A Dangerous Path (21 page)

Fireheart halted and watched miserably as Sandstorm got to her paws and led the way over to the pile of prey. Graystripe followed her, casting a worried glance at Fireheart as he went.

Seeing Sandstorm turn her back on him, Fireheart felt bitter disappointment welling up inside him. However hard he tried, all his attempts to rekindle the old bond between him and Sandstorm seemed to be failing, and he missed her with a loneliness that could not be comforted by any of the other cats that thronged around him.

“Keep well back,” Brackenfur warned. “This
is a dangerous place.”

He and Fireheart, with their two apprentices, were standing at the edge of the Thunderpath. Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw wrinkled their noses against its bitter smell.

“It doesn't look dangerous to me,” meowed Bramblepaw. Tentatively he reached out one paw to place it on the dark, stony surface.

At the same moment, Fireheart felt the ground tremble with the roar of an approaching monster. “Get back!” he snarled.

Bramblepaw leaped back into the safety of the verge as the monster flashed past, buffeting his fur with hot, stinking wind. He was quivering with shock.

Tawnypaw's eyes were wide with astonishment. “What
was
that?” she mewed.

“A monster,” Fireheart explained. “They carry Twolegs in their belly. But they never leave the Thunderpath, so you're quite safe—as long as you stay away from it.” He fixed Bramblepaw with a stern gaze. “When a warrior tells you to do something, you do it. Ask questions if you like, but
afterward
.”
Bramblepaw nodded, scuffling his paws. “Sorry, Fireheart.”

He was already recovering from the shock; Fireheart had to admit that many more experienced cats would have been terrified to find themselves so close to a monster. Since they had left camp that morning, Bramblepaw had shown himself to be brave, curious, and eager to learn.

Sandstorm, Graystripe, and Whitestorm had gone out on the dawn patrol, while Fireheart and Brackenfur gave their apprentices the tour of the territory. Fireheart had found himself moving with extra stealth along the once-familiar trails, haunted by shadows and afraid at any moment that he would come face-to-face with the dark presence in the forest.

He had kept well away from Snakerocks, unwilling to risk that accursed place with two new apprentices. Soon, he knew, he would have to do something about the threat that lurked there, but he was waiting until Lostface was well enough to tell them exactly what had attacked her. And deep down Fireheart couldn't help wondering if, even when they knew, his warriors would be able to deal with it.

“What's over there?” Tawnypaw flicked her tail at the part of the forest on the other side of the Thunderpath.

“That's ShadowClan territory,” Brackenfur told her. “Can you smell their scent?”

A chill breeze was carrying the scent of ShadowClan toward them. Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw opened their mouths to taste it.

“We've smelled that before,” announced Tawnypaw.

“Oh?” Brackenfur shot a startled glance at Fireheart.

“When Darkstripe brought us to the border to meet our father,” explained Bramblepaw.

“I spotted them.” Fireheart wanted Brackenfur to know that this wasn't news to him. “I suppose we can't blame Tigerstar for wanting to see them,” he added, forcing himself to be charitable.

Brackenfur didn't reply, but he looked faintly worried, as if he shared Fireheart's misgivings about Tigerstar's relationship with these ThunderClan kits.

“Can we go over there now and see our father?” Tawnypaw asked eagerly.

“No!” Brackenfur sounded shocked. “Clan cats don't go into each other's territory. If a patrol caught us, there would be big trouble.”

“Not if we told them Tigerstar's our father,” Bramblepaw insisted. “He wanted to see us last time.”

“Brackenfur told you no,” Fireheart snapped. “And if I catch either of you setting one paw across the border, I'll have your tails off!”

Tawnypaw jumped back as if she thought he was going to carry out the threat there and then.

Bramblepaw's amber eyes searched Fireheart's face for several heartbeats. “Fireheart,” he meowed hesitantly, “there's something else, isn't there? Why will no cat talk to us about our father? Why did he leave ThunderClan?”

Fireheart stared down at his apprentice. He couldn't see any way of avoiding such a direct question. Long ago, he had promised Goldenflower that he would tell her kits the truth,
but he had hoped for a bit more time to think out exactly what he would say.

