The Forgotten Warrior

“That’s very good,” Cinderheart soothed Mousewhisker, stroking his shoulder as he choked wretchedly. “You’ll feel better soon.”

A tail-length away Leafpool was comforting Cherrypaw; the young apprentice looked worn out and utterly miserable.

“Are you sure she’ll be okay?” Poppyfrost fretted, bending over her kit.

“She’ll be fine,” Leafpool assured her.

“Thank StarClan!” Daisy exclaimed.

As every cat relaxed, realizing that the crisis was over, Lionblaze studied Cinderheart more closely. She seemed to have changed her expression into something he didn’t recognize at all. Her color and shape and size were still the same, but her eyes were not the eyes of the cat he knew and loved.

Leaving Cherrypaw with her mother, Leafpool padded over to check on Mousewhisker.

“Have you been training Cinderheart?” Lionblaze whispered to her.

“No, not at all,” Leafpool whispered back, her eyes clouded with something unreadable.

“Then how does she know all this stuff?” Lionblaze demanded, raising his voice. “I don’t understand!”

“I don’t care,” Hazeltail meowed. “Just as long as she saves Mousewhisker’s life.”

Cinderheart looked up at Leafpool, a world of sadness in her gaze.

“You know, then?” Leafpool murmured.

Cinderheart nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Lionblaze heard paw steps behind him and turned to see Jayfeather striding across the clearing with Brightheart at his side. Both cats carried bunches of herbs in their jaws.

“What’s going on?” Jayfeather called, his voice muffled by his mouthful of leaves.

As briefly as he could, Lionblaze told Jayfeather how Mousewhisker and Cherrypaw had poisoned themselves with water hemlock. “Leafpool—”

“This is what comes from Firestar’s idea of teaching the Clan about herbs,” Jayfeather interrupted, rapidly checking Cherrypaw and then Mousewhisker. “If they hadn’t thought that they knew what to do, this would never have happened. They’ll be okay,” he added grudgingly. “Foxleap, Hazeltail, help them both into my den.”

“Cinderheart knew exactly what to do,” Leafpool mewed as the sick cats moved off shakily, leaning on Foxleap and Hazeltail.

Jayfeather’s head whipped around, his eyes wide with shock. “What?”

Cinderheart faced him steadily. “How could I stand by and do nothing, knowing what I know now?”

“What have you done?” Leafpool hissed at Jayfeather. “I thought we agreed she should be allowed to live in peace?”

“She deserved to know the truth,” Jayfeather snapped back at her. “And to know that StarClan chose a new destiny for her.”

Lionblaze felt the ground tilt under his paws. Cinderheart’s destiny? What are they talking about?

“I’m still here, you know,” Cinderheart pointed out, narrowing her eyes at Leafpool and Jayfeather.

“Then I’m sorry you had to find out,” Leafpool told her, glaring at Jayfeather. “I thought we had agreed to keep it from you.”

A flame of anger flared in Cinderheart’s blue eyes. “And let me live in ignorance of who I truly am? You had no right to decide that!”

“But this changes everything,” Leafpool mewed, her tail drooping. “And nothing was wrong before.”

“Everything was a lie before!” Cinderheart lifted her voice in a wail. “If I was truly given a second chance, StarClan should have kept those memories away. But I can’t forget now, I can’t stop memories pouring into my head.”

“Cinderheart, I—” Leafpool began.

Cinderheart’s fur bristled. “I know every path in the old forest!” she flashed back. “I know Snakerocks and Sunningrocks. I remember Gatherings at Fourtrees. I remember delivering kits when I was Yellowfang’s apprentice, but not being able to save their mother. Do you have any idea how that feels? I remember deceiving my Clan, when I was trying to save sick ShadowClan cats. I remember—” Her voice broke. “I remember everything.”

Leafpool rested her tail-tip on Cinderheart’s shoulder, and for a moment the gray she-cat didn’t move away.

“I never meant for you to feel like this,” Jayfeather whispered. “I just wanted you to know what StarClan did for you.”

“But I can’t help feeling like this,” Cinderheart retorted. “I can’t just forget about my former life, when I was Cinderpelt.”

As he listened Lionblaze had felt like a kit struggling in a flooding stream, with nothing solid to hold on to. Now it was as if his paws had slammed against the bottom, leaving him stunned.

Cinderheart used to be Cinderpelt? How is that possible?

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Cinderheart went on, her voice throbbing with sorrow. “All this time, have I been just the echo of a dead cat?”

“No.” Leafpool spoke gently, but her voice was full of conviction. “No, you are so much more than that.”

Cinderheart sprang away from her, whirling to face her, crouching as if she were about to pounce on prey. “I don’t believe you!” she hissed. Without giving Leafpool the chance to reply, she sprang forward and bounded across the clearing, disappearing into the gap in the barrier.

“I’ll go after her,” Lionblaze meowed.