#dustleap

The ginger tom jumped back in surprise as a golden presence seemed to materialize next to him. “Don’t even think about it, Tigerclaw.” Lionheart snarled, his eyes even with the other giant tabby tom. “You’ve lost.”

Whitestorm stepped up in front of his aunt, his golden eyes blazing. “After everything that’s happened, I truly thought you had changed.” The mighty white warrior snarled to the tom that had grown up beside him. “I was willing to believe that perhaps Starclan had seen something in you that would lead Thunderclan to greatness. But they hadn’t. Redtail was trying to warn us.” He shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the traitor before him. “I should have believed him.”

“Does this mean everything Fireheart said was true?” Fireheart glanced back at the crowd to see Dustleap shaking like a leaf as he stared at his blood-soaked father. 

“All of it.” Tinyfrost confirmed from Tigerclaw’s other side, his icy blue eyes narrow as he looked over the crowd. “There’s only one liar here, and that’s Tigerclaw.”

“You should believe him.” Peppermask pushed her way through the crowd to come stand by her friend, pressing against him reassuringly. “I heard everything he did from Ravenspirit and Riverclan. Tigerclaw killed my father, he killed Redtail - and he would have murdered his way to leadership, if it wasn’t for Fireheart.”

Stunned silence hung in the air as the Clan absorbed this news. He could clearly see each cat grappling with the world-shattering revelations that had just been uncovered. It had been hard enough for him and the others to understand, one bit at a time. To have it be revealed all at once - as much as he hated it, he understood their disbelief.

Part of him briefly thought about adding more secrets onto the pile - like that Ravenspirit was alive, or that Whitestorm was Brokentail’s son. But they weren’t truly his secrets to reveal, and in any case, they had enough to deal with in punishing Tigerclaw.

“So what now?” He blinked in surprise as Halftail spoke. Of all the cats, he seemed to be the least surprised by what had just transpired. Or perhaps, Fireheart reasoned, Halftail was just choosing not to show his surprise to everyone else.

Bluestar stepped forward, her blue eyes glittering dangerously. “Do you have any last words, Tigerclaw?” She asked bluntly as she watched her deputy seethe angrily. 

He was quiet for several heartbeats, and Fireheart looked on with worry. Was Tigerclaw going to lash out now that his plans had gone awry? “Fine. If you all want the truth, I’ll tell you the truth.” The murderer growled, glaring out at the crowd in front of him. “The truth is that this Clan has grown soft. Never before would an enemy warrior have seen the inside of our camp like this, yet under Bluestar’s command it has now happened three separate times.” 

His tail lashed angrily as he surveyed the Clan. “We have been weakened by constantly accepting soft, lazy kittypets as warriors instead of sending them to where they belong. We fight in wars that don’t concern us and take in any random stray we find. Under my command, we could become a formidable Clan, one that truly follows the code instead of bending it to our whims.” He shrugged and lapped at one shoulder nonchalantly. “The only question is whether this Clan is brave enough to accept that.”

There was a moment of silence as the Clan pondered what he had just said. “So if Fireheart is a soft, lazy kittypet, then what does that make you after he beat you?” Cinderspark shouted from where she was sitting near the back. “Just curious, is all.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched in amusement. Despite the shock of it all, it seemed Cinderspark wasn’t about to let it break her. And while he would normally disapprove of her blase attitude in the face of such a serious affair, he could see the Clan beginning to relax at her words.

"You're wrong, Tigerclaw." Fireheart's tail bristled in shock as Longtail stood up out of the crowd now, taking a few steps forward to stare directly into his hero's dark glare. "It's not kittypets that have weakened this Clan. It's you."

All eyes were on the lanky tabby as he stood nearly nose-to-nose with the mighty warrior that he had looked up to for so long. "I admired you, Tigerclaw. For a while, I thought you were the pinnacle of what every warrior should be - brave and strong, always willing to fight for what the Clan needs in a heartbeat. But I was wrong. Any cat can be big and tough, even rogues like Brokentail and Spiderfoot. That's not what makes us warriors."

"Redtail understood that. He knew that being a warrior was about doing what's right and following the code, no matter the cost. He cared for every cat in this Clan, because he knew that it wasn't strength that made us a Clan - it was our bonds. He was the greatest cat that this Clan has ever had, and you killed him." He shook his head in bitter disbelief as tears welled in his eyes. "Just like you killed Quickflash. My brother was a good cat. Just like Redtail, he cared for this Clan. He wanted to see us all thrive, no matter our origins. I know he would have made a good leader - and you even agreed with me. You told me you were certain the day would come when he got his nine lives. Were you already planning to kill him then? Did you know you were lying to me?"

He took a ragged breath in and out, trying to maintain his composure. "They're two of the greatest cats this Clan will have ever had, and you killed them. For what? The good of Thunderclan?"

"I-"

"Don't even try to lie to me." Longtail was up in Tigerclaw's face with a snarl, his pale eyes blazing brighter than Fireheart's pelt. "Thunderclan has lost two of its best warriors because of you - a loss that we will never be able to recover from. If you hadn't killed Redtail, we could have Sunningrocks back. If you hadn't killed Quickflash, Willowbranch would be carrying a new litter - a litter of strong, forestborn warriors. But that doesn't matter to you, does it? The only thing you can think about is yourself."

"Well, I can tell you one thing, Tigerclaw." The lithe warrior stepped back, even as his unsheathed claws clearly itched for the blood of his former idol. "It's not blood that makes a cat a good warrior. It's their passion, their desire to do right by the Clan. There are so few warriors like that these days - but Fireheart is one of them. He follows the code far more than you ever have. He may have been born a kittypet, but he is a warrior now - more of a warrior than you could hope to be. In fact, when it comes to kittypets - I'd say you're more like your father than Fireheart ever was."

Tigerclaw roared with fury as his longtime follower spat the last sentence in his face, leaping forward with claws extended to force Longtail to take his words back. Before he could touch the younger tom, however, Tinyfrost was underneath him and shoving him away into Lionheart, who grabbed the once-respected deputy by the scruff and pulled him roughly down into the dirt once more.

