A Dangerous Path

Chapter 18

As Fireheart wearily pushed his way through the entrance to the camp he spotted Bramblekit dashing toward him, almost falling over his paws in his eagerness to greet the returning warriors. “Did we win?” he asked. He stopped and stared round-eyed at Graystripe. “Who’s this? Is he a prisoner?”

“No, he’s a ThunderClan cat,” Fireheart replied. “It’s a long story, Bramblekit, and I’m too tired to explain now. Get your mother to tell you.”

Bramblekit took a step back, looking slightly crestfallen. Though he wouldn’t remember it, Fireheart reflected, he had suckled side by side with Graystripe’s two kits. Goldenflower had cared for them in the few days they had spent in ThunderClan after Silverstream’s death.

The dark tabby kit eyed Graystripe suspiciously as the two warriors padded past him, and then turned to Tawnykit as she came bounding up. “Look!” he mewed. “There’s a new cat in the Clan.”

“Who is he?” Tawnykit wondered.

“A traitor,” Darkstripe spat as he stalked past on his way to the warriors’ den. “But then, we’re all traitors, according to Bluestar.”

The two kits stared at him with total bewilderment in their faces. Fireheart fought down his fury; there was no time to start an argument with Darkstripe, but the warrior had no business letting his anger spill over onto the kits. Feeling an unusual pang of sympathy for Bramblekit, he turned back and meowed, “Yes, we did win. We keep Sunningrocks.”

Bramblekit gave a little joyous bounce. “Great! I’m going to tell the elders.” He scurried off with Tawnykit hard on his paws.

“Those are Tigerstar’s kits, aren’t they?” asked Graystripe curiously, watching them go.

“Yes.” Fireheart didn’t want to discuss them now. “Let’s go see Cinderpelt and get patched up.”

Graystripe looked around as the two warriors crossed the burned-out clearing. “It’s never going to be the same,” he muttered despondently.

“Next newleaf, you’ll see,” Fireheart replied, trying to cheer him up. He hoped Graystripe was only referring to the damage caused by the fire, and not a sense that he could never recover his old place within the Clan. “Everything will grow back stronger than before.”

Graystripe didn’t reply. He didn’t look as happy as Fireheart had expected him to be, as if he were beginning to doubt that the rest of his birth Clan would accept him. And Fireheart could see pain in his eyes that suggested he was already beginning to miss the kits he had given up. After all, he hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.

The returning warriors were gathering in Cinderpelt’s clearing. As Fireheart and Graystripe approached, the medicine cat looked up from pressing cobwebs against a wound in Cloudpaw’s side. “Here’s Fireheart now,” she mewed, and added, “Great StarClan, you look as if you’ve been fighting monsters on the Thunderpath.”

“It feels like it.” Fireheart grunted. Settling down to wait for Cinderpelt to check him over, he realized how much his wounds hurt. The one in the leg that Leopardstar had given him was still bleeding, and he bent his head to lick it.

“What are you thinking, bringing him back again?” Fireheart looked up to see Dustpelt glaring at Graystripe. “We don’t want him here.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Fireheart asked, gritting his teeth. “I think he belongs here—and so does Sandstorm, and—” He broke off as Dustpelt pointedly turned his back.

Graystripe shot an apologetic look at Fireheart. “They won’t accept me,” he mewed. “It’s true; I left the Clan, and now…”

“Give it time,” Fireheart tried to encourage him. “They’ll come around.”

Privately, he wished he could believe it. Thanks to Bluestar’s indifference, some of the ThunderClan cats would have no qualms about objecting to Graystripe’s return. One more problem, Fireheart thought, to add to his worries about what was really going on in the forest. How could the Clan hope to survive the destruction StarClan had prophesied, unless they were united?

Fireheart wondered if Graystripe knew about the dark threat in the forest from RiverClan’s medicine cat the “pack” that StarClan had warned them of. Though Fireheart’s fur prickled with dread, there was some comfort in knowing that Graystripe was back, and he would have his friend to rely on, whatever lay ahead. Fireheart began to lick his wound again, wishing that he could just enjoy the gray warrior’s return for a few moments.

“That’s right, get it clean,” Cinderpelt meowed as she came up to him. She sniffed at the leg wound and then rapidly checked his other injuries. “You’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’ll give you some cobwebs for the bleeding, but apart from that you just need to rest.”

“Have you seen Bluestar?” Fireheart asked as Cinderpelt brought the cobwebs and laid them over the wound. “Is she badly hurt?”

“A bite on her shoulder,” replied the medicine cat. “I gave her a poultice of herbs, and she went back to her den.”

Fireheart struggled to his paws. “I’d better go and see her.”

“Okay, but if she’s asleep, don’t wake her. Clan business, whatever it is, can wait. And while Fireheart does that,” she added to Graystripe, “I’ll have a look at you.” She gave his ear a quick lick. “It’s good to have you back.”

