Fire and Ice (Warriors 3)

“Cold no better?” asked Fireheart sympathetically.

“Nope,” replied Graystripe with his mouth full. “I guess I’ll have to stay in camp awhile longer.”

Fireheart thought his friend sounded a lot more cheerful than he had before, but he didn’t want to betray his growing suspicion that Graystripe was up to something.

“Brackenpaw did really well in his assessment today,” he meowed.

“Really?” Graystripe took another bite of mouse. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, he’s a great hunter.” Fireheart started to eat his chaffinch. “Graystripe,” he meowed after a long silence, “have you been out of the camp the past few days?”

Graystripe stopped chewing. “Why do you ask?”

Fireheart’s tail twitched uncomfortably. “Well, you weren’t here when I got in from last night’s patrol, and Tigerclaw said he hadn’t seen you since sunhigh today.”

“Tigerclaw?” Graystripe sounded worried.

“I told him you were probably out looking for peace and quiet, or that you might be with Yellowfang,” Fireheart meowed. He took another bite of chaffinch. “Were you?” he asked through the feathers, suddenly desperate for Graystripe to say yes, to stop the suspicion that Graystripe might be keeping a secret from him.

But Graystripe ignored Fireheart’s query. “Well, thanks for covering for me.” He carried on chewing.

Fireheart didn’t ask any more questions, even though he was burning with curiosity. When Graystripe got to his paws and announced he was going to the den, Fireheart was still no wiser about what was on Graystripe’s mind.

“Okay,” he meowed. “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.” Graystripe gave him a brief nod and padded away. Fireheart rolled onto his back for a long stretch, scratching the ground above his head with his claws. He lay on his back for a while, thinking. From the smell of him, Graystripe had given himself a good wash very recently. Was he trying to hide some scent? Fireheart realized that Graystripe had pretty much admitted he had left the camp. But where could he have gone that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell Fireheart? Suddenly his paws prickled—what about his own visits to Princess, in Twoleg territory, of all places! He’d washed himself thoroughly before returning to camp too, and never mentioned the meetings to Graystripe.

Fireheart flipped over and sat up. There was something caught under one of his claws. He lifted his paw and tugged out the piece of dirt with his teeth. It was a catkin, old and shriveled, but definitely a catkin. What was this doing here? Willow trees didn’t grow in ThunderClan’s part of the forest—in fact, the only willows Fireheart had ever seen grew close to the river, in RiverClan territory. Fireheart held his breath as his heart began to pound. Had this come from Graystripe’s coat?

He crept into the warriors’ den. Graystripe was already asleep. Fireheart lay awake beside him and wondered if Graystripe had really been foolish enough to return to RiverClan territory. The look in Leopardfur’s eyes after Whiteclaw’s death had shown that there was a score to be settled. Fireheart shuddered as he resolved to find out exactly where Graystripe was going and why.

When Fireheart awoke the den felt damp and chilled. One sniff of the air told him rain was on the way. He pushed his way outside, yawning. He hadn’t slept well, worrying about Graystripe. Even now, the thought of his friend alone in RiverClan territory sent a shiver through him.

“Chilly, eh?” Runningwind’s voice startled Fireheart. Fireheart looked over his shoulder, his tail twitching. The lean tabby warrior was padding out of the den.

“Er, yeah,” Fireheart agreed.

“Are you okay?” asked Runningwind. “Not caught your friend’s cold, have you? Mousefur’s streaming with it this morning, and Longtail said Swiftpaw sneezed all through training yesterday.”

Fireheart shook his head. “I’m fine. Just tired after yesterday’s assessment.”

“Ah. Bluestar thought you might be. That’s why she asked me to help you with Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw’s training today. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Fireheart meowed.

“Right, then,” Runningwind decided. “I’ll meet you in the hollow after I’ve eaten. If Swiftpaw’s coming down with a cold, we should have the place to ourselves. Are you hungry?” Fireheart shook his head, and Runningwind trotted away to pick through the leftovers from last night’s fresh-kill.

