Aaaand - here it is! The finale of Forest of Secrets! Thank you all so much for trudging through this with me - it's still a lot of fun and a great test of my skills. I'm not sure when Rising Storm will be ready, but I'm sure it'll be around by at least next month. I've got a lot of work to do on other stories, including BoT, and something else I may or may not do in the meantime. One never knows, with me!

Thank you all again for sticking through, you've been amazing, and enjoy!

Chapter 30

"Well, deputy," Whitestorm wondered. The white warrior was standing before him, a beacon in the bleak morning. "What do you want me to do?"

His tone was genuine, not sarcastic. Yet Tinyclaw couldn't help but thinking that the white warrior ought to be angry – he would have made a much better choice, not Tinyclaw. Yet Whitestorm's gaze held no contempt, but respect, and Tinyclaw took a deep breath. Perhaps this would not be so bad, with warriors like him for support.

Tinyclaw glanced around the camp. For a fearful moment, he realized he was wondering what Bluefur would do in a situation like this. The aftermath of a battle, the camp in shambles… What would she have done? "We need food," Tinyclaw decided, shakily.

He pushed his doubts aside. The Clan was already shaken enough – they didn't need him to be fretting. "Cloudpaw, take fresh-kill to the elders," Tinyclaw ordered. "Get the other apprentices to help the queens." With a flash, the apprentice was off.

"Longtail, take some warriors and go on a hunting patrol," Tinyclaw went on. The pale tabby warrior regarded him evenly, before nodding. Dustpelt and Mousefur joined him. "Keep an eye out for Bluefur and Darkstripe, and those rogues. Be careful."

Longtail said nothing, but his gaze held no ounce of respect. Dustpelt was openly hostile, lashing his tail as he followed. Mousefur sighed, but followed Longtail out of the camp. Tinyclaw stared after them – Dustpelt and Longtail had been close to Darkstripe and Bluefur, and working with them from here on out would be torturous at best.

"They need time," Whitestorm offered quietly. "But keep an eye on them all the same."

Tinyclaw recalled when Darkstripe had tried to drown him, and how Longtail had saved him. He offered, "I think they're more loyal to the Clan than they are Bluefur… but you're right. I'll be careful."

Whitestorm nodded.

Tinyclaw looked to him. "Will you lead another hunting patrol?" he asked. "We need to get restocked, and I'm worried…" If the other patrol ran into Bluefur or Darkstripe or the rogues, they would need backup.

Whitestorm nodded. "Of course." He flicked his tail and a few warriors picked themselves up from their mutterings to follow. Whitestorm left the camp… but Graystripe quickly replaced him.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his yellow eyes tired.

"Get some rest," Tinyclaw told him. He licked Graystripe around the ear. "Get a piece of fresh-kill for yourself and Silverstream, and go see your kits."

"I'll take this to Tigerstar," Brackenfur decided, catching Tinyclaw's attention. By his paws was a magpie, rolled off of what remained of the fresh-kill pile. "After all this Bluefur nonsense he needs to eat. I'll check on his wounds, too, and then get some food for Yellowfang."

Tinyclaw wondered if Yellowfang even felt like eating. But he meowed, "Thanks. If Yellowfang needs any help with anything, she has her pick of the apprentices."

"All right," Brackenfur meowed. His eyes glimmered at Tinyclaw. "You sure know how to make cats work, Tinyclaw." He bent down and took the magpie in his jaws – but with a yelp of shock he dropped it as soon as his tongue touched the feathers.

Tinyclaw rushed over and forced back bile – the magpie's flesh and feathers had fallen away, and inside it was rotted and writhing with maggots. Tinyclaw took a step back.

Brackenfur, however, stared down at the carcass, his amber eyes wide and his spine bristling. After a moment, his eyes flashed to Tinyclaw. "Crow-food amongst the fresh-kill," he murmured.

"It must have been a mistake," Tinyclaw insisted quietly, feeling a tremor of fear pass through him. He knew before he'd even spoke that any cat knew not to bring back such a vile thing. He looked up at Brackenfur and realized that the tom wasn't disgusted, but concerned.

"Is it a sign?" Tinyclaw wondered, quiet.

"I… I think so," Brackenfur stammered. He swallowed. "I… I was going to take this to… oh, StarClan, no…"

"What?" Tinyclaw pleaded.