He exchanged a quick glance with Brackenfur, and the younger warrior murmured, “If you don't tell them, some other cat will.”

He was right, Fireheart realized. The time had come for him to fulfill his promise to Goldenflower. Clearing his throat, he meowed, “All right. Let's find a place to rest and I'll tell you.”

He retreated several rabbit-hops from the Thunderpath until he came to a dip in the ground sheltered by a few clumps of fern, brown and broken now in the frosts of leaf-bare. The two apprentices followed, their eyes wide and curious.

Fireheart checked that there was no smell of dog before settling down in a patch of dry grass, tucking his paws under his chest. Brackenfur remained at the top of the slope, keeping watch for danger, from the dog or from ShadowClan territory so close by.

“Before I tell you about your father,” Fireheart began, “I want you to remember that ThunderClan is proud of you. You'll both make fine warriors. What I'm going to say now won't make any difference to that.”

The apprentices' curiosity changed to uneasiness as they listened. Fireheart knew they must be wondering what was coming next.

“Tigerstar is a great warrior,” he went on. “And he always wanted to be leader of a Clan. Before he left ThunderClan, he was deputy.”

Bramblepaw's eyes glowed excitedly. “When I'm a warrior, I'd like to be deputy too.”

Fireheart's fur prickled at this evidence of his apprentice's ambition, so like Tigerstar's. “Be quiet and listen.”

Bramblepaw dipped his head obediently.

“As I said, Tigerstar has always been a great warrior,” Fireheart continued, forcing each word into the cold air. “But there was a fight with RiverClan over Sunningrocks, and Tigerstar used the battle to kill Redtail, who was the ThunderClan deputy then. He blamed a RiverClan warrior, but we found out what really happened.”

He paused. Both apprentices were staring at him with disbelief and horror in their eyes.

“You mean…he
killed
a cat of his own Clan?” Tawnypaw faltered.

“I don't believe it!” Bramblepaw let out a desperate cry.

“It's true,” Fireheart meowed, feeling sick with the effort of telling these kits the truth about their father's treachery in a way that was loyal to their mother's insistence that the account be unbiased, and would not alienate the kits from their birth-clan. “He hoped he would be made deputy in Redtail's place, but Bluestar chose a cat called Lionheart instead.”

“Tigerstar didn't kill Lionheart as well?” asked Bramblepaw, his voice quavering.

“No, he didn't. Lionheart died in a battle with ShadowClan. Tigerstar became deputy then, but that wasn't enough for him. He wanted to be leader.”

He paused again, wondering how much to say. No need to burden these apprentices, he decided, with the tale of how Cinderpelt had been injured in a trap set by Tigerstar for Bluestar, or Tigerstar's attempts to murder Fireheart himself.

“He gathered a band of rogues from the forest,” he continued. “They attacked ThunderClan, and Tigerstar tried to kill Bluestar.”

“Kill
Bluestar!”
Tawnypaw gasped. “But she's our
leader!”

“Tigerstar thought that he could make himself leader in her place,” Fireheart explained, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “The Clan sent him into exile, and that's when he joined ShadowClan and became their leader.”

The two apprentices looked at each other. “So our father was a traitor?” mewed Bramblepaw softly.

“Well, yes,” Fireheart replied. “But I know it's hard to think about that. Just remember that both of you can be proud to belong to ThunderClan. And the Clan are proud of you, just as I said. You're not responsible for what your father did. You can be great warriors, completely loyal to your Clan and the warrior code.”

“But our father wasn't loyal,” Tawnypaw mewed. “Does that mean he's our enemy now?”

Fireheart met her scared gaze. “All cats from other Clans have to have their own interests at heart,” he told her gently. “That's what Clan loyalty means. Your father is loyal to ShadowClan now, just as it is your duty to be loyal to ThunderClan.”

There was silence for a few heartbeats, and then Tawnypaw drew herself up and gave her chest fur a few quick licks.
“Thank you for telling us, Fireheart. Is it…is it really true that the rest of the Clan are proud of us?”

