Fire And Ice

Graystripe’s fur had dried a little, but frozen droplets hung on his whiskers and tail.

Fireheart led the way through the gorse entrance. His heart sank when he saw Tigerclaw sitting in the clearing watching them.

The deputy fixed his sharp eyes on Fireheart. “No fresh-kill?” he growled. “I thought you were meant to be teaching these two how to hunt today. You look half-drowned, Graystripe. You must have fallen into a river to get that wet.” His nostrils flared and he drew himself up to his full height. “Don’t tell me you’ve been into RiverClan territory again!”

Chapter 12

Fireheart lifted his head, about to speak, but Cinderpaw beat him to it.

“It’s my fault, Tigerclaw.” She stared boldly up at the great tabby. “We were hunting on the frozen stream by the training hollow, on the bend by the deep pool. Even that bit was frozen. I slipped and Graystripe came to help me, but the ice wasn’t thick enough for him and it cracked and he fell into the water.” Tigerclaw looked into her clear, bright eyes as she added, “It really is deep there. Fireheart had to pull him out.”

Fireheart cringed, remembering how he had stood motionless with terror at the sight of Graystripe disappearing into the river.

Tigerclaw nodded and looked at Graystripe. “You’d better get yourself to Yellowfang before you freeze to death.” The ThunderClan deputy stood up and stalked away, and Fireheart breathed a sigh of relief.

Graystripe didn’t hesitate. The long run home hadn’t stopped his teeth from chattering. He bounded away to Yellowfang’s den. Brackenpaw glanced at Cinderpaw and padded off to his nest, his tail drooping with exhaustion.

Fireheart looked at Cinderpaw. “Aren’t you even a bit frightened by Tigerclaw?” he asked curiously.

“Why should I be?” replied Cinderpaw. “He’s a great warrior. I admire him.”

Of course, why shouldn’t she? Fireheart thought. “You lie very well,” he growled sternly, trying his best to act like a mentor.

“Well, I try not to,” mewed Cinderpaw. “I just thought the truth wouldn’t be very helpful here.”

Fireheart had to admit she had a point. He shook his head slowly. “Go and get warm.”

“Yes, Fireheart!” Cinderpaw dipped her head and charged after Brackenpaw.

Fireheart padded over to the warriors’ den. He was worried at how easily the story about Graystripe’s soaking had tumbled from Cinderpaw’s mouth. But he also believed she was a well-meaning and honest cat. He thought of Ravenpaw, another good cat. Had the story he’d told about Tigerclaw killing Redtail simply been just that—a story that tumbled from his mouth in the heat of the moment? Fireheart shook the thought away. Ravenpaw had been terrified when he spoke to Fireheart. He obviously believed his own story. Why else would he have been frightened enough to leave the Clan?

Fireheart chose a few pieces of fresh-kill and carried them over to the nettle clump. He settled himself beside it and began to gnaw thoughtfully on a mouse. The admiration in Cinderpaw’s voice when she had spoken of Tigerclaw worried him. It seemed as though he alone suspected there was more to the ThunderClan deputy than met the eye. Bluestar’s attitude toward Tigerclaw certainly hadn’t changed. She had been treating him with the same trust and respect that she had always shown him. With a flash of frustration, Fireheart ripped another mouthful from his meal.

A loud sneeze made him look up. Graystripe was heading toward him.

“How are you?” Fireheart asked as Graystripe arrived, smelling of one of Yellowfang’s herb concoctions.

Graystripe sat down heavily and coughed.

“I’ve saved you some food,” Fireheart meowed, pushing a plump thrush and a vole toward his friend.

“Yellowfang says I have to stay in camp. She says I have a chill,” Graystripe meowed thickly.

“I’m not surprised. What did she dose you with?”

“Feverfew and lavender.” Graystripe lay down and began to nibble at the thrush. “This’ll be enough for me,” he mumbled. “I’m not very hungry.”

Fireheart looked at his friend in amazement. That wasn’t something he had ever thought he’d hear Graystripe say. “You sure?” he asked. “There’s plenty here.”

Graystripe stared down at the thrush and didn’t reply.

“Are you sure?” Fireheart repeated.

“What?” Graystripe turned his faraway gaze on Fireheart. “Uh, yeah,” he meowed.

He must have a fever, Fireheart decided, shaking his head. Oh, well, at least he was still here, thanks to that RiverClan cat.

A few days later Fireheart woke to find the first fog of leaf-bare filling the den. When he crept outside, he could barely see the other side of the clearing. He heard pawsteps hurrying toward him, and Mousefur appeared out of the gloom.

“Tigerclaw wants to see you,” she meowed.

“Right, thanks,” answered Fireheart. Alarm shot through him. He’d slipped away to visit Princess yesterday. Had Tigerclaw noticed?

“What was that?” Graystripe’s voice wheezed behind him. He sat down beside Fireheart, sneezed, and yawned.