Fireheart nervously flicked his tail, stirring the leaves behind him. “He said he did.”
“And you know that by saying this, you are questioning Redtail’s honor, because he must have been the cat that was responsible for Oakheart’s death? One deputy would never kill another in battle, not if it could possibly be avoided. And Redtail was the most honorable warrior I have ever known.” Bluestar’s eyes clouded with pain, and Fireheart felt a pang of dismay that he should have hurt her memory of her former deputy, even if unintentionally.
“I cannot account for Redtail’s actions,” he murmured. “I only know that Ravenpaw truly believes Tigerclaw was responsible for Redtail’s death.”
Bluestar sighed and relaxed her shoulders. “We all know that Ravenpaw has a vivid imagination,” she meowed gently, her eyes sympathetic. “He was badly injured in the battle, and he left before the fighting was over. Can you be sure he didn’t fill in the parts he’d missed?”
Before Fireheart could reply, a yowl echoed through the forest, and Tigerclaw bounded out of the undergrowth. His eyes flickered suspiciously over Fireheart for a moment before he addressed Bluestar. “We’re waiting for you at the border.”
Bluestar nodded. “Tell them we’ll be there in a moment.” Tigerclaw dipped his head, turned, and raced back through the ferns.
As Fireheart watched him disappear, Bluestar’s words echoed in his mind. She was right; Ravenpaw did have a strong imagination. Fireheart remembered his first Gathering, when apprentices from every Clan had hung on Ravenpaw’s words as he described the battle with RiverClan. And he hadn’t mentioned Tigerclaw then.
Fireheart jumped up as Bluestar stood. “Are you going to bring Ravenpaw back to the Clan?” he asked, suddenly afraid he had caused even more trouble for his friend.
Bluestar gazed deep into Fireheart’s eyes. “He is probably happier where he is,” she meowed quietly. “For now, we will let the Clan carry on believing he is dead.”
Fireheart stared back at her, his eyes wide with shock. Bluestar was going to lie to the Clan!
“Tigerclaw is a great warrior, but he is very proud,” Bluestar went on. “It’ll be easier for him to accept that his apprentice died in battle rather than ran away. And it would be better for Ravenpaw, too.”
“Because Tigerclaw might go looking for him?” Fireheart dared to ask. Was it possible that Bluestar believed him, even just a little bit?
Bluestar shook her head with a flash of impatience. “No. Tigerclaw might be ambitious, but he is not a murderer. Ravenpaw will be better remembered as a dead hero than a live coward.”
Tigerclaw’s call sounded again, and Bluestar jumped down from the log and disappeared into the ferns. Fireheart cleared the tree trunk in one leap and raced after his leader.
He caught up with her at the edge of a stream. He watched while she crossed, jumping from stone to stone to the other side. Fireheart followed carefully, his mind whirling. The knowledge about Redtail’s death had been resting heavily on his shoulders for days. Now he had finally told Bluestar, but nothing had changed. The Clan leader clearly didn’t think Tigerclaw was capable of cold-blooded murder. And worst of all, Fireheart himself had begun to doubt whether Ravenpaw had been telling the truth. He leaped onto the far bank and charged on through the undergrowth.
Fireheart skidded to a halt behind Bluestar as they reached the other ThunderClan cats. The group had paused at the top of the slope that led down to Fourtrees, the giant oaks where cats from the four Clans of the forest met in peace at each full moon.
Fireheart’s fur prickled as he felt Tigerclaw watching him. Did the dark warrior suspect what had passed between him and Bluestar? Fireheart shook his head to clear his mind and tried to think like Bluestar. Of course Tigerclaw would be interested in what Fireheart had said to Bluestar: he was the Clan deputy, so he would want to know anything that might affect the Clan. Fireheart looked again at Tigerclaw; the dark tabby was staring down the slope, his ears pricked and alert. The cats around him shuffled their paws in anticipation. Tigerclaw glanced at each of them, silently rallying them with his steady amber gaze.
Bluestar lifted her nose and sniffed the air. Fireheart sensed a tightening of muscles and prickling of fur around him. Then Bluestar signaled with a flick of her tail, and the ThunderClan cats plunged down the slope toward the Gathering.
CHAPTER 2
Bluestar halted on the edge of the clearing with her Clan lined up beside her. Some of the cats from RiverClan and ShadowClan turned and acknowledged their arrival.
