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Fireheart wished that he could believe him. Bowing his head in acknowledgment, he stepped back again, his fur flattening in relief that his turn to speak was over, and listened while Tallstar and Crookedstar gave the news from their own Clans—word of new apprentices and warriors, and a warning of extra Twolegs by the river.
When the formal part of the meeting was over, Fireheart sprang down to the group of ThunderClan warriors at the base of the rock.
“You spoke well,” meowed Whitestorm. Sandstorm’s eyes shone as she looked at Fireheart, and she pressed her muzzle against his neck.
Fireheart gave her cheek a quick lick. “It’s time to go,” he meowed. “Say your good-byes, and if any cat asks, tell them that ThunderClan is doing fine.”
Throughout the clearing, the groups of cats were breaking up as all four Clans prepared to leave. Fireheart began looking around for the rest of his warriors. He caught sight of a familiar blue-gray shape and bounded across the hollow to join her.
“Hi, Mistyfoot,” he meowed. “How are you? How’s Graystripe? I didn’t see him here tonight.”
Graystripe had been Fireheart’s first friend in ThunderClan; they had trained together as apprentices. But then Graystripe had fallen in love with Silverstream, a young RiverClan warrior, and she had died bearing his kits. Graystripe had left his own Clan to go with them to RiverClan, and though seasons had passed, Fireheart still missed him.
“Graystripe didn’t come.” The RiverClan queen sat down and curled her tail neatly around her paws. “Leopardfur wouldn’t let him. She was furious about the way he behaved during the fire. She says that in his heart, he’s still loyal to ThunderClan.”
Fireheart had to admit that Leopardfur was probably right. Graystripe had already asked Bluestar if he could come back to ThunderClan, but she had refused. “So how is he?” Fireheart repeated.
“He’s fine,” Mistyfoot meowed. “So are the kits. He asked me to find out how you were doing after the fire. Bluestar’s not seriously ill, you say?”
“No, she’ll be better soon.” Fireheart tried to sound confident. It was true that Bluestar was recovering from the effects of breathing smoke, but for some moons now the ThunderClan leader’s mind had been clouded. She had begun to doubt her own judgment, and even to question the loyalty of her warriors. The discovery of Tigerstar’s treachery had shaken her to her core, and Fireheart couldn’t help worrying about how she would react to the news that the deputy she had exiled was now leader of ShadowClan.
“I’m glad to hear that she is recovering.” Mistyfoot’s mew broke into his thoughts.
Fireheart twitched his ears. “How’s Crookedstar?” he asked, changing the subject. The RiverClan leader had seemed frail when he had allowed ThunderClan to shelter in his camp, and tonight, next to Tigerstar, he looked even older than Fireheart remembered. But maybe that wasn’t surprising. The RiverClan leader had had to cope with floods that had driven his cats out of their camp and with a shortage of prey because Twoleg rubbish had poisoned the river. More than all that, Graystripe’s beloved Silverstream had been Crookedstar’s daughter, and her death had caused him much grief.
“He’s okay,” meowed Mistyfoot. “He’s been through a lot recently. Mind you, I’m more concerned about Graypool,” she added, naming the cat who had raised her from kithood. “She seems so old now. I’m afraid she’ll go to StarClan soon.”
Fireheart would have liked to give the young queen a comforting lick, but he was not sure how the RiverClan cat would take that from a cat of another Clan. Apart from Graypool, Fireheart was the only cat who knew that the frail RiverClan elder was not the real mother of Mistyfoot and her brother, Stonefur. Their father, Oakheart, had brought them to RiverClan when they were tiny kits, and Graypool had agreed to take care of them. Their real mother was Bluestar.
As Fireheart murmured sympathetically and said his good-byes to Mistyfoot, he couldn’t help feeling that trouble was still in store for both Clans because of Bluestar’s secret.
CHAPTER 2
The sky was growing pale with the first light of dawn when Fireheart and his warriors returned to the ThunderClan camp. Although Fireheart knew what he would find, it was still a shock to reach the top of the ravine and gaze down at the devastation. All the covering of gorse and fern had been stripped away by the fire. The earth floor of the camp was left exposed, surrounded by the blackened remains of the wall of thornbushes that was shored up with branches where the Clan cats had begun to repair it.
“Will it ever be the same?” Sandstorm meowed softly as she came to stand beside him.
A wave of exhaustion flooded over Fireheart as he thought of how much time and work it would take before the camp was fully rebuilt. “One day,” he promised. “We’ve been through bad times before. We’ll survive.” He pressed his muzzle against Sandstorm’s flank, taking comfort from her reassuring purr, before he led the way down the ravine.
The bush where the warriors slept was still there, but the thick canopy of twigs had been burned away. Only a few charred branches remained, the gaps between them interwoven with sticks. Brackenfur was crouched outside, while Longtail sat on watch near the entrance to the nursery, and Dustpelt paced back and forth in front of the elders’ den.
Brackenfur sprang to his paws as Fireheart and the others appeared, only to relax a moment later. “It’s you,” he meowed, relief in his voice. “We’ve been expecting Tigerclaw all night.”
“Well, you can stop worrying,” Fireheart meowed. “He’s too busy to worry about us. Tiger star is the new leader of ShadowClan.”
Brackenfur stared in astonishment. “Great StarClan!” he said with a gasp. “I don’t believe it!”
“What did you say?” Fireheart turned to see Longtail loping across the clearing. “Did I
hear you right?”
“You did.” Fireheart could see the shock in the tabby warrior’s face. “Tigerstar has taken over ShadowClan.”
“And they let him?” meowed Longtail. “Are they mad?”
“Not mad at all,” Whitestorm replied, coming up to stand beside Fireheart. The elderly warrior scraped the bare earth with his paws and settled down on his haunches with a tired sigh. His thick white fur was stained with soot after the journey back through the forest. “The sickness almost destroyed the ShadowClan cats. They were desperate for a strong leader. Tigerstar must have seemed like a gift from StarClan.”
“It sounds like that’s just what he was,” Fireheart agreed heavily. “Apparently StarClan sent an omen to Runningnose to tell ShadowClan that a great leader would arise.”
“But Tigerstar is a traitor!” Brackenfur protested.
“ShadowClan don’t know that,” Fireheart pointed out.
By this time other cats were appearing. Brightpaw and Swiftpaw ran over from the apprentices’ den; Dustpelt padded up with Darkstripe’s apprentice, Fernpaw; Speckletail peered curiously out from the nursery. As they pressed around Fireheart with their questions, he had to raise his voice to make himself heard.
“Listen, all of you,” he meowed. “There’s something you need to hear.” And I have to tell Bluestar, he added silently, bracing himself for the encounter. “Whitestorm will tell you what happened at the Gathering,” he went on, “and then I want a dawn patrol.” He hesitated, looking around at the assembled cats. All the warriors were tired; those who hadn’t been to the Gathering had stayed awake to guard the camp.
Before Fireheart could decide who to send, Dustpelt spoke. “Ashpaw and I will go.”
Fireheart dipped his head gratefully. The brown warrior had never been friendly toward him, but he was a loyal cat to ThunderClan, and he seemed to accept Fireheart’s authority as deputy.
“I’ll go too,” Mousefur offered.
“And me,” meowed Cloudpaw.