Longtail sat back down next to Darkstripe, glancing at the black tabby as though expecting him to agree, but his black ears perked in shock as the other tom pulled away with a disgusted sneer. "I didn't realize you were so short-sighted, Longtail." Darkstripe growled, catching the attention of any cat that hadn't been looking at them. "Redtail, Quickflash - their deaths were tragic, yes, but they were just means to an end. Tigerclaw knew this. Tigerclaw understands that a Clan needs a strong paw to guide them."

Longtail looked horrified as his dark companion stood up and padded over to nuzzle under Tigerclaw's chin - a gesture of obedience that the giant tabby accepted. "You're all fools if you can't see how Tigerclaw could lead this Clan to glorious new heights, free from the disease that festers at its core! We could rid ourselves of the kittypet filth that poisons us-" Darkstripe shot a pointed glare at Fireheart and Tinyfrost- "and grow powerful enough that all the Clans would fear us as they would any true ruler! We-"

With a single paw, Whitestorm thrust Darkstripe's head to the ground, his jaw slamming painfully against the earth. "Be quiet, you. The only filth we'll be ridding this Clan of is you and your mentor." The black-striped tom squirmed beneath the mighty warrior's paw, but it wasn't until Whitestorm let go that he was able to rise, spitting out dust and pebbles.

"At least one of you has some sense." Tigerclaw rumbled, shooting a disdainful look at Whitestorm, which was readily returned. "Which of the rest of you will be bold enough to join me? Sandstorm, my dearest daughter?"

Silence stretched between them as Sandstorm regarded the traitor for a long moment. At last, the pale ginger molly stood and padded soundlessly towards her father. Fireheart's heart dropped. Sandstorm loved her father, he was sure, but surely now that she knew who he was she wouldn't dream of-

"I remember when my brother and I were kits." She mewed softly, quiet enough that Fireheart had to strain to hear it from behind Lionheart. "I remember the pride I felt knowing that my Papa was deputy of the whole Clan - how he assured me that one day, I could follow in his pawsteps, if I committed to being a great warrior that Thunderclan deserved. I remember how he brought me my favorite freshkill when I got sick, even though it was leafbare. I remember how he used to play mossball with me, how he held me close and purred when I had nightmares, how he scolded me when I got into a fight with Dust. He was deputy, but he always made time for us."

"Even as apprentices, he loved us. He was hard on us, but it was only because he wanted to see us succeed even beyond him. The way he wouldn't stop telling everyone when I caught my first prey, I knew he was proud of us." Sandstorm's green eyes were blazing with fury, a fury that seemed to almost match the way Tigerclaw had looked at Fireheart when he realized his plans had been ruined. "Redtail was my father - my Papa - and you killed him. You killed him, and you lied about it, and you made me think-"

She cut herself off, swallowing down whatever words she had been about to say. "When I saw Papa's body, my life was shattered. The only solace I had was that his murderer was dead, that at least Papa could rest in Starclan knowing that he was avenged. And this whole time, his murderer has lied to me, over and over - and now he dares to call himself my father?"

A brilliant flash of crimson lanced through the air as Tigerclaw jerked back with a hiss. Fireheart realized belatedly that Sandstorm was holding her paw up, her claws dripping with the dark tabby's blood - she had moved so fast, his eyes hadn't even registered her strike. "You call Fireheart soft - and you might very well be right, because Fireheart let you live. He has shown you a mercy that I never will. If you ever dare to show your face to me again, I will inflict upon you the suffering that you deserve for each and every one of your crimes - the suffering you have escaped each day you lived instead of Papa. You will beg for Starclan to save you and I can promise you now, they will not answer."

All of the Clan looked on in stunned silence at her words, but if she noticed, she didn’t seem to be bothered. Instead, she turned around, her tail slapping into his face as she did so, and marched back to where she had been sitting by her apprentice and her brother. Tigerclaw dabbed at his nose with a paw, trying to appear unbothered. “Fine, then. And you, Dustleap? You have always been my most loyal son.”

Fireheart looked on as Dustleap trembled violently, shaking worse than a leaf on the Thunderpath. For a moment, he feared that the young tabby would collapse into the dirt beneath him from the shock - and yet, somehow, the tom took one quivering step forward, then another, until he too was in front of his father. "Father, I loved you. I trusted you. I- I would have done anything for you. You know that. You- You know that." Tears welled up in the tabby's pale eyes, making them shimmer like a puddle beneath the full moon. "I would have died for you."

He took a stuttering breath, as though his body was rejecting the need for air. "But Redtail was my father too. And Quickflash was - he was my mentor, Father. I thought you trusted him. He was a good warrior. They both were. But- But you killed them? You killed them. They followed the warrior code - they did everything right - and you killed them. Just as - just like you would have made us kill Ravenspirit."

Dustleap's eyes searched his father's for answers, but Fireheart knew he would find no answers from the murderer that would satisfy him. "Did you kill him too?" Dustleap asked, his voice breaking from the strain. "How many have died because of you? How many would have died because of you, if you did become leader? Would - would you have me killed too?"

Tigerclaw shook his broad head slowly. "Dustleap, you misunderstand. You are my favorite son, I would never-"

"Because your other son is dead!" Fireheart was shocked by the volume with which the warrior howled, his every word filled to the brim with grief and pain. "If it weren't for me following your orders, Fireheart and Graystripe wouldn't have taken him with them to fight Brokentail. He wouldn't have died - he could still be alive! But he's dead! He's dead, and he- he died thinking I hated him!" He took another shuddering breath, his whole body wracked by sobs. "And he was right. I did hate him, because you lied."

They stared at each other, silent except for the tears Dustleap was barely choking back. "I would have followed you anywhere, Father. I thought you were the greatest warrior to ever live in these Clans. You made me believe that. But that was just one of the many lies you told, wasn't it?" Dustleap looked over every inch of his father's face, trying to find a crack in the stony facade - but there wasn't one. "Avenging Redtail, honoring Quickflash, serving the code - I don't think you've ever told me the truth once. Not even-" He swallowed at the air, trying to gulp down enough to finish speaking. "Not even when you said you loved me."

