Forest Of Secrets

“I know.” Fireheart bowed his head respectfully. “But I’ve found out something new.”

Bluestar waited in silence. Fireheart couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “No cat killed Oakheart—not Redtail, not Tigerclaw,” he went on, nervously aware that it was too late now to change his mind. “Oakheart died when a rock collapsed on top of him.”

Bluestar frowned. “How do you know this?”

“I…I went to see Ravenpaw again,” Fireheart admitted. “After the last Gathering.” He was ready for anger as he made his confession, but the Clan leader remained calm.

“So that’s why you were late,” she observed.

“I had to find out the truth,” Fireheart meowed quickly. “And I—”

“Wait a moment,” Bluestar interrupted. “Ravenpaw told you at first that Redtail killed Oakheart. Is he changing his story now?”

“No, not at all,” Fireheart promised. “I misunderstood him. Redtail was partly responsible for Oakheart’s death, because he drove him under the overhanging rock that collapsed on top of him. But he didn’t mean to kill him. And that’s what you couldn’t believe,” he reminded Bluestar. “That Redtail would deliberately kill another cat. Besides…”

“Well?” Bluestar sounded as calm as ever.

“I went across the river and spoke to a RiverClan cat,” Fireheart confessed. “Just to be sure. She told me that it’s true: Oakheart died from the rockfall.” He looked at his paws, bracing himself for Bluestar’s fury that he had been trespassing on enemy territory, but when he looked up again, there was nothing in the leader’s eyes except for intense interest.

She gave him a slight nod, and Fireheart went on. “So we know for a fact that Tigerclaw was lying about how Oakheart died—he didn’t kill him himself, in revenge for Redtail. The rockfall killed him. Isn’t it possible that he is lying about Redtail’s death as well?”

As he spoke, Bluestar began to look troubled, narrowing her eyes so that only the faintest sliver of blue showed in the dim light of the den. She let out a long sigh. “Tigerclaw is a fine deputy,” she murmured. “And these are serious charges.”

“I know,” Fireheart agreed quietly. “But can’t you see, Bluestar, how dangerous he is?”

Bluestar sank her head onto her chest. She was silent for so long that Fireheart wondered if he should leave, but she had not dismissed him.

“There’s something else,” he ventured. “Something strange about two of the RiverClan warriors.”

Bluestar looked up at that; her ears flicked forward. For a heartbeat Fireheart hesitated to spread the rumors of a temperamental RiverClan elder, but his need to know the truth gave him the courage to go on. “Ravenpaw told me that in the Sunningrocks battle Oakheart stopped Redtail from attacking a warrior named Stonefur. Oakheart said that no ThunderClan cat should ever harm Stonefur. I…I had the chance to speak to one of the RiverClan elders. She told me that Oakheart brought Mistyfoot and Stonefur to her when they were tiny kits. It was leaf-bare, and she said that the kits would have died with no one to take care of them. Graypool—the elder—suckled them. She said that…that they had the scent of ThunderClan kits. Could that be true? Were kits ever stolen from our camp?”

For a few heartbeats he thought Bluestar had not heard him, she was so still. Then she rose to her paws and padded forward a couple of paces until she stood almost nose to nose with him. “And you listened to this nonsense?” she hissed.

“I just thought I should—”

“This isn’t what I expect from you, Fireheart,” Bluestar growled. Her eyes glittered like ice, and her hackles were raised. “To go into enemy territory and listen to idle gossip? To believe what a RiverClan cat tells you? You would do better to think about your own duties than to come here telling tales about Tigerclaw.” She studied him for a long moment. “Maybe Tigerclaw is right to doubt your loyalty.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Fireheart stammered. “But I thought Graypool was telling the truth.”

Bluestar let out a long breath. All the interest she had shown before had vanished, leaving her expression cold and remote. “Go,” she ordered. “Find yourself something useful to do—something that befits a warrior. And never—never—mention this to me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Bluestar.” Fireheart began backing out of the den. “But what about Tigerclaw? He—”

“Go!” Bluestar spat the command.

Fireheart’s paws scrabbled in the sand in his haste to obey. Once out of the den he turned and hurtled across the clearing, only coming to rest when he had put several fox-lengths between himself and Bluestar. He felt utterly bewildered. At first Bluestar had seemed prepared to listen to him, but as soon as he mentioned the stolen ThunderClan kits, she had refused to hear any more.

A sudden chill swept through Fireheart. What if Bluestar began to wonder how he had managed to speak with the RiverClan cats? What if she found out about Graystripe and Silverstream? And what about Tigerclaw? For a short time, Fireheart had let himself hope that he could make Bluestar understand how dangerous the deputy was.