Forest Of Secrets

Chapter 6

“What?” Fireheart was so astonished he could hardly speak. “Are you saying that Mistyfoot and Stonefur came from ThunderClan?”

“Yes.” Graypool gave her chest fur a couple of licks. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Fireheart was stunned. “Did Oakheart steal them?” he asked.

Graypool’s fur bristled, and she drew her lips back in a snarl. “Oakheart was a noble warrior. He would never stoop to stealing kits!”

“I’m sorry.” Alarmed, Fireheart crouched and flattened his ears. “I didn’t mean…It’s just so hard to believe!”

Graypool sniffed, and her fur gradually lay flat again. Fireheart was still struggling with what she had just told him. If Oakheart hadn’t stolen the kits, perhaps rogue cats had taken them from the ThunderClan camp—but why? And why abandon them so quickly, when the scent of their Clan was still on their fur?

“Then…if they were ThunderClan kits, why did you look after them?” he stammered. What Clan would willingly take in enemy kits, and in a season when prey was already scarce?

Graypool shrugged. “Because Oakheart asked me to. He may not have been deputy back then, but he was a fine young warrior. I’d recently given birth to kits of my own, but all except one died in the bitter cold. I had plenty of milk to spare, and the poor little scraps would never have lived to see the sunrise if some cat hadn’t cared for them. Their ThunderClan scent soon faded,” she went on. “And even if Oakheart hadn’t told the truth about where they came from, I respected him enough not to ask any more questions. Thanks to Oakheart, and to me, they grew into strong kits, and now they’re good warriors—a credit to their Clan.”

“Do Mistyfoot and Stonefur know all this?” Fireheart asked.

“Now listen to me,” rasped Graypool. “Mistyfoot and Stonefur know nothing, and if you tell them what I’ve just told you, I’ll rip your liver out and feed it to the crows.” She thrust her head forward and drew her lips back as she spoke, baring her teeth. In spite of her age, Fireheart flinched.

“They never doubted that I’m their real mother,” Graypool growled. “I like to think they even look a bit like me.”

As she spoke, Fireheart felt something stir in his mind, like the twitch of a fallen leaf that betrayed the mouse sheltering beneath it. He thought that what Graypool had just said should mean something to him, but when he tried to capture the thought it scuttled away.

“They have always been loyal to RiverClan,” Graypool insisted. “I don’t want that loyalty to be divided now. I’ve heard the gossip about you, Fireheart—I know you were once a kittypet—so you should understand more than any cat what it means to have a paw in two places.”

Fireheart knew he would never make any cat go through the uncertainties that he suffered himself about not fully belonging to his Clan. “I promise I’ll never tell them,” he meowed solemnly. “I swear it by StarClan.”

The old cat relaxed and stretched, her front paws extended and her rump in the air. “I accept your word, Fireheart,” she replied. “I don’t know if this has helped you at all. But it might explain why Oakheart would never let a ThunderClan cat harm Mistyfoot or Stonefur. Even if he claimed to know nothing about where they came from, he would have smelled the ThunderClan scent on them as clearly as I did. As far as they’re concerned, they are loyal only to RiverClan, but it would seem that Oakheart’s loyalties were divided on their behalf.”

“I’m very grateful to you,” Fireheart purred, trying to sound as respectful as he could. “I don’t know what this means in relation to what I have to find out, but I really think it’s important, for both our Clans.”

“That’s as may be,” mewed Graypool. She frowned. “But now that I’ve told you everything, you must leave our territory.”

“Of course,” Fireheart meowed. “You won’t even know I’ve been here. And Graypool…” He paused before thrusting his way out of the bush and held her pale yellow gaze for a moment. “Thank you.”

Fireheart’s mind was spinning as he returned to the camp. Mistyfoot and Stonefur had ThunderClan blood! But they belonged entirely to RiverClan now, with no idea of their divided heritage. Blood loyalty and Clan loyalty were not always the same, Fireheart reflected. His own kittypet roots did not make his commitment to ThunderClan any less strong.

And perhaps now that Mistyfoot had confirmed how Oakheart had died, Bluestar would be willing to accept that Tigerclaw had killed Redtail. Fireheart decided to ask her about Graypool’s latest revelation too; Bluestar might be able to tell him if a pair of kits had ever been stolen from the ThunderClan camp.

When he reached the clearing, Fireheart made straight for the Highrock. As he approached Bluestar’s den, he heard two cats meowing together, and picked up Tigerclaw’s scent along with Bluestar’s. Quickly he pressed himself against the rock, hoping to stay out of sight, as the deputy shouldered his way out past the curtain of lichen that screened the mouth of the den.

“I’ll try a hunting patrol toward the Snakerocks,” the dark tabby called over his shoulder. “No cat has hunted there for a few days.”

“Good idea,” agreed Bluestar, following him out. “Prey is still scarce. May StarClan grant the thaw comes soon.”

Tigerclaw grunted agreement and loped off toward the warriors’ den, not noticing Fireheart where he crouched by the rock.

When he had gone, Fireheart padded up to the mouth of the den. “Bluestar,” he called, as the Clan leader turned to go back inside. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“Very well,” Bluestar meowed calmly. “Come in.”

