At last the black apprentice crawled closer to Firepaw and whispered hoarsely into his ear, “Because the RiverClan deputy didn’t kill Redtail; Tigerclaw did.”
Firepaw nodded silently, and Ravenpaw continued, his whisper cracking with tension. “Redtail killed the RiverClan deputy—”
“So Tigerclaw didn’t kill Oakheart.” Firepaw couldn’t help interrupting.
Ravenpaw shook his head. “No, he didn’t! After Redtail had killed Oakheart, Tigerclaw ordered me back to the camp. I wanted to stay, but he yowled at me to go, so I ran into the trees. I should have carried on running, but I couldn’t leave while they were still fighting. I turned and crept back to see if Tigerclaw needed help. By the time I got near, all the RiverClan warriors had fled, leaving just Redtail and Tigerclaw. Redtail was watching the last warrior running away and Tigerclaw”—Ravenpaw paused, then gulped—“Tigerclaw j-jumped on him. He sank his teeth into the back of his neck and Redtail fell to the ground, dead. That’s when I ran. I don’t know if Tigerclaw saw me or not. I just kept running till I got back to the camp.”
“Why didn’t you tell Bluestar?” Firepaw pressed gently.
“Would she have believed me?” Ravenpaw’s eyes rolled wildly. “Do you believe me?”
“Of course I do,” Firepaw mewed. He licked Ravenpaw between the ears in an effort to calm and comfort his friend. He was going to have to find another opportunity to tell Bluestar about Tigerclaw’s treachery. “Don’t worry; I’ll sort it out,” he promised. “Meanwhile, make sure you stick close to me or Graypaw.”
“Does Graypaw know? About them wanting to get rid of me?”
“Not yet. But I’ll have to tell him.”
Ravenpaw settled silently onto his belly and stared ahead.
“It’s okay, Ravenpaw,” Firepaw purred, touching the skinny black body with his nose. “I’ll help you get out of this.”
Graypaw padded into the den at dawn. Sandpaw and Dustpaw had returned from their patrol a while ago and were asleep in their nests.
“Hi!” mewed Graypaw, sounding more cheerful than he had for days.
Firepaw woke at once. “You sound better,” he purred.
Graypaw licked Firepaw’s ear. “Spottedleaf put some gunk on my cut and made me lie still for hours. I must’ve fallen asleep. By the way, I hope that chaffinch out there was for me; I was starving!”
“It was. Ravenpaw caught it yesterday. Tigerclaw sent him into—”
“Shut up, you two,” growled Sandpaw. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Graypaw rolled his eyes. “Come on, Firepaw,” he mewed. “Brindleface has had her kits; let’s go and visit them.”
Firepaw purred with pleasure. At last, something for ThunderClan to celebrate. He looked down at Ravenpaw, who was still sleeping, and padded out of the den. With Graypaw, he trotted across the clearing toward the nursery. The rising sun made his pelt glow with warmth, and he stretched appreciatively, reveling in the suppleness of his spine and the strength in his legs.
“Stop showing off!” Graypaw called over his shoulder. Firepaw stopped stretching and bounded after his friend.
Whitestorm was sitting outside the nursery, guarding the entrance. “Have you two come to see the new kits?” he meowed as Firepaw and Graypaw approached.
Firepaw nodded.
“One at a time only, and you’ll have to wait; Bluestar’s with her now,” Whitestorm told them.
“Well, you can go first,” Firepaw offered. “I’ll go and see Yellowfang while I’m waiting.” He dipped his head respectfully to Whitestorm and headed off toward Yellowfang’s nest.
The old cat was washing behind her ears, her eyes half-closed with concentration.
“Don’t tell me you’re expecting rain!” Firepaw teased.
Yellowfang looked up. “You’ve been listening to too many elders’ tales,” she meowed. “What would be the point of a cat washing its ears if they’re only going to get rained on anyway?”
Firepaw’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Are you going to see Brindleface’s new litter?” he asked.
Yellowfang stiffened and she shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be very welcome,” she growled.
“But they know you saved—” Firepaw began.
“A she-cat is very protective of her newborns. Especially when it’s her first litter. I think I’ll stay away,” Yellowfang replied in a tone that invited no argument.
“As you wish. But I’m going to see them. It must be a good sign, having new kits in the camp.”
Yellowfang shrugged. “Sometimes,” she muttered darkly.
Firepaw turned and trotted back to the nursery. Clouds had covered the sun, making the air turn fresher. A fierce breeze tugged at his fur and rustled the leaves around the clearing.
Bluestar was sitting outside the nursery. Behind her, Graypaw’s tail was just disappearing into the narrow entrance. “Firepaw,” she greeted him. “Have you come to see ThunderClan’s newest warriors?” The ThunderClan leader sounded tired and sad.
Firepaw was surprised. Surely the kits were good news for ThunderClan?
“Yes, I have,” he replied.
“Well, when you’ve finished, come and see me in my den.”
“Yes, Bluestar,” Firepaw mewed as she walked slowly away. He felt his fur prickle. Here was another chance to speak to Bluestar alone. Perhaps StarClan was on his side, after all.
Graypaw crawled out of the nursery entrance. “They’re really cute,” he mewed. “But I’m starving now. I’m off to find some fresh-kill. I’ll save some for you if I find any!” He blinked affectionately at Firepaw and bounded away.
Firepaw purred a good-bye and looked up at Whitestorm, who nodded his permission for him to enter the nursery. Firepaw squeezed through the tiny entrance.
Four tiny kits huddled warmly in Brindleface’s deeply lined nest. Their fur was pale gray with darker flecks, just like their mother, except for one tiny dark gray tom. They mewled and squirmed beside Brindleface’s belly, their eyes shut tight.
“How are you feeling?” Firepaw whispered to her.
“A little tired,” answered Brindleface. She looked down proudly at her litter. “But the kits are all strong and healthy.”
“ThunderClan is lucky to have them,” Firepaw purred. “I was just talking about them to Yellowfang.”
Brindleface didn’t answer, and Firepaw couldn’t miss the look of worry that flashed in her eyes as she nudged a straying kit closer to her.
Firepaw felt a tremor of anxiety in his belly. Bluestar may have accepted Yellowfang into ThunderClan, but it looked like the old cat was still not trusted by all of the Clan. He touched his nose affectionately to Brindleface’s flank, then turned and made his way out into the clearing.
The Clan leader was waiting for Firepaw at the entrance to her den. Longtail sat at her side. The pale tabby warrior stared hard at Firepaw as he approached. Firepaw ignored his gaze and looked expectantly at Bluestar.
“Come inside,” she meowed, turning to lead the way. Firepaw trotted after her. Longtail immediately stood up as if to follow them.
Bluestar looked back at him over her shoulder. “I think I’ll be safe enough with young Firepaw,” she meowed. Longtail looked uncertain for a moment, then sat down again outside the entrance.
Firepaw had never been inside Bluestar’s den. He padded after her through the lichen that draped its entrance. “Brindleface’s kits are lovely,” he purred.
Bluestar looked serious. “Lovely they may be, but they mean more mouths to feed, and the season of leaf-bare will soon be here.” Then she glanced at Firepaw, who was unable to hide his surprise at her melancholy tone. “Oh, don’t listen to me,” meowed Bluestar, shaking her head impatiently. “The first cold wind always worries me. Come; make yourself comfortable.” She tipped her head toward the dry, sandy floor.