#talonslock story

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 52

Chapter 51 || Index || Chapter 53

Fireheart sat beneath the Highrock, sharing a pigeon with Bluestar as the rest of the Clan shared tongues. The camp was even more excited than usual: Goldenflower had sent for Dewshine and Yellowfang just before sunhigh, because Frostfur had begun kitting. The camp was full of speculation - how many kits there would be, what they’d look like, even what their names might be. The only cats absent from camp were Peppermask and Princess - they’d taken the kits out to a nearby meadow to play so they wouldn’t interrupt the healers working or irritate Frostfur (who even Goldenflower had admitted was ‘a bit snappish at the moment’). 

“Are you excited?” Fireheart prompted Bluestar after a long silence. She glanced up at him for a moment, chewing on the pigeon thoughtfully. Then she nodded and sat up.

“Of course. New kittens are always welcome in the Clan.” She purred, blinking happily in the direction of the nursery. “I know Whitestorm and Lionheart will be good parents for them. I thought, after Whitestorm…”

She trailed off for a moment, a worried look in her eyes. “After Whitestorm?” Fireheart prompted, but she didn’t respond. He recognized that look: the same one she often had when speaking about Snowstorm, or her kits. It was her being haunted by the family she had lost; and, as he thought about it, he realized he was fairly certain what she was thinking of. “Are you talking about the leafbare before I joined? He told me that he’d almost died from greencough.”

Bluestar sighed deeply and nodded in response. “Yes. Spottedleaf told me to prepare his vigil, for he would only recover from the grace of Starclan. Through Starclan’s grace, he did recover, although…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but Fireheart could guess at the ending - although many didn’t. “You know how lonely it is in the Clan without any family, Fireheart. It wasn’t so long ago that I faced the same. It’s hard to let go of the past, sometimes.”

Fireheart wasn’t sure he fully understood, but he dipped his head to her nonetheless. “But now he’s having kits. Surely that’s reason enough to move on?”

“Yes.” Bluestar agreed readily to her deputy, a smile flickering over her lips. “Yes, it is. I know he has always wanted kits of his own. And now they are here, and I hope they are everything he imagined them to be and more.” Pain still showed in her eyes - remembering her own kits, perhaps, or still lingering on how she’d almost lost her nephew - but she turned to Fireheart with perked ears, ignoring her feelings. “Your own nephews and nieces are quite lovely. Little Cloudkit especially - I’ve never felt kitten teeth so sharp!”

Fireheart purred at the compliment from his leader, remembering how Sootkit and Rainkit had knocked her over. “Yes, I’m glad they’re here in Thunderclan. I can’t wait to see their apprentice ceremonies - though they can hardly wait either!” He glanced fondly at the camp entrance, imagining them romping around in a field of flowers with reckless abandon. “They’re all so excited to have new playmates, though they don’t seem to fully understand how small newborns are.”

“It’s a hard thing for a kit to comprehend.” Bluestar mewed in understanding. “For much of their life, they’re the smallest cats around! It’s hard to imagine anything being smaller.” She sighed and wistfully looked off at the nursery, clearly remembering some time long past. “I didn’t get to see a newborn kit until Robinwing had her litter, when I was already a warrior. I was shocked to see a cat small enough to fit in my paws!”

Fireheart nodded, remembering how small Lynxkit had been. She was essentially the same size as Sootkit and Rainkit now, with Sorrelkit having become the new runt. The thought of her becoming even the three moon old kit she was now amazed him. “I know what you mean. They’re basically the size of a mou-”

“FIREHEART!”

The deputy sat up with a bolt of panic as he heard his name howled loud enough to be heard from Fourtrees. Princess had just clawed her way through the bramble entrance, racing towards him with terrified puffed fur. “Fireheart, Cloudkit’s gone missing!” She cried, her green eyes already full of tears.

For a moment, Fireheart felt frozen with fear. Cloudkit had gone missing? “What happened?” He finally managed to stammer out, feeling the heat of the entire Clan watching him as he swallowed hard.

“I- I don’t-” She took a huge gulping breath, her whole body trembling as she looked up at her brother. “They were chasing this - this butterfly, in the flowers. It was bright, I didn’t see anyone, everything was okay. Peppermask and I smiled at each other - it was just a couple of heartbeats! We were just - we were happy, everything was nice, and-” Princess’ white paws were kneading in and out of the dirt below her in an attempt to calm herself. “I swear, Fireheart, he just vanished!”

“Calm down.” Fireheart was grateful to hear Bluestar speak up beside him. “What about the other kits and Peppermask? Are they okay?”

Princess stared at the leader as though she had suddenly turned purple. “I- I don’t-” She took another deep shuddering breath, clearly on the verge of hyperventilating. “Peppermask told me to come tell you, Fireheart. She said she’d tell them a story to keep them calm and in one place.”

Why in Starclan’s name would Peppermask tell Princess to do that? The thought echoed in his mind for too long, as Bluestar and Princess both stared at him. What did they want from him? He didn’t know how to find a kit! He was just-

Right, he was deputy. He was supposed to take care of this. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what Quickflash would do in this situation. Maybe he could order a patrol? He hesitated at the thought. Was that an abuse of his power, though? After all, it was one kit - maybe he should just go and help her find Cloudkit. What would the Clan think if they had to search all over the forest for a kittypet kit?

No, he thought to himself after a heartbeat, that was a flea-brained thought. Kits were the most important part of the Clan! The warrior code itself said that no kit could be neglected, no matter their origin. Whether Cloudkit’s parents were kittypet or not didn’t matter. The Clan would expect to be sent out to find a lost kit. Their territory was safe, generally, but there was always a chance that something had snuck past one of their borders. Not to mention the owl, or hawks, any of which could pick off an unsuspecting kit.

“Speckleflight.” Fireheart stepped forward and spoke now, still keenly aware that nearly all of the Clan’s eyes were on him. The elder blinked at him in surprise. “Take Rosetail and go with Princess to help Peppermask keep the other kits calm. The last thing we need is two missing kits.”

The pale golden queen nodded, glancing around to see Rosetail already standing up. Fireheart watched as Speckleflight came up alongside Princess, mewing something softly to her as the two older tortoiseshells led her out of camp. The older queens, he figured, would be able to help calm Princess in addition to telling the kits all sorts of fun stories for however long it took to find Cloudkit.

He surveyed camp, assessing which cats were best to go out looking for a kit. “We’ll form three patrols, each taking a different direction from the meadow. I want Cloudkit found as quickly and quietly as possible.” There was no dissent at his order, cats beginning to sit up and wait to be called. “Mousefur, you’ll take Mistspring and Dustleap and head towards the Riverclan border. Sandstorm, you’ll take Willowbranch and Graystripe towards the Shadowclan border. Dappleshine, you and Tinyfrost will be with me heading towards Tallpines. Longtail, Cinderspark, Bluestar, and the apprentices will stay behind and guard camp.”

Across camp, Cinderspark turned away, her tail low in disappointment. Fireheart understood why she was disappointed that she hadn’t been picked - likely wondering if he hadn’t chosen her because once again, he didn’t trust her. He briefly wished he could reassure her, to tell her that she had been given the most important mission of all. He doubted that this was a ploy to get the Clan out of camp, but he couldn’t help but remember what had happened the last time kits had gone missing. Brokentail was dead, but his rogues were still out there - and now, more than ever, they were probably seeking revenge against Thunderclan.

Fireheart wanted this to be nothing more than Cloudkit accidentally running off, but he had to prepare for the worst.

“Let’s go!” He barked, lashing his tail once for the warriors to follow him before turning and leaving camp. He didn’t need to look to know they were following him - he could hear the march of many pawsteps and the rustling of brambles through the tunnel behind him. Fireheart instead kept his eyes on the trail again - following the thick fear-scent of his sister, which he had to focus on to keep from overwhelming him.

The meadow wasn’t far from camp - about as far away as the training hollow was, but on the other side of the ravine. There, Speckleflight was cooing softly at his niblings sitting amongst pale blue flowers, likely telling them a story about times long ago. Rosetail was sitting off to the side, doing her best to console Princess and Peppermask alike. The kits were occasionally glancing at their mama, clearly picking up on her fear, but politely listening to Speckleflight nonetheless.

He could see all four of them look eagerly towards him as the three patrols entered the meadow, but he had no time to stop and reassure them. He had to trust that the elders, Princess, and Peppermask would be enough eyes on his remaining niblings to keep them safe. Instead, with a swift nod shared between the patrols, they all turned and raced off towards their assigned directions.

“Dappleshine, you should take the lead. You’re the best hunter out of all of us.” Fireheart mewed, slowing down slightly to allow the tortoiseshell to do just that. There was no time for bragging, or for modesty: while Tinyfrost and Fireheart were both good hunters, it was well known within the Clan that Dappleshine had the sharpest nose and had taught two of the other great hunters in the Clan. 

She slipped forward without complaint at the opening, keeping her nose raised as she drew air over her tongue to try and find a scent. Silently, Fireheart motioned for Tinyfrost to flank her on her other side, the three spreading out so that they could cover as much ground as possible without losing sight of each other in the forest undergrowth.

The ginger deputy tried to keep himself calm, taking deep breaths of the scents of the wild to keep his heart from racing. As scared as he was for his nephew, out in the forest on his own, allowing his fear to overtake him would only smother the other warriors’ attempts to scent out Cloudkit. 

The forest was full of dangers - even things that would only bother a fully grown warrior could be deadly for a young kit. What if Cloudkit fell into a hole and couldn’t get back out? If he strayed out towards the Twolegplace, he would run into dogs - even the smallest of which would be impossible for a kit to handle on his own. And if he went towards the Owltree, and the owl was in the mood for a midday snack-

No, Fireheart couldn’t allow himself to imagine such horrors, forcing himself to take another couple of deep breaths as he continued flanking Dappleshine. For all he knew, one of the other patrols had found his nephew already. Maybe Cloudkit was already safe and sound, listening to Speckleflight tell a mighty tale about Lynxstar of Leopardclan and how she had driven out the fearsome Stonescales from the river. He could have even found his way back to the meadow on his own, having gotten bored of playing with himself.

There was no reason to-

“I smell him!” Fireheart’s ears perked forward as he heard Dappleshine’s call. Immediately, the other two warriors converged on her, finding her sniffing at a fallen log. “He climbed on top of this.” She explained as they both scented at the bark. Fireheart didn’t know whether to be thankful they had finally caught a trail, or furious that his nephew had gone so far into the forest on his own. They were almost at Tallpines! What had Cloudkit been thinking? 

“Fireheart.” The deputy looked up at the sound of his old mentor’s quiet voice, seeing Tinyfrost sniffing at the air rather than the log. “Do you smell that?”

Both Fireheart and Dappleshine scented at the air, trying to discern what Tinyfrost was hinting at. It took Fireheart several heartbeats, but as soon as he did, his face wrinkled in disgust. “That’s the foulest smelling dog I’ve ever scented.” He growled disdainfully, before fear seized his heart. It was a recent scent. “You don’t think-”

“It’s not dog. It’s badger.” Dappleshine snarled out, pacing forward as her hackles began to rise. “That’s close. Somewhere in our territory, I think.”

Fireheart didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen a badger before - only heard tales about them swapped between the warriors. They were huge, lumbering beasts, big enough that a cat the size of Lionheart could ride on their backs, with claws as long as whiskers. Mistspring had mentioned driving one off once, in a combined effort between Windclan and Thunderclan. Three warriors couldn’t be enough to chase one out of their territory!

But Cloudkit was nearby. They couldn’t leave, not without finding his nephew. What if the badger found him? He was a white kit, after all, standing out amongst the greens and browns of the forest. He hadn’t had any battle training - he’d be easy prey -

The two other warriors were staring at him. Once again, Fireheart could feel bile rising in his throat. He was deputy - he had to make a decision. But what if Cloudkit died because of him? How could he go back to Princess and tell her that her kit could have lived, if he’d just made the right-

“We find the badger first.” Tinyfrost cut through his thoughts with the same quiet, icy tone he always had. “If the kit’s smart, he’ll have scented it and climbed a tree to wait for us. If he’s not, then we better get to it before it gets to him.” With that ominous note, Tinyfrost turned and began leading the way through the forest, towards the edge of Tallpines. 

There was no need to taste the air now - the badger’s scent was thick and musty, like the marshes of Shadowclan had been when Fireheart had gone with Graystripe to defeat Brokentail and his rogues. It took everything in him not to completely block out the pungent odor - and he could tell that the other two warriors with him were feeling just the same.

“Help me!”

The voice was faint, but all three cats knew exactly who it was as it floated through the trees. As one, the three bounded forward, racing through the forest towards Cloudkit’s desperate cries. “Somebody! Help! Don’t let it get me!” They got louder and louder, until-

The three burst through the foliage into a large stony clearing sparsely covered by dry tufts of grass. On the far end was a small cliff, where a huge gray figure was swiping furiously at a crack in the bottom. Though he couldn’t see inside, Fireheart already knew what the badger was swiping at- Cloudkit.

“Tinyfrost, take its back! I’ll distract it from the front. Dappleshine, get Cloudkit out when it’s safe!” Fireheart was already barking out the orders as he dived forward, yowling a bitter battle cry as he lashed out at one of the badger’s front paws. It immediately turned towards him with baleful, beady eyes, returning his battle cry with a furious screech that rang through the air. Fireheart ducked as it swiped a large, clumsy paw at him, its claws easily thrice the length of his own. Fear and determination surged through his veins in equal measure; fear that this fight would be his last, and determination not to let it get to Cloudkit at any cost.

He swiped at its disgustingly large muzzle, his claws scoring through the coarse black and white fur with surprising ease. The badger was large, yes, but slow; slower than Tigerclaw had been, even. It let out another shrill scream as blood welled up from where his claws had been, lunging towards him with its massive bulk.

Fireheart took three quick steps back, luring the beast away from his nibling. It pounced towards him again, claws scoring into the earth once more as he took another pair of quick back steps. Before he could move further, however, a black shadow materialized on top of the badger: heartbeats later, it howled in furious pain as Tinyfrost dug into its thick gray fur with his claws and began biting for whatever he could reach.

The badger reared back, clearly intending to force its new attacker off, but before it could Fireheart had leaped forward to his former mentor’s aid, claws tearing away the tawny fur of its underbelly. He ducked back as the badger slashed wildly out with its giant claws, screeching furiously as it realized it was outnumbered.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Dappleshine race by with a distinctly white blur, and he immediately felt a wave of relief. Cloudkit was safe, which meant-

Fireheart yowled in shock as pain streaked through one side. He’d let himself be distracted for mere heartbeats - but heartbeats were long enough for the brutish creature, lunging forward to tear into his shoulder with its fangs. His first instinct was to tear away from it, but he forced himself to instead lean into the bite and use the opportunity to rake his claws down its neck. The badger immediately released him, shaking both one way and then the other as attacks came in from what surely felt like all sides.

Even as the pain filled his thoughts, Fireheart forced himself not to dwell on it, instead focusing on the beast in front of him. It was lashing out blindly now, clearly trying to get all the attacks to stop. “Tinyfrost! Let it go!” He called out to the small black tom.

Tinyfrost complied, sinking his fangs into its ear one last time before loosening his claws and letting the badger’s momentum throw him off to one side. It flailed out for another couple of heartbeats as the two warriors regrouped together, its tiny eyes flashing with panic as the attacks stopped as quickly as they had come. 

“Get out!” Tinyfrost snarled, advancing on the creature with his claws prepared for more attacks. Fireheart quickly copied him, advancing on the badger with his fur puffed out as far as he could get it. As soon as they did, the badger turned quickly away from them towards the open forest beyond Tallpines. As soon as it saw a clear opening, it bolted, bounding away on its stubby legs into the woods beyond their border.

The two toms stood side by side as they watched it race off, their hearts still pounding from the thrill of the fight. Fireheart’s side began to sting, a sign that he would surely be visiting the healers shortly, but he once again pushed it away to turn and look for his nibling. “Dappleshine? Cloudkit? Are you alright?” He called softly, a tiny bolt of anxiety spiking through him. They had to be safe, right? There was no way they could have gotten hurt while he was fighting-

He sighed in relief as Dappleshine waddled into the clearing, carrying Cloudkit by his scruff. He was a bit too big for it now, dragging in the dirt between her legs, but the older queen didn’t seem to notice as she came to stand in front of Fireheart and Tinyfrost. She released his nephew gracelessly, and he fell into the dirt below with a thin wail.

“What in Starclan’s name were you doing out here?” Fireheart snarled at the little white kit, his tail lashing in anger now that the danger had passed. “You’ve got your mother worried sick, and the whole Clan tearing up the forest looking for you! Didn’t your mother tell you not to wander off?”

There was genuine fear in Cloudkit’s bold blue eyes, but as Fireheart lectured him he could see that same stubborn defiance that his nephew normally had beginning to leak back in. “I didn’t wander off.” He refuted, his chin sticking up into the air as he stared down his uncle.

“Didn’t wander off?” Fireheart scoffed, his anger only rising at his nephew’s audacity. “This hardly looks like the meadow where you’re supposed to be playing with your siblings, does it? Not to mention you’re only treelengths from the border, with no other cat to be seen, hiding from a badger - how exactly do you expect me to believe you didn’t wander off?”

“I didn’t!” Cloudkit repeated, stomping one tiny white paw. “I followed a warrior out here!”

Fireheart could hear noises of confusion from the other two cats, but he didn’t stop to let it bother him. “And how, exactly, did you follow a warrior out here when all of them were back in camp?” He spat, lashing his tail once more in emphasis. “Which warrior was this? Graystripe? Mistspring? Maybe Lionheart?”

Cloudkit looked confused at all the names. “I- I don’t- he didn’t say what his name was.” He mewed plaintively, his eyebrows furrowing as if in brief confusion. “But he said he had found something super cool to show me, so I followed him, but then he was gone and I got lost and then- then that thing-”

“And I suppose you expect me to believe this imaginary warrior grew wings and flew, right in front of your eyes.” Fireheart snapped, losing any patience he might have had left for his nephew. “Making up some warrior that doesn’t exist isn’t going to get you out of trouble, Cloudkit. But I’ll let your mother decide your punishment.”

Cloudkit immediately started complaining, furiously reasserting that he definitely had seen a real warrior that smelled of Thunderclan and everything, but Fireheart tuned him out and turned to the other two warriors. “Dappleshine, why don’t you go find Sandstorm’s patrol near the Riverclan border and let them know we’ve found him. Tinyfrost, you do the same for Mousefur’s patrol near Shadowclan. I’ll take this little troublemaker back to his mother.”

The two warriors looked slightly dubious at his orders, but if they had any doubts they didn’t voice them, instead turning away and racing off towards their respective areas. Fireheart advanced on Cloudkit, who could only stumble back a couple of steps before he was unceremoniously scruffed by his uncle. With a bitter scowl, still trying to ignore the pain of the badger bite in his side, Fireheart began carrying his nephew back to Princess and to safety. Leave it to Cloudkit to ruin an otherwise happy day, he grumbled to himself, satisfying his anger at his nephew by imagining all the punishments that he would suffer for this as the two made their way back to camp.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 48

Chapter 47 || Index || Chapter 49

The training hollow was dark, the dying rays of the setting sun unable to penetrate through the foliage that obscured the sandy clearing from the sky above. Dusk training was rare, as the time was usually reserved for sharing tongues as the Clan returned to camp from their myriad duties. That meant that there was no one but Fireheart to observe the secret training occurring beneath the Clan’s nose.

Cinderspark and Snowkit circled each other, their blue gazes trained on one another as they waited for an opening. In a flash they were at each other, scattering sand as they struck each other with skilled precision. No longer was the young white tom a clumsy kit; now his balance was near perfect, making it difficult for Cinderspark to find a weakness in his defense. 

The young deputy watched, his eyes appraising the two fighter’s skill as they traded each blow. The dark gray molly lashed out at her opponent’s throat with a sheathed paw, but the white tom saw it coming and easily sidestepped out of the way, responding with a strike that went whistling over her ears. The warrior took the opportunity to rush forward, slamming into the young tom’s chest and sending him flailing backwards into the sand.

“Well done! That was close.” Fireheart called from where he sat at the edge of the clearing, his ears perked forward as he did his best to translate his words into what Cinderspark had taken to calling silent-speak. He felt clumsy, especially compared to the fluid grace with which the other warrior used it, but he knew that he would only get better with time.

The dark gray warrior whirled around, her ears pinned back as she glared at the ginger tom sitting across the clearing. “This is fleabrained!” She hissed, her tail lashing as she advanced on him.

He blinked in shock at her words, surprised to hear such anger from the young molly. “What do you mean? You did well!” He replied, unsure what had suddenly upset her.

“So did he, and that’s the problem!” The newest warrior spat, her scruff bristling. “You can see just as well as I can that he can fight just as well as a warrior, so why is he stuck here practicing with me? He should be practicing with the other apprentices - with a real warrior!”

Though her words had clarified her meaning, he still tilted his head in confusion. “You are a real warrior, Cinderspark. You earned your warrior name.” He replied, abandoning his attempts at silent-speak now. He had the feeling this wasn’t a conversation that Cinderspark wanted Snowkit to hear.

She tossed her head with a dismissive snort. “You know what I mean. He should have a mentor, not someone like me teaching him. He deserves to be an apprentice.”

Fireheart wilted slightly. She was right, of course - he’d seen how Snowkit was improving under Cinderspark’s tutelage. He was just as good as any other apprentice at sparring now, and while he hadn’t seen the white tom hunt, he was sure that with training he would be able to perform just as well as Cherrypaw or Brightpaw. It wasn’t fair that he was forced to be an elder when he was so young - when he had so much life left in him.

“Be that as it may, Cinderspark, what can we do about it? Bluestar’s made up her mind.” He took care not to mention the leader’s state - though she was doing better, she was still so fragile. Even if she did change her mind - which she didn’t seem eager to do - getting her to do a ceremony right now seemed like too much.

“You’re her deputy, for Starclan’s sake! Make her change her mind!” The gray molly snapped back at him, her fluffy tail still lashing as she glared at him. “You’ve seen Snowkit training, and you agree that he should be an apprentice. It’s your job as a deputy to make sure he gets a mentor!”

Fireheart refrained from snarling back about how he shouldn’t be deputy. Nor could he remark upon how he couldn’t make her do anything; he’d tried, and failed, to make her depose of Tigerclaw, and that had turned out so wonderfully for the Clan. But those weren’t Cinderspark’s problems to concern herself with, so he said nothing aloud, instead looking out into the forest towards camp.

“Well?” She challenged him, getting up in his face now. “Or are you saying that he doesn’t deserve to be an apprentice? Do you think that I haven’t taught him well enough?” There was a furious spark in her eyes, a daring for him to challenge her - and he knew all too well exactly why it was there.

“No, I-” He sighed, standing up now and turning away from her. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her about it, but don’t expect anything to change. She… Just keep training, for now.”

He didn’t hear Cinderspark’s response as he padded away, his paws feeling like stone beneath him. He had a feeling he already knew how this was going to go; yet, the warrior was right that Snowkit deserved a chance, and there was always the possibility he was wrong. Maybe Bluestar would change her mind now.

He pushed through the bramble tunnel into camp, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze as he entered. “Fireheart!” He grimaced as he heard his name called, looking up to see Peppermask crossing camp with a concerned green gaze. “Where have you been? After all the patrols returned, you weren’t back, and I-”

“I was taking a walk with Cinderspark.” He interrupted before she could finish. “She wanted to stay out and enjoy the stars some, so I let her. Now I need to go talk to Bluestar.”

“I- Oh. Alright, then.” The gray tabby looked baffled at his apparent disinterest and monotone voice, but he didn’t give her a chance to ask any questions before he was walking past her towards the Highrock. Whitestorm was sitting guard outside, his golden eyes curious as the deputy approached, but he was silent as Fireheart pushed his way past the moss and into Bluestar’s den.

The silver leader was cleaning her whiskers, having evidently just finished a meal. She blinked up at him, her blue eyes unreadable as she regarded her young deputy. “Fireheart? What is it?” She asked, her voice quiet but loud enough to hear in the small den.

He took a deep breath, trying not to let his nerves get to him. He hadn’t even thought of what he was going to say, but he couldn’t just walk back out. “Snowkit should be an apprentice.” He announced, his words echoing off the stone around him.

Bluestar’s gaze immediately narrowed at his words. “Perhaps you don’t realize, Fireheart, but Snowkit is deaf. He cannot hear sounds. He is a liability out on the territory, when he can’t hear a Monster on the Thunderpath, or orders during a battle. He can’t hear the bark of a dog or-”

“I know that, Bluestar.” Fireheart snapped, cutting her off before she could go further. “I know he’s deaf, but it does him and the Clan a disservice to have an able-bodied cat wasting away in the elder’s den - not to mention it’s cruel to never give him at least an apprentice name, when even I got one on my first day in the Clan. Certainly, he might have to make certain concessions - not fighting in battle, not patrolling alone - but there’s no reason not to at least train him to hunt and fight.”

“You say you know, yet you clearly don’t understand.” Bluestar snapped at him, her silver scruff slowly rising now. “Any moment he’s out on the territory, he will have to be watched by another warrior, a constant burden on our already limited ranks. He will be impossible to train when he can’t hear instructions. The most he can do is gather moss, clean nests, and fix the camp wall, which is precisely what he does now. He’s fine where he is.”

Fireheart dug his claws into the ground below him, trying his hardest not to growl bitterly at the queen before him. “But it’s not fine, Bluestar! He’s miserable where he is, and so are most of the elders. They want to see him trained, not just me and Speckleflight. You can ask any of them, and they’ll all say they think he deserves a chance. If you could just see-”

“Are you questioning my judgement?” Bluestar hissed, her tail tip flicking furiously as she stared him down. “Snowkit will remain an elder. That is final.”

For a heartbeat, Fireheart considered walking away. Was this argument really necessary over Snowkit, of all the cats in the Clan? Perhaps it was better to keep the peace for now, to let her think about it and come to terms with it on her own time.

Then he straightened up, his own tail lashing as he glared back at her. He’d been meek and submissive to Bluestar long enough; sooner or later, he would have to stand up to her, and Snowkit was as worthy of a cause as he could think of. “Yes, actually, I am.” He spat back, letting his fur rise to match hers. “You call Snowkit deaf, but you’re the one that refuses to listen when anyone tries to tell you anything, because you can’t ever admit you might be wrong. You didn’t listen to Yellowfang when she said Starclan sent a sign that Tigerclaw shouldn’t be deputy; you didn’t listen to me when I told you he was a murderer; and not only that, you ignored Frostfur’s wishes and gave her kit to be trained by him just to spite me!”

The silver leader stared at him with wide blue eyes, but he wasn’t finished yet. “And as if that wasn’t enough, now you huddle here in your den so you can ignore the mess you’ve made - that you continue to make - outside! Snowkit does his best all day, trying to prove to you that he can be an apprentice, not that you’ll ever bother to see it. I’m out there running myself ragged trying to keep this Clan from falling apart - I even had to represent Thunderclan on my own at the Gathering, thanks to you. And that’s not even mentioning the flood, which you wouldn’t have known about if I hadn’t told you.”

The den was quiet now, filled only with the sound of him breathing heavily as he glared at the leader he had looked up to for so long. “What happened to you, Bluestar?” He asked, lowering his voice now. “When I first joined Thunderclan, you seemed so wise, so powerful. You handled Redtail’s death with grace and dignity, even as you mourned the loss of a deputy that had led by your side for seasons. I remember how you sent me after Yellowfang, alone, because you knew the rest of the Clan might hurt her over Spottedleaf’s death. And I remember, too, how you stood up for Windclan, how you convinced the other leaders into letting them return. You were a great leader.” He shook his head and turned away. “At least, that’s what I thought. I wanted to believe it so badly, but now, with how you’ve been acting? I think I only thought you were great because that was what I wanted to see. I think there was never a great leader to begin with; only this miserable, stubborn old cat whose ears are so far up among the stars that they can’t listen to the rest of us still on the ground.”

He knew without a doubt that he had lost this argument. He knew that he had taken a swing at their already tenuous relationship with such force that it would surely shatter. And though he knew that he would regret it later, he couldn’t help but feel as though he had shaken off a burden he didn’t even know was there.

He didn’t look back as he stormed out of the curtains, past Whitestorm, and towards the entrance. Cinderspark was by the elders’ den with Snowkit, looking at him expectantly, but he didn’t even give her a glance as he rushed past. He wasn’t sure where he was going - just that he needed to be out of camp at this very moment.

He had only gotten halfway up the ravine wall when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Whitestorm walking towards him, his thick brows furrowed. “Young Fireheart! Please, wait a moment.”

“Save it.” Fireheart growled, turning back to continue climbing up the rocky slope. With how loud he had shouted, he had no doubt that Whitestorm had heard every word of his ranting at Bluestar, and was surely coming to admonish him for lashing out at his aunt. “I don’t need a lecture from you. I said what I said, and I meant every word.”

He thought that might be enough to ward Whitestorm off - at least for a little while - but he soon heard the scattering of pebbles behind him as the large tom followed him. “I will not scold you, Fireheart.” He blinked in surprise, turning back at the top of the ravine to watch the warrior clamber up beside him. “Perhaps there was a gentler way for it to be said, but that is not the point I was going to make. You told her the truth; she was going to have to hear it eventually.”

“I…” Fireheart sighed, letting the tension in his shoulders relax. With a flick of his tail, Whitestorm signaled for the younger tom to follow, and he did so without hesitation. “I shouldn’t be deputy, Whitestorm. I hate being deputy. I know everyone’s judging me and I don’t know if I’m making the right decisions and I’m scared of what will happen when I make the wrong one. I want to go back to being a warrior. I want her to choose someone better, and I don’t understand why she refuses to when you’re right there.”

It felt good to get it all out, sharing his worries with the empty night as they walked. The large warrior beside him listened, not saying a word, until a moment had passed after his last words and the older Thunderclanner was sure he had no more to say. “How much do you know about Adderfang?” Whitestorm asked Fireheart quietly.

He blinked up at Whitestorm, a mixture of confusion and anger and sadness all coursing through him at once at the question. “I don’t- I know he was Bluestar’s rival for deputy. I know Pinestar thought he was the subject of a prophecy. I know he mentored Tigerclaw, when he was an apprentice. I know… I know he ordered Tigerclaw to attack Tinyfrost, before he had joined the Clan.”

The great warrior nodded sadly, turning his gaze out into the forest. “Yes, those are all true. He was a fierce fighter, the Clan’s greatest warrior - just like Tigerclaw was. There was none around that could best him - not even Raggedstar or Crookedstar. Every cat in Thunderclan admired him, in a way - especially his kits, Willowbranch, Nightwish, and Mistspring.” He looked back to the young deputy to catch his green gaze widening in shock. “Yes, surprising, isn’t it? They don’t act much like him - except, perhaps, for Mistspring, who inherited his boldness.”

Fireheart dipped his head in agreement. “I… the way everyone talks about him, I can’t see him having kits.”

“Tigerclaw had kits, did he not? Only Dustleap seems to have inherited his warlike ways, though even Sandstorm has his combative nature.” Whitestorm glanced up at the foliage above them for a moment. “The truth is, Fireheart, no cat is fully good - just as no cat is fully bad. Even Tigerclaw, for all his faults, believed he was doing what he must for the good of the Clan.”

They walked in silence for several heartbeats before Whitestorm spoke again. “As you already know, Pinestar was the leader of Thunderclan before Bluestar. His father, Oakstar, was leader before him. It was claimed - though I do not know whether it was true - that Thunderstar himself was their ancestor, and that made them more suited than any cat to rule Thunderclan.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Whitestorm’s ears perked at Fireheart’s exclamation, and the ginger tom quickly composed himself. “I mean, every cat I’ve met seems to think Pinestar was a terrible leader. And Bluestar is- she was a good leader, before Tigerclaw, and she’s not related to them, is she?”

“No. Though there were rumors Pinestar was my father, when I was an apprentice. Bluestar squashed any notion of that when I asked her about it though.” Fireheart looked away, trying not to show that he knew the truth - that Brokentail, who everyone believed Whitestorm had killed, was his father. “And yes - though Pinestar’s story has been revised since his disappearance, he was weak-willed and poorly adapted to leadership. He was a fine cat - had he not become leader, I am sure he would have been a good warrior, and retired at old age to become a beloved elder. But because of Oakstar’s insistence on Thunderstar’s legacy…”

Fireheart nodded slowly in response. He was beginning to understand why Whitestorm had brought up the old leader now. “But how does Adderfang fit into this? He wasn't related to Pinestar, was he?”

Whitestorm shook his head. “No, not to my knowledge. The truth is, Pinestar wanted Tigerclaw to succeed him, just as he had succeeded his father before him. He was old, however, and on his last life when Tigerclaw was born. He knew it was unlikely he would survive to see Tigerclaw become a warrior - let alone a warrior old enough to mentor an apprentice and become deputy. He needed an intermediary, a cat he could trust to choose Tigerclaw, or his kits, when the time came. Someone who would fulfill his legacy.” The white tom scrunched his nose up into a grimace. “Remember, he already believed Adderfang was chosen by Starclan. He thought that if he gave his only kit to Adderfang to mentor, that Adderfang would watch over him as if he were Tigerclaw’s father, and that he would one day be more likely to choose him to succeed him in leadership.”

“And he knew Bluefur wouldn’t?” Fireheart questioned. After all, she had ended up choosing Tigerclaw in the end - even if it had been a dire mistake she had paid for with her lives.

“Bluefur was never very fond of Pinestar - she tolerated him as her leader, but that was as far as her respect for him went. After her mother died in a raid on Windclan territory, she made a habit of questioning his decisions. I suspect he believed she wouldn’t respect his wishes.” Whitestorm sniffed disdainfully at the thought of the older leader. “Of course, when he was confronted by the cat that Adderfang had become, he had no choice but to choose her instead, regardless of the consequences of his legacy. Perhaps if he had made better decisions, things would have been different - but it’s so easy to say that, with the benefit of hindsight.”

Fireheart curled his lip at that. Perhaps Whitestorm was right, and if he had been in Pinestar’s place, he would have made similar decisions. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as if, with all that he’d heard about Pinestar, he could have been a better leader. One that Thunderclan deserved - and certainly not one that mentored his kit to a kit-killer.

“It was from Pinestar’s decisions that Bluestar realized the risks inherent in creating a legacy of leaders - that it would prevent leaders from choosing the best warrior for their deputy, allowing weak leaders to ascend and wreak havoc on the Clan with their poor decisions. Or, in the case of Raggedstar and Brokentail, that it would blind the leader to their children’s faults.” The names of the old Shadowclan leaders spilling from Whitestorm’s tongue sent a jolt up Fireheart’s spine. The senior warrior had no idea that he was talking about his father and grandfather - not that the ginger tom dared tell his companion that. “She swore that she would never allow a legacy to form in Thunderclan again. Not Pinestar’s, nor-”

“Then why’d she let Tigerclaw be deputy? He’s still Pinestar’s son.” Fireheart blurted out before he could stop himself. Whitestorm’s stare made him duck his head apologetically, but he felt his question was right, and didn’t intend to take it back. “I mean, how’d she know he wouldn’t continue said legacy?”

“Before Quickflash’s death, she wouldn’t have considered him for precisely that reason. Though Dustleap and Sandstorm are fine warriors, and may make good leaders one day, she feared that Tigerclaw would feel fettered by the past. Though he rejects his father wholeheartedly, she worried that he might feel compelled to follow his wishes regardless…” Whitestorm’s gaze was troubled as he spoke, his tail flicking like his aunt’s often did when she was irritated. “If Redtail hadn’t appeared, I still have my doubts she would have chosen him. And yet…”

Fireheart grit his teeth at the mention of the troublesome tortoiseshell tom that had haunted the forest. He knew Redtail hadn’t intended for his appearance to cause such damage - and yet, knowing that it had, he couldn’t help but blame him for their recent troubles. Perhaps if he’d just minded his business…

“From your outburst earlier, it seems as if you already know what happened.” Whitestorm mewed, a tinge of curiosity in his eyes as he regarded the younger cat beside him.

“Yellowfang told me.” Fireheart admitted readily - there was no harm in Whitestorm knowing now, he figured. “She was one of the cats that discovered what Tigerclaw was up to before… before.” He didn’t need to say it out loud; they both knew he was speaking about the final battle in Thunderclan’s camp. “That was why she was so insistent on him not becoming deputy.”

“I had wondered as much.” His older companion replied, returning his gaze to the path ahead of them. Fireheart wasn’t sure exactly where they were going - perhaps towards the Great Sycamore? - but he also figured it didn’t really matter. The territory was theirs, after all, and it wasn’t likely that anyone would disturb them now. 

“Do you wish he hadn’t shown up?” Fireheart questioned the wise white warrior, wondering if perhaps he had had the same thoughts regarding Redtail’s appearance.

“No.” Whitestorm replied, to his surprise. “It was sudden, true, but it was a sign that Yellowfang interpreted easily. Starclan doesn’t always send such clear signs - Goosefeather taught me that, and though Spottedleaf tried her best, she rarely received such insight into their visions.”

Right - Fireheart had forgotten that not every cat knew that Redtail hadn’t yet joined Starclan. His sign had only been a result of his will. “I just - if Yellowfang interpreted it so easily, why did Bluestar ignore her?”

“I wish I knew.” The other tom admitted with a heavy sigh. “Bluestar has always heavily considered what Goosefeather and Spottedleaf had to say - even if she disagreed with their interpretations in the end. Her ignoring of Yellowfang worried me, and since then…”

He trailed off for a moment, and they both knew Whitestorm was thinking of his aunt - curled up in her nest, staring sightlessly at nothing after her deputy’s betrayal. “Starclan rarely sends a clearer sign. I can’t fault them for it - I only wish Bluestar had listened.”

Fireheart nodded listlessly. He wished the same - or that Starclan had otherwise intervened when he had revealed Tigerclaw’s treachery to Bluestar. He understood in that case, however, why Redtail had chosen not to show up, given what had happened when he’d tried it before. “Did they send a sign that clear to make me deputy? Some cats were thinking that, and I-”

“No.” His heart sank as he heard Whitestorm confirm what he had feared. “Bluestar, she- I think that she was afraid of choosing another deputy that could betray her again. She trusted Tigerclaw so much, and I think that the thought of trusting any cat with that position felt impossible. She hasn’t told me why she chose you, but I have a theory of my own. You were the only one there to save her - in her mind, I think, that made you the only one she could trust.”

