Rising Storm (Warriors 5)

Fireheart knew Cinderpelt well enough to know she was holding something back. “But they shared something with you, right?”

Cinderpelt gazed up at him, her blue eyes steady. “His destiny will be as important as that of any kit born to ThunderClan,” she mewed firmly.

Fireheart knew he wouldn’t be able to make Cinderpelt reveal what StarClan had told her if she didn’t want to. He decided to tell Cinderpelt about the other problem that was troubling him. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he confessed. “I have to decide who should be the mentors for Brindleface’s kits.”

“Isn’t that up to Bluestar?”

“She asked me to choose for her.”

Cinderpelt lifted her head in surprise. “Why are you looking so worried, then? You should be flattered.”

Flattered? Fireheart echoed silently, recalling the hostility and confusion in Bluestar’s eyes. He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not sure who to pick.”

“You must have some idea,” Cinderpelt prompted him.

“Not a clue.”

Cinderpelt frowned thoughtfully. “Well, how did you feel when I was named as your apprentice?”

Fireheart was caught off guard by the question. “Proud. And scared. And desperate to prove myself,” he replied slowly.

“Which one of the warriors do you think wants to prove himself most?” Cinderpelt mewed.

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. An image of a brown tabby flashed in his mind. “Dustpelt.” Cinderpelt nodded thoughtfully as he went on: “He must be dying to get his first apprentice. He was pretty close to Tigerclaw, so he’ll want to prove his loyalty to the Clan now that Tigerclaw’s been exiled. He’s a good warrior, and I think he’ll make a good mentor.” Even as he spoke, Fireheart realized he had a more personal motive for choosing Dustpelt. The tabby’s eyes had flashed enviously as Bluestar twice made Fireheart a mentor, first to Cinderpelt, then to Cloudpaw. Perhaps, Fireheart thought guiltily, giving Dustpelt an apprentice would soothe the warrior’s jealousy and make him easier to get along with.

“Well, then, that’s one chosen,” Cinderpelt mewed encouragingly.

Fireheart looked down into the medicine cat’s clear, wide eyes. She made it sound so simple.

“And what about the other?” asked Cinderpelt.

“The other what?” Yellowfang’s rasping mew sounded from the fern tunnel, and the dark gray she-cat padded stiffly into the clearing. Fireheart turned to greet her. As usual, her long fur looked matted and dull, as if caring for the Clan left her no time for grooming, but her orange eyes gleamed, missing nothing.

“Bluestar’s asked Fireheart to choose the mentors for Brindleface’s kits,” Cinderpelt explained.

“Oh, has she?” Yellowfang’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who’ve you come up with?”

“We’ve already chosen Dustpelt?” Fireheart began.

Yellowfang interrupted him. “We’ve?” she rasped. “Who’s we?”

“Cinderpelt helped,” he admitted.

“I’m sure Bluestar will be pleased that a cat who’s barely begun her apprenticeship is making such important decisions for the Clan,” Yellowfang remarked. She turned to Cinderpelt. “Have you finished mixing that poultice?”

Cinderpelt opened her mouth, then shook her head before wordlessly padding back to the pile of herbs in the middle of the clearing.

Yellowfang snorted as she watched her apprentice limp away. “That cat hasn’t answered me back for days!” she complained to Fireheart. “There was a time when I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The sooner she gets back to normal, the better it’ll be for both of us!” The old medicine cat frowned, then turned back to Fireheart. “Now, where were we?”

“Trying to decide who would be the second mentor to Brindleface’s kits,” Fireheart answered heavily.

“Who doesn’t have an apprentice?” rasped Yellowfang.

“Well, Sandstorm,” Fireheart replied. He couldn’t help feeling it would be unfair to give Dustpelt an apprentice without giving Sandstorm one too. After all, the two cats had trained together and earned their warrior names at the same time.

“Do you think it would be wise to have two inexperienced mentors at the same time?” Yellowfang pointed out.

Fireheart shook his head.

“So is there a more experienced ThunderClan warrior who doesn’t have an apprentice?” Yellowfang pressed him.

Darkstripe, Fireheart thought reluctantly. Every cat knew that Darkstripe had been one of Tigerclaw’s closest friends, even if he had chosen to stay with the Clan when the traitor had been sent into exile. Fireheart realized that if he didn’t choose Darkstripe to be a mentor, it might look as if he were taking revenge for the hostility that the warrior had shown him since he first came to ThunderClan. After all, Darkstripe was an obvious choice to take one of the apprentices.

Yellowfang must have seen the look of determination on Fireheart’s face, for she meowed, “Right, that’s sorted. Would you mind leaving me and my apprentice in peace now? We have work to do.”

Fireheart pushed himself to his paws, his relief that he had found two mentors tempered by the uneasy feeling that, while the chosen cats’ loyalty to the Clan was not in question, he was far less sure of their loyalty to him.

CHAPTER 3

“Have you seen Cloudpaw?” Fireheart emerged from the fern tunnel and called to Thornpaw, Mousefur’s apprentice. The ginger tom was trotting toward the pile of fresh-kill with two mice dangling from his jaws. He shook his head, and Fireheart felt a flash of annoyance. Cloudpaw should have been back ages ago.

“All right. Take those mice straight to the elders,” he ordered Thornpaw. The apprentice gave a muffled mew and padded quickly away.

Fireheart felt his tail bristle with anger at Cloudpaw, but he knew it was fear that made him so furious. What if Tigerclaw has found him? Feeling his alarm grow, Fireheart hurried to Bluestar’s den. He would tell her his decision about the mentors and then he could go and look for Cloudpaw.

At the Highrock, Fireheart didn’t pause to smooth his ruffled fur; he just called out and pushed his way through the lichen as soon as he heard Bluestar’s reply. The ThunderClan leader was crouching in her nest where he had left her, staring at the wall.

“Bluestar,” Fireheart began, dipping his head. “I thought Dustpelt and Darkstripe would be good mentors.”

The elderly she-cat turned her head and looked at Fireheart, then heaved herself up onto her haunches. “Very well,” she answered flatly.

A wave of disappointment broke over Fireheart. Bluestar looked as if she didn’t care whom he chose. “Shall I send them to you so you can tell them the good news?” he asked. “They’re out of the camp just now,” he added. “But when they return, I can—”

“They’re out of camp?” Bluestar’s whiskers twitched. “Both of them?”

“They’re on patrol,” Fireheart explained uncomfortably.

“Where’s Whitestorm?”

“Out training Brightpaw.”

“And Mousefur?”

“Hunting with Brackenfur and Sandstorm.”

“Are all the warriors out of camp?” Bluestar demanded.

Fireheart saw the muscles in her shoulders tense and his heart lurched. What was Bluestar afraid of? His thoughts darted back to Cloudpaw and the fear he had felt this morning in the silent forest. “The patrol’s due back soon.” Fireheart fought to stay calm as he tried to reassure his leader. “And I’m still here.”

“Don’t patronize me! I’m not some frightened kit!” spat Bluestar. Fireheart shrank back and she went on: “Make sure you stay in camp until the patrol returns. We’ve been attacked twice in the past moon. I don’t want the camp to be left unguarded. In the future I want at least three warriors to remain in camp all the time.”

Fireheart felt a chill shudder through his pelt. For once he did not dare meet his leader’s eyes, afraid that he wouldn’t recognize the cat he saw there. “Yes, Bluestar,” he murmured qu

ietly.

“When Darkstripe and Dustpelt return, send them to my den. I wish to speak to them before the ceremony.”

“Of course.”

“Now go!” Bluestar flicked her tail at him, as if she thought he was putting the Clan in danger by wasting time.