Fire And Ice

“Is she okay?” Fireheart asked under his breath.

“Yes,” whispered Graystripe. “And thanks for letting her go.”

Fireheart blinked at him. “I’m glad she wasn’t hurt,” he meowed.

Graystripe held his gaze for a moment, then meowed, “Fireheart, you were right. The battle wasn’t easy. It felt like I was fighting Silverstream’s Clan mates, not enemy warriors.” He lowered his eyes, ashamed. “But I still can’t give her up.”

The gray warrior’s words filled Fireheart with foreboding, but he couldn’t help sympathizing with his friend. “This is something you have to work out by yourself,” he meowed. “It’s not my place to judge you.” Graystripe looked up as Fireheart went on. “Graystripe, whatever you decide to do, I will always be your friend.”

Graystripe stared at him, his eyes clouded with relief and gratitude. Then, without speaking, the two warriors lay down, side to side, in the unfamiliar clearing. For the first time in moons, their fur was pressed together in friendship. Above them, the snow-heavy gorse offered them a brief shelter from the storm that raged over their heads.