“It really is,” Fireheart assured her. “Don't forget, the Clan discovered all this when you two were only newborns. And they've never wanted to punish you, have they?”

Tawnypaw blinked gratefully at him. Glancing at Bramblepaw, Fireheart saw that he was gazing up at the sky between the arching fronds of fern. There was no reading the emotion in his amber eyes.

“Bramblepaw?” Fireheart meowed uneasily. The young cat did not respond. Wanting to reassure him, Fireheart went on, “Work hard and be loyal to your Clan, and no cat will blame you for what your father did.”

Bramblepaw's head whipped around; his eyes glared at his mentor with all the hostility that Fireheart had once seen in Tigerstar. He had never looked more like his father. “But that's not true, is it?” he hissed. “
You
blame us. I don't care what you're saying now. I've seen the way you look at me. You think I'll be a traitor just like he was. You'll never trust me, whatever I do!”

Fireheart stared at him, unable to deny the young cat's accusations. For a few heartbeats he had no idea what to say. While he hesitated, Bramblepaw sprang to his paws and blundered through the ferns to the top of the hollow, where Brackenfur was waiting. Tawnypaw cast one scared look at Fireheart and scurried after her brother.

Fireheart heard Brackenfur meow, “Ready to go? Let's head along the border up to Fourtrees.” He paused and called
out, “Fireheart, are you ready?”

“Coming,” Fireheart replied. His heart was heavy as he rose and followed the apprentices. Had he managed to explain to them the true meaning of loyalty, or had he simply succeeded in pushing them further away from ThunderClan, and from him?

 

As he and Brackenfur led the apprentices back through their territory, Fireheart kept watch for any signs of the mysterious evil in the forest. He saw nothing; there were no unusual scents, and no signs of scattered prey. The evil, whatever it was, had gone to ground again, and somehow that made Fireheart more afraid. What was it that could wreak such terrible damage, and then fade into the depths of the forest as if it had never been?

I must talk to Lostface as soon as I can
, he decided. The cats were still being hunted, he was sure of that, and it was only a matter of time before another one was caught.

Early the next morning, Fireheart emerged into the clearing to find the dawn patrol getting ready to leave. Graystripe and Sandstorm were waiting beside the entrance to the gorse tunnel, while Dustpelt was calling Ashpaw from the apprentices' den. Fireheart hurried toward the entrance, but before he reached it he heard Sandstorm meow loudly to Graystripe, “I'm tired of hanging about. I'll meet you at the top of the ravine.” Without looking at Fireheart she whipped around and disappeared.

Sadness almost overwhelmed Fireheart, and he halted at
the mouth of the gorse tunnel, tasting the last of Sandstorm's scent as she retreated.

“Give her time,” Graystripe meowed, touching his nose to Fireheart's shoulder. “She'll come around.”

“I don't know. Ever since the meeting with WindClan…”

He stopped as Dustpelt and Ashpaw hurried up, and stood back to let the rest of the patrol follow Sandstorm. At least, Fireheart told himself, Dustpelt seemed to be reconciled to Graystripe's return, to the extent of going on patrol with him. Perhaps time was all his friend would need to truly be part of the Clan again.

Fireheart padded across the clearing to Cinderpelt's den. Lostface was seated in a patch of sunlight with Cloudtail beside her, gently washing her. The wounds along her sides were healing cleanly, and her ginger-and-white fur was beginning to grow back, and as he approached Fireheart thought for a single heartbeat that she was almost back to normal. Then she lifted her head, and for the first time he saw the damaged side of her face without its covering of cobwebs.

Freshly healed scars were stretched across Lostface's cheek, bare flesh where no fur would ever grow. Her eye was gone, and her ear was reduced to a few shreds. Fireheart realized how dreadfully apt the name Lostface was, and remembered her as she had been before, bright and lively. Anger burned deep in his belly. Somehow he must drive this evil out of the forest!

Lostface let out a faint whimper as Fireheart approached, and shrank closer to Cloudtail.

“It's okay,” Cloudtail mewed softly. “It's only Fireheart.” Looking up at his former mentor, he explained, “You came up on her blind side. She's scared when cats do that, but she's getting better every day.”