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“We’ll discuss that once I’ve spoken to Yellowfang,” meowed Bluestar calmly.
“You can discuss it with me now, Bluestar.” Yellowfang padded into the clearing, her head drooping with exhaustion.
“Have you left Brokenstar alone?” growled Tigerclaw, his amber eyes flashing.
Yellowfang raised her head and looked at the dark warrior. “Dustpaw is guarding him. And I’ve given him poppy seeds, so he’ll sleep for a while. Brokenstar is blind now, Tigerclaw. There’s no way he’ll try to escape. He’d die of hunger in a week, if a fox or a gang of crows didn’t kill him first.”
“Well, that makes it easier,” Tigerclaw snarled. “We won’t have to kill him ourselves. We can let the forest deal with him.”
Yellowfang turned to Bluestar. “We cannot let him die,” she meowed.
“Why not?”
Fireheart held his breath as he watched the leader’s eyes flick from Yellowfang to Tigerclaw and back again. He wondered if Yellowfang was going to tell Bluestar that Brokenstar was her son.
“If we did, we would be no better than he is,” replied Yellowfang calmly.
Tigerclaw’s tail flicked in anger.
“What do you think, Whitestorm?” Bluestar meowed before Tigerclaw could speak.
“It will be a burden on our Clan to look after him,” Whitestorm answered thoughtfully. “But Yellowfang is right—if we send him out into the forest, or kill him in cold blood, StarClan will know we have stooped as low as he.”
One-eye stepped forward. “Bluestar,” she meowed in her croaky old voice. “In the past we have sometimes kept prisoners for many moons. We could do it again.” Fireheart remembered that Yellowfang herself had been a prisoner when she first came to the camp. He waited for the medicine cat to remind Bluestar of this, but she said nothing.
“So you would really consider keeping this rogue inside our camp?” Tigerclaw’s eyes blazed with rage as he challenged his leader. With a pang, Fireheart couldn’t help agreeing with the dark warrior’s words. The thought of killing Brokenstar appalled him—he knew better than any of these cats what that would mean to Yellowfang—but Brokenstar was a fearsome enemy, even without his sight. Keeping him in the camp would be difficult and dangerous for all the members of the Clan.
“Is he really blind?” Bluestar asked Yellowfang.
“Yes, he is.”
“Has he other wounds?”
Fireheart replied this time. “I clawed him pretty badly,” he admitted. He looked over to Yellowfang and was relieved when the old she-cat dipped her head just enough for him to know she forgave him for wounding her son.
“How long till they heal?” asked Bluestar.
“About a moon,” Yellowfang answered.
“Then you may nurse him till then. After that we will discuss his future again. And from now on, he will be known as Brokentail, not Brokenstar. We cannot take away the lives that StarClan gave him, but this cat is no longer a Clan leader.” Bluestar looked questioningly at Tigerclaw. His tail twitched, but he didn’t speak.
“It is decided,” Bluestar meowed. “He stays.”
CHAPTER 27
Fireheart limped over to the clump of nettles and began to lick his wounds. He would go and see Yellowfang later, when she had finished tending to the other cats.
The weak rays of the setting sun threw long shadows across the clearing. Dustpaw had been relieved from his guard duty by Longtail. Tigerclaw had taken the rest of his unscathed raiding party out in search of fresh-kill. Fireheart’s stomach growled. He looked up at the sound of pawsteps, but it was only Sandpaw and Swiftpaw returning from their burial duty.
The two cats padded over to Bluestar, who was sitting beneath the Highrock with Whitestorm. Fireheart pushed himself to his paws and walked over to join them. With a flick of his tail he beckoned to Dustpaw, who was licking his own scratches beside the tree stump. Dustpaw flashed him a doubtful look but got up wearily and followed him.
“We’ve buried Clawface,” meowed Sandpaw.
“Thank you,” Bluestar replied. The ThunderClan leader looked directly at Swiftpaw. “You may go.” The black-and-white apprentice dipped his head and headed for his den.
Fireheart signaled to Dustpaw again to come closer. The tabby apprentice narrowed his eyes and padded forward to stand beside Sandpaw.