"I was going to take this to Tigerstar," Brackenfur hissed, his tail lashing. He swallowed hard and insisted, "I'm not sure… StarClan hasn't said a thing to me since I saw them at the Moonstone, but… this…"

Tinyclaw nodded in agreement, fear in his belly. This is too coincidental to ignore, he finished. An omen for Tigerstar, possibly – oh, StarClan… It didn't take much thought to think of what it meant – that Tigerstar's leadership was rotting away from the inside, slowly, like maggots devouring crow-food. Tinyclaw's legs trembled.

"Bury it," Brackenfur insisted.

Tinyclaw only nodded.

Brackenfur turned back to the fresh-kill pile. "Don't say anything to anyone, Tinyclaw," he insisted. "Not until I figure this out. I'm going to take Tigerstar something better." Hesitantly, he took a mouse in his jaws. He waited, almost to see if it, too, would fall apart in his jaws. When it didn't, Brackenfur took off towards the Highrock.

Tinyclaw stared down at the vile magpie. Using his paws, he began nudging the carcass towards the dirtplace, trying desperately to ignore the horrible implications of it. No cat seemed to have seen the thing, and Tinyclaw couldn't relax even when it was buried at the very back of the dirtplace.

Does this really mean that ThunderClan's troubles aren't over? How much more can we take?

Sunhigh had come and gone, and the hunting patrols had come back without incident. The Clan was full-fed, and the day seemed to be promisingly warm. Tinyclaw watched the Clan going about their day, sharing tongues, and glanced at the Highrock. Tigerstar hadn't been seen since the deputy ceremony, and Tinyclaw wondered if he ought to talk to him about leading the Clan.

Before he could get to his paws, movement at the camp entrance caught his eye. In stepped Leopardfur, flanked by Brambleclaw, Blackclaw, and Tawnypelt.

Proof of how these cats had fought with ThunderClan was on each of them – Leopardfur bore a wound just healing on her side, while Blackclaw's ear was torn at the tip. Their mission had been to badger Tigerstar about Silverstream and her kits, but Tinyclaw wished that they'd just come to see if ThunderClan had been alright.

Tinyclaw sighed. He got to his paws and met Leopardfur and her entourage in the center of camp. Leopardfur was shocked at his body language, her eyes flashing as Tinyclaw greeted her as an equal, not the deputy of another Clan.

"We are here to speak with your leader," Leopardfur decreed, not missing a beat despite her initial shock.

Tinyclaw hesitated. Now was definitely not the best time to speak with Tigerstar – after everything that had happened yesterday, Tinyclaw knew his leader needed time to recover both mentally and physically. But, he reminded himself that the RiverClan cats had no idea what had happened with Bluefur's treachery. They had only come at the end, and then left just as quickly.

Yet it was not his decision to make, sending them away. He bowed his head and led them to the Highrock. He signaled for them to wait there while he went to fetch Tigerstar.

To his relief, Tigerstar was polishing off a piece of fresh-kill in his nest. He looked tired, still, but it seemed like a small spark of what had been shaken by Bluefur was returning. Tigerstar lifted his head when Tinyclaw entered and meowed, "Ah – there you are. We have much to discuss, you and I, and -"

"I know," Tinyclaw interrupted, "and I'll be happy to talk with you about all this – but right now, RiverClan is here."

Tigerstar swiped his tongue across his jaws. "I see," he rumbled. He got to his paws and shook out his coat, which looked freshly-groomed. "Very well; let us see what we can do with them."

Tinyclaw followed Tigerstar out into the clearing. By now most of the Clan was gathered up in a bunch, glaring at the RiverClan warriors. Graystripe and Silverstream were there, too, to Tinyclaw's shock. Silverstream was chatting with Tawnypelt, rubbing muzzles and purring at her friend.

Tigerstar ignored this and settled before the RiverClan patrol. Tinyclaw sat beside her. Conversations broke off abruptly as Leopardfur dipped her head to Tigerstar and meowed, "We have discussed at length about Silverstream and the kits. Two kits died yesterday, born too early. We have decided it was a sign – since Silverstream cannot nurse the kits herself yet, Greenflower has agreed to take them in until she can. The kits will be well cared for."

Tinyclaw looked to Graystripe, who didn't meet his eyes. Was he just going to sit there and say nothing?

"They are well cared for here," Tinyclaw offered.

Leopardfur ignored him. "Crookedstar has sent us to fetch Silverstream and the kits," she meowed, her tone direct. "Silverstream can walk now, thanks to your help; but Mudfur can take over the rest of her treatment."

"The river has gone down quite a lot as well," Tawnypelt offered. "The Twoleg bridge is intact and safe again, and we can all cross easily there. It would be safe for the kits to come back."

Leopardfur nodded in agreement. "Another sign, we think," she decided.

