Traded

by Wisecrack Idiots

AU. What would have happened if Bluestar had rejected accepting Fireheart's nephew, Cloudkit, into ThunderClan? What if StarClan had made it so? A hero becomes a murderer; his best friend is a traitor; their kin are walking a path spun with lies and ominous danger; and a dark future looms on the horizon, a danger ready to rip the Clans apart.

1. The Longest Prologue: PT 1

The Longest Prologue

Marked by birth,

They're going to make him take me back, thought Fireheart. His breath began to come in shallow gasps. Darker thoughts pushed their way into Fireheart's mind. What if Bluestar asks Tigerclaw to abandon him in the forest? He'll never survive. Oh, StarClan, what am I going to say to Princess?

As every last cat settled itself at the Highrock's base, Bluestar's voice—a calm, chilling menace—broke the inquiring silence. "Cats of ThunderClan," she meowed. "As you all know, Fireheart brought us his sister's firstborn with the hopes of us promising it warrior life. Tonight you all spoke; you all agreed that there was trouble with two outsiders in the Clan, let alone just Fireheart."

The frail hope that had settled itself in Fireheart's chest was quickly subdued by a wave of revulsion. For a moment he could do nothing but gape stupidly. His heart plummeted, as if the ground he had been sitting on had vanished beneath him. No...

Over his growing doubts and horror Bluestar spoke, the silence thick among every cat, confirming the worst fears his imagination could produce: "Therefore"— Fireheart thought he had seen an unmasked emotion swim in her eyes before she plowed on coldly —"this has been overseen as a punishment. He shall be taken in the forest. StarClan will decide his fate."

A savage yowling of triumph rose in chant from the crowd. Through the gaps of faces, however, Fireheart saw some differences: Graystripe's yellow eyes were wide, and Sandpaw looked slightly sick.

"Leave him for the foxes and crows?" Darkstripe screeched. "We should kill him now!"

On the dark tabby's other side an angry hiss came from one of the queens. "You would dare murder a kit in cold blood?"

Her statement went unnoticed as many warriors raised their voices in agreement. Bluestar silenced them with a quelling look. The loathing the ginger tomcat felt for Tigerclaw reached a braking point as the brown tabby nodded, looking deeply amused by the Clan's savagery, which goaded Fireheart into speaking.

"Why?" Fireheart called out angrily, no longer able to keep silent. He sprang to his paws. Vindicate fury, pure as lightning raced down his limbs, lending him the power of speech. "What's he ever done to you? We need warriors! Brindleface has lost a kit to sickness already"— behind him Brindleface let out a mournful wail —"and my own apprentice might never become a warrior!"

"She will not, as you know well, Fireheart," the ThunderClan leader meowed. Her blue eyes were chips of ice. "But there is always the promise of kits in newleaf. Your status has been damaged, however—as have ours—by adopting you into ThunderClan and coming here tonight with the kittypet. I've made allowances for you, my apprentice, my warrior. You have no idea how fortunate you are to have been allowed to share our territory, to be a warrior—though even now, I question this decision..."

"What? No!" Terror crashed down on Fireheart. He had to dig his unsheathed claws into the ground to keep himself upright. Beside Bluestar, Tigerclaw seemed to have given up on hiding his triumph; his lip curled into a baleful sneer as he leered tauntingly at the kittypet-born warrior.

Why?

Numb with nothingness, Fireheart barely realized that Bluestar had continued in the same flat and quiet voice: "The will of this Clan was not only the supportive voice in my decision to refuse your kin. StarClan has spoken, and we must obey."

With bated breath the cats stared raptly up at their leader, who stood, looking exhausted. This sudden turn of events seemed to be sapping all of her energy just as greencough had. The tension was only broken when One-eye called from the back row. "There has been a sign?"

Bluestar waved her tail, beckoning to some unknown presence. "Yellowfang," she called, "if you will."

Fireheart had not seen the medicine cat leave her den. Yellowfang rarely abandoned her patient's side these days, caring consistently for his apprentice day and night. Now, however, with her head bowed Fireheart saw the gray she-cat shuffle across the clearing. She approached the foot of the boulder and dropped something he could not see. Many cats craned their necks to catch a glimpse of this mysterious object. Nonplused, he shouldered Longtail out of the way to stare down at Yellowfang's bundle: a tuft of white fur, singed a smoky gray-brown as if burned.

Fireheart stared up challenging at the blue-gray she-cat. "How do we know it isn't Whitestorm's fur?"

"Mine?" Whitestorm's neck fur bristled indignantly as he yowled, "I never took part in such conspiracy!"

"Look," Brackenpaw whispered; his eyes were as large as full moons. "It's still kitten-soft..."

"Brindleface," Bluestar's voice rang out over the outpour of concerned meows, "you've been with the kit since Frostfur told me he was left in your care. No one has been near the nursery, have they?"

A very pale-faced Brindleface shook her head slowly, her eyes wide and whiskers trembling.

"Yellowfang," demanded Tigerclaw impatiently, "you are sure this a sign from StarClan?"

"Oh, yes," Yellowfang meowed dryly, her head bowed in defeat. "Old as I may be, I can still recognize a sign from my warrior ancestors."

Fireheart trembled. He stared from Runningwind, who merely shook his head, to a stony-faced Swiftpaw. Was everyone going to overrule him?

He glared up at the pale gray sky, layered with clouds that would soon befall snow upon the camp. Did StarClan really send such a powerful sign? He had always thought of the glittering pricks of starlight as a comforting presence. Now, as he stared unseeing up at a milky sky, bile rose in his throat. He wanted his ancestors to stare down at him, so that they could see the anger that was screwing up his face with torture. Spottedleaf! he wailed. Please, no, you can't rob me of my second apprentice! But the beloved medicine cat who had perished so moons ago made no sign to overrule her ancestors', or Bluestar's, decision.

He can't die, Fireheart repeated to himself, he can't, he can't . . . Had StarClan really sent that sign? His green-eyed gaze traveled to Yellowfang, who turned her flattened, unkempt face away from him.

Determined not to show fear, he swallowed and addressed his leader once more. "So are you telling me you'd be willing to sacrifice an innocent kit for the welfare of this Clan?"

Bluestar's eyes, momentarily narrowed and glassed over, snapped open. Neck fur bristling, she yowled, "You do not know sacrifice, Fireheart. There are more important things than the protection of one single cat, compared to a whole Clanful. If such tasks measured next the needs of ThunderClan, then yes, I would. If you can question such a thing, Fireheart, then you may as well take your nephew and get out of my sight!" The last words she spat out.

Fireheart flinched as if Bluestar had raked him with her own claws. He had never seen her possessed by such anger. Her fur stood on end, doubling her size, and her spine was arched with unmistakable wrath. Why had that question riled her up so much? She had never had to bear listening to another cat condemn her own kin to death. And he could never leave ThunderClan... Where would he go?

He was barely aware of Sandpaw pressing her flank against his side for support, or Dustpaw's sharp intake of breath. He stared up imploringly at Bluestar, who shook her head weakly; all signs of powerful energy had vanished from her, leaving the she-cat looking older than ever. "You will take the kittypet to the Sunningrocks and come back directly, Fireheart. Snowfall seems close, and we need to build up a cache of fresh-kill. The prey in the pile will be crow-food in a few days' time. Tigerclaw, see to the patrols."

The dark-coated deputy bowed his head. "Yes, Bluestar," he meowed silkily, his amber eyes glittering with suppressed glee. Fireheart stood up shakily and shook off the sand-colored apprentice. Sandpaw gave a startled squeak but didn't protest. Many of his denmates drew back as he padded toward the nursery, closely followed by Brindleface and Frostfur. Both queens looked highly distressed.

It's Tigerclaw's fault, Fireheart thought savagely. He did it. He planted the burnt fur in Yellowfang's den. He persuaded Bluestar to say no. Bluestar would have never have been so cruel as to sacrifice a kit for ThunderClan's well-being unless StarClan said so.

But how could Tigerclaw have the power to singe fur? another voice protested in a resigned sort of way. Where had it come from? There weren't any other white cats in ThunderClan, apart from Frostfur and Swiftpaw, and they had both been at the meeting.

Before he knew it he found himself in front of Brindleface's mossy nest. Her surviving kits, both pale gray with darker flecks, made the tiny form of his sister's son look out of place with his fluffy white pelt next to the forest-born kits' fur. All three were tucked in sleeping bundles, the tiny kit finally well-fed and warm. How could he take him away from such a life? The life of a warrior? Could he really condemn his sister's son to a struggle against the forest's wrath overnight, after all that she had done for him? All that she had given him? Fireheart wanted to wail aloud his grief, to slash his claws over Tigerclaw's battle-scarred muzzle, to challenge the ancestors he had come to believe in and love...

More thoughts clambered over themselves in a confused jumble in his head. Meanwhile Brindleface had curled up around the kits and was licking the white kitten on top of his head.

"Be brave, tiny warrior," she murmured in a choked voice that brought Fireheart back to the present.

"Can't you do anything?" he begged Frostfur, who shook her snowy head.

"I don't understand it either," meowed Frostfur slowly. "But Yellowfang is renowned for her interpreting skills as she is for her healing. There can be no mistake."

Indignance made Fireheart's hackles rise. "So we simply have to bow to this cruelty?"

Frostfur barred her teeth and rounded on him. "What else can we do?" she spat. "The best you can try to do besides snap at me," she hissed in a lower, warier voice, "is to take him far away from here. He'll be better off in the forest then growing up in ThunderClan, when we are sickened, weakened from empty bellies and currently at a state of open warfare against the other Clans. Bluestar must have seen this and decided it was best. Safety matters in these dark times."

Fireheart unsheathed his claws and growled in a louder voice, "You said so yourself, Yellowfang is one of the greatest medicine cats this forest has ever seen. He could have survived." He shares my blood. "Then you agree with Bluestar?"

"Quiet, please!" meowed Brindleface. The tabby queen gave one of her kits a nudge with her muzzle. "This is a nursery. I expect better of warriors than to squabble like kits."

"But it's about a kit, isn't it?" Fireheart meowed sadly, reluctantly sheathing his claws. "How could she say such a thing?"

Frostfur's eyes clouded with pain. "I don't—it isn't that simply..." The white-furred cat sighed and pawed the ground. "I don't agree with my leader," she meowed, "but Bluestar is a great she-cat. If she feels it best for the Clan, and with all so many recent pressures, what else can she do? She just got over sickness... You must try and see it from her point of view, Fireheart. The word of a Clan leader is law."

"She could have said yes and kept him!" meowed Fireheart coldly. Grief racked his insides like a storm. Could Bluestar really be so ambitious as to look away from a kit that could one day be a warrior the Clan could be proud of, Clanborn or not? Or was she right to believe that the other Clans might attack, with tension already at exploding point? "How can all of you be content to just sit there and let her kill him?"

