Into the Wild (Warriors 1)

“She killed Spottedleaf,” spat Longtail.

“Look between Spottedleaf’s claws,” Graypaw suggested. “You will find the brown fur of Clawface, not Yellowfang’s gray fur!”

Bluestar nodded at Mousefur, who darted away from the crowd, toward the spot where Spottedleaf’s body lay, waiting for its dawn burial. The Clan waited in tense silence till she returned.

“Graypaw is right,” Mousefur panted, rushing back to the clearing. “Spottedleaf was not attacked by a gray cat.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.

“But that doesn’t mean she didn’t help to take the kits!” hissed Tigerclaw.

“Without Yellowfang we never would have recovered the kits!” Firepaw spat, his exhaustion making him impatient. “She knew that a ShadowClan warrior had taken them. She was hunting for them when I found her. She risked her life returning to the ShadowClan camp. It was Yellowfang who thought up the battle plan that got us into the ShadowClan camp and gave us a chance to defeat Brokenstar!”

The cats listened to Firepaw’s words, astonished.

“He’s right,” Whitestorm meowed. “Yellowfang is a friend.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” murmured Bluestar, catching Firepaw’s eye.

Frostfur’s anxious meow sounded from the crowd. “Is Brokenstar dead?” she asked.

“No, he escaped,” Whitestorm told her. “But he will never lead ShadowClan again.”

Frostfur sighed in relief and returned to nuzzling her kits.

Whitestorm looked at Bluestar. “I promised ShadowClan we would leave them in peace until next fullmoon,” he explained. “Brokenstar’s leadership has left their Clan in chaos.”

Bluestar nodded. “That was a wise and generous offer,” she meowed approvingly. The ThunderClan leader walked past Whitestorm and the rest of the patrol and approached Yellowfang. Yellowfang lowered her eyes as Bluestar touched the gray cat’s rough coat with her nose.

“Yellowfang, I wish you to replace Spottedleaf as medicine cat to ThunderClan,” Bluestar meowed. “I’m sure you’ll find all her supplies as she left them.”

The other cats began to murmur to each other, tails flicking with excitement. Yellowfang looked around at them anxiously and said nothing.

Frostfur glanced at the other queens before she met Yellowfang’s gaze and slowly nodded her approval.

Yellowfang bent her head respectfully to the white cat before addressing her new leader. “Thank you, Bluestar. ShadowClan is not the Clan I once knew. ThunderClan is my Clan now.”

Firepaw felt a surge of satisfaction that the old she-cat he had come to love would be his Clan’s medicine cat from now on. Then his tail dropped as he realized that he would never again find Spottedleaf in her clearing, the sunlight gleaming on her soft fur, her amber eyes shining in welcome.

“Where’s Ravenpaw?” meowed Bluestar suddenly, jolting Firepaw out of his bittersweet remembrances.

“Yes,” Tigerclaw chimed in, “where is my apprentice? Strange that he should disappear along with Brokenstar.” He looked meaningfully around the Clan.

“If you think he might have been helping Brokenstar,” Firepaw meowed boldly, “then you are wrong!”

Tigerclaw stiffened, a menacing gleam in his yellow eyes.

“Ravenpaw is dead,” Firepaw went on, dropping his head as if weighed down with grief. “We found his body in ShadowClan territory. From the scents around him, he must have been slain by a ShadowClan patrol.” He looked at Bluestar. “I will tell you everything later,” he promised.

Yellowfang shot Firepaw a questioning look. Firepaw returned her gaze with a silent plea for her to hold her tongue. She twitched her ears briefly in understanding and looked away.

“I never said that Ravenpaw was a traitor,” hissed Tigerclaw. He paused and allowed an expression of sorrow to cloud his eyes before he turned to address the rest of the Clan. “Ravenpaw might have made a fine warrior. His death has come too soon, and his loss will be felt by many of us for a long time.”

Empty words! thought Firepaw bitterly. What would Tigerclaw say if he knew that Ravenpaw was safe, far beyond the forest, catching rats with Barley?