At last he turned away, his piece apparently said, but he had only made it a pawstep before looking back. "Sandstorm's right. You're not our father. If I see you again, I will kill you - I will kill you, and you will deserve it." He looked away and then up at the branches covering camp. "And Ravenspirit, I- I am so, so sorry."

Fireheart watched, his heart suddenly aching for Dustleap as he limped back to his sister and almost collapsed against her irate, rigid form. For so long, Fireheart had looked upon the temperamental tabby with annoyance at best - and hatred at worst. He had been reckless, arrogant, and volatile, but he had at his heart wanted to serve the Clan, just as Fireheart had - just as he thought his father had. To look at him now, he seemed almost broken - not so different from when Fireheart had first met Ravenspirit, so long ago. He had never thought of them as brothers before, but seeing the pain that had been inflicted upon both of them by Tigerclaw made him suddenly appreciate their similarities.

“Enough of this, Tigerclaw.” Bluestar stepped forward now, her tail lashing once to punctuate her sentence. “You and Darkstripe are hereby exiled from Thunderclan for your crimes.” The leader announced, her eyes narrowing as she looked down her nose at both of them. “You will leave our territory at once. And if you ever dare to step foot on Thunderclan land again, all warriors have my express permission to kill you.” She whipped around to pointedly turn her back on them. “Now get out of my sight.”

For a second, he thought that Tigerclaw might not leave, or that he might even try to finish the job. Then he stood and stretched, as the crowd jeered and hissed at him. “Fireheart.” He growled, turning to glare at the cat that had beaten him. “You had best watch every step you make. You may think you’ve won today, but know that I will be back one day. I will wait in the shadows, however long it takes for you to drop your guard. I know every whisker-length of this territory, and I will get what I deserve. I promise you that.”

The ginger tom flattened his ears angrily at the now-exiled deputy. “Oh, I’ll make sure you get what you deserve, if Starclan doesn’t get to you first.” He growled back, tail lashing. “Now are you going to leave willingly, or will I have to drag your body to the Thunderpath myself?”

Tigerclaw’s tail bristled at his retort, but he didn’t answer as he padded to the bramble tunnel entrance. Darkstripe followed him, casting one last glare over his shoulder before the two disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Fireheart turned to Bluestar, mouth open to ask her a question, but didn’t get a chance before she stumbled to one side. Whitestorm caught her before she could fall, his golden gaze worried. “Bluestar?” He rumbled softly. “How many lives did Tigerclaw take?”

The leader’s eyelids fluttered for several heartbeats as she fought to keep herself on her paws. “Two.” She mumbled to her nephew, though the word seemed impossibly hard for her to speak.

“She needs rest.” Lionheart stated firmly, coming up on the other side of Bluestar to support her. “Let’s get her to the nursery for now. It’ll have the largest beds for her to recover in, while we…” He glanced back at the leader’s den, which had several sets of bloody pawprints coming out of it. Including, Fireheart realized as he looked down at his paws, his own.

As soon as the two toms had moved off, supporting Bluestar between them, the rest of the Clan crowded around Fireheart. “How long have you known Tigerclaw was a murderer?” “Did Bluestar know about all this?” “What else did Ravenspirit tell you before he died?” “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

For a brief moment, he thought of Mistyskip, Graypool, and Silverstream. Was Riverclan alright? He cursed himself slightly for wondering. They were enemy warriors, and not his problem to deal with. And yet… “How much of our land is affected? Do you think our camp is in danger from the flooding?”

“The roots of the Owltree are submerged. There’s no way to reach the log bridge to the Gathering - if the waters haven’t already floated it away.” Peppermask reported grimly, her tail rattling nervously. “The flood waters haven’t reached that far up the stream that leads to camp, but if the water keeps rising, it could only be a matter of time.”

Whitestorm nodded beside her. “I would suggest a sentry be posted at the end of the ravine, where the stream starts to make its way to the river. If the flood waters start to make their way up to here, we’ll need time to evacuate.” 

Fireheart dipped his head. “That’s a good idea. As long as the rain continues, the waters will only keep rising.” He surveyed camp, looking for a suitable candidate for the first shift. “Dustleap! Come here for a moment, please.”

The brown tabby looked up from where he was huddling with Longtail, a brief distaste crossing his face before he diligently padded out to meet the deputy. “Yes, Fireheart?” He asked, a note of anger in his voice even as he dipped his head meekly in greeting.

“The river has flooded, and I’m concerned about the flood making its way to camp. We’ll need sentries posted to watch the waters and alert camp if it looks like the water will enter the ravine. Can you and Brackenpaw take the first shift? Find somewhere dry, up around the clearing at the end of the ravine.” He glanced to where the apprentices were sitting, doing their best to huddle under a small oak tree behind their den. He didn’t say it - didn’t want to say it - but even though the end of the ravine was only a few tree-lengths away, he feared for the safety of any cat sitting outside camp right now alone. No cat knew where Tigerclaw had gone, and that felt dangerous in and of itself.

Dustleap’s whiskers twitched as he considered it. “Of course, Fireheart. How long do you want us out there?” He asked calmly, flicking his ear irritably as a water droplet fell on it.

“Until dusk. I’ll send someone out to relieve you two then.” He flicked his tail to the fresh-kill pile, as soaked as it currently was. “Make sure to take some prey with you, as well. I doubt you’ll get a chance to eat until after you return.”

The dark tabby lowered his head in courtesy once more. “Thank you, Fireheart. We’ll keep a close watch.” With that, he quickly grabbed a squirrel and headed across camp to tell his apprentice their new assignment.

“What about you, Fireheart?” Whitestorm asked softly. “Do you want to call the Clan together and tell them what has happened?”

He hesitated and shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see the extent of the flooding for myself, first.” Fireheart flicked his tail at Peppermask. “Peppermask, why don’t you come and show me?”

His friend’s eyes widened briefly, but she nodded assent all the same. “Alright. We can try and catch some prey on the way back, if it hasn’t already drowned in the flood waters.” 

The two waved farewell to the senior warrior as they padded to the bramble entrance. “Fireheart!” Another voice called before they could leave. The two turned curiously to see who was calling. It was Graystripe, trotting hurriedly across camp towards them.

