Forest Of Secrets

Chapter 13

It was a cold, gray morning. Fireheart dragged himself reluctantly out of his warm nest, and padded over to nudge Graystripe.

“Wha…?” Graystripe twitched and settled down again with his tail wrapped over his nose. “Go away, Fireheart.”

Fireheart lowered his head and butted the broad gray shoulder. “Come on, Graystripe,” he whispered into his friend’s ear. “We’ve got to hunt for RiverClan.”

At that, Graystripe levered himself upright and parted his jaws in an enormous yawn. Fireheart felt just as tired as his friend; supplying RiverClan with fresh-kill as well as keeping up with their duties in ThunderClan was taking up all their time and energy. They had crossed the river with prey several times, and so far their luck had held. No ThunderClan cat had found out what they were doing.

Stretching, Fireheart glanced cautiously around the den. Most of the warriors were curled among the moss, too sound asleep to ask awkward questions. Tigerclaw was just a mound of dark tabby fur in his nest.

Fireheart slipped out between the branches of the den. At first he thought that all the other cats were asleep; then he saw Brindleface appear at the entrance to the nursery and lift her face to sniff the air. As if she didn’t like the raw, damp wind that greeted her, she retreated almost at once.

Fireheart looked back at Graystripe, who was shaking scraps of moss off his coat. “Okay,” he meowed. “We can go now.”

The two cats bounded across the clearing toward the gorse tunnel. Just as they reached it, a familiar voice behind them called out, “Fireheart! Fireheart!”

Fireheart froze and turned around. Cloudkit was scampering toward him, yowling, “Fireheart! Wait for me!”

“Fireheart,” growled Graystripe, “why does your kin always turn up at the most awkward moment?”

“StarClan knows.” Fireheart sighed.

“Where are you going?” Cloudkit panted excitedly as he skidded to a stop in front of the warriors. “Can I come with you?”

“No,” Graystripe told him. “Only apprentices can go out with warriors.”

Cloudkit shot Graystripe a look of dislike. “But I’ll be an apprentice soon. Won’t I, Fireheart?”

“‘Soon’ isn’t ‘now,’” Fireheart reminded him, struggling to keep calm. If they hung around much longer, the whole Clan would be awake and wanting to know where they were going. “You can’t come this time, Cloudkit. We’re going out on a special warrior mission.”

Cloudkit’s blue eyes grew round with wonder. “Is it a secret?”

“Yes,” hissed Graystripe. “Especially from nosey kits.”

“I wouldn’t tell any cat,” Cloudkit promised eagerly. “Fireheart, please let me come.”

“No.” Fireheart exchanged an exasperated glance with Graystripe. “Look, Cloudkit, go back to the nursery now, and maybe I’ll take you out later for some hunting practice. Okay?”

“Okay…I suppose.” Cloudkit looked sulky, but he turned around and trailed off in the direction of the nursery.

Fireheart watched him until he reached the entrance, and then slipped into the mouth of the tunnel. Moments later he was racing up the ravine with Graystripe at his side.

“I just hope Cloudkit doesn’t tell the whole Clan we went out early on a special mission,” puffed Graystripe.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Fireheart panted.

The two warriors headed for the stepping-stones. The fallen tree was still there to help them cross the river, and hunting close by meant they had less distance to carry the fresh-kill, and were less likely to be spotted.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, the daylight had grown stronger, but the sunrise was hidden behind a mass of gray cloud. There was a spatter of rain in the wind. Fireheart couldn’t help feeling that all sensible prey would be curled up in their holes. He raised his head and sniffed. The breeze carried the scent of squirrel, fresh and not far away. Cautiously he began to stalk through the trees. Soon he caught sight of his prey searching among the debris at the foot of an oak tree. As he watched, it sat up and began to nibble on an acorn held between its front paws.

“If it knows we’re here,” Graystripe breathed in his ear, “it’ll be up that tree in a flash.”

Fireheart nodded. “Circle around,” he murmured. “Come at it from that side.”

Graystripe slid away from him, a silent gray shape in the shadows of the trees. Fireheart flattened himself into the hunter’s crouch with the ease of long practice, and began to creep up on the squirrel. He saw its ears prick, and its head swiveled around as if something had alarmed it; perhaps it had seen a flicker of movement from Graystripe, or caught his scent.