The young deputy did his best to keep his face impassive, but his thoughts churned with bitter resentment. “What about Tinyfrost? He was there too. Or you? She trusts you most of all, so surely-”

He swallowed back his anger as Whitestorm rested his white tail against Fireheart’s ginger flank. “Because she fears creating her own legacy, as Oakstar did. She never wants to see a dynasty like that form in Thunderclan again - and, to that end, that she will never chose a cat related too closely to her as her deputy, out of fear that it might cause them to form their own legacy.”

“But that’s mouse-brained!” Fireheart exclaimed, stiffening as his thoughts caught up to his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud - but thankfully, Whitestorm was smiling at him, seeming amused by the younger tom’s words. “I mean - you’d make a fine deputy, regardless of your relation to Bluestar. Why can’t she see that?”

Whitestorm dipped his head to Fireheart. “I’m glad to have your vote of confidence, young one. Who knows? Perhaps I would make a good leader.” He gave a deep, heavy sigh and stared once more into the forest. “But Bluestar has made up her mind, and I respect her reasoning, enough that I won’t argue her out of it. For better or worse, I will never be deputy - and neither will Tinyfrost or Lionheart.”

Fireheart tilted his head in confusion. “You I understand, I guess, since you’re her nephew, and she mentored you. Tinyfrost too - she’s the reason he joined Thunderclan, after all, and she mentored him too. But why in Starclan’s name wouldn’t she choose Lionheart?”

“Because he’s my mate.” Whitestorm replied simply.

“That’s-” Fireheart refrained from saying mouse-brained again, even though it was precisely that. “By that logic, you might as well eliminate half the Clan! You were raised with Frostfur and Tigerclaw, so are they too close to you to be considered? What about your apprentices? Or me, since I was Tinyfrost’s apprentice? Or-”

“He is the father of my kits - therefore, he is related to me, and related to her.” Whitestorm interrupted gently, turning his gaze back to the tom beside him. Fireheart guessed the explanation made sense, though he didn’t like it any more than he had before. “Your dismay is understandable, however. It is a concern that Lionheart once shared, when I first told him Bluestar’s reasoning.”

“Really?” Fireheart perked his ears in surprise. Tinyfrost had once told him that Lionheart had been seen as a reckless, hot-headed warrior - a far cry from the subdued, wise warrior that was so similar to his mate, Whitestorm. It was not that Lionheart had shared his thoughts that surprised him, but rather that they were still mates despite it. “But he’s still your mate, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Whitestorm’s golden gaze clouded briefly. “But we weren’t born mates. We were once young warriors - fearless, reckless, witless young warriors.” He shook his head with another gentle sigh, even though his whiskers twitched as he smiled slightly. “When our hearts first began growing together, I told him what Bluestar had told me - that I would never become deputy, and that if he became my mate, he would never become deputy either. He… did not take it well. We ended up going our separate ways as a result.”

If Fireheart was honest, he didn’t know that much about love. What little it had been spoken of to him was confusing and alien, as it seemed to be when he spoke about Twoleg mannerisms to the other Clan cats. He had never heard of love breaking apart before - he’d almost thought it wasn’t possible, with how Graystripe and Silverstream acted. “But you’re about to have kits together, aren’t you? Something must have changed.”

“Indeed - though it did not seem that way at the time.” Whitestorm rumbled, shadows passing over his eyes once more. “We spent close to two season-cycles apart. I had assumed we were fated to be apart - that Starclan’s destiny was for me to walk alone, just as my aunt had. We grew to be great warriors - I had my own apprentice, Mistspring, and he was renowned as one of Thunderclan’s best warriors.”

Fireheart hadn’t heard that Whitestorm had mentored Mistspring before, but he supposed it made sense - she often seemed quite similar to his other apprentice, Sandstorm, though far less prickly. “And then?” He prompted, curious to hear the end of the tale.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now of the Great Hunger, the leafbare before you joined. The prey was scarce, and famine ravished the clan - followed shortly by an outbreak of greencough that spread quickly through those already weakened by hunger. Many cats died from it, especially among the elders and senior warriors. I was nearly one of them.” Whitestorm’s ear flicked at his companion’s gasp of shock. “I contracted greencough, and was laid in Spottedleaf’s den. At my weakest, she had told Bluestar to prepare for my vigil, and Lionheart - he told me he overheard.”

“He told me that in that moment, he realized one thing - that being Thunderclan’s deputy, or leader, would mean nothing to him if it was a Thunderclan without me. He begged Starclan to save me, and it seems they saw fit to listen to his prayers.” A genuine smile was on the mighty warrior’s maw now as he looked up at the stars above them. “I began to recover, and he came to me and… you can imagine the rest.”

“Just like that?” Fireheart asked skeptically. “You didn’t hold any resentment against him?”

“No.” Whitestorm answered readily. “Though I can see how you would think that. Every kit dreams of being deputy, and perhaps even leader, one day; It is the greatest dream that a warrior can aspire to. Though he had not yet received an apprentice, Lionheart was a brave and bold warrior, and had trained under our longtime deputy, Redtail.”

“He had a bright future ahead of him; if he had not become my mate, there was every chance he could be chosen to become Bluestar's deputy when Redtail retired. I can't blame him for being upset and not wanting to throw that away.” Whitestorm tilted his head and looked back to Fireheart now.  “It was a childish dream, but it was a dream nonetheless, and I don’t blame him for being unable to let go of it so easily. In the end, I accepted his reconciliation because I saw that he was speaking the truth, and that he had grown significantly in our time apart. That is a belief I still hold true today.”

Fireheart hadn’t had a chance to think of his future beyond being a warrior; he had been so caught up in what Tigerclaw was scheming and preventing the dark tabby from becoming leader, that he hadn’t even considered becoming deputy or leader. Now that it had been thrust upon him, he struggled to understand why any cat would want to be either; but he knew that he had gotten a look into leadership that most cats didn’t have, and that perhaps if he was still a young warrior, he would feel differently. 

“I see.” He responded at last. “And what about you? Are you okay with never being deputy?”

The older warrior chuffed in amusement at his question. “When I was a young warrior, I must admit that I was frustrated with Bluestar's decision. I didn't fully understand it as I do now; as you, I'm sure, do now. But, in time, I have come to understand her reasons, and, truth be told, I have reasons of my own - reasons that, I suspect, are very similar to yours.” The warrior’s golden gaze burned into him now, and his fur began to prickle uncomfortably. It almost felt like when he had met Bluestar for the first time, and how she had seemed to know his every thought before even he had it. “You have seen how the burden of leadership weighs heavily on my aunt. While it's true that I could be a good leader one day, I think I would prefer to live a quiet life; one with Lionheart, and my kits, where I grow old and become a wise and beloved elder - the fate that Pinestar had taken from him by becoming leader."

Whitestorm was right; were it not for Bluestar, and how she had seemed to crumble after Tigerclaw’s betrayal, he might be fine with being deputy. Things would be far different if he hadn’t had to essentially lead the Clan in her absence. "It sounds childish, but I don't want to be Bluestar’s deputy anymore.  I don't want to be leader one day. I want to become a great warrior, maybe a great elder one day - no more than that." Fireheart mewed plaintively. 

Whitestorm nodded as if he had anticipated this. "I understand. You have carried a heavy burden, one that I suspect your peers would not have been able to carry so gracefully. Perhaps, with more time, when you are older, when you have had your own apprentices, you may change your mind once more - and there is no shame in that. But there is also no shame in admitting your weaknesses and knowing that you cannot carry this mantle for much longer.”

They walked through the forest for a long moment, silence filling the gap between them, until the white tom finally spoke up once more. “For now, I would ask that you stay deputy. My aunt is in a fragile state right now, seeing threats behind every word and shadows within even the brightest light. Give me time - give her time - and I will convince her to choose someone else as deputy. There are more candidates now than there were; quite good candidates, I suspect. Perhaps she will have an easier time now picking one of them."

Fireheart wished the answer was different - but he also understood Whitestorm’s reasoning. If he stepped down now, after his fight with Bluestar, she might perceive that as a betrayal in and of itself - and he feared what that could do to make her spiral, and potentially harm the Clan as a whole. “I understand, Whitestorm.”

"Is that all? Have I relieved your mind?" The mighty warrior asked, keeping his ears perked and his gaze focused on his deputy beside him.

Fireheart thought about it for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Thinking about there being an end in sight - the explanation you gave - I understand now, and I think I can handle being deputy a little bit longer."

Whitestorm nodded. "Very well. Now, if I may - there is a question that I wanted to ask you."

"Me?" Fireheart asked in surprise. Whitestorm was so wise and knowledgeable - he struggled to think of anything that he knew that the other tom didn’t, at this point.

"Yes. Ever since you first discovered her, you have always been closest to Yellowfang - and now, it is Yellowfang that troubles me. Or, perhaps, not her herself - but her behavior.”

A tangle of memories surfaced in his mind - Yellowfang in the foxhole prison, comforting her son Brokentail; Fireheart talking to the prisoner and learning of his half-Clan son; the shock of realization when Bluestar had told him about Snowstorm’s death. "How so?" Fireheart asked, his heart pounding. He suspected he knew what Whitestorm meant, yet he played dumb anyways - it was always possible that the older tom meant something else.

"Lately, Yellowfang has been spending a lot of time with me. At first, I thought it was simply because I was guarding Brokentail often - then, because of my injuries. But now that I am healed and well, and Brokentail is - " His head dropped slightly at the thought - "dead, I cannot understand why she chooses to remain in my company. She has always been an ill-tempered molly. To see her softer side so suddenly and so often confuses me. I've been trying to make sense of it - and I had hoped that you, being closest to her, might understand her change in attitude."

Fireheart nodded slowly. "Yes." He admitted at last, knowing he couldn’t pretend anymore. "I do know why, but I can’t tell you - it’s not my secret to tell. She means well, but- you’ll have to ask her yourself if you want to know more."

"I had suspected something like that. Still," Whitestorm sighed heavily, “I worry that she’ll take it the wrong way. Her behavior is perplexing, but I can’t say it is unwelcome. With Bluestar being so fragile, it’s nice to have a steady figure to turn to.” 

He had to admit this was a reasonable worry - even he had to admit that he and Yellowfang were prone to misunderstandings, the most prominent being when he had thought she knew about Tigerclaw when she was talking about a prophecy. “If that happens, just tell me. I’m certain that I can get through to her.” Which was more than he could say for Bluestar, a constant source of frustration for him now.

“Thank you. That does help, at least little.” Whitestorm purred, finally coming to a stop. Fireheart did the same, confused as to the sudden halt in conversation. “I should be getting back to camp. Lionheart will be worrying about me, and I have Bluestar to attend to.” His ears flickered briefly, but he nonetheless stood tall as he gave Fireheart a friendly wave. “I will leave you to your thoughts. Perhaps you can do a little night hunting, to let off some of that steam.”

Fireheart nodded in understanding; and, truth be told, that did sound like a good idea. He had a lot to process about what Whitestorm had told him, and he didn’t feel like returning to camp and facing Cinderspark and Snowkit anyways. “Can you tell Cinderspark not to wait up for me, as well? I’ll talk to her tomorrow, just… not right now.”

The older tom looked curious, but clearly sensed his desire not to elaborate. “I will do just that. Good hunting, Fireheart, and may Starclan light your path.”

“And may they light yours.” Fireheart echoed, watching as the white tom disappeared into the dark shadows beyond. He looked around at the forest surrounding him; a quiet silver in the moonlight, still and silent as it waited for the sun to rise once more. Hunting would be difficult, with only nocturnal creatures out now, but it was really the solitude that the ginger tom desired now.

Dropping into a hunting crouch, he stalked in the opposite direction, continuing towards the Great Sycamore. With any luck, there might be a few late-scavenging mice for him to bring back to camp and feed his ever-hungry niblings.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 53

Chapter 52 || Index || Chapter 54

Fireheart trotted into camp, his head held high despite the two squirrels he was carrying by their fluffy tails. The late day hunting patrol had been a wild success, with Mousefur, Mistspring and Cherrypaw all carrying nearly a dozen fresh kills between them as they followed him through the bramble tunnel. He could see the eyes of warriors glowing hungrily around him in the newleaf dusk, likely salivating at the sight of the feast that awaited the Clan.

The ginger deputy led his patrol across camp to the freshkill pile, largely empty except for a couple of mice that hadn’t yet been eaten from the morning hunting patrol. He paused beside it, dropping his squirrels at his paws. “I’ll take these to the queens. Cherrypaw, why don’t you bring that woodpecker and blue jay you caught to the elders? Then get something for you and your siblings to enjoy - you certainly deserve it with catches like those.”

The apprentice’s green eyes glowed at his praise, and she nodded eagerly before bounding over to the elders’ den, her prizes in tow. He watched her briefly, recalling his own apprentice days when he had brought the Shadowclan elders a fresh woodpecker. He could hear the elders murmuring in shock over her kills as he leaned down to pick up his squirrels, trotting over to the nursery where his sisters and niblings were surely tucked away inside.

He had only barely entered before nearly running into another cat. “Oh!” He gasped in surprise, the squirrel tails falling from his mouth as he backpedaled. “I’m sorry, I-” His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the nursery to see Lionheart’s golden pelt, nearly brown in the darkness, and two wide green eyes that crinkled as they caught his gaze.

“No need to apologize, Fireheart.” The large warrior purred, shifting to make room for his deputy to pass by. “I should be the one apologizing, taking up all the space in here like that! I forgot you’d be coming by soon with something for your sister and her kits.” He eyed the squirrels where they had fallen approvingly. “And quite a plump something, at that. It bodes well for us if the squirrels are already recovered from their leafbare hibernations.”

“The prey is certainly thriving.” Fireheart agreed readily, picking the squirrels back up and carrying them across the nursery to where his sister’s nest was. To his surprise, it was empty except for Princess. He carefully laid out one of the squirrels next to her, even as his head tilted in confusion. “Where are the kits?” He questioned softly.

“Watching Yellowfang do her work.” She replied, flicking her tail over to Frostfur’s nest. Sure enough, his niblings were crowded around the edge of the white queen’s nest, their eyes huge as they watched the dark gray healer carefully nose over each of the three little lumps of fur at her belly. Whitestorm and Lionheart sat beside her, their tails wound together tightly as Whitestorm pawed anxiously at the nursery’s soft ground. “I told them they could watch as long as they didn’t make a sound or move a whisker. Yellowfang and Dewshine are such good healers; I want them to have an appreciation for the work they do keeping kits healthy.”

“It surely wouldn’t hurt.” Fireheart agreed, watching his niblings as they sat whisker-still. He’d never seen them so enraptured before, sitting so silently that even a whisker drop would be louder than them. “Who knows, perhaps one of them will be Dewshine’s apprentice in a couple of seasons!”

“Bah, she’s too young for an apprentice.” His ear flicked as Yellowfang grumbled, briefly shooting her copper gaze in his direction before returning back to her examination. “Alright, you five - why don’t you go eat that tasty squirrel instead of trying to be little stones, hmm? If you sit like that for too much longer, you’ll end up petrifying and turning into rocks.”

They stared at her with wide eyes. “Does that really happen?” Sootkit asked, his golden eyes glittering with worry in the thin nursery light.

She huffed in his direction. “Are you questioning me?” She growled, looking up at him with a low glare.

The dark gray kit jolted in shock. “Of course not!” He squeaked, backpedalling over Rainkit to dart towards Princess before Yellowfang could threaten them further, his siblings quickly following him. Fireheart looked on, his whiskers twitching in amusement. No doubt they’d realize Yellowfang was joking sooner or later - but it didn’t hurt them to have a healthy fear of her for now, especially when they seemed to fear little else.

“Thank you for the food, Unka Fireheart.” His ears perked as Rainkit bowed his head to the young deputy before gingerly tearing into the squirrel’s pelt. His words were quickly followed by a chorus of ‘Thank you!’s from the other kits before they hungrily dug in.

“Well, you’re most certainly welcome.” He purred in response, pleasantly surprised by the sudden show of gratitude from his nephew. “Teaching them manners now, are we?” He asked his sister, glancing up at her with a lopsided smile.

“Speckleflight did.” Princess explained, watching the kits feast with her own small smile. “She’s got them all wrapped up around her paw after that day in the meadow, even Cloudkit. She told them this morning that Bluestar only lets polite apprentices with good manners become warriors, and they spent all day begging her and the other elders for manners lessons.”

“Ith that true, Unka?” Cloudkit asked, sitting up and staring at Fireheart with wide blue eyes.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude.” Fireheart admonished, his nephew’s eyes immediately widening before he mumbled an apology. “Yes, it’s true. Rude apprentices don’t get to become warriors until their mentor teaches them some manners, and warriors that lose their manners have to sleep in the apprentices’ den until they remember them again. That’s what happened to Graystripe, you know.”

“That’s why Graystripe sleeps in the apprentices’ den!?” Lynxkit squeaked in shock, her pale green eyes nearly the size of an owl’s. “Smallear said it was because he was so bad at hunting he only brought back pinecones and dead leaves, but One-eye smacked him and called him a name Rosetail said we weren’t allowed to repeat.”

Fireheart did his best to refrain from snickering at that. He could only imagine what One-eye had called her brother, given the variety he had heard from her while he was on elder duty. “Well, you should listen to Rosetail on that part, but Smallear was probably just making fun of Graystripe. He’s not the best hunter in the Clan, not like Dappleshine or Mousefur - or yours truly.” He winked at the kits, who were all staring at him with adoring eyes. “But enough of that. Kits need to eat lots of food to become big and strong warriors, you know. Besides, I have to take this squirrel to Frostfur.”

He waved goodbye to the kits and Princess with his tail as he picked up the remaining squirrel and dragged it over to Frostfur’s nest, where Yellowfang had just finished inspecting a mottled grey, cream and white kit that looked a bit like Sorrelkit. “Her lungs are clear, too. All three look healthy, no reason to worry.” She reported gruffly to Lionheart and Whitestorm. “Still, don’t hesitate to ask me or Dewshine if you’re worried about them, especially when they’re still this small. I’d rather fuss over them for no reason than miss an early case of kittencough.”

The two toms glanced at each other and nodded agreement. “Thank you, Yellowfang.” Lionheart mewed, blinking his green eyes gratefully at her. “While you’re here, we’d hoped that you might stay for naming the kits.”

The old healer perked her ears in surprise. “Well, I suppose I could stay a little bit longer.” She responded gruffly, stepping off to the side to allow Lionheart and Whitestorm to get closer to their kits. “I’m sure you’ve chosen wonderful names for them.”

Whitestorm and Lionheart shared another glance. “Actually…” Whitestorm rumbled now, his tail wrapping tighter around Lionheart’s, “We were wondering if you would like to name them.”

“Wha- me?” Yellowfang’s half-lidded copper eyes widened in shock. “But- I-” She babbled, her normally thorn-sharp and quick-witted tongue completely caught in the surprise that Whitestorm had sprung on her.

The mighty white warrior ducked his head for a few heartbeats. “I… I had a grand speech planned.” Whitestorm admitted readily. “But I… the most important part is that you, Yellowfang, take such good care of the kits - dozens of kits, throughout your lifetime - even knowing you’ll never be able to have any of your own. And I… you mean so much to me, and- and the Clan, that it feels unfair you’ll never be able to have the honor of naming your own kits.” He raised his head to blink slowly at her with his gentle golden eyes. “And so we would like you to have the honor of naming ours.”

Fireheart watched Yellowfang’s jaw work, trying to figure out the words to respond to her grandson - a secret that only half of those in the nursery knew. “I’ve long made my peace with my position in the Clan.” She responded at last. “They’re your kits. I can’t take the joy of naming them from you - the both of you.”

“We’ll have more.” Lionheart purred in response. “But you, Yellowfang - we won’t have you forever. Your knowledge and your wisdom saved our daughters when they were too small to live - we want to honor that, by letting you name them.”

The old healer shook her head once more. “I just- I can’t, I-”

“Oh, for all the stars above!” The four of them jumped as Frostfur snarled, her white tail lashing once against the moss of her nest. “Whitestorm and Lionheart have been talking about this since even before the kits were born - you’re not going to change their minds now. Quit dancing around each other already and just get on with it.”

An awkward silence stretched out through the nursery as all the cats sitting there stared at each other. Just as Fireheart was about to politely excuse himself, Yellowfang shuffled a bit closer to the nest at the three kits suckling at Frostfur’s belly. Her paw hovered over the mottled calico mollyborn she had just been inspecting. “... Dovekit.” The healer declared, with the same gravity she might normally reserve for declaring whether a cat would live or die. “May she always be full of life and spirits.”

Yellowfang’s words tickled at the back of Fireheart’s mind. For a heartbeat, he was back in the foxhole prison with her and Brokentail, the old healer staring down at her son just as she was looking at her great-granddaughter now. I named the first one Hopekit, after the hope I had that the rest would live. 

Whitestorm beamed with pride behind her. “Dovekit - what a beautiful name for a beautiful little molly.” He announced to the nursery as a whole, his chest puffing up even more from joy as he looked fondly to his mate beside him.

Lionheart nodded in approval himself. “It fits her perfectly. I couldn’t have chosen a better name myself.” He rumbled with satisfaction, his tail twining even tighter with Whitestorm’s as his paws began to knead at the ground happily.

Fireheart could see a soft smile light upon Yellowfang’s lips, and with a deep breath she moved to the next kit - a light ginger tabby. “Finchkit.” She decided after a few heartbeats. “May her heart shine as brightly as her pelt and the stars on the Startrail.”

I named the second Wishkit, after the wish I had that they would forgive me in Starclan for breaking the code. Fireheart recalled Yellowfang saying, in the dim light of the foxhole prison. He watched her now, surrounded by her family - her grandson, his mate, and her great-grandkits. He didn’t know if Starclan had taken her daughters to punish her, or made Brokentail her son in some sort of curse. In this moment, Brokentail was dead, having never found any true measure of the power he had so desperately sought. Instead it was Yellowfang, purring and surrounded by the family she had desired for so long - and because of that Fireheart knew, no matter what Starclan had originally felt, they had forgiven her now.

Then her paw hovered over the last kit - a black and white tomborn. Her purring abruptly stopped as the smile faded from her face. The third… He knew immediately that she was picturing her son, who had once only been the size of the kit before her. Brokentail hadn’t always been the tyrant of Shadowclan that terrorized every cat in the forest - he had once been small, and soft, and sweet, suckling at the side of a queen without any thoughts on the world around him. Once, so very long ago…

Yellowfang stared at the kit under her paw, her eyes wide and fearful. He could only imagine the terror in her heart - the fear that this kit would someday turn out like his grandfather. That Starclan would step in and take this momentary bit of happiness from her, punish her once more for so foolishly believing she could have a chance at peace.

Fireheart glanced warily at Whitestorm, silently pleading with the tom to intervene. As soon as their gazes met, the great warrior stepped forward to press into his grandmother’s side. “What about Swiftkit?” He mewed softly next to her. “He looks just like a young swift bird, after all. Then he’ll match his sisters’ names as well.”

“Swiftkit.” Yellowfang repeated, her shoulders sagging in relief as Whitestorm spoke next to her. “Yes, Swiftkit is a lovely name for him. May he always strike as fast as lightning and as strong as thunder.”

Lionheart stepped up next to his mate and pressed into him, his purr loud enough to make the whole den vibrate. “Dovekit, Finchkit, and Swiftkit. Our beautiful children, whose only limit will be the sky above them.” The golden warrior announced, his whole pelt fluffing up slightly in excitement.

“I can’t wait to see them soar to great heights in Thunderclan, just as their parents have.” Fireheart spoke up now, every cat turning to look at him as he got to his paws. “I should be going, though. Dewshine wanted to make sure that my badger bite was healing well after I got back from patrol.” He shot a dirty glare towards where Cloudkit was sitting, and he could see his little white nephew quickly sink beneath the pelts of his siblings in shame.

“Yes, it would hardly do for our deputy to be laid up with infection in the middle of newleaf, would it?” Yellowfang waved him away with a dismissive paw, even as her voice cracked with emotion as she gazed down at her great-grandkits. “Go on now. I’m sure Princess can send one of her kits to fetch you if we need something.”

Fireheart nodded at the obvious dismissal. “Congratulations once more on your kits.” He meowed to Lionheart and Whitestorm as he passed, the two giant warriors only able to beam with joy in his direction before looking back to their kits, softly nestling against each other.

He paused for a brief heartbeat in the nursery entrance to look back. On one side was his family - Princess and her kits, a bundle of trouble that he could not picture himself without any longer. Even though it had brought strife into the Clan, he was glad that he hadn’t turned her away now - Thunderclan would be far bleaker without her, he was sure. On the other side was another family, long torn apart but recently reunited thanks to his own efforts. They had had their own troubles, it was true - but he was glad that he had told Yellowfang the truth, and persuaded her to tell Whitestorm. No longer would they have to be quite so alone in the world; and that, he thought to himself as he turned away and padded towards the healer’s den, was the greatest gift that any cat could ever have.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 50

Chapter 49 || Index || Chapter 51

Fireheart did his best to stifle a yawn as he led the Shadowclan dawn patrol back into camp. One of the perks of being deputy was not needing to go on dawn patrol unless he wanted to. Yet as much as Fireheart desired to sleep in, he also wanted to show that he could pull his weight and be a good deputy - at least until the time came when he could finally be just a normal warrior once more.

He padded over to the usual deputy’s spot beneath the Highrock, only to find that there was someone else waiting for him there as he nearly walked into them. The sudden shock was enough to finally wake up his brain, and he nearly fell over as he stumbled back to take in the stocky, thick-furred form of Yellowfang. Just as he was about to mew an apology - or at least a hello - he noticed the panicked look on her face.

Yellowfang? Panicked? That was enough to make him nearly panic, too.

“I need to speak with you.” Yellowfang mumbled to him as she stood up, keeping her copper gaze on him for no more than a heartbeat before turning and all but rushing for her den. Fireheart hurried after her, not daring to keep the old healer waiting. Worries rushed through his mind. Was this about Bluestar? Had some illness befallen her, just as she was making progress? Had something happened to his niblings? Worse yet, had something happened to his sister?

Fireheart was running through all the possible catastrophes as he ducked through the crack in the ravine wall, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness of the healer’s den inside. There were no other cats inside beside Yellowfang herself, who was pacing back and forth in the small clearing. He’d never seen her like this before, and suddenly his fears went from accident or illness to outright death.

“Whitestorm came to speak with me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, nearly faster than her tongue was able to keep up. “Just after I sent Dewpaw to go fetch some coltsfoot and borage. It’s a bit late in the season for kittencough, but there’s always a chance, and borage will be good for Frostfur when-” Yellowfang paused, taking in a shuddering, raspy breath and slowly releasing it. “You don’t care about all that. The important thing is, we were alone.”

A sudden inkling trickled into the back of his mind as he recalled his earlier conversation with Whitestorm, just before the Gathering. He suddenly suspected he knew what this was about. “And?” Fireheart prompted, doing his best to speak calmly and gently.

She shook her head back and forth, as though trying to shoo off an angry fly buzzing about her head. “He said he’d noticed I’d been spending more time with him lately, and he wanted to know why. I didn’t know what to say!” She raised her eyes skyward in agony, as though Starclan would come down from the heavens and give her the way forward. “He can’t find out, Fireheart. If he knows the truth- if he finds out what I did-”

“Calm down, Yellowfang.” She turned her wild gaze to him, and Fireheart did his best to steady himself in the face of such unbound anxiety. As real as Yellowfang’s fears were - and he was sure they were very real - it was nothing compared to what he had been afraid of. He could handle this - of that he was sure. “Why can’t he find out?”

For a moment, he thought she might unleash any number of creative Shadowclan swears upon him, her gaze becoming dark and stormy as she glared at him. At last, she turned away, forcing herself to take another deep breath. “Isn’t it obvious, Fireheart? If he finds out that I’m Brokentail’s mother - that he’s my grandson - he’ll want nothing to do with me ever again.” Her thorny claws raked along the stony floor of the healer’s den as she kneaded it in agony. “I should- it’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ve enjoyed spending time with him. It makes me imagine what I could’ve had with Brokentail, had- if things had been different.” She bowed her head, no doubt remembering what her son had ended up becoming. “I don’t want to lose that.”

Fireheart took a step towards her, doing his best to appear comforting. “You don’t have to lose that.” He mewed soothingly, reaching out to gently touch her tail with his paw. She didn’t flinch away. “What makes you think that he won’t want to speak with you if he finds out the truth? Whitestorm is patient, understanding, and wise. I think if any cat were to hear you out, it would be him.”

Yellowfang glanced briefly at him as her face screwed up into a scowl before looking away once more. “You don’t understand, Fireheart. Just because you took it in stride doesn’t mean he will. The healer’s code is a sacred thing to Clan cats. Anyone who breaches it must be shunned - that’s what all Clanborn cats are taught from the moment their ears open.”

Fireheart did his best not to react at the none-too-gentle reminder that he wasn’t Clanborn. The old healer was in her own world of agony, he knew, but that didn’t make it sting any less. “And I suppose Dewpaw is a kittypet, too?” He did his best not to let his voice lower into a growl. “Yellowfang, you judge yourself because no one else can. You think you’ve committed the highest sin because of who Brokentail became, and I’m sure narrow-minded cats like Patchpelt or Tigerclaw would agree. But Whitestorm is not them - you should give him a chance, at least.”

She didn’t respond to that, and Fireheart did his best not to lash his tail in frustration. He was suddenly reminded of his apprentice days - was this what Tinyfrost had had to deal with, with him? He mentally noted that he should apologize to his old mentor later. “Yellowfang, look at it this way. You could not tell him the truth, but he’ll expect an answer when he next sees you. Will you be able to lie well enough to satisfy his curiosity? If not, he might stop talking to you because you lied to him. You could avoid him, so you don’t have to answer - but then, you’ll never be able to have anything to do with him again. Is that not exactly what you’re trying to avoid?” He could almost see her mind working as she parsed his question, slowly turning to face him once more. “I can be there with you when you tell him, if it will help. You know I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

Her face was covered in shadow as she stared at him, her eyes unreadable in the darkness. He did his best to look confident as he met her gaze, waiting for her to make a decision. “Alright.” He perked his ears as she croaked out a response. “Alright. But you have to stay with me.”

Fireheart smiled and nodded affirmatively as he stood up. It was nice being the reasonable one for a change - he could see why Peppermask enjoyed it so much. “Of course. I won’t leave your side.” He flicked his ginger tail towards the entrance. “I’ll go get him now, and we can take a walk together?”

“Now?” Yellowfang’s eyes were as wide as her paws as she stared at him in shock. “But I don’t know what to say!”

“Yes, now.” Fireheart tilted his head as though he were confused. Now he was being a bit petty - but he enjoyed it nonetheless. “I don’t have all day, you know. What with being the deputy and all.”

He turned and left before she could protest further, leaving her alone to gather her wits. Whitestorm was guarding camp, which he knew from assigning the patrols earlier. At the moment, he was talking to his mate, who had been on the dawn patrol with Fireheart. Thornpaw was sitting next to Lionheart, looking quite grumpy from the early morning wake-up.

“Whitestorm!” Fireheart called, the three turning their attention to their deputy as he crossed camp towards them. “Yellowfang needs some help gathering marigold, and Dewpaw’s out fetching other herbs at the moment. Would you mind helping us? I’m sure Lionheart can finish guarding camp in your stead.”

The senior white warrior regarded him with a guarded golden gaze, but Lionheart just chuffed in amusement and tapped his mate with his tail. “I’m sure I could! I was going to take Thornpaw hunting, but I’d happily take some time resting in camp instead. Besides, with Frostfur kitting any day now, the nursery nests need to be cleaner than ever. Isn’t that right, Thornpaw?”

Fireheart did his best not to wince in sympathy as Thornpaw glowered in their direction. Going from a hunting trip to changing out nests - that would put a damper in any apprentice’s mood, and he couldn’t blame the tabby tom in the slightest for his anger. “Fine.” Thornpaw growled before stalking off towards the nursery.

“I’m sure your mother will appreciate it!” Lionheart called after his apprentice, who only lashed his tail in response. Lionheart smirked as he turned back to Fireheart. “Oh, don’t feel bad for him. Goldenflower told me he mouthed off to your sister yesterday when she asked him to fetch her some prey. He could stand to learn some respect for all the queens in our nursery, not just his mothers.”

Any sympathy Fireheart might have had for Thornpaw evaporated in a flash. “He most certainly could.” The deputy agreed readily, before looking back at Whitestorm. “It seems that’s all taken care of, then. If you’ll come?” He questioned, realizing that Whitestorm had never actually answered him.

Whitestorm was still staring at Fireheart, but slowly nodded his assent before getting to his paws. “I suppose it’s only right of me to help out, since Lionheart’s back now.” There was a reluctance to his words that the helpful older warrior would usually never have for such a simple task. He wondered briefly what Yellowfang had said to him, but didn’t ask as he led them to the camp entrance where the old healer was waiting.

She seemed to have collected herself somewhat, no longer looking quite as outright afraid as she led them through the bramble tunnel and up the ravine. They traveled in silence, Yellowfang leading them on a familiar path that Fireheart had taken with her many times before - towards the Twolegplace.

“I take it this is about our earlier conversation?” Whitestorm interrupted the quiet with his question, flicking an ear in response to Fireheart curiously turning towards him. “Marigold doesn’t grow until greenleaf. Spottedleaf taught me that, back when we were young.” 

Fireheart blinked in confusion, before remembering what he’d said to lure the white warrior out of camp. “Oh, I- I guess I didn’t know.” He didn’t know what else to say - short of blurting out the truth of why they were out there, which he didn’t think Yellowfang would appreciate.

As he thought of the old healer in front of them, she suddenly whirled around to look at the two warriors. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.” She growled, her eyes softening as she looked at her grandson. “Please, Whitestorm.”

Whitestorm shifted nervously beside him. Nervous was not a word Fireheart had thought would ever apply to the white tom - but the darting eyes and low ears were confirmation enough that he was nervous indeed. “I can’t do that, Yellowfang.” He mewed at last. “I don’t keep secrets from my mate, and I don’t keep secrets from Bluestar. I- I hope you understand that.”

Yellowfang gasped as if Whitestorm had threatened to kill her where she stood. “Not Bluestar!” She hissed back. “If she finds out, she’ll-”

“Bluestar’s broken the code far more than you, Yellowfang.” Fireheart interrupted before she could finish, the former Shadowclanner looking at him in baffled shock. “Trust me, Yellowfang, she’ll have no problems. As for Lionheart- Whitestorm, would Lionheart tell anyone anything you told him in confidence?”

Whitestorm’s ears perked at Fireheart’s words, his gaze suddenly curious as he appraised the ginger deputy. “You’re cleverer than you let on, Fireheart.” Fireheart blinked, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but the other tom continued on before he could decide. “If I ask him to, Lionheart will not repeat a word I say - not even to his sister.”

“It sounds like at this point I might as well tell the entire Clan.” Yellowfang growled, but he could tell her bluster was a weak front for the fear coursing through her heart.

“Five cats is not an entire Clan.” Fireheart replied steadily in return, keeping himself calm as he met her gaze. “Bluestar won’t act on this, and Lionheart won’t tell a soul. Is them not knowing worth the price of keeping this secret from Whitestorm?”

The old healer looked like she wanted to scratch his eyes out for asking - yet, after several heartbeats, she swallowed her pride and nodded. “But you will not tell anyone else.” She growled. “Promise me, Whitestorm.”

Whitestorm looked between the other two cats, questions clouding his gaze - but he slowly nodded in agreement. “Very well. I promise I shall never repeat a word you tell me except to Bluestar and Lionheart.”

Yellowfang looked around nervously, as though expecting the woods to be full of enemies. There was nothing. “I ask that you not judge me too harshly, though I understand if you do.” She shifted back and forth, her paws working the ground beneath her into fine sand. “I- I hope you’ll understand.”

“When I was young - much younger than I am now - I fell in love with a tom.” Yellowfang began, each word scraping out of her as though it were being physically pulled out of her throat. “Raggedstar. I- I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say I bore him three kits. Two of them died shortly after birth, but one survived.”

It was hard to tell exactly what Whitestorm was thinking - the older tom had always been more stoic and reserved than his mate Lionheart. “Raggedstar only had one child.” He mewed at last, slowly and carefully. “So either he never claimed this child of his, or-”

“Yes.” Yellowfang’s shoulders sagged in defeat as she kept her eyes on the ground, not daring to look at him. “I am Brokentail’s mother.”

Whitestorm was silent for several long, painful heartbeats. Fireheart watched him, fear suddenly rising in his own heart. What if he was wrong? What if Whitestorm wasn’t as accepting as he had led Yellowfang to believe?

At last, the other tom dipped his head. “I understand, I think.” He paused, his brows slowly furrowing. “Partly, at least. I had always wondered why you, of all cats, would advocate for his defense.” 

“Lionheart has been having some trouble mentoring Thornpaw as of late. It seems Tigerclaw left more of a mark on him than any of us would desire.” Whitestorm rumbled on, his claws unsheathing slightly at the mere mention of the exiled traitor. “It all had me thinking about our own kits, soon to be born. I love them with all my being, even though I haven’t yet met them. They are proof of Lionheart and I’s devotion to each other. What would I do if one of them chose that dark path? As much as I would believe that I could guide them, perhaps what I would think to be guidance is only enabling.”

Yellowfang looked up, her flat face full of hard to place emotions. “I advocated for him because I wanted to believe that he could change. I thought maybe in a different Clan, one where he had to rely on others, he would no longer be so arrogant. I thought that having only one life left would humble him, force him to see the error of his ways. Part of me hoped that if I was by his side more, I could persuade him to change.” Her eyes disappeared into a thick scowl. “But I was just enabling him to commit more crimes against a Clan I claimed to love, wasn’t I?”

Whitestorm appraised Yellowfang’s slouched form for a moment, his golden eyes guarded but curious. “A parent’s love is a durable thing, isn’t it? You couldn’t have known that Tigerclaw would use him to try and overthrow Bluestar.” He dipped his head respectfully to the old healer. “It’s easy enough to say what to do with the benefit of hindsight, but there is courage to be had in giving a second chance even to those who have wronged you before.”