Frostfur snapped. "Instead of trying to bite off my head, why not use yours?" she said. "Think, you mouse-brained fool!" Fireheart was cowed; he had rarely seen the gentle queen so prickly. "If we invite another kittypet into the Clan it could provoke the other Clans to attack. Listen!" she urged him, as Fireheart opened his mouth to retort; "She has no other choice. All the cats seem firm to chase out your kin. We're all desperate, StarClan approved of Tigerclaw's words—will you be quiet! We need food, and must devote our time to providing for the Clan now. Your kin could even be better off with greencough running rampant. Mousefur and Swiftpaw are both getting coughs; Graystripe only just got over his chill from his douse in the river. And you made this decision without thinking, without the leader or deputy's consent."

Fireheart snorted. Tigerclaw would sooner adopt Fireheart as a son before he would let his nephew join ThunderClan. The complete hopelessness of it all sank in, lapping hungrily at his soul. He wouldn't...he couldn't do it...

"Then I'll take him away," Fireheart decided in and instant, the anger he had been struggling to control now inflaming him. "I won't let Tigerclaw kill him!"

Before either queen could protest Fireheart snatched up the kit by his scruff; he let out a wail as he bumped him over the den floor, but he didn't care. Brambles tore at his pelt as he pelted out of the nursery and across the camp. Everything looked restored; cats were either sharing tongues or fresh-kill in groups, and Willowpelt was about to lead the evening patrol. Their prejudice scared him as much as it repulsed him. He had though he could challenge their feelings on his own birth origins, but after tonight, one word from their ancestors and their hostility and indifference was as strong as when he had first joined. Fireheart ran past the patrol, ignoring Longtail's jibe that followed after his hindquarter's through the gorse tunnel.

Blinding whiteness greeted him as he plunged into the snow-cropped forest. Tree branches, now glistening with frost, glittered like moonstone. The thick layers of snow rose to his legs and muffled his steps as he plunged through the drift. Instinctively his paws carried him toward the Sunningrocks, but not on Bluestar's orders. Anywhere to get away from the camp seemed satisfactory enough.

Blind panic made Fireheart dizzy as the frost bit into his fur. The kit's tail and hind paws dragged in the snow; he let out an occasional wail that Fireheart was sure would send out any nocturnal predators into their midst.

"Shhh! Please, can't you be quiet?" he begged softly, circling in the roots of an oak tree. With his ginger tail he cleared away the slush to allow his nephew some rest. Circling around his tiny body, he curled his tail over him and murmured a few comforting mews. What good would that do? he thought dully, licking him behind the ears as he had seen queens do. Icy winds bit into his skin like ticks. His kittypet kin was now mewling nonstop, let out hungry whimpers that neither the howling wind or echoing silence of the forest could mute.

Despair flooded through his chest. The sky was darkening; Tigerclaw would probably be prowling through the forest in their direction soon, checking if Fireheart would keep to his words and abandon the kit. He could almost see Tigerclaw's merciless sneer as the great tabby tom parted the undergrowth with his broad shoulders, prowling forward with his claws unsheathed, maybe about to do the unthinkable and silence the kit himself. Guilt hadn't caught up with Tigerclaw's conscience yet, so why should killing a kit matter to the great tabby after Redtail's death and Cinderpaw's accident?

Twigs crackled. The crunching of snow underpaw drew Fireheart back to his senses. Quickly Fireheart sprang to his feet and sank his claws into the snow. Eyes narrowed, he gazed into the shadowy figures of bare trees and dead ferns, listening intently. It wasn't just his imagination now. He had heard something. He sought apart from the darkness of night the glint of amber eyes, or perhaps the heavy footfalls of a massive tomcat, a swish of tabby fur behind a fern clump...

From a gap in the yew bushes that lined the edge of the trees a familiar, tentative voice spoke. "Fireheart?"

His heart racing, the warrior could barely believe his eyes as Graystripe pushed his way out of the undergrowth. Snowflakes clung to his long pelt, making him look like a cat made of ice. Shaking it off impatiently, he turned to Fireheart with an awkward grimace.

"Cold out, huh?" the gray warrior mewed, settling into a comfortable crouch a tail-length away.

Fireheart's paws prickled with mistrust. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

Anger wiped away the pity in Graystripe's yellow gaze. "Coming to find you!" he hissed. He glanced quickly at the kit and meowed, "Take your kin and follow me. Willowpelt is taking the evening patrol this way soon, and Tigerclaw's in it."

When Fireheart didn't respond Graystripe hissed quietly, "Move!" and shoved him with his head. Unsteadily he rose to his legs and scooped up the tiny kitten. His kittypet kin let out another pathetical mewl, masked by oncoming gusts that rained down sleet. Together they plowed away from the RiverClan border, occasionally checking the air for the scent of any of their own warriors. Fireheart allowed Graystripe to lead the way, as he had no idea where to go. The stream that ran beyond the rise of the sandy hollow had frozen over, the flame-coated warrior noted, as he and Graystripe crossed the icy surface in a single leap.

They put the Owl Tree behind them a good distance as the wood thinned. The distant groans from the nearbye Thunderpath had vanished. Monsters, it transpired, hated getting cold as much as Clan cats did. Fireheart stopped gratefully when Fourtrees came into view at the lip of the slope, only to have his hopes plummet when his friend meowed, "We're not resting yet."

His cracked pads ached even more at the prospect of walking. He reluctantly crawled down the slope like a many-legged spider, slipping on ice as they reached the bottom. "Where are we going?"

"Ravenpaw and Barley's."

"Why there?" Fireheart asked curiously as they climbed the WindClan side of the hollow.

Graystripe's face darkened as he meowed, "It was the only friendly place I could think of right now. Here, let me take him for you."

"Oh. Right, thanks," puffed Fireheart, as he missed his footing and slipped back a few inches. He dug his claws into the snow to steady himself before passing his wet bundle to Graystripe. The gray warrior accepted the kit without another word and disappeared into the undergrowth. Forest changed into moorland. The roar of the gorge still rang in the silent valley. They were soon in WindClan's heartlands, passing the abandoned badger sett they had once sheltered in on their mission to find WindClan. It seemed like ages ago after everything that had happened recently. He and Graystripe had still been friends then too, facing the dangerous task together. This thought didn't cheer him up.

Another thought crossed the orange tom's mind. "Won't WindClan attack us or think we're stealing one of their kits if they see us?" The idea of starting a war between already peaceful Clans, on top of the whole ordeal they were currently facing, didn't seem very appealing to him.

As if reading his mind, Graystripe replied through a mouthful of fur, "It won't come to that. WindClan are our friends."

"For now." A prickle of annoyance spiked Fireheart's fur. "We're rivals. That's what the warrior code says. It also tells us to question enemy cats on our territory no matter what." Though you don't care about that, do you, Graystripe? he added silently, slightly ashamed of himself for having to think such a thing.

Graystripe stopped, and Fireheart bumped into him from behind. The large gray tomcat swung his head around and snarled. "Keep Silverstream out of this."

"Why can't you see how much trouble your relationship is causing?" challenged Fireheart, ignoring the sting of the hail buffeting his face.

His friend's yellow eyes fogged over with pain. "How can our love do any harm?" he whispered hoarsely, reminding Fireheart irresistibly of Silverstream.

"Tensions are really high right now!" Fireheart gasped. He raised his voice over the howl of the wind and meowed, "It goes against the warrior code when you sneak across the border to meet with her! Did you also forget who her father is?"

"Crookedstar," grunted Graystripe indifferently.

"Exactly." Some satisfaction that his friend knew that simplified as much as it complicated their situation. "How do you think he'll feel when he finds out his own daughter is betraying him for a tom from ThunderClan?"

"He'll never find out," Graystripe meowed promptly, though his confidence sounded fading, replaced by anger. "Silverstream won't let that happen. She knows when the patrols are sent out, as well as hunting parties."

"Did you ever think," snapped Fireheart, "that your scent would be a dead giveaway if you keep meeting in the same place?"

"Fine, fine!" Graystripe retorted busily. "We'll meet at Fourtrees! Are you happy?"

"No," Fireheart mewed quickly, ducking his head to avoid a large brush of thorns.

"You've never been in love, Fireheart!" Graystripe grizzled. "Who are you to say what is and isn't worth dying for?"

"I didn't—oh, this is useless!" Fireheart yowled over the oncoming snow now raining from the sky. "I can't hear my own thoughts in this! Under here, it'll disguise our scents as well."

He motioned to a large patch of heather that curved inward, leaving a sheltered space away from the surrounding sea of vast snowfall. Graystripe hesitated, then reluctantly turned and followed Fireheart into the shelter of the dead plants. With a busied sigh he turned on the spot, clearing a spot where he tucked the tiny kit into the curve of his stomach. Mewling, the white kit pressed into Graystripe's thick, abundant gray fur and shivered.

Anxiety clutched at Fireheart's stomach. He lowered his head and sniffed his kin, lifting his head to Graystripe. "Will he be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," meowed Graystripe, not taking his round eyes off of the tiny kit. Emotion swam within his eyes as he turned his head up to Fireheart. He was trembling. "Fireheart," Graystripe meowed uncertainly, looking around, as if trying to steal himself time or find words that could describe the fear that was making his whiskers tremble.

Alarm coursed through Fireheart, sweeping away all his earlier difficulties with the gray warrior. "What is it?"

The fatherly affection Graystripe had betrayed for Fireheart's nephew returned as he whispered, "Silverstream is going to have kits."

The bottom of Fireheart's jaw dropped open in amazement. For a moment, he could only gape stupidly at his best friend. He was starting to feel that after tonight, nothing would ever shock him again. Then he swallowed and resumed with the wild thoughts flashing through his head: "Are you insane? Do you realize how badly this treachery mocks the warrior code?"

Graystripe, who had been watching Fireheart hopefully, returned his puzzled stare. "Why does it matter? It's not as if cats will die just because Silverstream is giving RiverClan a reason to be proud."

Exasperation made the ginger tomcat narrow his eyes. "Think!" he burst out, pacing back and forth. "Cats could die if they ever got wind of who their father is. Wars could spawn off of such knowledge, over who has claim to the kits. They'll never know you're your father." He stopped and turned pointedly to look at the gray tomcat, who flinched as Fireheart gritted his teeth. "Why, Graystripe? Of all the she-cats, why her? Your kits aren't the only ones in danger; Tigerclaw would make sure that you would be sent into exile, as he made sure of wi-with my kin just now."

Fireheart hesitated, not adding the words, Or he'll kill you.

Graystripe bristled. "I know you don't really mean that," he scoffed, turning his nose away. "She has as much to risk as I do. And you respect her, I know you do." With a steadying breath he plowed on. "They'll never know, we've made it this far, and I'm sure it's happened before. Otherwise we'd know about the failed cases of other less fortunate star-cross lovers, and wouldn't know about the successful warriors."

