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He paused. Both apprentices were staring at him with disbelief and horror in their eyes.
“You mean…he killed a cat of his own Clan?” Tawnypaw faltered.
“I don’t believe it!” Bramblepaw let out a desperate cry.
“It’s true,” Fireheart meowed, feeling sick with the effort of telling these kits the truth about their father’s treachery in a way that was loyal to their mother’s insistence that the account be unbiased, and would not alienate the kits from their birth-clan. “He hoped he would be made deputy in Redtail’s place, but Bluestar chose a cat called Lionheart instead.”
“Tigerstar didn’t kill Lionheart as well?” asked Bramblepaw, his voice quavering.
“No, he didn’t. Lionheart died in a battle with ShadowClan. Tigerstar became deputy then, but that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be leader.”
He paused again, wondering how much to say. No need to burden these apprentices, he decided, with the tale of how Cinderpelt had been injured in a trap set by Tigerstar for Bluestar, or Tigerstar’s attempts to murder Fireheart himself.
“He gathered a band of rogues from the forest,” he continued. “They attacked ThunderClan, and Tigerstar tried to kill Bluestar.”
“Kill Bluestar!” Tawnypaw gasped. “But she’s our leader!”
“Tigerstar thought that he could make himself leader in her place,” Fireheart explained, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “The Clan sent him into exile, and that’s when he joined ShadowClan and became their leader.”
The two apprentices looked at each other. “So our father was a traitor?” mewed Bramblepaw softly.
“Well, yes,” Fireheart replied. “But I know it’s hard to think about that. Just remember that both of you can be proud to belong to ThunderClan. And the Clan are proud of you, just as I said. You’re not responsible for what your father did. You can be great warriors, completely loyal to your Clan and the warrior code.”
“But our father wasn’t loyal,” Tawnypaw mewed. “Does that mean he’s our enemy now?”
Fireheart met her scared gaze. “All cats from other Clans have to have their own interests at heart,” he told her gently. “That’s what Clan loyalty means. Your father is loyal to ShadowClan now, just as it is your duty to be loyal to ThunderClan.”
There was silence for a few heartbeats, and then Tawnypaw drew herself up and gave her chest fur a few quick licks. “Thank you for telling us, Fireheart. Is it…is it really true that the rest of the Clan are proud of us?”
“It really is,” Fireheart assured her. “Don’t forget, the Clan discovered all this when you two were only newborns. And they’ve never wanted to punish you, have they?”
Tawnypaw blinked gratefully at him. Glancing at Bramblepaw, Fireheart saw that he was gazing up at the sky between the arching fronds of fern. There was no reading the emotion in his amber eyes.
“Bramblepaw?” Fireheart meowed uneasily. The young cat did not respond. Wanting to reassure him, Fireheart went on, “Work hard and be loyal to your Clan, and no cat will blame you for what your father did.”
Bramblepaw’s head whipped around; his eyes glared at his mentor with all the hostility that Fireheart had once seen in Tigerstar. He had never looked more like his father. “But that’s not true, is it?” he hissed. “You blame us. I don’t care what you’re saying now. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You think I’ll be a traitor just like he was. You’ll never trust me, whatever I do!”
Fireheart stared at him, unable to deny the young cat’s accusations. For a few heartbeats he had no idea what to say. While he hesitated, Bramblepaw sprang to his paws and blundered through the ferns to the top of the hollow, where Brackenfur was waiting. Tawnypaw cast one scared look at Fireheart and scurried after her brother.
Fireheart heard Brackenfur meow, “Ready to go? Let’s head along the border up to Fourtrees.” He paused and called out, “Fireheart, are you ready?”
“Coming,” Fireheart replied. His heart was heavy as he rose and followed the apprentices. Had he managed to explain to them the true meaning of loyalty, or had he simply succeeded in pushing them further away from ThunderClan, and from him?