“Yes, Graystripe?” Fireheart did his best not to growl at the sight of his former friend. The large gray tom had been meek and compliant, staying out of his way ever since the night Fireheart had become deputy. This was the first time they had actually spoken since then, and he imagined he already knew why.

“Look, I- I heard Dustleap talking to Brackenpaw. You’re heading out to check the flooding, right? Do you- is it alright if I come with?” Graystripe’s yellow eyes were wide and pleading as he asked - begged, really - to join their patrol.

Fireheart felt his claws unsheathe slightly as the other tom spoke, his first instinct to tell the warrior to get out of his sight. But some part of him reconsidered. While Graystripe had been good and kept his head down, he had no doubt that the tom would immediately strike out to see the flooding on his own accord, even if Fireheart didn’t let him. Graystripe had been behaving, as well, keeping to camp more often in the past moon than he had the season before. Plus, the flood affected him, just like it did every other member of the Clan - if any other cat wanted to observe the floods, he would let them, so long as they were accompanied. It felt unfair to hold Graystripe to higher standards. “Alright. But if you so much as-”

“I won’t!” The repentant warrior crouched in grateful submission. “I’ll keep all my paws on our side of the border, and I won’t mew even a word to any Riverclanner without your permission. I just- I have to know-” He trailed off as he stood back up, the worry on his face saying more than he ever could.

“Good. Come on, then.” He nodded to Dustleap and Brackenpaw as the two approached, and the five cats left camp together, splitting up as they crossed the ravine for their respective patrols. As soon as they reached the stream that fed through the forest into the river, Fireheart could already see the issue - the stream was swollen to three times the size of what it usually was, bubbling lazily as it flowed slowly onwards.

The three young Thunderclanners followed it as it meandered through the forest, slowly swelling more and more the closer they came to the river. At last, Peppermask came to a halt and held her tail out to stop the other two. “We’re close to the Owltree, now. The water won’t be much further out.”

They padded forward cautiously, ignoring the rain falling on their fur. Normally the banks of the river were still many tree-lengths away, the entire area primarily scrubland and tall grasses, but he was willing to take Peppermask at her word. The air was beginning to brighten as they approached the edge of the treeline, with less foliage to shield them from the storm above. They didn’t let that stop them, instead cautiously poking through the last of the bracken to see beyond.

“Great Starclan.” He heard Graystripe whisper in astonishment. They were standing on the edge of a small cliff, but were less than a tail-length from the top of the flood waters. Before the flood, he would expect to see the marshy fields of Riverclan territory on the other side, but now there was no land - only water. And the waters themselves - instead of the rippling, clear water of the river he knew, there was just a blank expanse of dark, muddy depths that seemed almost frozen in place as the warriors stood there. 

“Is it even moving?” He wondered aloud, to which the other two shrugged at him. Looking around, he spied a small fallen branch, likely broken in one of the recent storms. Delicately grabbing it with his teeth, he gestured for the two to stand back before throwing it as far as he could into the flood waters below. The branch floated lazily away as the three of them looked on.

“I- Silverstream-” Graystripe paused, glancing guiltily at Fireheart, who only narrowed his eyes and gestured for the other tom to continue. “She said that the river floods whenever newleaf comes, and that they can’t hunt on the lands for a quarter-moon until it subsides. But she never - I don’t think she mentioned anything like this…”

“Riverclan’s not our problem.” Peppermask mewed, saying what he was thinking to himself. “But the flood is. Look at all that territory - those are good hunting grounds that the river has swallowed up. Who knows what state it will be in, after the water’s gone.”

Fireheart nodded as he pondered the situation. “We can’t have any cats falling in. I think… Peppermask, do you think Riverclan will take advantage of this?”

“Do you think we shouldn’t patrol the borders?” She replied, considering him with thoughtful green eyes. “I think Riverclan’s going to be too busy dealing with this to really bother us. But we should still have a daily patrol anyways, to see when the flood starts subsiding, or if…” She trailed off, glancing behind her, and he knew what she was thinking. What if the flood spread through the whole forest? Was such a thing even possible?

“That’s a good idea.” Fireheart mewed, sitting down and nodding to himself. “We’ll only have the late day border patrol, then, at least until the flood waters go down some. And only warriors, as well - cats that are strong enough to swim by themselves, without help.”

“I think that’s for-” Peppermask paused, raising her head and perking her ears as a frown crossed her face. “What’s that sound?”

The other two quieted, straining to hear what she was talking about. Not even the river was making noise; only the rain hitting the leaves above them, or the birds grumpily chirping about the miserable weather. For a moment, he thought perhaps she was thinking about hunting, but then he heard it; the faintest wailing.

“I hear it too.” The ginger deputy replied with a frown. What could be making that sound? “Maybe it’s the wind?” He suggested after a moment.

“Maybe.” Peppermask responded hesitantly, but her ears were still focused on the direction the sound was coming from, which seemed to be somewhere upstream. They were silent for another few heartbeats before she shook her head. “No, it’s getting louder. It- If I didn’t know better, it sounds like-”

She cut off, holding her breath, and Fireheart could feel himself do the same. The wailing was getting louder and louder; only heartbeats later, he realized he could make out words. “Mom! Dad! Anyone! Help us!” 

“That’s kits.” Graystripe gasped in horror. “Fireheart, where- what do-”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his question as something large rounded the bend in the river in front of them. His heart felt as though it skipped a beat as he realized what he was looking at - three kits were floating towards them on a broken branch, clinging desperately to it. They were young - two to three moons old, if he had to guess - and screaming their heads off. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?” He could hear one yowl over the rest.

The other two warriors looked instinctively to him, even as he felt frozen in place. “I- We can’t swim.” He glanced questioningly to Graystripe beside him, wondering if perhaps his time with Silverstream had taught him how, but the gray tom shook his head. “Maybe we could go fetch a Riverclanner? Surely they can’t be far, if-”

They all gasped as they saw the branch the three kits were on suddenly shudder and stop, as though it had hit something. Then it broke apart, and they plunged into the river.