“Where’d you disappear to?” Graystripe appeared at Fireheart’s shoulder.
Fireheart shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He was still troubled and confused by his conversation with Bluestar, and felt glad when Graystripe didn’t press him, turning his head instead to peer around the clearing.
“Hey, look,” he meowed. “The ShadowClan cats are looking stronger than I thought they would. After all, Brokenstar left them half-starved.”
Fireheart followed his gaze to a sleek ShadowClan warrior. “You’re right,” he agreed, surprised.
“Mind you, we did do most of their fighting for them!” scoffed Graystripe.
Fireheart’s amused purr was interrupted by Whitestorm. “The ShadowClan cats fought as hard as we did to chase out Brokenstar. We should honor their determination to recover,” he meowed sternly, before padding over to a group of warriors gathered beneath one of the great oaks.
“Oops!” mewed Graystripe with a guilty glance at Fireheart.
The young warriors stayed on the edge of the clearing. Fireheart could easily pick out the apprentices from the other Clans—their fur looked kit-soft, their faces round, and their paws plump and clumsy.
Two warriors approached Graystripe and Fireheart. A small brown apprentice tagged after them. Fireheart recognized the gray tabby tom from ShadowClan, but not the smoky black tom who walked with him.
“Hi!” meowed the gray tom.
“Hello, Wetfoot,” replied Fireheart. He glanced at the dark brown cat.
Wetfoot meowed, “This is Blackclaw of RiverClan.”
Graystripe and Fireheart nodded their greeting. The apprentice stepped timidly forward.
“And this is my apprentice, Oakpaw,” added Wetfoot.
Oakpaw looked up at Fireheart with wide, anxious eyes. “H-hi, Fireheart,” he mewed. Fireheart nodded his head in greeting.
“I hear Bluestar made you warriors after the battle,” meowed Wetfoot. “Congratulations! It must’ve been a cold vigil.”
“It was!” Graystripe agreed.
“Who’s that?” Fireheart broke in. A sleek she-cat with a mottled brown pelt had caught his attention. She was sharing words with Tigerclaw beside the Great Rock that stood in the center of the clearing.
“That’s Leopardfur, our deputy,” growled the RiverClan warrior.
Fireheart’s fur stiffened as he thought about the previous RiverClan deputy, Oakheart, and how he had died in battle with ThunderClan. He was saved from having to say anything by Bluestar’s bounding onto the top of the rock to start the meeting. Two other cats joined her, and one of them, an elderly black tom, sounded the call for all cats to gather beneath the rock. Fireheart recognized the black tom, and couldn’t help feeling surprised. Had old Nightpelt become ShadowClan’s leader since Brokenstar had fled?
When the cats had settled in front of the Great Rock, Bluestar spoke. “ThunderClan bring to this Gathering their new medicine cat, Yellowfang,” she announced formally. She paused while all eyes turned to the old she-cat with the thick fur and flattened muzzle. Fireheart noticed her shuffle her haunches on the hard ground. Early in his apprenticeship he had spent almost a whole moon nursing the she-cat back to health after she had come to the ThunderClan camp. Now he could tell by the way her right ear twisted slightly that she was uncomfortable under the gaze of the other Clans. Yellowfang had been medicine cat to ShadowClan, and cats hardly ever left one Clan to join another. She looked around the cr
owd slowly until she met the gaze of Runningnose, ShadowClan’s new medicine cat. There was a brief pause; then they exchanged a respectful nod. Yellowfang’s ear straightened and Fireheart relaxed.
Bluestar spoke again. “We also bring two newly named warriors—Fireheart and Graystripe.”
Fireheart held his head high, but as he felt all eyes turn to look at him, a surge of self-consciousness made his tail flick nervously.
Nightpelt stepped forward, brushing past Bluestar to stand on the highest part of the rock. “I, Nightpelt, have taken over the leadership of ShadowClan,” he announced. “Our former leader, Brokenstar, broke the warrior code and we were forced to chase him out.”
“No mention of the fact we helped them to do it,” Graystripe whispered to Fireheart.
