond repair.
Fireheart cautiously approached him. Brokenstar lay still. Fireheart poked him with a forepaw and Yellowfang’s son moaned again. “Don’t kill me,” he whined. Fireheart backed away, feeling a shudder of revulsion at the warrior’s fear.
Yellowfang took a deep breath. “I will see to him.” She walked over to her wounded son, grasped him by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him to the nest that Patchpelt had left.
Fireheart let her go. He wanted to check that Cinderpaw was all right. He caught sight of a dark shape moving inside the split rock where Yellowfang slept. “Cinderpaw?” he called.
Cinderpaw poked her head out.
“Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.
“Have the rogue cats gone?” she whispered.
“Yes, except Brokenstar. He’s badly injured. Yellowfang’s seeing to him.” He waited for Cinderpaw’s shocked reaction, but she just shook her head slowly and stared at the ground.
“Are you okay?” Fireheart repeated.
“I should have fought alongside you.” Cinderpaw’s voice was choked with shame.
“You would have been killed!”
“That’s what Dustpaw said. He told me to go and hide with the kits.” The small cat’s eyes were full of despair. “But I wouldn’t have minded being killed. What good am I like this? I’m just a burden on this Clan.”
Fireheart felt a thorn-sharp pang of pity. He searched for words to comfort her, but before he could speak, Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded from the bracken.
“Cinderpaw,” she called. “Fetch me some cobwebs, quickly!” Cinderpaw turned at once and disappeared inside the rock, returning a moment later with one paw wrapped in a swathe of cobwebs. As quickly as she could, she scrambled awkwardly over to Yellowfang and thrust the cobwebs inside the nest.
“Now get me some of that comfrey root,” ordered Yellowfang.
As Cinderpaw limped back to the split rock, Fireheart turned to leave. There was nothing more he could do here. He must find out how the rest of the Clan was.
Hardly any cat had moved in the camp clearing. Fireheart padded straight to Dustpaw and meowed, “Yellowfang is tending to Brokenstar’s wounds. Cinderpaw’s helping her.” He ignored Dustpaw’s gasp of disbelief. “Go and guard him.” Dustpaw ran to the tunnel and disappeared inside.
Fireheart went over to Graystripe. The gray warrior was still staring at Clawface’s body. “You saved my life,” Fireheart murmured. “Thank you.”
Graystripe lifted his gaze to Fireheart. “I would give my life for you,” he answered simply.
Feeling choked, Fireheart watched his friend turn and walk away. Perhaps their friendship was not over after all.
The sound of paws pounding through the gorse tunnel broke into his thoughts. Bluestar came rushing into the camp, followed by Longtail and Swiftpaw. Fireheart felt his shoulders droop with relief at the sight of his Clan leader. She looked around at the blood-spattered clearing, her eyes wide, until her gaze rested on Clawface’s body. “Brokenstar attacked?” she meowed.
Fireheart nodded.
“Is he dead?”
“He’s with Yellowfang,” Fireheart answered, forcing out the words in spite of his exhaustion. “He’s been wounded—his eyes.”
“And the other rogue warriors?”
“We chased them off.”
“Are any of our Clan badly hurt?” Bluestar demanded, looking once more around the clearing. The cats shook their heads. “Good,” she meowed. “Sandpaw, Swiftpaw, take this body out of the camp and bury it. No elders need be present. No rogue deserves to be buried with the honor of StarClan ritual.”
Swiftpaw and Sandpaw began to drag Clawface toward the tunnel.
“Are the elders safe?” Bluestar asked.
“They’re in the nursery,” Fireheart told her. As he spoke a rustling sounded from the bramble den, and Halftail appeared, followed by the other kits and elders. Fireheart saw Cloudkit tumble out and scamper excitedly across the clearing to Brindleface. She greeted him with a brisk lick, and the kit turned to watch Clawface’s body as it disappeared away through the tunnel.
“Is he dead?” Cloudkit asked curiously. “Can I go and see?”
“Hush,” whispered Brindleface, tucking her tail around him.
“Where’s Tigerclaw?” Bluestar asked.
“He’s taken a party to attack a ShadowClan patrol,” Fireheart explained. “We found bones on our patrol. They smelled of ShadowClan so Tigerclaw decided to attack. I sent Brackenpaw to stop him when Yellowfang realized it was Brokenstar’s scent on them.”
“Brackenpaw?” meowed Bluestar, narrowing her eyes. “Even though he might have to cross the Thunderpath?”
