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As Bluestar had predicted, opinions were divided. Many cats thought that the sooner the Clan was rid of these half-breed kits, the better. But there were still several who were prepared to fight, if only because to give up the kits would mean that RiverClan had won.
Through it all, Graystripe remained silent, brooding in the warriors’ den. He left it only once to visit the nursery. When Fireheart brought him fresh-kill, he turned his head away. He hadn’t eaten since Silverstream died, as far as Fireheart could tell, and he was looking gaunt and ill.
“Is there anything you can do for him?” Fireheart asked Yellowfang, going to her den as soon as he woke the following day. “He won’t eat, he can’t sleep….”
The old medicine cat shook her head. “There’s no herb to heal a broken heart,” she murmured. “Only time will do that.”
“I feel so helpless,” Fireheart confessed.
“Your friendship helps,” Yellowfang rasped. “He might not realize it now, but one day he—”
She broke off as Cinderpaw appeared and dropped a bunch of herbs at Yellowfang’s feet. “Are these the right ones?” she asked.
Yellowfang gave the herbs a quick sniff. “Yes, that’s right,” she mewed. “You can’t eat before the ceremony,” she added, “but I will. I’m too old and creaky to get to Highstones and back without something to keep me going.” She crouched in front of the herbs and began to gulp them down.
“Highstones?” Fireheart echoed. “Ceremony? Cinderpaw, what’s going on?”
“It’s the half moon tonight,” Cinderpaw mewed happily. “Yellowfang and I are going to Mothermouth so I can be made a proper apprentice.” She gave a joyful wriggle. Fireheart felt a wave of relief that she seemed to be over her despair after Silverstream’s death, and was looking forward again to her new life as a medicine cat. Her eyes had recovered all their old sparkle, but there was a new wisdom and thoughtfulness in their blue depths now.
She was growing up, Fireheart thought, with an odd feeling of regret. His enthusiastic, sometimes scatterbrained apprentice was maturing into a cat of great inner strength and power. He knew he should rejoice in the path StarClan had chosen for her, but part of him wished that they could still go out together on the hunting trail. “I’ll come with you tonight, if you like,” he offered. “As far as Fourtrees, anyway.”
“Oh, would you, Fireheart? Thank you!” Cinderpaw mewed.
“But no farther than Fourtrees,” warned Yellowfang, getting to her paws and swiping her tongue around her mouth. “Tonight at Mothermouth is for medicine cats only.” She gave herself a brisk shake and led the way through the ferns to the clearing.
As Fireheart followed behind Cinderpaw, he saw Cloudpaw washing himself by the tree stump outside the apprentices’ den.
The white tom sprang up as soon as he saw Fireheart and raced across to him. “Where are you going?” he demanded. “Can I come?”
Fireheart glanced at Yellowfang, and when the old cat voiced no objection, he replied, “All right. It’ll be a good exercise for you, and we can hunt on the way back.” Trotting up the ravine behind the she-cats, he explained to Cloudpaw where they were going, and how Yellowfang and Cinderpaw would carry on alone to Highstones. Deep within the tunnel known as Mothermouth was the Moonstone, which glittered dazzling white when the moon shone upon it. Cinderpaw’s ceremony would take place in its unearthly light.
“What happens then?” Cloudpaw asked curiously.
“The ceremonies are secret,” growled Yellowfang. “So don’t ask Cinderpaw when she comes back. She isn’t allowed to tell you.”
“But every cat knows that she’ll receive special powers from StarClan,” Fireheart added.
“Special powers!” Cloudpaw’s eyes grew round, and he gazed at Cinderpaw as if he expected her to start uttering prophecies there and then.
“Don’t worry; I’ll still be the same old Cinderpaw,” she assured him with an amused purr. “That won’t ever change.”
The sun grew hot as the four cats made their way to Fourtrees. Fireheart was thankful for the deep shade under the trees and the cool freshness of long grass and clumps of fern as they brushed against his orange fur. All his senses were alert, and he kept Cloudpaw busy, scenting the air and reporting on what he could smell. Fireheart hadn’t forgotten the attack from ShadowClan and WindClan. They had been defeated once, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try again to kill Brokentail. Besides that, Fireheart was half expecting trouble from RiverClan over Graystripe’s kits. He sighed. On a beautiful morning like this, with fresh green on the trees and prey practically leaping out of the bushes and waiting to be caught, it was hard to be thinking of attacks and death.