Nightpelt continued, “The spirits of our ancestors have spoken to Runningnose and chosen me as leader. I have not yet traveled to Mothermouth to receive StarClan’s gift of nine lives, but I will make this journey tomorrow night while the moon is still full. After my vigil at the Moonstone, I shall be known as Nightstar.”
“Where is Brokenstar now?” called a voice from the crowd. It was Frostfur, the white ThunderClan queen.
“I think we can assume that he has left the forest, with the other banished warriors. He knows it would be dangerous for him to try to return,” answered Nightpelt.
“I hope so,” Fireheart heard Frostfur murmur to her neighbor, a plump brown queen.
RiverClan’s leader, Crookedstar, stepped forward. “Let’s hope Brokenstar has had the sense to leave the forest for good. His greed for territory threatened us all.”
Crookedstar waited for the yowls of agreement to die down before he went on. “While Brokenstar was ShadowClan’s leader, I allowed him to hunt in our river. But now ShadowClan has a new leader, and this agreement can no longer stand. The prey in our river belongs to RiverClan alone.”
Mews of triumph rose from the other RiverClan cats, but Fireheart saw with a feeling of alarm that Nightpelt was bristling.
Nightpelt raised his voice. “ShadowClan has the same needs as it did under Brokenstar. We have many mouths to feed, Crookedstar. You made an agreement with the whole of ShadowClan!”
Crookedstar leaped to his paws and turned on Nightpelt. He flattened his ears and hissed, and the cats below fell silent.
Quickly Bluestar stepped between the two leaders. “ShadowClan has suffered many losses recently,” she mewed softly. “With fewer mouths to feed, Nightpelt, do you really need RiverClan’s fish?”
Crookedstar hissed again, but Nightpelt held his gaze without flinching.
Bluestar spoke again, this time more forcefully. “You have just driven out your leader and several of your strongest warriors! And Brokenstar went against the warrior code when he forced Crookedstar to agree to share the river.”
Fireheart swallowed uneasily as he noticed Nightpelt unsheathe his claws, but Bluestar didn’t blink. Her icy blue gaze glinted in the moonlight as she growled, “Remember you have not even received your nine lives from StarClan. Are you so confident you can make these demands?” Fireheart tensed as he felt the bristling of fur around him. The whole crowd was waiting for Nightpelt’s response.
Nightpelt looked away angrily. His tail flicked from side to side but he said nothing.
Bluestar had won. Her voice softened. “We all know ShadowClan has suffered much these past few moons,” she meowed. “ThunderClan has agreed to leave you in peace until you have had time to recover.” She turned her gaze on Crookedstar. “I’m sure that Crookedstar will agree to show you the same respect.”
Crookedstar narrowed his eyes and nodded. “But only as long as ShadowClan is not scented in our territory,” he growled.
Fireheart relaxed, letting the fur lie flat on his shoulders. Now that he knew what it was like to fight in a real battle, he admired his leader’s courage even more in challenging these two great warriors. Muffled mews of relief and agreement sounded in the crowd as the tension on the Great Rock suddenly eased.
“You won’t scent us, Crookedstar,” meowed Nightpelt. “Bluestar was right—we don’t need your fish. After all, we have the uplands to hunt in, now that WindClan have left their territory.”
Crookedstar looked at Nightpelt, his eyes brightening. “That’s true,” he agreed. “This will mean extra prey for all of us.”
Bluestar drew up her head sharply. “No! WindClan must return!”
Crookedstar and Nightpelt looked at the ThunderClan leader. “Why?” asked Crookedstar.
“If we share WindClan’s hunting grounds, it will mean more food for all our kits!” Nightpelt pointed out.
“The forest needs four Clans,” Bluestar insisted. “Just as we have Fourtrees, and four seasons, StarClan has given us four Clans. We must find WindClan as soon as possible and bring them home.”
The ThunderClan cats raised their voices in support of their leader, but Crookedstar’s impatient yowl rose above them. “Your argument is weak, Bluestar. Do we really need four seasons? Wouldn’t you rather go without leaf-bare, and the cold and hunger it brings?”
Bluestar looked calmly at the warriors beside her. “StarClan gave us leaf-bare to let the earth recover and prepare for newleaf. This forest, and the uplands, have supported four Clans for generations. It is not up to us to challenge StarClan.”
Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy, spoke up. “Why should we go hungry for the sake of a Clan that cannot even defend its territory?” she yowled.
