Forest Of Secrets

Chapter 19

Shocked and angry caterwauls rose up from the cats surrounding the Great Rock. Every muscle in Fireheart’s body urged him to creep backward into the bushes and hide from their fury. It took all his strength to stay where he was. Sandstorm pressed against his side, as shaken as he was, and he found her warmth comforting.

On top of the Great Rock, Tallstar whipped around to face Bluestar. “Is this true?” he snarled.

Bluestar did not reply to him at once. With great dignity, she stepped forward and faced Nightstar. The moonlight glowed on her fur, turning it to silver, so that Fireheart could almost believe that a warrior of StarClan had leaped down from Silverpelt to join them. She waited until the noise from below had died down. “How do you know this?” she coolly asked Nightstar when she could make herself heard. “Have you been spying on our camp?”

“Spying!” Nightstar spat the word out. “There’s no need to spy when your apprentices gossip so freely. My warriors heard this at the last Gathering. Do you dare to stand here now and tell me they are wrong?”

As he spoke, Fireheart remembered seeing Swiftpaw with the ShadowClan apprentices at the end of the last Gathering. No wonder the young cat had looked guilty, if he had been telling his friends all about ThunderClan’s prisoner, so soon after Bluestar had ordered all her Clan to keep quiet!

Bluestar hesitated. Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for her. Many of her own Clan had been unhappy with her decision to shelter blind Brokentail. How was she going to defend herself in front of the other Clans?

Tallstar crouched in front of her, his ears flattened. “Is it true?” he repeated.

For a moment Bluestar did not speak. Then she lifted her head defiantly. “Yes, it’s true,” she meowed.

“Traitor!” spat Tallstar. “You know what Brokenstar did to us.”

Bluestar’s tail tip twitched; even from his place below the rock Fireheart could see the strain in every muscle of her body, and knew she was struggling to keep calm. “No cat dares to call me traitor!” she hissed.

“I dare,” retorted Tallstar. “You are nothing but a traitor to the warrior code, if you are willing to give shelter to that…that heap of foxdung!”

All around the clearing WindClan cats leaped to their paws, yowling in support of their leader. “Traitor! Traitor!”

At the foot of the Great Rock, Tigerclaw and Deadfoot, the WindClan deputy, faced each other with their hackles raised, lips drawn back to show their sharp teeth, their noses no more than a mouse-length apart.

Fireheart sprang up too, his fighting instinct sending energy to his paws. He caught a glimpse of Willowpelt snarling at the WindClan queens with whom she had been sharing tongues a few moments before. A couple of ShadowClan warriors paced threateningly toward Darkstripe, and Mousefur leaped to his side, ready to attack.

“Stop!” Bluestar yowled from her place on the Great Rock. “How can you break the truce like this? Would you risk the wrath of StarClan?”

As she spoke, the moonlight began to fade. Every cat in the clearing froze. Looking up, Fireheart saw a wisp of cloud passing over the face of the moon. He shivered. Was that a warning from StarClan, because the Clans seemed about to break the sacred truce? Clouds had covered the moon once before, a sign of StarClan’s anger that had brought the Gathering to an end.

As the cloud passed away the moonlight strengthened again. The moment of crisis had passed. Most of the cats sat down, though they continued to glare at one another. Whitestorm pushed himself between Deadfoot and Tigerclaw, and started to mew urgently into the ThunderClan deputy’s ear.

On the top of the Great Rock, Crookedstar stepped forward to stand beside Bluestar. He looked calm; Fireheart realized that of all the Clans, RiverClan had least reason to hate Brokentail. He had not crossed the river into their territory, or stolen their kits.

“Bluestar,” he meowed, “tell us why you have done this.”

“Brokentail is blind,” Bluestar replied, her voice ringing out so that every cat in the clearing could hear her. “He is an old, defeated cat. He is no danger, not anymore. Would you have him starve to death in the forest?”

“Yes!” Nightstar’s voice rose, shrill and insistent. “No death is too cruel for him!” Flecks of foam spun from the ShadowClan leader’s lips. He thrust his head aggressively toward Tallstar and snarled, “Will you forgive the cat who drove you out?”