“Fireheart- What are you-?” He didn’t even know why Peppermask was yowling until he felt a shock of cold all around him. He had jumped into the river, and was now kicking determinedly to keep himself afloat and swim towards where the kits had been. “Starclan above, I-”

He didn’t know what had caused her to stop talking until he heard one splash, then another, behind him. Though he didn’t stop to look, he already knew what had happened - his friends had thrown themselves into the waters to help. And while the water seemed almost deceptively still on the surface, he could feel the current pulling at him, threatening to tear him away. 

The kits bobbed up and down in the water as it pulled them, trying to keep their heads afloat, but they were still small - almost the same age as his niblings, he couldn’t help but think. They were too young to have learned to swim yet, and their muscles had barely developed. If he didn’t make it to them soon, he-

Horror seized him as one of them dipped below the water, coming up a moment later with a ragged gasp. He propelled himself towards it, reaching out and clenching it in his jaws. It tasted disgusting, like rancid fish and mud, but he didn’t let that stop him as he struggled to turn towards the shore. Gratefulness surged through him as he saw the two other Thunderclanners on his tail, drifting by him to snag the other two kits.

Now was the most difficult part - getting back to the shore. Already his limbs felt tired, and now he had an extra weight as well. But he couldn’t let himself stop now - if he did, then both he and the kit he was holding would drown. He lashed out, beating at the water with frantic paws as he tried to swim towards dry land.

The current felt as though it was trying to push him away from the shore, and each stroke he made seemed as though it wasn’t making any progress. He could see the shoreline moving in front of him as the floodwaters carried them downstream, and he tried not to let panic surge through him. He could make it. He would make it-

Relief washed over him as he felt something scrabble beneath his front paws, and with another kick he found himself on solid ground.The current still tugged at him, threatening to bowl him over, but he trudged forward with determination until at last he felt his paws rise out of the water and onto dry land.

He nearly fell to the ground, limp and exhausted, but forced himself to drop the kit and turn to see if his friends needed help. They had also managed to find the same shallow section of water, and clambered out alongside him. Once he was sure they were all safe, he allowed his legs to buckle and fall to the ground, shivering and shaking from the near death experience that they had all just gone through.

The kits huddled together as they stared, wide-eyed, at the three warriors in front of them. The largest of them was a dark gray tabby tom, while the other two were a pale gray and a little brown and ginger tabby. The river had washed away whatever Clan-scent they might have carried - all he knew for sure was that they weren’t Thunderclan, as only his niblings remained in the nursery.

“What are your names?” Peppermask finally asked. The three looked at her with the same silent stare that they had regarded him with, refusing to answer. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a small sigh before straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s rude of me to ask your names without giving you ours. My name is Peppermask; this is my brother, Graystripe, and my friend, Fireheart.”

The three kits stared unblinkingly at her, and Fireheart wondered if perhaps they were mute, or deaf like Snowkit. “I’m Aspenkit.” The largest of the kits finally mewed, to his relief. “And these are my sisters, Dawnkit and Robinkit.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aspenkit.” The gray tabby molly purred, though her voice was weak from exhaustion. Fireheart purred wordlessly beside her, grateful that at the very least, they had names for the kits - and that they seemed to be Clanborn, as well. That meant that they had a Clan they could be returned to. “You were calling for your Mom and Dad, weren’t you? Do you know their names?”

The three kits quickly conferred with each other. “The other queens call Mom Ivy… Ivystep?” Robinkit mumbled aloud.

“No, I think it’s Ivykit.” Dawnkit corrected her sister confidently.

“Is not! Mom’s not a kit!” Robinkit huffed, her little tail lashing angrily.

“You’re both wrong.” Aspenkit interjected with his own self-important authority.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s her name, know-it-all?” Dawnkit asked, the two little mollies glaring at their brother.

“I don’t-”

“I think they might be talking about Ivyskip.” Fireheart was grateful to hear Peppermask speak up before the three kits could get into a full blown fight over it. “She’s one of the Riverclan queens. I think Lilystem - that’s one of the other Riverclan queens - mentioned something about her having had kits with Frogleap a couple moons ago. But - I don’t understand. Riverclan camp is downstream from here. How did you three get all the way up here? Did Riverclan retreat to the moors, because of the flooding?”

The three lowered their heads shamefully at her question. “It’s my fault.” Aspenkit mumbled at last. “The warriors were talking so much about the gorge, how big and dangerous it was right now, and I wanted to see it for myself ‘cause I didn’t believe them. Dawnkit and Robinkit followed me. But then when we were coming back, it started raining, so we hid in a willow tree, but the waters just kept getting higher and higher and then Dawnkit fell in so we tried to rescue her and-”

“Shh, that’s enough.” Peppermask leaned out to lap the kit’s forehead reassuringly. “What matters right now is that you’re all safe. Is it just the three of you? Did you have any other siblings?”

The three shook their heads in tandem. “No. It’s only the three of us in the nursery right now. Mom says that’ll change when Silverstream has her kits, but-”

Fireheart could see Graystripe’s eyes glittering at the mention of Silverstream’s kits - his kits - and forced himself not to let his lip curl or his claws unsheathe. “That’s good, then.” He mewed quickly. “We don’t have to worry about rescuing any other kits. We just have to get these three back to their mother.” With a deep sigh, he glanced at Graystripe. “Where do you think Riverclan would be right now?”

The large tom hesitated. “I’m not sure. I know their camp is close to the river, so it’s probably been flooded. If they knew the flood was coming, they might have had time to get to the moors, or to Fourtrees, but-”

“The flood was so sudden. It wasn’t like this even last night. I don’t think they would have had the time to evacuate so far away.” Peppermask interrupted, her green eyes narrowed as she considered the question. “Maybe they’re at Sunningrocks? The elders’ tales say it used to be flooded, long ago, and that only Riverclan cats could get to them. That probably means that they’re taller than most of the flood waters, and we know that they’re close to Riverclan’s camp.”

“Wait, you aren’t Riverclan?” Aspenkit squeaked, his kit-blue eyes narrowing as he regarded them suspiciously. “But only Riverclan cats can swim!”

Fireheart sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re from Thunderclan.” 

