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“Speckletail’s kit?” she meowed when Fireheart had told her about Brackenfur’s suspicions. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see what he means. I’ll take a look.”
“You’ll have to be careful of Speckletail,” Fireheart warned her. “When I suggested she might let you check Snowkit, she practically bit my nose off.”
“I’m not surprised,” remarked Cinderpelt. “No queen wants to believe her kits aren’t perfect. I’ll deal with it, Fireheart; don’t worry. But not right away,” she added, patting her store of juniper berries into a neater pile. “It’s too late to disturb them tonight, and tomorrow I have to go to Highstones.”
“So soon?” Fireheart was surprised; he hadn’t realized how quickly the days were slipping by.
“Tomorrow night is the new moon. All the other medicine cats will be there too. StarClan will give me my full powers.” Cinderpelt hesitated and then added, “Yellowfang should have come with me, to present me to StarClan as a fully trained medicine cat. Now I’ll have to go through the ceremony without her.” Her eyes grew wide and remote as she spoke. Fireheart felt that she was moving far away from him, into a land of shadows and dreams where he could not follow her.
“You’ll need to take a warrior with you,” he meowed. “Last time Bluestar tried to go to Highstones, WindClan wouldn’t let her pass through their territory.”
Cinderpelt looked at him calmly. “I’d like to see the patrol that would dare to stop a medicine cat. StarClan would never forgive that.” Her expression changed and her eyes glinted mischievously. “You can come as far as Fourtrees if you like. Assuming you can spare the time from Sandstorm.”
Fireheart felt uncomfortable. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered. But he remembered leaving to go and eat with Sandstorm while Cinderpelt was telling him about her dream, and he guessed that the medicine cat had felt unfairly dismissed. “Sandstorm can lead the dawn patrol without me,” he mewed out loud. “I’ll come with you to Fourtrees.”
The next day dawned damp and misty. Tendrils of fog curled between the trees as Fireheart and Cinderpelt made their way to Fourtrees. The clinging white clouds dampened the sound of their pawsteps and beaded their fur with tiny droplets. In the silence Fireheart jumped at the sudden alarm call of a bird above his head. He felt half-afraid that they might lose their way in this eerily unfamiliar-looking forest.
But by the time they crossed the stream and began to climb the slope to Fourtrees, the mist had begun to clear, and at the top of the hollow they emerged into bright sunlight. The four massive oaks stood straight ahead of them, their leaves turning red-gold with the approach of leaf-fall.
Cinderpelt let out a noisy breath and shook the moisture from her fur. “That feels good! I was starting to think I’d have to scent my way to Highstones, and I’ve only been there once before, with Yellowfang.”
Fireheart too enjoyed the feeling of warm sun on his fur. He stretched luxuriously and opened his jaws to taste the air, hoping to pick up the scent of prey.
Instead, the scent of other cats flooded over him. ShadowClan! he thought, his muscles tensing as his gaze flicked from side to side. A moment later he relaxed as he spotted Runningnose, the ShadowClan medicine cat, padding up to the hollow from ShadowClan territory with another cat beside him. This was no hostile warrior. StarClan raised medicine cats above the level of Clan rivalry.
“It looks as if you won’t have to travel alone after all,” he meowed to Cinderpelt.
They waited until the ShadowClan cats came up to them. As they drew nearer, Fireheart recognized the other cat. It was Littlecloud, a small tabby tom who had almost died in his Clan’s recent sickness. He and another warrior, Whitethroat, had tried to seek refuge with ThunderClan. Bluestar had refused to take them in, but Cinderpelt had secretly sheltered them and cared for them until they were fit enough to travel back to their own territory.
Whitethroat had died soon after, when Tigerstar and his rogues had attacked a ThunderClan patrol. A monster had cut the young cat down on the Thunderpath as he was fleeing from the fight. Reliving the shock of that moment, Fireheart was glad to see that Littlecloud at least looked strong and healthy again.
“Hello, there!” Runningnose greeted the ThunderClan cats cheerfully. “Well met, Cinderpelt. It’s a good day to travel.”
Littlecloud nodded respectfully to Fireheart and went to touch noses with Cinderpelt.
“It’s good to see you on your paws again,” she meowed.
“All thanks to you,” Littlecloud replied. With a touch of pride he added, “I’m Runningnose’s apprentice now.”
“Congratulations!” Cinderpelt purred.