Yellowfang heaved a difficult sigh. “I gave him too many.”

Whitestorm shrugged softly in response. “Perhaps.” He mewed steadily. “Perhaps Bluestar gave Tigerclaw too many chances, between what he did to Tinyfrost and Ravenspirit. But he was a strong warrior, and she wanted to believe he could do great things one day. I wanted to believe that, too. Perhaps that was why I went along with her decision that night.” He shook his head with a sigh before tilting it quizzically. “But while that explains a good deal, I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

Yellowfang’s gaze flicked nervously towards Fireheart, all but begging him to step in - which he did readily. “When Brokentail first became Thunderclan’s prisoner, I was one of the first to guard him. He took that as an insult, of course, and started taunting me, calling me a kittypet, my mother and father kittypets, the usual.” Even now, it was hard to keep his tail from bristling as he listed off the ‘typical’ insults. “I told him that I didn’t know who my father was, and that he could be my father for all I know. I added that it was probably an insult to him to even imply that he was the father of a Thunderclanner, and he…” 

Fireheart trailed off and glanced at his ginger paws, part of him worrying about if he was wrong. Maybe Brokentail had been lying, to try and get him to suspect his Clanmates of being half-Clan. It made more sense than the cruel tyrant telling the truth about anything. But Yellowfang and Dewpaw had both agreed that his thoughts made sense, and even Whitestorm had admitted he didn’t know who his father was. 

He looked back up to see Whitestorm staring at him, obviously puzzled. “He told me that he had had a Thunderclan mate, many seasons ago. He didn’t say much about her - only that she died on the Thunderpath several leafbares ago, when her only kit - a tom - was too young to travel to meet him.”

It was easy to see the moment that everything fell into place for Whitestorm. His eyes widened, pupils growing to the size of the new moon as the senior warrior’s white fur bristled from the nape of his neck all the way to his tail. “No.” Whitestorm choked out, stumbling back a few pawsteps before falling onto his rump, his horrified gaze flicking between Fireheart and Yellowfang. “No - No. That cannot be.”

“You said yourself you didn’t know who your father was.” Fireheart continued, even as his heart tore for the warrior he had looked up to for so long. This was a terrible revelation, he knew - not one that squared with the image of Whitestorm, the pinnacle of wisdom and kindness. “Your mother Snowstorm died on the Thunderpath, didn’t she? In leafbare, when you were still too young to leave the nursery.”

“That can’t be- Brokentail cannot be my father!” Whitestorm choked out the words with a snarl, his sides heaving as he fought to control himself. “You have to be mistaken.”

Yellowfang turned away from them with a low growl, her ears pinned back in humiliated anger. “I told you this was a bad idea.” She hissed to Fireheart.

“Sit down and relax, would you?” Fireheart shot back at the old healer before looking back at Whitestorm, trying to remain calm himself. “Why is it impossible, Whitestorm?”

Whitestorm stared back at him, his eyes still round in horror. “Don’t you remember, Fireheart? I was guarding him the day his rogues attacked. He jumped at me, and I was just defending myself, but I-” The older warrior barely choked back a wail. “If what you say is true, I killed my own father!”

Fireheart blinked in surprise, suddenly remembering that no other cat knew what had truly happened that day. Brokentail had been killed, yes - but it was because Yellowfang had poisoned him with foxglove seeds, in the secrecy of their den. He had unintentionally witnessed it, sneaking into her den in fear that she was being attacked by a rogue, but he had chosen to keep that secret because he knew she had intended for no one to know. As far as the Clan knew, Whitestorm’s blows had not just blinded him, but killed him outright.

He glanced at Yellowfang, wondering if she would now reveal the truth. It was one thing, after all, for Whitestorm to take the blame and credit for killing a rogue leader when they had meant nothing to each other. Now, however, Whitestorm clearly believed he was responsible for killing his own blood, even unintentionally. Even though Brokentail had been a terrible cat, one that truly deserved death, it wasn’t fair for Whitestorm to carry such guilt when the one truly responsible was right there.

“It was not you that killed him.” His heart lifted as Yellowfang spoke, relieved that she had decided to come clean after all. “It was his own actions that got him killed. If he had not attacked you, he would not have died.”

“That may be true, but-” Fireheart’s spirits sank as Whitestorm looked down at his paws. Yellowfang was taking the easy way out, refusing to relieve Whitestorm of his guilt when it was clear that the mere thought was tearing him in two. He could only guess she was afraid that he would reject her for refusing to tell the truth; part of him longed to urge her to reveal what had really happened, but doing so would reveal that he had known all along that she had poisoned her son. He had sworn to himself that he would never bring it up - and so he stayed quiet, even though it pained him greatly.

Then the white warrior’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sob. “All this time…” He took a few slow, stuttering breaths, trying to calm himself. Finally, he looked back up at Yellowfang, his golden eyes filled with a sudden clarity. “One of the only memories I have of my mother is when she was leaving the nursery late one morning. I begged to go with her, and I asked her why she couldn’t stay with me.” Tears came to his eyes at the memory of Snowstorm, lost to him before he was even an apprentice. “She told me that she was going to see my father, and it was too far for me to walk. She promised me when I was big and strong enough, she would take me to see him.”

“Deep down, I always knew he was not a Thunderclan warrior.” Whitestorm admitted, his claws digging into the earth below him as if he was afraid it would fall away from him at any moment. “I had always hoped it was a loner, or- or a kittypet, maybe, like Frostfur… Someone unfamiliar with Clan life, someone I would never meet.” He looked over at Fireheart, his eyes shimmering with salty tears. “Are you really certain? Brokentail is my father?”

He didn’t know what to say - part of him wanted to comfort Whitestorm, but he didn’t want the tom to think he was lying, either. “Brokentail never said the name of his mate or his kit, and of course I’ve never spoken to Snowstorm.” He finally mewed as neutrally as he could. “But too many of the details match up for it to be mere coincidence. When I was talking with Bluestar about Snowstorm’s death, she specifically said her sister ran off to the Thunderpath again, like she made a habit of doing that. When I pressed her about it, she went quiet, like she didn’t want me to think about it too deeply.”

“Bluestar?” Whitestorm’s eyes suddenly blazed with hurt and fury. “You don’t think she knew who my father was?”

Fireheart blinked, suddenly recalling how Bluestar had said Snowstorm had never told her who Whitestorm’s father was. Obviously she had kept her nephew in the dark completely - but now he suddenly had to consider whether she had known all along. He thought back through his interactions with her, knowing he had to choose his words carefully. Whitestorm already felt betrayed enough knowing that his mother had chosen such a sinister mate - even if Bluestar had known, it didn’t seem fair to cause a rift in her relation with her only Thunderclan family over this.

“She never said anything to me directly.” Fireheart said at last, hoping to at least partially ease Whitestorm’s fears. “Whenever it came to Brokentail, she never seemed torn or hesitant regarding him. She’s our leader, of course, and she’s often hard to read, but I think she would have had at least a heartbeat’s hesitation when it came to discussing his fate if she knew he was your father. I think she suspected that your father was Shadowclan, or may have outright known, but I don’t think she knew which cat specifically.”

“There were several handsome young toms around Brokentail’s age in Shadowclan at that time.” Yellowfang added in, though he couldn’t tell if she was trying to be helpful or not. “Spiderfoot, Mousefang, Deerstrike, plus Clawface and Stumpytail. Maybe not Spiderfoot, since you don’t have his paws, but the rest of them could’ve been suspect.”

Whitestorm nodded slowly, taking in what the other two were saying. His breathing began to steady at last as he considered their words. “I see.” He finally murmured at last, barely loud enough for them to catch. “I see.”

“Whitestorm, I- I am sorry I didn’t tell you.” Yellowfang stepped forward gingerly, her copper eyes locked on her grandson as he slowly gained his composure. “I thought you would be better off if you didn’t know. But then you asked me, and I-” She cut herself off, clearly searching for the right words. “All this time, I have regretted my choice. I wish I had never taken Brokenkit back to camp. I wish I had had the courage to stay on my path, instead of trying to have the best of both lives. I thought Brokentail had brought the Clans nothing but grief, pain, and death.”

“But then… But then Fireheart told me about you. My grandson.” Even despite the tension in the air, Fireheart could hear the whimsical joy in her voice. “Despite all the suffering he caused, he left the world one gift - one beautiful, precious gift. A warrior that is wise, and strong, and kind - everything that Brokentail could never be.” She let out a hollow laugh that sounded a bit more like a sob. “It’s selfish of me, I know. I broke the code. I don’t deserve to even look at you, but I- You are everything that I wanted in a son. That is why I wanted to spend every moment I could giving you the love that I could never give my son.” She stared at him, her mouth working as she tried to find more words to explain, but there were none. “I don’t ask for forgiveness, but I- I hope you understand.”

Whitestorm was silent for a long moment, staring off into the distance as Yellowfang watched him pleadingly. At last he looked back in her direction, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. “I understand.” He mewed at last, though the words sounded forced. “I really do. But I… I think I need some time to think right now.”

“Please-” Yellowfang lunged forward, but Fireheart was there to stop her before she could reach her grandson. “Please don’t go! I’m sorry- I didn’t want to hurt you-!”

Whitestorm took a couple tottering steps away as he got to his feet. “I know.” he replied simply. “I know you didn’t. I understand what you’re saying, and I am not mad at you, but I- I need some time alone.” His voice sounded strained and monotone, as though the senior warrior didn’t really mean what he was saying.

“Let him go, Yellowfang.” Fireheart murmured, softly enough that only she could hear. “Remember how you reacted when I told you he was your grandson? You needed time to think then, and you weren’t mad at Whitestorm or me, were you?”

For another few heartbeats, the old healer strained against his shoulder, and he worried she hadn’t listened to him. Then she slumped back, suddenly defeated. “I- you’re right.” She replied just as quietly. “I- I’ll see you back at camp?” Yellowfang offered as Whitestorm began walking off. 

His only answer was a flick of his tail as he disappeared into the bushes.

The silence seemed to echo in the woods, filling Fireheart’s ears. At last Yellowfang turned to the ginger deputy, her face wrought with pain. “Oh, Fireheart… I messed that all up, didn’t I?”

He wished he could reassure her, but they both knew he couldn’t speak for Whitestorm now. “You did the best you could.” He replied at last, though he could hear how weak that sounded. “That may not be enough, but I think Whitestorm will recognize that. And I know he will hold to his word. Things may never be the same between the two of you, but it’s still better than never speaking to him again.”

His words did seemingly little to comfort Yellowfang as she turned away with a heavy sigh. “We better get back to camp. Dewpaw will be wondering where I am.” Her dark gray paws seemed to drag against the ground as she began leading the way back to camp. Fireheart followed her, his own heart suddenly a knot. He’d only been trying to help, but now he was afraid he had made everything worse. He’d been so sure he could handle this, but he’d messed up, just like he seemed to mess up everything else. How could he hope to handle an entire Clan when he couldn’t even get a grandmother and grandson to be on friendly terms?

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 34

Chapter 33 || Index || Chapter 35

Bluestar didn’t acknowledge Fireheart gawking at her, instead glaring furiously at her deputy. “Well, Tigerclaw?” She prompted, her voice laced with a potent venom as her tail tip twitched in an all too familiar manner.

“You - but - how?” Fireheart stammered out in shock. He had seen her body, her blood spilled all over the floor of her den. No cat could survive that - not even Tigerclaw, he was sure. She should be dead. She had been dead. How was she standing before them, alive?

She chuffed as though someone had said a funny joke, but there was no joy in her irate blue gaze. “You miscounted, Tigerclaw. That was not my last life.” She stated flatly. “You can try again, if you think you can kill me before my warriors can reach you. But are you sure that will be my last life? Or the one after that?” She shook her head wryly. “It’s really a shame. You could have been a great leader one day.”

Tigerclaw stared at her, his own eyes wide with shock. Then he turned to Fireheart, amber eyes glittering dangerously. “You!” He spat, bunching up his muscles to pounce. “You’ve ruined-”

The ginger tom jumped back in surprise as a golden presence seemed to materialize next to him. “Don’t even think about it, Tigerclaw.” Lionheart snarled, his eyes even with the other giant tabby tom. “You’ve lost.”

Whitestorm stepped up in front of his aunt, his golden eyes blazing. “After everything that’s happened, I truly thought you had changed.” The mighty white warrior snarled to the tom that had grown up beside him. “I was willing to believe that perhaps Starclan had seen something in you that would lead Thunderclan to greatness. But they hadn’t. Redtail was trying to warn us.” He shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the traitor before him. “I should have believed him.”

“Does this mean everything Fireheart said was true?” Fireheart glanced back at the crowd to see Dustleap shaking like a leaf as he stared at his blood-soaked father. 

“All of it.” Tinyfrost confirmed from Tigerclaw’s other side, his icy blue eyes narrow as he looked over the crowd. “There’s only one liar here, and that’s Tigerclaw.”

“You should believe him.” Peppermask pushed her way through the crowd to come stand by her friend, pressing against him reassuringly. “I heard everything he did from Ravenspirit and Riverclan. Tigerclaw killed my father, he killed Redtail - and he would have murdered his way to leadership, if it wasn’t for Fireheart.”

Stunned silence hung in the air as the Clan absorbed this news. He could clearly see each cat grappling with the world-shattering revelations that had just been uncovered. It had been hard enough for him and the others to understand, one bit at a time. To have it be revealed all at once - as much as he hated it, he understood their disbelief.

Part of him briefly thought about adding more secrets onto the pile - like that Ravenspirit was alive, or that Whitestorm was Brokentail’s son. But they weren’t truly his secrets to reveal, and in any case, they had enough to deal with in punishing Tigerclaw.

“So what now?” He blinked in surprise as Halftail spoke. Of all the cats, he seemed to be the least surprised by what had just transpired. Or perhaps, Fireheart reasoned, Halftail was just choosing not to show his surprise to everyone else.

Bluestar stepped forward, her blue eyes glittering dangerously. “Do you have any last words, Tigerclaw?” She asked bluntly as she watched her deputy seethe angrily. 

He was quiet for several heartbeats, and Fireheart looked on with worry. Was Tigerclaw going to lash out now that his plans had gone awry? “Fine. If you all want the truth, I’ll tell you the truth.” The murderer growled, glaring out at the crowd in front of him. “The truth is that this Clan has grown soft. Never before would an enemy warrior have seen the inside of our camp like this, yet under Bluestar’s command it has now happened three separate times.” 

His tail lashed angrily as he surveyed the Clan. “We have been weakened by constantly accepting soft, lazy kittypets as warriors instead of sending them to where they belong. We fight in wars that don’t concern us and take in any random stray we find. Under my command, we could become a formidable Clan, one that truly follows the code instead of bending it to our whims.” He shrugged and lapped at one shoulder nonchalantly. “The only question is whether this Clan is brave enough to accept that.”

There was a moment of silence as the Clan pondered what he had just said. “So if Fireheart is a soft, lazy kittypet, then what does that make you after he beat you?” Cinderspark shouted from where she was sitting near the back. “Just curious, is all.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched in amusement. Despite the shock of it all, it seemed Cinderspark wasn’t about to let it break her. And while he would normally disapprove of her blase attitude in the face of such a serious affair, he could see the Clan beginning to relax at her words.

"You're wrong, Tigerclaw." Fireheart's tail bristled in shock as Longtail stood up out of the crowd now, taking a few steps forward to stare directly into his hero's dark glare. "It's not kittypets that have weakened this Clan. It's you."

All eyes were on the lanky tabby as he stood nearly nose-to-nose with the mighty warrior that he had looked up to for so long. "I admired you, Tigerclaw. For a while, I thought you were the pinnacle of what every warrior should be - brave and strong, always willing to fight for what the Clan needs in a heartbeat. But I was wrong. Any cat can be big and tough, even rogues like Brokentail and Spiderfoot. That's not what makes us warriors."

"Redtail understood that. He knew that being a warrior was about doing what's right and following the code, no matter the cost. He cared for every cat in this Clan, because he knew that it wasn't strength that made us a Clan - it was our bonds. He was the greatest cat that this Clan has ever had, and you killed him." He shook his head in bitter disbelief as tears welled in his eyes. "Just like you killed Quickflash. My brother was a good cat. Just like Redtail, he cared for this Clan. He wanted to see us all thrive, no matter our origins. I know he would have made a good leader - and you even agreed with me. You told me you were certain the day would come when he got his nine lives. Were you already planning to kill him then? Did you know you were lying to me?"

He took a ragged breath in and out, trying to maintain his composure. "They're two of the greatest cats this Clan will have ever had, and you killed them. For what? The good of Thunderclan?"

"I-"

"Don't even try to lie to me." Longtail was up in Tigerclaw's face with a snarl, his pale eyes blazing brighter than Fireheart's pelt. "Thunderclan has lost two of its best warriors because of you - a loss that we will never be able to recover from. If you hadn't killed Redtail, we could have Sunningrocks back. If you hadn't killed Quickflash, Willowbranch would be carrying a new litter - a litter of strong, forestborn warriors. But that doesn't matter to you, does it? The only thing you can think about is yourself."

"Well, I can tell you one thing, Tigerclaw." The lithe warrior stepped back, even as his unsheathed claws clearly itched for the blood of his former idol. "It's not blood that makes a cat a good warrior. It's their passion, their desire to do right by the Clan. There are so few warriors like that these days - but Fireheart is one of them. He follows the code far more than you ever have. He may have been born a kittypet, but he is a warrior now - more of a warrior than you could hope to be. In fact, when it comes to kittypets - I'd say you're more like your father than Fireheart ever was."

Tigerclaw roared with fury as his longtime follower spat the last sentence in his face, leaping forward with claws extended to force Longtail to take his words back. Before he could touch the younger tom, however, Tinyfrost was underneath him and shoving him away into Lionheart, who grabbed the once-respected deputy by the scruff and pulled him roughly down into the dirt once more.

Longtail sat back down next to Darkstripe, glancing at the black tabby as though expecting him to agree, but his black ears perked in shock as the other tom pulled away with a disgusted sneer. "I didn't realize you were so short-sighted, Longtail." Darkstripe growled, catching the attention of any cat that hadn't been looking at them. "Redtail, Quickflash - their deaths were tragic, yes, but they were just means to an end. Tigerclaw knew this. Tigerclaw understands that a Clan needs a strong paw to guide them."

Longtail looked horrified as his dark companion stood up and padded over to nuzzle under Tigerclaw's chin - a gesture of obedience that the giant tabby accepted. "You're all fools if you can't see how Tigerclaw could lead this Clan to glorious new heights, free from the disease that festers at its core! We could rid ourselves of the kittypet filth that poisons us-" Darkstripe shot a pointed glare at Fireheart and Tinyfrost- "and grow powerful enough that all the Clans would fear us as they would any true ruler! We-"

With a single paw, Whitestorm thrust Darkstripe's head to the ground, his jaw slamming painfully against the earth. "Be quiet, you. The only filth we'll be ridding this Clan of is you and your mentor." The black-striped tom squirmed beneath the mighty warrior's paw, but it wasn't until Whitestorm let go that he was able to rise, spitting out dust and pebbles.

"At least one of you has some sense." Tigerclaw rumbled, shooting a disdainful look at Whitestorm, which was readily returned. "Which of the rest of you will be bold enough to join me? Sandstorm, my dearest daughter?"

Silence stretched between them as Sandstorm regarded the traitor for a long moment. At last, the pale ginger molly stood and padded soundlessly towards her father. Fireheart's heart dropped. Sandstorm loved her father, he was sure, but surely now that she knew who he was she wouldn't dream of-

"I remember when my brother and I were kits." She mewed softly, quiet enough that Fireheart had to strain to hear it from behind Lionheart. "I remember the pride I felt knowing that my Papa was deputy of the whole Clan - how he assured me that one day, I could follow in his pawsteps, if I committed to being a great warrior that Thunderclan deserved. I remember how he brought me my favorite freshkill when I got sick, even though it was leafbare. I remember how he used to play mossball with me, how he held me close and purred when I had nightmares, how he scolded me when I got into a fight with Dust. He was deputy, but he always made time for us."

"Even as apprentices, he loved us. He was hard on us, but it was only because he wanted to see us succeed even beyond him. The way he wouldn't stop telling everyone when I caught my first prey, I knew he was proud of us." Sandstorm's green eyes were blazing with fury, a fury that seemed to almost match the way Tigerclaw had looked at Fireheart when he realized his plans had been ruined. "Redtail was my father - my Papa - and you killed him. You killed him, and you lied about it, and you made me think-"

She cut herself off, swallowing down whatever words she had been about to say. "When I saw Papa's body, my life was shattered. The only solace I had was that his murderer was dead, that at least Papa could rest in Starclan knowing that he was avenged. And this whole time, his murderer has lied to me, over and over - and now he dares to call himself my father?"

A brilliant flash of crimson lanced through the air as Tigerclaw jerked back with a hiss. Fireheart realized belatedly that Sandstorm was holding her paw up, her claws dripping with the dark tabby's blood - she had moved so fast, his eyes hadn't even registered her strike. "You call Fireheart soft - and you might very well be right, because Fireheart let you live. He has shown you a mercy that I never will. If you ever dare to show your face to me again, I will inflict upon you the suffering that you deserve for each and every one of your crimes - the suffering you have escaped each day you lived instead of Papa. You will beg for Starclan to save you and I can promise you now, they will not answer."

All of the Clan looked on in stunned silence at her words, but if she noticed, she didn’t seem to be bothered. Instead, she turned around, her tail slapping into his face as she did so, and marched back to where she had been sitting by her apprentice and her brother. Tigerclaw dabbed at his nose with a paw, trying to appear unbothered. “Fine, then. And you, Dustleap? You have always been my most loyal son.”

Fireheart looked on as Dustleap trembled violently, shaking worse than a leaf on the Thunderpath. For a moment, he feared that the young tabby would collapse into the dirt beneath him from the shock - and yet, somehow, the tom took one quivering step forward, then another, until he too was in front of his father. "Father, I loved you. I trusted you. I- I would have done anything for you. You know that. You- You know that." Tears welled up in the tabby's pale eyes, making them shimmer like a puddle beneath the full moon. "I would have died for you."

He took a stuttering breath, as though his body was rejecting the need for air. "But Redtail was my father too. And Quickflash was - he was my mentor, Father. I thought you trusted him. He was a good warrior. They both were. But- But you killed them? You killed them. They followed the warrior code - they did everything right - and you killed them. Just as - just like you would have made us kill Ravenspirit."

Dustleap's eyes searched his father's for answers, but Fireheart knew he would find no answers from the murderer that would satisfy him. "Did you kill him too?" Dustleap asked, his voice breaking from the strain. "How many have died because of you? How many would have died because of you, if you did become leader? Would - would you have me killed too?"

Tigerclaw shook his broad head slowly. "Dustleap, you misunderstand. You are my favorite son, I would never-"

"Because your other son is dead!" Fireheart was shocked by the volume with which the warrior howled, his every word filled to the brim with grief and pain. "If it weren't for me following your orders, Fireheart and Graystripe wouldn't have taken him with them to fight Brokentail. He wouldn't have died - he could still be alive! But he's dead! He's dead, and he- he died thinking I hated him!" He took another shuddering breath, his whole body wracked by sobs. "And he was right. I did hate him, because you lied."

They stared at each other, silent except for the tears Dustleap was barely choking back. "I would have followed you anywhere, Father. I thought you were the greatest warrior to ever live in these Clans. You made me believe that. But that was just one of the many lies you told, wasn't it?" Dustleap looked over every inch of his father's face, trying to find a crack in the stony facade - but there wasn't one. "Avenging Redtail, honoring Quickflash, serving the code - I don't think you've ever told me the truth once. Not even-" He swallowed at the air, trying to gulp down enough to finish speaking. "Not even when you said you loved me."

At last he turned away, his piece apparently said, but he had only made it a pawstep before looking back. "Sandstorm's right. You're not our father. If I see you again, I will kill you - I will kill you, and you will deserve it." He looked away and then up at the branches covering camp. "And Ravenspirit, I- I am so, so sorry."

Fireheart watched, his heart suddenly aching for Dustleap as he limped back to his sister and almost collapsed against her irate, rigid form. For so long, Fireheart had looked upon the temperamental tabby with annoyance at best - and hatred at worst. He had been reckless, arrogant, and volatile, but he had at his heart wanted to serve the Clan, just as Fireheart had - just as he thought his father had. To look at him now, he seemed almost broken - not so different from when Fireheart had first met Ravenspirit, so long ago. He had never thought of them as brothers before, but seeing the pain that had been inflicted upon both of them by Tigerclaw made him suddenly appreciate their similarities.

“Enough of this, Tigerclaw.” Bluestar stepped forward now, her tail lashing once to punctuate her sentence. “You and Darkstripe are hereby exiled from Thunderclan for your crimes.” The leader announced, her eyes narrowing as she looked down her nose at both of them. “You will leave our territory at once. And if you ever dare to step foot on Thunderclan land again, all warriors have my express permission to kill you.” She whipped around to pointedly turn her back on them. “Now get out of my sight.”

For a second, he thought that Tigerclaw might not leave, or that he might even try to finish the job. Then he stood and stretched, as the crowd jeered and hissed at him. “Fireheart.” He growled, turning to glare at the cat that had beaten him. “You had best watch every step you make. You may think you’ve won today, but know that I will be back one day. I will wait in the shadows, however long it takes for you to drop your guard. I know every whisker-length of this territory, and I will get what I deserve. I promise you that.”

The ginger tom flattened his ears angrily at the now-exiled deputy. “Oh, I’ll make sure you get what you deserve, if Starclan doesn’t get to you first.” He growled back, tail lashing. “Now are you going to leave willingly, or will I have to drag your body to the Thunderpath myself?”

Tigerclaw’s tail bristled at his retort, but he didn’t answer as he padded to the bramble tunnel entrance. Darkstripe followed him, casting one last glare over his shoulder before the two disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Fireheart turned to Bluestar, mouth open to ask her a question, but didn’t get a chance before she stumbled to one side. Whitestorm caught her before she could fall, his golden gaze worried. “Bluestar?” He rumbled softly. “How many lives did Tigerclaw take?”

The leader’s eyelids fluttered for several heartbeats as she fought to keep herself on her paws. “Two.” She mumbled to her nephew, though the word seemed impossibly hard for her to speak.

“She needs rest.” Lionheart stated firmly, coming up on the other side of Bluestar to support her. “Let’s get her to the nursery for now. It’ll have the largest beds for her to recover in, while we…” He glanced back at the leader’s den, which had several sets of bloody pawprints coming out of it. Including, Fireheart realized as he looked down at his paws, his own.

As soon as the two toms had moved off, supporting Bluestar between them, the rest of the Clan crowded around Fireheart. “How long have you known Tigerclaw was a murderer?” “Did Bluestar know about all this?” “What else did Ravenspirit tell you before he died?” “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

The questions swarmed over him, and his head was beginning to spin as the events of the day suddenly came pouring over him. “That’s enough!” He blinked as Peppermask pulled away from his side to shout everyone down. They quieted as she turned to examine him. “Those are some serious wounds that Tigerclaw gave you. You need to go see Yellowfang before you bleed out. I’ll answer everyone’s questions.”He sighed in relief, glad that he didn’t have to go over everything again. “Thank you, Peppermask.” He purred, briefly resting his tail on her flank in a show of appreciation before turning and padding for the healer’s den. 

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 43

Chapter 42 || Index || Chapter 44

The journey to Sunningrocks was long, but it gave Fireheart time to think, and to worry. What if Riverclan wasn’t there? The Clan was already close to mutinous without him bringing three enemy kits back to camp. His actions were easily justified by the code, but there were surely those in the Clan that thought they were better off with less Riverclanners. 

And what would Riverclan think? Would they believe that the kits had been stolen? Relations were already tense with them, and while things had eased these last moons now that Graystripe wasn’t crossing the border every morning, evening and night, this surely would complicate matters. Ivyskip, their mother, must be out of her mind with worry, afraid that they had drowned in the river. He knew how fiercely a mother cared for her kits - and how she would fight if she thought they were in danger. If she saw them right now, would they get a chance to explain before Riverclan attacked?

Though he tried not to worry about it, instead focusing on taking the steadiest path through the forest, his mind kept looping back around to it. Images flashed through his mind of Leopardflame yowling at him, of Crookedstar nose to nose with Bluestar, of Graystripe and Silverstream-

Thunderclan couldn’t afford a war with Riverclan right now. There were so few warriors, and he wasn’t sure he could trust all of them - least of all himself - in a battle against the other Clan. There was Bluestar to contend with as well, the once great leader barely leaving her nest without his or Yellowfang’s prodding. If they went to war, Thunderclan would lose, he was sure of it, and it would be just one more criticism that the elders would have of his being deputy.

He slowed to a halt as he reached a familiar clearing - one in which, long ago, he’d seen Riverclan cats for the first time. He gently dropped Robinkit, the other two warriors doing the same behind him. He opened his mouth, about to mew instruction to the other warriors, but stopped when a gray striped tail slapped across his mouth. He blinked, staring bewilderedly at Peppermask, but she didn’t say anything, instead gesturing for him to be quiet.

Fireheart perked his ears, suddenly painfully aware of how close they were to the Riverclan border. Had she heard warriors coming? He pricked his ears, expecting to hear cats approaching, but the only thing he could hear was birdsong. He watched, his confusion growing, as she stalked away into the bushes, firmly in their own territory. Had she heard trespassers?

He was about to follow her when he heard a startled squawk, followed by the sound of a dozen wings frantically taking to the air. Peppermask returned with a bright smile, carrying a plump pigeon in her jaws. “I saw them as we approached.” She explained as she dropped it in front of the kits. “I didn’t want you scaring them off. No point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

Though his heart was still racing from the thought of an approaching threat, he had to agree with her reasoning. “That seems sensible.” He admitted, trying to calm himself down. “Hey, have you kits ever-”

He startled as he looked down at the kits, who were tearing into the bird with a ferocious zeal that made him feel a little nervous for his own hide. “Hey, don’t- don’t choke on the feathers, please.” He warned them, though he wasn’t entirely sure they heard him as they continued crunching into the carcass.

He hadn’t noticed before, with too much else on his mind, but he realized now how skinny the three kits were. Between his and Peppermask’s hunting, not to mention Yellowfang’s help, Princess’ kits were pudgy, bordering on fat. It felt unnatural to see these kits, almost skin and bones, now ravaging the prey set in front of them. How long had it been since they ate? Surely they hadn’t starved this badly from a single day of adventure - this was at least a quarter-moon without eating, maybe more. 

When he looked at Peppermask, he expected to see surprise on her face, but she was just watching them with sadness. “I could feel Dawnkit’s spine when I picked her up. That’s why I- I couldn’t let them go back, and find out later that they’d starved to death…” She explained softly to him when she saw him watching.

“The river is Riverclan’s main source of food, and it freezes over in leafbare. Most of the prey in the lowlands goes into hibernation, too.” Graystripe mumbled from his other side. “That’s why they get so fat in leaf-fall; they need all the food they can get to survive leafbare. They try to have kits in newleaf, when the fish return, so that they’ll have plenty to eat.”

Fireheart looked on, his heart aching as he watched the kits devour every last scrap of the pigeon. If the kits were this skinny, the part of the Clan that ate first, how was the rest of the Clan alive? What if they’d all perished in the floods, unable to summon the strength to swim-

No, he wouldn’t let himself think such thoughts. “Come on, you three.” He mewed, nudging them with his nose. They moved from the bones reluctantly, glancing back as though hoping they might spot a spare morsel that they had missed. “It’s time to get you back to your mother.”

They moved through what little bracken remained to look down on Sunningrocks. Just like the rest of the land close to the river, it was flooded, the normal stone floor vanished beneath the water. However, just as they’d hoped, some of the normal stone towers that made Sunningrocks so valuable were still a tail-length or more above the water. His heart soared as he saw cats moving around - dozens of them, an entire Clan’s worth.

He turned to the kits. “You three stay here for a moment.” He nodded the same to Peppermask and Graystripe before, with a deep sigh, wading a few tail-lengths out until the water was lapping firmly around his forelegs. “Riverclan!” He called, watching as the entire Clan’s head turned as one at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Is Ivyskip among you? We must speak with her.”

He could see some cats already bristling at him, ready to challenge him. He was technically intruding, although he hoped that they would see it was for a good reason, and he’d expected minor aggression at his appearance. He could hear talking, though not well enough to make out words or who was speaking, before several cats dove into the water and swam towards him, leaving the rest of the Clan on the rocks. They didn’t seem to be a battle patrol, at least, which was a good start.

He flicked his tail for them to follow him, then moved back to mostly dry land. “Come here. Let them see you, all of you. We don’t want them to think this is an ambush.” He mewed, the kits and warriors emerging from the bracken to stand beside him.

It was only heartbeats before the Riverclan cats were upon them, and he was grateful to realize he recognized most of them. Crookedstar was leading them, his jaw twisted up in an ugly scowl, while Leopardflame and Mistyskip flanked him. Behind them was a tortoiseshell queen he didn’t recognize - Ivyskip, if he had to guess.

“My kits!” His thoughts were confirmed as the queen raced past him as soon as she could stand, enveloping them all in her still-dripping embrace. “You’re safe! Oh, Starclan, thank Starclan you’re all safe…”

Crookedstar’s green gaze warmed slightly as he watched the family reunite. “And how, might I ask, did Thunderclan come by three of Riverclan’s kits?” The leader asked, his gaze narrowing to glare down at Fireheart. He steadied himself, not wanting to seem afraid and guilty. They had done nothing wrong rescuing these kits; he would not let Thunderclan be blamed.

He opened his mouth to reply. “They stole them from us! They must have!” Leopardflame spat before he could speak, her spotted pelt rising as she advanced on the three young Thunderclanners. “They’ve been nothing but trouble for us all of leafbare! First with the prey-stealing, and then-”

“We didn’t steal them!” Fireheart snapped back before she could finish. “We were out to survey the extent of the flooding near the Owltree when we heard kits calling for help. The branch they were on broke apart in front of us, so we rescued them before they could drown.”

“Really? You expect us to believe that?” The deputy straightened up to her full height with a hiss, though Fireheart suspected that if he tried he would be taller than her. “As if Thunderclan cats would ever get their paws wet!”

“Leopardflame.” Mistyskip mewed, casting a disdainful glance at her deputy as she stepped up beside her uncle. “Look at their bellies. They’re soaked with water, all of them, which could only happen if they were submerged in water, and not just traveling in the rain. They have been swimming, and recently.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Leopardflame spat back, her eyes blazing furiously at the senior warrior that had dared to talk back to her. “If you’re so smart, then explain how they could find our kits near the Owltree, far upstream from camp!”

The silver molly looked unsettled at the deputy’s retort. Fireheart stepped forward to interrupt them before she could hazard a guess. “I think that might be answered by the kits themselves.” He turned to them, shivering and hugging their mother as tightly as possible. “Go on, then.”

The kits stared at him with wide, anxious eyes, and suddenly he felt fear strike his heart. They had to tell the truth, or Riverclan would be furious with them! After all that the three warriors had done for the kits…

Peppermask crouched down, her belly brushing the wet pebbles below. “Hey, you guys don’t want us to get in trouble for saving you, do you? Just tell them what you told us.” She mewed gently to the three.

Tears welled in Aspenkit’s eyes, but he slowly nodded and pulled away from the tortoiseshell queen. “We- we wanted to see the gorge for ourselves. But Dad wouldn’t take us, and- so we snuck out. We’re sorry! We didn’t know-”

“Shh, darling. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Ivyskip gently hushed her son and pulled him back against her again. “I believe them. Why would these Thunderclanners steal our kits just to bring them back?” She looked up with warm green eyes, bowing her head to each of them. “Thank you, all of you. You risked your lives to save my kits. I will never forget your kindness.”

Fireheart nodded back, even as exhaustion began to creep over him once again. “I’m just glad we were able to bring them back home. And I’m sure they’re glad, too.” He replied, turning back to the other three Riverclanners. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, but I assure you, not a single Thunderclanner is interested in stealing your kits. We already have enough trouble dealing with our own.”

Crookedstar’s whiskers twitched slightly at his words. “Well, in that case, Riverclan is grateful that you rescued them. I know it is not an easy task to swim in these floodwaters; doubly so for a cat not accustomed to swimming at all.” As he spoke, a spark lit in his gaze. “Say, Mistyskip, didn’t you mention something about rescuing a ginger Thunderclanner from the river a few moons ago?”

Fireheart’s ears flattened bitterly at the memory, and he was sure Graystripe was doing the same behind him. “Yes, Uncle. Him and the tom behind him were the very two Silverstream and I rescued.” Her blue eyes met his with a mischievous twinkle. “I’m glad to see that you two have learned how to swim since then.” 

He growled wordlessly in response, but she didn’t seem to take heed as she trotted past him to where Ivyskip was still holding her kits tightly. “Let’s get them up on the rocks. Leopardflame, if you would?”

The spotted deputy’s scowl worsened as she moved past the Thunderclan cats, gingerly picking up Robinkit before turning and leaping gracefully into the floodwaters. The three mollies were gone in mere moments with their charges, leaving only the Riverclan leader and the Thunderclan cats standing on the shoreline.

As Crookedstar turned away, presumably to follow them, Fireheart noticed how visible the leader’s hips were - not unlike, he realized, how Tallstar had been when they had led the Windclanners back home. He felt Graystripe and Peppermask tensing up beside him, and he knew they were thinking the same. “Crookedstar, may I speak to you for a moment?” He mewed quickly.

The normally muscular tabby turned back, his eyes wary but not hostile, as he regarded them with suspicion. “You have my attention.” The leader replied with a small courteous dip of his head.

“Let me be honest with you, Crookedstar.” The tabby’s tail tip twitched slightly as Fireheart spoke, but he nonetheless inclined his head slightly in agreement. “On the way here, Peppermask happened to catch a bird. She’s a good hunter; one of our best.” He glanced slightly to see her whiskers twitch as she acknowledged the praise, but he could see the worry etched clearly on her face. “We didn’t get a chance to decide what to do with it when the kits devoured it.”

