Forest Of Secrets

“She won’t forget—” he began, and broke off.

Bluestar was stumbling around the Highrock from her den. She looked old and weary as she sat down in front of the rock, making no attempt to climb it. “Cats of ThunderClan,” she rasped, barely loud enough to be heard over the anxious muttering. “Listen and I will appoint the new deputy.”

Every cat was already turning toward her, and the clearing fell chillingly silent.

“I say these words before StarClan, that the spirits of our ancestors may hear and approve my choice.” Bluestar paused again, staring down at her paws for so long that Fireheart wondered if she had forgotten what she was going to say. Perhaps she had not even decided yet who the new deputy should be.

One or two cats had begun to whisper uneasily, but as Bluestar raised her head again they stopped.

“The new deputy will be Fireheart,” she announced clearly. As soon as she had spoken she rose to her paws again and padded back around the rock on legs that seemed made of stone.

The whole Clan froze. Fireheart felt as though a thorn had pierced his heart. He was to be deputy? He wanted to call Bluestar back and tell her there must be some mistake. He was barely a warrior!

Then he heard Cloudpaw’s shrill voice raised gleefully. “I knew it! Fireheart’s the new deputy!”

Close by, Darkstripe snarled, “Oh, yes? Well, I’m not taking orders from a kittypet!”

A few of the cats padded over to Fireheart and congratulated him. Graystripe and Sandstorm were among the first, and Cinderpaw, purring enthusiastically and throwing herself at him to give his face a thorough licking.

But other cats, Fireheart noticed, slipped quietly away, and did not speak to him at all. It was clear that they were as startled by Bluestar’s choice as Fireheart was himself. Was this what Spottedleaf had meant in his dream, when she told him that StarClan was calling him? Calling him to new responsibilities within his Clan? “Do not be afraid,” she had told him.

Oh, Spottedleaf, Fireheart thought desperately, as fear and uncertainty flooded his mind. How can I not be afraid?

Chapter 30

“Well, Clan deputy,” Whitestorm meowed softly in his ear. “What would you like me to do now?”

Fireheart realized his offer was genuine, and he flashed the great white warrior a grateful glance. He knew Whitestorm could have expected to become deputy himself, and his support would be valuable to Fireheart in the days to come. “Yes…now…” he began, frantically trying to think what the most urgent priorities would be. With a jolt, he realized that he was trying to imagine what Tigerclaw would have done. “Food. We all need to eat. Cloudpaw, start taking fresh-kill to the elders. Get the other apprentices to help the queens in the nursery.” Cloudpaw shot off with a flick of his tail. “Mousefur, Darkstripe, find yourselves two or three warriors each and go out on a hunting patrol. Split the territory between you. We’ll need more fresh-kill right away. And keep a lookout for those rogues or Tigerclaw while you’re at it.”

Mousefur moved away with a calm nod, collecting Brackenfur and Willowpelt as she went. But Darkstripe glared at Fireheart for so long that Fireheart began to wonder what he would do if the dark warrior really refused to obey him. He met the pale blue gaze steadily, and at last Darkstripe turned away, meowing to Longtail and Dustpelt to follow him.

“All Tigerclaw’s sympathizers,” Whitestorm observed as he watched them go. “You’ll need to keep an eye on them.”

“Yes, I know,” Fireheart admitted. “But surely they’ve shown that they’re more loyal to the Clan than to Tigerclaw? I hope they’ll accept me if I don’t tread on their tails.”

Whitestorm gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Anything for me to do?” asked Graystripe.

“Yes.” Fireheart gave his friend’s ear a quick, friendly lick. “Go back to your nest and rest. You were badly wounded yesterday. I’ll bring you a piece of fresh-kill.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Fireheart.” Graystripe returned the lick and vanished into the den.

Fireheart padded over to the pile of fresh-kill, where he found Cinderpaw clawing a magpie out of the dwindling heap. “I’ll take this to Bluestar,” she offered. “I need to check her wound. And then I’ll take some prey for Yellowfang.”

“Good idea,” Fireheart meowed, beginning to feel more confident as his rapid orders seemed to be restoring things to normal. “Tell her if she needs any help to collect herbs, she can have Cloudpaw, once he’s seen to the elders.”

“Okay.” Cinderpaw chuckled. “You certainly know how to make your apprentices work, Fireheart.” She bit down into the magpie and dropped it at once with a retch of disgust. The flesh of the dead bird fell away from the bones to reveal a writhing mass of white maggots. A foul stench hit Fireheart and he winced.