"They probably aren't heard of," Fireheart meowed impatiently, "because their Clans were too ashamed of them to ever mention their names again! I'm not saying this to discredit you," he snapped, as Graystripe opened his mouth, "but I'm saying this because I don't want to loose...to loose my friend." He hesitated. Their fight from the previous day still echoed sharply within his mind. His injured leg stung were teeth marks were freshly encrusted with dried blood. "We're still friends, aren't we?"

Graystripe seemed to consider him for a moment. All their recent bitter disagreements seemed to flow freely in the open, all their difficulties and feelings crashing into the same shared universe. All that remained was the clean, cut answer. At long last Graystripe stated much more calmly, "Of course you are. I know you care about me, Fireheart, but I'm not a kit anymore. I can look after myself."

"I never said you couldn't," meowed Fireheart, relieved. "But that doesn't mean something could happen."

"If a queen chooses not to reveal the name of her mate then she is allowed to not say. And she saved me." The gray warrior's voice dissolved into a pained whisper. "I love her."

Fireheart's muscles loosened as he gave his friend's ears a brief lick. "I know you do," he meowed softly. "But your kits will never know you're their father."

"Who says I won't tell them?" Graystripe said sharply, the challenge rising back into his meow. "They'll have a father they can be proud of, wether he comes from ThunderClan or not. And if—if I can't tell them, then at least I'll know and that's all that matters."

"But will that be enough?" Fireheart pressed on without pausing to consider the pain his friend might be feeling. "What if you have to fight your own son or daughter? RiverClan is still hunting at the Sunningrocks. I know that Silverstream's Clan is still weakened with hunger, and I wish there was something we could do to help them. But if piling on troubles if the warm-up, I'd hate to see what the second round looks like. It's bad enough already."

"But don't you see!" Graystripe gasped so suddenly that Fireheart jumped. "This is the perfect solution!"

"To what?"

"Your nephew!"

In spite of himself, curiosity evaporated his previous anxieties. "How is your illicit romance going to save the kit?"

"Well," Graystripe mewed, "he's white, right? And Silverstream is silver, her father's pale-furred... What if we pretended, you know, if..."

"If what?"

Graystripe's face lit up with excitement as he meowed, "What if we smuggled him into Silverstream's litter and pretended that he was one of her kits? They'd look a lot alike! And that way Tigerclaw or Bluestar would never know."

For a moment Fireheart tried to picture his nephew growing up in another Clan, his kittypet kin thinking that he was pure RiverClan blood, not realizing that he was a kittypet, or that, had things been different, his future would have rested inside ThunderClan instead...

"No," Fireheart answered firmly. "It's not worth it."

"Then where else can he go?" Graystripe sighed in exasperation, digging his now unsheathed claws into the tangled gorse. Tussocks of springy grass clumped between his claws. "The rest of the Clan expects him to be dead by morning, either a scrap for the crows or to be polished off by the frost. It's his only chance to be raised within a warrior Clan without having to be returned to the Twolegplace."

"Yes," Fireheart growled. "And you'll be his foster father? He'll never know who he really is, or what he means to me." Fireheart felt his throat tighten as he trembled. "He was my own flesh and blood, my only kin within ThunderClan who might have understood kittypet roots. I don't want to lose what that feels like."

Meeting Graystripe's gaze, he saw sympathy as well as understanding in those yellow depths. Did Graystripe expect all the problems between them to be patched up now that they were in the same predicament? Shrewd, Fireheart thought waspishly. Shame prickled at his fur like a flash of lightning. Graystripe was doing this to help him. This was their only chance . . .

"But," Fireheart meowed, a little desperately, "my nephew will be, er, obviously older-looking than the rest of Silverstream's litter. How do we know that Mudfur won't realize he's not Silverstream's son?" How do we even slip into the middle of their camp and pass him over without every warrior noticing?

Graystripe's whiskers twitched. "I thought you'd say that. You see, if I ask Silverstream, the day she expects her kits to arrive we can her meet near Fourtrees. From there, if we simply slick down your kin's fur he'll blend right in, as good as a tiny newborn kit. They'd be born outside the RiverClan camp."

Hope once again stormed inside Fireheart's head like a swarm of bees, magnifying his gratitude. "And you're willing to do this...all for me?"

Graystripe's eyes glowed warmly in the semidarkness. "You're my best friend, Fireheart," he meowed, not unkindly. "Of course I would."

A hoarse purr formed in Fireheart's throat. For a moment, the raging storm outside seemed to dissolve as he stared from Graystripe to the kit rested against his best friend's pelt. Just think, he urged himself consolingly, he doesn't have to know we're kin. I just need to remember the life I'm giving him now, and everything he could have one day.

Unbidden, for a moment he imagined that he was racing through the undergrowth with his kittypet kin behind him, a white blur that tore through the ferns by his side. Reckless happiness fueled his determination. That great future spread itself before him like bird wings, and he couldn't tear his thoughts off of it.

"Then why are we heading to Ravenpaw and Barley's barn?"

"He'll need a place to stay for a while before we can bring him into Silverstream's litter," Graystripe replied instantly, as if he had been anticipating the answer. He nodded his head excitedly. "So when we're ready, we can go and fetch for him."

Fireheart nodded. "We should get going soon," he added, peering out into the now lightly falling snowfall. "I'd hazard a guess that it's moonhigh now. We'll need to be back by at least dawn before any cats become suspicious."

"Mouse dung!" Graystripe spat unexpectedly, looking frustrated.

Fireheart jumped. Quickly he stuck his head outside the heather, expecting to see enemy cats.

Nothing.

"Don't do that!" he mewed weakly. "I thought you saw a badger or something trying to get in..."

"We should have left blood at the Sunningrocks!" Graystripe hissed, raising a paw to his muzzle to examine it. "That way it would have looked like scavengers took him."

Fireheart screwed up his face with bitter resentment. "Tigerclaw would have been suspicious if he saw a little trail of scarlet heading for Fourtrees, instead of a full-out massacre. He's used to tons of blood being spilled, so a few drops would only disappoint him. It was a good idea, though," he added encouragingly, as Graystripe's ears flattened.

"Would we have left paw tracks?" Graystripe wondered miserably.

Again, Fireheart stuck his ginger head out into the open. "No," he answered firmly, scanning the dark gray sky. "The snow should have covered our tracks. Besides, unless Tigerclaw's a bat, he won't be able to see his own tail out in this. Can you bring him? We need to get going before this worsens; just our luck."

The solid gray tomcat nodded as he rose to his paws, gingerly lifting the tiny kitten by his scruff. He lout out a petrified, pathetic mewling as his hind paws left the moorland ground and dangled in the air. Through a mouthful of white fluff Graystripe meowed, "It's not far. If we get there quickly, no one will notice that we took our time."

Fireheart twitched an ear to show he heard before carefully sticking his shoulders outside. Like a giant white pelt, snow spread across the springy grass of WindClan's territory. Paw step for paw step the ginger tomcat picked his way over the frost, leaving a trail behind him. Graystripe padded more smoothly in his wake, treading less slush in his best friend's slipstream rather than tackling the storm head-on.

Doubt shadowed each step the ginger kittypet took. Their journey seemed to lengthen with every heartbeat, their destination never looming closer. Finally, the thing that was troubling Fireheart the most burst out of his mouth before he could stop himself: "Why did Yellowfang lie about StarClan sentencing the kit into exile?"

Graystripe's eyes narrowed, but he didn't turn to reply. Instead the big gray cat flexed his shoulders and sprang, clearing a fallen log without flinching. Fireheart wasn't so lucky; his fur snagged on a protruding branch and he stumbled on the landing, slipping over a patch of buried ice. Graystripe instantly backtracked and circled around him.

"Are you okay?" he meowed through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I—I'm fine," gasped Fireheart, gingerly standing up. He tried to put weight on his front leg and found it could still support him, though it wobbled under the strain. Wincing, he took up the pace again with Graystripe at his tail. A throbbing in his paw made him grit his teeth. I have to keep going...

"Well?"

Shaking sleet out of his face, Graystripe meowed quietly, "I don't think she did. The sign was genuine."

"How could it be?" Fireheart asked as he scrabbled up a rock side, snagging his claws over the smooth wind-swept surface. Scarlet smears of blood left by his bleeding pads were quickly swallowed up by snow.

"Well." The warrior ducked his head apologetically before quickly rushing on, "After the meeting I went to visit Cinderpaw, and she said Yellowfang was in an awful state. She was terrifying to watch after StarClan sent the omen." His face darkened. "Our warrior ancestors seemed to...to think that your kin shouldn't be allowed to join. They weren't clear why, though."

"And they said to kill him in cold blood?" Fireheart snarled, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"That was Tigerclaw's idea. He said the sign made it look like a punishment, and that we had to follow it through. The Clan's really sick...they felt that they needed to do something to earn StarClan's approval, so that they would banish away the sickness. Well, at least some cats did."

ThunderClan's barbaric savagery made Fireheart unsheathe his claws into the thickening, belly-high snow. "Medicine cats make Clans better, not dead warriors." He paused. "You said only some cats believed this theory. Care to lighten up?"

Snow tumbled down the side of a boulder mound, where the wind blew to them stale scents of WindClan felines. This place is often used as a look out. Instinctively Fireheart scanned the ridge, checking for signs of a cat on watch. The storm seemed to have driven all of the WindClan cats into their nests. Good, it's deserted. He didn't want to "thank StarClan" right now, as it was their fault that he out in the middle of this awful weather.

"Yellowfang was furious," Graystripe answered after a moment of contemplation. "She kept muttering about how they were all obsessed with pure-blood inheritance. Not aloud, though. A lot of cats supported Bluestar's decision—Tigerclaw's, really—and she didn't want civil warfare when her Clan needed her, so she kept her muzzle shut. Though I bet she'll be speaking with StarClan at half-moon, no matter what. Cinderpaw was upset, and what she really needs right now is rest. Frostfur and Brindleface were sort of undecided."

"Undecided?" Fireheart echoed. They had reached a barrier of snow-topped brambles. Pushing his way through the gorse, he left a thin, scraggly tunnel behind him, earning himself a few cuts that stung painfully. "Pass him to me," he meowed to Graystripe.

Leaning forward through the gap, his friend gingerly held the white kittypet between his teeth, careful to avoid twigs. Fireheart took his kin by the scruff and pulled him back out of harm's way while Graystripe struggled out of the brambles. Glittering frost stuck to his long pelt. Impatiently he shook it off. "I'll take him back now."

Fireheart muttered, "Thanks," as he passed his kittypet kin back to Graystripe. As they set off through the thinning moorland snow Fireheart pressed on: "What did Brindleface and Frostfur say?"

"Like I said, they didn't know what to do," Graystripe answered, shaking each of his paws in turn every few steps. "They were just as anxious as the rest as the Clan and equally superstitious. But being queens, they didn't like the idea of having to let a kit die just to make StarClan happy." He drifted off into silence, and Fireheart didn't need to hear anymore.