Crookedstar sighed heavily and sat down, unbothered by the water that lapped around his paws. “I apologize for them. Kits can be impulsive, sometimes, and they must have been hungry from their little adventure. I promise you-”

“This wasn’t a matter of simple hunger. Those kits were starving. They cleaned those bones faster than a cat can lash their tail.” He could see the large tabby’s muscles tense up as he spoke. “You and I both know the warrior code says that kits must be fed first, and I don’t think those kits had eaten in the past quarter-moon. If they haven’t eaten, what about the rest of your Clan?”

The Riverclan leader’s scowl had returned as he glared at the presumptuous young Thunderclanner. “Perhaps you’re still unfamiliar with how the Clans work. Most warriors would consider it a grave offen-”

“I know that pointing out such weaknesses in another Clan is considered the highest of insults. But I also have to think that if those kits had had enough to eat, that they might not have needed our rescuing at all.” Fireheart took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew what he was thinking was essentially breaking the code. He also knew that if he didn’t speak up, he would never forgive himself. “If we hadn’t given them food, I’m not certain they would have lived through another quarter-moon. And now your lands are flooded, and you’ve admitted yourself that flood waters are difficult to navigate. You won’t be able to hunt until the flood subsides, and who knows when that will be?”

He could see Crookedstar’s lip curling as he listened to Fireheart speak. “Is there a point to this?” The other tom growled.

“There is, Crookedstar.” He dipped his head respectfully, though he was sure it didn’t feel like it to the tabby tom. “Now that newleaf has come, prey is returning to the forest. Many in Thunderclan have full bellies. Even though some of our best hunting territory is underwater, we can still spare prey, if it will ensure your Clan’s survival.”

The Thunderclan deputy and Riverclan leader stared at each other, gauging each other’s moods. Fireheart didn’t shy away from the other’s gaze; he meant every word he had said, even if it was tantamount to treason. “You claim that you are familiar with how the Clans work, and yet what you’re suggesting to me is antithetical to the very foundation of the Clans.” Crookedstar’s tone was carefully measured as he regarded the flame-colored deputy. “What will you ask for in return, hmm? Nothing comes without a price, and I will not indebt my Clan to yours when we are-”

“We ask for nothing. It was us, as you’ll recall, that traveled to bring Windclan home. We did not ask them for territory or prey then either. I don’t want Thunderclan to gain territory by exploiting the weakness of the Clans around us; if we are to expand our borders, it will be through battles with honorable warriors, as Starclan intends.” Even as he said it, he could tell Crookedstar was still skeptical. He wasn’t able to hold it against the other tom; he was certain that if Tigerclaw was speaking the same words, that he would absolutely intend to eventually use the favor against Riverclan. “Be honest with me, and with yourself, Crookedstar; if you cannot find prey by tomorrow, how many in your Clan will die of starvation?”

The tabby’s pale green eyes fell to the water he was sitting in, and he knew instantly that Crookedstar was picturing gaunt faces staring at him from the rocks. Had cats already died? “Be that as it may,” Crookedstar admitted with a heavy sigh, “the Clans have always survived independently. Starclan may - there will be those that go to greet them, but that is a warrior’s lot in life. I cannot burden my Clan to change that.”

“Perhaps it is not the duty of a warrior to care what happens to another Clan.” Fireheart answered readily, watching the leader’s proud stature even as his eyes were full of hunger, and his skin clung to his bones. “After all, the code tells us to care for our Clans above all else. But I have watched the code be used to defend driving out other Clans for the sake of one; I have watched the code be used to defend cold-blooded murder. Perhaps the code tells me that I should turn my back on Riverclan now, so that we can take Sunningrocks from the corpse of your Clan once the floodwaters go down. But I believe that being a warrior is about mercy as much as it is about strength, and so I will do what I can to alleviate your suffering, regardless of what the code says.”

They stared each other down for another long moment before Crookedstar’s eyes flicked to the two warriors behind him. “And what of you two? Do you agree with what your deputy says?” The leader asked dryly.

Fireheart didn’t dare look them in the eyes. “The code says that we cannot neglect a kit, no matter their origin.” He heard Peppermask mew behind him. “If we were to leave now to let your kits starve, then I think we would be breaking the code. If hunting for your Clan means that the kits will eat, and live, then it is my duty as a warrior to do so. Fireheart’s offer may be unconventional, but I believe he’s right.”

“Uh, yeah.” Graystripe mewed from his other side. “What my sister said.”

Crookedstar looked unable to believe his ears, his twisted jaw dropping slightly at their words. He looked down at his paws once again, seriously considering everything that had been said. “Perhaps you all have the bold-faced audacity to lie to my face.” He said at last, looking back up into Fireheart’s eyes with a vulnerable honesty he hadn’t had before. “But there is only so much I can do to argue when my Clan is dying. We barely managed to escape the flood when it surged through our camp. Frogleap is still missing because of it. My duty is to protect my Clan, no matter the cost. And whether the cost is Sunningrocks, or the river, or all of our lands; the code says that is a cost I must accept.” He looked away with another heavy sigh. “Very well. If Thunderclan should grant us some of their prey, then I will not - can not - turn it away.”

He wished he could convince the leader that his words were genuine, with no cost attached - but he knew better than to try. “We’ll be in the clearing behind us every day just after dawn. We’ll hunt for you until the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks.” He flicked his tail for the patrol to turn to leave. “Hopefully that day will come quickly.”

“Hopefully.” Crookedstar murmured, turning away from them and swimming back towards the rocks his Clan were huddled on without a further word. Fireheart turned away into the bracken as well, exhaustion from fighting the floodwaters and the task ahead creeping over him.

He had only stepped a few tail-lengths into the forest before Peppermask was whirling on him. “Are you mad?” She hissed - not angrily, he could tell, but from genuine fear. “How are you going to explain this to the rest of the Clan?”

He met her gaze evenly. He was past the point of caring what the Clan thought of him anymore - but he didn’t dare tell her that. “I won’t.” He replied simply, brushing past her to lead them back to camp. “They don’t have to even find out. How long can it be until the floods subside? A half-moon, maybe, or even a quarter-moon? If Graystripe could go moons without being caught having a Riverclan mate, I doubt anyone will even notice.” Even if they did, what would they do? The only cat that could exile him was curled up in her nest and could barely be prodded out. “I’m the deputy, after all. I can arrange the patrols to make sure no one’s ever around to find us. Besides, don’t you two pretend you didn’t want to offer the same thing.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it!” Still, he could hear her beginning to relax - his points made sense, after all. “Are you really planning on just the three of us doing this?”

“We’re both good hunters, and we have Graystripe to help as well.” Back when they were apprentices, that would have been a teasing joke, but there was no humor in his voice now. “That’s the size of an average hunting patrol. We could recruit others to help, but I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d trust to agree with what we’re doing and keep it a secret. We may not catch enough to feed their entire Clan, but hopefully it will at least be enough to keep them from starving.”

Peppermask was silent, clearly still trying to rationalize everything in her head. After a moment, he was surprised to hear Graystripe speak up. “I- Thank you, Fireheart. You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at the large tom behind him, keeping his eyes on the forest ahead. “I didn’t do it for you.” He responded.

“I know, but- still.” Graystripe didn’t have to say anything else - he already knew what the other was thinking. Kits, then queens, were fed first amongst all of the Clan. If the kits had been starving, then that meant that Silverstream had gone without food for just as long, if not longer, than they had. It was possible that if they didn’t help, she would have died. 

As much as he told Graystripe it hadn’t been for him, he couldn’t lie and pretend that hadn’t been in his mind when he had first offered to hunt for Riverclan. No matter what he thought of his former friend and his ill-fated romance, some small and sentimental part of him would never let Graystripe’s kits die. And though the task in front of them felt formidable to face down, he wouldn’t let fear stop him from doing the right thing.

At least, he hoped it was the right thing.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 42

Chapter 41 || Index || Chapter 43

Fireheart sat beneath the Highrock, watching as the rest of the Clan huddled beneath various trees and shrubs. Rain drizzled down from the sky, drenching the earth below. Even though it was close to sunhigh, the sky was still dark from the storm clouds hanging overhead, making it feel as though it was close to dusk. If it were bright daylight, the camp would be chattering as the Clan settled down to share tongues, but now most cats were focusing on huddling together and doing their best to keep dry. It made the camp feel dark and moody, as though something bad was going to happen, but he tried to keep his thoughts light as he sat there.

“Fireheart!” He startled as he heard his name called with an uncomfortable urgency, looking up to see Peppermask pelting into camp. He stood up immediately, a bolt of panic firing through him. She had been on the Riverclan border patrol. Why had she come back so late? 

“Peppermask! Where’s the rest of your patrol? Has something happened?” He felt fear rising in his throat at the thought of a Riverclan attack. Crookedstar hadn’t been belligerent at the last Gathering; why would he suddenly change tactics? Unless Graystripe had broken his promise… he shot a brief glare over to where the tom was sitting alone by the prison, one of the few spots sheltered by a tree within camp.

She blinked in surprise at his questions. “What? No, they were just-” She turned around to look behind her, just as Whitestorm’s snowy pelt emerged from the bramble tunnel. He breathed a sigh of relief as Sandstorm and Brightpaw followed the mighty warrior. “No, Fireheart, listen. The river breached its banks. It’s flooded so badly, it…”

“I haven’t seen it this bad in all my moons.” Whitestorm came to stand beside Peppermask, his brows furrowed as he spoke. “All of Riverclan’s land has been flooded, and many of our own border markers are underwater. We did what we could to mark what remains, but there wasn’t much.”

For a brief moment, he thought of Mistyskip, Graypool, and Silverstream. Was Riverclan alright? He cursed himself slightly for wondering. They were enemy warriors, and not his problem to deal with. And yet… “How much of our land is affected? Do you think our camp is in danger from the flooding?”

“The roots of the Owltree are submerged. There’s no way to reach the log bridge to the Gathering - if the waters haven’t already floated it away.” Peppermask reported grimly, her tail rattling nervously. “The flood waters haven’t reached that far up the stream that leads to camp, but if the water keeps rising, it could only be a matter of time.”

Whitestorm nodded beside her. “I would suggest a sentry be posted at the end of the ravine, where the stream starts to make its way to the river. If the flood waters start to make their way up to here, we’ll need time to evacuate.” 

Fireheart dipped his head. “That’s a good idea. As long as the rain continues, the waters will only keep rising.” He surveyed camp, looking for a suitable candidate for the first shift. “Dustleap! Come here for a moment, please.”

The brown tabby looked up from where he was huddling with Longtail, a brief distaste crossing his face before he diligently padded out to meet the deputy. “Yes, Fireheart?” He asked, a note of anger in his voice even as he dipped his head meekly in greeting.

“The river has flooded, and I’m concerned about the flood making its way to camp. We’ll need sentries posted to watch the waters and alert camp if it looks like the water will enter the ravine. Can you and Brackenpaw take the first shift? Find somewhere dry, up around the clearing at the end of the ravine.” He glanced to where the apprentices were sitting, doing their best to huddle under a small oak tree behind their den. He didn’t say it - didn’t want to say it - but even though the end of the ravine was only a few tree-lengths away, he feared for the safety of any cat sitting outside camp right now alone. No cat knew where Tigerclaw had gone, and that felt dangerous in and of itself.

Dustleap’s whiskers twitched as he considered it. “Of course, Fireheart. How long do you want us out there?” He asked calmly, flicking his ear irritably as a water droplet fell on it.

“Until dusk. I’ll send someone out to relieve you two then.” He flicked his tail to the fresh-kill pile, as soaked as it currently was. “Make sure to take some prey with you, as well. I doubt you’ll get a chance to eat until after you return.”

The dark tabby lowered his head in courtesy once more. “Thank you, Fireheart. We’ll keep a close watch.” With that, he quickly grabbed a squirrel and headed across camp to tell his apprentice their new assignment.

“What about you, Fireheart?” Whitestorm asked softly. “Do you want to call the Clan together and tell them what has happened?”

He hesitated and shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see the extent of the flooding for myself, first.” Fireheart flicked his tail at Peppermask. “Peppermask, why don’t you come and show me?”

His friend’s eyes widened briefly, but she nodded assent all the same. “Alright. We can try and catch some prey on the way back, if it hasn’t already drowned in the flood waters.” 

The two waved farewell to the senior warrior as they padded to the bramble entrance. “Fireheart!” Another voice called before they could leave. The two turned curiously to see who was calling. It was Graystripe, trotting hurriedly across camp towards them.

“Yes, Graystripe?” Fireheart did his best not to growl at the sight of his former friend. The large gray tom had been meek and compliant, staying out of his way ever since the night Fireheart had become deputy. This was the first time they had actually spoken since then, and he imagined he already knew why.

“Look, I- I heard Dustleap talking to Brackenpaw. You’re heading out to check the flooding, right? Do you- is it alright if I come with?” Graystripe’s yellow eyes were wide and pleading as he asked - begged, really - to join their patrol.

Fireheart felt his claws unsheathe slightly as the other tom spoke, his first instinct to tell the warrior to get out of his sight. But some part of him reconsidered. While Graystripe had been good and kept his head down, he had no doubt that the tom would immediately strike out to see the flooding on his own accord, even if Fireheart didn’t let him. Graystripe had been behaving, as well, keeping to camp more often in the past moon than he had the season before. Plus, the flood affected him, just like it did every other member of the Clan - if any other cat wanted to observe the floods, he would let them, so long as they were accompanied. It felt unfair to hold Graystripe to higher standards. “Alright. But if you so much as-”

“I won’t!” The repentant warrior crouched in grateful submission. “I’ll keep all my paws on our side of the border, and I won’t mew even a word to any Riverclanner without your permission. I just- I have to know-” He trailed off as he stood back up, the worry on his face saying more than he ever could.

“Good. Come on, then.” He nodded to Dustleap and Brackenpaw as the two approached, and the five cats left camp together, splitting up as they crossed the ravine for their respective patrols. As soon as they reached the stream that fed through the forest into the river, Fireheart could already see the issue - the stream was swollen to three times the size of what it usually was, bubbling lazily as it flowed slowly onwards.

The three young Thunderclanners followed it as it meandered through the forest, slowly swelling more and more the closer they came to the river. At last, Peppermask came to a halt and held her tail out to stop the other two. “We’re close to the Owltree, now. The water won’t be much further out.”

They padded forward cautiously, ignoring the rain falling on their fur. Normally the banks of the river were still many tree-lengths away, the entire area primarily scrubland and tall grasses, but he was willing to take Peppermask at her word. The air was beginning to brighten as they approached the edge of the treeline, with less foliage to shield them from the storm above. They didn’t let that stop them, instead cautiously poking through the last of the bracken to see beyond.

“Great Starclan.” He heard Graystripe whisper in astonishment. They were standing on the edge of a small cliff, but were less than a tail-length from the top of the flood waters. Before the flood, he would expect to see the marshy fields of Riverclan territory on the other side, but now there was no land - only water. And the waters themselves - instead of the rippling, clear water of the river he knew, there was just a blank expanse of dark, muddy depths that seemed almost frozen in place as the warriors stood there. 

“Is it even moving?” He wondered aloud, to which the other two shrugged at him. Looking around, he spied a small fallen branch, likely broken in one of the recent storms. Delicately grabbing it with his teeth, he gestured for the two to stand back before throwing it as far as he could into the flood waters below. The branch floated lazily away as the three of them looked on.

“I- Silverstream-” Graystripe paused, glancing guiltily at Fireheart, who only narrowed his eyes and gestured for the other tom to continue. “She said that the river floods whenever newleaf comes, and that they can’t hunt on the lands for a quarter-moon until it subsides. But she never - I don’t think she mentioned anything like this…”

“Riverclan’s not our problem.” Peppermask mewed, saying what he was thinking to himself. “But the flood is. Look at all that territory - those are good hunting grounds that the river has swallowed up. Who knows what state it will be in, after the water’s gone.”

Fireheart nodded as he pondered the situation. “We can’t have any cats falling in. I think… Peppermask, do you think Riverclan will take advantage of this?”

“Do you think we shouldn’t patrol the borders?” She replied, considering him with thoughtful green eyes. “I think Riverclan’s going to be too busy dealing with this to really bother us. But we should still have a daily patrol anyways, to see when the flood starts subsiding, or if…” She trailed off, glancing behind her, and he knew what she was thinking. What if the flood spread through the whole forest? Was such a thing even possible?

“That’s a good idea.” Fireheart mewed, sitting down and nodding to himself. “We’ll only have the late day border patrol, then, at least until the flood waters go down some. And only warriors, as well - cats that are strong enough to swim by themselves, without help.”

“I think that’s for-” Peppermask paused, raising her head and perking her ears as a frown crossed her face. “What’s that sound?”

The other two quieted, straining to hear what she was talking about. Not even the river was making noise; only the rain hitting the leaves above them, or the birds grumpily chirping about the miserable weather. For a moment, he thought perhaps she was thinking about hunting, but then he heard it; the faintest wailing.

“I hear it too.” The ginger deputy replied with a frown. What could be making that sound? “Maybe it’s the wind?” He suggested after a moment.

“Maybe.” Peppermask responded hesitantly, but her ears were still focused on the direction the sound was coming from, which seemed to be somewhere upstream. They were silent for another few heartbeats before she shook her head. “No, it’s getting louder. It- If I didn’t know better, it sounds like-”

She cut off, holding her breath, and Fireheart could feel himself do the same. The wailing was getting louder and louder; only heartbeats later, he realized he could make out words. “Mom! Dad! Anyone! Help us!” 

“That’s kits.” Graystripe gasped in horror. “Fireheart, where- what do-”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his question as something large rounded the bend in the river in front of them. His heart felt as though it skipped a beat as he realized what he was looking at - three kits were floating towards them on a broken branch, clinging desperately to it. They were young - two to three moons old, if he had to guess - and screaming their heads off. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?” He could hear one yowl over the rest.

The other two warriors looked instinctively to him, even as he felt frozen in place. “I- We can’t swim.” He glanced questioningly to Graystripe beside him, wondering if perhaps his time with Silverstream had taught him how, but the gray tom shook his head. “Maybe we could go fetch a Riverclanner? Surely they can’t be far, if-”

They all gasped as they saw the branch the three kits were on suddenly shudder and stop, as though it had hit something. Then it broke apart, and they plunged into the river.

“Fireheart- What are you-?” He didn’t even know why Peppermask was yowling until he felt a shock of cold all around him. He had jumped into the river, and was now kicking determinedly to keep himself afloat and swim towards where the kits had been. “Starclan above, I-”

He didn’t know what had caused her to stop talking until he heard one splash, then another, behind him. Though he didn’t stop to look, he already knew what had happened - his friends had thrown themselves into the waters to help. And while the water seemed almost deceptively still on the surface, he could feel the current pulling at him, threatening to tear him away. 

The kits bobbed up and down in the water as it pulled them, trying to keep their heads afloat, but they were still small - almost the same age as his niblings, he couldn’t help but think. They were too young to have learned to swim yet, and their muscles had barely developed. If he didn’t make it to them soon, he-

Horror seized him as one of them dipped below the water, coming up a moment later with a ragged gasp. He propelled himself towards it, reaching out and clenching it in his jaws. It tasted disgusting, like rancid fish and mud, but he didn’t let that stop him as he struggled to turn towards the shore. Gratefulness surged through him as he saw the two other Thunderclanners on his tail, drifting by him to snag the other two kits.

Now was the most difficult part - getting back to the shore. Already his limbs felt tired, and now he had an extra weight as well. But he couldn’t let himself stop now - if he did, then both he and the kit he was holding would drown. He lashed out, beating at the water with frantic paws as he tried to swim towards dry land.

The current felt as though it was trying to push him away from the shore, and each stroke he made seemed as though it wasn’t making any progress. He could see the shoreline moving in front of him as the floodwaters carried them downstream, and he tried not to let panic surge through him. He could make it. He would make it-

Relief washed over him as he felt something scrabble beneath his front paws, and with another kick he found himself on solid ground.The current still tugged at him, threatening to bowl him over, but he trudged forward with determination until at last he felt his paws rise out of the water and onto dry land.

He nearly fell to the ground, limp and exhausted, but forced himself to drop the kit and turn to see if his friends needed help. They had also managed to find the same shallow section of water, and clambered out alongside him. Once he was sure they were all safe, he allowed his legs to buckle and fall to the ground, shivering and shaking from the near death experience that they had all just gone through.

The kits huddled together as they stared, wide-eyed, at the three warriors in front of them. The largest of them was a dark gray tabby tom, while the other two were a pale gray and a little brown and ginger tabby. The river had washed away whatever Clan-scent they might have carried - all he knew for sure was that they weren’t Thunderclan, as only his niblings remained in the nursery.

“What are your names?” Peppermask finally asked. The three looked at her with the same silent stare that they had regarded him with, refusing to answer. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a small sigh before straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s rude of me to ask your names without giving you ours. My name is Peppermask; this is my brother, Graystripe, and my friend, Fireheart.”

The three kits stared unblinkingly at her, and Fireheart wondered if perhaps they were mute, or deaf like Snowkit. “I’m Aspenkit.” The largest of the kits finally mewed, to his relief. “And these are my sisters, Dawnkit and Robinkit.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aspenkit.” The gray tabby molly purred, though her voice was weak from exhaustion. Fireheart purred wordlessly beside her, grateful that at the very least, they had names for the kits - and that they seemed to be Clanborn, as well. That meant that they had a Clan they could be returned to. “You were calling for your Mom and Dad, weren’t you? Do you know their names?”

The three kits quickly conferred with each other. “The other queens call Mom Ivy… Ivystep?” Robinkit mumbled aloud.

“No, I think it’s Ivykit.” Dawnkit corrected her sister confidently.

“Is not! Mom’s not a kit!” Robinkit huffed, her little tail lashing angrily.

“You’re both wrong.” Aspenkit interjected with his own self-important authority.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s her name, know-it-all?” Dawnkit asked, the two little mollies glaring at their brother.

“I don’t-”

“I think they might be talking about Ivyskip.” Fireheart was grateful to hear Peppermask speak up before the three kits could get into a full blown fight over it. “She’s one of the Riverclan queens. I think Lilystem - that’s one of the other Riverclan queens - mentioned something about her having had kits with Frogleap a couple moons ago. But - I don’t understand. Riverclan camp is downstream from here. How did you three get all the way up here? Did Riverclan retreat to the moors, because of the flooding?”

The three lowered their heads shamefully at her question. “It’s my fault.” Aspenkit mumbled at last. “The warriors were talking so much about the gorge, how big and dangerous it was right now, and I wanted to see it for myself ‘cause I didn’t believe them. Dawnkit and Robinkit followed me. But then when we were coming back, it started raining, so we hid in a willow tree, but the waters just kept getting higher and higher and then Dawnkit fell in so we tried to rescue her and-”

“Shh, that’s enough.” Peppermask leaned out to lap the kit’s forehead reassuringly. “What matters right now is that you’re all safe. Is it just the three of you? Did you have any other siblings?”

The three shook their heads in tandem. “No. It’s only the three of us in the nursery right now. Mom says that’ll change when Silverstream has her kits, but-”

Fireheart could see Graystripe’s eyes glittering at the mention of Silverstream’s kits - his kits - and forced himself not to let his lip curl or his claws unsheathe. “That’s good, then.” He mewed quickly. “We don’t have to worry about rescuing any other kits. We just have to get these three back to their mother.” With a deep sigh, he glanced at Graystripe. “Where do you think Riverclan would be right now?”

The large tom hesitated. “I’m not sure. I know their camp is close to the river, so it’s probably been flooded. If they knew the flood was coming, they might have had time to get to the moors, or to Fourtrees, but-”

“The flood was so sudden. It wasn’t like this even last night. I don’t think they would have had the time to evacuate so far away.” Peppermask interrupted, her green eyes narrowed as she considered the question. “Maybe they’re at Sunningrocks? The elders’ tales say it used to be flooded, long ago, and that only Riverclan cats could get to them. That probably means that they’re taller than most of the flood waters, and we know that they’re close to Riverclan’s camp.”

“Wait, you aren’t Riverclan?” Aspenkit squeaked, his kit-blue eyes narrowing as he regarded them suspiciously. “But only Riverclan cats can swim!”

Fireheart sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re from Thunderclan.” 

The two mollies backed up as he spoke, but Aspenkit held fast and continued to glare at them. “But you’re not scary at all.” The little tomkit announced, his little tail lashing confidently. “Thunderclan warriors are supposed to be super huge, and only able to come out of the forest at night! That’s what Grampa Cedarpelt told us, and he’s super wise.” 

“That’s actually a myth. We’re able to come out of the woods when the sun isn’t in the sky… like right now.” Graystripe purred, getting up and stalking closer to the three kits. The two mollies shrieked, and even Aspenkit backed up a few tiny pawsteps. “And once we do, we love eating little Riverclan kits as snacks…”

“You stop that!” Peppermask huffed and smacked her brother with her tail, though even she couldn’t hide the smirk on her face as she did so. “Thunderclan cats are ordinary cats, just like any Riverclanner. And while we might not like to swim, we still can…” She considered them with a soft gaze - the same one she used whenever she watched Princess’ kits. “You kits are old enough to have learned some of the code, right? Do you know what it says about kits?”

“We get to be fed first!” Aspenkit yowled eagerly, having clearly forgotten his fear of them in his desire to be right.

“We have to be six moons old before we become apprentices?” Robinkit wondered aloud, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Peppermask purred warmly at the two of them. “You’re both right, but those aren’t the parts of the code I’m thinking of.” She focused on Dawnkit, who was hiding behind her brother. “What about you, Dawnkit? Can you tell me?”

She stared at Peppermask with wide, fearful blue eyes. “I-” She glanced at her siblings, who were clearly not afraid of the Thunderclan cats like she was, and stepped out from behind Aspenkit. “The- the code says you can’t hurt kits, no matter where they come from. That’s why you saved us, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Fireheart affirmed to the small, shy gray kit. “It is the duty of a warrior to protect all kits, regardless of Clan. We might be Thunderclan, but we wouldn’t be warriors if we allowed you to drown. We follow the code, always, and that means we’ll get you safely to your parents. I promise.”

He could see that his reassurance had comforted Dawnkit, if only a little bit. “Okay.” She mumbled at last.

“Will you allow us to carry you?” Peppermask asked the three kits gently. “Sunningrocks - if that is where your Clan is - is a long way from here. It will be faster if we can carry you - and safer for you, as well.”

Robinkit and Aspenkit immediately nodded their assent, but Dawnkit looked doubtful. “But what if they’re not there?” She asked Peppermask in a small voice.

The tabby molly’s shoulders slumped, but she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t at the forefront of all of their minds. “I… I guess you’d have to stay in our camp, for now. If they’re not at Sunningrocks, then they must have made it to the highlands, and there’s no way to reach those without crossing the river. And with the river as flooded as it is, I don’t think there’s any way to cross.” She sighed and dipped her head, seeing the trepidation in the kits’ eyes at her words. “It will only be for a half-moon, at most. If we can’t reunite you today, then we’ll bring you to the Gathering and give you to Riverclan then. But we’ll see them at Sunningrocks, I’m sure of it.”

Though her voice sounded confident and upbeat, Fireheart could tell she didn’t believe her own words. Luckily, the kits didn’t seem to notice. “Come on, Dawnkit! Stop worrying so much! Warriors always know what they’re doing!” Aspenkit purred, giving his sister a hearty nudge that almost sent her tumbling over.

“I… Alright.” Dawnkit mewed at last, before rushing over and wrapping herself around Peppermask’s paws. “But I want this one to carry me!”

“That’s fine.” Fireheart purred readily. Peppermask was the softest touch, in any case, and Dawnkit seemed the most fragile - he wouldn’t have made a different choice. “Graystripe, why don’t you take Aspenkit, and I’ll carry Robinkit?”

The other tom nodded and stepped forward to carry his charge, while the ginger deputy did the same. Though his fur still clung to him, sopping wet, he tried not to focus on it as he bounded off into the forest, the other warriors following behind him. It would be fastest to go along the river bank, but he didn’t want to risk any of them falling in again. It also gave him more time to prepare for whatever they might find at Sunningrocks - good or bad.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 36

Chapter 35 || Index || Chapter 37

Fireheart blinked awake to a darkened den, feeling rested even as his wounds stung bitterly beneath the cobwebs. He sat up with a yawn, glancing outside to see the sunlight had long since faded. Peppermask hadn’t come to get him, so it couldn’t yet be moonhigh. Part of him was tempted to remain in his nest, but Yellowfang had ordered him to return to her den by sunset for fresh bandages; he didn’t dare keep her any longer now that he was awake.

He stumbled to his paws, his head momentarily spinning as he did so. He would likely be feeling the effects of his fight with Tigerclaw for at least a half-moon, he reasoned, and so he would have to get used to moving slowly for the time being. With a gentle shake of his head, he made his way out of the den and into the camp clearing.

The ginger tom paused in the entrance as he heard loud murmuring all around him. He glanced around briefly, confused as to why his presence would have caused such a stir, but no cat seemed to be looking at him; instead, they were all staring at the empty Highrock.

Peppermask came out of the shadows near the den to stand by his side. “Fireheart. I was going to wake you at moonhigh, but…” She cast her eyes away, and he followed his friend’s gaze to where Lionheart and Whitestorm were sitting outside the nursery, discussing something with each other. “Bluestar is refusing to move. Whitestorm went in to tell her it was time to name a new deputy, and she sent him away!”

He bristled in shock as he glanced up to the sky above. The moon had well passed the highest point of its arc in the sky, and was now reaching towards the edges of the treeline. “But the code says-”

“I know. We all do.” The gray tabby shook her head in bewilderment. “No one knows what to do. Everyone’s listening to Whitestorm, at least for now, but he can’t succeed Bluestar if- if something else-”

She broke off with a shiver, and Fireheart quickly pressed comfortingly into her side. Even though they both had known that Tigerclaw was a code-breaker and killer, never would they have expected him to boldly allow a pack of bloodthirsty rogues into the heart of their camp so he could kill Bluestar. He couldn’t fault her for feeling the same loss of security that they all were. “Has this ever happened before? Perhaps there’s something in the code…” He trailed off, not sure what he was hoping for her to answer. Surely a deputy betraying their own leader was unprecedented.

They sat there in silence for a moment as she considered it. “Sometimes Starclan sends a sign for who the next deputy should be.” Peppermask mewed slowly, her eyes narrowed in heavy concentration. “It would be a healer that interprets their will, of course. If something were to happen to Bluestar with no deputy announced, then it’s possible Yellowfang or Dewpaw could appoint a deputy in her stead. Whether the Clan would accept that…”

He knew what she meant, even though neither said it aloud. Yellowfang was an outsider, a former Shadowclanner, and though no cat knew it besides him and Dewpaw she could no longer speak to Starclan. If she announced the new deputy - the new leader, if Bluestar died without a replacement - then there would be those that saw it as Shadowclan interference, even though he doubted it would mean a revolt. Meanwhile, Dewpaw was still only an apprentice, and while she had trained faithfully the elders would likely claim she was too young to be interpreting such an important sign, and their word held great weight within the Clan. 

He glanced at the healer’s den, wondering if either were inside, or if they were in the nursery trying to coax out Bluestar. He couldn’t see inside the dark rocky entrance to tell if any cats were moving within the den, and instead turned his gaze back to camp. He could see and hear cats all around camp discussing the same thing he and Peppermask were; the elders, in particular, looked nearly mutinous as they glared angrily at Lionheart and Whitestorm guarding the nursery entrance.

Even as they talked, no cat moved to try and challenge the two toms to access Bluestar. Every cat knew that she trusted the weight of Whitestorm’s word the most; if he hadn’t been able to get her to name a deputy, no cat could. As much as it pained Fireheart to sit by and watch, he knew there was nothing he could do but speculate. He didn’t control Bluestar; only Starclan could do that, now.

“What about Tigerclaw?” He asked at last, turning his attention to things he could control. “I know every cat did their best to teach the rogues a lesson, but if they come back now, while we’re still recovering…”

“Whitestorm already sent a patrol after him, a little while before sunset. He left across the Thunderpath with the rest of the rogues.” She curled her lip and looked away into the bramble wall surrounding camp, as though she could see all the way to the dark stone border. “We didn’t try to follow him beyond that.”

Though it troubled him to hear that they had so readily absorbed the traitor, he was glad to hear that they had at least departed the territory. Hopefully Tigerclaw wouldn’t return until they’d had a chance to strengthen their defenses. “I hope they stay gone.” He muttered as he surveyed the camp, taking stock of each cat. His eyes narrowed as he realized that one warrior in particular was missing. “I don’t see your brother.” He hissed quietly.

The molly’s green eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled at the mention of the gray tom. “I haven’t seen him since sunhigh. He told Tigerclaw he was going ‘hunting’.” They shared a glance, knowing full well what Graystripe had really meant by that. “I doubt he even knows that-”

There was a flurry of commotion by the nursery, and Peppermask cut herself off as the two of them turned to see Bluestar emerge from the well-defended brambles. The silver leader looked thin and gaunt, like a frail skeleton of a cat, as she shambled over to the Highrock. Around the clearing, cats slowly padded out to sit beneath its shadow, all eyes on their leader. There was no need to call them together, and she made no attempt to as she turned to face them.

Her eyes briefly swept over the crowd, but she seemed almost as though she was looking through everyone, like they were mere shadows in her path. “I will only say this once, so listen well.” Bluestar rasped, her voice barely audible even as a chilling hush had fallen over the clearing.

“I say these words before Starclan, so they may hear and approve of my choice.” Fireheart briefly glanced to the sky; though he could not see the stars through the foliage concealing camp, he knew that they were looking down on Thunderclan at that very moment. He looked back at Bluestar as she paused, wondering if he had missed her next words, but she was looking at her paws as though lost in thought. Had she forgotten who she was going to name?

The crowd began glancing uneasily at each other, the silence growing painfully tense as they waited for her to speak. Just as Whitestorm was stepping forward to stand by her side, she raised her head and he stilled.

“Fireheart will be the new deputy of Thunderclan.”

He blinked in confusion at the sound of his name. That couldn’t be right. He knew the code just as well as any warrior here; a warrior had to have at least one apprentice before becoming deputy. That automatically exempted him, as well as Willowbranch and her kits. “Bluestar, I-”

As he raised his head to meet the leader’s gaze, he realized that she was already gone, stumbling across camp with Whitestorm gently guiding her. He realized with a jolt that most of the cats were staring at him, and a great cacophony had started up while he was in his thoughts.

“Don’t lead her away!” It was Patchpelt snarling after Whitestorm, who didn’t seem to be listening to what was going on behind them. “Make her come back here and name a real deputy!”

“Fireheart is a real deputy!” Cinderspark snapped at the elder, her thick fur bristling angrily. “I’m sure he’ll do better than Tigerclaw!”

“But the code says that a deputy must have had at least one apprentice. Fireheart hasn’t mentored any cat before.” Willowbranch fretted, turning her eyes up to the sky. “And that a deputy must be named before moonhigh. Bluestar has broken the code today; Starclan will be angry with us now.”

“Willowbranch is right.” One-eye pointed out softly, even as her good eye turned on the ginger tom in question. “It doesn’t matter if Fireheart would do a fine job. In Starclan’s eyes, he is not deputy.”

“Would you drag her back out here?” Mistspring spoke up from beside her former apprentice, her voice raspy and straining from her injury only moons prior. “You all saw the state that she was in. She doesn’t have the strength to do a proper ceremony. Whether we like it or not, Fireheart’s the deputy we have right now. We can worry about what Starclan thinks later, when she’s recovered.”

“Starclan was supposed to give her the strength to recover when they brought her back to life!” Smallear yowled from the other side of the crowd. “How do we know that her condition isn’t a punishment for being late with the ceremony?”

Fireheart flinched as he felt a cat come up on his other side, looking to see that Lionheart had approached him. “Do you remember when you first came here?” The golden tabby asked him softly, only loud enough for him and Peppermask to hear.

He blinked, and suddenly it felt as though he was transported back to that early newleaf day. The crowd had hissed and jeered at him then, with Dustleap being the loudest of all. “Do you back down from a challenge?” He wasn’t sure if it was the memory speaking, or Lionheart beside him now.

“Everyone.” Fireheart stepped forward to stand where Bluestar had been, turning to face the angry crowd. They quieted instinctually as he stood there. He felt small and weak under their eyes, like he was once again a scrawny kittypet asking for their acceptance. He glanced at Lionheart, who seemed to be almost smiling as he watched. Had he been smiling that day as well?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves jittering in the pit of his stomach. “I know the warrior code just as well as each of you. I know I’m not the deputy that any of you wanted, or even that Starclan wanted.” He glanced down at his paws, his mouth suddenly feeling as though he had just licked the dirt beneath them. “I didn’t ask Bluestar for this, either. There are- Thunderclan deserves a much better deputy than me.”

He raised his gaze to look out at the crowd, several brimming with hostility as they glared at him. He tried not to let them get to him as he took another deep breath. “But fighting about what Starclan would want and what Bluestar should do is pointless. This fighting - this is what Tigerclaw wants us to do. He wants us to turn against each other, to turn our backs on the code just like he did. If he can’t lead this Clan, then he’ll do his best to tear it down.” He met each gaze in the crowd as he spoke. “Are we going to let him do that?”

Several heartbeats passed in silence, and he worried that for some, the answer might very well be yes. Then Cinderspark stepped forward, her long tail lashing as she raised her head high. “Fireheart’s right. We’re not gonna back down just because that foxheart thinks he’s better than us. We’re Thunderclan, the best Clan in the forest, and Tigerclaw can eat our dirt!” She yowled, loud enough that Starclan above could hear her words.

“Fireheart is a good cat.” He blinked in surprise as Dappleshine stepped forward next, her green eyes soft as she looked upon him. “He’s the one that saved Bluestar from Tigerclaw, after all. He knew more than many of us ever did, walking alongside that-” She paused, her lip curling as she considered many choice words for the exiled deputy, “adder-tongue for many moons. He may be young, but we should trust in his judgement, at least for now.”

“We’ve always trusted Bluestar before. That shouldn’t change now.” Rosetail pointed out from near the back. “We don’t know her reasoning for picking him as deputy. Perhaps she was waiting for Starclan to show her a sign, and they did. It’s not up to us to decide what Starclan’s will is or isn’t.”

