Firepaw joined them. He licked Lionheart’s neck and murmured, “Thank you for your wisdom. You taught me so much.” Then he sat down beside Graypaw and began gently to groom his friend’s ears.
Bluestar waited until the other cats had left before padding quietly up. Graypaw didn’t even seem to notice his leader’s presence. Firepaw looked away as Bluestar spoke her last words to her old friend.
“Oh, what am I going to do without you, Lionheart?” she whispered. Then she limped back to her den and crouched down outside, staring grief-stricken into the distance. She didn’t even try to lick clean her bloody, matted fur. It was the first time Firepaw had seen her look utterly defeated, and he felt a chill run through him.
He sat with Graypaw and Lionheart until the moon rose high. Ravenpaw joined him and together they kept company with their grieving friend. Tigerclaw strode over and briefly shared tongues with Lionheart. Firepaw waited to hear what words he would share with his warrior friend, but Tigerclaw remained silent as he licked the matted fur. To Firepaw’s confusion, the dark tabby’s eyes seemed to be fixed on Ravenpaw rather than the fallen deputy.
Spottedleaf padded lightly around the camp, tending to wounds and battered nerves. Firepaw watched her approach Bluestar twice, but each time the leader sent her away to see to the others. Only when Spottedleaf had attended to the wounds of all the other cats did Bluestar allow her to treat her bites and scratches.
When she had finished, Spottedleaf turned and walked back to her den. Bluestar stood and slowly hauled herself up onto the Highrock. The Clan cats seemed to have been waiting for her. As soon as she had settled herself in her usual spot, they began to gather in the clearing below, unusually silent and somber-faced.
Firepaw and Ravenpaw got stiffly to their paws and joined them, leaving Graypaw behind with Lionheart’s body. The gray apprentice was still lying with his nose resting against Lionheart’s cooling golden pelt. Firepaw guessed Bluestar would excuse Graypaw from the Clan meeting this time.
“It is nearly moonhigh,” meowed Bluestar as Firepaw slipped into place next to Ravenpaw. “And it is once more my duty—much, much too soon—to name ThunderClan’s new deputy.” Her voice was tired and cracked with sadness.
Firepaw looked from warrior to warrior. They were all looking expectantly at Tigerclaw. Even Whitestorm had turned to watch the dark tabby. From the bold expression on his face, and the way his whiskers twitched in anticipation, Tigerclaw seemed to agree with them.
Bluestar took a deep breath and continued. “I say these words before the body of Lionheart, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice.” She hesitated. “I have not forgotten how one cat avenged the death of Redtail and brought his body back to us. ThunderClan needs this fearless loyalty even more now.” Bluestar paused again and then meowed the name loud and clear. “Tigerclaw will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”
There was a yowl of approval, with the loudest voices belonging to Darkstripe and Longtail. Whitestorm sat calmly, his eyes closed, his tail wrapped neatly around him. He was nodding slowly and approvingly.
Tigerclaw lifted his chin proudly, his eyes half-closed as he listened to the Clan. Then he stalked through the crowd, accepting tributes with the smallest of nods, and leaped up onto the Highrock beside Bluestar. “ThunderClan,” he yowled, “I am honored to accept the position of Clan deputy. I never expected to gain such high rank, but by the spirit of Lionheart, I vow to serve you as best I can.” He gravely dipped his head, fixing the crowd with his wide yellow eyes, and jumped down from the Highrock.
Firepaw heard Ravenpaw murmur, “Oh, no!” under his breath beside him. He turned to look curiously at his friend.
Ravenpaw’s head was hanging low. “She should never have chosen him!” he muttered.
“Are you talking about Tigerclaw?” Firepaw whispered.
“He’s wanted to be deputy ever since he took care of Redtail—” Ravenpaw mewed. He stopped abruptly.
“Took care of Redtail?” Firepaw echoed. His mind suddenly raced with questions. What did Ravenpaw know? At the Gathering, had his account of the battle with RiverClan been true? Was Tigerclaw responsible for Redtail’s death?
CHAPTER 18
“Are you telling Firepaw how I protected Redtail?”
Firepaw felt a cold shiver ruffle the fur on the back of his neck.
