Nearly sick with fear and shock, Fireheart forced himself to reply. “I don’t know, Bluestar.”
“But I do.” Now her voice was a low purr, with a strange note of amusement in it. Her gaze locked with Fireheart’s. “I know the best punishment of all. I’ll do nothing. I’ll let you be deputy still, and leader after me. Oh, that should please StarClan—a traitor leading a Clan of traitors! May they give you joy of it, Fireheart. Now get out of my sight!”
The last words were spat out. Fireheart backed away from her, into the clearing. He felt as if he had been in a battle after all. Bluestar’s despair pierced him like sharpened claws. But he couldn’t help feeling that Bluestar had let him down too, by not even trying to understand his motives; she had labeled him a traitor without even considering what would have happened if they had fought WindClan.
Head down, Fireheart padded across the clearing, not even aware that another cat had approached him until he heard Sandstorm’s voice.
“What happened, Fireheart? Has she sent you away?”
Fireheart looked up. Sandstorm’s green eyes were anxious, though she did not move close enough to comfort him with her touch.
“No,” he replied. “She didn’t do anything.”
“Then that’s all right.” Sandstorm sounded as if she were forcing optimism into her voice. “Why are you looking like that?”
“She’s…ill.” Fireheart couldn’t begin to describe what he had just witnessed in Bluestar’s den. “I’m going to get Cinderpelt to see her. Then maybe we can eat together.”
“No, I…I said I’d go hunting with Cloudpaw and Brindleface.” Sandstorm scuffled her front paws, not looking at him. “Don’t worry about Bluestar, Fireheart. She’ll be all right.”
“I don’t know.” Fireheart couldn’t repress a shiver. “I thought I could make her understand, but she thinks I betrayed her.”
Sandstorm said nothing. Fireheart saw her give him a quick glance and then look away. There was longing in her eyes, but it was mingled with uneasiness, and he remembered how she had resented deceiving Bluestar.
Does Sandstorm think I’m a traitor too? he thought desperately.
After Fireheart had sent Cinderpelt to Bluestar, he headed for the warriors’ den. He felt as if his legs could hardly hold him up, and he could think of nothing except sinking into the soft darkness of sleep. His heart sank when he saw Longtail stalking across the clearing toward him.
“I want a word with you, Fireheart,” he growled.
Fireheart sat down. “What is it?”
“You ordered my apprentice to go with you this morning.”
“Yes, and I told you why.”
“He didn’t like it, but he did his duty,” Longtail meowed harshly.
That was true, Fireheart reflected. He had admired the apprentice’s courage in a tough situation, but he wasn’t sure why Longtail was making such a fuss now.
“I think it’s time he was made a warrior,” Longtail went on. “In fact, Fireheart, he should have been a warrior long ago.”
“Yes, I know,” Fireheart replied. “You’re right, Longtail, he should.”
Longtail looked taken aback at his ready agreement. “So what are you going to do about it?” he blustered.
“Right now, nothing,” Fireheart meowed. “Don’t flatten your ears at me, Longtail. Just think, will you? Bluestar is distressed at the moment. She didn’t like what happened this morning, and she won’t want to think about promoting apprentices. No, wait.” He flicked his tail to silence Longtail as the pale warrior opened his mouth to protest. “Leave it with me. Sooner or later Bluestar has to realize that what happened was for the best. Then I’ll talk to her about making Swiftpaw a warrior, I promise.”
Longtail sniffed. Fireheart could see he wasn’t happy, but he couldn’t think of any reason to object. “All right,” the pale tabby warrior mewed. “But it had better be soon.”
He stalked off again, leaving Fireheart to head for his nest. As he curled into the soft moss, shutting his eyes tight against the early morning light, he couldn’t help worrying about the four older apprentices. Cloudpaw, Brightpaw, and Thornpaw all deserved to be warriors as well as Swiftpaw. And the Clan desperately needed them to take on full warrior duties. But in her present mood, convinced that she was surrounded by traitors, Bluestar would never agree to give them warrior status.
Fireheart’s dreams were dark and confused, and he woke to find that a cat was nudging him. A voice meowed, “Wake up, Fireheart!”
Blinking, he focused his eyes on Cinderpelt’s face. Her gray fur was ruffled and her eyes wide with anxiety; Fireheart was awake in a heartbeat.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s Bluestar,” Cinderpelt replied. “I can’t find her anywhere!”
Chapter 15
Fireheart sprang to his paws. “Tell me what happened.”
“When I saw her earlier this morning, I took her poppy seeds to calm her down,” Cinderpelt explained. “But when I went to her den just now, she wasn’t there, and she hadn’t eaten the poppy seeds. I tried the elders’ den and the nursery, but she isn’t there either. She isn’t anywhere in camp, Fireheart.”
“Did anyone see her leave?”
“I haven’t asked yet. I came to tell you first.”
“Then I’ll get the apprentices to search, and find out if—”
“Bluestar’s not a kit, you know.” The interruption came from Whitestorm, who had padded into the warriors’ den in time to hear Cinderpelt’s news. “She might have gone on patrol. For all you know, other cats are with her.” He spoke calmly as he bared his teeth in a yawn and settled into his nest.
Fireheart nodded uncertainly. What Whitestorm said was sensible, but he would have liked to be sure. After the state Bluestar had been in that morning, she could be anywhere in the forest. She might even have gone to RiverClan in search of her kits.
“There’s probably no need to worry,” Fireheart reassured Cinderpelt, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “But we’ll look anyway, and find out if any cat has seen her.”
Leaving the den, he spotted Fernpaw and Ashpaw sharing tongues near the blackened remains of the tree stump outside the apprentices’ den. Quickly Fireheart explained that he had a message for Bluestar, but he wasn’t sure where she was. The two apprentices dashed off willingly to look for her.
“You go and ask if any cat has seen her,” he suggested to Cinderpelt, who had followed him out of the den. “I’ll go up the ravine and see if I can pick up her scent. I might be able to track her.”
Privately he didn’t have much hope. While he had slept, clouds had covered the sky and a thin rain was drizzling down. It was not good weather for following scent. Before he could leave, Fireheart noticed that Sandstorm was just returning to camp, along with Cloudpaw and Brindleface. All three of them carried fresh-kill, which they went over to drop on the pile.
Fireheart raced up to them, with Cinderpelt limping behind. “Sandstorm,” he meowed, “have you seen Bluestar?”
Sandstorm swiped her tongue around her mouth to remove the prey juices. “No. Why?”
“She isn’t here,” mewed Cinderpelt.
Sandstorm’s eyes widened. “Are you surprised? After what happened this morning? She must feel like she’s losing control of her Clan.”
That was so close to the truth that Fireheart didn’t know how to answer.
“We’re going out again,” meowed Cloudpaw. “We’ll keep a lookout for her.”
“Okay, thanks.” Fireheart blinked gratefully at his apprentice.
The young white tom raced off again, with the two warriors following more slowly. Brindleface paused to meow, “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Fireheart,” as she left, but Sandstorm didn’t look back.