Forest Of Secrets

Fireheart watched the RiverClan she-cat stepping delicately across the ice toward the bank. She was certainly beautiful, he realized, with a finely shaped head and thick, sleek fur. No wonder Graystripe was captivated by her.

Graystripe rose to his paws, ready to call out to her, when two other cats emerged from the camp and ran to catch up with Silverstream. One of them was the smoky black warrior Blackclaw, recognizable from Gatherings by his long legs and lean body, and a smaller cat Fireheart guessed must have been Blackclaw’s apprentice.

“Hunting patrol,” Graystripe murmured.

All three cats began to climb the slope. Fireheart let out a hiss, half impatience, half fear. He had hoped they would be able to speak to Silverstream alone. How could they separate her from her companions? What if Blackclaw scented the intruders? After all, he wasn’t carrying a helpful mouthful of prey to block his scent glands.

Blackclaw took the lead with his apprentice, and Silverstream followed a tail-length or two behind. As the patrol reached the bushes, Silverstream paused, her ears pricked warily as if she had detected a familiar but unexpected scent. Graystripe let out a short, sharp hiss, and Silverstream’s ears swiveled toward the sound.

“Silverstream!” Graystripe mewed softly.

The she-cat flicked her ears, and Fireheart let out the breath he had been holding. She had heard.

“Blackclaw!” she called to the warrior ahead of her. “I’ll try for a mouse in the bushes here. Don’t wait for me.”

Fireheart heard an answering mew from Blackclaw. Moments later Silverstream slipped through the branches until she reached the space where the young ThunderClan warriors were crouching. She pressed herself against Graystripe, purring loudly, and the two cats rubbed their faces together with obvious delight.

“I thought you only wanted us to meet at Fourtrees,” Silverstream meowed when the two cats had finished greeting each other. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought Fireheart to see you,” Graystripe explained. “He needs to ask you something.”

Fireheart had not spoken to Silverstream since he had let her escape in the battle. He guessed she was remembering that, too, for she dipped her head graciously toward him, with no trace of the defensive hostility she had shown when he had tried to discourage her from seeing Graystripe at the start of their relationship. “Yes, Fireheart?”

“What do you know about the battle at the Sunningrocks, where Oakheart died?” Fireheart launched straight in. “Were you there?”

“No,” Silverstream replied. She looked thoughtful. “Is it very important?”

“Yes, it is. Could you ask some cat who was? I need—”

“I’ll do better than that,” Silverstream interrupted him. “I’ll bring Mistyfoot to talk to you herself.”

Fireheart exchanged a glance with Graystripe. Was that a good idea?

“It’s okay,” meowed Silverstream, as if she guessed what was worrying him. “Mistyfoot knows about me and Graystripe. She doesn’t like it, but she won’t give me away. She’ll come now if I ask her.”

Fireheart hesitated, then dipped his head in assent. “All right. Thanks.”

He had hardly finished speaking before Silverstream turned and slid out of the bushes again. Fireheart watched her bounding through the snow toward the camp.

“Isn’t she great?” Graystripe murmured.

Fireheart said nothing, but settled down to wait. He was getting more nervous with every moment that passed. If he and Graystripe stayed in RiverClan territory for much longer, some of the RiverClan cats were bound to find them. They would be lucky to escape with their fur intact. “Graystripe,” he began. “If Silverstream can’t—”

Just then he saw the silver-gray tabby crossing the ice from the camp again, with another cat behind her. They raced up the slope, and Silverstream led the way into the bushes. The cat she brought with her was a slender queen with thick gray fur and blue eyes. For a heartbeat, Fireheart thought she seemed familiar. He decided he must have seen her at a Gathering.

When the queen saw Fireheart and Graystripe she stopped dead. Her fur began to rise suspiciously and she flattened her ears against her head.

“Mistyfoot,” meowed Silverstream quietly, “these are—”

“ThunderClan cats!” hissed Mistyfoot. “What are they doing here? This is RiverClan territory!”

“Mistyfoot, listen…” Silverstream went over to her friend, and tried to nudge her toward Fireheart and Graystripe.

Mistyfoot stood her ground; Fireheart couldn’t help feeling daunted by the look of blank hostility in her eyes. Had he been stupid to think that RiverClan would help him?

“I kept your secret about him,” Mistyfoot reminded Silverstream, jerking her chin at Graystripe. “But I’m not going to keep quiet if you start bringing the whole of ThunderClan here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Silverstream retorted.

“It’s all right, Mistyfoot,” Fireheart put in quickly. “We haven’t taken any of your prey, and we’re not here to spy. We need to speak to a cat who fought in the battle at Sunningrocks, where Oakheart died.”