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“I’m not sure.” Cinderpelt blinked in confusion. “I thought I was standing in the forest, and I could hear something large crashing through the trees, but I couldn’t see what it was. And I heard voices calling—harsh voices, in a language that wasn’t cat. But I could understand what they said….”
Her voice trailed off. She stood gazing into the distance, her eyes clouded, while her front paws kneaded the ground in front of her.
“What did they say?” Fireheart prompted.
Cinderpelt shivered. “It was really strange. They were calling, ‘Pack, pack,’ and ‘Kill, kill.’”
Fireheart couldn’t help feeling disappointed. He had hoped that a message from StarClan might have given them some hint about how to deal with all his problems—Tigerstar’s reappearance, Bluestar’s illness, and the aftermath of the fire. “Do you know what it means?” he asked.
Cinderpelt shook her head, a lingering look of horror in her eyes, as though she faced a huge threat Fireheart could not see. “Not yet. Maybe StarClan will show me more when I’ve been to Highstones. But it’s something bad, Fireheart, I’m sure of it.”
“As if we haven’t enough to worry about,” Fireheart muttered. To Cinderpelt, he mewed, “I don’t know what I can do, unless we find out more. I need facts. Are you sure that’s all the dream told you?”
Her blue eyes still wide with distress, Cinderpelt nodded. Fireheart gave her ear a comforting lick. “Don’t worry, Cinderpelt. If it’s a warning about ShadowClan, we’re already watching out for them. Just tell me the moment you get any more details.”
He jumped as an irritated yowling sounded from behind him. “Fireheart, are you going to be all day?”
Glancing around, he saw that Sandstorm was waiting for him at the entrance to the burned fern tunnel. “I’ve got to go,” he said to Cinderpelt.
“But—”
“I’ll think about it, okay?” Fireheart interrupted her, his rumbling belly urging him to go and join Sandstorm. “Let me know if you have any other dreams.”
Cinderpelt’s ears twitched in annoyance. “This is a message from StarClan, Fireheart, not just a root digging into my fur or a tough bit of fresh-kill caught in my throat. It could affect the whole Clan. We need to work out what it means.”
“Well, you’ll be better at that than I am,” Fireheart told her, backing away from Cinderpelt’s den and tossing the last words over his shoulder.
Bounding across the clearing toward Sandstorm, he wondered briefly what the dream could have meant. It didn’t sound like an attack from another Clan, and he couldn’t think of anything else that might be a threat. As he tucked into the vole that Sandstorm had saved for him, he managed to put Cinderpelt’s dream out of his mind.
CHAPTER 4
Fireheart’s flanks heaved as he fought for breath, and his cheek stung where claws had raked across it. As he staggered to his feet, Brightpaw took a couple of steps back.
“I haven’t hurt you, have I?” the ginger-and-white apprentice asked anxiously.
“No, I’m fine.” Fireheart gasped. “Did Whitestorm show you that move? I never saw it coming. Well done.”
Trying not to limp, he padded across the training hollow to where Swiftpaw, Thornpaw, and Cloudpaw were watching. He had been assessing the apprentices’ fighting skills, and they had all held their own against him. They had the makings of formidable warriors.
“I’m glad you’re all on my side. I wouldn’t want to meet you in battle,” Fireheart meowed. “I’ve had a word with your mentors, and they think you’re ready, so I’m going to ask Bluestar if you can be made warriors.”
Brightpaw, Thornpaw, and Swiftpaw exchanged excited glances. Cloudpaw tried to look nonchalant, but there was a gleam of anticipation in his eyes too.
“Okay,” Fireheart went on. “Hunt on your way back to camp, and see that the elders and the queens are fed. Then you can eat.”
“If there’s anything left,” mewed Swiftpaw.
Fireheart flicked a glance at him. Swiftpaw sometimes picked up discontented rumblings from his mentor, Longtail, who had once been a close ally of Tigerclaw, but on this occasion he seemed to be trying to make a joke. All four young cats sprang up and dashed out of the training hollow. Fireheart heard Brightpaw yowling to Cloudpaw, “Bet I catch more prey than you!”