Tigerstar drew himself up. He was stiff, but outside he seemed like a leader again. "The kits are half-ThunderClan, and this situation is complicated," he rumbled. "Have you spoken with Graystripe and Silverstream about this?"

"We have," Leopardfur replied. "Silverstream is ready to go home."

Tigerstar glanced at Silverstream. "Is this what you want?" he asked. "Your kits will not know their father this way, you know."

Silverstream held her head high. "I know," she meowed. Despite her injury she still sounded just as proud as she had before.

Tinyclaw looked pleadingly at Graystripe. "Graystripe," he insisted, "you can't let this happen! These are your kits, too!"

Graystripe shook his head. "It's for the best," he meowed gravely. "I don't want wars fought because of me, Tinyclaw. The kits belong with their mother, and they'll at least have her." He looked up at Tinyclaw, his eyes flashing. "They'll know me, in the end. In some way."

Tinyclaw's heart plummeted. Was Graystripe just going to give up like this? Silverstream could just as easily stay here, with the kits! He looked to Tigerstar, who was nodding along quietly. Was Tigerstar not going to fight for Graystripe's right to see his kits?

Yet Tigerstar cautioned, "Graystripe… you know you may have to fight your kits one day?" His gaze slid over to Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt, both of whom didn't seem to notice. Tinyclaw froze – how many times had Tigerstar nearly killed his own kits in battle, and not even known it? "They will grow up loyal to another Clan, and to see them – or Silverstream - outside of a Gathering would break the warrior code."

Graystripe nodded. "I know," he meowed. "But enough cats have suffered for my mistakes, Tigerstar. I don't want any more suffering on my paws."

Tinyclaw was stiff. Graystripe was giving up Silverstream, too – did he not realize that? The cat that he loved more than life itself, the mother of his kits… gone! Forever! He'd never be able to go near the RiverClan border without some cat's eyes on him, and even at a Gathering he'd never be able to get close to them.

Does he realize what he's doing? Tinyclaw wondered. What he's giving up?

"Very well," Tigerstar meowed, bursting through Tinyclaw's inner turmoil. "Graystripe and Silverstream will bring the kits to you at sundown, at the Twoleg bridge."

Leopardfur frowned, but she assented, "I hold you to that."

She turned, and the dappled she-cat left, her patrol following behind. The Clan once again broke apart into mutterings, watching as Graystripe and Silverstream headed for the nursery. Tinyclaw watched them desperately, wondering what he could say – yet nothing came.

The sun slid down behind the trees. Tinyclaw waited beside the entrance, head full of thoughts of his friend – of the things he could say, or do, to make him feel better. There was no way Tinyclaw was letting Graystripe do this on his own, however – even with Silverstream by his side, Tinyclaw wanted to be there for his friend.

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned him, Graystripe appeared from the nursery. Behind him trailed Silverstream, walking slow and careful so as to not hurt herself further. Graystripe carried his daughter in his jaws, while his son stumbled ahead on shaky, not-all-there paws.

"Graystripe," Tinyclaw began – but Graystripe set down his daughter and interrupted him.

"You'll understand soon, Tinyclaw," Graystripe said quietly. "Will you take one of them? Silverstream can barely lift a mouse, let alone a kit."

Tinyclaw nodded. He picked up Graystripe's son, while Graystripe held his daughter so gently between his jaws. Together, they padded out of camp.

They walked together through the forest as the sun sank in red fire behind them. Silverstream kept them at a slow pace, walking between them so she was never far from her wriggling little kits. Each one cried and protested, as if they wanted to walk on their own paws – yet the group carried on in silence.

As the river – and the bridge – came into view through the trees, Tinyclaw longed to pin Graystripe to the earth and tell him that he didn't have to do this – that Silverstream could stay in ThunderClan, and that they'd fight for the kits. But Graystripe said he had a plan, and that thought festered in Tinyclaw's mind. What could he mean by that?

They stepped into the open. The Twoleg bridge stretched out before them, an unnatural placing of wooden pieces that lay suspended over the river. It was small, but sturdy enough to hold several Twolegs as they leaned over and threw stones into the waters below during greenleaf. Cats didn't often use it, but it was a safe crossing when the river was too high.

Tinyclaw and Graystripe set the kits down, and Silverstream settled near them, wrapping her tail around them and licking each one to quiet them. Graystripe brushed against Tinyclaw, and the two toms padded away a few paces.

"You're right, Tinyclaw," Graystripe meowed idly. He was looking out at the river. "I can't leave my kits, or Silverstream."

Tinyclaw's heart beat in his ears.