The two mollies backed up as he spoke, but Aspenkit held fast and continued to glare at them. “But you’re not scary at all.” The little tomkit announced, his little tail lashing confidently. “Thunderclan warriors are supposed to be super huge, and only able to come out of the forest at night! That’s what Grampa Cedarpelt told us, and he’s super wise.” 

“That’s actually a myth. We’re able to come out of the woods when the sun isn’t in the sky… like right now.” Graystripe purred, getting up and stalking closer to the three kits. The two mollies shrieked, and even Aspenkit backed up a few tiny pawsteps. “And once we do, we love eating little Riverclan kits as snacks…”

“You stop that!” Peppermask huffed and smacked her brother with her tail, though even she couldn’t hide the smirk on her face as she did so. “Thunderclan cats are ordinary cats, just like any Riverclanner. And while we might not like to swim, we still can…” She considered them with a soft gaze - the same one she used whenever she watched Princess’ kits. “You kits are old enough to have learned some of the code, right? Do you know what it says about kits?”

“We get to be fed first!” Aspenkit yowled eagerly, having clearly forgotten his fear of them in his desire to be right.

“We have to be six moons old before we become apprentices?” Robinkit wondered aloud, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Peppermask purred warmly at the two of them. “You’re both right, but those aren’t the parts of the code I’m thinking of.” She focused on Dawnkit, who was hiding behind her brother. “What about you, Dawnkit? Can you tell me?”

She stared at Peppermask with wide, fearful blue eyes. “I-” She glanced at her siblings, who were clearly not afraid of the Thunderclan cats like she was, and stepped out from behind Aspenkit. “The- the code says you can’t hurt kits, no matter where they come from. That’s why you saved us, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Fireheart affirmed to the small, shy gray kit. “It is the duty of a warrior to protect all kits, regardless of Clan. We might be Thunderclan, but we wouldn’t be warriors if we allowed you to drown. We follow the code, always, and that means we’ll get you safely to your parents. I promise.”

He could see that his reassurance had comforted Dawnkit, if only a little bit. “Okay.” She mumbled at last.

“Will you allow us to carry you?” Peppermask asked the three kits gently. “Sunningrocks - if that is where your Clan is - is a long way from here. It will be faster if we can carry you - and safer for you, as well.”

Robinkit and Aspenkit immediately nodded their assent, but Dawnkit looked doubtful. “But what if they’re not there?” She asked Peppermask in a small voice.

The tabby molly’s shoulders slumped, but she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t at the forefront of all of their minds. “I… I guess you’d have to stay in our camp, for now. If they’re not at Sunningrocks, then they must have made it to the highlands, and there’s no way to reach those without crossing the river. And with the river as flooded as it is, I don’t think there’s any way to cross.” She sighed and dipped her head, seeing the trepidation in the kits’ eyes at her words. “It will only be for a half-moon, at most. If we can’t reunite you today, then we’ll bring you to the Gathering and give you to Riverclan then. But we’ll see them at Sunningrocks, I’m sure of it.”

Though her voice sounded confident and upbeat, Fireheart could tell she didn’t believe her own words. Luckily, the kits didn’t seem to notice. “Come on, Dawnkit! Stop worrying so much! Warriors always know what they’re doing!” Aspenkit purred, giving his sister a hearty nudge that almost sent her tumbling over.

“I… Alright.” Dawnkit mewed at last, before rushing over and wrapping herself around Peppermask’s paws. “But I want this one to carry me!”

“That’s fine.” Fireheart purred readily. Peppermask was the softest touch, in any case, and Dawnkit seemed the most fragile - he wouldn’t have made a different choice. “Graystripe, why don’t you take Aspenkit, and I’ll carry Robinkit?”

Peppermask came out of the shadows near the den to stand by his side. “Fireheart. I was going to wake you at moonhigh, but…” She cast her eyes away, and he followed his friend’s gaze to where Lionheart and Whitestorm were sitting outside the nursery, discussing something with each other. “Bluestar is refusing to move. Whitestorm went in to tell her it was time to name a new deputy, and she sent him away!”

He bristled in shock as he glanced up to the sky above. The moon had well passed the highest point of its arc in the sky, and was now reaching towards the edges of the treeline. “But the code says-”

“I know. We all do.” The gray tabby shook her head in bewilderment. “No one knows what to do. Everyone’s listening to Whitestorm, at least for now, but he can’t succeed Bluestar if- if something else-”

She broke off with a shiver, and Fireheart quickly pressed comfortingly into her side. Even though they both had known that Tigerclaw was a code-breaker and killer, never would they have expected him to boldly allow a pack of bloodthirsty rogues into the heart of their camp so he could kill Bluestar. He couldn’t fault her for feeling the same loss of security that they all were. “Has this ever happened before? Perhaps there’s something in the code…” He trailed off, not sure what he was hoping for her to answer. Surely a deputy betraying their own leader was unprecedented.

They sat there in silence for a moment as she considered it. “Sometimes Starclan sends a sign for who the next deputy should be.” Peppermask mewed slowly, her eyes narrowed in heavy concentration. “It would be a healer that interprets their will, of course. If something were to happen to Bluestar with no deputy announced, then it’s possible Yellowfang or Dewpaw could appoint a deputy in her stead. Whether the Clan would accept that…”

He knew what she meant, even though neither said it aloud. Yellowfang was an outsider, a former Shadowclanner, and though no cat knew it besides him and Dewpaw she could no longer speak to Starclan. If she announced the new deputy - the new leader, if Bluestar died without a replacement - then there would be those that saw it as Shadowclan interference, even though he doubted it would mean a revolt. Meanwhile, Dewpaw was still only an apprentice, and while she had trained faithfully the elders would likely claim she was too young to be interpreting such an important sign, and their word held great weight within the Clan. 

He glanced at the healer’s den, wondering if either were inside, or if they were in the nursery trying to coax out Bluestar. He couldn’t see inside the dark rocky entrance to tell if any cats were moving within the den, and instead turned his gaze back to camp. He could see and hear cats all around camp discussing the same thing he and Peppermask were; the elders, in particular, looked nearly mutinous as they glared angrily at Lionheart and Whitestorm guarding the nursery entrance.