As he and Brackenfur led the apprentices back through their territory, Fireheart kept watch for any signs of the mysterious evil in the forest. He saw nothing; there were no unusual scents, and no signs of scattered prey. The evil, whatever it was, had gone to ground again, and somehow that made Fireheart more afraid. What was it that could wreak such terrible damage, and then fade into the depths of the forest as if it had never been?
I must talk to Lostface as soon as I can, he decided. The cats were still being hunted, he was sure of that, and it was only a matter of time before another one was caught.
Early the next morning, Fireheart emerged into the clearing to find the dawn patrol getting ready to leave. Graystripe and Sandstorm were waiting beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel, while Dustpelt was calling Ashpaw from the apprentices’ den. Fireheart hurried toward the entrance, but before he reached it he heard Sandstorm meow loudly to Graystripe, “I’m tired of hanging about. I’ll meet you at the top of the ravine.” Without looking at Fireheart she whipped around and disappeared.
Sadness almost overwhelmed Fireheart, and he halted at the mouth of the gorse tunnel, tasting the last of Sandstorm’s scent as she retreated.
“Give her time,” Graystripe meowed, touching his nose to Fireheart’s shoulder. “She’ll come around.”
“I don’t know. Ever since the meeting with WindClan…”
He stopped as Dustpelt and Ashpaw hurried up, and stood back to let the rest of the patrol follow Sandstorm. At least, Fireheart told himself, Dustpelt seemed to be reconciled to Graystripe’s return, to the extent of going on patrol with him. Perhaps time was all his friend would need to truly be part of the Clan again.
Fireheart padded across the clearing to Cinderpelt’s den. Lostface was seated in a patch of sunlight with Cloudtail beside her, gently washing her. The wounds along her sides were healing cleanly, and her ginger-and-white fur was beginning to grow back, and as he approached Fireheart thought for a single heartbeat that she was almost back to normal. Then she lifted her head, and for the first time he saw the damaged side of her face without its covering of cobwebs.
Freshly healed scars were stretched across Lostface’s cheek, bare flesh where no fur would ever grow. Her eye was gone, and her ear was reduced to a few shreds. Fireheart realized how dreadfully apt the name Lostface was, and remembered her as she had been before, bright and lively. Anger burned deep in his belly. Somehow he must drive this evil out of the forest!
Lostface let out a faint whimper as Fireheart approached, and shrank closer to Cloudtail.
“It’s okay,” Cloudtail mewed softly. “It’s only Fireheart.” Looking up at his former mentor, he explained, “You came up on her blind side. She’s scared when cats do that, but she’s getting better every day.”
“That’s right,” agreed Cinderpelt, emerging from her den. Limping over to Fireheart so she could speak to him without Lostface overhearing, she went on, “To be honest, there’s not much more I can do for her. She just needs time to get strong.”
“How long?” Fireheart asked. “I need to talk to her—and it’s time Cloudtail was going back to his warrior duties. I know Sandstorm wants him for her hunting patrol.” He gave his kin a sympathetic glance, still admiring him for his loyalty to Lostface.
Cinderpelt shrugged. “I’ll have to let Lostface decide when she feels ready to leave my den. Have you thought about what’s going to happen to her now?”
Fireheart shook his head. “Officially she’s a warrior….”
“And you think she’d be happy among you ruffians in the warriors’ den?” Cinderpelt let out a mew of exasperation. “She still needs someone to look after her.”
“I think she could go and live with the elders, at least while she’s still getting stronger.” It was Cloudtail who spoke; he had padded over to join
Fireheart and the medicine cat. “Speckletail is still grieving in the elders’ den for Snowkit. It would do her good to have another cat to care for.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Fireheart meowed warmly.
“I’m not sure,” Cinderpelt objected. “What’s Speckletail going to think? You know how prickly and proud she is. She wouldn’t like the idea that you were doing her a favor by trying to distract her from Snowkit’s death.”
“Leave Speckletail to me,” Fireheart meowed. “I’ll tell her that she’s doing me a favor by looking after Lostface.”
“That might work,” agreed Cinderpelt. “And when Lostface is a bit better, she could help the elders and free up the apprentices for other duties.”