In spite of his worries, the group of cats reached Fourtrees without trouble. As they slid through the bushes down into the hollow, Fireheart dropped back to match Cinderpaw’s uneven steps. “Are you sure about what you’re doing?” he asked quietly. “Is it what you really want?”
“Of course! Don’t you see, Fireheart?” Cinderpaw’s eyes searched his, suddenly serious. “I have to learn as much as I can so that no cat dies because I couldn’t save them, like Silverstream.”
Fireheart flinched. He longed for a way to persuade his friend that Silverstream’s death was not her fault, but he knew he would be wasting his breath. “And will that make you happy? You know medicine cats can’t ever have kits,” he reminded her, thinking of how Yellowfang had been forced to give up Brokentail and keep her bond with him a secret.
Cinderpaw purred to comfort him. “The whole Clan will be my kits,” she promised. “Even the warriors. Yellowfang says they have about as much sense as newborns sometimes!” She took a pace forward that brought her to Fireheart’s side, and rubbed her face affectionately against his. “But you’ll always be my best friend, Fireheart. I’ll never forget you were my first mentor.”
Fireheart licked her ear. “Good-bye, Cinderpaw,” he mewed softly.
“I’m not going away forever,” Cinderpaw protested. “I’ll be back by sunset tomorrow.”
But Fireheart knew that in some ways, Cinderpaw was going away forever. When she returned, she would have new powers and responsibilities, given to her not by a Clan leader, but by StarClan. Side by side, they crossed the hollow beneath the four massive oaks and climbed the far slope to where Yellowfang and Cloudpaw were already waiting. The vast open moor stretched in front of them, a cool wind bending the sturdy clumps of heather.
“Won’t WindClan attack you if you go through their territory?” Cloudpaw mewed anxiously.
“All the Clans may pass through safely on the way to Highstones,” Yellowfang told him. “And no warrior would dare to attack medicine cats. StarClan forbid!” Turning to Cinderpaw, she asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes, I’m coming.” Cinderpaw gave Fireheart one final lick and followed the old cat out onto the springy moorland grass. The breeze ruffled her fur as she limped swiftly away without a backward glance.
Fireheart watched her go, his heart heavy. He knew his friend was at the beginning of a new and happier life, but all the same he could not stifle a pang of bittersweet regret for the life that could have been hers.
Fireheart watched the sun climbing the trees. “Tigerclaw wants me to send Cloudpaw on a solo hunting mission today,” he meowed to Graystripe.
The big gray warrior looked up in surprise. “That’s early, isn’t it? He’s barely been made apprentice.”
Fireheart shrugged. “Tigerclaw thinks he’s ready. He told me to follow him and see how he does, anyway. Would you like to come and help?”
It was the morning after Cinderpaw had returned from Mothermouth. Fireheart had met her as she slipped down the ravine in the twilight. Though she greeted him affectionately, they both knew she could not tell him what she had gone through. Her face still wore a look of rapture, and the moon itself seemed to shine from her eyes. Fireheart tried hard not to feel that he had lost her to an unknown path.
Now he sat beside the nettle pat
ch, enjoying a juicy mouse. Graystripe, crouching nearby, had taken a magpie from the pile of fresh-kill but had barely touched it.
“No, thanks, Fireheart,” he mewed. “I promised Goldenflower I’d look in on the kits. Their eyes are open now,” he added with a touch of pride.
Fireheart guessed that Goldenflower would rather that Graystripe stayed away, but he knew Graystripe would never be persuaded to leave his kits. “Okay,” he meowed. “I’ll see you later.” Swallowing the last morsel of mouse, he went to find Cloudpaw.
Tigerclaw had been busy that morning, sending out one patrol with Whitestorm to renew the scent markings along the RiverClan boundary, and another with Sandstorm to hunt around Snakerocks, so he had neglected to tell Fireheart where Cloudpaw should go for his hunting mission. Fireheart hadn’t felt the need to remind him.
“You can make for Twolegplace,” he meowed to Cloudpaw. “Then you won’t get in the way of the other patrols. You won’t see me, but I’ll be watching you. I’ll meet you by Princess’s fence.”