Several elders grumbled beside her, but they didn’t seem interested in voicing their complaints. “Thank you. All of you.” He did his best to bow to them without pulling apart his bandages. “I - I will do my best to be worthy of your trust.”

“Now that that’s settled, deputy.” He blinked as he realized Whitestorm had come up beside him while the others had been speaking. “What would you like me to do now?”

He felt himself freezing up in fear at the thought of actually leading these cats. He had only been a warrior for two seasons! He tried to stay on his paws as he thought of what a deputy should do. “Dawn patrols.” He said slowly to himself. “Tigerclaw and his rogues escaped across the Shadowclan border, so we’ll want to guard that one well. Lionheart - you’ll be in charge of that patrol, along with-” He glanced out among the crowd, trying to find warriors he knew would fight Tigerclaw with all their fury. “Tinyfrost, Cinderspark, and Dappleshine.”

Lionheart nodded readily, sweeping his large golden tail towards the other three. “We’ll start along the Twolegplace border, then, since that’s where he was last scented.” The great warrior replied steadily. “Come then, all of you. Dawn isn’t that far away, and we’ll want to get some rest before going out.”

He watched the warriors depart, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself. He could do this. “That leaves the Riverclan border. Mousefur, why don’t you take Cherrypaw, along with Willowbranch and Mistspring?”

The dusky brown molly stared at him as though he’d asked her to grow wings. “Tigerclaw didn’t want us taking apprentices along the Riverclan border with their recent aggression.” She pointed out to him.

“That was because they’d just been apprenticed and had no battle training. It’s been a moon now - surely they’ve had enough practice to handle themselves in a small skirmish?” He asked in response, even as panic welled up within him. In truth, he’d forgotten about it. He hadn’t heard of anything from Riverclan during the last Gathering, aside from their typical posturing over land rights. “Besides, you should try to avoid a fight, anyways. Yellowfang’s herbs are stretched thin as it is. Not that you should let them get away with hunting on our land if it comes to that, but-”

“I understand.” He was grateful for her interruption as she laid her tail on Cherrypaw beside her. “Besides, it will do her good to see the other border. I’ve heard enough complaining about the Thunderpath and Monsters for a lifetime!”

There were a few chuckles as she nudged her apprentice off, the other two warriors following her. “Peppermask, I hope you don’t mind being on hunting duty again. Take Longtail and Cedarpaw with you; try to stay somewhere close to camp, just in case.” He glanced at Whitestorm, considering the tom, but he had been one of the first defenders during the rogue attack. He could see that while the white warrior had not been wounded as badly as him, there were still several long patches of cobweb that hid a surely painful wound beneath. “Whitestorm and I will guard the camp.” He finished with a nod. That would at least get them through to sunhigh, he hoped.

“What about us?” He blinked and turned his head to see Sandstorm limp forward, Dustleap and their apprentices behind her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten us?” She added with narrowed eyes.

The thought of Tigerclaw’s children briefly sent a bolt of panic striking at his heart, but he did his best to conceal it. “You both have an apprentice, don’t you? Surely you can take them to the training hollow and figure something out.” He snapped back at her, refraining from lashing his tail as he spoke. He didn’t need to get into a fight with her, not now.

She shrank back as though he’d attacked her. “Er… right. Yeah, we can do that.” He stared at her in shock as she turned away, her tail low. He glanced at Whitestorm beside him, who was only looking at his former apprentice in worry. “We’ll see you at sunhigh, then.”

He watched them begin to walk away, guilt suddenly filling his mind. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to provoke such a reaction, but as he thought about it, he wondered if perhaps his face had shown the anger he’d tried to hide. After all, Tinyfrost had always said he showed his emotions too easily. “Er, Sandstorm, Dustleap, wait!” He called, the two tabbies turning to meet his gaze. “Can you take Thornpaw as well? He was Tigerclaw’s apprentice, and until Bluestar can assign him a new mentor, perhaps he’d do best training with his siblings.”

The cream molly studied him warily, as though suspecting some sort of trick from the change in attitude. At last, she dipped her head. “Of course we can.” She replied flatly, but he could see her head lift a little higher as she turned back to her den.

Now that the camp was devoid of warriors, everyone departing back to their dens, he heaved a sigh of relief. “You did well.” He looked up to Whitestorm, still standing next to him. “The Clan is skittish, like a frightened rabbit staring into a coyote’s gaze. They will find it difficult to trust, after everything that has happened. Do not take it to heart; it would be the same for any cat in your position, Starclan-appointed or not.” 

“Thank you, Whitestorm.” From all the warriors in camp, it meant the most to hear it from him. “I feel like they can all see that I have no idea what I’m doing. Quickflash and Tigerclaw took to it so easily, and-”

“They also had many moons of experience raising kits and training apprentices that you don’t.” The mighty warrior pointed out evenly, his golden eyes seeming almost amused as he looked down on the new deputy. “Though I am sure the Clan will silently measure you to him, do not feel you have to follow Tigerclaw’s paws. After all,” He muttered darkly, casting a glance towards the tunnel entrance, “that is how we got into this mess in the first place.”

Fireheart tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked curiously. Whitestorm, having been apprenticed alongside Tigerclaw, was perhaps the only remaining cat that knew him best. Had he reason to suspect the exiled deputy’s motive?

His heart sank as Whitestorm shook his head. “Nevermind that. I hope you don’t mind if I continue to guard the nursery? My aunt…” The great warrior looked away with a sigh. “You saw how she is.”

“She will recover. If not thanks to Starclan, then thanks to Yellowfang.” Fireheart replied gently, doing his best to comfort the older warrior. For a moment, Whitestorm seemed weak and vulnerable, rather than the mighty and wise warrior he had always known. “But of course you can guard her, at least until your wounds heal. If you can, ask Frostfur and Goldenflower to rotate with you. If you trust them, of course.”

Whitestorm nodded once at his last words. “Frostfur may be vicious at times, but she has a good heart. I’m told you’ve seen that yourself.” Fireheart glanced up at the larger tom, trying to read what he meant, but he’d already looked away towards the nursery. “As for Goldenflower, she wouldn’t hurt a flea - unless it was threatening the nursery, that is. I don’t envy Tigerclaw if he tries to find that out.” He glanced at the leader’s den behind him. “If it’s alright, I’ll have Speckleflight and Snowkit do their best to clean that out when dawn comes, so that Bluestar can return to it.”

He winced slightly as he realized the bloody trails out of it were still there, a painfully visible reminder of the treachery that had transpired earlier that day. “Of course. When Cherrypaw returns from patrol, have her help, too.” 

“I will.” With that, Whitestorm departed, gently padding across camp and nosing into the nursery to check on Bluestar. Upon making sure that the leader was resting, he took a seat in front of the entrance, eyes flicking around camp for any sign of movement.

Fireheart was just about to take a seat near the elders’ den when he saw another cat approach out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see it was Peppermask, having remained while every other cat had left. “If it’s alright, I’d like to join you on guard duty tonight.” She mewed softly to him, her green gaze indecipherable.

He hesitated to agree. “Shouldn’t you be resting for your hunting patrol?” Fireheart asked gently in return. He knew she wasn’t challenging his authority; she was the only one he would expect to support him, given everything that had happened. Still, it did feel strange that she wasn’t taking the opportunity to sleep before the patrol.

“I’m not tired.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him briefly, before taking a seat next to him. “Besides, you’re injured. If Tigerclaw comes back tonight, you won’t exactly be able to take him on.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He glanced up at the sky, imagining for a brief moment the stars above. “Fine, then. We can sit guard together - at least until it’s time for your patrol.”

“That’s all I ask.” She purred, settling in next to him. He had to admit he didn’t mind the extra warmth in the chilly leafbare night - and, in any case, it would help to quell his anxieties to have an extra cat beside him tonight. Fireheart turned his gaze out onto the shadows, fur prickling as he remembered Tigerclaw’s dire warning. 

It would take a long time for him to feel comfortable in Thunderclan’s camp again.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 51

Chapter 50 || Index || Chapter 52

The nursery was warm as Fireheart entered, dimly lit by the sun filtering through tiny holes in the bramble that protected it. His sister was inside, looking down proudly on her kits as they nursed. She looked up at his entrance, breaking into a grin as she caught sight of her brother. “Fireheart! Is that squirrel for me?” Princess asked softly, careful not to disturb her kits.

“It is. Freshly caught.” Fireheart answered as he laid it down next to her, rubbing his cheek against hers in affection as he looked down at his niblings. They were still so small and precious, all of them. He didn’t know what he’d do without them. “Is everything alright? Do you need anything else from me?”

“No, that’s quite alright.” His sister answered, taking a small and delicate nibble out of the offered freshkill. “You best get going. Quickflash isn’t going to let you stay in the nursery all day fawning over us.” Princess winked at him as he spoke, her whiskers quivering as she watched his face screw up into a scowl. “Chin up, Fireheart! We can share a meal when you come back from patrol.”

“Of course.” Fireheart purred, even as he turned away with a bitter sigh. If it were up to him, he would stay in this moment forever. Life was good and well and right - going on patrol along the stinky Thunderpath was the last thing he wanted. But he was a good warrior, loyal to Thunderclan, and if that meant taking a trek along the Shadowclan border to make sure everything was safe then it was hardly much of a sacrifice on his part.

He stepped out of the nursery, stretching as the sunlight warmed his fur. Early greenleaf was the best possible season, he imagined. It hadn’t yet gotten so hot that every cat was looking for shade to cool off in, but it was still warm enough that all one’s aches and pains seemed to disappear. He shook out his pelt and looked to the entrance, where Quickflash was waiting for him with Ravenspirit. Yes, this was going to be an enjoyable patrol-

“FIREHEART!” 

Princess? Fireheart turned and bolted back into the nursery, his heart pounding in his ears. “Princess! What’s wrong?” He called out as his eyes got used to the dim light inside.

She didn’t answer.

He watched in horror as a long adder emerged from behind her, rising higher and higher until it was nearly as tall as the nursery ceiling. Beneath it was his sister, her green eyes glassy and her tongue lolling out as she stared emptily into the sky. “Princess!” He howled in anguish, looking back up at the adder that stared at him with glittering amber eyes.  

“I see tasty little morsels waiting here for me.” The snake leaned over his sister’s body as Fireheart stood there, frozen to the spot. Why couldn’t he move? His niblings were in danger! “So difficult to choose, eh, Fireheart?”

His heart hammered against his ribs as he stared at the adder, his shock giving way to numb confusion. “Please, leave them alone.” He begged, swallowing hard. “They’re just little kits. They don’t deserve this.”

The snake only stared at him with those same sinister amber eyes. “Fireheart.”

He didn’t know what to do - he was frozen to the spot. “Please, anything, I’ll do anything.” He mewed softly. And he would - he would do anything to protect his niblings. He’d do anything to protect his family, his Clan-

“FIREHEART.”

The ginger tom jolted awake, smacking into someone hovering over him as he did so. The two reeled away from each other, Fireheart reaching up to nurse his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. In front of him was Dewpaw, who was favoring her chin as she watched him with her shining mismatched eyes. “Dewpaw?” He whispered in confusion.

At his soft question, the silver healer stood and left, only flicking her tail for him to follow as she did so. He looked around himself in confusion. He was in the warriors’ den, in his comfortable nest. Dappleshine shifted slightly next to him, before turning over and finding herself a newer, comfier position. Around him were the softly slumbering forms of about a dozen warriors - everyone except Graystripe, who was out on guard duty.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and stumbled out after Dewpaw, everything starting to come back to him. It had just been a dream - a terrible dream, but still a dream. After all, it wasn’t like there was such a thing as talking snakes, right? He did his best to shake away the last remnants of sleep as he exited the warriors’ den, looking around to see where Dewpaw had gone off to.

She was waiting for him outside the healer’s den. As soon as she caught sight of him, she once again motioned for him to follow her before slipping inside. He did so, even as his tail twitched irritably. It wasn’t as if he refused to be woken up, but couldn’t she at least mew hello or something?

Still, he followed after her, squeezing through the crack in the ravine wall to enter the moonlit cave. Dewpaw was pacing back and forth in the small interior, while Yellowfang was sitting off to the side, cleaning herself. Both of their gazes turned to him as he arrived. “There you are.” The old healer mewed grumpily as she abandoned her washing.

“Here I am.” Fireheart growled back irritably. “What’s so important that you had to wake me up for it? I don’t see any patients in here, so it can’t be that someone’s gotten sick.” Even as he said it, his heart leaped into his throat. What if his dream had been a sign? Maybe Princess was in danger - maybe his niblings were in danger -

“We went to the Moonstone tonight.” Dewpaw explained, her voice hushed to keep it from echoing in the small cave. He glanced up to see the moon just peeking through the hole in the ceiling - a half moon, of course, signaling the meeting of the healers’ circle. “Yellowfang decided that I’ve earned my full name - Dewshine.”

“That’s wonderful, Dewshine!” Even though he was annoyed by getting woken up, Fireheart still managed a delighted purr at her announcement. It had been a long time coming, especially now that she had been an apprentice for an entire season-cycle. “That… that is good news, right?” He wondered out loud, noticing that neither of the healers matched his mood.

“It is.” The newly named Dewshine confirmed, to his relief. “A new healer is a big deal in the Clans, since they’re very rare. When a healer gets their name, the whole Clan celebrates. They’re decorated with whatever herbs they choose, so every cat knows they’ve gotten their name, and it’s expected that cats will bring them a present to honor them.”

“A present?” Fireheart stared at her, anxiety suddenly rising in his throat. He hadn’t known any of this. What sort of present was a Clan cat supposed to bring a healer?

The silver tabby purred, her whiskers twitching in amusement at his voice. “Usually something simple, like their favorite prey or a herb they know that’s useful. Cats that are closer to the new healer try to give more meaningful gifts, though…” She giggled at the look of outright panic that crossed his face. “Personally, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some catmint stalks. It should be blooming by now, and while the stuff we got from your sister should still be useful, fresh catmint is always best. Yellowfang and I have searched, but we just haven’t been able to find any growing in the forest.”

Fireheart took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll bring you a whole bundle of catmint - enough to make an entire nest out of.” He vowed readily, thinking of the catmint bush in his old garden. Smudge and Hattie owed him a favor, after all - surely they wouldn’t mind if he stopped by to collect some. 

Dewshine blinked in wordless appreciation, but the purr faded from her as she did so. “That… that’s not why we called you in, though.” She sighed after a few heartbeats. “I… I spoke with Starclan afterwards. They were proud of me, all of them, Nightwish and Quickflash and… and Spottedleaf…”

Grief flashed across the new healer’s face. Though Quickflash and Spottedleaf had died seasons ago now, and she surely met them often in Starclan, Fireheart could tell she still wished that they were in Thunderclan. It wasn’t fair that they had been senselessly slaughtered, taken from life too soon. “This still doesn’t sound like bad news, though.” He pointed out softly. It also didn’t sound like a reason to wake him from his slumber, though he didn’t say that part out loud.

“No, it’s not.” Dewshine seemed to steady herself at the sound of his voice. “But when I was there, Spottedleaf told me she’d received a prophecy from Starclan while she was still alive. She told me it was mine to safeguard, now that I was a healer.” She took a deep breath and glanced up at the darkening sky. “‘Fire alone can save our Clan.’”

Fireheart’s ears perked curiously as she spoke, before he blinked in confusion at the words of the prophecy. “The one about Brokentail?” He mewed, baffled at the thought. “I don’t understand. Why would she get that prophecy in Thunderclan? I mean, I guess I’m a Thunderclan cat, but it didn’t really have anything to do with Thunderclan until-”

“The one we thought was about Brokentail.” Yellowfang interrupted him gruffly, her face scrunched up in her usual scowl. “I thought it was a Shadowclan prophecy, until Dewshine told me that. Then we asked the other healers, and it turns out Mudwish and Mosspatch got the same prophecy, too. So did Birchbark, and of course Wetnose and I. Best as we can tell, we all received it at the same time - one night last newleaf, early in the season. Back when Brokentail had just become leader, and Riverclan had just won Sunningrocks.”

Fireheart’s paws began to tingle as if they were going numb. “That doesn’t make sense.” His heart felt as though it had leaped into his throat as he stared at the other two healers. “I mean, I’m just a Thunderclan warrior. At the time I was-” nothing, he stopped himself from saying. “I was just a kittypet. Why would Starclan care about me? Why would they give every Clan a prophecy about me?”

He stood now, trying to shake off the numbness in his paws as he began to pace like Dewshine had. “I mean, I guess I helped drive off Brokentail, sure. And I was one of the cats Bluestar sent to bring Windclan back, so I could see them considering that as saving Windclan. Redtail seemed to think I was destined to drive off Tigerclaw, and I did feed Riverclan to keep them from starving. I wasn’t the only cat that did all that - Peppermask was there for it all too - but I guess I could see Starclan considering all that as saving the Clans.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. The thought of Starclan being so interested in him unnerved him to his core, though he didn’t dare say that to the two healers. He was just another cat - why were they taking such an interest in him? “But I wasn’t really responsible for saving them. Things would’ve happened whether I was there or not.”

“You fed Riverclan?” Dewshine stared at him in disbelief, before shaking her head. “No, nevermind. That’s not important right now.” Still, she seemed equally anxious as she stared at the ginger deputy. “Fireheart, those are all things that already happened.”

“So?” Fireheart countered, not seeing her point. Of course they’d already happened - how else was he supposed to know about them?

“So,” she answered slowly, staring at him as though she expected him to answer on his own, “Spottedleaf gave me the prophecy because it hadn’t yet been fulfilled. Whatever it’s referring to hasn’t happened yet.”

Fireheart had to stop as the world suddenly seemed to swirl around him. What did she mean, the prophecy hadn’t happened yet? How couldn’t it have happened yet? “What could possibly be worse for Thunderclan than Tigerclaw?” He choked out, his throat seizing up with horror at the mere thought of something - anything - worse than Tigerclaw.

Yellowfang and Dewshine shared a look - a knowing look, he would have thought, as if they could possibly know anything about something that hadn’t happened yet. “All of the healers received the prophecy that night. That means-” Dewshine caught herself, considering her words. “We think that means whatever it is, it will affect all the Clans. Brokentail was the closest to affecting all the Clans, but he was stopped before he could drive out Riverclan or Thunderclan.”

“What could possibly affect all the Clans?” Fireheart asked, his voice small and petulant despite himself. “If something that big comes, how can I possibly stop it? I’m just one cat!”

The two healers didn’t meet his eye. Fireheart shook his head, unable to calm himself down now. “This is ridiculous! Why does Starclan expect me to be the one to fix all their problems? It’s bad enough I have the entire Clan depending on me as deputy! Why can’t I just be a normal warrior?” He didn’t look at Dewshine and Yellowfang - he didn’t care to see what they thought about his words. “Why can’t some other cat step up for a change? Like Lionheart, or Whitestorm? Why does it always have to be me taking care of other cats’ problems?”

A throaty chuckle came from Yellowfang’s direction. “You’re the one that always gets yourself involved.”

“I don’t want to anymore!” He snapped, turning his green glare upon the old healer with a snarl. “Tigerclaw’s gone, and the Clan is safe. All the Clans are safe! Haven’t I done enough already? Can’t I just take care of my sister and her kits and rest for once?”

Silence stretched between them as Fireheart turned away, closing his eyes against the world bitterly. It wasn’t fair! He just wanted to be a normal warrior, as normal as Lionheart or Tinyfrost or Peppermask. He could be just that, if Starclan didn’t insist on dragging him into everything!

But Starclan hadn’t been the ones to involve him with Tigerclaw - that had been Ravenspirit and Redtail. Starclan hadn’t asked him to get involved with Windclan - that had been Bluestar. Starclan certainly weren’t the ones that made him feed Riverclan - that was all on him.

“Do you know when this is supposed to happen?” Fireheart asked at last, turning back to Yellowfang and Dewshine with a bitter sigh. “Or what it’s supposed to be? Surely Starclan has to have some idea, given how much they can see.”

Dewshine hesitated before shaking her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Fireheart. Starclan signs are often vague. It could happen a moon from now, or fifty. It’s only a warning that something is coming.”

Fireheart scoffed at her words. “Of course. How do we even know the prophecy is about me? For all we know, it’s referring to actual fire!”

“Because-” Dewshine looked away guiltily, cutting herself off before she could say more. He was slightly apologetic for upsetting her - but even so, his lip curled into a sneer as he imagined what she’d been about to say.

Because he’d saved the Clans all those other times, after all.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to reorient himself. Dewshine and Yellowfang were only the messengers - and though Starclan could surely see his anger, it did him little good to take it out on them. “I don’t see the point in worrying about it now.” He mewed at last. “It’s already been a season-cycle, after all. Maybe it won’t show up until I’m already an elder, and it won’t involve me to begin with.” He wasn’t sure whether he believed that, but he’d rather pretend that it wasn’t his problem than worry about yet another thing. “Is that all?”

“Well…” He paused to stare at Dewshine with narrowed eyes. “I- Normally, when a healer receives a prophecy, they’ll share it with the leader and the other healers in their Clan, if there are any. I’ve already told Yellowfang, of course, but Bluestar…”

Bluestar had been doing so much better lately - did she really need to know some imminent danger was looming over Thunderclan? “Don’t tell Bluestar.” He decided swiftly. “There’s no point in worrying her now.”

Dewshine looked back at Yellowfang anxiously. “She probably already knows.” Yellowfang grunted at her former apprentice’s signal. “Spottedleaf would have received this prophecy when she was still alive, and Bluestar’s healer. She would have shared it with Bluestar then.”

“And as far as Bluestar knows, I have saved the Clan.” Fireheart replied, lashing his tail once for emphasis. “Tigerclaw was driven out because of me. Thunderclan will be safe from his malevolence. Until we have reason to believe the prophecy is relevant, there’s no reason to tell her besides upsetting her.”

The two healers shared a glance once more. “She’s going to be extremely upset with us if she finds out we hid a prophecy from her.” Dewshine worried softly. “She talks to Starclan often too, after all. Who’s to say they won’t tell her?”

“If she finds out.” Fireheart pointed out, trying to keep his voice calm and confident. “How do you know that Starclan will tell her? Even if they do, it can be just as much a surprise to us as it is to her.”

Dewshine still looked concerned, but Yellowfang shrugged in response. “You’re not wrong. It’s not the first time I’ve hidden a prophecy from a leader.” She growled, going back to cleaning her paw. Fireheart tilted his head quizzically. Part of him wanted to ask what she was referring to, but he’d promised not to stick his nose into matters that didn’t involve him - and this definitely didn’t involve him.

“If that’s all.” He repeated, looking at Dewshine expectantly. The silver healer slowly dipped her head. “I’ll see you all in the morning, then.” He mewed, turning and exiting the healers’ den. 

He longed to cast what he had just heard out of his mind, but he knew it wouldn’t be so easy. How could any cat just ignore learning that a threat was out there that could destroy the four Clans? Not to mention that he was still deputy, and if this mysterious danger killed Bluestar, then- 

No, he told himself with a shake of his head. This was just some far away danger that wouldn’t affect them. There was no reason to believe that Whitestorm wouldn’t follow through on his promise and make sure that Fireheart would be able to step down from being deputy soon enough. This would easily be a problem for the next deputy - the next leader, even. There was no point in worrying.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 35

Chapter 34 || Index || Chapter 36

Fireheart’s wounds burned as he crossed camp. Though exiled now, Tigerclaw had left his mark on the Clan - one that would not heal quickly, if at all. Though Fireheart gladly took the brunt of the attack, the victory that had been earned felt hollow. Even though Tigerclaw stood no chance at leading now, they had still lost two valuable warriors.

He paused outside the rocky crag of the healer’s den as he heard voices inside. He hadn’t seen Dewpaw or Yellowfang since before Brokentail’s rogues had invaded, and they hadn’t appeared for Tigerclaw’s condemnation. He suddenly recalled how Spottedleaf had died, not so long ago, and crouched as a wave of fear crashed over him. Nobody had thought to check on them - what if a rogue still remained in their camp?

He stalked his way inside, thankful for the shadows that would hide his bright ginger coat. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, he sighed gently in relief. While Dewpaw wasn’t inside, Yellowfang was, sitting next to a wailing Brokentail.

“My eyes! He took my eyes!” The rogue leader howled, his voice echoing in the small cave until it sounded as though a thousand ghosts were lamenting alongside him. “I can’t see!”

“It was an unlucky claw strike.” Yellowfang murmured sadly as she turned away and began to paw herbs down from her collection to tend to him. “Why did you try and hold him back? You could not keep him safe from those rogues.”

“Keep him safe?” Brokentail barked, his voice a mixture of astonishment and fury. “Why would I want to keep that miserable rat safe? If not for him and these pathetic excuses for warriors, I would still be Shadowclan’s leader! I could have ruled the whole forest!”

The old healer paused, her paw hovering near a red flower, dulled by time; a poppy flower, he recognized after a moment. “They have protected you. They took you in and kept you safe, just as they did for me.”

“And I didn’t ask for it!” The tabby exile spat furiously, whipping his head in what he thought was Yellowfang’s direction. “I’d be better off dead than being watched over by these weakling kittypet sympathizers! At least then I wouldn’t have to suffer the constant indignity of being taken care of by a traitorous sack of bones like you!”

Fireheart winced at the insults being flung Yellowfang’s way. Part of him wanted to step forward and interrupt, but he knew that Yellowfang would never forgive him for defending her when she could defend herself. She was a proud Shadowclanner, even if she had left them for Thunderclan territory, and he didn’t dare take that from her in front of her own son.

The healer’s paw withdrew from the poppy seeds, evidently deciding that he didn’t need any herbs for his pain. It was for the best, he figured, given the wounds that needed treatment outside. “I warned you, when you first became leader, that if you did not temper your ambition and pride it would lead you to ruin.” She told him softly as she gathered up the other herbs. “There is no shame in admitting defeat, Brokentail. You can still find peace-”

“I don’t want peace! Look around you! See what peace has done for these flea-brains, who refuse to kill even their enemies!” Brokentail snarled, his namesake lashing bitterly against the moss beneath him. “Power is all that matters! Not that I expect a healer like you to ever understand, with your useless flowers and ramblings about Starclan!” 

Yellowfang reached her paw into another cubby, one Fireheart couldn’t see from his vantage point. “These useless flowers have saved lives. They can straighten bone, blot out infection, and create life - or take it, if need be.” She told him, her voice suddenly cold and lacking the gentle warmth that it always did when she was speaking to her son.

“Can they bring back my sight?” The prisoner retorted, his ears pinned back as he glared in her general direction.

“They can.” The old queen murmured softly to her son, but there was an ice in her voice that made Fireheart shiver uncomfortably. “Here. Take these seeds. They will give you what you need.”

She set down a large, flat leaf in front of him, with a small collection of round dark seeds on top. Poppy seeds? No, these had to be something else - but Fireheart didn’t have enough knowledge of herbs to identify them, especially from this far away. As he watched, she took one of the old rogue’s paws and guided it to where the leaf sat. 

It took him several moments to find the seeds, but once he did, he lapped them up eagerly. “Finally, you prove to have some use after all.” Brokentail growled as he swallowed them down. “How long until I can see again?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” Yellowfang promised, keeping her copper eyes focused on him. She didn’t move to take care of his other wounds, even though Fireheart could see several painful looking cuts along the former tyrant’s flank. “I wish you could have seen that power is not the only thing that matters in life. The warriors of Thunderclan understand that.”

She took a deep, painful-looking breath as she looked down at her son, who was clumsily beginning to clean himself. “They took me and the elders in, even though they did not have to, because it was the right thing to do. They made me feel as though I belonged, even though I was not born one of them. They could have done the same for you, in time.”

“Do I look like I care what those fools think?” He paused, spitting out a wad of matted fur in her direction before continuing to clean himself.

“No.” She admitted with a sigh as she got to her paws. “I know you care for nothing but yourself, Brokentail. Not the code, nor your Clan, nor even your own kin.”

The outlaw’s lip curled in something resembling a grin. “Are you still on about Raggedstar? That old crow was stifling the Clan. Don’t pretend as if you cared for him any more than I did.”

“Oh, but I did.” Yellowfang mewed, a gentleness trickling back into her tone at the thought of her old mate. “I loved him fiercely, and I know he would have died for me, had I asked him to. It was because of that love that I bore him a son. I often wonder how much would have changed, if I had chosen to raise him instead of that snake-hearted queen…”

The tabby rogue made a grotesque hacking noise at her words. “Spiders have spun webs in your skull, you old bat. I am Raggedstar’s only heir. Besides, healers aren’t allowed to have kits, according to your precious Starclan.”

“I know.” Yellowfang sighed mournfully, her posture defeated as she watched her son struggle to understand the weight of her words. “That is why I gave you up, so I could continue to care for the Clan I also loved. But I never stopped caring for you - never. I wept with pride the day you were named a warrior.”

“But then you murdered your own father.” She continued, her voice dropping to a low snarl filled with seasons of pent-up anger and bitterness. “You killed kits of your own Clan, and cast the blame on your healer - your own mother. You plotted to destroy the Clan that took you in despite the crimes you committed against it, all out of some misplaced sense of power and pride.” She shook her head slowly. “And so I must do what I should have done when you were first born, and put an end to your evil.”

“An end? What do you mean, you…” Brokentail tried to stand, but collapsed into his mossy nest instead. “What is this? What have you done to me?” He rasped, his legs moving weakly as though he was trying to get up, but his paws would not respond.

“Those were foxglove seeds that I gave you. Even one is a potent poison; with the amount you took, there is no surviving.” Her eyes were narrow slits as she gazed down on the broken shell of a once-feared leader. “I know this is your last life, Brokentail. Healers always know. And perhaps now I can rest peacefully at last, knowing that I will not be responsible for your sins any longer.”

Brokentail’s jaws parted in a cry of shock and fear. Fireheart thought he could hear regret there, too, but the blinded tom was unable to put words to it. His limbs thrashed and his paws scrabbled in the dust; his chest heaved as he fought for air. 

He turned away, not wanting to see the grisly scene, and padded back out into the camp clearing. Peppermask was still answering the many questions of the Clan in regards to Tigerclaw’s treachery - just as Fireheart moved to join her, he nearly collapsed as the wounds the exiled deputy had given him reasserted themselves.

He stumbled back to the healer’s den, knowing that he had to get treatment or he would bleed out where he stood. Inside, Yellowfang was pressed against her son’s side, mumbling words under her breath that only his spirit would be able to hear.

“Yellowfang?” He mewed softly, the old healer startling at his voice.

She raised her gaze to meet his, her dark eyes full of sorrow. “His wounds in the battle were too great. I did everything I could to save him, but it wasn’t enough.” She rasped, closing her eyes briefly as another wave of grief washed over her.

He didn’t dare tell her that he knew she was lying. He knew he had witnessed something he shouldn’t have. What happened with Brokentail was between her and Starclan, he believed, and not for him to judge. “I’m sorry, Yellowfang. I know you loved him, despite his flaws.” He tried his best to keep his voice even, to prevent her from realizing he knew the truth. “I know you want to mourn him, but Tigerclaw hurt me badly during our fight. Do you have anything to help?”

The healer’s ears perked in astonishment, and he realized that she had been within her own bubble during the whole ordeal. “You fought with Tigerclaw?” She shook her head and stood, stumbling over to her collection of herbs. “Take a seat in one of the nests. I should have enough supplies to help you.”

He nodded and took a seat in one of the mossy nests next to the pool of water in her den. "I did. With Tinyfrost's help, I defeated him. He'd attacked - killed Bluestar, and..." He trailed off, confusion suddenly surfacing in his mind once more. "Yellowfang, I don't understand. Bluestar died - twice, according to what she told Whitestorm. Yet she somehow still lives. How...?"

She paused, turning to face him with a look of bewilderment on her flat face. “All this time in the Clan, and still no cat has told you about a leader’s nine lives?” She asked, her voice lacking the bitter sarcasm it normally would in her surprise.

“Nine lives? But that’s just an old queens’ tale! Cats don’t really get to live nine times.” Fireheart bristled at the thought. He remembered Henry telling him about it once, long ago, as well as detailing how he’d lost several of his own lives. He’d thought the older tom was exaggerating. But if it was really true…

The two stared at each other for a long moment. For the first time in a long while, Fireheart felt once again like a newcomer - one who understood nothing of Clan tradition, who had to have every little detail explained to him. He felt himself shrinking down to a small apprentice once more under Yellowfang’s incredulous stare, until at last she turned away and began pawing out herbs.

“Once they have named their deputy, leaders are taken to the Moonstone by their oldest healer. There, they receive nine lives from Starclan in a special ceremony. They use these nine lives to serve their Clan.” The dark gray molly explained flatly as she grabbed at several golden flowers - marigold, he recognized, from the clearing in which they had first discussed Redtail together. “An old queens’ tale, great Starclan!” She mused to herself before she gently picked up a leaf bundle thick with flowers and turned to carry it over to him, setting it down beside the nest he’d picked. 

He flattened his ears at her incredulous condescension. “You have to admit that it sounds made up. Once things die, they’re supposed to stay dead. That’s what death means. That’s why…” He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He’d also believed the same thing when it came to Starclan spirits, but Redtail had proved him wrong. He’d wondered what sort of powers Starclan had then - it seemed trivial now, that they would be able to bring back the dead.

Yellowfang sighed as she began to examine his wounds. “I suppose I can see how to kittypets, it sounds like a tall tale. They don’t know about Starclan, after all.” She prodded one of his largest wounds, and he hissed instinctively at the pain. “That is also why leaders receive the title of -star. By gaining the power of Starclan, they become part of them.”

Fireheart nodded slowly. Now he understood why he had heard several cats fussing at the removal of Brokentail’s name; it had not just been a rejection of him as their leader, but also a rejection of his connection to Starclan and the lives they had given him. The thought of Brokentail’s lives suddenly brought him back to a moment several moons ago. “Wait. When Brokentail was hit by that Monster, I thought he was dead because he didn’t look like he was breathing. He was dead, wasn’t he? But he must have still had a life left, so Starclan brought him back.”

The healer’s eyes darkened as she chewed up a mix of several flowers, and she didn’t say anything for a long moment. At last, she applied the concoction to his wound, swiftly covering it with a pawful of cobwebs. “Yes, he still had a life left. Once that power is granted, it is not so easy to take it away.”

He wondered briefly what the old molly was thinking, but he knew better than to pry. Instead, he turned his thoughts to Bluestar, recovering from her murder in the nursery. “How many lives does Bluestar have left? She’s been leader for quite a while now, and Tigerclaw took two at the same time.”

Yellowfang didn’t answer, but the frown on her face told him all he needed to know. “It’s considered very rude to ask how many lives a leader has left. It’s something personal to them, which they only share with those close to them - their deputies, typically, and perhaps certain trusted family members as well.”

He bowed his head, slightly ashamed. “I’m sorry for asking.” He understood why leaders would not want that to be widely known - especially after what Tigerclaw had done.

She shrugged as she began applying more poultice to his other wounds. The herbs stung, but he knew that they would help him heal from the battle, so he did his best to stay still. “This is all new to you, so I won’t reprimand your curiosity.” Her gray paws firmly smoothed cobwebs against his wounds, pressing them tightly into his fur. The sticky substance felt strange and tight against his pelt. “Now, then. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and normally I would advise you to stay here for the night so I can watch you. But you’re young, and there are other cats that might need these nests more, so instead I’ll just warn you not to stretch too much and to come back and see me when the sun sets so I can switch your bandages.”

Fireheart nodded quickly in understanding. “Shall I go tell the others to come see you for healing?” He glanced at the body of Brokentail, his frame twisted in an unnatural position. “And maybe get the elders…?”

“No. I will bury him myself.” She turned away with a heavy sigh, concealing her face from his view. “As for healing, tell those that are still bleeding to come see me. We don’t have enough herbs to treat every little scratch.”

He dipped his head respectfully before turning to leave. His mind was swirling with everything that had happened - and perhaps a bit of blood loss - but at least his most pressing questions had been answered. By now, most of the crowd around Peppermask had disbanded, sulking off to various parts of the clearing to share tongues and absorb what had happened.

“Uh… everybody?” He announced, doing his best to draw their attention. Most cats turned to look at him, though none moved from their positions. “Yellowfang says that any cats that still have bleeding wounds need to come see her. Everyone else will have to wait until the more serious injuries are treated.”

He was grateful to see that most of the Clan had escaped the fighting relatively unscathed - a few cuts here and there, and many would certainly feel the impact of the blows they’d received for several days, but only a few had sustained serious wounds during the fight like he had. Only Sandstorm, Patchpelt and Speckleflight limped past him - the first line of fighters that had had to deal with the rogues until the other warriors had arrived.

His job done, Fireheart turned his attention to the nursery, where Lionheart and Whitestorm were dutifully sitting guard. He hesitated to approach the two giant toms, but he wouldn’t be able to rest until he made sure his sister and her kits had escaped the worst of the fighting. Plucking up his courage, he limped over to the two of them.

“Fireheart?” Lionheart’s scrutinizing stare turned on him, but he was thankful to see it was not an overly hostile one. “Did you need something from us?”

“No, I-” He swallowed back his fear, feeling momentarily overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Would Princess blame him for not warning her? He shook his head quickly. “I wanted to see my sister. I promise I won’t disturb Bluestar.”

The two warriors only needed to glance at each other before the golden warrior stepped aside with a slight bow. “They are waiting for you inside.” He informed Fireheart, taking a seat beside the entrance.

Fireheart dipped his head gratefully to Lionheart before squeezing his way inside. He didn’t take even a heartbeat to look for Bluestar, his eyes immediately going to where he knew his sister and her kits laid.

He was relieved to see that while she looked unnerved, her kits still squirmed happily at her side and she seemed unharmed. “Fireheart! Thank goodness you’re alive.” She purred, leaning up to touch noses with him as he approached.

He did so readily, welcoming the cold sensation of her nose on his. “I’m glad to see you safe as well. Did the rogues come in here at all?” He sniffed at the kits, who turned to look at him with bleary blue eyes.

“They did.” His heart plummeted at her admission. He’d been so worried about Bluestar, he’d forgotten to think of her at all during the battle. “But Goldenflower and Frostfur protected us! They had that rogue crying like a kit before they were through with him.” She shook her head, a sense of awe creeping over her face. “They’re so gentle with the kits, I didn’t think they had it in them! But they’re a force to be reckoned with, for sure.”