“Bluestar is right! WindClan must return!” Tigerclaw spat back, drawing himself up so that he towered above the cats around him.
Bluestar spoke again. “Crookedstar,” she meowed, turning to the RiverClan leader, “RiverClan’s hunting grounds are known for their richness. You have the river and all the fish it contains. Why do you need extra prey?” Crookedstar looked away and didn’t answer. Fireheart noticed how RiverClan murmured anxiously among themselves. He wondered why Bluestar’s question had ruffled their fur.
“And Nightpelt,” Bluestar went on, “it was Brokenstar who drove WindClan from their home.” The broad-shouldered she-cat paused. “That is why ThunderClan helped you to chase him out.”
Fireheart narrowed his eyes. He knew that Bluestar was gently reminding Nightpelt of the debt he owed to ThunderClan.
The ShadowClan leader half-closed his eyes. After a silence that felt like an age, Nightpelt opened his eyes wide and meowed, “Very well, Bluestar. We will allow WindClan to return.” Fireheart saw Crookedstar turn his head away in anger, his eyes black slits.
Bluestar nodded. “Two of us have agreed, Crookedstar,” she meowed. “WindClan must be found and brought home. Until then, no Clan should hunt in their territory.”
The Gathering began to break up as the cats prepared to travel back to their camps. Fireheart stayed where he was for a moment, watching the leaders on the Great Rock. Bluestar touched noses with Crookedstar and jumped down to the forest floor. On the rock, Crookedstar turned to Nightpelt. There was something about the look that passed between them that made Fireheart’s fur prickle. Could it be that Bluestar did not really have Nightpelt’s support after all? Fireheart looked quickly around. He could tell from the anger in Tigerclaw’s eyes that ThunderClan’s deputy had not missed this exchange either.
For once, Fireheart shared Tigerclaw’s concern. This was a shift in Clan alliances he had not expected. After the risk ThunderClan had taken by helping ShadowClan to drive out Brokenstar, how could they side with RiverClan now?
CHAPTER 3
Bluestar led the way swiftly back to camp. The noise of their return awoke the cats who had remained behind. As the group streamed through the gorse entrance, sleepy figures began emerging from the dens.
“What’s the news?” called Halftail.
“Were ShadowClan there?” asked Willowpelt.
“Yes, they were,” Bluestar replied gravely. She strode past Willowpelt and leaped up onto Highrock. There was no need for her customary call f
or a Clan meeting—the cats were already gathering below the rock. Tigerclaw jumped up beside her.
“There was much tension between the Clans tonight,” Bluestar began. “And I became aware of a possible new allegiance between Crookedstar and Nightpelt.”
Graystripe squeezed into the small space next to Fireheart. “What are they talking about?” he asked. “I thought Nightpelt agreed with Bluestar.”
“Nightpelt?” croaked One-eye’s ancient voice from the back of the crowd.
“He has been named as ShadowClan’s new leader,” Bluestar explained.
“But his name—hasn’t he been accepted by StarClan yet?” asked One-eye.
“He plans to travel to the Moonstone tomorrow night,” Tigerclaw told him.
“No leader can speak for their Clan at a Gathering without receiving StarClan’s approval first,” muttered One-eye, loudly enough for all the cats to hear.
“He has the support of ShadowClan, One-eye,” answered Bluestar, nodding at the old she-cat. “We cannot ignore what he said tonight.” One-eye gave a disgruntled sniff, and Bluestar lifted her head to address the whole Clan. “At the Gathering, I suggested we find WindClan and bring them home. But Crookedstar and Nightpelt don’t want them to return.”
“They’re hardly likely to join forces, though, are they?” called Graystripe. “They almost had a scrap over hunting rights in the river.”
Fireheart turned to his friend. “Didn’t you see the looks they were swapping by the end of the meeting? They’re both desperate to get their paws on WindClan’s territory.”
“But why?” asked Sandpaw, who was sitting beside her mentor, Whitestorm.
Whitestorm answered her. “I suspect ShadowClan is not as weak as we thought they would be. And Nightpelt seems to have more ambition than any cat expected.”
“But why does RiverClan want to hunt WindClan’s grounds? They have always grown fat on the fish from their precious river!” yowled Willowpelt. “The uplands are a long way to go for a few windblown rabbits!”