Familiar haunts seemed to vanish buried under the snow. At last, the stone walls of the welcoming, warm Twoleg barn grew within sight. Together Fireheart and Graystripe picked up speed and bounded the last few fox-lengths, avoiding the ditch where a swarm of rats had claimed one of Bluestar's lives. A narrow gap in the wall stretched like a mouth, big enough to fit a full-grown cat.

"Ravenpaw!" yowled Fireheart over the volume of the wind. Fear folded in his mind like dark wings. What if Ravenpaw or Barley weren't home?

For a few seconds they stood outside, peering into the dark confines of the barn. Relief gushed through Fireheart like a frothing river when a surprised voice answered. "Fireheart? Graystripe? Is that you?"

The black loner squeezed through the hole in the wall. He looked as well-fed as the last they had visited him a mere few moons before. He flicked his white-tipped tail in greeting, brushing muzzles first with Fireheart, then Graystripe. Sensing warmth close at hand the kitten began to cry even harder.

Ravenpaw's eyes widened as he spotted the kit Graystripe was carrying. "What is that?" Worry ignited like fire in his eyes green eyes. "Is that a ThunderClan kit? Why did you bring it here? Have you both been exiled?"

Some still-existing past paranoia made his fur bristle. "What's Tigerclaw done this time?" the loner hissed sharply, lashing his long tail.

"No!" Graystripe protested. "It's nothing like that, it's—"

"Ravenpaw? What's going on?" a new voice meowed.

Braley's hay-scent flooded through the gap in the Twoleg barn as the muscular black-and-white tom joined his companion. His eyes, momentarily lit with surprise and delight, quickly subsided into suspicion when they fell on the white kit.

To Fireheart's surprise Barley lowered his head and sniffed his flank. "Bring him inside," he ordered, his expression guarded. "He'll be dry and safe in there."

Without another questioning look the loner slipped back inside; Ravenpaw shrugged and beckoned to Fireheart and Graystripe. The trio crouched and stalked through the gap, emerging into the shady confines of the hay-littered floors. There was a gap in the roof, though snow seemed to catch onto the wooden roof rather than filter into the barn. Walls shielded them from any drafts, and in greenleaf would keep its inhabitants cool.

Mouth-watering, pungent scents of mice wafted through the barn. The prey here was still running greenleaf plump despite the cold weather. For a moment, Fireheart couldn't help but envy his friend's easy life, away from Clan perils and sinister omens. The kit could have grown up here and been happy, he thought warily. Catching himself, But he's going to be a warrior, the flame-coated ThunderClan cat added.

Barley had disappeared for the moment, leaving himself, Graystripe and Ravenpaw alone with his nephew.

"Can you help us?" Fireheart asked, suddenly feeling guilty for burdening his friend with his own problems that had everything to do with a Clan Ravenpaw no longer called home.

Ravenpaw nodded. "You saved my life. I haven't forgotten that, to either of you," he meowed, turning his head in Graystripe's direction and blinking his eyes warmly.

Savory, musky scents overlaid with the salty tang of blood filled the corner. Barley had returned, carrying a couple of mice and a single chaffinch.

"You look half-starved," meowed the loner critically, concern showing in his twitching whiskers. "Here. Eat, and then we can talk."

"There's not a lot of time," Fireheart interjected. He sat down on his haunches and crouched with the newborn between his paws, curling his tail around its frail body. He had been worried that the kit might not have survived the long journey to the uplands, but his theory about his kittypet kin being strong seemed true. He opened a remarkably pink mouth and trembled, nestling deeper into his ginger fur.

Fireheart lifted his head and directed his next words to both loner cats. "Can you help us? We need to find a nursing queen, and fast."

"Can't ThunderClan look after him?" Barley asked curiously. His quickness seemed based off of concern rather than hostility. It occurred to Fireheart that Barley was always able to be counted on for honesty and loyalty than anything else. A true friend.

He dropped the fresh-kill into a small pile and scraped hay over it. "I don't know," Barley admitted slowly. "You still haven't told us why..."

"This must come first. Please," Graystripe begged, his yellow eyes desperate. "We'll tell you, but right now this kit needs milk."

"You've come far, then?" Ravenpaw meowed.

"Directly from the camp," Fireheart answered.

Silence fell over the small band of cats, until Barley broke it with a single word: "Violet."

"Who?" Fireheart turned his green gaze onto the muscular loner, who shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowed in deep, foggy thoughts.

"My sister." Barley's eyes glassed over with pain and sorrow as he spoke: "I was forced to separate with her seasons ago. I left her in the care of a kittypet named Fuzz and his Twoleg, who seems to be an equivalent to your medicine cat. I had my leg healed by him." He twitched his back leg, his voice growing weaker as the loner was lost down the trail of his mysterious memories and past. "One night, I came back to find her prisoner. I had broken the rules. I had defied my leader, and I paid the price. She nearly died at my own brothers' claws."

Ravenpaw stood so suddenly that Fireheart jumped; in an instant the black tomcat had pressed himself in support against Barley's flank, mewing words of comfort, while Barley trembled. It felt like he was intruding on something private that was better left untapped; seeing the loner cat in such a state of pathetic sadness momentarily drove his crisis out of his mind. Fleetingly Fireheart thought of Princess, his own kittypet sister, safe and tucked away in her nest by the woods.

"You have brothers?" Graystripe whispered.

Barley nodded, his glazed eyes seeping wet. "They are no kin of mine," he rasped angrily.

"I've known for some time," Ravenpaw added hastily. "Being denmates, we've told each other a lot. Tigerclaw's name has come up a few times, too."

Fireheart shifted his gaze from Barley to Ravenpaw. Meeting Graystripe's eyes, he saw his own shock and empathy mirrored there. Graystripe shifted.

"I'm so sorry," the gray warrior mewed, his eyes as round as full moons. "I never knew..."

Fireheart had always counted on the loner as a friend. "Friends" were not just there for the support and through the hard times; they told each other things, and seeing how little Fireheart knew about Barley, he felt self-betrayed and shunted sideways. He had hardly known him at all with this new information thrust under his face, and felt as much bitter resentment and confusion as he did comfort: That Barley had chosen to reveal what was obviously such a tender memory meant he had earned his trust. Perhaps moons ago I did...

Barley shook his head as if to clear it. Shaking cobwebs of the past from his mind, the black-and-white loner stood. "If I ask her, Violet might look after the kit." He glanced at him again warily. "I'll go at once. I should be back by dawn."

"Thank you, Barley," Fireheart meowed gratefully, as he touched noses with the loner. "If there's ever anything I can do, name it, and I will."

"Take care, little one," Graystripe breathed as he gave the tiny white kit a lick. He mewled, flashing tiny teeth; he was a few good moons away from weaning. Fireheart watched as Barley scooped him up as quick as a flash, bounding for the exit to the barn.

As Barley bent low to squeeze through the gap he oddly stopped, hitched himself backwards and spun around to face Fireheart. "Does he have a name?" came the unexpected question.

"Er." If he was being honest with himself, Fireheart had never really thought of a name until just now. He would have expected Bluestar to welcome him with a Clan name. . . Anger made Fireheart unsheathe his claws and scrape them over the wooden floor, furious with his leader, with himself, with StarClan...

He was not only endangering himself, but running his treachery deeper by entwining the kit's fate with Graystripe, Silverstream and her kits, and Ravenpaw and Barley's outset lives away from the forest.

With a swish of his tail the young kittypet stalked over and stared down at the white kitten. If he had been warrior born, a queen would have ended his name with 'kit', like tradition dictated them to. For a moment he crouched beside the kit and loner, uncertainty and curiosity mingling with his waning dread. How did she-cats and toms choose what to name their sons and daughters?

His own naming ceremony flooded back like a tidal wave, engulfing him with days that seemed to exist in another cat's lifetime. Happiness tipped his paws like a warm newleaf day, and he purred. His leader and named him for looking like "a brand of fire". What did his nephew look like?

He looks like a cloud, Fireheart decided, surveying the fluffy white kit that mewled inquiringly. He batted out a tiny paw and make a grabbing motion for Fireheart's nose, those uncertain, blue eyes twinkling like pale sapphires.

Fireheart picked himself up off the ground gingerly and turned to look at Barley. "Cloudkit," he answered, dipping his head. "For his fur." And named just as I was. The thought that they now shared a similar connection made him feel more akin to the tiny kitten than he had hours ago, when Princess had laid him at his paws.

The only part that numbed him as he watched Barley slip through the gap and out of sight with Cloudkit was that his sister had intended his nephew as his apprentice. How could he ever hope to train Cloudkit if he were to grow up in hostile RiverClan and know only disdain for kittypets, as all forest cats did? Would he grow up with the same prejudice hate for kittypets when he was one himself?

"Fireheart?"

Ravenpaw's mew vanished away these sickening notions. Gradually the flame-coated warrior forced himself to turn around. Both of his friends were watching him carefully, as if anxious of him striking out at them.

"Are you okay? You look terrible," Graystripe meowed bracingly.

Ravenpaw beckoned with his tail. "Come share some fresh-kill," he purred. "Let's not let Barley's mice go to waste."

Fireheart's insides writhed like maggots, but the tempting, stronger smells of fresh-kill lured him over. He ravenously gulped down one mouse then took another for himself, savoring every greedy bite that flooded through the warm blood and savory flesh. He hadn't realized how hungry he was! The anxiety that had settled itself like a storm cloud in his belly subsided, and a strong sense of victory and relief made his fur finally lay flat.

Ravenpaw took a thoughtful bite into his own prey, swishing his tongue around his muzzle to take off the last traces of his meal. The black loner stretched.

"Now," he meowed, resting his curious gaze on Fireheart. "Tell me what this is all about. You owe me an explanation."

Like Barley, Ravenpaw seemed to share the same guarded, wary expression his denmate had when he offered the travelers shelter. His white-tipped tail flicked uneasily, as if he didn't want to hear the truth, but rather was forcing himself. This seemed like a relic of the old Ravenpaw, jumpy, irritable and suspicious.

Fireheart glanced uneasily at his best friend. Revealing the full extends of their plan would mean having to fill in Graystripe' part about his forbidden love, Bluestar's moment of extreme passion, StarClan's omen, Tigerclaw... so much had happened that it gushed like a dark, frothing torrent of water.

How much would Ravenpaw understand, anyway? His other best friend had abandoned Clan life to enjoy living alone. Again, anger gushed through Fireheart, a pain that seared far worse than any set of fangs. Tigerclaw made you leave ThunderClan, he thought sourly. He ignored the drop of admiration that made him remember how smoothly the dark-hearted tabby had accomplished all of this, every paw step that led to murder, death, exiling an apprentice, crippling an innocent apprentice, blinding a leader who had always been great in his eyes...

Nothing seemed to make much sense, other than Fireheart's rebellion to struggle against this injustice.

We're friends, he decided in a sudden rush. Ravenpaw would understand, even if I didn't, he added with the bitter taste of this knowledge hitting the roof of his mouth.