For a moment Fireheart wondered why Nightstar should be so frantic, so intent on whipping up Tallstar’s hatred like this. He was Clan leader now. What harm could a blind prisoner do him?

Tallstar flinched away from the ShadowClan leader, clearly taken aback by his fury. “You know how much this means to my Clan,” he meowed. “We will never forgive Brokenstar.”

“Then I tell you, you’re wrong,” meowed Bluestar. “The warrior code tells us to show compassion. Tallstar, don’t you remember what ThunderClan did for you when you were defeated and driven out? We found you and brought you home, and later we fought beside you against RiverClan. Have you forgotten what you owe us?”

Far from soothing Tallstar, Bluestar’s words angered the WindClan leader more than ever. He stalked up to her, his fur bristling. “Does ThunderClan claim to own us?” he spat out. “Is that why you brought us back, to bow to your wishes and accept your decisions without question? Do you think WindClan has no honor?”

Bluestar bowed her head in the face of the WindClan leader’s fury. “Tallstar,” she meowed. “You’re right that no Clan can own another. That’s not what I meant. But remember how you felt when you were weak, and try to show compassion now. If we drive Brokentail out to die, we’re no better than he is.”

“Compassion?” spat Nightstar. “Don’t give us tales fit for kits, Bluestar! What compassion did Brokenstar ever show?” Yowls of agreement filled the air as he spoke. Nightstar added, “You must drive him out now, Bluestar, or I’ll want to know the reason why.”

Bluestar’s eyes narrowed to glittering blue slits. “Don’t tell me how to run my Clan!”

“I’ll tell you this,” Nightstar growled. “If ThunderClan keeps on sheltering Brokenstar, you can expect trouble. ShadowClan will see to that.”

“And WindClan,” snarled Tallstar.

For a moment Bluestar was silent. Fireheart knew she knew how dangerous it was to make enemies of two Clans at once, especially when some of her own cats were unhappy with her decision to take care of Brokentail. “ThunderClan does not take orders from other Clans,” she meowed at last. “We do what we think is right.”

“Right?” Nightstar jeered. “To shelter that bloodthirsty—”

“Enough!” Bluestar interrupted. “No more argument. There’s other business to discuss at this Gathering, or had you forgotten?”

Nightstar and Tallstar exchanged a glance, and while they hesitated Crookedstar stepped forward to report on the floods and the damage done to the RiverClan camp. They let him speak, though Fireheart didn’t think that many cats were listening. The hollow was buzzing with shocked speculation about Brokentail.

Sandstorm pressed closer to Fireheart and mewed in his ear, “I knew there’d be trouble over Brokentail, as soon as Nightstar started to speak.”

“I know,” Fireheart replied. “But Bluestar can’t send him away now. It would look as if she were giving in. No cat would respect her after that, not from ThunderClan or any Clan.”

Sandstorm gave a low purr of agreement. Fireheart tried to concentrate on the rest of the Gathering, but it was difficult. He couldn’t help being aware of the hostile glares on all sides from the cats of WindClan and ShadowClan, and he wished the Gathering were over.

It seemed a long time before the moon began to sink and cats began to divide into their patrols for the journey home. In silent accord, the ThunderClan warriors bounded up to Bluestar as soon as she left the Great Rock and made a protective circle around her. Fireheart guessed they were all as uncertain as he was that the truce would hold.

As the warriors formed up around Bluestar, Fireheart caught sight of Onewhisker, slipping past on his way to join a group of WindClan cats. Their eyes met, and Onewhisker paused. “I’m sorry about this, Fireheart,” he meowed softly. “I haven’t forgotten how you brought us home.”

“Thanks, Onewhisker,” Fireheart replied. “I wish—”

He broke off as Tigerclaw pushed his way into the circle of cats, glaring at them and baring his teeth at Onewhisker, who backed away toward the WindClan cats. Fireheart braced himself for a rebuke, but the deputy stalked straight past him.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Tigerclaw snarled at Bluestar as he took his place beside her. “Now two Clans are yowling for our blood. We should have thrown out that piece of vermin long ago.”