Fireheart followed her into the den. The curtain of lichen swung back into place, cutting off the bright snow-light. In the dim interior, Bluestar sat facing him. “What is it?” she asked.

Fireheart took a deep breath. “You remember the story that Ravenpaw told, that Redtail killed Oakheart at the battle of the Sunningrocks?”

Bluestar stiffened. “Fireheart, that is over,” she growled. “I told you before, I have reasons enough to be satisfied that this isn’t true.”

“I know.” Fireheart bowed his head respectfully. “But I’ve found out something new.”

Bluestar waited in silence. Fireheart couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “No cat killed Oakheart—not Redtail, not Tigerclaw,” he went on, nervously aware that it was too late now to change his mind. “Oakheart died when a rock collapsed on top of him.”

Bluestar frowned. “How do you know this?”

“I…I went to see Ravenpaw again,” Fireheart admitted. “After the last Gathering.” He was ready for anger as he made his confession, but the Clan leader remained calm.

“So that’s why you were late,” she observed.

“I had to find out the truth,” Fireheart meowed quickly. “And I—”

“Wait a moment,” Bluestar interrupted. “Ravenpaw told you at first that Redtail killed Oakheart. Is he changing his story now?”

“No, not at all,” Fireheart promised. “I misunderstood him. Redtail was partly responsible for Oakheart’s death, because he drove him under the overhanging rock that collapsed on top of him. But he didn’t mean to kill him. And that’s what you couldn’t believe,” he reminded Bluestar. “That Redtail would deliberately kill another cat. Besides…”

“Well?” Bluestar sounded as calm as ever.

“I went across the river and spoke to a RiverClan cat,” Fireheart confessed. “Just to be sure. She told me that it’s true: Oakheart died from the rockfall.” He looked at his paws, bracing himself for Bluestar’s fury that he had been trespassing on enemy territory, but when he looked up again, there was nothing in the leader’s eyes except for intense interest.

She gave him a slight nod, and Fireheart went on. “So we know for a fact that Tigerclaw was lying about how Oakheart died—he didn’t kill him himself, in revenge for Redtail. The rockfall killed him. Isn’t it possible that he is lying about Redtail’s death as well?”

As he spoke, Bluestar began to look troubled, narrowing her eyes so that only the faintest sliver of blue showed in the dim light of the den. She let out a long sigh. “Tigerclaw is a fine deputy,” she murmured. “And these are serious charges.”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed quietly. “But can’t you see, Bluestar, how dangerous he is?”

Bluestar sank her head onto her chest. She was silent for so long that Fireheart wondered if he should leave, but she had not dismissed him.

“There’s something else,” he ventured. “Something strange about two of the RiverClan warriors.”

Bluestar looked up at that; her ears flicked forward. For a heartbeat Fireheart hesitated to spread the rumors of a temperamental RiverClan elder, but his need to know the truth gave him the courage to go on. “Ravenpaw told me that in the Sunningrocks battle Oakheart stopped Redtail from attacking a warrior named Stonefur. Oakheart said that no ThunderClan cat should ever harm Stonefur. I…I had the chance to speak to one of the RiverClan elders. She told me that Oakheart brought Mistyfoot and Stonefur to her when they were tiny kits. It was leaf-bare, and she said that the kits would have died with no one to take care of them. Graypool—the elder—suckled them. She said that…that they had the scent of ThunderClan kits. Could that be true? Were kits ever stolen from our camp?”

For a few heartbeats he thought Bluestar had not heard him, she was so still. Then she rose to her paws and padded forward a couple of paces until she stood almost nose to nose with him. “And you listened to this nonsense?” she hissed.

“I just thought I should—”

“This isn’t what I expect from you, Fireheart,” Bluestar growled. Her eyes glittered like ice, and her hackles were raised. “To go into enemy territory and listen to idle gossip? To believe what a RiverClan cat tells you? You would do better to think about your own duties than to come here telling tales about Tigerclaw.” She studied him for a long moment. “Maybe Tigerclaw is right to doubt your loyalty.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Fireheart stammered. “But I thought Graypool was telling the truth.”

Bluestar let out a long breath. All the interest she had shown before had vanished, leaving her expression cold and remote. “Go,” she ordered. “Find yourself something useful to do—something that befits a warrior. And never—never—mention this to me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Bluestar.” Fireheart began backing out of the den. “But what about Tigerclaw? He—”

“Go!” Bluestar spat the command.

Fireheart’s paws scrabbled in the sand in his haste to obey. Once out of the den he turned and hurtled across the clearing, only coming to rest when he had put several fox-lengths between himself and Bluestar. He felt utterly bewildered. At first Bluestar had seemed prepared to listen to him, but as soon as he mentioned the stolen ThunderClan kits, she had refused to hear any more.

A sudden chill swept through Fireheart. What if Bluestar began to wonder how he had managed to speak with the RiverClan cats? What if she found out about Graystripe and Silverstream? And what about Tigerclaw? For a short time, Fireheart had let himself hope that he could make Bluestar understand how dangerous the deputy was.

Thistles and thorns, he thought. Now she won’t hear another word against Tigerclaw. I blew it!