With slow, unsteady breaths, Fireheart launched into the beginning of his story, starting with an unwise expedition along the river's edge in search of prey for the elders. The whole time Ravenpaw gaped at him with his jaw open in a comical O. From time to time Fireheart traded off his story with Graystripe, his friend retelling the past few weeks of their lives, every tiny little step that sprang into this being, here and now, a leaf-bare gale raging outside the barn on the edge of WindClan territory.

Ravenpaw's eyes seemed to bug with every new sentence until he thought they might simply fall out of Ravenpaw's head. It ended with Fireheart as he recapped the final bit: "...and after Graystripe proposed the idea, we headed for your barn. Apparently a lot of the Clan are supportive of Tigerclaw's choice. It couldn't have been Bluestar's, because she wouldn't have been so ambitious as to sacrifice a kit."

Echoing silence followed the end of their story. Ravenpaw's eyes merely watered, as if he were trying to remember how to blink properly. The black loner sat with his front legs spread apart, as rigid as a log with his green eyes fixed solely on Fireheart. The look was so unnerving that he might have looked away, had he not reminded himself, It's Ravenpaw, you mouse-brained fool, not some cranky elder!

Ravenpaw seemed to recover the ability to process thought and emotion, for a blazing terror made him jump to his paws. "Are you out of your minds?" he screeched, dismay filling his entire face. The way he began to pace back and forth in front of them like an angry Tigerclaw was so uncanny that Fireheart flinched.

The haunted, hunted look he had worn in the days of his apprenticeship resurfaced more clearly than ever. The black cat seemed at an eternal inner struggle, from time to time giving a distinct mutter. Graystripe drew back each time Ravenpaw brushed past, crouching lower and lower. At last, Ravenpaw seemed to find a grip on himself. Turning to face Graystripe, he meowed, in a constricted sort of voice, "Why. . .why Silverstream, Graystripe? Of all the she-cats to mother your kits, why her?"

Graystripe looked ruffled. "I love her," he answered crisply. "You're taking this as badly as Fireheart did," he added in a deeply hurt voice, giving Fireheart an accusing look.

"I forgave you," Fireheart reminded him with a firm edge to his mew. Graystripe cautiously shook his head, as if try to shake water out of his ears.

"Please," he meowed pleadingly to Ravenpaw, "spare me the talk. I know what I did, and I'm proud of it. RiverClan will be receiving beautiful kits, and when Cloudkit is ready to join them, that tallies up one more."

Suddenly all the energy seemed to be squashed out of Ravenpaw, as if he had been suffocated by a heavy rock. The former ThunderClan apprentice slipped up and pressed his flank against Graystripe's, looking guilty and calm again.

"I'm sorry," he mewed, his green eyes flickering with a watery glow. "I've forgotten a lot in my time away from ThunderClan. What it must be like to have to suffer like this I cannot imagine."

"So you still miss it?" Fireheart meowed, unable to help himself. "I thought you liked the life of a loner more?"

Ravenpaw gave him a weak smile in return. "I haven't forgotten the Clan that I was born to," he meowed, "and I'll never forget the friends who helped me to safety, or trained with me for three moons. It is simply that the life of a loner suits me better."

The storm had ended. A cold moon approaching full cast its pearly, shining light through the slashes in the roof of the barn. One of these beams struck Ravenpaw's side and caught him half in the shadows, giving him the look of a cat who was halfway into the world of StarClan. Secretly, Fireheart felt hat his friend better played the part of a warrior than he ever would. The loner cat had accepted Graystripe's story and questioned it, then balanced it with reason and compassion very few warriors showed. It struck Fireheart as odd how he had only noticed it just now.

"That's quite a story," Ravenpaw remarked. "It doesn't sound like the ThunderClan I knew. Or what's left of it, by the way you described some of the cats."

Fireheart gave a despairing sigh. "What's biting my skin is why StarClan would do such a thing. That sounds easily like what Tigerclaw might try, making sure weak cats died on his way to power—"

Graystripe gave his shoulder a hard nudge and pointed with his tail. Puzzled, Fireheart followed in that direction and gazed into Ravenpaw's face. He looked terrified. Cottoning on, Fireheart quickly steered his bitter resentment away from that general area of the conversation and tackled his next problem: "I suppose the Clan would have accepted that decision easily. It itches my fur though that the omen came at such a moment. I mean, Bluestar read my losing my kittypet collar as a powerful sign of StarClan's approval. What do they have against kittypets now?"

"Perhaps they're as afraid for ThunderClan as we are," guessed Graystripe uncertainly. "Our territory is fairing well, considering that RiverClan has no prey to speak of and ShadowClan was left half-starved after Brokenstar's reign. If they thought we were weak, it could turn into an ugly free-for-all, a decent territory fit for the taking."

As if an afterthought, the big gray cat added, "You really are lucky, Fireheart. I'm not saying that I agree with Bluestar or anything," he added hastily, "but maybe there's some truth to her words. You have no idea how much a lot of cats laughed at the idea of ThunderClan sizing up a kittypet next to forest-born warriors. It was unheard of."

"Well, I think it's disgusting," Ravenpaw meowed suddenly. "Kittypets could be as fit for warrior life as a Clanborn cat could become a loner! Violet was born into a lawless place of blood and battle, and she left for a Twoleg nest and easy comforts, something that you've always rejected. You've proven yourself to StarClan a thousand times over; bringing WindClan home, every mouse or bird brought down. Both of you have," he added, nodding to the two cats sitting before him.

Graystripe sneezed. "Don't count yourself out; you're as worthy as any Clan cat. Though right now I'm not so sure I want StarClan's favors," he meowed disdainfully, crinkling his nose.

Fireheart narrowed his eyes carefully. "It could change," he meowed quickly, suddenly desperate to change the mood. If he shattered both of their faiths then it was his fault. "StarClan might have seen it differently than I did, and had another destiny in mind."

Destiny, he reflected silently. What an odd word. Was it destiny now that he was here on this listless, snow-covered moorland by twilight because it was always meant to be? Or did StarClan intend it so? Whatever the reason, it puzzled him as much as it tired him out.

Ravenpaw broke these thoughts apart when he meowed unexpectedly, "I'm very sorry to hear about Cinderpaw. She was one of the kits you rescued from ShadowClan, wasn't she?"

"My first apprentice," Fireheart meowed sadly. No matter what any cat would say, he would always blame himself for diverting her restless spirit away from the path of a warrior, by not trying harder to stop her. Who knew? She might have even risen up to deputy or leader status. Her kindness and skills were wasted.

Ravenpaw's next words puzzled him even further when he meowed, "And you said she's learning from Yellowfang now?"

"Learning? Well, no, not exactly..." But now that he thought about it, what else would Cinderpaw do with her time? Unable to sit still, the fluffy gray cat would surely try anything to help her caretaker. For a moment, Fireheart amused himself with the picture Ravenpaw's words painted in his head: The bright young she-cat padding awkwardly in Yellowfang's wake, asking endless questions about different healing herbs and remedial treatments, or which ones best worked on her hind leg. He could almost hear Yellowfang's scathing mew, and the rusty laughter that normally followed her sarcastic comments. His whiskers almost twitched, and a short mrrow of laughter escaped from his throat.

"But you could learn."

"Learn what?" Graystripe echoed, looking equally bemused. "Was that mouse you ate bad or something? Because I think it's gotten to your head, Ravenpaw."

Ravenpaw's ear gave an impatient twitch. "I'm talking about you learning how to help a queen kit," he meowed in exasperation. "You won't be able to have a medicine cat at your side when the time comes, since it's technically against the warrior code."

Now it was Fireheart's turn to be sarcastic. "If you haven't noticed, I'm Fireheart," he meowed. "I earned my warrior name already, so I can't exactly go up to Bluestar and demand for apprentice status all over again. I'm sure Tigerclaw might get a little suspicious, but no one will definitely notice. They're all too mouse-brained, anyway."

Several heartbeats of quiet thought process followed these words before Graystripe gave a belch of laughter and fell onto his side, his face screwed up with mirth. Ravenpaw suddenly caught Graystripe's fits and let out a yowl that made the mice squeak and scuttle into the dark corners of the Twoleg barn. Even Fireheart's own tail lashed as he too succumbed into gales of carefree mrrows. It was a momentary bliss, as if he had snuffed up too much catnip; he felt like he was an apprentice all over again, unburdened with the heavy weight of all the secrets he knew and the prophecies that were carried to him as he slept, or Spottedleaf's face, constantly spinning in his mind...

His ribs ached, and grudgingly he hiccuped into silence. Blinking tears out of his cheerful yellow eyes, Graystripe meowed, a bit more seriously, "How would he learn? It's not as if he really can dedicate his whole life to studying plants, or reading the stars and translating omens."

"You don't need to do all of that," Ravenpaw scoffed, waving down the statement with his tail. "It's just learning enough so that the necessary precautions can be obtained. I'm certain that Cinderpaw would love to chat away about healing queens, and you'll be giving her some company too."

"Great," Fireheart meowed, remembering to add this to his agenda. "Then..." His voice faltered hopefully. "Then that's really it?" Could it actually be possible?

Ravenpaw nodded. "Just make sure that Silverstream gets the same message, and it'll be all upstream from here." He purred warmly. "Want to stay for a while? You both look like you could sleep for a moon. I could rouse you when it's near dawn."

"Thanks, but no," Fireheart meowed, thinking longingly of his own nest. Curling up and falling asleep would be such a relief right now that he almost wailed his longing. "We need to head back to camp; we could also hunt back along the way and say that we were out hunting during the night to find prey to take back to camp."

"Why not take some of the mice here?" Ravenpaw offered. "Being so plump, I'm sure Tigerclaw couldn't possibly object."

"You're forgetting that what we're catching right now is scrawny," Graystripe pointed out dully, eyeing the shadowy crevices of the barn with a wistful gleam. "He would wonder where we had found such plump prey in the middle of leaf-bare."

"Right." Ravenpaw licked his chest fur in embarassment. "Then let me at least see you off as far as the rat ditches."

Fireheart forced an appreciative purr. "I won't forget this," he promised, while Graystripe squeezed through the gap in the wall.

"I'll pass on the news to Barley," Ravenpaw meowed evasively, shrugging. Splinters that ringed the gap in the wall tugged like brambles at his fur as he wriggled out into the snow. "And it isn't a problem. Really."

Fireheart felt more light-hearted than he had in hours, days, really. With speed the three cats launched themselves over the caked moorland, leaving paw prints in their wake as they crunched over the snow. At last a slope in the ground alerted them to the rat ditches. Graystripe opened his mouth and scented the air, looking wary. Beside him, Ravenpaw was snuffling at the fallen powder. "No . . . none around. It's safe to cross."

"We'll be seeing each other again soon, right?" Fireheart mewed cheerfully as he touched noses with the loner.