“And that’s because of you too,” Littlecloud went on enthusiastically. “When we were ill, you knew just what to do. And then you gave us healing herbs to take back to the Clan—and they worked! I want to do more stuff like that.”
“He has real talent,” Runningnose mewed. “And it took courage to come back to us with the herbs. I’m only sorry Whitethroat didn’t come back with him.”
“He didn’t?” Fireheart asked, seizing the chance to find out how much the ShadowClan cats knew about the young warrior’s fate.
Sadly, Littlecloud shook his head. “He wouldn’t come back with me to camp. He was scared of catching the sickness again, even though we had the healing herbs with us.” He blinked as if the memory caused him pain. “We found his body beside the Thunderpath a few days later.”
“I’m sorry,” Fireheart meowed. He wondered whether to tell him the truth about how Whitethroat had died, but decided it would be too harmful to reveal that Littlecloud’s new leader had been partly responsible for his friend’s death. It was clear that Whitethroat must have joined the rogues for a short time, and paid with his life.
Cinderpelt pressed her muzzle comfortingly against Littlecloud’s flank. Settling down on the warm grass, she beckoned with her tail for the apprentice to sit beside her and began to ask him about his training.
“Are things better now?” Fireheart carefully asked Runningnose. He would have liked to warn the medicine cat about Tigerstar, but there was so little he could say without revealing what had happened in ThunderClan.
“It seems so,” meowed Runningnose, sounding equally guarded. “The apprentices are getting a proper training for the first time in moons, and our bellies are always full.”
“That’s good news,” Fireheart mewed, forcing himself to add, “What about the rogues?”
Runningnose frowned. “Not every cat was happy about their coming into our Clan,” he admitted. “I wasn’t happy about them myself. But they haven’t caused any trouble—and they’re strong warriors; no cat can deny that.”
“Then maybe Tigerstar will be a great leader, just like the omen said,” Fireheart mewed.
The medicine cat met his gaze evenly. “It seems strange that ThunderClan got rid of a strong cat like that.”
Fireheart took a deep breath. Perhaps he should take this chance to tell Runningnose the truth about Tigerstar. “It’s a long story,” he began.
“No, Fireheart,” Runningnose interrupted. “I’m not asking you to betray your Clan’s secrets.” He edged closer to Fireheart, then scraped the ground with his paws and crouched down beside him. “Whatever happened in ThunderClan, I’m certain of one thing,” he mewed softly. “StarClan did send Tigerstar to us.”
“You mean the omen?”
“Actually, there’s something else.” Runningnose glanced sideways at Fireheart. “Our last leader was never accepted by StarClan,” he admitted. “When Nightstar became leader, StarClan did not grant him nine lives.”
“What?” Fireheart stared at the medicine cat in disbelief. If Nightstar had had only one li
fe, it explained why the sickness had claimed him so quickly. Fireheart found his voice again. “Why didn’t he get nine lives?”
“StarClan have not explained that to me,” meowed Runningnose. “I wondered if it was because Brokentail was still alive, and StarClan still recognized him as Clan leader. By the time we learned that Brokentail had died, Nightstar was too weak to make the journey to the Moonstone to receive his nine lives. And since Tigerstar came, I think maybe he was StarClan’s choice of leader for us all along. Nightstar was not the right cat.”
“Yet the Clan still accepted him as leader?” Fireheart asked.
“The Clan never knew that he had not been given his nine lives,” Runningnose confessed. “Nightstar was a noble cat, and loyal to his Clan. We decided to keep StarClan’s rejection a secret. What else could we do? There was no other cat fit to be leader. If we had told the truth, the Clan would have panicked.”
There was a kind of relief in Runningnose’s voice as he told the story. Fireheart guessed how relieved the medicine cat must have felt to be able to share the secret at last.
“The Clan cats thought the sickness was so bad it took all of Nightstar’s lives at once,” Runningnose continued. “They were scared—very scared. They had never been in greater need of a strong leader.”
So they accepted Tigerstar without question. Fireheart added what the medicine cat had not said. But there was no need for Runningnose to voice his doubts about his new leader. “Has Tigerstar said anything about attacking ThunderClan?” Fireheart asked hesitantly.
Runningnose let out a purr of amusement. “Do you really expect me to answer that? If he was planning anything, I’d be betraying my Clan if I told you. As far as I know, you haven’t anything to worry about, but whether you believe me or not is up to you.”
Fireheart discovered that he believed him—at least, he believed that Runningnose knew nothing about any plans that Tigerstar might be making. Whether the medicine cat was right was another question altogether.