Bluestar broke the silence. “We will miss Ravenpaw, but we shall mourn him tomorrow. First there is another ritual that must be performed—one, I know, that Ravenpaw would have taken pleasure in.” She turned to Firepaw and Graypaw. “You have shown great courage tonight. Did they fight well, Whitestorm?” she asked.

“Like warriors,” Whitestorm replied solemnly.

Bluestar met his yellow-eyed gaze and gave a slight nod. Then she lifted her chin and fixed her eyes on Silverpelt’s swath of stars. Her voice rang out, clear and measured in the hushed woods. “I, Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.” She looked down at Firepaw and Graypaw, narrowing her eyes. “Firepaw, Graypaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your lives?”

Firepaw felt something stir within him, a fire that burned in his belly and rang in his ears. He suddenly felt that everything he had done for the Clan so far—all the prey he had stalked, all the enemy warriors he had fought—had been for the sake of this single moment. “I do,” he replied steadily.

“I do,” echoed Graypaw, his fur bristling with excitement.

“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior names: Graypaw, from this moment you will be known as Graystripe. StarClan honors your bravery and your strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” Bluestar stepped forward and rested her muzzle on top of Graystripe’s bowed head. He bent lower to give her shoulder a respectful lick, then straightened up and walked over to join the other warriors.

Bluestar stood and studied Firepaw for a long moment before speaking. “Firepaw, from this moment you will be known as Fireheart. StarClan honors your bravery and your strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.” She touched her muzzle to his head and murmured, “Fireheart, I am proud to have you as my warrior. Serve your Clan well, young one.”

Fireheart’s muscles were trembling so much that he could hardly stoop to lick Bluestar’s shoulder. He purred hoarsely to show his thanks, then slipped away to stand beside Graystripe.

Meows of tribute sounded from the crowd, and the voices of the Clan rose in the still night air to chant the new warrior names. “Fireheart! Graystripe! Fireheart!

Graystripe!”

Fireheart looked around the Clan, seeing faces that had grown so familiar over the last few moons. He listened to them as they called his new name and felt overwhelmed by the kindness and respect he saw shining in their eyes.

“It is almost moonhigh,” meowed Bluestar. “In the tradition of our ancestors, Fireheart and Graystripe must sit in silent vigil until dawn, and guard the camp alone while we sleep.”

Fireheart and Graystripe nodded solemnly.

As the rest of the Clan began to melt away back to their dens, Tigerclaw pushed past Fireheart. The ThunderClan deputy slowed as he passed and hissed quietly into his ear, “Don’t think you can outwit me, kittypet. Be careful what you tell Bluestar.”

A cold shiver ran down Fireheart’s spine. Bluestar had to know about Tigerclaw’s treachery!

As Tigerclaw headed back to the warriors’ den, Fireheart left Graystripe sitting alone in the clearing and bounded after Bluestar. He caught up with her outside her den. “Bluestar, I know I’m breaking the vow of silence, but I must speak with you before I begin my vigil.”

Bluestar looked at Fireheart and shook her head. “This is an important ritual, Fireheart. You can speak to me in the morning.”

Fireheart dipped his head in acceptance. Tigerclaw was not a problem that could be solved overnight anyway. He returned to Graystripe’s side in the middle of the clearing. The two friends exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Fireheart looked at the moon above his head. His orange coat glowed silver in the cold light. Around him, the bushes and trees were draped in mist that brushed damply against his fur. Fireheart closed his eyes and recalled the dreams of his kittenhood. The cool forest scents in his nostrils were real now, and the life of a warrior stretched ahead of him. He felt unrestrained joy flood up from his paws and surge through his body. Then he opened his eyes with a jolt. Another pair of eyes was shining back at him from the warriors’ den.

Tigerclaw!

Fireheart stared back without blinking. He was a warrior now. He had made an enemy of the Clan’s deputy, but Tigerclaw had made an enemy of him. Fireheart was not the same naive young cat who had joined the Clan all those moons ago. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and wiser. If he was destined to oppose Tigerclaw, then so be it. Fireheart was ready for the challenge.