At least some cats would welcome Graystripe, Fireheart told himself as he padded across the clearing. The others would change their minds; Graystripe just needed time to prove that he would to be a loyal member of ThunderClan again.

“Fireheart!” Sandstorm hailed him as he approached Bluestar’s den. “Mousefur and I are going out to hunt.”

“Thanks,” Fireheart mewed gratefully.

“Are you all right?” Sandstorm drew closer, her eyes narrowing. “I thought you’d be pleased—we won the battle, and Graystripe has come home.”

Fireheart pressed his muzzle briefly against her flank. He felt a pang of relief that the ginger she-cat seemed to have forgiven him for going behind Bluestar’s back to arrange the talk with WindClan. “I know—but I’m not sure that all the cats will accept Graystripe. They’ll find it hard to forget that he loved a cat from another Clan, and then left us altogether.”

Sandstorm shrugged. “That’s in the past. He’s here now, isn’t he? They’ll just have to put up with it.”

“That’s not the point!” Pain and weariness made Fireheart more irritable than he intended. “We can’t afford quarrels just now. Can’t you see that?”

Sandstorm stared at him, anger flaring in her pale green eyes. “Sorry, I’m sure,” she spat. “I was only trying to help.”

“Sandstorm, don’t…” Fireheart began, realizing too late that he’d said the wrong thing. But Sandstorm had already turned away and was stalking back toward the warriors’ den, where Mousefur was waiting for her.

Feeling even more despondent than before, Fireheart went on to Bluestar’s den. When he looked through the entrance he thought she was asleep, curled up in her nest, but almost at once her blue eyes blinked open and she raised her head.

“Fireheart.” Her voice was dull. “What do you want?”

“Just reporting, Bluestar.” Fireheart slipped into the den and stood in front of his leader. “All the cats are back. There are no serious injuries, as far as I can see.”

“Good.” Sounding a little more interested, she added, “Your apprentice fought well today.”

“Yes, he did.” Fireheart felt a rush of pride in his kin. Whatever problems there had been with Cloudpaw in the past, no one could question his courage.

“I think it’s time he became a warrior,” Bluestar went on. “We’ll hold his naming ceremony at sunset.”

Hope flared in Fireheart’s chest. Had Bluestar finally accepted the need to make new warriors?

But his optimism ebbed away like water into sand when Bluestar’s lips curled into a sneer, and she added, “There must be a ceremony, I suppose. It means nothing to me, but these cats are so gullible they’ll never accept Cloudpaw without one.”

And how much meaning does the ceremony have for Cloudpaw? Fireheart asked himself. Does he really care about the warrior code? If not, he reflected, then the young cat didn’t deserve to become a warrior, no matter how well he fought.

But Bluestar had made up her mind, and Fireheart wouldn’t try to change it. Instead he suggested, “Swiftpaw should be a warrior too. He did well today.”

“Swiftpaw carried a message back to the camp. That’s apprentice work. He’s not ready to become a warrior yet.”

“But he came back to the battle,” Fireheart objected.

“No!” Bluestar’s tail lashed in anger. “I cannot trust Swiftpaw. Cloudpaw is stronger and braver—and besides, he doesn’t grovel to StarClan like the rest of you. The Clan needs more warriors like that.”

Fireheart wanted to say that Cloudpaw’s lack of respect for the warrior code was the last thing ThunderClan needed, but he did not dare. Instead he dipped his head and backed away. “I’ll see you at sunset,” he meowed, and went to break the news to Cloudpaw.

His apprentice, as Fireheart had guessed, was delighted at the news that he was to become a warrior at last. Fireheart instructed him on what he had to do in the ceremony, and then headed for the warriors’ den and some much-needed sleep. His heart sank right to his paws when he spotted Longtail sitting with the apprentices outside their den. There was one more thing he had to do before he could rest.

Padding toward Longtail, he jerked his muzzle for the tabby warrior to join him, out of earshot of the apprentices. “Longtail,” he began, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry, I’ve got some bad news. Bluestar has agreed to make Cloudpaw a warrior, but—”

“But not Swiftpaw?” Longtail finished angrily. “That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Longtail,” he meowed. “I tried to persuade Bluestar, but she wouldn’t agree.”

“So you say.” The pale warrior sneered. “But it’s strange that your apprentice is chosen, and mine is ignored. Swiftpaw never went off to live with Twolegs!”

“I’m not going into all that again,” Fireheart retorted. Cloudpaw had never intended to leave the Clan, but every cat knew that he had visited the Twoleg nest regularly for food before the Twolegs captured him and shut him in. “Bluestar said she’s making Cloudpaw a warrior because he fought well, while Swiftpaw…”

“Took a message.” Longtail’s tabby fur bristled with fury. “And who made him take it? He would have stayed to fight if you hadn’t sent him away!”

“I know that,” Fireheart mewed wearily. “I’m just as disappointed as you are. I’ll do my best to get Swiftpaw made a warrior soon, I promise.”