Even as they talked, no cat moved to try and challenge the two toms to access Bluestar. Every cat knew that she trusted the weight of Whitestorm’s word the most; if he hadn’t been able to get her to name a deputy, no cat could. As much as it pained Fireheart to sit by and watch, he knew there was nothing he could do but speculate. He didn’t control Bluestar; only Starclan could do that, now.

“What about Tigerclaw?” He asked at last, turning his attention to things he could control. “I know every cat did their best to teach the rogues a lesson, but if they come back now, while we’re still recovering…”

“Whitestorm already sent a patrol after him, a little while before sunset. He left across the Thunderpath with the rest of the rogues.” She curled her lip and looked away into the bramble wall surrounding camp, as though she could see all the way to the dark stone border. “We didn’t try to follow him beyond that.”

Though it troubled him to hear that they had so readily absorbed the traitor, he was glad to hear that they had at least departed the territory. Hopefully Tigerclaw wouldn’t return until they’d had a chance to strengthen their defenses. “I hope they stay gone.” He muttered as he surveyed the camp, taking stock of each cat. His eyes narrowed as he realized that one warrior in particular was missing. “I don’t see your brother.” He hissed quietly.

The molly’s green eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled at the mention of the gray tom. “I haven’t seen him since sunhigh. He told Tigerclaw he was going ‘hunting’.” They shared a glance, knowing full well what Graystripe had really meant by that. “I doubt he even knows that-”

There was a flurry of commotion by the nursery, and Peppermask cut herself off as the two of them turned to see Bluestar emerge from the well-defended brambles. The silver leader looked thin and gaunt, like a frail skeleton of a cat, as she shambled over to the Highrock. Around the clearing, cats slowly padded out to sit beneath its shadow, all eyes on their leader. There was no need to call them together, and she made no attempt to as she turned to face them.

Her eyes briefly swept over the crowd, but she seemed almost as though she was looking through everyone, like they were mere shadows in her path. “I will only say this once, so listen well.” Bluestar rasped, her voice barely audible even as a chilling hush had fallen over the clearing.

“I say these words before Starclan, so they may hear and approve of my choice.” Fireheart briefly glanced to the sky; though he could not see the stars through the foliage concealing camp, he knew that they were looking down on Thunderclan at that very moment. He looked back at Bluestar as she paused, wondering if he had missed her next words, but she was looking at her paws as though lost in thought. Had she forgotten who she was going to name?

The crowd began glancing uneasily at each other, the silence growing painfully tense as they waited for her to speak. Just as Whitestorm was stepping forward to stand by her side, she raised her head and he stilled.

“Fireheart will be the new deputy of Thunderclan.”

He blinked in confusion at the sound of his name. That couldn’t be right. He knew the code just as well as any warrior here; a warrior had to have at least one apprentice before becoming deputy. That automatically exempted him, as well as Willowbranch and her kits. “Bluestar, I-”

As he raised his head to meet the leader’s gaze, he realized that she was already gone, stumbling across camp with Whitestorm gently guiding her. He realized with a jolt that most of the cats were staring at him, and a great cacophony had started up while he was in his thoughts.

“Don’t lead her away!” It was Patchpelt snarling after Whitestorm, who didn’t seem to be listening to what was going on behind them. “Make her come back here and name a real deputy!”

“Fireheart is a real deputy!” Cinderspark snapped at the elder, her thick fur bristling angrily. “I’m sure he’ll do better than Tigerclaw!”

“But the code says that a deputy must have had at least one apprentice. Fireheart hasn’t mentored any cat before.” Willowbranch fretted, turning her eyes up to the sky. “And that a deputy must be named before moonhigh. Bluestar has broken the code today; Starclan will be angry with us now.”

“Willowbranch is right.” One-eye pointed out softly, even as her good eye turned on the ginger tom in question. “It doesn’t matter if Fireheart would do a fine job. In Starclan’s eyes, he is not deputy.”

“Would you drag her back out here?” Mistspring spoke up from beside her former apprentice, her voice raspy and straining from her injury only moons prior. “You all saw the state that she was in. She doesn’t have the strength to do a proper ceremony. Whether we like it or not, Fireheart’s the deputy we have right now. We can worry about what Starclan thinks later, when she’s recovered.”

“Starclan was supposed to give her the strength to recover when they brought her back to life!” Smallear yowled from the other side of the crowd. “How do we know that her condition isn’t a punishment for being late with the ceremony?”

Fireheart flinched as he felt a cat come up on his other side, looking to see that Lionheart had approached him. “Do you remember when you first came here?” The golden tabby asked him softly, only loud enough for him and Peppermask to hear.

He blinked, and suddenly it felt as though he was transported back to that early newleaf day. The crowd had hissed and jeered at him then, with Dustleap being the loudest of all. “Do you back down from a challenge?” He wasn’t sure if it was the memory speaking, or Lionheart beside him now.

“Everyone.” Fireheart stepped forward to stand where Bluestar had been, turning to face the angry crowd. They quieted instinctually as he stood there. He felt small and weak under their eyes, like he was once again a scrawny kittypet asking for their acceptance. He glanced at Lionheart, who seemed to be almost smiling as he watched. Had he been smiling that day as well?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves jittering in the pit of his stomach. “I know the warrior code just as well as each of you. I know I’m not the deputy that any of you wanted, or even that Starclan wanted.” He glanced down at his paws, his mouth suddenly feeling as though he had just licked the dirt beneath them. “I didn’t ask Bluestar for this, either. There are- Thunderclan deserves a much better deputy than me.”

He raised his gaze to look out at the crowd, several brimming with hostility as they glared at him. He tried not to let them get to him as he took another deep breath. “But fighting about what Starclan would want and what Bluestar should do is pointless. This fighting - this is what Tigerclaw wants us to do. He wants us to turn against each other, to turn our backs on the code just like he did. If he can’t lead this Clan, then he’ll do his best to tear it down.” He met each gaze in the crowd as he spoke. “Are we going to let him do that?”

