“Wait,” Bluestar ordered with a touch of her old authority. “Fireheart, explain what’s going on.”
He told her how Graystripe had warned him about Leopardstar’s attack and pulled her away when Fireheart was losing their fight. “He brought me to help you when Mistyfoot and Stonefur were attacking you,” he explained. “And I owe him my life. Bluestar, please let him come back into ThunderClan.”
Graystripe looked at his former leader with a glimmer of hope in his amber eyes. But before Bluestar could reply, Darkstripe broke in roughly. “He left ThunderClan of his own free will. Why should we let him come crawling back now?”
“I’m not crawling to you or any cat,” Graystripe retorted. He turned to face the gray she-cat again. “But I’d like to come back, if you’ll have me, Bluestar.”
“You can’t take back a traitor!” Darkstripe spat. “He just betrayed his leader—how do you know he won’t betray you the first chance he gets?”
“He did it for Fireheart!” Sandstorm protested.
Darkstripe snorted contemptuously.
Bluestar fixed a cold look on him. “If Graystripe is a traitor,” she meowed, with all the ice of leaf-bare in her voice, “then he’s just the same as the rest of you. The Clan is full of traitors, so one more won’t make any difference.” She whirled on Fireheart, power and strength seeming to flow back into her body. “You should have let Mistyfoot and Stonefur kill me!” she spat. “Better a quick death at the claws of noble warriors than a life dragged out in a Clan I can’t trust—a Clan doomed to destruction by StarClan!”
There were gasps from the other cats as she spoke, and Fireheart realized that few of the Clan had any idea how distrustful and despairing Bluestar had become. He knew there was no point in trying to argue with her now. “Does that mean Graystripe can stay?” he asked.
“Stay or go, whatever he likes,” Bluestar responded indifferently. Her flash of strength ebbed, leaving her looking more exhausted than ever. Slowly, not meeting the troubled gazes of any of her warriors, she padded away in the direction of the camp.
CHAPTER 18
As Fireheart wearily pushed his way through the entrance to the camp he spotted Bramblekit dashing toward him, almost falling over his paws in his eagerness to greet the returning warriors. “Did we win?” he asked. He stopped and stared round-eyed at Graystripe. “Who’s this? Is he a prisoner?”
“No, he’s a ThunderClan cat,” Fireheart replied. “It’s a long story, Bramblekit, and I’m too tired to explain now. Get your mother to tell you.”
Bramblekit took a step back, looking slightly crestfallen. Though he wouldn’t remember it, Fireheart reflected, he had suckled side by side with Graystripe’s two kits. Goldenflower had cared for them in the few days they had spent in ThunderClan after Silverstream’s death.
The dark tabby kit eyed Graystripe suspiciously as the two warriors padded past him, and then turned to Tawnykit as she came bounding up. “Look!” he mewed. “There’s a new cat in the Clan.”
“Who is he?” Tawnykit wondered.
“A traitor,” Darkstripe spat as he stalked past on his way to the warriors’ den. “But then, we’re all traitors, according to Bluestar.”
The two kits stared at him with total bewilderment in their faces. Fireheart fought down his fury; there was no time to start an argument with Darkstripe, but the warrior had no business letting his anger spill over onto the kits. Feeling an unusual pang of sympathy for Bramblekit, he turned back and meowed, “Yes, we did win. We keep Sunningrocks.”
Bramblekit gave a little joyous bounce. “Great! I’m going to tell the elders.” He scurried off with Tawnykit hard on his paws.
“Those are Tigerstar’s kits, aren’t they?” asked Graystripe curiously, watching them go.
“Yes.” Fireheart didn’t want to discuss them now. “Let’s go see Cinderpelt and get patched up.”
Graystripe looked around as the two warriors crossed the burned-out clearing. “It’s never going to be the same,” he muttered despondently.
“Next newleaf, you’ll see,” Fireheart replied, trying to cheer him up. He hoped Graystripe was only referring to the damage caused by the fire, and not a sense that he could never recover his old place within the Clan. “Everything will grow back stronger than before.”