Fireheart couldn’t help feeling surprised by Tigerclaw’s hostility toward the ThunderClan prisoner. Not long before, he had seen Tigerclaw sharing tongues with Brokentail, as if the deputy were reconciled to the cat staying in the Clan. But maybe it wasn’t so surprising that he had been ruffled—as they all had—by the clash with WindClan and ShadowClan.

“Tigerclaw, this is no place to argue among ourselves,” Bluestar told him quietly. “When we get back to camp—”

“And how do you intend to get back?” It was Nightstar who interrupted, pushing his way past the ThunderClan warriors. “Not the way you came, I hope. If you set one paw on ShadowClan territory, we’ll rip you to pieces.” He turned and slipped away into the shadows without waiting for a reply.

For a moment Bluestar looked confused. There was no other way back to the ThunderClan camp, Fireheart knew, unless they tried to swim the stream. He shivered at the thought of the fierce current that had almost cost him his life. Would they have to stay at Fourtrees until the floodwater went down? Then he caught the scent of RiverClan, and turned to see Crookedstar approaching with some of his warriors.

“I heard that,” the pale tabby tom addressed Bluestar. “Nightstar is wrong. At a time like this, all cats should help one another.” He glanced at Fireheart as he spoke, and Fireheart guessed he was remembering how Fireheart and Graystripe had helped RiverClan by sharing prey. But none of the ThunderClan cats here, except for Bluestar, knew anything about that, and Fireheart heard some uneasy murmurings from the warriors around him.

“I can offer you a way home,” Crookedstar continued. “To get here, we crossed the river by the Twoleg bridge. If you go that way, you can travel through our territory and cross back lower down—there’s a dead tree caught up by the stepping-stones.”

Before Bluestar could speak, Tigerclaw hissed, “And why should we trust RiverClan?”

Crookedstar ignored him, his amber eyes on Bluestar as he waited for her response. She dipped her head respectfully. “Thank you, Crookedstar. We accept your offer.”

The RiverClan leader nodded briefly and turned to escort her out of the clearing. There was still some muttering among the ThunderClan cats as Bluestar led her warriors through the bushes and up the slope out of the hollow. Cats from ShadowClan and WindClan hissed at them, even though RiverClan warriors flanked them protectively on both sides. Fireheart realized with a jolt that the divisions within the forest had shifted in the space of a single Gathering.

He was relieved when they reached the top of the slope and left the hostile Gathering behind them. He noticed Graystripe trying to edge his way closer to Silverstream, but another of the RiverClan queens was in his way, giving Silverstream a lick from time to time.

“You’re sure you’re not tired?” the queen fussed. “It’s a long journey when you’re expecting kits.”

“No, Greenflower, I’m fine,” Silverstream replied patiently, casting a frustrated glance at Graystripe over her friend’s head.

Tigerclaw brought up the rear of the ThunderClan patrol, swinging his huge head aggressively from side to side as if he expected the RiverClan cats to attack at any moment.

Bluestar, on the other hand, seemed to be quite at ease traveling with the other Clan. Once they were away from Fourtrees she let Crookedstar take the lead, while she dropped back to join Mistyfoot. “I hear you have kits,” she meowed, her voice level. “Are they well?”

Mistyfoot looked slightly surprised to be addressed by the ThunderClan leader. “Two…two of them were swept away in the river,” she stammered. “Fireheart and Graystripe saved them.”

“I’m sorry. You must have been frightened for them,” Bluestar murmured, her blue eyes soft with sympathy. “I’m glad ThunderClan warriors were able to help. Did your kits recover?”

“Yes, they’re fine now, Bluestar.” Mistyfoot still seemed bewildered at being questioned so closely by the ThunderClan leader. “They’re all fine. They’ll be apprentices soon.”

“And I’m sure they’ll make fine warriors,” Bluestar mewed warmly.

Watching his leader and the RiverClan queen walking step for step, Fireheart couldn’t help thinking how their blue-gray fur shone almost identically in the moonlight. They had the same neat, compact bodies, and when they had to leap over a log that lay in their path they both flexed their limbs with the same economical ripple of muscles. Stonefur, coming up behind, was a copy of his sister, with a silver sheen to his coat and an enviable deftness of movement.