“I was the only warrior left in camp. There was no one else I could send.”
Bluestar nodded, the concern in her eyes giving way to understanding. “You didn’t want to leave the camp unguarded?” she meowed. “You did well, Fireheart. I think Brokenstar hoped to lure all our warriors away from the camp. We found bones, too.”
“Graystripe told me.” Fireheart looked around for his friend, but Graystripe had disappeared.
“Send Yellowfang to me when she’s finished with Brokenstar,” Bluestar ordered. She pricked her ears at the noise of more paws in the gorse tunnel. Tigerclaw came racing into the camp, followed by Whitestorm and the rest of the raiding party. Fireheart craned his neck to peer around the warriors until he saw Brackenpaw, right at the back. The young apprentice looked exhausted but unhurt. Fireheart let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Did Brackenpaw reach you before you found a patrol?” asked Bluestar, walking over to her deputy.
“We hadn’t even entered their territory,” Tigerclaw answered. “We were just about to cross the Thunderpath.” His eyes narrowed. “Was that Clawface they were burying?”
Bluestar nodded.
“Then Brackenpaw was right,” meowed the deputy. “Brokenstar was planning to attack the camp. Is he dead too?”
“No. Yellowfang is tending to his wounds.”
“Surely not!” Mousefur exclaimed, exchanging a glance with Runningwind beside her.
Tigerclaw’s face darkened. “Tending to his wounds?” he snarled. “We should kill him, not waste time making him better!”
“We’ll discuss that once I’ve spoken to Yellowfang,” meowed Bluestar calmly.
“You can discuss it with me now, Bluestar.” Yellowfang padded into the clearing, her head drooping with exhaustion.
“Have you left Brokenstar alone?” growled Tigerclaw, his amber eyes flashing.
Yellowfang raised her head and looked at the dark warrior. “Dustpaw is guarding him. And I’ve given him poppy seeds, so he’ll sleep for a while. Brokenstar is blind now, Tigerclaw. There’s no way he’ll try to escape. He’d die of hunger in a week, if a fox or a gang of crows didn’t kill him first.”
“Well, that makes it easier,” Tigerclaw snarled. “We won’t have to kill him ourselves. We can let the forest deal with him.”
Yellowfang turned to Bluestar. “We cannot let him die,” she meowed.
“Why not?”
Fireheart held his breath as he watched the leader’s eyes flick from Yellowfang to Tigerclaw and back again. He wondered if Yellowfang was going to tell Bluestar that Brokenstar was her son.
“If we did, we would be no better than he is,” replied Yellowfang calmly.
Tigerclaw’s tail flicked in anger.
“What do you think, Whitestorm?” Bluestar meowed before Tigerclaw could speak.
“It will be a burden on our Clan to look after him,” Whitestorm answered thoughtfully. “But Yellowfang is right—if we send him out into the forest, or kill him in cold blood, StarClan will know we have stooped as low as he.”
One-eye stepped forward. “Bluestar,” she meowed in her croaky old voice. “In the past we have sometimes kept prisoners for many moons. We could do it again.” Fireheart remembered that Yellowfang herself had been a prisoner when she first came to the camp. He waited for the medicine cat to remind Bluestar of this, but she said nothing.
“So you would really consider keeping this rogue inside our camp?” Tigerclaw’s eyes blazed with rage as he challenged his leader. With a pang, Fireheart couldn’t help agreeing with the dark warrior’s words. The thought of killing Brokenstar appalled him—he knew better than any of these cats what that would mean to Yellowfang—but Brokenstar was a fearsome enemy, even without his sight. Keeping him in the camp would be difficult and dangerous for all the members of the Clan.
“Is he really blind?” Bluestar asked Yellowfang.
“Yes, he is.”
“Has he other wounds?”
Fireheart replied this time. “I clawed him pretty badly,” he admitted. He looked over to Yellowfang and was relieved when the old she-cat dipped her head just enough for him to know she forgave him for wounding her son.
“How long till they heal?” asked Bluestar.
“About a moon,” Yellowfang answered.
“Then you may nurse him till then. After that we will discuss his future again. And from now on, he will be known as Brokentail, not Brokenstar. We cannot take away the lives that StarClan gave him, but this cat is no longer a Clan leader.” Bluestar looked questioningly at Tigerclaw. His tail twitched, but he didn’t speak.
“It is decided,” Bluestar meowed. “He stays.”