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“I knew it really,” she mewed. “It’s just that sometimes I dream about being in the forest, hunting with Brackenpaw, and then I wake up and the pain in my leg reminds me I’ll never hunt again. It feels too much to bear. I have to pretend that maybe, one day, I’ll be able to hunt.”
Fireheart couldn’t bear to see her in such low spirits. “I’ll take you out into the forest again,” he promised. “We’ll find the oldest, slowest mouse in the woods. It won’t stand a chance against you.”
Cinderpaw looked at him and purred gratefully.
Fireheart purred back at her, but there was a question that had been nagging at him since the accident. “Cinderpaw,” he began, “can you remember what happened when the monster hit you? Was Tigerclaw there?”
Cinderpaw’s eyes clouded with confusion. “I d-don’t know,” she stammered. Fireheart felt a pang of guilt as he saw her flinch away from the memory. “I went straight to the burned ash where Dustpaw said Tigerclaw would be, and then there was the monster and…I don’t really remember.”
“You wouldn’t have realized how thin the verge was there.” Fireheart shook his head slowly. “You must have run straight onto the Thunderpath.” Why wasn’t Tigerclaw where he said he’d be? he thought with a flash of rage. He could have stopped her from running out! Princess’s words rang ominously in his head. Was it a trap? He pictured Tigerclaw, crouching downwind, hidden among the trees, staring out at the verge, waiting—
“How’s Cloudkit?” Cinderpaw’s mew cut short his thoughts. She clearly wanted to change the subject.
Fireheart was happy to oblige, especially if it meant talking about Princess’s son. “Getting bigger every day,” he meowed proudly.
“I’m dying to meet him. When are you going to bring him to visit me?”
“As soon as Brindleface lets me,” Fireheart answered. “She won’t let him out of her sight at the moment.”
“She likes him, then?”
“She treats him just like her other kits,” Fireheart meowed, “thank StarClan. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if she’d take to him. He looks so different from her other kits.” Even Fireheart couldn’t deny that Cloudkit’s snowy pelt of soft fur looked out of place beside the other kits, with their forest-colored coats of short, mottled fur. “At least he gets on well with his nursery mates….” Fireheart’s voice trailed away. Hestared at the ground, feeling a twinge of anxiety.
“What’s the matter?” Cinderpaw prompted gently.
Fireheart shrugged. “I’m just sick of the way some of the other cats look at him, like he’s stupid or worthless.”
“Does Cloudkit notice these looks?”
Fireheart shook his head.
“Well, don’t worry then,” Cinderpaw mewed.
“But Cloudkit doesn’t even know he was born a kittypet. I think he just assumes he’s from a different Clan. But if they keep giving him these dirty looks, he’s going to realize there’s something wrong with him.” Fireheart looked at his paws fretfully.
“Something wrong with him?” echoed Cinderpaw in wonder. “You were born a kittypet and there’s nothing wrong with you! Look, by the time Cloudkit works out where he comes from, he’ll be able to start proving that a kittypet can be as good as any Clanborn warrior. Just like you’ve done.”
“What if someone tells him before he’s ready?”
“If he’s anything like you, he was born ready!”
“When did you get so smart?” Fireheart meowed, rather surprised by his apprentice’s sharpness.
Cinderpaw rolled onto her back with a dramatic moan. “Suffering can do that to a cat!” Fireheart prodded her stomach with a paw, and Cinderpaw squeaked before scrambling back onto her side. “No, really,” she mewed. “Look who I’ve been hanging out with lately!”
Fireheart tipped his head on one side questioningly.
“Yellowfang, you dope,” Cinderpaw scoffed. “She’s one sharp old cat. I’m learning a lot.” She sat up. “Yellowfang said there’s a Gathering tonight. Are you going?”
“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted. “I’m going to ask Bluestar later. I’m not exactly popular with the Clan at the moment.”
“They’ll get over it,” Cinderpaw promised. She nudged his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you go and find out if you’re going, then? They’ll be leaving soon.”
“You’re right,” Fireheart replied. “Will you be okay till Yellowfang gets back? Do you want me to fetch you some fresh-kill?”
“I’ll be fine,” Cinderpaw assured him. “And Yellowfang’ll bring me something. She always does. I’m going to be the fattest cat in the Clan by the time she’s finished with me.”
