Fireheart sat in the hollow as the sun dropped behind the trees. The air was still warm even though long shadows stretched across the sand. It would be time for the evening meal soon. Fireheart began to wonder if Cloudpaw would return at all. Then he heard the rustle of bushes and the padding of small paws and knew Cloudpaw was approaching even before he smelled his scent.
The apprentice trotted into the clearing with his tail high and his ears pricked. He was carrying a tiny shrew in his jaws, which he dropped as soon as he saw Fireheart. “What are you doing here?” Fireheart heard reproach in the young cat’s voice. “I told you I’d be back by mealtime. Don’t you trust me?”
Fireheart shook his head. “No.”
Cloudpaw tipped his head to one side and looked hurt. “Well, I said I’d be back, and I am,” he protested.
“I saw you,” Fireheart meowed simply.
“Saw me where?”
“I saw you go into that Twoleg nest.” He paused.
“So?”
Fireheart was shocked almost to speechlessness by Cloudpaw’s lack of concern. Didn’t he realize what he’d done? “You were supposed to be hunting for the Clan,” he hissed, anger burning in his belly.
“I did hunt,” answered Cloudpaw.
Fireheart looked scornfully at the shrew that Cloudpaw had dropped on the ground. “And how many cats do you think that will feed?”
“Well, I won’t take anything for myself,” mewed Cloudpaw.
“Only because you’re stuffed with kittypet slop!” Fireheart spat. “Why did you come back at all?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I’m just visiting the Twolegs for food.” Cloudpaw sounded genuinely puzzled. “What’s the problem?”
Seething with frustration, Fireheart growled, “I can’t help wondering if your mother did the right thing in giving up her firstborn kit to be a Clan cat.”
“Well, she’s done it now,” Cloudpaw hissed back. “So you’re stuck with me!”
“I may be stuck with you as an apprentice, but I can keep you from becoming a warrior!” threatened Fireheart.
Cloudpaw’s eyes widened in surprise. “You wouldn’t! You couldn’t! I’m going to become such a great fighter that you won’t be able to stop me.” He glared defiantly at Fireheart.
“How many times do I have to tell you, there’s more to being a warrior than hunting and fighting. You have to know what you’re hunting and fighting for!” Fireheart fought back the fury that rose in his chest.
“I know what I’m fighting for. The same as you—survival!”
Fireheart stared at Cloudpaw in disbelief. “I fight for the Clan, not myself,” he growled.
Cloudpaw gazed steadily back at him. “Okay,” he mewed. “I’ll fight for the Clan, if that’s what it takes to become a warrior. It’s all the same in the end.”
Fireheart felt like clawing some sense into the mouse-brained young cat, but he took a deep breath and meowed as calmly as he could, “You can’t live with a paw in two worlds, Cloudpaw. You’re going to have to decide. You must choose whether you want to live by the warrior code as a Clan cat, or whether you want the life of a kittypet.” As he spoke, he recalled Bluestar saying exactly the same thing when Tigerclaw had spotted him talking to his old kittypet friend, Smudge, at the edge of the forest. The difference was that Fireheart had had no trouble recognizing where his loyalties lay. He had been a Clan cat from the moment he had stepped into the forest, in his own mind at least.
Cloudpaw looked taken aback. “Why must I choose? I like my life the way it is, and I’m not going to change it just to make you feel better!”
“It’s not just to make me feel better,” Fireheart spat. “It’s for the good of the Clan! The life of a kittypet goes against everything in the warrior code.” He watched incredulously as Cloudpaw ignored him and picked up his shrew, then marched past him toward the camp. Fireheart took a long breath, resisting the urge to chase Cloudpaw out of ThunderClan territory once and for all. Let him decide for himself. He repeated Sandstorm’s words under his breath as he followed his apprentice back to the camp. After all, he told himself desperately, Cloudpaw wasn’t doing any harm by eating kittypet food. He just hoped none of the other cats found out.
As they neared the gorse tunnel, Fireheart heard the clatter of dirt cascading down the ravine. He stopped and waited, hoping it was Sandstorm returning from her hunt, but a warm scent on the early evening air told him it was Cinderpelt.
The small gray cat jumped awkwardly down from the last rock. Her jaws were full of herbs and she was limping heavily.
“Are you okay?” Fireheart asked.
Cinderpelt dropped the herbs. “I’m fine, honestly,” she puffed. “My leg is playing up, that’s all, and it took me longer than I thought to find the herbs.”
“You should tell Yellowfang,” Fireheart meowed. “She wouldn’t want you overdoing it.”
“No!” mewed Cinderpelt, shaking her head.
“Okay, okay,” Fireheart agreed, surprised by the strength of her refusal. “At least let me carry these herbs for you.”
Cinderpelt blinked gratefully at him. “May StarClan banish all the fleas from your nest,” she purred, her eyes twinkling. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that Yellowfang is very busy. Willowpelt began her kitting this afternoon.”
Fireheart felt a flicker of anxiety. The last kitting he had seen had been Silverstream’s. “Is she okay?”
Cinderpelt glanced away. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I offered to collect herbs instead of helping.” A shadow crossed her face. “I…I didn’t want to be there…”
Fireheart guessed that she too was thinking of Silverstream. “Come on then,” he meowed. “The sooner we find out how she’s doing, the sooner we can stop worrying.” He quickened his pace.
“Hold on!” winced Cinderpelt, limping after him. “You’ll be the first to know if I make a miraculous recovery. But for now you’ll have to slow down!”
As they entered the camp Fireheart knew instantly that Willowpelt’s kitting had been a success. One-Eye and Dappletail were padding away from the nursery, their eyes soft with affection and their purrs audible even from this side of the clearing.
Sandstorm came dashing over to greet them with the good news. “Willowpelt had two she-cats and a tom!” she announced.
“How’s Willowpelt?” asked Cinderpelt anxiously.
“She’s fine,” Sandstorm assured her. “She’s feeding them already.”
Cinderpelt broke into a loud purr. “I must go and see,” she mewed, and hobbled toward the nursery.
Fireheart spat out his mouthful of herbs and looked around. “Where’s Cloudpaw?”
Sandstorm narrowed her eyes mischievously. “When Darkstripe saw what a measly catch he’d brought back, he sent him off to clean out the elders’ bedding.”
“Good,” Fireheart meowed, pleased for once with Darkstripe’s interference.
“Did you speak to Cloudpaw?” asked Sandstorm, her tone turning more serious.
“Yes.” Fireheart’s happiness at Willowpelt’s kitting disappeared like dew under the midday sun as he thought of his apprentice’s indifference.
“Well?” prompted Sandstorm. “What did he say?”
“I don’t think he even realizes he’s done anything wrong,” Fireheart meowed bleakly.
To his surprise, Sandstorm didn’t seem troubled. “He’s young,” she reminded Fireheart. “Don’t be too upset. Keep remembering his first catch, and that you share the same blood.” She gave him a gentle lick on the cheek. “With any luck it’ll show in Cloudpaw one day.”