"That's why I'm going with them."

Tinyclaw's heart shattered.

"You can't!" he exclaimed. "Graystirpe, you… you…"

Graystripe sighed. "I know," he meowed. "But ThunderClan doesn't want me, not after what I did, and I… I'm not even sure if I want their forgiveness, Tinyclaw. I don't want to be around cats who will hate me forever just because I fell in love."

Tinyclaw struggled for something to say, but his mouth was dry.

"I know you want me around," Graystripe went on, "and Cinderpelt, and maybe a few others, but… it's not enough. I would do anything for you, Tinyclaw, but staying in ThunderClan just isn't something I can do."

Graystripe looked down at his paws. "I never knew my father," he meowed quietly. "I grew up wondering, wishing, imagining who he was, who he could be. My mother never told me. But one day… one day Darkstripe told me."

He took a deep breath. "Darkstripe is my half-brother, you know. Willowpelt was our mother." He swallowed. "But Darkstripe was so angry that the Clan liked me and ignored him, that he told me who my father was… and I was ashamed."

Tinyclaw frowned. For a moment he wondered if he ought to ask – but he knew better. Graystripe would not tell him such a thing.

"I felt so horrible about myself, even though every cat around me loved me and helped me through it all, I wished I'd never found out. And then you came, and oh Tinyclaw, no cat could ask for a better friend than you."

Graystripe looked at Tinyclaw, his eyes full of love. "When Silverstream told me she was going to have kits I vowed to be by their side, always. I want my kits to know who their father is, Tinyclaw. I don't want them to grow up like me, thinking that I'm a horrible cat because of what my parents did.

"Do you understand, Tinyclaw?" Graystripe wondered. "Do you understand why I cannot stay?"

Tinyclaw swallowed. Inside he screamed in sorrow – Graystripe had been his first friend in the Clans, and there was so much he owed the stocky warrior. They had done so much, discovered so much, together, and now…

Now it was all coming to an end.

"Yes," he meowed.

There was nothing he could say to convince Graystripe otherwise – the Clan still mistrusted him, and they would never truly accept the kits. Or Silverstream. All their lives they would hear whispers behind their backs, and Tinyclaw did not want that for his friend's kits, either. It was possible that the Clan would fight – but it would be for the Clan's honor, not for their love of Graystripe, or the kits. Lives might be lost for nothing, in the end.

Silverstream approached, the kits squealing after her and stumbling on their unsteady paws. She gave Tinyclaw a look of sorrow, as if she could never truly apologize for taking Graystripe away. She murmured, "It is time."

Tinyclaw swallowed. At the other end of the bridge was Tawnypelt, Silverstream's friend. The broad-shouldered she-cat had just appeared – or had she always been there? The sun had sank, and the sky had grown dark. Stars winked from the black.

Graystripe nodded. To Tinyclaw, he meowed, "I'll see you at the Gathering."

"It won't be the same," Tinyclaw managed, staring at his friend.

"It won't ever be the same," Graystripe murmured back.

Graystripe brushed his muzzle against Tinyclaw's. Tinyclaw relished the contact – the last time he and his friend could be affectionate without drawing suspicion. Then, Graystripe pulled away. Tawnypelt had crossed the bridge, and she and Silverstream touched noses before Tawnypelt picked up one of the kits. Graystripe took the other, and together the cats set off across the bridge, into RiverClan territory.

Tinyclaw stared after them. He stared, and stared, until the moon had risen high in the sky. Sorrow kept him from moving, from even blinking, as time stretched on into eternity. No more patrols, he thought, even as Graystripe was long gone. No more hunting, no more training apprentices together, or chatting over fresh-kill with Sandstorm and Runningwind.

It will never be the same.

It was moonhigh when Tinyclaw moved, and he headed back into the forest. Sadness and loneliness greater than anything he had ever known pierced him. First Ravenpaw, now Graystripe – and now he was alone in the Clans, truly alone. He had other friends, but none had been as close as those two.

But I have Sandstorm, he told himself. His stride increased. And Cloudpaw. And Whitestorm, and Tigerstar, and Runningwind and all the others who have their faith in me. I stopped Bluefur before she destroyed the Clan. I did. I did it, and I'm deputy now, and they're all counting on me to make things right.

With every thought Tinyclaw's speed increased, until he was racing through the woods, tail streaming behind him. The small black tom was a shadow against the ground as he leaped over fallen logs and dodged bushes with unerring accuracy. This was his home, this was where he belonged, and not every cat could ever feel that way.

I have a whole Clan to look after, and I cannot look back.