Fireheart went straight to the training hollow and waited for the others to arrive. His mind was not on training; he was still thinking about Graystripe. He felt sure his friend would slip out of camp again today.

A rain-laden wind was beginning to sway the leafless branches above the hollow when Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw arrived, followed by Runningwind.

“What are we doing today?” asked Cinderpaw, scampering down into the hollow. Fireheart stared at her blankly. He hadn’t thought about it at all.

“Hunting?” Brackenpaw mewed hopefully as he trotted after Cinderpaw.

Runningwind padded across the hollow and joined them. “How about practicing some stalking techniques?” he suggested.

“Good idea,” Fireheart agreed quickly.

“Not the old ‘rabbit hears you, mouse feels you’ lesson again!” Cinderpaw moaned.

Runningwind silenced her with a look and turned to Fireheart.

Fireheart realized with a jump that Runningwind was waiting for him to start. “Er, I’ll start by showing you the best way to stalk rabbit,” he stammered. He dropped into a crouch and began to move forward, fast and light, until he reached the end of the hollow. He stood and turned to find the other three cats staring at him quizzically.

“Are you sure that’d fool a rabbit?” mewed Cinderpaw, her whiskers twitching.

Fireheart felt confused for a moment until he realized he’d just demonstrated his best bird-stalking technique. A rabbit would have heard the swish of his fur through the undergrowth three fox lengths away.

Fireheart looked at Runningwind, embarrassed. The tabby warrior frowned. “How about I show you two how to creep up on a shrew?” Cinderpaw turned her bright gaze from Fireheart to Runningwind. Fireheart sighed and padded over to watch.

By sunhigh, Fireheart was still finding it difficult to concentrate on the training session. He kept imagining Graystripe sneaking out of the camp, and longed to follow him. Eventually his restlessness overwhelmed him. He went over to Runningwind and spoke quietly into his ear. “I have a bellyache,” he meowed. “Can you take over the training for the rest of the day? I want to see if Yellowfang has anything for it.”

“I thought you seemed a little distracted,” Runningwind replied. “You go back to camp. I’ll take this pair out hunting.”

“Thanks, Runningwind,” meowed Fireheart, feeling a pang of shame that Running

wind had believed him so easily.

He limped across the hollow, trying to look as if he were in pain. As soon as he was safely among the trees, he broke into a run and raced back to the camp. When Graystripe had returned yesterday, he’d appeared from behind the nursery. Fireheart knew from experience that this was the best place to slip through the camp boundary without being noticed—it was where Yellowfang had escaped from the camp when the Clan had suspected the old medicine cat of Spottedleaf’s murder.

Fireheart padded around the outside of the camp and sniffed at the wall of bracken. His heart sank as he picked up Graystripe’s scent. Graystripe had definitely been sneaking out of the camp this way, and often by the smell of it. At least the scent was stale, which meant he hadn’t been this way today.

Fireheart crouched behind a nearby tree and settled down to wait. The wood was growing darker as rain clouds began to push across the sky. The shadows hid him perfectly, and he made sure he was downwind so Graystripe wouldn’t detect him. His belly really was aching now, tense with guilt and apprehension. He half hoped Graystripe wouldn’t come, half hoped he would just lead him to some quiet spot within ThunderClan’s borders.

Fireheart’s heart lurched as he heard a rustling in the bracken wall. A gray nose was pushing its way through the fronds. Fireheart ducked his head as Graystripe looked around cautiously. After a few moments, the warrior leaped out and set off at a trot toward the training hollow.

Hope flared in Fireheart’s chest. Perhaps Graystripe’s cold was better and he’d decided to join the training session. He set off after him, keeping a safe distance behind, relying on scent rather than sight to track his friend.

But when the trail veered away from the path that led to the training hollow, Fireheart knew that his hope had been in vain. With an ominous sense of dread, he saw the distinctive gray rock loom ahead through the trees: Sunningrocks. Fireheart pricked his ears and opened his mouth, testing the breeze for the smell of enemy cats. At the edge of the trees, he caught a glimpse of a broad-shouldered gray cat slipping past the rocks, toward the RiverClan border. There was no doubt now where Graystripe was heading.