Ravenpaw whipped around, eyes wide with fear. Tigerclaw loomed over them, his lips drawn back in a menacing snarl.
Firepaw jumped up and faced the new deputy. “He was just saying he wished you had been here to take care of Lionheart as well, that’s all!” he mewed, thinking quickly.
Tigerclaw looked from one to the other, then stalked away in silence. Ravenpaw’s green eyes clouded with terror, and he started to tremble uncontrollably.
“Ravenpaw?” Firepaw meowed in alarm.
But Ravenpaw didn’t even look up at him. With his head held low, he slunk back to Graypaw and crouched next to him, pressing his skinny black body next to Graypaw’s thick fur as if he was suddenly cold.
Firepaw looked helplessly at his two friends as they huddled beside Lionheart’s body. Not knowing what else to do, he padded over and settled himself beside them, ready to sit out the night.
As the moon passed overhead, other cats came to join their vigil. Bluestar arrived last, once the camp was calm and quiet. She said nothing, but sat a little way off, gazing at her dead deputy with an expression of such unbearable grief that Firepaw had to look away.
At dawn, a group of elders came to take Lionheart’s body away to the burial place. Graypaw followed to help dig the hole where the great warrior would rest.
Firepaw yawned and stretched. He felt chilled to the bone. Leaf-fall was nearly here now, and the woods were clouded with mist, but above the leaves Firepaw saw a rosy morning sky. He watched Graypaw disappear into the dew-soaked undergrowth with the elders.
Ravenpaw jumped to his paws and hurried back to the apprentices’ den. Firepaw followed him slowly. By the time he arrived, the black cat was curled up with his nose tucked under his tail, as if asleep.
Firepaw was too exhausted to speak. He circled around on his mossy bed and then settled down for a long sleep.
“Wake up!”
Firepaw heard Dustpaw’s voice calling through the den entrance. He opened his eyes. Ravenpaw was already awake, sitting bolt upright with his ears pricked. Graypaw was stirring beside him. Firepaw was surprised to see the familiar gray shape. He hadn’t heard him come back after burying Lionheart.
“Bluestar’s called another meeting,” Dustpaw hissed at them, and ducked out of the ferns.
The three apprentices crawled out of the warm den. The sun was already past its height, and the air felt cooler than before. Firepaw shivered, and his belly growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, and he wondered briefly if he would have a chance to hunt today.
Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw hurried to join the crowd gathered below the Highrock.
Tigerclaw was speaking from his position beside Bluestar. “During the battle, our leader lost another life. Now that she has only four of her nine lives left, I am going to appoint a bodyguard to stay at her side constantly. No cat will be allowed to approach her unless the guards are present.” His amber eyes flicked to Ravenpaw and then back to the rest of the crowd. “Darkstripe and Longtail,” he continued, turning his gaze on the warriors, “you will act as Bluestar’s guards.”
Darkstripe and Longtail nodded importantly, and sat taller.
Bluestar now spoke. Her voice sounded gentle and calming after her deputy’s commanding yowl. “Thank you, Tigerclaw, for your loyalty. But the Clan must understand that I am still here for them. No cat should hesitate to approach me, and I am happy to speak to anyone with or without my bodyguards.” Her eyes darted briefly in Tigerclaw’s direction. “As the warrior code says, the safety of the Clan is more important than the security of any single member.” She paused, and her sky-blue gaze rested briefly on
Firepaw. “And now, I wish to invite Yellowfang to join ThunderClan.”
Meows of surprise rose from some of the warriors. Bluestar looked at Frostfur, who nodded her agreement. The other queens looked on silently.
Bluestar continued. “Her actions last night proved that she is brave and loyal. If she wishes it, we would welcome her as a full member of this Clan.”
From her place at the edge of the crowd, Yellowfang looked up at the Clan leader and murmured, “I am honored, Bluestar, and I accept your offer.”
“Good,” meowed Bluestar, her voice firm as if the matter was now closed.
Firepaw purred with delight and nudged Graypaw. He was surprised to realize just how much Bluestar’s public show of trust in Yellowfang meant to him.
Bluestar began to speak again. “Last night we successfully defended ourselves against ShadowClan, but they are still a great threat. The repair work we began this morning will continue. Our boundaries will be patrolled constantly. We must not assume that the war is over.”