“Bluestar,” Fireheart began hesitantly, “Sandpaw and Dustpaw fought like warriors when Brokentail attacked. We would have been in much more trouble without their strength and courage.” Dustpaw’s eyes widened and Sandpaw looked at the ground as Fireheart spoke.
A purr rumbled from Whitestorm’s throat. “It’s not like you to be shy,” he meowed to his apprentice.
Sandpaw’s ears twitched uncomfortably. “Fireheart’s the one who saved the Clan,” she burst out. “He was the one who alerted the camp so that we were ready for Brokentail’s attack.”
It was Fireheart’s turn to feel embarrassed. He was relieved when Tigerclaw and the hunting party trotted into the camp at that moment, carrying plenty of fresh-kill.
Bluestar nodded at Tigerclaw and then turned to face Dustpaw and Sandpaw. “It makes me proud to know that ThunderClan has such fine warriors,” she meowed. “It’s time you both took your warrior names. We shall have the naming ceremony now, while the sun is setting, and then we can eat.”
Sandpaw and Dustpaw looked excitedly at each other. Fireheart lifted his chin and purred. Bluestar called to the Clan, and Fireheart felt even happier when he saw Graystripe appear from the warriors’ den. He hadn’t left the camp after all.
The Clan gathered around the edge of the clearing. Elders and queens sat with the apprentices and kits on one side; Fireheart waited with the warriors on the other. He looked at Cloudkit nestled beside Brindleface. The kit’s eyes shone with excitement, and Fireheart felt a rush of pride that his kin-kit could see him sitting with the Clan warriors. Bluestar stood in the center with Sandpaw and Dustpaw.
The last arc of sun glowed pink on the horizon. The Clan waited silently as it dipped out of sight, leaving the darkening sky pricked with stars.
Bluestar looked up and fixed her eyes on the brightest star in Silverpelt. “I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” She gazed down at the pair of young cats in front of her. “Sandpaw, Dustpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”
Sandpaw stared back, her eyes gleaming. “I do,” she replied.
Dustpaw echoed her words, his voice strong and low. “I do.”
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names: Sandpaw, from this moment you will be known as Sandstorm. StarClan honors your courage and your spirit, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” Bluestar stepped forward and rested her muzzle on top of Sandstorm’s bowed head.
Sandstorm licked Bluestar’s shoulder respectfully before she turned and walked toward Whitestorm. Fireheart saw her eyes flash proudly at her mentor as she settled down beside him in her new place with the warriors.
Bluestar turned her eyes to the dark brown tabby. “Dustpaw, from this moment you will be known as Dustpelt. StarClan honors your bravery and your honesty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” She touched his head with her muzzle, and he too gave the leader’s shoulder a respectful lick before joining the other warriors.
The voices of the Clan rose in tribute, sending clouds of misty breath into the night air. As one they chanted the new warrior names. “Sandstorm! Dustpelt! Sandstorm! Dustpelt!”
“In the tradition of our ancestors,” meowed Bluestar, raising her voice, “Sandstorm and Dustpelt must sit in silent vigil until dawn, and guard the camp alone while we sleep. But before they begin their vigil, the Clan will share a meal. It has been a long day and we have reason to be proud of these cats who de
fended our camp against the rogues. Fireheart, StarClan thanks you for your courage. You are a great warrior, and I’m proud to count you as a member of my Clan.”
The cats meowed again. A purr burst from Fireheart’s throat as he looked around at his Clan. Only Tigerclaw and Dustpelt eyed him with hostility, but for once he felt untouched by their jealousy. Bluestar had praised him, and that was enough.
One by one the cats stepped forward to take some of the fresh-kill Tigerclaw’s party had brought.
Fireheart walked over to Sandstorm. “We can eat together as warriors tonight,” he meowed happily. “If that’s okay with you?” he added. Sandstorm purred at him and Fireheart felt a prickle of pleasure.
“Choose something for me,” she called as Fireheart dashed away to the pile of fresh-kill. “I’m starving!”
Fireheart picked out a mouse for Sandpaw, temptingly plump for so late in leaf-bare. He took a bluetit for himself and turned to carry his catch back to Sandstorm. Then his heart sank—Dustpelt, Whitestorm, and Darkstripe had joined her. He’d been foolish to expect they would share their meal alone. This was a time for the whole Clan to share together in celebration.
