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Stumbling slightly under the weight of the squirrel and one of the mice, he led the way to the fallen tree. To his relief, the water was no higher, and the crossing seemed easier now that he had done it several times. All the same, Fireheart felt uneasy as he scrambled through the branches, knowing that he was in full view of any ThunderClan cat who happened to be patrolling the forest’s edge.
He and Graystripe swam the last couple of fox-lengths and pulled themselves out of the river on the RiverClan side. When they had shaken the water out of their fur they slunk quickly toward the bushes where RiverClan had made their temporary camp.
A cat must have been on watch, because as they approached, Leopardfur emerged from the bushes. “Welcome,” she meowed, sounding a lot friendlier than she had when she first came upon them with the two kits they had rescued.
Fireheart followed her into the shelter of the hawthorn branches, remembering how he and Graystripe had hidden there to wait for Silverstream. The RiverClan cats had worked hard since the floods forced them out of their camp, bringing moss for bedding and scraping out a place beside the roots of a large bush where fresh-kill could be stored. Today this was little more than a pitiful collection of a few mice and a couple of blackbirds, which made the ThunderClan warriors’ contribution all the more necessary. Fireheart dropped his prey onto the pile, and Graystripe did the same.
“Is that more fresh-kill?” Stonefur appeared with Silverstream just behind him. “Great!”
“We have to feed the elders and the nursing queens first,” Leopardfur reminded him.
“I’ll take something for the elders,” Silverstream offered. She turned a long look on Graystripe and meowed, “You can help me. Fetch that rabbit, will you?”
Fireheart felt a sudden jolt of alarm. Surely Silverstream wouldn’t risk spending time alone with Graystripe in the middle of her own camp? On their earlier visits, she had kept her distance.
Graystripe didn’t need another invitation. “Sure,” he mewed, grabbing the rabbit and following Silverstream out of the bushes.
“They’ve got the right idea,” meowed Stonefur. “Fireheart, do you want to bring the squirrel to the nursing queens? Then they can thank you themselves.”
Feeling somewhat dazed, Fireheart agreed. Following Stonefur, he reflected again on how strange it was to look at the RiverClan warrior and know that he was half ThunderClan, especially since Stonefur himself didn’t share that knowledge.
In the makeshift nursery, Fireheart was pleased to see Mistyfoot again, stretched out on her side while her kits suckled contentedly. But he couldn’t help worrying about Graystripe. Once he had greeted the queens, and helped them divide up the squirrel, he murmured to Stonefur, “Can you show me where Graystripe went? We ought to be getting back, before any cat notices we’re missing.”
“Sure, this way,” meowed Stonefur. He led Fireheart to a spot farther along the ridge where three or four elders were crouched on a bed of heather and bracken, tucking into the fresh-kill. Already not much was left of the rabbit except a few scraps of fur.
Graystripe and Silverstream were watching in silence, sitting side by side but not quite touching, with their tails wrapped around their paws. As soon as they saw Fireheart they sprang up and padded over to him.
Graystripe’s yellow eyes blazed with a mixture of excitement and fear. “Fireheart!” he blurted out. “You won’t believe what Silverstream’s just told me!”
Fireheart glanced behind him, but Stonefur was already disappearing off into the bushes. The elders, having just eaten, looked sleepy, and none of them was paying any attention to Graystripe.
“Okay, what?” Fireheart mewed, his fur starting to prickle with unease. “But keep your voice down.”
Graystripe looked ready to burst out of his skin. “Fireheart,” he whispered, “Silverstream is going to have my kits!”
CHAPTER 14
His heart thudding, Fireheart looked from Graystripe to Silverstream. She quivered with happiness, her green eyes glowing with pride. “Your kits?” he echoed in alarm. “Are you both out of your minds? This is disastrous!”
Graystripe blinked and would not meet his friend’s eyes. “Not…not necessarily. I mean, these kits will join us together forever.”
“But you come from different Clans!” Fireheart protested. From the uneasiness in Graystripe’s expression, he guessed that his friend knew very well what difficulties the kits would cause. “You can’t ever claim these kits as your own, Graystripe. And Silverstream,” he added, turning toward the RiverClan cat, “you won’t be able to tell anyone in your Clan who the father is.”