"I'd bet my life on that—well, not my life, but maybe a few whiskers," Ravenpaw meowed, looking falsely anxious. "Got to watch what I say or I might really tread on mouse dung."

Graystripe's tail curled up in amusement. Fireheart sighed, his gaze drawn to the distant lining of silvery trees that would plunge into RiverClan's heartlands.

"I think we'd better go to Fourtrees first. I don't care if my paws fall off, I'm still taking the long route home rather than taking a dip in the gorge. We'd freeze to death if we fell in!"

"Or drown," Graystripe muttered darkly.

Fireheart blinked, for the first time realizing they were treading a very similar route, a very similar rescue made not even two moons ago. How odd it felt to be back here so soon, when WindClan had been returning to the uplands and Barkface had cast his prediction that another cat would die. Could it be a bad omen to stand here again?

Turning on their paws, the three cats pressed flanks for a moment and stared in a similar direction, their muzzles pointed in the direction of the setting moon. Long shadows of indigo-gray fell over the forest where he belonged. His heart yearned to be there.

Ravenpaw waved his tail. "Good luck, my friends! May StarClan light your path!"

Calling back over his shoulder "Good hunting!" Fireheart and Graystripe pelted over the dip in the moor through WindClan territory.

---

Born into despair,

By the time Fireheart and Graystripe pushed their way back into the camp dawn had come. Pink-ridged beyond Highstone's peaks, a warm, orange glow bathed the bare clearing. The snow had struck hard here too. Everywhere there were cats' paw prints in the sleet. Warriors buzzed around Tigerclaw as he called commands over their heads.

"Darkstripe, lead the dawn patrol! Whitestorm, Mousefur, I want this territory combed between the both of your hunting parties! ThunderClan won't be going hungry tonight." His amber-eyed gaze dropped when he saw Fireheart approach the small crowd, three mice and a shrew swaying from his jaw. Graystripe also had the catch of a single, unlucky rabbit and two squirrel.

"Well, well." Tigerclaw swished his tail over the carpet of snow as he padded forward to meet them. Runningwind and Longtail drew back as he brushed past. "You certainly took a long time to get back, kittypet. I had begun to think you might have returned to Twolegplace," he drawled.

Fireheart dropped his prey sloppily at the great tabby's paws, scarlet drops of blood spattering the snow where it was thinnest. "We thought a bit of hunting would be good for the Clan," he meowed evenly, swallowing his temper.

Tigerclaw raised his head and swivelled it around like an owl, to look into the curious eyes of his audience. The great tabby lowered his voice to a husky growl. "Didn't see that scrawny little fluff ball, though," he sneered. "I suppose that you weren't the only ones out hunting last night. The foxes got richer pickings than you ever will. Or maybe you didn't see him because of his white coat. I'd check your pads; you might have walked on him by accident."

Fireheart unsheathed his claws, and beside him Graystripe gave a warning hiss. He lowered his voice. "At least when I kill a cat it's always an accident. Though I suppose you can't exactly say the same thing, can you, Tigerclaw?"

Tigerclaw barred his teeth and took several dangerous steps forward, until Fireheart could feel the deputy's rancid breath buffeting his face like a hot wind.

"Bluestar may have thought you were a good little warrior," he snarled, "but you should watch your step around me. I'm not stupid."

"That's new to me," snapped Fireheart. He didn't know what had driven him to provoking the Clan's most senior warrior, but it felt exhilarating to be able to use the deputy as an outlet for his loathing.

Spinning on his paws, Fireheart whisked around and headed in the direction of the warriors' den, blinded by his upsurge. He didn't get far, however, when a menacing voice called him back: "Have you seen your leader's face recently?"

"Ignore him," Graystripe warned in a low undertone. "He's just riling you up." But curiosity got the better of him.

Fireheart slowly looked back over his shoulder. Dustpaw and Whitestorm's hindquarters were already vanishing into the gorse tunnel, but Bluestar had paused to linger. Apparently the she-cat hadn't been entirely deaf to Tigerclaw's words, for she was staring across the snowy clearing directly at her former apprentice. She seemed to teeter on the verge of speech, her blue eyes watching Fireheart with unmasked desperation and disappointment. Shaking her silvery head, the blue-gray queen turned and followed after her fellow warriors out into the ravine.

---

My friend, you've walked,

The days leading up to the Gathering seemed to be supercharged with tension in the air, going at an even slower pace than possible. It was now common gossip that Bluestar would be directly challenging ShadowClan and RiverClan's leaders about allowing their warriors to hunt on their territory. Fireheart didn't greet the idea with the same enthusiasm as his Clanmates, but rather anxiety. He wanted to talk with Silverstream again and learn of her consent in the plan, but with warring Clans that would be near impossible.

Graystripe, keeping his promise, had resumed a more dedicated role as a mentor to Brackenpaw, giving Fireheart time to divide his free time between Cinderpaw, worrying, hunting, worrying, and, oddly enough—Bluestar.

Since the Clan meeting a quarter moon ago his leader seemed to be spending increasing amounts of time with the flame-coated warrior. Wether it was taking up a hunting mission with him near the Owl Tree (as ShadowClan scent was frequently found there again) or patrolling the Sunningrocks (RiverClan cats had slaughtered more woodland prey on the sun-bake stones), she rarely left his side. Though they hardly spoke, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two cats. Seemingly feeling bad for sentencing his kin to 'death', Bluestar was making an extra effort to patch up the hostility that had formed when she bent to StarClan's will. Fireheart forgave a little more easily than he forgot, however, and tended to give her looks rather than answer with the respect cats under higher hierarchy deserved. Bluestar never contradicted him for his rudeness.

This sapped up all of his time and energy. With his extra outings, and under Tigerclaw's strict new policy on storing up on reserve fresh-kill, he barely managed to slip in and give Cinderpaw a visit. Crucial it was to carefully excrete lessons on healing pregnant queens, this both helped Fireheart prepare for Silverstream's own kitting and give Cinderpaw something to do. On a rare, Bluestar-free morning, the day before the Gathering he slipped out of the bush that bordered the nettle patch. Ducking underneath the overhanging branches, he emerged from his den after a night yielding poor sleep.

Quietly he slipped across the clearing, studying the fading star-strewn skies of Silverpelt. Careful to not rouse any other cats he made his way toward the dead fern-enclosed clearing. He was relieved when he heard a familiar, mischievous voice meow, "These taste awful!"

"Then eat them quickly, or you'll only have to savor the taste longer." That was Yellowfang.

Fireheart called out a greeting, and when an answering, "Come in," came from the other end of the tunnel he bounded eagerly into the clearing.

A bundle of fluffy gray fur covered him with delighted purrs and licks, momentarily obscuring his vision. Over Cinderpaw's head he saw Yellowfang distinctly roll her eyes.

"She never stops jabbering," the medicine cat sighed, shaking her head. "It's like living with a nest full of sparrows. Every time you kill one nestling another hatches out, and it starts all over again..."

Cinderpaw threw Yellowfang a rueful look. "I thought you said you were too deaf to hear me?" she teased, and Fireheart was relieved to hear the playful tone in her lively meow.

"Oh, the pair of you, grow up!" she growled, flattening her ears to her patchy head. "You're embarassing me and my Clan. Thank StarClan I wasn't born here. Then I'd have to admit being related to this ragtag group!"

Fireheart knew Yellowfang too well to take her seriously.

Instead, he glanced at the herbs Yellowfang had been tempting Cinderpaw into eating. "What are those?"

"It's crow-food in plant form," Cinderpaw explained sagely, nodding. "Medicine cats feed it to their innocent, clueless patients to extend the suffering..." With a dramatic moan the gray she-cat flopped onto her back and pawed the air, reminding Fireheart strongly of Cloudkit.

"I think I can see StarClan now . . ."

Yellowfang snorted, circling impatiently around the young cat. "You're lucky you didn't see your warrior ancestors at all," the she-cat growled. "Or rather lucky they didn't see you. They probably would have sent you back to me right away, to punish me with an endless stream of chatter; that is, until I got too old to feed you crow-food in plant form."

Cinderpaw gave a mrrow of laughter, her tail lashing high in the air. Gritting her teeth, his apprentice managed to pull herself into a sitting position and shake snow clumps impatiently from her pelt.

Yellowfang gave Fireheart an annoyed look. "Apprentices," the medicine cat meowed woefully. "Even the warriors act like them! I can never seem to escape."

Giving her unkempt, matted gray pelt a brisk shake, Yellowfang began to pad through the tunnel, brushing her tail against Fireheart's flank along the way. "I'm going out into the forest," called Yellowfang. "I need to get away from the suffering patient long enough to clear my head and gather some comfrey root. Try having her do some exercises, won't you, Fireheart?"

"Sure thing," Fireheart meowed.

"You'll know if she's doing them right," she tacked on, "because she'll complain!"

Cinderpaw's eyes glimmered with enthusiasm as she settled into an uncomfortable-looking crouch. "It's great to see you again."

"I like visiting you," the warrior answered. "I miss our old training sessions." He regretted the words the moment he uttered them.

A wistful look gleamed in her remarkably blue eyes, Frostfur's double. "Me too," Cinderpaw breathed, doing her little paw-flick as she attempted to wash her mangled hind leg with her claws. "StarClan, this is awful, I can hardly reach it."

"Can I help?" Fireheart offered awkwardly, keen to give her any reason to tread out of such dangerous water.

Cinderpaw glanced up, evidently surprised. "Thanks!" she mewed, thinking nothing of it. "It's been itching for days..."

Heaving himself to his paws, Fireheart slowly padded over and bent down beside his apprentice. As he helped groom a burr out of her twisted hind leg he began thinking. "Maybe an exercise would loosen it up?"

"But why loosen it up?" she meowed seriously, thought her twinkling eyes contradicted her. "When I have such an efficient washer already?"

Fireheart flattened his ears and gave a stern growl. "How about showing some respect?" he half-joked. "I am your mentor, after all."

"O, yes, great warrior," Cinderpaw mocked. She ducked her head. "Sorry, Fireheart."

This took him aback; he'd only been joking, when her reply sounded completely mollified and reasonable.

"Take a joke," he meowed, "and start those exercises."

Cinderpaw snorted and tossed back her head. "Only because you asked so politely, and Yellowfang would never stop treading on my tail."

Gingerly she rolled onto her side and began to stretch out her bad leg as far as it would go, taking it back and forward with painful faces. The looks guiltily made Fireheart think that she had maggot-gut, a joke Graystripe had used so long ago.

Panting, the breathless Cinderpaw resumed an awkward sitting position, obviously too strained to continue. After a few heartbeats of silent thought she meowed, "I'm never going to be a warrior, am I?"

For a moment a hopeless, melancholy feeling of regret drowned him. He waded out of his own pain, however, and instead of wallowing in it answered truthfully. "No," he rasped, knowing she'd never accept his lie if he had the heart to avoid her question. "I'm so sorry."

Cinderpaw's eyes clouded, and the dull feeling in Fireheart's chest became more pronounced than ever.