While it was distracted, Fireheart hurled himself across the open ground. His claws pinned the squirrel to the forest floor, and Graystripe ran forward to finish the struggle.

“Well done,” Fireheart grunted.

Graystripe spat out a mouthful of fur. “It’s a bit old and stringy, but it’ll do.”

The two warriors continued their hunt until they had killed a rabbit and a couple of mice. By then, although he could not see the sun, Fireheart knew it must be near sunhigh. “We’d better take this to RiverClan,” he meowed. “They’re bound to miss us back at the camp soon.”

Stumbling slightly under the weight of the squirrel and one of the mice, he led the way to the fallen tree. To his relief, the water was no higher, and the crossing seemed easier now that he had done it several times. All the same, Fireheart felt uneasy as he scrambled through the branches, knowing that he was in full view of any ThunderClan cat who happened to be patrolling the forest’s edge.

He and Graystripe swam the last couple of fox-lengths and pulled themselves out of the river on the RiverClan side. When they had shaken the water out of their fur they slunk quickly toward the bushes where RiverClan had made their temporary camp.

A cat must have been on watch, because as they approached, Leopardfur emerged from the bushes. “Welcome,” she meowed, sounding a lot friendlier than she had when she first came upon them with the two kits they had rescued.

Fireheart followed her into the shelter of the hawthorn branches, remembering how he and Graystripe had hidden there to wait for Silverstream. The RiverClan cats had worked hard since the floods forced them out of their camp, bringing moss for bedding and scraping out a place beside the roots of a large bush where fresh-kill could be stored. Today this was little more than a pitiful collection of a few mice and a couple of blackbirds, which made the ThunderClan warriors’ contribution all the more necessary. Fireheart dropped his prey onto the pile, and Graystripe did the same.

“Is that more fresh-kill?” Stonefur appeared with Silverstream just behind him. “Great!”

“We have to feed the elders and the nursing queens first,” Leopardfur reminded him.

“I’ll take something for the elders,” Silverstream offered. She turned a long look on Graystripe and meowed, “You can help me. Fetch that rabbit, will you?”

Fireheart felt a sudden jolt of alarm. Surely Silverstream wouldn’t risk spending time alone with Graystripe in the middle of her own camp? On their earlier visits, she had kept her distance.

Graystripe didn’t need another invitation. “Sure,” he mewed, grabbing the rabbit and following Silverstream out of the bushes.

“They’ve got the right idea,” meowed Stonefur. “Fireheart, do you want to bring the squirrel to the nursing queens? Then they can thank you themselves.”

Feeling somewhat dazed, Fireheart agreed. Following Stonefur, he reflected again on how strange it was to look at the RiverClan warrior and know that he was half ThunderClan, especially since Stonefur himself didn’t share that knowledge.

In the makeshift nursery, Fireheart was pleased to see Mistyfoot again, stretched out on her side while her kits suckled contentedly. But he couldn’t help worrying about Graystripe. Once he had greeted the queens, and helped them divide up the squirrel, he murmured to Stonefur, “Can you show me where Graystripe went? We ought to be getting back, before any cat notices we’re missing.”

“Sure, this way,” meowed Stonefur. He led Fireheart to a spot farther along the ridge where three or four elders were crouched on a bed of heather and bracken, tucking into the fresh-kill. Already not much was left of the rabbit except a few scraps of fur.

Graystripe and Silverstream were watching in silence, sitting side by side but not quite touching, with their tails wrapped around their paws. As soon as they saw Fireheart they sprang up and padded over to him.

Graystripe’s yellow eyes blazed with a mixture of excitement and fear. “Fireheart!” he blurted out. “You won’t believe what Silverstream’s just told me!”

Fireheart glanced behind him, but Stonefur was already disappearing off into the bushes. The elders, having just eaten, looked sleepy, and none of them was paying any attention to Graystripe.

“Okay, what?” Fireheart mewed, his fur starting to prickle with unease. “But keep your voice down.”

Graystripe looked ready to burst out of his skin. “Fireheart,” he whispered, “Silverstream is going to have my kits!”