Tigerclaw stood up, his tail held high, and glared down at the assembled cats. “ShadowClan attacked while we were away from camp,” he growled. “They chose their moment well. How did they know that the camp was so poorly defended? Do they have eyes inside our camp?”
Firepaw froze in horror as Tigerclaw fixed his cold stare on Ravenpaw. Some of the cats followed their new deputy’s gaze and stared in puzzlement at the black apprentice. Ravenpaw looked at the ground and shifted his paws nervously.
Tigerclaw went on. “We still have a while before sunset. We must concentrate on rebuilding our camp. Meanwhile, if you suspect anything, or anyone, tell me. Be assured, anything you say will be in confidence.” He nodded to dismiss the Clan, then turned and began murmuring to Bluestar.
The cats separated and began to move around the camp, assessing damage and forming work groups.
“Ravenpaw!” Firepaw called, still shocked by Tigerclaw’s dark hint that his own apprentice had betrayed the Clan. But Ravenpaw had already bounded away. Firepaw could see him offering to help Halftail and Whitestorm, before rushing off to collect twigs so they could patch the holes in the boundary wall. Ravenpaw clearly didn’t want to talk.
“Let’s go and help him,” suggested Graypaw. His voice was flat and exhausted, and his eyes were dull.
“You go. I’ll be there in a moment,” Firepaw answered. “First I want to check on Yellowfang, see if she’s okay after her fight with Blackfoot.”
He looked for Yellowfang in her nest by the fallen tree. She was stretched out in the shadows, her eyes thoughtful.
“Firepaw,” she purred when she saw him. “I’m glad you have come.”
“I wanted to check that you were all right,” Firepaw mewed.
“Old habits stay longer than old scents, eh?” meowed Yellowfang with a flash of her old spirit.
“I suppose so,” Firepaw confessed. “How are you feeling?”
“This old leg injury is playing up again, but I’ll be fine,” Yellowfang told him.
“How did you manage to fight Blackfoot off?” Firepaw asked, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice.
“Blackfoot’s strong, but he’s not a clever fighter. Fighting you was more of a challenge.”
Firepaw looked for the flicker of humor in the old cat’s eyes, but there was none.
She continued, “I’ve known him since he was a kit. He hasn’t changed—a bully, but no brains.”
Firepaw sat down beside her. “I’m not surprised Bluestar asked you to join the Clan,” he purred. “You certainly showed your loyalty last night.”
Yellowfang twitched her tail. “Perhaps a truly loyal cat would have fought at the side of the Clan that raised her.”
“But then I’d be fighting for my Twolegs!” Firepaw pointed out.
Yellowfang shot him an admiring glance. “Well said, youngster. But then, you have always been a thinker.”
Sorrow pierced Firepaw’s heart as he remembered these were Lionheart’s words too. “Do you miss ShadowClan?” he asked Yellowfang.
Yellowfang blinked slowly. “I miss the old ShadowClan,” she meowed at last. “The way it used to be.”
“Until Brokenstar became leader?” Firepaw was curious.
“Yes,” Yellowfang admitted softly. “He changed the Clan.” She gave a wheezy laugh. “He always knew how to give a good speech. He could make you believe a mouse was a rabbit if he set his mind to it. Perhaps that is why I was so blind to his faults.” The old she-cat stared into the distance, lost in memories.
“Bet you can’t guess who the new ShadowClan medicine cat is?” Firepaw mewed, suddenly remembering what he had learned at the Gathering. It felt like moons ago now.
His words seemed to shake Yellowfang back into the present. “Not Runningnose?” she meowed.
“Yep!”
Yellowfang shook her head. “But he can’t even cure his own cold!”
“That’s what Graypaw said!” They purred together for a moment, amused. Firepaw got to his paws. “I’ll leave you to rest now. Call me if you need anything else today.”
Yellowfang lifted her head. “Before you go, Firepaw, I hear you were in a rat fight. Did they draw blood?”
“It’s okay, Spottedleaf has treated my wounds with marigold.”
“Sometimes marigold is not strong enough for rat bites. Go and find a patch of wild garlic to roll in. I think there’s some not far from the camp entrance. That will draw out any poisons the rats may have left. Although,” she added dryly, “your denmates might not thank me for my advice!”
