Fireheart went to sit beside her, feeling uncomfortable about the harsh way he had spoken to Bramblekit. “Have you told them that their father is leader of ShadowClan now?” he asked quietly.
Goldenflower gave him a quick glance. “No, not yet,” she admitted. “They would only boast about it, and then some cat would tell them the rest of the story.”
“Sooner or later they’ll find out,” meowed Fireheart.
The ginger queen vigorously washed her chest fur for a few moments. “I’ve seen the way you look at them,” she mewed at last. “Especially Bramblekit. It’s not his fault that he looks exactly like Tigerstar. But other cats look at him like that too.” Thoughtfully she licked her paw and drew it over her ear. “I want my kits to grow up happy, not feeling guilty because of something that happened before they were born. Maybe there’s more hope of that now, if Tigerstar becomes a great leader. Maybe they’ll even be proud of him in the end.”
Fireheart twitched his ears uncomfortably, unable to share her optimism.
“They both respect you, you know,” Goldenflower went on. “Especially since you saved Bramblekit from the fire.”
For a moment Fireheart didn’t know what to say. He felt guiltier than ever about his hostile feelings toward Bramblekit, yet however hard he tried he could not help seeing the murderous father in the young kit.
“I think you should tell them about Tigerstar,” Goldenflower meowed, turning an intense gaze on him. “You’re the deputy, after all. They would take it well from you—and I know you would tell them the truth.”
“You…you think I should tell them now?” Fireheart stammered. The way Goldenflower spoke made it sound like a challenge.
“No, not now,” replied Goldenflower calmly. “Not until you’re ready. And when you think they’re ready,” she added. “But don’t leave it for too long.”
Fireheart dipped his head. “I will, Goldenflower,” he promised. “And I’ll make it as easy for them as I can.”
Before Goldenflower could reply, Bramblekit came skidding up to his mother with Tawnykit just behind him. “Can we go and see the elders?” he asked, eyes shining. “One-eye promised to tell us some great stories!”
Goldenflower let out an indulgent purr. “Yes, of course,” she meowed. “Take her something from the pile of fresh-kill—that’s good manners. And mind that you’re back here by sunset.”
“We will!” meowed Tawnykit. She dashed off across the camp, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to fetch a mouse for One-eye!”
“No, you’re not, I am!” Bramblekit yowled, scampering after her.
“Well,” Goldenflower meowed, turning back to Fireheart, “if you can see anything wrong with those kits, tell me what it is, because I can’t.”
She got up, obviously not needing an answer, and shook each paw in turn before retreating into the nursery. Fireheart watched her go. Somehow he had managed to make himself unpopular with both Speckletail and Goldenflower; even though Goldenflower trusted him, she clearly found it hard to forgive him for his conflicting feelings about Bramblekit—and he was no nearer to sorting them out.
Sighing, he got to his paws, realizing it was time he sent out the evening patrol. As he turned away from the nursery he caught sight of Brackenfur, who was hovering nearby as if he wanted to speak to him.
“Is there a problem?” he asked the young warrior.
“I don’t know,” Brackenfur replied. “It’s just that I saw what happened there, with Speckletail’s kit, and—”
“You’re not going to tell me I was too hard on Bramblekit, are you?”
“No, Fireheart, of course not. But…well, I think there might be something wrong with Snowkit.”
Fireheart knew that the golden brown tom wouldn’t make a fuss about nothing. “Go on,” he urged.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Brackenfur explained. He scuffed the ground with his forepaws, an embarrassed look on his face. “I…I sort of hoped Bluestar might choose me to mentor him, and I wanted to get to know him. And I think there’s something the matter with him. He doesn’t play like the others. He doesn’t seem to respond when any cat talks to him. You know kits, Fireheart—noses into everything—but Snowkit’s not like that. I think Cinderpelt ought to have a look at him.”
“I suggested that to Speckletail and practically got my ears clawed.”
Brackenfur shrugged. “Maybe Speckletail won’t admit there could be anything wrong with her kit.”
Fireheart thought for a moment. Snowkit did seem slow and unresponsive compared with the other kits. He was much older than Goldenflower’s litter, but nothing like as well developed. “Leave it with me,” he meowed. “I’ll have a word with Cinderpelt. She’ll find a way of taking a look at the kit without upsetting Speckletail.”
“Thanks, Fireheart.” Brackenfur sounded relieved.
“Meanwhile,” Fireheart mewed, “can you lead the evening patrol? Ask Mousefur and Brindleface to go with you.”
Brackenfur straightened up. “Sure, Fireheart,” he replied. “I’ll go and look for them now.”
He set off across the camp with his tail held high. When he had gone a few fox-lengths, Fireheart called him back. “Oh, and Brackenfur,” he mewed, pleased for once to impart good news, “when Snowkit is ready, I’ll speak to Bluestar about letting you mentor him.”
Before Fireheart went to find Cinderpelt, he visited Bluestar to tell her about the apprentices’ assessment. The Clan leader was seated outside her den in a patch of sunshine, and Fireheart thought hopefully that she might be feeling more like her old self. But her blue eyes looked tired as she blinked at him, and a piece of fresh-kill lay beside her, only half-eaten.
“Well, Fireheart?” she asked as he approached. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got good news, Bluestar.” Fireheart tried to sound cheerful. “I assessed all four of the older apprentices today. They did well. I think it’s time they were made into warriors.”
“The older apprentices?” Bluestar’s eyes clouded with confusion. “That would be Brackenpaw, and…and Cinderpaw?”
Fireheart’s heart sank. Bluestar couldn’t even remember which cats were apprentices! “No, Bluestar,” he mewed patiently. “Cloudpaw, Brightpaw, Swiftpaw, and Thornpaw.”
Bluestar shifted a little. “That’s who I meant,” she snapped. “And you want them to be warriors? Just…just remind me who their mentors are, will you?”
“I’m Cloudpaw’s mentor,” Fireheart began, trying to keep his increasing dismay out of his voice. “The others are Longtail—”
“Longtail,” Bluestar interrupted. “Ah, yes…one of Tigerclaw’s friends. Why did we give him an apprentice, when we can’t trust him?”
“Longtail chose to stay in ThunderClan when Tigerclaw left,” Fireheart reminded her.
Bluestar snorted. “That doesn’t mean we can trust him,” she repeated. “We can’t trust any of them. They’re traitors and they’ll train more traitors. I won’t make warriors of any of their apprentices!” She paused as Fireheart stared at her, appalled, then added, “Only yours, Fireheart. You alone are faithful to me. Cloudpaw can be a warrior, but not those others.”
Fireheart didn’t know what to say. Even though the Clan seemed happy to have Cloudpaw back after his escapade with the Twolegs, Fireheart could foresee trouble if his apprentice was made a warrior and the other apprentices were not. Besides, it wouldn’t do Cloudpaw any good to be singled out for an honor that the others deserved just as much as he did.
Fireheart fought with rising panic as he realized that meant none of the apprentices could be made into warriors yet. Even though the Clan needed them so desperately, he knew there was no reasoning with Bluestar in this mood.
“Er…thanks, Bluestar,” he meowed at last, starting to back away. “But maybe we’ll wait awhile longer. A bit more training won’t hurt.”
He made his escape, leaving Bluestar looking after him with the same vague expression in her eyes.
CHAPTER 5
The sun was going down, casting long shadows across the clearing, by the time Fireheart went to look for Cinderpelt. He found the medicine cat in her den, checking her supplies of healing herbs, and sat just outside the entrance to talk to her.