It seemed a long time since he had been that carefree, Fireheart reflected as he followed more slowly. Under the weight of his responsibilities as deputy, he sometimes felt older than the elders. The Clan was surviving, managing to find food and to rebuild the devastated camp, but all the warriors were overstretched. Fireheart was on his paws from dawn to sunset, and every night he went to his den with tasks still undone. How long can we go on? he asked himself. It’ll get harder, not easier, when leaf-bare comes. Already the few leaves that the fire had left on the trees were turning red and gold. As Fireheart paused at the top of the hollow, he felt a chill breeze ruffle his fur, though the sun shone brightly.
He slipped quietly back into camp and stood for a moment near the entrance, looking around. Darkstripe, who was in charge of the rebuilding, had started to patch the remaining gaps in the branches of the warriors’ den. Dustpelt was working with him and the two younger apprentices, Fernpaw and Ashpaw.
On the other side of the camp Fireheart saw Cinderpelt making her way to the elders’ den, carrying some herbs in her jaws.
In the center of the clearing, Goldenflower’s two kits were playing with Speckletail’s kit, while the queens sat watching them near the entrance to the nursery. Willowpelt was there too, carefully guarding her litter, who were much younger, from the rough play of the older kits.
Fireheart’s gaze rested on Bramblekit, the bigger of Goldenflower’s kits. That strong, muscular body and dark brown pelt were disturbingly familiar; no cat who looked at the kit could doubt that Tigerstar was his father. The thought always made Fireheart uneasy, and he struggled to push it aside. Logically, he knew that he should feel just as suspicious of the kit’s sister, Tawnykit, but though she shared the same father, she didn’t share the misfortune of looking exactly like him. Fireheart knew it was unfair to blame Bramblekit for his father’s crimes.
Yet Fireheart could not banish the memory of the young kit clinging to a branch of a blazing tree, wailing in terror as Fireheart tried to reach him. And he could not forget that while he was rescuing Bramblekit, the fire had trapped Yellowfang in her den. Had he sacrificed Yellowfang to save Tigerstar’s son?
Suddenly a shrill squeal came from the group of kits. Bramblekit had bowled over Snowkit and was holding him down on the ground with his claws. The squealing came from the sturdy white kit, who didn’t seem to be trying to defend himself.
Fireheart shot forward, barreling into Bramblekit and knocking him away from his victim. “Enough!” he snarled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The dark tabby kit picked himself up, amber eyes glaring with shock and indignation.
“Well?” Fireheart deman
ded.
Bramblekit shook dust off his fur. “It’s nothing, Fireheart. We’re only playing.”
“Only playing? Then why was Speckletail’s kit crying out like that?”
The glow died from Bramblekit’s amber eyes and he shrugged. “How should I know? He can’t play properly anyway.”
“Bramblekit!” It was Goldenflower who spoke, coming to stand beside her kit. “How many times do I have to tell you? If somebody squeals, you let go. And don’t be so rude to Fireheart. Remember, he’s the deputy.”
Bramblekit’s eyes flicked to Fireheart and away again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Yes, well, make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Fireheart snapped.
Bramblekit padded past him to where Snowkit still crouched on the ground. Speckletail was giving his white fur a brisk lick. “Come on, get up,” she meowed. “You’re not hurt.”
“Yeah, come on, Snowkit,” Bramblekit mewed, swiping his tongue over the kit’s ear. “I didn’t mean it. Come and play, and you can be Clan leader this time.”
Bramblekit’s sister, Tawnykit, was sitting a couple of tail-lengths away, her tail curled around her paws. “He’s no fun,” she mewed. “He never has any good games.”
“Tawnykit!” Goldenflower cuffed her lightly across one ear. “Don’t be so nasty. I don’t know what’s gotten into the pair of you today.”
Snowkit was still crouched on the ground, and got up only when his mother nudged him to his feet.
“Maybe you should let Cinderpelt check him,” Fireheart advised the pale tabby queen. “Make sure he’s not hurt.”
Speckletail swung her head around and glared at her Clan deputy. “There’s nothing wrong with my kit!” she growled. “Are you saying that I can’t look after him properly?” Turning her back on Fireheart, she herded Snowkit back into the nursery.
“She’s very protective of her kit,” Goldenflower explained. “I think it comes of having only the one.” She blinked fondly at her two kits, now scuffling together on the ground.