“I don’t care,” Silverstream insisted, giving her chest fur a quick lick. “I’ll know. That’s all that matters.”
Graystripe looked as if he wasn’t too sure of that. “It’s stupid that they can’t know,” he muttered. “We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.” He pressed himself against Silverstream’s flank and shot Fireheart a helpless glance.
“I know that’s what you feel,” Fireheart agreed heavily. “But it’s no good, Graystripe; you know it isn’t. These will be RiverClan kits.” His heart sank at the thought of the trouble this could cause in the future. When these kits grew to be warriors, Graystripe might have to fight against them! He would be torn between loyalty to his blood kin, and loyalty to his Clan and the warrior code. Fireheart could not see any way for him to keep faith with both.
Had it been the same with Mistyfoot and Stonefur? he wondered. Had their ThunderClan parents ever had to fight against them? He remembered Oakheart, trying to defend them from ThunderClan attack; how had the RiverClan warrior explained that to them? It was an impossible situation, and now it would all begin again with a new set of kits.
But Fireheart knew it was pointless to say this now. Glancing up and down the line of bushes in case any cat was approaching, he meowed, “It’s time we were going. It must be sunhigh. They’ll miss us back at camp.”
Graystripe touched his nose gently to Silverstream’s. “Fireheart’s right,” he murmured. “We must go. And don’t worry,” he added. “They’ll be the most beautiful kits in the forest.”
Silverstream’s eyes narrowed with affection, and her voice came in a deep purr. “I know. We’ll find a way to get through this.” She stood watching as Fireheart and Graystripe left the bushes and padded down the slope toward the flooded river. Graystripe kept looking back, as if he could hardly bear to leave her.
Fireheart felt as if he were carrying a cold, heavy stone in his chest. How long can this go on, he wondered, before some cat finds out?
He was still feeling weighed down with anxiety as they crossed the tree trunk and went back into ThunderClan territory, though he tried hard to push the problem out of his mind. Right now it was more important to decide what to say if any cat had noticed their absence.
“I think we should hunt for a bit,” he told Graystripe. “Then at least—”
An excited meow from the edge of the forest interrupted him. “Fireheart! Fireheart!”
Fireheart stared in disbelief as a small white body crashed out of the bracken at the edge of the trees. Cloudkit!
“Oh, mousedung!” muttered Graystripe.
Fireheart padded across the grass, his heart sinking. “Cloudkit, what are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told you to stay in the nursery.”
“I tracked you,” Cloudkit announced proudly. “All the way from camp.”
As he looked at the kit’s shining blue eyes, Fireheart felt sick with apprehension. Their chances of slipping back into camp with a story of early hunting had just vanished. Cloudkit must have seen them crossing the river.
“I followed your scent trail right up to the stepping-stones,” Cloudkit went on. “Fireheart, what were you and Graystripe doing in RiverClan territory?”
Before Fireheart could think of a reply, another voice broke in—a low, menacing growl. “Yes, that’s what I would like to know, too.”
Fireheart felt the st
rength drain out of his paws as he looked up to see Tigerclaw shouldering his way through the crisp brown bracken.
“Fireheart’s really brave!” mewed Cloudkit, while Fireheart stood with his mouth half-open, panic turning his brain to feathers. “He went out on a special warrior mission—he told me so.”
“Did he now?” hissed Tigerclaw, an interested gleam in his eyes. “And did he tell you what this special warrior mission was?”
“No, but I can guess.” Cloudkit trembled with excitement. “He’s been with Graystripe to spy on RiverClan. Fireheart, did you—”
“Quiet, kit,” snapped Tigerclaw. “Well?” he challenged Fireheart. “Is that true?”
Fireheart glanced at Graystripe. His friend was frozen, his yellow eyes staring in horror at the deputy; obviously there would be no helpful suggestions from him.
“We wanted to see how far the floods went,” Fireheart meowed. That was not exactly a lie.
“Oh?” Tigerclaw paused while he looked deliberately in all directions and then asked, “What happened to the rest of your patrol? And some cat must have sent you,” he added, before Fireheart could reply. “It wasn’t me, even though I sent out all the other patrols.”
