Fire And Ice

Brokenstar’s eyes were closed and bloody. Fireheart saw his sides heave once, and stop moving. He recognized from the deep stillness in the rogue warrior’s body that Brokenstar was losing a life.

Yellowfang’s claws were unsheathed and glistened red. Her face was twisted and her eyes glazed.

Suddenly Brokenstar gasped and began to breathe again. Fireheart waited for Yellowfang to lunge at him with another killing bite, but she hesitated. Brokenstar didn’t get up.

Fireheart ran to the medicine cat’s side. “Is this his last life? Why don’t you finish him off?” he urged. “He murdered his father, banished you from your Clan, and tried to kill you.”

“It’s not his last life,” she rasped, “and even if it were, I couldn’t kill him.”

“Why not? StarClan would honor you for it.” Fireheart could not believe her words. The name Brokenstar had always made this old she-cat bristle with rage.

Yellowfang dragged her gaze from Brokenstar and looked at Fireheart. Her eyes clouded with pain and grief as she murmured, “He is my son.”

Fireheart felt the ground lurch under his paws. “But medicine cats are forbidden from having kits,” he blurted out.

“I know,” answered Yellowfang. “I never intended to have kits. But then I fell in love with Raggedstar.” Her voice was thick with sorrow. Suddenly Fireheart thought back to the battle when Brokenstar was driven out of the ShadowClan camp. Just before he fled, the cruel leader had told Yellowfang that he had murdered his father. Yellowfang had been devastated, and now Fireheart understood why.

“There were three kits in my litter,” Yellowfang went on. “But only Brokenstar survived. I gave him to a ShadowClan queen to bring up as her own. I thought that losing two of my kits was punishment from StarClan for breaking the warrior code. But I was wrong. My punishment wasn’t that two of my kits died. It was that this one survived!” Yellowfang looked in disgust at Brokenstar’s bleeding body. “And now I cannot kill him. I must accept my fate, as StarClan wishes it.”

Yellowfang staggered, and Fireheart thought she was going to collapse. He pressed his body against her flank to support her and whispered, “Does he know you’re his mother?”

Yellowfang shook her head.

Brokenstar began to wail pitifully. “I can’t see!” Fireheart realized with horror that the rogue cat’s eyes had been scratched beyond repair.

Fireheart cautiously approached him. Brokenstar lay still. Fireheart poked him with a forepaw and Yellowfang’s son moaned again. “Don’t kill me,” he whined. Fireheart backed away, feeling a shudder of revulsion at the warrior’s fear.

Yellowfang took a deep breath. “I will see to him.” She walked over to her wounded son, grasped him by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him to the nest that Patchpelt had left.

Fireheart let her go. He wanted to check that Cinderpaw was all right. He caught sight of a dark shape moving inside the split rock where Yellowfang slept. “Cinderpaw?” he called.

Cinderpaw poked her head out.

“Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.

“Have the rogue cats gone?” she whispered.

“Yes, except Brokenstar. He’s badly injured. Yellowfang’s seeing to him.” He waited for Cinderpaw’s shocked reaction, but she just shook her head slowly and stared at the ground.

“Are you okay?” Fireheart repeated.

“I should have fought alongside you.” Cinderpaw’s voice was choked with shame.

“You would have been killed!”

“That’s what Dustpaw said. He told me to go and hide with the kits.” The small cat’s eyes were full of despair. “But I wouldn’t have minded being killed. What good am I like this? I’m just a burden on this Clan.”

Fireheart felt a thorn-sharp pang of pity. He searched for words to comfort her, but before he could speak, Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded from the bracken.

“Cinderpaw,” she called. “Fetch me some cobwebs, quickly!” Cinderpaw turned at once and disappeared inside the rock, returning a moment later with one paw wrapped in a swathe of cobwebs. As quickly as she could, she scrambled awkwardly over to Yellowfang and thrust the cobwebs inside the nest.

“Now get me some of that comfrey root,” ordered Yellowfang.

As Cinderpaw limped back to the split rock, Fireheart turned to leave. There was nothing more he could do here. He must find out how the rest of the Clan was.

Hardly any cat had moved in the camp clearing. Fireheart padded straight to Dustpaw and meowed, “Yellowfang is tending to Brokenstar’s wounds. Cinderpaw’s helping her.” He ignored Dustpaw’s gasp of disbelief. “Go and guard him.” Dustpaw ran to the tunnel and disappeared inside.

Fireheart went over to Graystripe. The gray warrior was still staring at Clawface’s body. “You saved my life,” Fireheart murmured. “Thank you.”

Graystripe lifted his gaze to Fireheart. “I would give my life for you,” he answered simply.

Feeling choked, Fireheart watched his friend turn and walk away. Perhaps their friendship was not over after all.