If cats from different Clans could look so alike, Fireheart wondered, why couldn’t they think alike too? Why did there have to be so much quarreling between them? Uncomfortably he remembered the antagonism shown toward his Clan by ShadowClan and WindClan, and their bitterness over Bluestar’s defense of Brokentail. As he padded toward the bridge, alert for the scent of Twolegs, Fireheart felt the cold winds of war beginning to sweep over the forest.

On the second dawn after the Gathering, Fireheart woke in the warriors’ den to find that Graystripe had already left. The hollow in the moss where his friend had been sleeping was quite cold.

Gone to meet Silverstream, Fireheart thought with a sigh of resignation. It was hardly surprising, now that Graystripe knew she was going to have his kits, but it meant that Fireheart would have to cover for his absence again.

Yawning widely, Fireheart pushed his way through the outer branches of the bush, and shook moss from his coat while he looked around the clearing. The sun was beginning to edge its way above the bracken wall, casting long shadows over the bare ground. The sky was pure, cloudless, and blue. Birdsong all around held the promise of easy prey.

“Hey, Brackenpaw!” Fireheart called to the apprentice, who sat blinking at the entrance to his den. “Do you want to go hunting?”

Brackenpaw leaped to his paws and raced across the clearing to Fireheart. “Now?” he asked, delight shining in his eyes.

“Yes, now,” meowed Fireheart, suddenly sharing the young cat’s eagerness. “I could do with a nice fresh mouse, couldn’t you?”

Brackenpaw fell in behind him as they headed for the gorse tunnel. He hadn’t even asked where Graystripe was, Fireheart realized. Graystripe had never taken his duties as mentor seriously, he thought with a pang of worry. He had been more interested in Silverstream right from the start. Meanwhile, Fireheart himself had more or less taken over Brackenpaw’s training. He enjoyed it, and he liked the serious-minded ginger tom, but he was troubled that loyalty to the Clan didn’t mean more to Graystripe.

He put these thoughts aside as he led Brackenpaw up the ravine, avoiding the muddy streambed where the floodwater was drying up. It was hard to be sad or anxious on a bright, warm day like this. With the floods receding more and more every day, there was no longer any danger that ThunderClan would be driven out of their camp by rising water.

At the top of the ravine, Fireheart paused. “Okay, Brackenpaw,” he meowed. “Have a good sniff. What can you smell?”

Brackenpaw stood with his head erect, his eyes closed, and his jaws parted to drink in the breeze. “Mouse,” he mewed at last. “Rabbit, and blackbird, and…some other bird I don’t know.”

“That’s woodpecker,” Fireheart told him. “Anything else?”

Brackenpaw concentrated, and his eyes snapped open in alarm. “Fox!”

“Fresh?”

The apprentice sniffed again and then relaxed, looking a bit ashamed of himself. “No, stale. Two or three days old, I think.”

“Good, Brackenpaw. Now, you head that way, as far as the two old oaks, and I’ll go this way.” He watched Brackenpaw for a few moments as the apprentice moved slowly into the shadow of the trees, stopping every few paces to taste the air. A flutter of wings under a bush distracted Fireheart; turning his head he saw a thrush, flapping to keep its balance as it tugged a worm out of the soil.

Fireheart crouched down and crept toward it paw by paw. The thrush pulled the worm free and started to tuck in; Fireheart bunched his muscles for the pounce.

“Fireheart! Fireheart!”

Brackenpaw’s frantic meow split the silence. His paws crunched on dead leaves as he tore through the trees toward Fireheart. Though Fireheart hurled himself at the thrush it had been given too much warning. It flew up to a low branch, squawking in panic, while Fireheart’s paws thudded onto the empty ground.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Fireheart swung around angrily to face the apprentice. “I’d have caught that thrush, and now listen to it! Every bit of prey in the forest will—”

“Fireheart!” Brackenpaw gasped out, skidding to a halt in front of him. “They’re coming! I could smell them; then I saw them!”

“Smell who? Who’s coming?”

Brackenpaw’s eyes were round with fear. “ShadowClan and WindClan!” he meowed. “They’re coming to invade our camp!”