Rising Storm

Fireheart winced. Were his feelings that easy to read? “I know I shouldn’t judge him. He’s just a kit. But when I saw him, it was as if Tigerclaw were looking at me. I…I couldn’t move.” Fireheart shook his head slowly, ashamed of his admission but glad of the chance to confide in his friend. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust him.”

“If you see Tigerclaw every time you look at him, it’s not surprising you feel like that,” mewed Cinderpelt gently. “But you must look beyond the color of his pelt and try to see the cat inside. Remember, he’s not just Tigerclaw’s kit. There’s some of Goldenflower in him too. And he will never know his father. It will be the Clan that raises him.” She added, “You of all cats should know that you can’t judge someone by the circumstances of their birth.”

Cinderpelt was right. Fireheart had never let his kittypet roots interfere with his loyalty to the Clan. “Has StarClan spoken to you about Bramblekit?” he asked, knowing that Cinderpelt and Yellowfang would have studied Silverpelt at the moment of his birth.

His heart lurched uncomfortably as the gray cat looked away and murmured, “StarClan doesn’t always share everything with me.”

Fireheart knew Cinderpelt well enough to know she was holding something back. “But they shared something with you, right?”

Cinderpelt gazed up at him, her blue eyes steady. “His destiny will be as important as that of any kit born to ThunderClan,” she mewed firmly.

Fireheart knew he wouldn’t be able to make Cinderpelt reveal what StarClan had told her if she didn’t want to. He decided to tell Cinderpelt about the other problem that was troubling him. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he confessed. “I have to decide who should be the mentors for Brindleface’s kits.”

“Isn’t that up to Bluestar?”

“She asked me to choose for her.”

Cinderpelt lifted her head in surprise. “Why are you looking so worried, then? You should be flattered.”

Flattered? Fireheart echoed silently, recalling the hostility and confusion in Bluestar’s eyes. He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not sure who to pick.”

“You must have some idea,” Cinderpelt prompted him.

“Not a clue.”

Cinderpelt frowned thoughtfully. “Well, how did you feel when I was named as your apprentice?”

Fireheart was caught off guard by the question. “Proud. And scared. And desperate to prove myself,” he replied slowly.

“Which one of the warriors do you think wants to prove himself most?” Cinderpelt mewed.

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. An image of a brown tabby flashed in his mind. “Dustpelt.” Cinderpelt nodded thoughtfully as he went on: “He must be dying to get his first apprentice. He was pretty close to Tigerclaw, so he’ll want to prove his loyalty to the Clan now that Tigerclaw’s been exiled. He’s a good warrior, and I think he’ll make a good mentor.” Even as he spoke, Fireheart realized he had a more personal motive for choosing Dustpelt. The tabby’s eyes had flashed enviously as Bluestar twice made Fireheart a mentor, first to Cinderpelt, then to Cloudpaw. Perhaps, Fireheart thought guiltily, giving Dustpelt an apprentice would soothe the warrior’s jealousy and make him easier to get along with.

“Well, then, that’s one chosen,” Cinderpelt mewed encouragingly.

Fireheart looked down into the medicine cat’s clear, wide eyes. She made it sound so simple.

“And what about the other?” asked Cinderpelt.

“The other what?” Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded from the fern tunnel, and the dark gray she-cat padded stiffly into the clearing. Fireheart turned to greet her. As usual, her long fur looked matted and dull, as if caring for the Clan left her no time for grooming, but her orange eyes gleamed, missing nothing.

“Bluestar’s asked Fireheart to choose the mentors for Brindleface’s kits,” Cinderpelt explained.

“Oh, has she?” Yellowfang’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who’ve you come up with?”

“We’ve already chosen Dustpelt?” Fireheart began.

Yellowfang interrupted him. “We’ve?” she rasped. “Who’s we?”

“Cinderpelt helped,” he admitted.

“I’m sure Bluestar will be pleased that a cat who’s barely begun her apprenticeship is making such important decisions for the Clan,” Yellowfang remarked. She turned to Cinderpelt. “Have you finished mixing that poultice?”

Cinderpelt opened her mouth, then shook her head before wordlessly padding back to the pile of herbs in the middle of the clearing.

Yellowfang snorted as she watched her apprentice limp away. “That cat hasn’t answered me back for days!” she complained to Fireheart. “There was a time when I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The sooner she gets back to normal, the better it’ll be for both of us!” The old medicine cat frowned, then turned back to Fireheart. “Now, where were we?”

“Trying to decide who would be the second mentor to Brindleface’s kits,” Fireheart answered heavily.

“Who doesn’t have an apprentice?” rasped Yellowfang.