"I knew it, really," she meowed to herself, glancing up into the clear, cloud-tossed sky. "It was so weird, as if waking up from a dream. I have no recollection of anything other than this incredible pain in my back leg. So it wasn't like I had a choice; it's like going blind, being forced to adapt to something I didn't want, couldn't control..." Cinderpaw's voice trembled. "I a-always dreamt of running over the pine needles and spruce leaves, with you and Graystripe and Brackenpaw and all my Clanmates at my side. What Frostfur once said, it's true, you know: 'The strength and the fellowship of the Clan will always be with you, even when you hunt alone.'"

As sharp as the cat scents around him, those very word floated back from many moons before, when Bluestar had spoken them to him as a kittypet. Fireheart swallowed, fighting against the crashing weight of overwhelming guilt and choked emotions.

"We'll find the slowest mouse in the forest," he vowed, trying to smile. His jaw felt cracked, as if his muscles were unfamiliar with ability. "It won't stand a chance against you."

Cinderpaw brightened. "Thanks, Fireheart," she meowed gratefully, escaping from her reverie.

Other thoughts pushed their way into Fireheart's mind. "Can you remember the accident?" he prompted gently. "Was Tigerclaw there?"

Cinderpaw shook her head, her eyes wide with confusion. "I d-don't know," she stammered, flinching away from the memory. "I remember following his scent directly below the burnt ash, onto the verge...there was this blinding flash... I remembered the smell you taught me when we first toured ThunderClan territory. It fell over me, I turned onto the Thunderpath, and—"

Evidently she had either drawn to the black in her memories before falling unconscious, or couldn't continue on low morale and fear alone. Fireheart felt sickened, but not at the memory her mangled blood-soaked body had been forever imprinted in his mind's eye, but at the fact it hadn't been prevented. Tigerclaw should have been there. His temper, always close to the surface these days, took a reasonable amount of effort to control.

Princess's ominous words rang in his ears.

"Was it a trap?"

The answer wafted tantalizingly in front of his nose before being snatched off by some dark presence. Fireheart shivered.

Keen to change the subject, he meowed, "Does Yellowfang keep you busy?"

"Busy?" Cinderpaw snorted; she too looked relieved to be getting on with news. "That's her word for 'I-have-nothing-better-to-do-with-my-life.' She's had me memorizing every single berry in her den and all of the remedies, poultices, pulps, mixes and herb techniques. Mind you, I'm still learning lots."

She gave a dramatic moan and flopped onto her back once more. "Suffering can do a cat good."

Fireheart rolled his green eyes, cheered by her outburst of lively spirit and enthusiasm. "I had it worse off," he scoffed with an overly-airy twitch of his whiskers. "When I was your age I had to look after her all on my own. Bring her food, change her soiled bedding, attend to her every need... sure is nice being a warrior though." He flicked his tail in fake smugness and lingered on the word.

"Cheeky tomcat," Cinderpaw groaned, rolling onto her belly with a grunt of effort. "You can't really learn stuff from feeding her, compared to the way I am. Let me show you."

The gray she-cat heaved herself to her paws and wobbled toward the cleft in the rock face where Yellowfang lived and worked. Passing the fallen log, she called over her shoulder, "Wait right here!" and vanished beyond his range of sight, lichen brushing over her spine.

Fireheart arranged himself into a careful crouch, sincerely interested. Ravenpaw's advice still called out to him like the tendrils of a fading dream: "It's just learning enough so that the necessary precautions can be obtained."

Before he could ponder anymore on these troublesome thoughts a new noise roused his curiosity: Cinderpaw was shoving herbs out of the den with her paws. Neatness was apparently not a cause for celebration, as she was making a mess of leaves and flower petals in her wake as she tried to move them from the den. Her mouth was filled to the brim with a bundle of hairy dark-veined leaves, which explained her attempts to push the rest out.

"Let me help," Fireheart offered, leaping to his paws. As he bent over to nip up a dark scarlet-red berry Cinderpaw spat the leaves she had been carrying out of her mouth; yowling, "No!" with a well-aimed swipe of her paws she knocked the berries under the shelter of a fern. Fireheart jumped back in surprise. Cinderpaw rounded on him with her blue eyes bulging fearfully.

"Did you touch it?" she demanded sharply.

"N-no," stammered Fireheart, feeling wrong-footed. Where had his lively apprentice from seconds before gone? "Okay, I get it, you don't want help..."

"Yew," Cinderpaw meowed.

"Me what?"

"Not 'you', yew!" Cinderpaw snapped, shaking her fluffy gray head. "It's called deathberry because of the poison it drips with. One berry could kill a kit without immediate treatment. A few eaten by a warrior would mean instant death."

"Oh." Fireheart's ears laid back. "Oh..." He gave a feeble mew and shivered, realizing how close he had come to trying to pick them up with his mouth.

"Thank StarClan, you're a lucky tom," Cinderpaw rasped, giving his ears a quick lick. "No damage done, so you don't have to look like that."

Fireheart gave his chest fur a quick lick to hide his trembling whispers. Upon looking up, the ginger warrior asked cautiously, "If they're so poisonous, then why does Yellowfang keep them?"

Cinderpaw shrugged, bemused. "For emergencies, apparently," she mewed, looking away.

Surprised flashed through Fireheart. What healing purposes did the killing berries serve, if they couldn't be eaten? Before his thoughts could probe along that trail Cinderpaw's voice reluctantly dragged him back: "You said you wanted to see some of the herbs, right?"

"What?" Fireheart blinked in confusion. "Oh, yes! Of course."

"Mouse-brain," she sighed. "I didn't go through all this trouble for nothing." Indicating with her tail to the mis-matched veined leaves, Cinderpaw explained, "This is borage. It brings out milk in nursing queens. Yellowfang said it is incredibly bitter tasting."

She then nudged a wad of soaked moss and mewed, "Yellowfang always asks warriors to spare her the leftovers of their mice when they're done, so that she can extract some mouse-bile from the pouches in their stomachs. It's a useful tick remover. You should know, having to care for Yellowfang for a whole moon."

Fireheart's whiskers twitched. "Go on," she encouraged her, taking in everything she told him.

"Thyme is excellent for calming nerves in almost every case and easing up cramps and pain," Cinderpaw added, poking at a round-flowered plant with a heavy scent that reminded Fireheart of catnip.

"But wouldn't poppy seeds be better?" he wondered, thinking how the tiny black kernels could easily dispel pains and cramps. He didn't add his last choice words, For nursing queens, in case he gave too much away.

"Poppy isn't recommended for she-cats expecting kits or nursing them. They need to be able to feel the pain in order to know how hard they need to push."

"Oh."

"Juniper is great when you can't breathe or have a bellyache," Cinderpaw recited off of the top of her head speedily, "dried oak leaves stop infection, feverfew and lavender can both cool fevers or chills, and..." She stopped and gave him a thoughtful look. "Why so suddenly interested?"

Fireheart quickly settled his bristling fur. Trying to make a passable look of surprise, he shot back, "Look who actually listens to Yellowfang! You're the one telling me all of this stuff."

Cinderpaw blinked in wonder and awe. "I guess you are right," she mewed, sounding whole-heartedly surprised at her own behavior.

"How she can get you to sit still and listen is beyond me," Fireheart meowed inquiringly. "You never payed attention when we went training."

Cinderpaw spit mischievously. "Not that I can really go off chasing hedgehogs, but my leg keeps me from moving around a lot," she retorted. "So it helps to suffer for my knowledge."

Fireheart couldn't resist. "You shrewd little—"

"Fireheart?"

Fireheart held back a groan he was afraid might have escaped his throat. A pair of gray-blue shoulders followed the head that joined with Bluestar's torso, peering expectantly out of the fern tunnel. "I want a word with you," she addressed him without even a greeting.

Reluctantly Fireheart stood. Though Cinderpaw's gaze flooded with admiration Fireheart couldn't help but feel his pelt prickle with frustration. What could be so important that she had to chase after him this early in the morning?

"See you later, Cinderpaw," Fireheart meowed as he grudgingly ducked underneath the bristly ferns. They scratched at his pelt as he pushed out into clearing. Golden sunlight struck the damp camp. Though the snow here had vanished under the sun's constant glare, in the shelter of the forest trees it ran rampant.

Bluestar sat by the entrance to the camp, shuffling her paws anxiously over the ground, as if desperate to get going. Fireheart knew better, however; she was feeling awkward in his presence and was probably hoping to get it over with as badly as he did. It was her duty to her Clan to mold old ties back together and forge a bond with all ThunderClan members: Thus, they lived in each others' shadows day and night.

He padded over to her and met her gaze with a blaze of challenge. Bluestar flicked an ear uncomfortably.

"You'll be coming to the Gathering tonight," she mewed.

Surprised, the orange tomcat kept his paws rooted to the spot. If it had been only to inform of that then why had she dragged him away?

His other question was answered as Bluestar added, "I also want you for a morning hunting patrol."

"Just the two of us?" Fireheart asked, praying that she would give the answer other than the one he dreaded.

"Just us," echoed Bluestar quietly. The disappointment must have shown on his face because the Clan leader snapped, "It's nearing sunhigh; we can't spend all day doing nothing, Fireheart! There are cats to be fed and borders to be patrolled."

Her iciness stung him as much as it repelled him. Fireheart tried to shrug indifferently and instead settled for a cool stare. "Right," he mewed.

Without hesitation she sprang to her paws and charged through the gorse tunnel. More scratches added themselves to the collection on Fireheart's pelt as brambles snagged on his fur.

"Where are we going?" he called after her, wincing, as the last few twigs snapped him in the face. He made a mental note to boss the apprentices around later—Dustpaw especially—and have them shave down the gorse tunnel until cats could get through without hurting themselves.

"We'll be hunting our way up to the sandy hollow," Bluestar answered curtly. "From there we shall be joining Tigerclaw, Whitestorm and Darkstripe to oversee a fighting assessment."

Being in the company of three cats I really want to see fall over a cliff right now is going to do my stress wonders. Really, no problems here, Fireheart snarled silently. They kept walking along the once-leafy trail that led to the stream and training hollow. Fireheart topped this sentence off with all the curses that occurred to him. Mouse-brained, feather-headed, fox-hearted, mangepelt...

"Be careful!" snapped Bluestar, as Fireheart accidentally bumped into her from behind. She gave him a piercing glare over her backside. "What has gotten you so distracted that you can't even see where you're..."

Bluestar's mouth gaped open in a defiant, frozen look. Her sentence died away so that the blue-gray queen didn't dare utter another word but merely looked sickened with herself. Fireheart felt a nerve snap somewhere in the back in his mind.

"Lost any kits recently?" he meowed bitterly, bile rising in his throat. Bluestar's eyes widened slightly and she shook her broad head. Why was there a reminiscent gleam there?

