Forest Of Secrets

Fireheart blinked at her. He would have liked to give the young queen a lick of gratitude, but he was afraid of getting a clawed ear in return. Mistyfoot seemed to have gotten over the worst of her hostility, but she wasn’t going to let him forget that they came from two different Clans.

“Thank you, Mistyfoot,” he meowed. “I won’t forget this. And if ever I can do anything for you—”

“Just go!” Mistyfoot hissed. As Fireheart slipped past her toward the gap in the bushes, she added with a purr of amusement, “And don’t forget the fox dung.”

Chapter 5

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Fireheart muttered as he pushed through the gorse tunnel into his own camp.

He had found some fresh fox dung in the forest, and rolled in it until he reeked. No cat would ever guess he had been into RiverClan territory now. Whether they would let him into the warriors’ den was another matter. At least he had managed to catch a squirrel on his way back, so he wasn’t returning empty-pawed.

As he emerged from the gorse tunnel, Fireheart saw Bluestar standing on top of the Highrock. He realized he had just missed hearing her call the Clan together, because other cats were appearing from their dens to gather below her.

Fireheart left his squirrel on the pile of fresh-kill and padded over to join them. Across the clearing, Brindleface’s kits tumbled out of the nursery, followed by Brindleface herself. Fireheart could easily pick out his sister’s son, Cloudkit, by his gleaming white fur. Princess, Fireheart’s sister who still lived in Twolegplace, had no wish to leave the comfortable life of a kittypet, but Fireheart’s tales of Clan life had captivated her, and she had given her eldest son to the Clan.

So far the Clan cats were finding it hard to accept another kittypet among them even though Brindleface treated him like one of her own kits. Fireheart knew from experience how much determination Cloudkit would need to make a place for himself.

As he drew closer, Fireheart heard the white kit complaining loudly to Brindleface. “Why can’t I be an apprentice? I’m nearly as big as that dumb ginger kit of Frostfur’s!”

Fireheart’s interest quickened. Bluestar must be about to perform the apprentice-naming ceremony for Frostfur’s two remaining kits. Their brother and sister, Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw, had been named apprentices a few moons ago, and Fireheart could guess that these two must be desperate for their own naming. He was glad that he had returned in time to witness it.

“Shh!” Brindleface whispered to Cloudkit, as she gathered her kits around her and found them a place to sit. “You can’t be an apprentice until you’re six moons old.”

“But I want to be an apprentice now!”

Fireheart left Brindleface trying to explain Clan customs to the insistent Cloudkit and went to sit near the front of the gathering, next to Sandstorm.

Her head whipped around in alarm as he took his place. “Fireheart! Where have you been? You smell like a fox that’s been dead for a moon!”

“Sorry,” Fireheart mumbled. “It was an accident.” He hated the stench as much as any cat, and he didn’t like having to lie to Sandstorm about how he came to smell like that.

“Well, stay away from me till it wears off!” Though Sandstorm’s words were firm, there was laughter in her eyes as she shifted a tail-length away from him.

“And clean yourself up before you come into the den,” growled a familiar voice. Fireheart turned to see Tigerclaw standing behind him. “I’m not going to sleep with that stink in my nose!”

Fireheart dipped his head in embarrassment as Tigerclaw stalked away, then looked up as Bluestar began to speak.

“We are gathered here to give two Clan kits their apprentice names.” She glanced down to where Frostfur was sitting proudly, with her tail curled neatly over her paws. The two kits sat one on each side of her, and as Bluestar spoke, the bigger of them, a ginger kit like his brother Brackenpaw, sprang impatiently to his paws.

“Yes, come forward, both of you,” Bluestar invited warmly.

The ginger kit dashed forward and skidded to a stop at the foot of the Highrock. His sister followed more sedately. She was white like her mother, except for ginger patches along her back, and a ginger tail.

Fireheart closed his eyes for a moment. Not long ago, he had been given Cinderpaw as his apprentice. He half wished that he could be mentor to one of these kits, but he knew that if Bluestar had chosen him for this honor, she would have already told him to expect it.

Perhaps she would never choose him again, he thought with a pang that chilled his heart, after he had failed Cinderpaw so badly.

“Mousefur,” meowed Bluestar, “you have told me that you are ready to take on an apprentice. You will be mentor to Thornpaw.”

Fireheart watched as Mousefur, a wiry, compact she-cat with brown fur, stepped forward and went to stand beside the ginger kit, who scampered up to meet her.