“When it comes to protecting kits, there is no cat I’d want by my side more than Frostfur.” He didn’t dare tell her about the white queen’s nickname - which was for the best, as he realized with a glance around the den that the two were sitting in their nest and sharing tongues. “Still, I’m glad you’re not injured.”

“I’m glad you’re safe too. The fighting out there sounded intense, and then…” She glanced at the nest beside her, where Bluestar was curled up. Her silver fur was dark and matted with blood, but she appeared to be fine - just resting, he imagined, given that he couldn’t see her eyes.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain more to you when things aren’t so hectic.” And when no one else was around to eavesdrop, he thought to himself. Even though the truth was out in the open now, there were still parts of the story he wouldn’t tell to cats he didn’t trust. “I’ll be back soon, alright? I just had to check in on you before I did anything else.”

“I appreciate it.” She purred softly, touching noses with him one last time before he turned to leave. He cast another glance in Bluestar’s direction, tempted to talk to her as well, but quickly turned away and left the nursery instead. Tough conversations could be had later, and the leader needed rest after what had happened. Besides, he’d promised Lionheart and Whitestorm he wouldn’t disturb her.

He gave a respectful nod to the two warriors as he exited, before setting his sights on where Peppermask was now sitting alone in the clearing, taking stock of her injuries. She looked up to see his approach, heaving a weary sigh as he sat down next to her. “I had hoped this day wouldn’t come.” She murmured to him sadly.

“As had I.” Fireheart replied, his heart aching as he did. Tigerclaw could have been a great leader, had he not stooped to murder for his ambitions. Now, as the sun had passed its zenith and was setting towards the treeline, he felt a profound sense of loss - not just because of the two deputies that Tigerclaw had killed, but also for the emptiness of camp now that two more of its warriors had departed. 

All around camp, cats were whispering to each other and staring across the clearing distrustfully. The mighty deputy had been a cornerstone of the Clan, a foundation of strength upon which all warriors had come to rely on. Now that he was gone, it felt as though Thunderclan had lost everything that made it a Clan: safety, trust, and honor.

What would become of the Clan now? It would be up to Bluestar and the next deputy to bring these broken cats back together. Looking around camp, he wasn’t sure which cat was strong enough, and wise enough, to stand beside her and help her pick up the pieces.

If only Bluestar had listened to him…

He shook his head quickly. What was done was done. The only thing to do now was to focus on what was in front of them. He stood to stretch, but his side painfully reminded him that he had to be gentle on it. “Peppermask, would you mind hunting for Princess for me today? I don’t know if I can catch much in this state.”

She glanced over him, a patchwork of fur and cobwebs. “Of course, Fireheart. Why don’t you go and get some rest? You’re not going to be doing anything like that, and it will be a while still until Bluestar has recovered enough to choose a deputy. I’ll wake you before the ceremony begins.”

As she mentioned it, a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. Even though it was only a little past sunhigh, it had already been a long day. As much as he wanted to protest her remarks, he knew he needed the rest. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.” With that he slipped away to the warriors’ den. Several cats sat inside, recuperating from their wounds and trying to get some sleep after the battle. All gave him a wary glance as he entered, but none spoke as he padded over to his nest and fell into it. Worries swirled around in his mind, buzzing like angry flies, and he feared he would get no sleep at all. But it took only moments for his breathing to slow and the sounds of outside to fade away, and soon he was gladly welcoming the waiting darkness that claimed him.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 33

Chapter 32 || Index || Chapter 34

Fireheart grumbled to himself as he sat beside the nursery, looking out on the camp. It was just after sunhigh,  and he had been predictably stuck on guarding camp once again. The camp had mostly cleared out now that the time for sharing tongues was over, with mentors going off to train their apprentices and warriors off to complete patrols.

He shook his fur out, trying to keep his mind off how much he’d rather be anywhere but guard duty. The nursery behind him was quiet, his sister and her kits sleeping after a sunhigh feeding; the elders were mostly napping themselves, the momentary warmth that sunhigh brought lulling them into a drowsy slumber.

Sandstorm and Tigerclaw were standing near the entrance of camp, lecturing Brightpaw and Thornpaw. As he watched, Tigerclaw gave a respectful nod to his daughter and walked away to speak with Bluestar. He grimaced at the sight. At this point, it was rarer to see Tigerclaw teaching his apprentice than some other mentor overseeing the young tom. Why had he bothered taking an apprentice if he wasn’t interested in teaching one?

He forced himself to look away, knowing that watching them would only make him angrier. Instead, he focused on where Whitestorm and Yellowfang were sitting and talking, as they watched Brokentail doing some basic stretches. The sight made him smile slightly; even if they didn’t all know it yet, it was nice to see them bonding like a family might. He was glad he had decided to tell Yellowfang what Brokentail had said to him; she had been slightly happier in recent days, or at the very least, not scowling as much.

His gaze drifted back to the camp entrance as Sandstorm left with the two apprentices in tow. Tigerclaw and Bluestar had gone into her den, leaving the camp with only the elders and Brokentail’s entourage. Even Snowkit was out, fetching moss for the elders’ nests. The clearing felt strangely devoid of life as he looked upon it; he shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by the stillness and silence. 

As the moments passed by in quiet contemplation, his fur began to prickle more and more until it felt as though ants were crawling up and down his pelt. He tensed his muscles, trying to will it away, but the jitters only grew stronger until he was forced to stand and try to shake them out. He couldn’t sit here until the patrols finally came back, he quickly realized. Between the boredom and the silence, he would surely drive himself mad.

Perhaps a few laps around camp would do him good, he thought to himself, stretching out his muscles and beginning to pad along the clearing perimeter. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t do his job walking around, after all. If anything, he was guarding the camp even better, making sure to check all spots for any signs of trouble!

“Fireheart?” He blinked out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, turning to see he’d just passed by where Rosetail and Halftail were snoozing together. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, I’m just trying to beat the chill. Figured I’d try to warm myself up by taking a walk around camp. I hope my pacing didn’t disturb you?”

The tortoiseshell elder shrugged, her bony shoulders exaggerating the movement. “It doesn’t bother me. Just try to keep it down, won’t you? The other elders won’t appreciate it if their sunhigh slumber is disturbed.” She flicked her red-striped tail towards where the other elders were sprawled out in various patches of dappled sunlight.

“Of course.” He purred with a respectful dip of his head, before quietly continuing on. He flicked his tail in a greeting to Whitestorm and Yellowfang as he passed them, though neither stopped him to talk as they watched Thunderclan’s sole prisoner. He approached the nursery again, feeling energized as blood rushed through his veins. It seemed a small walk was just what he needed after all, given he was to be cooped up in camp until close to sunset.

He began a second languid lap around the clearing, focusing on keeping his pawsteps soundless. He paused briefly by the leader’s den, wondering what Tigerclaw and Bluestar were talking about, but he could only hear dull murmuring beyond the mossy curtain and quickly continued on before either could notice his shadow. He dipped his head to Snowkit as he passed by with a large ball of moss, watching the young tom disappear into the elders’ den. He was tempted to help with making the elders’ nests, but he knew that if Tigerclaw caught him doing anything but guard duty that he would get an angry reprimand he certainly didn’t need.

He had just reached the stump by the apprentices’ den when Sandstorm burst into camp, her sides heaving. “Thunderclan!” She wheezed out as all eyes turned towards her. “We… we’re…”

Fireheart stared at her in confusion. “Sandstorm?” He prompted as the tawny molly fought to catch her breath. “What’s going on? Has something happened to Brightpaw and Thornpaw?” He glanced over his shoulder at Yellowfang, wondering if perhaps the healer was needed to rectify a training accident.

The deputy’s daughter shook her head stubbornly. “Attack… They…” She panted, clearly not used to having run as fast as she had. Fireheart stepped towards her delicately. Normally, she might claw his ears off for daring to approach; now, however, she seemed too preoccupied with whatever message she was trying to get out.

As he did, the bramble tunnel rustled behind her, one dark-colored many-toed paw stepping into view - then another. “Look out!” Fireheart yowled, sprinting past her to slam into Spiderfoot as he slid into view. The former Shadowclan deputy twisted out of the way, more rogues pouring in behind him. A dark gray tom rushed at Fireheart, driving him back from the entrance before he could stop them.

The Thunderclan camp was alive with howls of anger and the flash of claws as what few cats remained dove into battle. 

Fireheart sprang at the dark gray tom that had tried to attack him, his claws raking down his side and tearing away thick clumps of fur. The rogue snarled and leaped back at him, slamming him into the ground, but Fireheart was ready; with one vicious kick, he sent his back claws into the tom’s belly as hard as he could, sending the invader flying. 

He rolled to his feet, not giving the former Shadowclanner a chance to recover before he was beset by a flurry of fast claw-strikes. In moments, the rogue had tucked his tail and was racing back out of the camp entrance.

He turned to briefly survey the camp. Everything was in chaos. He spotted briefly Goldenflower and Frostfur near the nursery, fighting in furious tandem to attack Spiderfoot; Patchpelt was stationed in front of the elders’ den, lashing out with surprising speed at a brown and white patched molly and brown tom with a shredded tail; he could see Sandstorm riding the back of a scarred brown tom he recognized as Clawface, her claws digging into his neck as she bit at whatever her fangs could get a hold of.

As he surveyed camp, looking for another cat to drive away, he froze as he realized he couldn’t see the silver shine of Bluestar’s pelt amongst the fighters. As he searched fearfully for Thunderclan’s leader, his heart dropped as he realized he couldn’t see the bulky form of Tigerclaw among the throng either. 

His mind suddenly flashed back to the day he had seen Tigerclaw sitting next to Brokentail, the day after Graystripe had attacked him. He’d thought then that it was a father and son sharing tongues, but now he knew that not to be true. Then he recalled how he had scented a strange group of cats mixed in with Tigerclaw’s scent when he had gone to visit his sister shortly before. 

Of course camp had been so empty - Tigerclaw had planned this! He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, even as he leaped towards the leader’s den. The lichen hung eerily still over the stone mouth, even as the battle raged around them. He didn’t hesitate, shoving his way in before any cat could stop him.

Then he froze.

Tigerclaw stood hunched over the still body of Bluestar, blood dripping down his maw as he looked to see who had dared interrupt him. At the sight of the ginger tom standing there, his lips curled into a wicked grin, showing teeth stained with the blood of his leader. “You’re too late, kittypet!” He crowed, turning and rising to his full height as he stared down Fireheart with glittering amber eyes. “Even now, Bluestar’s lives slip away from her, tragically taken by one of Brokentail’s rogues as they sought to free him from Thunderclan’s grasp. No cat will suspect the truth.”

“Traitor!” Fireheart howled, launching himself at the tabby with a vengeful fury.

The deputy dodged out of the way with a mocking laugh. “You’re a fool if you think you can defeat me with those silly battle tricks that your pathetic little mentor taught you. I’d only planned to send you two back where you belonged, but if you insist on fighting me…” His claws unsheathed, glinting in the lowlight. “I’ll happily oblige.”

He easily ducked out of the way as Tigerclaw swung, his claws raking the air over Fireheart’s ears. He recalled what Tinyfrost had told him nearly a moon ago, after Bluestar had rejected the truth - He will underestimate an opponent that’s smaller than him. Use his arrogance against him. The words rang again and again in his ears as he stood, his blood blazing inside him. He might have been too late to save Bluestar, but he would not let Tigerclaw become leader. Not without a fight.

He leaped past the murderer towards the entrance. “Fleeing, kittypet?” Tigerclaw taunted as he pivoted around on one paw, using his momentum to launch himself onto the deputy’s back and dig his claws in. Tigerclaw howled beneath him as Fireheart dug in, bucking and clawing as he tried to get the smaller tom off of him.

He strained to find skin under the thick tabby fur, growling to himself as he couldn’t find purchase. In desperation, he snapped out at Tigerclaw’s neck, hoping to find the weak spot in his spine, but he whipped his head around at the last moment. Instead, Fireheart’s fangs sunk into one dark ear, and he pulled viciously to tear away a chunk of flesh.

Tigerclaw yowled in pain beneath him, and with one last kick finally flung the ginger tom off, sending him into one wall of the den. He immediately rolled to the side as he landed, just barely missing two heavy paws slamming into where he had been. He got to his feet, watching as a trickle of blood sped down the deputy’s ear. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that, kittypet.” Tigerclaw snarled as he spun to face the young warrior. “I’ll flay you alive!”

He lunged once more at Fireheart, but the ginger tom nimbly skipped out of the way. His heart was racing from fear, but he had never felt more alive. If he died now, he died knowing he had done what he could to save his Clan.

As they stared each other down, he realized that the stone floor beneath his paws was thick with blood. Bluestar’s blood, he despaired, glancing to the side to see the body still lying there. Tigerclaw took that moment to rush at him, but he quickly side-stepped away onto a dry patch of ground.

The tabby tom hadn’t been expecting it, and swerved to course correct; this time, however, it was him standing in Bluestar’s blood, and as he tried to change direction his paws slipped out from beneath him, causing him to land with a heavy thud in front of Fireheart. The ginger warrior was diving at the deputy before he could recover; his claws slicing away the thick fur above the shoulder blade, while his fangs dug into the soft flesh beneath it. Blood immediately spurted onto his tongue, and the caterwaul of the tom under him revealed that he’d found a soft spot.

Fireheart stiffened in shock as he felt Tigerclaw’s paws wrap around his sides. In any other cat, such a bite would surely stun them, but cats across all Clans knew of Tigerclaw’s legendary stone will when it came to fighting. He would not stop until one of them was dead.

He let go of Tigerclaw’s neck and wrenched himself to the side, hoping to free himself from the tabby tom’s grasp. Instead, they went flipping across the stone den as they lashed out at each other with claws and fangs. Fireheart felt wounds being torn into his side, but he didn’t dare to stop - couldn’t dare to stop. 

Just as he thought that Tigerclaw might get the upper paw, a black blur slammed into them, sending the two fighters tumbling in separate directions across the floor. It took Fireheart several moments to get to his feet, but when he did, he could see Tinyfrost had pinned Tigerclaw by his scruff and front paws.

“Tiny- Tinyfrost?” He stuttered out, his muscles burning even as he crossed the den to help pin the traitor’s back legs, which were still clawing desperately as he tried to get the little tom to let go. “How-?”

“Sandstorm sent Thornpaw to come get us. Yowled about camp being in danger before he ran off.” The senior warrior spat down at his old enemy beneath him through the thick scruff, his ice blue eyes burning with fury. “I think he went off to the Great Sycamore to get Mousefur’s hunting patrol. Brightpaw is probably off finding Lionheart’s and Darkstripe’s patrols.”

He let out a sigh of relief at that. Now he understood why he hadn’t seen either of the apprentices behind Sandstorm; she’d clearly scented the rogues coming and sent them to get help. “Tinyfrost, he… Bluestar…” He glanced back at Bluestar’s body that was still laying in her blood-soaked nest.

“I saw.” Tinyfrost’s eyes squeezed shut in grief for his dead mentor for a brief moment before they opened again. “No use dwelling on it. Help me drag him out of here.”

The two shepherded their new prisoner out into the clearing. Tinyfrost had been right: the other patrols had returned, along with Brightpaw. It seemed as though with their combined might, they had driven out the rest of the rogues while Fireheart had been fighting with Tigerclaw. Now the assembled fighters were assessing their wounds and the damage that had been done. As the three cats exited the leader’s den in tandem, all eyes turned to them.

“Tigerclaw! Why- What are you two doing?” Dustleap jumped to his paws, fur bristling furiously. “That’s your deputy you’re-”

“He’s a traitor!” Fireheart howled, shoving Tigerclaw to the ground before him. The deputy’s amber eyes burned with rage as he sprawled before the two former kittypets.

There were shocked yowls of disbelief at his words. “Tigerclaw has always been a loyal warrior, and a great deputy!” Patchpelt called from where he was sitting by the elders’ den, where all the other elders were slowly clambering out. “How could he be a traitor?”

“Tigerclaw has never been a loyal warrior!” Fireheart shot back, his eyes searching the crowd for Peppermask. At last he spotted her, near the nursery - as their twin green gazes met, she slowly nodded. It was time, at last, to reveal the truth. “Tell me, who here remembers Redtail?”

There was discontent as he spoke the name of the fallen deputy. “So what?” Darkstripe growled from near the front of the crowd. “Redtail may not have been his mate before he died, but he still got vengeance for his death at the claws of those-”

“And who told you that?” The ginger tom thrust his muzzle towards the black-striped tom. “Did not one of you think it was strange that Oakheart, known for his love of battle and for his great honor, would resort to such a dirty trick? Did you not think that it was strange that Ravenspirit returned to camp with a wound so terrible, he fainted because of it, even though he had supposedly not fought at all?”

The crowd murmured uneasily to each other as they pondered his questions. “Speak plainly, Fireheart.” It was Lionheart who spoke up now, his green eyes troubled as they looked down on his longtime rival.

“Tigerclaw wasn’t the one to kill Oakheart that day.” Fireheart announced to a series of shocked gasps. “But he did indeed kill that morning at Sunningrocks. The cat he killed was not his enemy - but his own deputy, Redtail!”

Yowls of shock and fury met his words, each cat speaking over another as they tried to question him. Fireheart stared at them, uneasy at the sea of faces of cats twisted into states of anger, fear, and grief. He had kept this hidden from them for so long. Would they blame him for not telling them sooner?

“SILENCE!” Fireheart startled slightly at Tinyfrost’s caterwaul beside him. He had never heard the little tom shout so loudly before, even when he was mad at his apprentice. He supposed he understood why his old mentor was so quiet otherwise - he was certain that even cats near Fourtrees must have heard the yowl. “He can’t answer anything when you’re all talking over each other.” Tinyfrost mewed, once again quiet as the crowd followed his command. “If you want answers, try asking one at a time.”

His heart thudded against his ribs as he looked out at the gathered warriors. At last, Halftail stood up, his golden eyes full of suspicion. “How do you know all this? You weren’t there.” The tabby elder pointed out before sitting back down.

He dipped his head. “I was not. But I was told all of this by a cat that was there. Ravenspirit saw his father murder his own deputy.” He glanced up towards the sky briefly, as though recalling the fallen tom. “It was his intention to tell us the truth before he fainted. When he came to, Tigerclaw threatened to kill him if he said a word against his father.” The tabby on the ground before him squinted angrily at him. They both knew he was lying, at least partially, but it was easier than explaining everything in detail. “But Ravenspirit’s silence wasn’t enough. That’s why he insinuated his own son was a Shadowclan spy to anyone who would listen - so none would believe him even if he did dare to speak up and tell the truth.”

“Stone-heart!” He blinked as Dappleshine stood, her green eyes filled with furious fire as she glared at the deputy whose son she had raised. “It’s because of you that Ravenspirit is dead!”

“How do you know he wasn’t lying?” Darkstripe yowled again, his pale yellow eyes narrow as he glared at Fireheart. Fireheart glared back evenly.

“I spoke with Riverclan.” He stated flatly, as he looked out on the crowd, meeting the gaze of each Thunderclan cat. “I asked myself, if Tigerclaw truly killed Redtail, then who killed Oakheart? Was it Redtail himself?”

“Redtail would never kill another cat!” Longtail spat as he rose to his paws, fur bristling angrily. “I was his apprentice, I should know!”

“I didn’t say he did.” Fireheart pointed out readily as he gazed back at the tabby warrior. “I asked Riverclan if they knew who had killed Oakheart. I was surprised to hear that it was not a cat that killed him, but a rockfall, caused by all of the rain the night before. Redtail and Tigerclaw were there when he died, but neither was responsible for his death.” He tore his eyes away from Longtail to look out at the rest of the crowd. “You can ask any Riverclan cat, and they’ll all tell you the same thing; even Mudwish and Mosspatch, their healers, who are above Clan disputes.”

Cats in the crowd began to uneasily eye their neighbors and whisper to each other. Could what Fireheart was saying really be true? “He thought that if he killed Redtail and pretended to have avenged him, he would be made deputy.” Fireheart explained, knowing that they were wondering the traitor’s motive, just as he had been. “But Quickflash was made deputy instead.”

“And I suppose you’re going to say he killed Quickflash too.” Darkstripe scoffed, but he could see fear in the black tabby’s eyes - he knew the truth, just as Fireheart did. His lip curled into a sneer at the realization.

“He did. He summoned Quickflash to the side of the Thunderpath, where the verge is thinnest, and pushed him out in the path of an incoming Monster. He had no chance to react before it was too late.” Fireheart looked to the back, where Peppermask was leaning against her mother. His heart ached to bring it up, but it had to be done. “This time, he was made deputy. Not through Starclan’s will, but through his own bloodied paws.”

There were hisses and jeers at his words. “Why bring all this up now, when we have Brokentail and his rogues to deal with?” Mousefur called from where she was sitting by her apprentice. “Surely this is a matter for Bluestar to decide.”

“Because he summoned Brokentail’s rogues here today!” Fireheart yowled, his voice loud enough to be heard by Starclan above. “He made sure every warrior and apprentice was out of camp except for Whitestorm and myself. I don’t know what he promised them for helping him - a place in the Clan, maybe, or hunting rights on our territory. Maybe it was just the chance to get their leader back.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It doesn’t matter. He made sure the camp was as unguarded as possible.”

A long, tense moment of silence stretched out between him and the crowd. “Why?” Mistspring questioned at last.

His shoulders sagged in defeat as he realized that even despite all this, Tigerclaw had achieved what he had sought to do. “Because being deputy was never going to be enough for him. He wanted to control the Clan, with no cat able to temper his power.” He looked down at his paws, trying to summon up the courage to tell the Clan a truth that he knew would break them. “While the rogues fought everyone left in camp, he slipped into Bluestar’s den and did what he had to do to make sure he became leader.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “He killed Bluestar.”

Stunned silence met his words. “That’s not possible.” He opened his eyes and looked out on the faces of shocked and fearful cats. “Bluestar is - he couldn’t kill her! He wouldn’t kill her!” It was Dustleap speaking, his golden eyes round and horrified.

“He did!” Fireheart howled, tears finally flowing down his face as his grief overcame him. “I realized what he had done, but it was too late. By the time I got inside, he had already killed her. I fought him, but…” He dropped his head in shame. “I couldn’t stop him. I was too late. I’m so sorry.”

It felt as though the weight of the sky itself was pressing down on him, suffocating him, drowning him in his own tears. He didn’t dare look up at the crowd. Despite all his knowledge, despite everything he’d tried to do, he had still failed them. Even if they cast out Tigerclaw, they were still leaderless.

“And you, Tigerclaw?” He recognized Lionheart’s steady voice speak up now, and pictured the giant golden tabby looking down on the other great warrior with disdain. “Have you anything to say in your defense?”

He heard something rustling, and opened his eyes to see Tigerclaw finally sitting up. “Oh, I have something to say, alright.” The traitor growled bitterly, his amber eyes burning as he glared at Fireheart. “That’s a tall tale you’ve told there, Fireheart. It’s a shame not a word of it was true.”

Gasps of shock met his words. “So you deny it?” Tinyfrost growled, his claws unsheathing as he glared at his enemy, the cat he had so longed to deliver justice and vengeance to.

“Fireheart himself admits that his tale comes from the mouth of my dead son, one who everyone knows always had an overactive imagination.” Tigerclaw shook his head wearily. “And even more, his ‘evidence’ that I somehow killed Redtail hinges on Riverclan, who every cat knows would lie to Starclan themselves if they thought it would make them look good!”

Fireheart bristled furiously. “You-!”

“I am ashamed I could not save Redtail before it was too late. That is my guilt to bear.” The deputy’s head hung and he gave a dramatic sigh. “But his death wasn’t my fault - neither was Quickflash’s. Tell me, Fireheart, did you see me shove my predecessor under a Monster’s paws? Or perhaps you’ll say that Ravenspirit witnessed it, or that we should go ask the very Monster that killed him!”

He didn’t give the young warrior a chance to interrupt. “I’ll tell you all what really happened. It’s true that I only left two warriors to guard camp - something that any cat can tell you happens regularly, now that we are not at war with any other Clan.” Tigerclaw shook his head sadly as he looked back up to the crowd. “I was told that Brokentail’s rogues had been scattered, and no cat has reported them on the border in moons. How was I supposed to know they would attack today?”

Fireheart’s heart dropped as he saw cats quietly discussing with each other. Surely they didn’t believe him? “And what about Bluestar’s body? The blood that I found dripping from your maw? You expect them to believe that was a figment of my imagination, too?” He interjected quickly, glaring back at the deputy as his own claws began to unsheathe.

“It’s true that Bluestar is dead. But as you would know if you had taken even a moment to listen to me instead of attacking, I was trying to save her.” Up close, he could see the treacherous deputy’s eyes glittering with thinly veiled contempt as he gazed down on the young warrior. “I did have her blood on my paws, but I was trying to stop the bleeding so a healer could arrive.”

“I said-”

“Tell me, Thunderclan!” Tigerclaw didn’t give him a chance to speak, standing and shouting to the crowd with his booming voice. “Who would you believe? A kittypet that openly admits to believing an enemy Clan over his own? Or your own loyal deputy, who has served this Clan faithfully for many seasons?”

Fireheart shook with rage as he stared up at the murderous tabby. How could this traitor try and claim that this was somehow his fault? Trying to twist his own words against him, if not openly lying about what had happened just moments before?

In the corner of his eye he could see the crowd shift, and he tore his attention away briefly to see the entire Clan looking between him and Tigerclaw. He could see Peppermask also looking around at the Clan, and Frostfur was scowling furiously at the deputy as her white fur hung off her in clumps. The rest of the sea of faces looked doubtful, and he realized with horror that they didn’t believe him.

His words stuck in his throat as he tried to speak, to say something that would convince them. He had known that his tale was difficult to accept, that Tigerclaw was held in such high regard that it would take truly momentous proof to out him as a murderer and codebreaker. But didn’t they understand? Bluestar was dead! If they let Tigerclaw get away with killing her, if he became leader of Thunderclan, then -

“I don’t know, Tigerclaw.” He blinked as he heard a familiar mew behind him. “Who should we believe?”

He turned around, his blood roaring in his ears. That voice - it couldn’t be-

But it was. Standing behind him was Bluestar, the leader of Thunderclan.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 49

Chapter 48 || Index || Chapter 50

Fireheart stepped up alongside the Highrock, staring at the giant stone as it loomed over the clearing. Tonight was the Gathering, and once again, it seemed as if he would be going alone. He hadn’t seen Bluestar since confronting her, and forcing her to go to a Gathering didn’t seem as if it was the best time to re-establish communication with her. So it seemed that he would be going alone once more.

Though he tried not to let his anxiety get to him, his stomach was doing somersaults as he bunched his hindquarters and prepared to jump. The leaders had all been kind enough last time, but he knew that curiosity had tempered their tongues - he feared what they would say now that Bluestar was missing her second Gathering. Newleaf had arrived in full force, and the rest of the Clans were surely gathering strength to -

“Fireheart?” He blinked out of his thoughts as he heard a familiar voice, abandoning his leap to turn and see Bluestar emerging from the lichen curtain covering her den. “You haven’t brought me the list of cats going to the Gathering. It’s the full moon tonight, or have you not noticed?”

He stared at her in confusion, while she returned his stare expectantly. Her tone was so manner-of-fact, he had to wonder if he’d somehow missed an apology; either to her or from her. Had they spoken recently and he’d forgotten about it? It had only been a few days, and yet-

“Fireheart.” She repeated, her icy blue eyes narrowing as her silver tail tip began to flicker. 

“Er-  Right. Us and the healers, of course, and the queens and elders that want to go - though I don’t suspect any queens will take us up on the offer, with Princess’ kits needing supervision and Frostfur close to kitting.” He didn’t know what was happening, but he would rather go along with it than start an argument in front of the Clan right before the Gathering. “Whitestorm and Lionheart want to stay behind in case too - so I was thinking Tinyfrost, Dappleshine, Mistspring, Willowbranch, Peppermask, Longtail, Cedarpaw, and Brackenpaw.” He left out Graystripe for obvious reasons, and Cinderspark, who had only taken to training Snowkit harder ever since Fireheart had broken the news about Bluestar’s decision to her.

“Thank you.” She stepped stiffly past him and scrambled up the Highrock - not as graceful as in times past, but still a sight better than when she had conducted Thornpaw’s ceremony. She was still abnormally skinny, and something about the way she moved was off, but she was better than she had been, and that alone gave Fireheart some hope for this Gathering.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!” She called out. Cats began filtering into the center of camp, looking shocked by the sudden appearance of their leader - especially, he noted, Yellowfang herself. He wondered briefly if this was going against Yellowfang’s judgement - but he had no time to question it now, with the leader already atop the rock and staring down at her Clan.

“The Gathering is tonight.” Bluestar mewed simply. It was a far cry from her normally elaborate speeches, and he could tell every cat knew it - still, none chose to question her just yet. “In addition to Fireheart, Yellowfang, Dewpaw, as well as any queens and elders that wish to come, I have chosen Tinyfrost, Dappleshine, Mistspring, Willowbranch, Peppermask, Longtail, Cedarpaw, and Brackenpaw to join us. Whitestorm will be in charge of camp while we are gone. Meeting dismissed.”

He could see some grumbles in the crowd as they dispersed - Dustleap and Patchpelt in particular looked displeased - but neither were vocal enough to reach his ears as he accompanied Bluestar to the camp entrance. He glanced questioningly at Yellowfang and Dewpaw as they approached, wondering if the healers were going to lodge their own complaint, but Yellowfang gave a grunt and a shrug that signaled to him she’d allow Bluestar to lead them tonight, even if she wasn’t happy with it.

They waited at the camp entrance for a moment to allow everyone to assemble, before Bluestar impatiently flicked her tail. “That’s everyone. Let’s go.” With that, she disappeared through the bramble entrance, leaving Fireheart to follow after her.

It wasn’t long until they were journeying through the forest, Fireheart keeping pace alongside Bluestar. “At the last Gathering, I told the other Clans about what happened with Tigerclaw and Brokentail. They know Brokentail was killed during the fighting, but they don’t know we were protecting him.” He mewed softly to her, trying to gently brief her on what had happened in her absence without upsetting her. She merely flicked a gray ear in response, so he continued. “I told them that you had been poisoned by Tigerclaw, and that’s why you couldn’t come to the last Gathering. I also told them about my sister’s kits, since you didn’t do it at the Gathering before that.”

She finally turned her blue gaze to him, nodding curtly. “Thank you, Fireheart. Is there any news from the other Clans I should be briefed on?”

He thought back quickly. Most of that Gathering had been such a blur - he’d been so relieved to be done with it, he’d nearly passed out before Tallstar had finished speaking. “I don’t remember them saying much of note. Tallstar and Nightstar both were pleased to hear about Brokentail’s death, and Tallstar promised that if Tigerclaw was sighted on Windclan territory, he’d be taken care of quickly. He also said if we needed any help, we need only ask.” He glanced back at the line of cats behind him furtively. Most were engaged in quiet conversation with each other, none paying close attention to the leader and deputy at the front. “Also, Yellowfang told the Clan that you had come down with an illness she didn’t recognize, which is why we had warriors posted outside your den. If you plan to address them later-”

“I see.” Bluestar interrupted him before he could finish, and he looked back to her to see that she was focused on the path ahead now. “What about Riverclan?”

Fireheart blinked slowly at her. Her tone was so dismissive compared to when he had first told her about feeding Riverclan, he suddenly felt wary that he was being baited into some sort of trap. Still, he felt compelled to answer her. “The river has returned to normal, so Riverclan is back in their camp, and I’ve commenced regular patrols along the border again. As far as I’ve seen, Riverclan is doing well, all things considered.” His spine suddenly prickled as he remembered what had happened after meeting with Crookedstar. “That reminds me - the tree bridge across the river is -”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as they emerged from the woodland bushes to see the now-fortified bridge. He had to admire the work of the apprentices and elders - it almost looked like the Twoleg bridge with how the branches had been artfully arranged to both stabilize the tree across and allow for safe passage for even the stiffest elder. “It caught some strong branches during the flood, so I had the apprentices and elders reinforce it so it was safe to cross.” He finished as Bluestar stepped closer, sniffing it delicately.

“You’re certain it’s safe?” The leader asked, testing the tree with one slender paw. It didn’t budge.

“It better be.” Fireheart turned to see One-eye approaching, rolling her one good eye. “Fireheart had the elders cross it more times than I can count to make sure it was safe for us creaky old crows. The way he was worrying, you’d think we couldn’t make it across without being carried like newborn kits.”

“I wanted to make sure the apprentices did a good job!” He replied, trying to keep his fur from bristling at her abrasive tone. He hadn’t meant it as an insult, though he could see how the elders might take it that way.

“And we certainly proved that they did, didn’t we?” He noticed the white elder’s whiskers twitching, and realized she’d merely been poking fun at him. “If these old bones can make it across, Bluestar, I’m certain yours can too. But if you’re so concerned, then I’d be happy to demonstrate.”

One-eye hopped up on the log without a second thought, crossing it nonchalantly. As she had promised, it didn’t even wobble beneath her paws, and Bluestar sniffed approvingly at it. “Good work, then.” She told him stiffly, before following the elder across. Fireheart stepped aside as the rest of the Gathering patrol lined up, preparing to make sure everyone crossed safely.

He kept a watchful eye as cat after cat stepped up. None paid him much attention, except for Peppermask, who nosed him in greeting before delicately climbing through the roots. He waved his tail in greeting, then turned his eyes to the two apprentices that had come along, who were whispering eagerly to each other. They nodded politely as they passed him, and he gave them a small smile. It was their first Gathering - though it seemed ages ago now, he remembered how he had felt when he had first gone with Pepperpaw, Ravenpaw, and Graypaw. Back when the Shadowclan elders had been his biggest problem…

He followed after Brackenpaw, doing his best to appear dignified even as he dug his claws into the barkless wood beneath him. It had been seasons since he had fallen into the river with Graystripe, but he still didn’t dare to look down - afraid that if he did, somehow, his paws would fall away beneath him and he would find himself in the river once more.

He was relieved to find himself safely on the other side next to Bluestar. “That’s everyone.” He told her confidently, like Tigerclaw and Quickflash had before him. Had Redtail said the same to her, for so many moons? He didn’t get the chance to ask as she nodded stiffly and turned away, proudly leading the Clan up the slope to Fourtrees. Just as she had for seasons before, and hopefully would for seasons after.

As they reached the top of the hollow, his eyes easily picked out the three leaders of the other Clans, their deputies positioned watchfully nearby. He did his best not to bristle at the sight of Leopardflame and Wolfstep. They wouldn’t be able to challenge him, now that Bluestar was with him, but the memory of the last full moon still made his hackles rise.

On Bluestar’s silent signal, Thunderclan raced to join the others in the hollow below. He longed to join the throng of other warriors and revel in tales of battle, but instead he reluctantly followed after Bluestar, Yellowfang, and Dewpaw to the Great Rock in the center of Fourtrees. He clambered up to where the other deputies were waiting, skittishly avoiding the Riverclan and Shadowclan deputies to sit alongside the only one that hadn’t lashed out at him - Deadfoot.

“Young Fireheart.” The older black tom dipped his head smoothly in greeting to the Thunderclanner. “I see Bluestar is well enough to attend this moon’s Gathering after Tigerclaw’s wretched attack on your Clan.”

“She is, thanks to Starclan - and Yellowfang’s constant care.” The ginger tom replied, looking anxiously out at the crowd of cats below them. The deputies weren’t situated quite so high up on the Great Rock as the leaders, but it still felt like a dizzying height. What if he fell from here, in front of all the other Clans? They’d all see, and then-

He realized with a start that Deadfoot was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to make conversation. Of course - he was deputy now, he was supposed to talk with the other deputies! “Er- I heard you had kits with Ashfoot, right? How are they doing?” He asked, giving his best attempt at a friendly smile to the other deputy.

The black tom’s dark eyes crinkled in a warm smile at the mention of his kits. “They’re all growing up so fast. Crowkit gives his mother such trouble arguing with her all the time, and Eaglekit and Kestrelkit are always trying to find new ways out of camp, the little scamps.” He shook his head sadly, even as his fond smile remained. “But Ravenkit - she’s my pride and joy, she is. Just like her mother, in all the best ways.”

Fireheart blinked in surprise at the familiar name, which Deadfoot observed even through his almost-closed eyes. “Yes, we named her after a loner that helped us when we were at our lowest. I’m certain that we wouldn’t have our four beautiful kits without his help.” The older tom observed, his smile dropping slightly as he gave the other deputy a steady, knowing stare.

He glanced at the other two deputies, but they were absorbed in their own talks. “I’m sure he would be honored to hear that.” Fireheart mewed, leaning into the Windclan tom so he could talk quietly. “How is he, by the way? You share a border with him, so you must see him-”

“Worried about you.” Deadfoot replied calmly, the smile completely leaving his lips as he trained his gaze on Fireheart. “He asked for news about Thunderclan when we last spoke, about two moons ago. I wasn’t able to give him any then, but he seemed quite nervous and asked me to tell him if anything happened to you or Bluestar.”

His heart sank as he thought of Ravenspirit, kneading worriedly at the ground as he awaited news of his friends back in Thunderclan. They had arrived so suddenly that night, and left just as quickly - and since then, he hadn’t had the opportunity to go and visit the lost Thunderclanner. “Please, if you can - can you find him and tell him what happened with Tigerclaw? Let him know that no Thunderclanner died in the attack, and that Tigerclaw and Darkstripe have both been banished. And, if it’s not too much to ask - can you tell him that if he ever wants to return home, he knows where to find me?”

Deadfoot dipped his head politely. “Of course I can. I’m sure Tallstar won’t mind me checking on our farthest border after the Gathering ends. It won’t be any trouble.” He glanced around to see if anyone was paying them any attention, but all the other cats nearby were too absorbed in their conversations to pay the two deputies any heed. “Tallstar filled me in about his situation. If I may be so bold as to ask - how was Tigerclaw involved in his ‘death’?”