Fireheart merely barred his teeth and brushed past her, slumping ahead north-westward in the direction of Fourtrees. "I'll see you at sunhigh," he meowed as calmly as he could. His legs were trembling with rage.

A final glance back at Bluestar told him all that she was feeling. A storm of anger and guilt were battling at their strongest elements, gushing off her pelt like waves: the respect Bluestar felt that her warriors should show her, and the desperation of succumbing to the will of her Clan and the heavenly one above.

Snow crunched under Fireheart's aching pads as he bounded past the stalks of leaf-bare trees. Heart thumping, the kittypet skidded to a halt somewhere in a shaded clearing where the surrounding branches were at its thickest. Beyond the thistle thickets and bushes he could hear Twoleg monsters rumbling up and down the Thunderpath at intervals. I must have put a good distance between us, he thought determinedly. Time to hunt.

Fireheart perked his ears and willed himself to fall silent. Despite the muffle the carpet of fresh snow caused, he could still detect the faint scurrying of smaller paws. Blinking, the flame-pelted warrior felt the frantic beating of a nearbye thrush propelled to him through the ground. He could hears it wings rustle. Crouching, he skulked light-footed a few tail-lengths until a few strands of grass poking through the snow tickled his nose. He held back a sneeze, now trying to pinpoint his prey.

Without realizing he was there the thrush continued poking around the roots of a beech tree for nuts or insects. Fireheart balanced his weight and prepared to spring forward and capture the unwary prey beneath his claws.

A rustle in the heather clumps behind him caused the thrush to spread its wings and take off, setting off an alarm call all the prey between Fourtrees and the Sunningrocks would hear. Bunching his muscles as much as possible he sprang. His outstretched paws brushed its tail feathers before he hit the ground chest-first.

Blind anger made Fireheart's tail bristle. He spun on his paws noisily and whipped his head around, catching the outline of something large pushing its way through the foliage, away from him. For a moment Fireheart's fury was gilded by surprise, too. Go catch your own prey! he thought, sheathing his claws, expecting to catch a flit of Bluestar's scent in the brush...

It never came. The snowfall around him masked its scent almost completely, but the outline of the animal he had seen was definitely a cat. The blood in his ears pounded like a torrent of gushing water. Is it a ShadowClan warrior? Had Tigerclaw been right after all?

If they attacked him he would be outnumbered if its friends were near. Bluestar was too far away to call to help for now that he had put so much space between them. And if she heard him, it might be too late...

Terror made him shiver.

"I've got to make the first move," Fireheart decided in a quiet undertone. "It hasn't seen me yet."

Scent alone told him the cat had moved ahead, drawing nearer to the Thunderpath. Light as a leaf he snaked through a shortcut to cut the cat ahead of him off. Musty odors drifted off the ice-layered road; Fireheart paused, lowering his stiff body below a few fern clumps. He could see the black cat now, small and agile, picking its way cautiously over the snow with its mouth open in excitement. Fireheart braced himself before he sprang through the bushes and took the cat full pelt.

The pair tussled over the snow, Fireheart breathing heavily and pausing to draw in breath and caterwaul. His opponent seemed more out of shape, so he theorized it might have been a rogue, not a seasoned warrior. The cat clinging to his back writhed as Fireheart dislodged the black tom, using his body weight to throw him off. Limp, the other tomcat fell into the slush. Fireheart planted unsheathed claws on his attacker's chest and glared down into the bedraggled face, taken aback completely after he met the loner's green eyes. A white crest of fur tipped his opponent's chest.

"Ravenpaw?"

"It's nice to see you too," Ravenpaw grunted. Where claw had met skin above his left eye a thin drop of blood was trickling down his muzzle. "You've raked me to shreds."

Fireheart sheathed his claws. "Sorry," he apologized hastily, still completely bewildered.

"You great lump! Off, please!"

Fireheart shook snow from his pelt as he clambered off more gently this time. Ravenpaw sat up, looking like he had white speckles all over his dark coat.

"You look like you were caught in a snowstorm," joked Fireheart.

Ravenpaw stretched a hind leg stiffly. "It felt like it," the black cat agreed. He blinked warmly up at his friend. "Thank StarClan it was you who attacked me, and not Darkstripe or Tigerclaw. I was so nervous of setting paws here in case another cat spotted me. Being black, I don't really blend in, do I? I'm supposed to be dead too. Cats might get sort of jumpy if they saw me."

Fireheart gaped. "Why are you here?" he asked uncertainly, wondering if it was bad news about Cloudkit. Violent shivers made his fur stand on end.

Ravenpaw quickly shook specks of frost off of his pelt. Freezing droplets still clung to the end of his long whiskers. "Everything's fine, I'm just passing on news," the loner answered calmly.

Fireheart dropped all pretenses. "So Cloudkit's okay?" he meowed anxiously, his belly tightening.

"Still as cute as can be," Ravenpaw promised. The black cat's whiskers twitched in amusement. "Violet has been nursing him. She's taking on to him well and glad to help out a friend. I've been wanting to pass on this message for a few days, and I didn't know wether to wait until I saw a patrol or go directly into Thunder—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Fireheart interrupted, lashing his tail over his friend's mouth momentarily. "What do you mean by 'a few days'?"

"I forgot," Ravenpaw mewed absently while shaking his sleek, compact head. "I've been camping out at Fourtrees for four sunrises now on this side of the hollow. Today I felt a bit more bold and ventured nearer to the Thunderpath to keep an eye out for you."

If Tigerclaw saw you, he'd never think you were his former apprentice, Fireheart thought. The black cat who had once been his denmate had evolved not only in looks, but personality too. When he had faced the whole of WindClan he hadn't even flinched; but actually daring to counter cats from his former Clan just to deliver a message? Gratitude warmed his weighed-down heart and lifted his spirits rather dramatically.

"Thank you," Fireheart purred, quickly scenting the air. The rank odors of the Thunderpath drowned most other smells. "But you should be more careful! If you had stayed any longer after midnight you would have had a rather rude awakening—tonight is the Gathering!"

"What?" Ravenpaw's fur bristled. "Mouse-dung! I haven't looked up at the moon to check its phase in so long; not since I left ThunderClan, anyway. Then I better get going. Oh!" His green eyes widened. "I've got another message to pass on to you from Silverstream."

"You've seen Silverstream?" Fireheart meowed in surprise, taken aback.

"Just in passing. I met her near the border, and I can see why Graystripe likes her," Ravenpaw added sleekly. "Beauty, brawn and brain. You don't find a lot of she-cats like that inside or outside the Clans."

"Ignoring that," Fireheart meowed with great restraint in rolling his eyes. "How did she know you were—well, you? You're supposed to be dead."

Ravenpaw gave his chest fur a self-conscious lick. "At first she thought I was an enemy warrior. I had to quickly relay everything about you and Graystripe to her while she tried to claw my ears off. But I knew it was her, because before I had caught her on her own a mottled warrior had said, 'I'll meet you by the Twoleg bridge, Silverstream.'"

"Leopardfur," Fireheart gasped, in his mind picturing the golden-tabby deputy. "So what did Silverstream say?"

"First she told me that she was sorry for giving me all of those bites," Ravenpaw meowed half-jokingly. He twisted his side around so that Fireheart could see freshly-healed teeth marks and scratches down one flank. Fireheart winced.

"I may just have to agree with you on the 'tough' part..."

Ravenpaw snorted. "Those muscles aren't for show!" he mrrowed, instantly snapping back into a more serious air. "Anyway, I passed on the idea for the plan and she was delighted. She said she'll gladly look after Cloudkit."

Giddy relief made Fireheart loosen himself and stare at Ravenpaw in a dazed, ecstatic sort of way. Cloudkit was actually going to be part of a warrior Clan.

"That's great," the flame-coated warrior purred.

"That's not all," meowed Ravenpaw patiently, flicking his tail-tip like a metronome over the snowy ground. "I had also let her know that I was planning to stay until I made contact with you, and Silverstream asked if I could deliver a message."

Fireheart's ears twitched, gazing at him expectantly. "Can I have it, please?"

As if he had learned it by heart, Ravenpaw recited excitedly, "Silverstream told me that she had gone to Mudfur for a check-up, and by the sounds of it she'll be due for her kitting very soon. So in that odd number of days, on the morning—sunhigh, evening, whatever time it may be—she knows that the litter is coming she'll go to Fourtrees. It's your and Graystripe's job to send a runner for me and Barley to fetch Cloudkit while one of you stays behind to help with the kitting, and to keep in contact until it's time. Keep checking with Silverstream so that you'll be ready. On the next day she'll be able to return to the island, making it sound as though her litter had been born outside RiverClan's camp."

Ravenpaw took an unsteady breath after his long speech, looking inquiringly at Fireheart.

"So that's it?" Fireheart asked unsteadily, his brain buzzing with all the new information he had learned like an angry swarm of bees.

"I suppose so," Ravenpaw mused, giving himself a brisk shake. "So I'll be seeing you again soon, I suppose." He smiled. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," Fireheart urged, brushing muzzles with the loner cat. With a departing wave of his tail Ravenpaw retraced his paw steps, calling, "StarClan speed," before disappearing over the rise and back toward WindClan's side of Fourtrees.

---

Into the spider's snare.

Fireheart squeezed out of a bramble bush just as sunhigh came, dawning a dazzling pale gold that made the snow shimmer. As he impatiently shook slush from his paws and crouched in a more comfortable way, the grass across from him rustled: Out stepped Bluestar, dragging in the snow a scrawny mouse.

For some odd reason Fireheart felt satisfied that he had managed to find better fresh-kill: a single, unlucky wood pigeon and water vole, captured close to the Sunningrocks.

His leader blinked and eyed the prey, looking almost passably hungry before resuming her quiet, uncomfortable, blue-eyed stare.

"...Good hunt?" Bluestar managed to ask after a few seconds of tense silence.

"I suppose so." Fireheart made a meal of giving his ears a brief wash to avoid her penetrating, slightly desperate stare.

For something to do the gray-blue warrior queen began to kick up snow with her back and front paws, scrabbling in the slush until she had dug a pit. With quick pushes the upturned snow fell with a muffled thump over her fresh-kill. Fireheart decided on doing something sensible and began to bury his prey too.

Finished, he sat up again and began to root out clumps of frozen earth between his claws while Bluestar watched with a nervous expression. At last she broke the monotony with an edgy mew: "Before we go to the sandy hollow, I'd like to discuss something with you. What concerns me, Fireheart, is that you haven't made up after your fight with Graystripe. I don't want my Clan fighting each other." The two cats locked eyes.

Fireheart returned her pleading look coldly. "We have," he meowed shortly, pushing himself to his paws. He gave her one final look, feeling all his bitter resentment, despair and anguish flood into his gaze, before uprooting himself and padding into the training area beyond the frozen stream. His shoulders pushed back the ice-encrusted, dying ferns—dying, just like his faith in StarClan, the respect he had once held to almost reverence for his leader, his love for ThunderClan, and everything else . . .