Graystripe didn’t reply. He didn’t look as happy as Fireheart had expected him to be, as if he were beginning to doubt that the rest of his birth Clan would accept him. And Fireheart could see pain in his eyes that suggested he was already beginning to miss the kits he had given up. After all, he hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.
The returning warriors were gathering in Cinderpelt’s clearing. As Fireheart and Graystripe approached, the medicine cat looked up from pressing cobwebs against a wound in Cloudpaw’s side. “Here’s Fireheart now,” she mewed, and added, “Great StarClan, you look as if you’ve been fighting monsters on the Thunderpath.”
“It feels like it.” Fireheart grunted. Settling down to wait for Cinderpelt to check him over, he realized how much his wounds hurt. The one in the leg that Leopardstar had given him was still bleeding, and he bent his head to lick it.
“What are you thinking, bringing him back again?” Fireheart looked up to see Dustpelt glaring at Graystripe. “We don’t want him here.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Fireheart asked, gritting his teeth. “I think he belongs here—and so does Sandstorm, and—” He broke off as Dustpelt pointedly turned his back.
Graystripe shot an apologetic look at Fireheart. “They won’t accept me,” he mewed. “It’s true; I left the Clan, and now…”
“Give it time,” Fireheart tried to encourage him. “They’ll come around.”
Privately, he wished he could believe it. Thanks to Bluestar’s indifference, some of the ThunderClan cats would have no qualms about objecting to Graystripe’s return. One more problem, Fireheart thought, to add to his worries about what was really going on in the forest. How could the Clan hope to survive the destruction StarClan had prophesied, unless they were united?
Fireheart wondered if Graystripe knew about the dark threat in the forest from RiverClan’s medicine cat the “pack” that StarClan had warned them of. Though Fireheart’s fur prickled with dread, there was some comfort in knowing that Graystripe was back, and he would have his friend to rely on, whatever lay ahead. Fireheart began to lick his wound again, wishing that he could just enjoy the gray warrior’s return for a few moments.
“That’s right, get it clean,” Cinderpelt meowed as she came up to him. She sniffed at the leg wound and then rapidly checked his other injuries. “You’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’ll give you some cobwebs for the bleeding, but apart from that you just need to rest.”
“Have you seen Bluestar?” Fireheart asked as Cinderpelt brought the cobwebs and laid them over the wound. “Is she badly hurt?”
“A bite on her shoulder,” replied the medicine cat. “I gave her a poultice of herbs, and she went back to her den.”
Fireheart struggled to his paws. “I’d better go and see her.”
“Okay, but if she’s asleep, don’t wake her. Clan business, whatever it is, can wait. And while Fireheart does that,” she added to Graystripe, “I’ll have a look at you.” She gave his ear a quick lick. “It’s good to have you back.”
At least some cats would welcome Graystripe, Fireheart told himself as he padded across the clearing. The others would change their minds; Graystripe just needed time to prove that he would to be a loyal member of ThunderClan again.
“Fireheart!” Sandstorm hailed him as he approached Bluestar’s den. “Mousefur and I are going out to hunt.”
“Thanks,” Fireheart mewed gratefully.
“Are you all right?” Sandstorm drew closer, her eyes narrowing. “I thought you’d be pleased—we won the battle, and Graystripe has come home.”
Fireheart pressed his muzzle briefly against her flank. He felt a pang of relief that the ginger she-cat seemed to have forgiven him for going behind Bluestar’s back to arrange the talk with WindClan. “I know—but I’m not sure that all the cats will accept Graystripe. They’ll find it hard to forget that he loved a cat from another Clan, and then left us altogether.”
Sandstorm shrugged. “That’s in the past. He’s here now, isn’t he? They’ll just have to put up with it.”
“That’s not the point!” Pain and weariness made Fireheart more irritable than he intended. “We can’t afford quarrels just now. Can’t you see that?”
Sandstorm stared at him, anger flaring in her pale green eyes. “Sorry, I’m sure,” she spat. “I was only trying to help.”
“Sandstorm, don’t…” Fireheart began, realizing too late that he’d said the wrong thing. But Sandstorm had already turned away and was stalking back toward the warriors’ den, where Mousefur was waiting for her.