Fireheart grimaced and looked out at the crowd of cats still happily chatting for a few heartbeats. Ravenspirit could have been one of them, if it weren’t for Tigerclaw. “He saw Tigerclaw kill Redtail.” Fireheart finally replied, turning back to the black Windclanner with his own focused stare. “When Tigerclaw learned of this, he manipulated the Clan into believing Ravenspirit was a Brokentail spy. Everyone believed Tigerclaw - after all, why would anyone say such terrible things about their own son if they weren’t true?” He felt his shoulders beginning to bristle at the thought - and the memory of his own involvement, however accidental it was. “I helped Ravenspirit escape and told the Clan he was dead - killed by Brokentail while defending us. His list of murders was already long enough - no one had trouble believing he’d kill an apprentice.”

Deadfoot looked disgusted at the revelation. “He killed Redtail?” He took a moment to ponder it before composing himself. “Redtail was a good cat - a fine deputy to Thunderclan. I won’t say that we were friends, but he certainly deserved a more honorable death than that.”

The young deputy nodded in understanding. “So I’ve heard. I never knew him in life - he died the day I joined Thunderclan, you see - but I saw how everyone mourned for him. I wish I could have met him.” He didn’t mention seeing Redtail haunting Thunderclan territory seeking revenge for his death - Yellowfang had already told him to keep it quiet once, and he didn’t see how another Clan knowing about it would do anyone good.

“Yet now you sit in his place.” Deadfoot observed calmly. His heart lurched at the sudden reminder that he was deputy, and his pelt started to prickle uncomfortably. To his surprise, the other deputy seemed to purr at his reaction. “I do not know why Bluestar chose you as deputy, Fireheart; I can only judge you based on what I have seen. And from what I have seen, you are compassionate and understanding, brave but not reckless, determined but not stubborn; all good qualities in a deputy and a leader both. As I said before, I was not especially close with Redtail, but I think he would be pleased to see a cat like you succeed him.”

Fireheart’s fur grew as hot as flames as he did his best to bow gratefully from a sitting position. “I- I’m honored you think of me that way, Deadfoot.”

Deadfoot slowly blinked in acknowledgement of the gesture as Fireheart sat back up. “You defeated Brokentail and his rogues - thrice, from what I’ve heard - and brought my Clan back home. There is not much you could do that would change my opinion of you.” He flicked an ear towards the gathered crowd of warriors. “And you have stood in front of all of them and addressed them as a leader would. That’s a difficult position to be in, even for a deputy as experienced as myself; that you did it on your first moon as deputy of Thunderclan is admirable, even if no one else quite understands that.”

He took in a deep breath at the other deputy’s words, trying not to show just how nervous that had made him. “I- It was scary.” He admitted as he slowly exhaled, looking out into the crowd. “I thought I was going to fall off.”

“Well, at least the healers are all there at the bottom to catch you.” Deadfoot’s whiskers twitched as he pointed out the circle of healers with a flick of his tail. “I remember my first Gathering as deputy. Heatherstar had just died - that was our leader before Tallstar, you see - and Tallstar had chosen me, of all cats, to replace him. I had only just started training Mudpaw - Mudclaw now - a few moons before. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I was so scared of messing everything up, but he was so patient with me. He explained everything to me, and kept his tail on mine the entire time in case I needed him.”

Fireheart glanced up the rock towards the leaders, where Bluestar was in hushed conversation with Crookedstar. “That sounds nice. I know that Bluestar… she has her own issues to worry about, but…” He trailed off, not sure how to explain how overwhelmed he was.

“And it’s not like Tigerclaw’s around to help guide you, either.” Deadfoot huffed derisively at the thought of the traitorous tabby. With a gentle flick, his dark tail came to rest on Fireheart’s ginger one as he looked earnestly into the youngest deputy’s eyes. “If you need any help or advice, you need only ask me. Windclan is a staunch ally of Thunderclan; after all you’ve done for us, a little advice is the least I can do.”

The Thunderclan deputy nodded and glanced out at the crowd, pondering Deadfoot’s offer. As an apprentice, he had been told that there were four Clans for a reason; that getting too close to one another would only lead to disaster. He had seen that with Silverstream and Graystripe. Yet, as he looked out now, he saw only old friends chatting with each other, apprentices playfully bounding over tree trunks while elders grouchily recalled days long past. 

Lionheart had told him that Bluestar was more eager to keep the peace with Windclan than fight over their wide-open territories; Tallstar himself had mentioned during the last Gathering that he hoped never to see his Clan war with Thunderclan again. It seemed unlikely that he would ever meet Deadfoot in battle, and so what was the harm of taking him up on his offer? He needed help more than ever these days.

“What does a deputy even do at a Gathering?” Fireheart finally asked, turning back to the other deputy bashfully. “I’ll be honest, I never really paid attention to any of them while they were on the rock. The only time I noticed them was at a Gathering a couple of seasons back, when Leopardflame spoke out against Bluestar.”

At the mention of her name, the golden tabby turned around with a snarl already on her lips. “What was that?” She brashly challenged the younger deputy, her sleek fur beginning to rise along her shoulders.

The ginger tom stared back at her steadily, refusing to be threatened by her aggressive display. “I was just talking to Deadfoot about the Gathering I was announced a warrior at - the one the Clans agreed to bring Windclan back, remember?” He replied nonchalantly. Surely she wouldn’t want to repeat her remarks in front of the Windclan deputy’s face, after all - she was unnecessarily bold, but even she couldn’t be that tactless.

Her nose rankled, though he couldn’t tell whether it was because of his calm demeanor or the memory of Bluestar’s lecture. “Whatever.” She spat at him before whirling back around to mutter something to Wolfstep.

Deadfoot observed the exchange quietly before returning his dark gaze to Fireheart. “Things might be different for Thunderclan, but I can tell you what Tallstar told me.” He answered at last, looking out over the crowd. “Before the Gathering starts, you’re supposed to keep an eye on the warriors of your Clan - make sure they’re not getting too rowdy in their boasting, stop any fights before they start.”

Fireheart blinked in surprise, looking quickly out at the many cats and trying to pick out the other Thunderclan cats. He wasn’t sure he even remembered who he had picked to come. “Does that happen often?”

“Almost never.” He relaxed at the Windclan tom’s words. “Maybe in leafbare, when prey is scarce and tempers flare, but once the temperature rises and the prey returns the warriors are more respectful of the truce. If two Clans are fighting, the more headstrong among them might get into an argument - but they don’t want to risk being forbidden from Gatherings for spilling blood on sacred ground.”

Fireheart nodded slowly, trying not to show his surprise at the last part. He hadn’t known that banishment for breaking that law of the code was an option; but then, he didn’t know the punishments for breaking most laws of the Code. “What else?” He asked, hoping the other deputy didn’t tire from his questions.

“It’s also important to talk to the other deputies and get to know them. As deputies, we may very well all become leaders one day. It helps to have an understanding of what motivates each cat and how they think when it comes time to negotiate with them.” He flicked an ear quickly towards the other two deputies. “Even merely listening can reveal a great deal of information.”

“LIke what?” The ginger deputy asked curiously as he glanced towards the Riverclan and Shadowclan deputies. He knew Leopardflame well, or as well as he cared to know her; much like Sandstorm, he imagined, she was stubborn and fierce, but still loyal to the code and her Clan. He knew little about Wolfstep; he imagined the dark tom hadn’t agreed with Brokentail’s leadership, given he hadn’t followed him into exile, but he didn’t know much of anything else.

“Take, for example, that spat you just had with her.” Deadfoot flicked his tail towards Leopardflame, keeping his voice low so she wouldn’t turn back to them. “I know by now that she only backs down from an argument on Crookedstar’s orders, or when she knows she can’t win. She only yields to strong cats that can best her in battle - cats like Tigerclaw, for example, who she was quite fond of.”

They both wrinkled their nose at the mention of the exiled deputy. “I mean no offense by this, since you’ve beaten Brokentail himself, but you hide your strength well. You’re not the kind of cat she would bow to.” Fireheart didn’t argue with Deadfoot there - he was hardly as big as Lionheart, Brokentail, or Tigerclaw, nor did he imagine he ever would be. “That she didn’t argue further means that she’s afraid of what Crookedstar would say if he overheard. Meanwhile, you were quite calm when you brought up her argument with Bluestar; you weren’t nervous about it, which shows you knew how she’d respond. Given your lack of experience, I presume that you’ve witnessed her back down because of Crookedstar before, perhaps during the moon which you spoke of.”

“Crookedstar has no love for Bluestar; he certainly wouldn’t scold his deputy on her behalf, unless he agreed with her. Given what you said transpired during that Gathering, and because it was you and your Thunderclan friends that came to find us, I assume that Bluestar insisted on Windclan’s return, and Leopardflame disagreed.” His ears perked as he regarded Fireheart. “Am I correct in my assumptions?”

He couldn’t help but feel a little spooked at how much Deadfoot had gleaned from such a short conversation; yet, he couldn’t deny that he was also impressed. “More or less. Bluestar was the one that scolded her for speaking out, and I was only so confident because I didn’t think she’d admit she thought you didn’t deserve your territory because you couldn’t defend it in front of you.” 

“She said that, did she?” Deadfoot still didn’t seem surprised. “Well, then consider it a history lesson from me to you, then. Windclan and Riverclan have never been friends; when I was an apprentice, there was a bloody war between us over two Riverclan kits whose father was Reedfeather, our deputy. One of those kits was Willowbreeze, Crookedstar’s mate; they were only kits then, of course, but I’ve been told they were quite close. He’s never truly forgiven us for trying to take her away from him, and he’s held a grudge towards Windclan ever since. Most Riverclanners have taken a cue from him, and aren’t shy about their dislike of us.”

Fireheart realized with a start that he’d already heard about this before from Graypool. He glanced at the elders, wondering if she was among them, but she didn’t seem to have come to this Gathering. “You’re talking about Graypool.” He mewed softly, staring at Deadfoot in surprise. “But she’s an elder, and-” He stopped himself before he could stuff his foot in his mouth. The black tom didn’t seem that old - but then, he supposed, Graypool had also looked rather young for an elder.

“And I’m not, even though I’m older?” The other tom thankfully seemed amused, his lips curling into a smile. “Well, they say in Windclan that we’re healthier and longer-lived thanks to our proximity to the Moonstone and Starclan. Can’t say whether I believe that, though.” He shrugged slightly. “I’ve not spoken to Graypool since she was taken back to Riverclan with her sister, so I can’t speak to her reasons for becoming an elder, but I understand she was quite close to her mate, Oakheart. Perhaps she found no more joy in hunting and defending her Clan when it didn’t have him in it.”

Fireheart nodded slowly. He supposed he understood that, in some ways. He didn’t have a mate, but if his sister died, he’d be inconsolable - he couldn’t imagine getting up every day and going on patrols as if nothing had happened. He also recalled what Whitestorm had said about Lionheart; how the golden tom had realized he didn’t want to be in a Clan without his now-mate in it. And Graypool didn’t have broken, aged fangs like most elders did, even if they had been significantly yellowed. Perhaps she had retired early, due to the death of Oakheart or maybe some other reason.

“Anyways,” He perked his ears as Deadfoot spoke again, “once the leaders start speaking, you should pay close attention. As deputy, you’ll typically be expected to relay the important announcements of the Gathering to those unable to attend. You’ll also need to keep in mind a Clan’s current strength if it comes to matters of war - though leaders also will never fully show their belly at a Gathering, either, if you understand my meaning.”

He didn’t - not really - but he was kept from answering by hearing a yowl from just above him. “Cats of all the Clans!” It was Crookedstar speaking this time. “It may be preciously warm tonight, but we can’t chatter like starlings until the sun comes up. Now that it is moonhigh, I think it’s time for the Gathering to finally begin.”

Fireheart was shocked to see it was indeed moonhigh already. Had he really been that engrossed in conversation with the other deputy? He glanced at Deadfoot, who only gave him a polite nod and turned to watch the crowd. The new deputy did his best to copy the Windclan tom, turning to look out at the assembled cats and wrapping his tail neatly over his paws. He hoped he looked good up on the Great Rock, not like the mess of a cat he felt like.

“Though the river swelled more than usual this year, it has also brought many new fish for my warriors to catch. Riverclan has thrived this past moon.” Fireheart did his best to keep a straight face as he stared out into the hollow. He hoped that Bluestar was doing the same - that she wouldn’t bring up Thunderclan’s involvement in Riverclan’s survival. He could see a couple of the Riverclan apprentices shifting uncomfortably at Crookedstar’s speech, and recalled how Tinyfrost had called him a terrible liar. Was that true for all young apprentices, he wondered? It certainly seemed like it from here-

“My daughter Silverstream has born two beautiful kits, true Riverclanners through and through.” Fireheart startled at the young molly’s name, realizing that he’d missed part of Crookedstar’s speech. Silverstream’s kits - Graystripe’s kits, too - had been born? Even though he longed to feel nothing but disgust for them, he couldn’t help but imagine how he had felt at Princess’ kitting - how small and soft his niblings had been then. Were Silverstream’s kits like that?

He heard a bit of shuffling above him - Crookedstar must have finished speaking. It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar mew of Bluestar above him. “Newleaf always brings welcome life to the forest. Thunderclan has thrived from the mild leafbare, and even now our nursery fills with kits.” She yowled out to the Clans. “Our prey is running well. We hope Starclan continues to bless us with their generosity in the coming moons.”

A short speech - but, he reflected, nothing had happened that was noteworthy for the other Clans. He was grateful, at least, that she hadn’t challenged Crookedstar on anything he said - neither Silverstream’s kits nor how the floods had nearly been enough to wipe out Riverclan, were it not for Thunderclan’s aid.

More shuffling. He wondered briefly if he was supposed to be able to recognize each leader by the sound of their pawsteps above him, but he didn’t get the chance to think about it before Nightstar was speaking. “Indeed, the mild leafbare has brought more prey back to the forest than my warriors can catch! Shadowclan’s own nursery is full of kits - kits that will be apprentices before long. Soon Shadowclan will be the largest Clan by far, with dozens of loyal and powerful warriors.”

A bit thick, Fireheart thought with a dismissive sniff - especially since there wasn’t actually anything solid in what Nightstar had said. Had the Gatherings always been so full of empty boasting? He glanced over at Wolfstep, the Shadowclan deputy, but he was staring rigidly ahead, and Fireheart quickly did the same.

Last was Tallstar, he knew, and it was only heartbeats before he heard the Windclan leader’s now familiar yowl. “Our rabbits are running as swiftly as ever - but my warriors are swifter, and thus Windclan is also doing well. We have three new apprentices with us tonight: Gorsepaw, apprenticed to Hazewhisper; Quailpaw, apprenticed to Pigeonflight; and Storkpaw, apprenticed to Thrushwing.”

Murmurs of congratulations spread throughout the crowd as they turned towards where most of the Windclan cats were sitting. It wasn’t hard to spot the three smaller forms in the crowd, especially since Fireheart had already met them as kits. Gorsepaw was surprisingly sturdy for a Windclan cat, looking almost like he belonged to another Clan were it not for his pale ginger coat. Storkpaw was an unusually short tortosieshell molly, barely meeting her mentor’s shoulder - if he didn’t know she was Gorsepaw’s sister, he would think she was still a kit herself. Quailpaw was the hardest to make out, a pale grey molly that almost blended into her white and black tabby mentor. 

Something about seeing them sitting proudly next to their mentors made his heart soar. It wasn’t so long ago that Gorsepaw had asked Fireheart about trees, as though they were as mythical as Lionclan warriors. Now he looked as comfortable as any other cat sitting beneath the mighty oaks of Fourtrees. Windclan was home, and they were thriving - and he was responsible for that.

“If no other cat has news to bring, then I believe that concludes tonight’s Gathering.” Tallstar paused for a few heartbeats, as though waiting for some cat to call out from the crowd. There was none. “Very well - may Starclan light your paths.”

“May Starclan light your paths.” The chant echoed around the Gathering as the crowds began to draw towards their individual Clans to leave back home. Fireheart glanced over at Deadfoot, who gave him a respectful nod before jumping off the Great Rock and trotting over to where Windclan was assembling. Fireheart did the same, only trotting towards Thunderclan.

Peppermask greeted him with a friendly nudge. “You looked like a natural up there.” She purred to him, her whiskers curling in a smile. 

Fireheart purred gratefully in response. He wished he could say he felt like it - but truth be told, he was still waiting for Whitestorm to follow through with his promise. Someone, anyone, would be better at being a deputy than him. Even Peppermask - though he knew that, like him, she wasn’t eligible to be deputy. At least she would be able to handle the stress of it better - that, he was sure of.

He blinked out of his thoughts as Bluestar brushed past him, her head held high as she flicked her tail for the Thunderclan patrol to follow her home. Everyone did so willingly - even now, the moon was setting towards the treeline, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun was rising. Fireheart himself was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sink into his cozy moss nest in the warriors’ den. At least tonight, there would be no worries to keep him up; the Gathering had gone well, and he had even made a new friend. What more could he ask for?

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 32

Chapter 31 || Index || Chapter 33

Fireheart settled comfortably into the frozen grass beside the warriors’ den, watching the camp around him settle down for the night. He had just finished visiting his sister and her five kits, which were quickly growing bigger as the days passed. Their eyes and ears were just starting to open, though it would be another half-moon before they could see beyond their own nest and begin to understand words. 

He had no responsibilities for the night or the morning after - Tigerclaw had either granted him a small reprieve from the constant barrage of duties or forgotten to punish him thanks to the night’s Gathering. The Gathering patrol had left for Fourtrees just as the moon was beginning to rise, and it looked to be a quiet night in camp until their return.

The thought nagged at something in the back of his head, and he sat up quickly with a frown. It wasn’t just quiet, he realized - it was too quiet. Only a pawful of warriors had stayed behind tonight, Fireheart and Cinderspark among them. Back when they were apprentices, that would have meant that she would stay up to chatter everyone’s ears off about what might be happening at the Gathering. But now, she was nowhere to be seen.

A quick glance around camp confirmed his suspicions - the dark gray molly had vanished. Tinyfrost and Willowbranch were on guard duty for the night, not that guard duty had ever stopped Cinderspark from being loud and obnoxious. He glanced into the warriors’ den, wondering if perhaps she had decided to get an early night’s sleep, but her nest beside his was empty. The more he thought, the more worried he became.

Where in Starclan’s name could she be? He looked around camp once more, anxiety beginning to gnaw at him, before his sights finally settled on the elders’ den, where Speckleflight and One-eye were casually talking to each other. Perhaps she was with Snowkit, given that she had often played with the young tom even before he had joined the elders’ den - not to mention he didn’t see the familiar white form next to his mother. 

He stood up, stretching out his limbs before padding over to the two elders, trying not to seem concerned. “Good evening, One-eye, Speckleflight.” He purred politely, giving them each a respectful nod. “Is Snowkit around?”

Speckleflight’s golden gaze narrowed slightly, and she looked away with a flick of her tail. “He just went off to the dirtplace.” She replied coldly, her voice devoid of the warmth she normally spoke about her son with. 

“I see.” He frowned, trying not to let his nerves overwhelm him. He somehow doubted that even Cinderspark would follow a friend to make dirt. “Well, have you seen Cinderspark anywhere, then? I noticed she’s not in her den, and-”

THUD!

He startled slightly as the fallen tree of the elders’ den shook from the force of some unseen impact. “What was that?” He growled, suddenly on high alert. Had a fox or badger gotten into camp without anyone noticing?

“What was what?” Even as she spoke, Speckleflight seemed almost as unnerved as he was. “I didn’t hear anything, and I haven’t seen Cinderspark, either. Now go away; we hardly need any nosy toms interrupting us.”

“I know I heard something.” He squinted, trying to peer into the darkness of the elders’ den, but he didn’t see anything inside. “You two stay here - I’ll take a look.”

“No!” He blinked as Speckleflight sharply rose to her paws to block him. “I mean - no, it’s fine. If you’re really so worried, I’ll go check it out myself.” She tried to play it off as nonchalance, but he could see a growing desperation in her eyes.

He stared at her, trying to parse her strange behavior. It felt familiar, and though he hesitated to push the queen, he felt he’d come to regret walking away now. “Is everything alright, Speckleflight? Nothing’s threatening Snowkit?” Normally, if her kit was in danger, Speckleflight would be the first to ask for a patrol to go looking for him. Why was that not the case now?

“No! Of course not. Snowkit is- he’s fine.” Her desperation and bluster were replaced by a sudden certainty, and he relaxed slightly. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. There’s no need to bother him.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Speckleflight.” One-eye huffed from where she was lounging beside the other elder. “He’s basically figured it out. You might as well tell him.”

“Tell me what?” He squinted at the white elder, who was staring patiently at her companion. As he did, that nagging in his subconscious grew stronger, and it slowly dawned on him why the newest elder was acting this way. She was acting just like he had when Tinyfrost had confronted him about Ravenspirit. He turned to her, his gaze softening. “Speckleflight, I - I promise you, as long as it doesn’t break the code, I won’t tell a soul if something is going on with Snowkit. I didn’t tell anyone he was deaf, did I? You know a secret will be safe with me.”

The dappled golden queen paused, surveying him with a narrow gaze. At last, she sighed and looked down at her paws. “Cinderspark is training him, in the space behind our den.” She mewed wearily, all of the fight leaving her as she spoke. 

“Training him?” Fireheart blinked at her in confusion.

“Teaching him to hunt, how to fight. Things a mentor would teach him if he were an apprentice.” Speckleflight snapped, her eyes narrowing to thin slits. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“No! No, I-” He paused, trying to compose his thoughts. “I just didn’t expect Cinderspark to be doing something like that for him. I’m glad she is, though. What Bluestar did to him… it’s not right.” His whiskers curled slightly at the memory. He didn’t know what place in the Clan there was for a deaf cat, but he was certain that Snowkit didn’t belong in the nursery or the elders’ den. “I’ll keep this a secret, Speckleflight. Snowkit deserves the chance to prove himself. Does anyone else know?”

The two elders visibly relaxed as he spoke. “All the elders do. Some are less favorable to it than others… but they’ve all kept quiet.” Speckleflight answered, her tail tip still twitching from the tension.

“I imagine Patchpelt can’t be pleased with having his snoozing interrupted.” Fireheart purred in response, even as he admired the dedication of the small group of retired warriors. They were some of the most gossip-prone cats in the Clan - asking them to keep a secret as big as this one wasn’t a simple favor, and that they were complying showed a sense of loyalty to the former queen and her young kit he hadn’t expected. “May I go see them? I’d like to see what Cinderspark is teaching him - and who knows, perhaps I can give them a few tips, myself.”

Speckleflight regarded him with a guarded curiosity. “I suppose so.” She relented at last, sweeping her tail towards a small gap beneath the tree that he hadn’t given notice to before. “If you go under there you’ll find them. Just be careful - they can get a bit rough sometimes.”

The two elders waved farewell to him and went back to talking as he ducked under the fallen log. He had just looked up to see a large white blur flying at him.

He rolled out of the way, watching as Snowkit slammed into the spot where he’d been with a wheeze. Cinderspark stood in the middle of the small space behind the elders’ den, which was not quite as big as the training hollow, but still much larger than he had anticipated.

“Fireheart?” The dark gray molly gasped as the two toms got to their feet. “What are you doing back here? Where’s Speckleflight and One-eye?”

He blinked at her, suddenly realizing why the two elders had been sitting outside the den rather than napping inside - they’d been keeping guard. It also occurred to him that it had been quite some time since he’d seen the space outside the elders’ den empty. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized what had been happening sooner. “They told me what you’ve been up to lately. I came back here to see how it was going.” He looked over Snowkit, who looked surprisingly upbeat given he had just been thrown across the clearing. “And it seems to be going very well.”

Cinderspark chuffed happily. “We’re practicing using an opponent’s momentum against them! I guess you must’ve heard it even in camp, though.” She frowned and looked down at her paws as she thought about it for a moment. “I suppose the training hollow must be empty with the Gathering. We can probably move up there instead, before someone else catches us.”

“Well, I actually came looking for you. I got worried when I noticed nobody talking my ear off.” He teased, whiskers twitching in amusement as the young molly pouted at him. “But if you keep throwing each other around like that, someone will probably notice eventually.”

“Yeah. The elders keep quiet, but if some cat like Dustleap found out…” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Hey, Fireheart! Now that you know, would you be willing to help me teach Snowkit a little? Speckleflight tries, but she’s too soft on him. But with your help, we could really teach him how to deal with tag-teaming, and stuff like that!”

He considered the proposition for a moment. He was tempted to say no - he was busy with so many other things these days, between hunting for Princess and keeping up with patrols. Still, he had come back here under the intention of doing that very thing - and he also felt guilty thinking of Snowkit, bored out of his mind in the elders’ den instead of getting to do normal apprentice things. “I’m pretty busy with hunting fresh-kill for my sister and her kits these days, but if I happen to have free time, I’ll see if I can’t stop by.” He mewed at last.

“Thank you Fireheart!” She almost collided with him as she raced over to give him thanks, causing him to wince in pain. “Hey, lemme just tell Snowkit what’s going on, and then we can get right over to the training hollow!”

He watched her launch into a series of movements, some he vaguely recognized from her explaining when he’d first found out the tom was deaf. He was glad that she had found something to direct all her energy into, and that thing was something that could truly make a difference in the Clan. He hoped, one day, that Snowkit might be able to get a proper apprenticeship, and with Cinderspark’s help he imagined one day the white tom might get that chance.

“C’mon, Fireheart! We’re off to the training hollow!” He blinked out of his thoughts at Cinderspark’s yowl, seeing that Snowkit had already ducked under the tree barrier and that the gray molly was about to follow behind. With a smile, he did the same. It felt good to be able to help another cat with their problems, simple as they were, for a change. It was certainly a welcome distraction from everything else happening.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 46

Chapter 45 || Index || Chapter 47

Fireheart stood on the stone floor of Sunningrocks, watching as dawn’s earliest rays began to cast a vibrant pink hue into the sky. Once he had stood here, water lapping around his paws; now the river was contained by its banks once more, leaving the hotly contested stones as dry as sun-warmed sand. It had taken nearly a half-moon, but at last, Riverclan could return to their territory once more.

He looked out towards where Riverclan was beginning to stir. When they had first sighted the Clan, stranded on the rocks, they had been nearly skin and bones; now, though still skinny, they seemed no different than any other cat after the harsh cold of leafbare. He couldn’t help but feel pride, knowing that thanks to his and his friends’ efforts, Riverclan would endure the terrible flood.

“Fireheart.” He focused his attention on Crookedstar, who was bounding towards them with his typical lop-sided scowl. “I’m sure you can see that the floodwaters have left Sunningrocks. Riverclan has no further need for Thunderclan help.”

The large tabby’s tone was harsh, but the young deputy did his best to overlook it. He knew that it had torn up Riverclan’s leader to accept help from one of their most bitter rivals, including the tom that had broken the code with his daughter Silverstream. With what he had learned from Bluestar regarding their past, he knew that Crookedstar had only suffered at Thunderclan’s paws - not even saving his Clan would be enough to change his mind.

“I’m glad to hear it. Will you be able to return to your camp now?” Fireheart asked amicably, flicking his ear towards where the Riverclan cats were disappearing into the reeds on the far bank.

The leader glanced over his shoulder briefly at the river. “I sent a patrol to scout the camp and see if it has re-emerged yet. The Clan is eager to get back to their nests and out of the wind.” He looked back at the Thunderclan cats, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think that means you’ll be able to take Sunningrocks back without a fight. This is still Riverclan territory.”

“Of course, just as I expect you know that any warrior that dares to enter the forest will find no leniency from Thunderclan. We’ll be returning to patrolling the border vigilantly.” Fireheart didn’t let his fur rise as he returned the thinly veiled threat calmly. It seemed as if any hopes for long term peace with Riverclan were unlikely, but he would still do his best to try and be cordial with the other Clans, even if they didn’t always feel the same. “What about Frogleap? One of your warriors told me he was missing. Has he returned now that the river has gone down?”

Crookedstar’s green eyes dropped to his paws. “He has not.” The giant tabby admitted with a heavy sigh. “Once we’ve returned to our camp, we’ll be sending out hunting parties to look for him.” 

“Thunderclan will keep an eye out for him from our side of the border. I’ll be sending a patrol to Fourtrees today to make sure we can get to the Gathering; if he’s there, we’ll let him know that Ivyskip and his kits are waiting safely for him.” After all, it was only a few short days until the full moon - they had to be prepared in case something had happened to their normal routes. “We’ll see you then, Crookedstar. May Starclan light your path.”

“May Starclan light your path.” The Riverclan leader returned to his Clan as they both stepped away from their sides of the border, the Thunderclan cats turning and plunging into the undergrowth. Fireheart let a sigh of relief escape him. Their task was finished; Riverclan had survived the flood, and now at last they could return to their normal duties without fearing getting caught.

“I’m so ready to get some sleep again!” Graystripe groaned as they padded along. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have been able to help, but I’ve been absolutely exhausted this past half-moon.”

“We’ve still got work to do today. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you’ve done in all of this.” Fireheart glared back at the dark gray tom, who shrank slightly under his wrathful gaze. “For now, let’s head for the log bridge and see if it’s still there, since we’re already out anyways.”

The three padded along the riverbank in silence, content to enjoy the warm newleaf air and the song of the birds in the branches above them. Things were finally looking up for a change; Tigerclaw was no longer threatening to destroy Thunderclan, Graystripe was no longer sneaking out every morning, day, and night to see Silverstream, and for the time being all the Clans seemed to be at peace.

Still, even as he tried to relax and enjoy the brightening sky and the forest around him, something nagged at the back of his mind. He couldn’t tell what it was; had he forgotten something? Was there something in the breeze? He glanced back at Peppermask, who was always the most astute when it came to danger, but she didn’t seem bothered at all. He sighed, trying to force himself to relax, but with every pawstep he took he could feel anxiety prickling in his paw pads.

“Fireheart?” He jumped at the sound of someone speaking, his eyes immediately darting to the source. Lionheart was padding towards him from the forest, accompanied by his apprentice, Thornpaw. “What are you doing out here so early?”

The young deputy forced himself to take a deep breath. It was fine; he had reason to be out here with Graystripe and Peppermask. “I could ask you the same thing.” He mewed with his best teasing grin, before glancing back at the two gray tabby siblings behind him. “I wanted to get up before daybreak and check the river, since it seems to be going down, see if it’s safe to patrol regularly again. Once we reach the bridge, we’ll be making sure it’s safe for a Gathering patrol to cross.”

He couldn’t read the giant golden warrior’s gaze, but he dipped his head smoothly in acknowledgement nonetheless. “It’s good to see you taking such care in your duties. That’s the kind of deputy the Clan needs.” He glanced at Thornpaw behind him, who was glowering into the trees. “As for us, I was taking Thornpaw out to hunt around the Owltree. Land prey is scarce around here due to the owl and the flood, so it’s a good place to practice tree-hunting.”

A logical explanation, one Fireheart remembered from when he had been an apprentice with Tinyfrost. The trees around here were stout but solid, good for dashing from branch to branch without fearing a bone-breaking fall. “Makes sense. I expect to see some birds and squirrels on the freshkill pile by sunhigh.” He directed the last part to Thornpaw, but the golden tabby apprentice either hadn’t heard him or didn’t deign to give him a response.

For a moment, he thought about pushing the issue, but he could see from Lionheart’s narrow gaze that he had already caught onto the apprentice’s dismissive attitude and would deal with it himself. There was no need for the deputy to step on the mentor’s paws, and so he turned away with a flick of his tail to the two gray warriors behind him. “Come on, then. Let’s see if we can’t also get a little bit of hunting in before sunhigh.”

They continued in silence past the Owltree, where the namesake bird was likely slumbering now that the sun had risen, and onwards into the forest beyond. He kept his paws light as they approached the tree bridge crossing to the Gathering, but he could already feel his heart begin to beat heavily in his chest as they approached. What if the log had been swept away in the floods? Would the Clan accept crossing by the way of the Twoleg bridge? He wasn’t sure, and-

He blinked in surprise as they walked out of the bushes and into the sunlight. The tree bridge was still there; but now, it was no longer alone. It seemed that during the floods, several large branches had swept into it and locked against its still-solid roots system, tangling into a mass of wood that seemed lodged against the muddy banks.

“Those branches might actually make the bridge more stable.” Peppermask observed as she approached it, sniffing curiously. “But this thicket’s probably going to be hard for the elders to get through. We should see about getting some of the warriors to prune it before the Gathering, so it’s easier to cross.”

“Good thinking.” Fireheart purred as he walked up to it. She was right, as always; Though he was certain he could maneuver through the tangled twigs, the elders weren’t nearly as flexible anymore. “I’ll see about sending a patrol of cats to take care of it after sunhigh. It sounds like a project the elders might like to be involved in, and I’m sure the mentors wouldn’t mind giving their apprentices some busywork while they take the evening off.”

He flicked his tail for them to start heading back. As they entered the forest, the silver tabby molly padded up beside him, briefly resting her tail on his flank as they walked. “You’re getting better at being a deputy, you know.” She purred quietly to him, softly enough so Graystripe wouldn’t overhear.

He refrained from scowling at her. He wished he didn’t have to be a deputy at all; though Bluestar was beginning to recover from whatever had plagued her, she was still too weak to help him with leading the Clan. Still, he didn’t dare say that out loud to her; she already knew his feelings on the subject. “Some days, it doesn’t feel like it.” He responded to her, equally quiet.

“The Clan is demanding, especially after… what happened.” She didn’t need to say it out loud; even though a moon had already passed, the incident was still fresh in everyone’s minds. “But newleaf is here, and prey is running well. Everything will be better soon, you’ll see.”

He wished he could believe her; he wanted things to be like when he was a young apprentice, when his problems were simple and straightforward to solve. Back when life hadn’t seemed so terribly dire, when their biggest issue was a fox out on the territory. Yet, even though everything did seem to be looking up, he couldn’t help but feel as if it was too calm; as if there was a storm, looming on the horizon, that only he could see. He was afraid of what would happen when that storm broke, and unleashed a torrent among the Clan that they might not be able to withstand.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 45

Chapter 44 || Index || Chapter 46

Fireheart had barely placed his mouse on the pile before he was already moving for the leader’s den to speak to Bluestar. Peppermask, Graystripe and Sandstorm stared after him, but he didn’t bother to pause and explain anything to them; he only had one thing on his mind now, and that was getting answers.

He nodded to Whitestorm, who was guarding her den, as he passed by. He pushed through the lichen curtain, as he so often had now that he was deputy. Inside was Bluestar, as he had expected; she stared sightlessly at the stone floor, her mind clearly elsewhere - just as it had been ever since Tigerclaw’s attack.

Would she even answer him if he spoke? He wasn’t sure. Still, he needed answers - and she was the only one with the power to give them to him. “You’re the mother of Graypool’s kits.” He mewed, giving a voice to the thought that had been swirling around in his mind since the confrontation with Sandstorm. It wasn’t a question; he knew it to be true, just as well as she did.

He stared at her, his heart racing even as he wondered if she had heard him. He was just about to repeat himself when, to his surprise, she looked up to meet his gaze. “So you figured it out.” She sighed at last, shaking her coat out slightly. “I suspected you would, eventually. Curiosity has always been the prerogative of the young.”

“You-” He didn’t know what to say to that, staring at her in the dark quiet of the den. Then a realization struck him, like a lightning bolt striking a dead tree, and fury blazed white-hot inside his heart. “You knew I would? Then why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me it was mere gossip and nonsense? Graypool told me their mother was dead or exiled - I wouldn’t have given it another thought, and-” He cut himself off as a lump formed in his throat. If she’d just listened to him, Tigerclaw wouldn’t have stayed deputy. Even if he hadn’t been exiled, his betrayal could never have happened, and Fireheart wouldn’t be-

“Because I had hoped I was wrong, and that you would be more loyal to your leader’s word.” She snapped at him, and for a moment he was suddenly overwhelmed with a fear that she would attack him - a fear that only grew as she rose out of her nest. “Come. I would rather talk without the potential for listening ears.” She mewed, flicking her tail for him to follow as she left the den.

He watched her leave, his mouth slightly agape. Mere heartbeats ago she had been only a gray lump of fur in her nest, yet now her head was held high as she proudly stepped out through the lichen curtains, her fur shining silver in the weak sunlight. It was such a dramatic shift in mere moments - a sudden return of the leader which he had admired for so long. Perhaps, he hoped as he nodded respectfully once more to Whitestorm, this meant that she would soon return to being the leader she had always been - and that she would finally find another cat to be Thunderclan’s true deputy.

They exited the bramble tunnel, heading down the ravine towards the clearing at the end. “When I-”

“There’s two sentries at the end of the ravine here.” He interrupted her before she could say anything, waving his tail to Lionheart and Thornpaw as they approached. Cinderspark and Peppermask would be relieving them from sentry duty shortly, but for now the pair of golden tabbies remained.

“There are? Why? For what reason was I not informed?” The leader frowned back at him, her blue eyes glittering with unreadable emotions as she glanced distrustfully towards the two toms as they passed.

“They’re watching the stream to make sure the flood doesn’t reach our camp. The river has flooded more than usual, you see, and there were worries that it might reach the ravine. We wanted a warning in case we needed to evacuate camp suddenly.” He paused at her last question, unsure how to answer it. Normally, he was certain that she would have been told, but with the state she’d been in…

“I see.” Her eyes were clouded and half-lidded, seemingly unsatisfied with his answer, but she didn’t stop to argue with him. Instead they continued onwards, climbing up the opposite ravine slope and heading out into the forest. Fireheart realized that they were heading towards the Twolegplace; fear gripped him as he wondered if she was planning on exiling him, too, but he forced his pawsteps to match hers as they wandered past bramble bushes that were still bare from leafbare.

The birds were chirping above them; his mouth watered at the thought of catching one, but he stayed loyally by his leader’s side, waiting for her to speak. She was silent, her eyes scanning the forest for unseen enemies, her ears twitching back and forth at every noise. “Only the dawn patrols will be out right now.” He mewed after several moments, wondering if she was worried about any other cat listening in. “Everyone else is back at camp.”

She nodded listlessly at him as she continued searching, and he realized she must be worried about a different kind of threat. Tigerclaw and Brokentail’s rogues (Tigerclaw’s rogues now, he supposed) had not been scented since the day of the betrayal, though Fireheart had kept a strict eye on the Shadowclan border and Twolegplace border nonetheless. Still, he couldn’t help but feel nervous that one day, Tigerclaw would make good on his threats. There was certainly never a better time than now, when both the leader and her deputy were out on the territory together.