“Well, I do. Thanks, Yellowfang!” Firepaw purred.
“Go carefully, young one.” Yellowfang held his gaze for a moment, then let her chin rest on her front paws and closed her eyes.
Firepaw slipped under the branches around Yellowfang’s nest and headed for the gorse tunnel, in search of the wild garlic. The sun was setting now, and he could hear the queens settling their kits for the night.
“Where do you think you’re going?” growled a voice from the shadows. It was Darkstripe.
“Yellowfang told me to go out and—”
“You don’t take orders from that rogue!” hissed the warrior. “Go and help with the repairs. No cat is to leave the camp tonight!” He lashed his tail from side to side.
“Yes, Darkstripe,” Firepaw mewed, dipping his head submissively. He turned and muttered “Dirtstripe!” under his breath, then headed toward the camp boundary, where he could see Graypaw and Ravenpaw busily patching a large hole in the wall of greenery.
“How’s Yellowfang?” asked Graypaw as Firepaw trotted up.
“She’s fine. She said wild garlic would be good for my rat bites. I was on my way to find some, but Darkstripe ordered me to stay in camp,” Firepaw told him.
“Wild garlic?” mewed Graypaw. “I wouldn’t mind trying that. My leg still stings.”
“I could sneak out and get some,” Firepaw offered. He had resented Darkstripe’s offhand treatment and welcomed the chance to outwit him. “No one would notice if I slipped out of this hole here. It’d only take a couple of rabbit hops.”
Ravenpaw frowned, but Graypaw nodded. “We’ll cover for you,” he whispered.
Firepaw nuzzled him gratefully and jumped out through the tear in the boundary wall.
Once outside the camp, he began to make his way to the wild garlic patch, the sharp tang alerting him easily to its location. The moon was rising in the violet sky as the sun sank below the horizon. A cold breeze ruffled Firepaw’s fur. Suddenly he caught a cat-scent carried toward him on the wind. He sniffed cautiously. ShadowClan? No, just Tigerclaw, and two other cats. He sniffed the air again. Darkstripe and Longtail! What were they doing here?
Curious, Firepaw dropped into a stalking position. He prowled through the undergrowth paw by paw, keeping downwind so that he was not detected. The warriors were standing in the shadow of a clump of ferns, their heads very close together. Soon Firepaw was near enough to hear them
speak.
“StarClan knows, my apprentice has shown little promise from the start, but I never expected him to turn traitor!” growled Tigerclaw.
Firepaw’s eyes widened and his fur prickled with shock. It sounded like Tigerclaw intended to do more than just hint that Ravenpaw had betrayed the Clan!
“How long did you say Ravenpaw was missing on the journey to Mothermouth?” asked Darkstripe.
“Long enough to have traveled to ShadowClan’s camp and back,” came the deputy’s menacing answer.
The fur on Firepaw’s tail bristled angrily. That’s impossible! he thought. He was with us the whole time!
Longtail’s voice sounded now, high-pitched with excitement: “He must have told them that ThunderClan’s leader and the strongest warrior had left the camp. Why else would they attack when they did?”
“We are the last Clan to stand against ShadowClan. We must remain strong,” purred Tigerclaw. His tone had become velvety soft now. He waited in silence for a response.
It was Darkstripe who answered, eagerly, as if he were still Tigerclaw’s apprentice, giving the correct answer to a question on hunting techniques. His words made Firepaw breathless with fear. “And the Clan would be better off without a traitor like Ravenpaw.”
“I have to say I agree with you, Darkstripe,” murmured Tigerclaw, his voice heavy with emotion. “Even though he’s my own apprentice . . .” He trailed off as if he were too upset to say any more.
Firepaw had heard enough. Forgetting all about the wild garlic, he turned and crept as silently and as quickly as he could back toward the camp.
He decided not to tell Ravenpaw what he had heard. He would be terrified. Firepaw’s mind raced. What could he do? Tigerclaw was the Clan deputy, a great warrior, and popular with all of the other cats. No one was going to listen to any accusations made by an apprentice. But Ravenpaw was in terrible danger. Firepaw shook himself, trying to clear his head. There was only one thing to do—he must tell what he had heard to Bluestar, and somehow convince her that he was telling the truth!