Fireheart felt a burst of happiness to see his former apprentice recovering her spirit. He was tempted to stay and keep her company, but she was right—he should find out if he could go to the Gathering. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he meowed. “There should be plenty of news from the Gathering.”
“Yeah, and I want to hear it all,” Cinderpaw mewed. “Make sure Bluestar lets you go! Quick!”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Fireheart retorted, getting to his paws. “’Bye, Cinderpaw.”
“’Bye!”
Fireheart stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked around for Bluestar. She was talking with Willowpelt outside her den. Fireheart reached them just as Willowpelt stood up to leave. The slender gray warrior nodded to Fireheart as she padded away.
Bluestar gazed at Fireheart with knowing eyes. “You want to go to the Gathering,” she meowed. Fireheart opened his mouth to speak, but Bluestar interrupted him. “All the warriors want to go tonight, but I can’t take every cat.”
Fireheart felt disappointed. “I wanted to see WindClan again,” he explained. “To find out how they’ve been getting on since Graystripe and I brought them home.”
Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need reminding of what you did for WindClan,” she meowed sharply, and Fireheart flinched. “But you’re right to be concerned,” Bluestar went on.
“You and Graystripe may come to the Gathering tonight.”
“Thank you, Bluestar,” Fireheart meowed.
“It’ll be an interesting Gathering,” Bluestar warned him. “RiverClan and ShadowClan have much to explain.”
Fireheart felt his ears twitch nervously, but he couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement as well. Bluestar clearly meant to challenge Crookedstar and Nightstar about their invasions into ThunderClan territory. He dipped his head respectfully to Bluestar and padded away.
As he collected two voles for Brindleface from the pile of fresh-kill, Fireheart noticed Yellowfang trudging into the camp. Her paws were muddy and her mouth was crammed with fat, knobbly roots. Her search for comfrey had clearly been successful.
Fireheart carried the fresh-kill over to the nursery. Brindleface was curled up inside feeding Cloudkit. The other kits had recently given up their mother’s milk, and soon Cloudkit too would have his first taste of fresh-kill.
Brindleface looked up as he entered, her eyes shadowed with concern. “I’ve just sent for Yellowfang,” she mewed.
Fireheart was instantly alarmed. “Is there something wrong with Cloudkit?”
“He’s been a little feverish today.” Brindleface leaned down and licked the kit’s head as he stopped feeding and began squirming restlessly. “It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d see what Yellowfang thought. I…I don’t want to take any chances.”
Fireheart remembered that the dappled queen had recently lost a kit, and he hoped she was just being overcautious. But Cloudkit did look uncomfortable. “I’ll come and see you after the Gathering,” he promised.
He ducked out of the nursery and headed back to the pile of fresh-kill to pick out his own food. Brindleface’s news had spoiled his appetite, but he knew he should eat something before the journey to Fourtrees tonight.
Longtail and Dustpaw were already standing over the pile. Fireheart sat down and waited for them to leave.
; “Haven’t seen the Cloudchick today,” meowed Longtail. Fireheart felt a familiar ripple of frustration at Longtail’s snide comment.
“He’s probably realized how silly he looks and decided to hide in the nursery!” mewed Dustpaw.
“I’d like to be there when he tries hunting for the first time. The prey’ll spot him coming a tree’s length away with all that white fluff,” Longtail sneered.
“Unless they mistake him for a puffball mushroom!” Dustpaw’s whiskers twitched as he threw a sideways glance at Fireheart.
Fireheart flattened his ears and looked away. He watched Yellowfang hurry into the nursery with a mouthful of feverfew. Unfortunately Longtail and Dustpaw noticed too. “Looks like the kittypet’s caught a chill. What a surprise,” meowed Longtail. “Goldenflower was right—he won’t last through leaf-bare!” The tabby warrior turned and stared at Fireheart, waiting for a reaction, but Fireheart ignored him and walked over to the pile of fresh-kill. He chose a thrush and carried it away to eat, feeling drained by the endless spite.
Graystripe was sharing his meal with Runningwind by the nettle clump. “Hi, did you have a good hunt?” Runningwind called as Fireheart passed.