“If I believed that, I’d believe anything!” Longtail spat. He turned his back on Fireheart, scraped angrily at the ground as if he were covering his dirt, and stalked back to the apprentices.

The sun was sinking behind the wall of the camp when Fireheart emerged from the warriors’ den with Graystripe close behind him. Sleep had restored his body, and he tried to feel optimistic about the coming ceremony, even though he was not looking forward to it.

Shadows were stretching across the camp, and Fireheart saw that Bluestar had emerged from her den. To his relief she was moving easily, and the shoulder wound she had taken in the battle didn’t seem to be bothering her as she sprang up onto the Highrock.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting,” she called.

Graystripe gave Fireheart a friendly nudge. “You’ve done well with Cloudpaw,” he meowed. “I never thought that pest of a kit would grow up into such a fine warrior!”

Fireheart acknowledged his friend’s praise by pressing his muzzle against the gray warrior’s shoulder. His friend remember how upset he had been when Cinderpelt had her accident, and knew how much it meant to Fireheart to have an apprentice ready to be made a warrior at last. Graystripe had seen his own apprentice, Brackenpaw, made a warrior long ago.

Many of the cats were already in the clearing. News of Cloudpaw’s warrior ceremony must have spread around the camp. Cinderpelt appeared from her den and took her place near the base of the rock, while Goldenflower brought her two kits to sit at the front of the gathering crowd. Willowpelt’s litter stayed with their mother near the entrance to the nursery.

Fireheart couldn’t help noticing that the other apprentices were the last to join the circle around the rock. He saw Brightpaw nudging Swiftpaw out of their den. Even when the black-and-white cat had crossed the clearing, he stayed on the very edge of the crowd, and the other apprentices settled down around him.

A pang of dismay shot through Fireheart. It wasn’t Cloudpaw’s fault that Bluestar had chosen him and none of the others. It would be hard for him not to have the good wishes of his friends when he became a warrior.

But Cloudpaw didn’t seem bothered. He strolled out of the elders’ den and padded across to Fireheart with his tail waving in the air, his eyes shining with excitement.

Fireheart murmured into his ear, “I’m very proud of you, Cloudpaw. Tomorrow you can take a hunting patrol over to Twolegplace and tell Princess.”

Cloudpaw shot him a delighted look, but before he could say anything, Bluestar spoke. “Cloudpaw, you fought well against RiverClan this morning, and I have decided that the time has come for you to take your place as a warrior in ThunderClan.”

The white tom turned to face the Highrock and gazed up at his leader as she began to speak the ritual words. “I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.”

Her voice was harsh, and Fireheart thought that it was obvious that she was merely going through the motions of a ritual that had ceased to have meaning for her. Uneasily he wondered whether StarClan would be willing to watch over Cloudpaw when neither he nor his leader had any respect for their warrior ancestors.

“Cloudpaw,” Bluestar continued, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” Cloudpaw meowed fervently.

Did he understand what he was promising? Fireheart wondered. He was sure that Cloudpaw would do his best to protect the Clan, because these cats were his friends, but he knew that the young cat wouldn’t be prompted to act by any sense of loyalty to the warrior code.

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name,” Bluestar went on, each word dragged out of her like thorns. “Cloudpaw, from this moment you will be known as Cloudtail. StarClan honors your courage and your independence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Leaping down from the Highrock, she padded over to Cloudtail and rested her muzzle on his head. Cloudtail gave her shoulder a respectful lick, then went over to stand beside Fireheart.

This was the moment at which the Clan should have greeted the new warrior by chanting his name, but now there was only silence. Fireheart heard uneasy murmurs start up around him, as if the cats had sensed Bluestar’s lack of conviction when she recited the ritual. Flicking a glance at the apprentices at the edge of the crowd, Fireheart saw that they were all looking at their paws, and Swiftpaw had turned his back on his old den mate.

Cloudtail was beginning to look a little crestfallen when Brindleface, who had suckled him as a tiny kit, padded up and pressed her tabby muzzle against his. “Well done, Cloudtail!” she exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!”

As if she had given a signal, Cinderpelt and Graystripe came up, and then at last the other cats began to crowd around, greeting Cloudtail by his new name and congratulating him. Fireheart breathed a sigh of relief that the awkward moment was over. But he couldn’t help noticing that Longtail was nowhere to be seen, and the apprentices waited until the very end to come up, led by Brightpaw, each mewing a few quick, subdued words before slipping away again. Swiftpaw was not among them.

“You’re keeping vigil tonight,” Fireheart reminded his former apprentice, trying to sound as if this were like any other warrior naming ceremony. “Remember, you have to stay silent until dawn.”

Cloudtail nodded and padded off to take up a position in the center of the clearing. His head and tail were raised proudly, but Fireheart knew that the ceremony had been shadowed by the jealousy of the other apprentices, and by Bluestar’s transparent loss of faith.

How long could the Clan survive, Fireheart wondered, when their leader no longer honored StarClan?