“Did you know that there was once a prophecy about me?” Bluestar spoke at last, finally turning her icy gaze on him as she seemed to decide that they were safe. They had halted in a small oak grove, the ground covered in fallen leaves. They were still wet from all the rain, but Fireheart tried not to pay that any mind as he sat down.

He blinked at the question, but as he thought back he realized he had - long ago. “Dewpaw said Spottedleaf had mentioned it to her, once.” He mewed with a dip of his head, the mention of prophecies making him recall what Yellowfang had told him - about the prophecy that Shadowclan had received about him defeating Brokentail. Did Bluestar know about it? Should he tell her? No, he thought to himself - there was no reason to bring up the buried past.

She dipped her head and looked away. “‘A child born of storms approaches, who will roar through the forest with a tempest’s fury.’ That was what Starclan told my uncle Goosefeather, many seasons ago.” She glanced at her deputy to see him shift uncomfortably at the mention of the old healer. “I see you’ve already heard of him. He was a brilliant healer, but plagued often by visions - visions that often made little sense, even after they came to pass. He struggled often with the weight of his duties, a weight that few cats realize. He did his best, but his best often wasn’t enough for the Clan.”

“In any case,” She continued after a few heartbeats, her eyes wandering out into the forest once more, “When he received the prophecy from Starclan, he claimed to know immediately it was about me. My father’s name was Stormtail, so I was storm-born, or so he claimed.” She sighed again and shook her head. “But Pinestar didn’t believe him. He thought that the prophecy was referring to Adderfang - Adderpaw, then. He was born in a ferocious storm, you see, one where each strike shook the very ground beneath our paws while the rain poured down so heavily the Clan feared that our camp would wash away. Pinestar argued that only a kit born in such a storm could be called storm-born.”

Fireheart’s lip curled at the memory of the warrior - the one that had mentored Tigerclaw, and driven his apprentice to attack Tinyfrost. “I see you’ve also heard of him. Adderfang was many things, few of them good, but that was not always the case. He was an apprentice once, and had the potential to do great things.” She mewed, looking to him for only heartbeats before looking away once more. “Perhaps he would have, had it not been for the prophecy.”

“You must understand; back in those days, there was no peace with Windclan. Riverclan had taken much of the hunting territory we enjoy along the riverbank; even Shadowclan was more aggressive when it came to stealing our prey.” She closed her eyes with another bitter sigh. “Thunderclan was desperate to fight back. Us ‘storm-born’ were to be righteous champions that took back what was ours. There was enormous pressure on us to do what needed to be done; we were not to waste time with playing, or relaxing, or any number of other things the Clan believed to be unnecessary. We were to be the Clan’s greatest warriors, and we had to do it as soon as we possibly could.”

Fireheart shuddered as he considered that. He had wanted to prove himself, to be the greatest apprentice that Thunderclan had ever seen. While there had been pressure from cats to do what the Clan needed, from both the living and the dead, none had expected so much from him. “That sounds awful.” He mewed to break the silence. “Were you even allowed to be a kit?”

Her sad glance at him told him all he needed to know. “I handled it well, all things considered. Adderpaw did not. He often lashed out at me, as his rival - I sometimes wonder if he believed that if I stopped doing as well as I did, then some of the pressure might be relieved from him. It never worked, but… although I often want to blame him, I believe he was just the product of his environment, as I was.”

“The pressure only intensified once we were both warriors. We did what we could - we were the last apprentices to fight against Windclan, and he and I were both in several key battles along the riverbank that helped reclaim our territory. But as the expectations of the Clan grew… I must confess, there were times I wanted to run away from it all.” Bluestar glanced down at her silver paws, considering what she wanted to say. “And then I met Oakheart.”

“Every cat from Thunderclan refused to see me as a cat - as anything other than their savior. I could barely talk to them without them mentioning how nice it would be to have Sunningrocks again, or that they were looking forward to chasing Shadowclan off across the Thunderpath for good. Oakheart was the first cat that didn’t care about the prophecy, or what I was fated to do. He wanted to know me for who I was, not what I could do for him.”

A shy smile lit up her muzzle, a look that Fireheart had never seen on her face before. “I treasured every moment I got to spend with him. Our time together was forbidden, of course, as one of those things that was not strictly necessary for saving the Clan - not to mention that he was from Riverclan. But I didn’t care. I wanted something, anything, that I could have all to myself - without having to endure the Clan’s comments on whether it was appropriate of me to do.”

Fireheart nodded slowly as she spoke. He understood, in a way, what she was talking about. He was in constant worry of what the Clan thought of him now that he was deputy - and before that, when he was a mere apprentice, he had received all manner of comments on his kittypet status. Clan cats certainly weren’t shy about sharing their thoughts and opinions, a fact he knew well. That was why he had so deeply enjoyed his meetings with Princess - she hadn’t cared about how much prey he’d caught, or how loyal he was to the Clan. To her, he was a warrior, and that had been enough.

“As time went on, and we became closer, I found myself wishing that I could have something like him in my own Clan. Someone who loved me unconditionally.” Bluestar’s shoulders slumped as she spoke, her spine showing through her fur. “Having kits, of course, was the most forbidden of all for me - after all, a queen cannot hunt or fight while she’s nursing. But carrying Oakheart’s kits, I found I no longer cared whether the Clan shunned me for breaking from what they wanted. All I could think of was how beautiful they would be, how I would raise them to be proud Thunderclan kits - kits that would play, and laugh, and have all the freedom in the world that I did not.”

“But that didn’t happen.” Fireheart glanced towards where he knew Sunningrocks to be - where Bluestar’s kits were huddled miserably on the stone stacks, waiting for the flood to recede. “Why did you give them up?”

“I didn’t want to.” Bluestar sighed, and he could see her throat tighten as she spoke. “I wanted so badly to keep them. But a moon into my pregnancy, my uncle approached me. He told me that kits were not what Starclan had planned for me; that I had to fulfill my destiny, not waste away in the nursery. I kindly told him what I thought of his destiny.” Her whiskers twitched, and for a moment he imagined her furiously yowling at the healer. She could be terrifying when angry; he couldn’t imagine what Goosefeather had thought. “But then he told me that Tawnyspots, Pinestar’s deputy, was dying. He had come down with a rare sickness; one that is not contagious, but saps away your strength over seasons until there is nothing left at all.”

His ears perked in surprise. That almost sounded like what had happened to Bluestar after Tigerclaw betrayed her; could she have become ill with the very same disease? “I thought it was a ploy, but when I asked another healer; Brambleberry, Riverclan’s healer before Mudwish; she admitted that the sickness was real. Oakheart’s father had died to it that very moon. It took seasons for signs to show, but once they did, it was always fatal.”

“Every cat knew that either Adderfang or myself would become leader one day. It was only a matter of time.” Her ears were low as she recounted everything to him. “But Tawnyspots was young, and we both thought there would be more time. Because of the sickness, it was only a matter of moons before Tawnyspots retired. That would not be a problem normally, but because of my kits, I would be stuck in the nursery. There would be only one choice for deputy, and that was Adderfang.”

“I couldn’t let him be deputy.” Bluestar growled, even as her voice was thick with sorrow. “I had no choice. I had to get rid of my kits. I knew Oakheart would be a good father - and when I spoke to him about it, he told me he knew of a Riverclan queen that would be willing to take them. So I brought them, less than a moon old, to Sunningrocks. I let him take them away. Then I returned to camp with fox dung, tore a hole in the nursery, and let the Clan deduce the rest.”

“Though they might not have agreed with my choice to have kits, the Clan grieved for me nonetheless. And I grieved too - for the loss of the brightest future I could have hoped to have in Thunderclan.” He saw a tear shimmer softly in the morning light as it fell down her silver cheek. “From then on, I knew I could only be one thing - the savior of Thunderclan. There was no room for me to be anything else.”

“After a moon of grieving, I rejoined the Clan. I was given my nephew, Whitekit, as an apprentice - and Adderfang was given Tigerkit, Pinestar’s only son, as his. There were times I thought that my sacrifice would be for nothing.” Her claws poked briefly through her silver paws before she retracted them again. “Perhaps it would have been, had it not been for Adderfang himself. We were on a Twolegplace patrol, when we found a kittypet kit trespassing. He - it was so small, merely a moon old at most, and frozen in fear at the sight of us. It would have been enough to send it running home to its mother, but Adderfang-”

“He ordered Tigerpaw to attack.” Fireheart finished for her. She glanced at him in surprise. “Tinyfrost told me his perspective. He was telling me how he joined Thunderclan, and… it came up.” He didn’t want to throw it in her face that even Tinyfrost had known how horrible Tigerclaw was.

“I see. It’s always been rare for him to show other cats such trust… though I admit that was why I paired him with you. I had hoped your bright, eager nature would get him to open up.” She briefly wiped at her face with a paw, smudging the tear stains that ran down her cheeks. “Then you know I brought him back to camp for healing. I couldn’t- I feared if I left him there alone, he would die before his mother found him. It also happened that he was perfect proof of Adderfang breaking the warrior code, evidence that no cat could deny.”

“Pinestar punished him, of course, but it wasn’t until a half-moon or so later that the real punishment came. Tawnyspots retired to the elders’ den, too weak to continue his duties, and I was named deputy in that same ceremony. There was only one choice, thanks to Adderfang’s actions.” Bluestar wrapped her tail around her paws and shivered slightly. “It was only a season or two after that when Pinestar left. I became leader, with Redtail as my deputy. I led Thunderclan to new heights, a more prosperous era than Pinestar had ever dreamed of. But was it worth it?” She shook her head once more with another heavy sigh. “I used to think it was.”

 Fireheart watched her, once again a small and frail shell of a cat rather than the stately leader he had admired for so long. But while he resented the duties that she had dumped on him by naming him deputy, he found he couldn’t resent her in her current vulnerable state. He couldn’t blame her for asking if being Thunderclan’s savior was worth it - she had sacrificed her kithood, her mate, her kits, and in many ways her entire life just to save Thunderclan. And after all of that, what had she gotten?

Though she laid in her den all day, Fireheart could hear the constant criticisms of the Clan - criticisms he doubted had changed much since she had first become leader. None in the Clan were able to appreciate what she had given them - least of all Tigerclaw, who saw her sense of justice and mercy as weakness. She had sacrificed everything, and still it hadn’t been enough for him. It would never have been enough for him, unless she gave all her lives in its defense, so that he could lead in her stead. She knew that as well as he did - and in that cold fact, he began to understand why she would never want to leave her nest again. Why should she, when it would never be enough?

The two sat in silence for several moments, lost in their own thoughts. But as he mulled over everything she had said to him, more questions began to form in his mind. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you? After all, Snowstorm was your littermate - that made her as ‘storm-born’ as you. And what about Adderfang? Did he not have any siblings?”

She shifted slightly in surprise as he spoke. “I… Snowstorm was always so impulsive. She had a habit of closing her ears to anyone that tried to order her around. I suppose my uncle thought that I was more likely to fulfill the prophecy - or, perhaps, that not even Starclan could control her destiny.” Though her whiskers twitched, her voice lacked the mirth of a joke. “As for Adderfang… he did have one sibling. A brother - one that still lives, actually. You know him as Halftail.”

Shock jolted through him at the mention of the oldest elder. He was the brother of such a despicable tom? He realized Bluestar was looking at him with a mixture of sadness and something else he couldn’t place. “He’s quite different from his brother, isn’t he? He’s never had the same relentless drive as Adderfang. He’s a strong and fine warrior, but it takes a different kind of strength to lead. Pinestar himself lacked that strength.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt it already - how the weight of the Clan rests on your shoulders as you sit atop the Highrock.” Bluestar continued. His pelt prickled as he recalled how it had felt to look down upon the Clan when he had called them together for the Gathering. She turned away, even as her eyes sparkled with recognition of his discomfort. “A warrior’s life is about the Clan; caring for each member as though they were your own family, and fighting fiercely for them, even at the cost of your own life. A leader’s life is different - though I may talk to them, and watch them grow, I will always be separate from them. I am relegated to watching them as they go about their lives, placed upon the lofty pedestal that is the Highrock.”

She sighed and shook her pelt out as a breeze blew past them, carrying with it a familiar leafbare chill. “I may fight for them, and die for them, but even that greatest of sacrifices that a warrior can make is stripped of its meaning by Starclan’s nine lives. They will bring me back, over and over, so that I can watch the Clan continue on without me, until that day comes when I can finally - finally - rest.”

For a moment, Fireheart saw himself sitting in Bluestar’s place - a warrior that had been prophesied to save the Clan, forced to grow up too fast and too soon to save the Clans from themselves. He could see himself old and weary, his ginger pelt ragged as it stretched across his slumped shoulderblades. Everything he had worked so hard for would be forgotten with time; his family gone; the only thing left a Clan that hated him…

He took a shuddering breath, trying to focus on why he had spoken to Bluestar in the first place. “Bluestar, I… I have a confession to make.” He mewed guiltily, watching as her eyes turned back to him. He hoped she would understand his reasons - especially, he imagined, now that he knew her kits were part of Riverclan.

She studied him for a long moment, and he had to wonder what she was thinking. “Is this about Graystripe and Silverstream?” The silver leader responded quietly.

“It- what?” He blinked at her in shock. “You know…?”

She chuffed, though the mirth did not meet her eyes. “I see everything up on the Great Rock, Fireheart. I saw you flee back to camp after Brokentail called Yellowfang a kit-killer; I saw you and Peppermask sneak off into Windclan territory; and yes, I saw you speaking to Mistyskip and Graypool. At the time, I had believed… I hadn’t realized…” She trailed off, her blue eyes clouding for a moment before she shook her head. “In any case, it was not so long ago that I was once in love with a Riverclanner myself. I know all too well the signs to look for, not that those two were particularly subtle.”

Fireheart huffed bitterly. “Don’t I know it.” He growled, claws flexing as he recalled Graystripe bursting into camp to tell him the news of his half-Clan kits. “But I don’t understand - it’s against the code, isn’t it? Why didn’t you stop them?”

“Like you tried to stop them?” Her whiskers twitched as he flinched. “I only had my suspicions, really. Besides, I know from experience how futile it would be to get in the way of love. Only the consequences of their actions will be able to stop them now.” She sighed and shook her head. “Crookedstar, of course, tried to force Silverstream to stop. He too has already lost so much of his family; he didn’t want to lose his daughter to the inevitable. But to my understanding, that only brought them closer together.”

Fireheart blinked in surprise, suddenly recalling how Crookedstar had argued with Bluestar over Graystripe’s intrusions while meeting Silverstream. Was that what Bluestar meant? Then he remembered what Graypool had said to him about her meeting with Crookedstar, after Oakheart had brought her his kits; how he’d seemed to know before she told him, and told her not to worry about their Thunderclan mother. He’d know then, Fireheart realized; had he tried to stop Oakheart then, as well? Had he fought with his brother over his Thunderclan mate, just like Fireheart and Graystripe had fought over Silverstream?

“I didn’t want to tell you.” Fireheart mewed suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could even think them. “That day I fought Graystripe - I’d tried to get Silverstream to break it off, and Graystripe attacked me for it. I was afraid to tell you then, out of fear that you would exile him. Did you know then? Would you have exiled him?”

Her gaze was unreadable as she looked him over. “I had my suspicions then, yes.” She admitted slowly. “Which is part of why I punished him so harshly. And while I was disappointed in both of you, exile would not have solved anything. It is a terrible sentence - one that should only be given when there are no other options. You are both fine warriors. The Clan would suffer greatly without either of you.” She looked away, eyes darkening, and he wondered if she was thinking of the two recently exiled toms. “As much as I wish you would have told me, I understand why you didn’t. You are so loyal to those you care for - asking you to break that loyalty would be like asking a bird not to fly. It is part of what makes you such a great warrior, even if it does cause great trouble at times.”

The praise felt like claws raking across his heart. “Speaking of great trouble…” He did his best to give her a light, teasing grin, though it ended up looking like a grimace of  pain. In his head, he’d planned to give her a long, heartwarming speech, but now he found himself having trouble saying anything at all. “Bluestar, I… I’ve been giving prey to Riverclan.” He finally forced out, staring down at his paws and cringing as he waited for her scolding.

She was silent for a long time - too many heartbeats for him to count. When he finally looked up, squinting fearfully, he found her watching him with a surprising lack of hostility, given how every other Clan cat would react. “Fireheart, I told you once that you always try to do the right thing. I know that to be true, even more so now than I did when I first said it. For that reason alone, I am willing to hear you out.” Even as she said it, her tail tip began to waver, as it always did when trouble was brewing. “So tell me, then. Why are you giving our prey to Riverclan?”

He took a deep breath in and out. Bluestar had always been fair before. Even though she had faltered in the past season, he knew she would listen to reason now that everything was out in the open. “You haven’t seen the floods, Bluestar, but even Whitestorm says that they’re the worst that they’ve ever been - they’ve even reached the roots of the Owltree. All of Riverclan territory is gone. The waters are thick and difficult to navigate, and it’s too cold for the fish to swim in. It’s been four days since the river flooded, and it still has yet to go down - and it probably won’t for another quarter-moon.”

The leader’s eyes were downcast as she glanced away from him, towards the river. He could only imagine what she was thinking - though he didn’t dare to ask. “They’re already starving from leafbare, and now they have no way to feed themselves. Their camp was washed away in the flood, so now they’re huddled on the stones of Sunningrocks, waiting for the flood to go down. I know the warrior code says to be loyal to Thunderclan first, but it also says that we can’t neglect a kit, no matter their origin, and Peppermask said-”

“Peppermask? I thought you said that you were the one giving our prey away.” Bluestar interrupted him, her eyes narrowing. His heart pounded in his chest, suddenly afraid that he had just gotten the others in trouble as well. After he’d promised them that he’d take care of it…

“Peppermask and Graystripe are helping me.” He responded as he sank a little lower to the ground under her withering glare. “But we- They- I was out with them to investigate how far the flooding went into our territory when we heard kits crying. They were going to drown in the river, so we rescued them. That’s how I know about how hard it is to swim in the river right now.” He thought he could see his leader’s eyes softening, and took a deep breath to try and relax. “They were Riverclan kits, of course, and almost skin and bones. Peppermask said that they must have gone a quarter-moon, at least, without food to look the way they did. That’s why- I didn’t want to rescue the kits, only to hear that they had died of starvation when we could have helped.”

The ginger deputy watched as Bluestar’s gaze wandered away, her brows furrowed as she thought over what he had told her. “I see.” She commented softly, looking back at him. “And Peppermask and Graystripe - they agreed to this?”

He blinked slowly at her, trying to understand what she was asking. “I didn’t force them to help, if that’s what you’re asking. They both volunteered to do it on their own.” While Graystripe’s motive was less than pure, he knew that Peppermask was doing it for the same reasons he was - that they didn’t want to sit by and watch cats suffer. “We’re not taking from the freshkill pile to do it - we’ve been hunting near Tallpines, where the rest of the Clan won’t go because of the Monsters, and giving them most of what we catch. And we’re doing it all on top of our regular duties. I promise, we’re all still loyal to Thunderclan. We just can’t idly watch Riverclan die when we could help.”

The two Thunderclanners scrutinized each other, the forest still and quiet around them. Fireheart couldn’t tell what she was thinking - was she mad at him? He suddenly noticed her tail had stopped flickering. Surely that was a good sign, right?

Finally, she raised her chin, her decision made. “While I wish that you had brought this to me first, instead of taking it upon yourself to right the wrongs of nature, I believe that you had good intentions. As long as you are fulfilling your duties to the Clan, and the entire Clan is fed before any prey goes to Riverclan, then you are not breaking the warrior code, and I will not punish you.” She flicked her tail towards the river. “However, you are not to involve any cat that does not want to be involved, and you are only to give Riverclan prey as long as the river floods this moon, no more than that. Is that clear?”

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and nodded. “Of course, Bluestar. That is all I promised Crookedstar we would do. Once the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks, Riverclan will hunt for themselves once more.”

Her ears perked curiously as he spoke. “Crookedstar himself agreed to this? And I thought that stubborn old badger would rather die than accept help.” She shook her head wryly as her whiskers twitched in amusement. “And what of Riverclan? What is their end of the bargain?”

“We… convinced him to accept our help.” Fireheart recalled how the Riverclan leader had reacted when they’d extended the offer, as though they were trying to trick him. Did that have to do with his brother’s past with Bluestar? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “Riverclan- they haven’t crossed our borders, aside from those sent to pick up prey from us. We… I told them we didn’t want anything in return. I just wanted to help. Not everything needs to be an equal exchange, does it?”

He tried to appraise how Bluestar reacted to his words, but she was still as she looked out into the forest, towards where Sunningrocks stood. “As true as you may desire that to be, I doubt Crookedstar will so easily forget this. He is the sort of cat for whom honor is about repaying debts. Saving his Clan is not a debt that he will want to stand unpaid.” She considered it for several more heartbeats. “And it certainly wouldn’t hurt Thunderclan to be owed such a favor by Crookedstar.”

He wrinkled his nose up bitterly. As much as he could understand why Clan cats viewed every gift as some sort of personal sacrifice, surely life together was more important? Was it not better for cats to live in the Clans than to have to go to Starclan too early, when there was so much more they could do for the forest? Perhaps it was his shallow kittypet roots, but it felt more important to him to try and preserve life than to worry about favors and debts.

“I know, Fireheart.” The young deputy blinked out of his thoughts as Bluestar spoke, having seen his face. “I will not treat what you have done as a petty favor to bargain with, like some cats might. But surely even you can agree that it is better to have allies, even begrudging ones, than enemies?”

Fireheart had to admit that he couldn’t find fault in her words. “As long as you promise not to use it against Crookedstar without my permission.” He mewed at last. Perhaps Bluestar was right; the time would come when it was necessary for Thunderclan to obtain help from Riverclan, but he hoped that that day would not come any time soon.

Within a heartbeat, Bluestar drew herself up haughtily, glaring down at her deputy as her tail tip began to waver once more.“You’re hardly in a position to be bargaining with me, given many cats would call what you did an unacceptable breach of the code.” The ginger tom flinched, icy fear suddenly flowing through his veins as he crouched down in submission. “Nor does a leader have to ask ‘permission’ from any of her Clanmates - a leader’s word is law.”

The two sat there in silence for a long, painful moment, as his heart raced with panic. She was right - Fireheart had overstepped his bounds. Would she renege on their agreement? Would she punish him after all? They’d been talking so well - she’d seemed to have finally relaxed - 

“Still, I will do what I can to honor your word. Thunderclan and Riverclan have been at each other’s throats for so long… enough blood has been shed into that star-forsaken river.” Fireheart looked up to see that her tail had stopped flicking, and that she almost seemed to be smiling as she gazed down on her deputy. Was she - amused? It seemed impossible, but as he slowly straightened back up, he could see her whiskers twitching at his reaction. “It would be nice to be able to help each other for a change.”

With that, she turned to stare off into the forest once again, and he wondered if she was thinking about her kits. Had it been agonizing, having to constantly lead cats into battle knowing that it could be the death of her children? Or had she trusted that they had been raised into fine warriors that would survive the heat of any battle? Perhaps she had wanted peace for so long, but been unable to push for it out of fear that her ties to Riverclan would be revealed. Now that Fireheart had come along and-

“We should return to camp. I am sure you have patrols to get to, and Whitestorm is likely worrying his whiskers off about me in this cold.” Fireheart was whisked out of his thoughts by Bluestar’s voice, and he nodded reluctantly as they both stood and began walking back to camp. It felt as though their talk had finally laid bare the mysteries and questions that had swarmed not just around Bluestar but Fireheart and even Thunderclan as a whole. It was as if he was finally wading out of murky, unknown depths onto solid ground.

He wondered if Bluestar was feeling the same way. As he glanced over at her, he noticed that her head seemed to be raised higher than before, that her tail was no longer dragging through the slush on the ground. It was as if an invisible burden had been lifted from her, one that no cat had noticed she was carrying. Perhaps that was what had kept the once-mighty leader from healing from Tigerclaw’s attack, and now she - and the Clan - could finally move on.

He prayed to Starclan that was the case.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 44

Chapter 43 || Index || Chapter 45

“Get out here, Graystripe. Now.” Fireheart stood at the entrance to the apprentices’ den, his ginger tail lashing as he glared down at the ferns. “It’s time for you to do your duties.”

It had been several days since they had first begun hunting for Riverclan, and so far, no cat seemed to have suspected a thing. It helped that one of his conspirators was the very cat that he had fought in the middle of camp; who would possibly suspect him of willingly spending time around the other tom, let alone working to break the code? He could tell Peppermask was still anxious, especially once they were finished exchanging prey, but so far they’d covered their tracks well.

The large gray tom emerged from the ferns, his yellow eyes bleary from sleep. “Already?” The warrior grumbled, squinting at the moonlight in the sky. None of them had gotten much sleep since starting, and they were all exhausted from the constant rigors of the day; but, aside from in camp, they had upheld their promise without complaint. “Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

Peppermask was already waiting for them at the entrance to camp, and they solemnly filed out and along the ravine. They nodded to Lionheart and Thornpaw, who were keeping watch over the stream waters. The storms had finally stopped that evening, but Fireheart didn’t want to risk being caught unprepared until the flood finally subsided.

Once they were in the forest at large, they took off towards Tallpines. The giant tree-cutting Monsters there had quieted during the storms, their paws too heavy to move in the slick mud. Though the rest of the Clan was avoiding the hunting grounds in case the Monsters awoke again, it meant that it was easy for Fireheart and his friends to hunt undisturbed.

They were lucky - the Monsters were quiet once again that night. While most prey avoided Tallpines in leafbare, much like Thunderclan did, there were still those that were bold enough to try their luck foraging amongst the pine needles. Once the moon had set below the treeline, the three gathered their catches and made their way to the forest clearing that they would meet the Riverclan cats in.

Fireheart began pawing through the freshkill, dividing up what they would give to Riverclan and what they would bring back for their own Clan. After all, it would be suspicious if they returned smelling of prey but empty-pawed. He selected a cardinal, a couple of mice, and a sparrow for them to bring back to their own camp. They were meager offerings, especially compared to the significant pile that they had actually caught, but it would be enough to keep the Clan off of them, or so he hoped.

He looked up as the bushes on the far side of the clearing rustled, and two silver mollies stepped out to greet them. He recognized them instantly; Mistyskip and Silverstream. He was surprised to see Greystripe trot over to greet his mate, and his jaw dropped open in shock as the two nuzzled warmly against each other.

“I already know about them.” Mistyskip explained as she walked around them, giving the two side-eye as she did so. “Silverstream isn’t the most subtle cat in the Clans. Thankfully, most of Riverclan is too oblivious to notice. Or, I suppose, too scared of her father to say anything.”

Fireheart nodded, even as he averted his eyes from the two that were now twining tails together. “Graystripe is about as subtle as a lopsided badger. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Starclan themselves must be watching over him to keep them from being caught.” He huffed bitterly at the thought.

The silver warrior rolled her blue eyes with a small sigh. “Ah, well. You still have to love family, don’t you?”

The two Thunderclan warriors gave her a flat stare in response. “Do you know how we found out they were going to have kits?” Fireheart asked, knowing full well she hadn’t.

She angled her head curiously towards them. “I assume Graystripe told you, as Silverstream told me.” She replied evenly, though he could tell she was already wary of what they would say.

“He did.” Peppermask mewed beside him. He could feel his claws churning the earth beneath him as he recalled what had transpired less than two moons ago. “Brokentail’s rogues attacked us after sunhigh, when most cats had already left on patrol. We managed to get every cat to return to camp to fend them off… every cat but Graystripe, who was ‘hunting’.”

“That was the moonhigh I was named deputy.” Fireheart added, struggling to keep his tone calm and sociable. Even now, the memory brought back a level of rage he’d never felt before. “It wasn’t until the moon was setting, close to dawn, that Graystripe finally returned. We were guarding camp together, and he came straight over to us - didn’t even look around. It���s a good thing no cat died in that attack, or I’m sure he would’ve stood on their body to tell us.”

“Great Starclan.” Mistyskip breathed, stunned by the level of impudence that Graystripe had shown them. “I’d have been furious with him. He’s lucky you didn’t shred his pelt over it.”

“If words could wound, Fireheart would’ve killed him, I’m certain.” Peppermask chuffed, even as her dark tail tip twitched with the same anger that he himself was feeling. “Even threatened to exile him over it. He’s nicer than me - I would’ve just done it, in his paws. He knew for months how dangerous Tigerclaw was, and yet…”

“Y’know, I’ve been wanting to ask.” Fireheart perked his ears as Mistyskip spoke, her voice cautious but tinged with a familiar curiosity. “When you two were asking me about Oakheart and Sunningrocks - was that to do with Tigerclaw?”

“It was.” The ginger tom grimaced, even as he dipped his head in affirmation. It hurt that they had been so close to getting rid of Tigerclaw before he could harm Thunderclan - and now that he had betrayed them, nothing would ever be the same. “Tigerclaw claimed that Oakheart killed Redtail, and he had killed Oakheart in revenge. We proved that to be false - which put the rest of his testimony into question.”

“Oh.” Realization dawned in the molly’s pale blue eyes, and she looked at them with something akin to pity. His fur prickled uncomfortably at her gaze; to speak of such weakness in one’s Clan with an enemy warrior was unheard of, like showing one’s belly in the heat of battle. But Riverclan had already willingly done so with him; it felt only fair to reciprocate now. “Oh. I’d always wondered what happened to Redtail - none of your warriors ever really said. I didn’t - I had no idea…”

“Neither did they, really.” Peppermask admitted with a sigh. “Tigerclaw had nearly every cat fooled. Would have fooled me, even, if it hadn’t been for Fireheart. I just- I wish we could’ve stopped him, before it was too late.”

“I know you did your best. You’re the smartest cat in Thunderclan - and you too, Fireheart, if you figured all of that out on your own.” Mistyskip huffed and glanced at where Silverstream and Graystripe were cleaning each other. “Would that I could say the same for your brother…”

“He’s a lost cause.” The gray tabby sneered beside him, flicking her ear irritably in his direction. “But enough about our problems. How is Riverclan faring?”

Mistyskip’s nose twitched, and he could see shame on her face as she looked briefly at the freshkill that they had gathered for Riverclan. Most of the Riverclan cats Crookedstar had sent had come, tails low, to retrieve the gift before skulking back to their temporary home. Fireheart knew that none of them wanted to accept any gift from Thunderclan, their longtime enemies, and that many of them believed that they would be better off without outside help. But despite their misgivings, none had so far rejected the prey offered.

“Spirits are low, and there’s still a great deal of contempt towards Crookedstar for agreeing to this, but at least every cat has had something to eat in the past couple of days.” The silver Riverclanner admitted slowly, her tail tip flicking as she thought about what awaited her back in camp. “Personally, I’m glad that he did. My mother, Graypool, was refusing to eat until the queens and kits were fed. So were the rest of the elders, but she especially was fading away. She said she’d be glad to give her life to make sure that they lived, but thanks to you three we don’t have to make that choice. She’ll survive leafbare now, and hopefully many seasons beyond.”

Her eyes crinkled in fondness as she thought of the cranky elder. Fireheart watched her, the chilly sunrise several moons ago in which he’d spoken with Graypool at the forefront of his mind. It was obvious that Mistyskip still didn’t know the truth. What would she say if she knew she was half-Clan, like Silverstream’s kits? That her true mother had died, exiled from Thunderclan for the crime of loving a Riverclan tom?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He blinked and realized that he had been staring at Mistyskip while he thought of the secret that only he and Peppermask knew. Now she was looking back at him, clearly unsettled by how he was watching her.

“I- sorry.” He mumbled quickly, shaking his head. He’d promised Graypool not to tell her - nor would he tell anyone else. It didn’t matter that Mistyskip was half-Clan; she was a Riverclan warrior, and that was all that mattered. “Hearing other cats talk about their mothers - it makes me wish I had my own nearby sometimes, that’s all.”

He wasn’t sure she believed him, but dipped her head in understanding all the same.“What about the rest of the Clan? Aspenkit, Robinkit, and Dawnkit - are they doing alright?” He was thankful to hear Peppermask jump in, distracting the other molly from his disconcerting demeanor.

The Riverclan molly sighed and looked out towards the river, her blue eyes half-lidded. “They’re… alright, all things considered. Their father, Frogleap, went out to look for them when they went missing, but never returned because of the flooding. We’ve been telling them that he’s fine, and probably in Fourtrees waiting for the water to go down… but truth be told, we just don’t know.”

Fireheart winced as she spoke. Being separated from one’s Clan, even temporarily, was bad enough; with the flood, he couldn’t imagine what Frogleap must be thinking, if he was still alive at all. “I’d offer to go check on Fourtrees for you, but we still can’t reach it from our side of the river.”

She sighed and nodded slowly. “I suspected as much. It doesn’t matter, in any case; we will find him once the floods subside, one way or another.” She shook her pelt out and got to her feet with another sigh. “We should get going. The Clan is getting hungry, and I know you have your own matters to attend to. Silverstream! Hurry up now.”

They all glanced over at the two cross-Clan mates, who were pressed against each other so tightly it looked as if they were trying to merge into one. Reluctantly, the two separated, Silverstream winding gracefully across the clearing to stand by her cousin. She still looked painfully skinny, Fireheart realized, even though she was carrying kits; unlike Goldenflower and Princess, whose swollen bellies had seemed to make them twice as wide, she didn’t even have a noticeable bump. 

He watched them gather up the waiting fresh-kill carefully, waving goodbye to the three Thunderclan cats before turning and leaving the way they had come. Fireheart turned to Graystripe, who stank of Riverclan and Silverstream. “You need to wash your coat before we return to camp. We all do, actually, with how long we’ve been sitting here.” He couldn’t smell Mistyskip’s scent on him, but he was sure that those in camp would. “Let’s see about going home by the stream near-”

He paused as he heard rustling behind them. A squirrel? He turned curiously to look, and was shocked to see two green eyes glaring furiously at him. “Sandstorm?” He gasped, nearly falling over himself as he backed up slightly. “What- why are you-”

“I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I’ve already seen enough to figure that out.” The cream molly spat as she slid into the open, her tail lashing furiously. “Sneaking out at night, returning to camp in the morning while stinking of all kinds of prey but barely carrying any - you might have fooled the rest of the Clan, but I have a better nose than that.” She drew herself up with righteous fury as she glared at the three Thunderclan cats. “I can’t wait to hear what the Clan thinks of this.”

Peppermask looked at him in abject horror, but Fireheart barely paid her any mind. While he hadn’t outright been expecting this, he had prepared for someone to catch them sooner or later - he just hadn’t expected Sandstorm, of all cats. “You’re not to tell the Clan any of this. I’m your deputy, or have you forgotten that?” He could feel the two tabbies behind him tense, already expecting the other warrior to lash out, but he stood firm and tall in front of her. “It’s true that we’re feeding Riverclan, but it’s actually on Bluestar’s orders. And it’s because of her orders that we didn’t tell the rest of the Clan, as she feared they wouldn’t understand - much like you right now.”

Sandstorm stared back at him, blinking slowly. He could tell that she didn’t believe a word he said, but was stunned by the confidence in which he was willing to lie to her face. “You’re telling me Bluestar told you to break the code?” She drawled, pouring contempt into each and every word.

“It’s not breaking the code to give prey to another Clan.” He sat down, keeping his unblinking gaze fixed on her as he did so. He knew full well that if he showed any fear, she would know he was lying; so he forced himself to stay confident as he spoke. “Bluestar believes that there should always be four Clans in the forest. That is why she sent us to bring Windclan home. With these floods, Riverclan cannot swim in the river without risking getting swept away; they have no territory on which to hunt, and are already weak and starving from leafbare. Without food, they would be decimated. She doesn’t want to risk Riverclan being wiped out entirely.”

The tawny molly stared at him, clearly trying to parse how he could be so bold when she thought she’d caught him in a lie. “Why would Bluestar care about a bunch of hungry Riverclanners?” She scoffed after a few tense heartbeats.

“As I said - they were on the verge of starvation. Even their kits were starving, and you know how deeply Bluestar cares for kits after-” He suddenly cut himself off as the question rattled something loose in his subconscious. Bluestar’s kits had been lost long ago, though no one had ever told him how. He’d assumed, of course, that something tragic had happened to them - perhaps that they had fallen in the river, given how often she seemed to stare mournfully across the watery expanse. But what if he was wrong?

He turned to stare at the direction Mistyskip and Silverstream had gone, everything suddenly falling into place. Bluestar had lost her kits long ago. Whenever they approached the river, she always seemed sad and withdrawn. And then there was Mistyskip, who looked exactly like a young and scarless Bluestar, and had a Thunderclan mother. From what Graypool had told him, he’d imagined that Mistyskip’s mother was dead or exiled - but what if that wasn’t the case? What if she still lived in Thunderclan? 

What if Bluestar was Mistyskip’s real mother?

“After what?” He blinked out of his thoughts as Sandstorm spoke and turned back to meet her eyes. Now was not the time for such revelations, he knew. And though his mind was reeling over what he had just realized, he could not think about it now. It would have to wait until later, when he was alone.

“After she lost her own.” He finished with a dip of his head. “She is adamant that no kit starve if they don’t have to - and if that means feeding another Clan, so be it.” He flicked an ear, pretending to be irritated. “You can ask Bluestar herself if you don’t find her reasons suitable the next time you see her. For now, though, you can help us carry this back to camp.”

Even though she glared at him angrily, her tail lowered in defeat. “I very well might.” She growled as she padded past him to angrily snatch up the cardinal, before whirling around and storming away towards camp. With a nod, the other three Thunderclanners picked up what little freshkill remained before following her.

“Is your brain full of bees?” Peppermask hissed to Fireheart as she padded alongside him, out of Sandstorm’s earshot. “Bluestar doesn’t know any of this! If Sandstorm tells her-”

“I’ll take care of it.” The young deputy replied evenly through the mouse tail he was carrying. And he would - now that he knew the truth behind it all, he was certain he could get Bluestar to agree with him, whether she approved or not. “Trust me.” He added with a glance at the gray tabby, who was still clearly unsure of his newfound confidence. “I know what I’m doing.”