Several heartbeats passed in silence, and he worried that for some, the answer might very well be yes. Then Cinderspark stepped forward, her long tail lashing as she raised her head high. “Fireheart’s right. We’re not gonna back down just because that foxheart thinks he’s better than us. We’re Thunderclan, the best Clan in the forest, and Tigerclaw can eat our dirt!” She yowled, loud enough that Starclan above could hear her words.

“Fireheart is a good cat.” He blinked in surprise as Dappleshine stepped forward next, her green eyes soft as she looked upon him. “He’s the one that saved Bluestar from Tigerclaw, after all. He knew more than many of us ever did, walking alongside that-” She paused, her lip curling as she considered many choice words for the exiled deputy, “adder-tongue for many moons. He may be young, but we should trust in his judgement, at least for now.”

“We’ve always trusted Bluestar before. That shouldn’t change now.” Rosetail pointed out from near the back. “We don’t know her reasoning for picking him as deputy. Perhaps she was waiting for Starclan to show her a sign, and they did. It’s not up to us to decide what Starclan’s will is or isn’t.”

Several elders grumbled beside her, but they didn’t seem interested in voicing their complaints. “Thank you. All of you.” He did his best to bow to them without pulling apart his bandages. “I - I will do my best to be worthy of your trust.”

“Now that that’s settled, deputy.” He blinked as he realized Whitestorm had come up beside him while the others had been speaking. “What would you like me to do now?”

He felt himself freezing up in fear at the thought of actually leading these cats. He had only been a warrior for two seasons! He tried to stay on his paws as he thought of what a deputy should do. “Dawn patrols.” He said slowly to himself. “Tigerclaw and his rogues escaped across the Shadowclan border, so we’ll want to guard that one well. Lionheart - you’ll be in charge of that patrol, along with-” He glanced out among the crowd, trying to find warriors he knew would fight Tigerclaw with all their fury. “Tinyfrost, Cinderspark, and Dappleshine.”

Lionheart nodded readily, sweeping his large golden tail towards the other three. “We’ll start along the Twolegplace border, then, since that’s where he was last scented.” The great warrior replied steadily. “Come then, all of you. Dawn isn’t that far away, and we’ll want to get some rest before going out.”

He watched the warriors depart, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself. He could do this. “That leaves the Riverclan border. Mousefur, why don’t you take Cherrypaw, along with Willowbranch and Mistspring?”

The dusky brown molly stared at him as though he’d asked her to grow wings. “Tigerclaw didn’t want us taking apprentices along the Riverclan border with their recent aggression.” She pointed out to him.

“That was because they’d just been apprenticed and had no battle training. It’s been a moon now - surely they’ve had enough practice to handle themselves in a small skirmish?” He asked in response, even as panic welled up within him. In truth, he’d forgotten about it. He hadn’t heard of anything from Riverclan during the last Gathering, aside from their typical posturing over land rights. “Besides, you should try to avoid a fight, anyways. Yellowfang’s herbs are stretched thin as it is. Not that you should let them get away with hunting on our land if it comes to that, but-”

“I understand.” He was grateful for her interruption as she laid her tail on Cherrypaw beside her. “Besides, it will do her good to see the other border. I’ve heard enough complaining about the Thunderpath and Monsters for a lifetime!”

There were a few chuckles as she nudged her apprentice off, the other two warriors following her. “Peppermask, I hope you don’t mind being on hunting duty again. Take Longtail and Cedarpaw with you; try to stay somewhere close to camp, just in case.” He glanced at Whitestorm, considering the tom, but he had been one of the first defenders during the rogue attack. He could see that while the white warrior had not been wounded as badly as him, there were still several long patches of cobweb that hid a surely painful wound beneath. “Whitestorm and I will guard the camp.” He finished with a nod. That would at least get them through to sunhigh, he hoped.

“What about us?” He blinked and turned his head to see Sandstorm limp forward, Dustleap and their apprentices behind her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten us?” She added with narrowed eyes.

The thought of Tigerclaw’s children briefly sent a bolt of panic striking at his heart, but he did his best to conceal it. “You both have an apprentice, don’t you? Surely you can take them to the training hollow and figure something out.” He snapped back at her, refraining from lashing his tail as he spoke. He didn’t need to get into a fight with her, not now.

She shrank back as though he’d attacked her. “Er… right. Yeah, we can do that.” He stared at her in shock as she turned away, her tail low. He glanced at Whitestorm beside him, who was only looking at his former apprentice in worry. “We’ll see you at sunhigh, then.”

He watched them begin to walk away, guilt suddenly filling his mind. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to provoke such a reaction, but as he thought about it, he wondered if perhaps his face had shown the anger he’d tried to hide. After all, Tinyfrost had always said he showed his emotions too easily. “Er, Sandstorm, Dustleap, wait!” He called, the two tabbies turning to meet his gaze. “Can you take Thornpaw as well? He was Tigerclaw’s apprentice, and until Bluestar can assign him a new mentor, perhaps he’d do best training with his siblings.”

The cream molly studied him warily, as though suspecting some sort of trick from the change in attitude. At last, she dipped her head. “Of course we can.” She replied flatly, but he could see her head lift a little higher as she turned back to her den.

Now that the camp was devoid of warriors, everyone departing back to their dens, he heaved a sigh of relief. “You did well.” He looked up to Whitestorm, still standing next to him. “The Clan is skittish, like a frightened rabbit staring into a coyote’s gaze. They will find it difficult to trust, after everything that has happened. Do not take it to heart; it would be the same for any cat in your position, Starclan-appointed or not.” 

“Thank you, Whitestorm.” From all the warriors in camp, it meant the most to hear it from him. “I feel like they can all see that I have no idea what I’m doing. Quickflash and Tigerclaw took to it so easily, and-”

“They also had many moons of experience raising kits and training apprentices that you don’t.” The mighty warrior pointed out evenly, his golden eyes seeming almost amused as he looked down on the new deputy. “Though I am sure the Clan will silently measure you to him, do not feel you have to follow Tigerclaw’s paws. After all,” He muttered darkly, casting a glance towards the tunnel entrance, “that is how we got into this mess in the first place.”

Fireheart tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked curiously. Whitestorm, having been apprenticed alongside Tigerclaw, was perhaps the only remaining cat that knew him best. Had he reason to suspect the exiled deputy’s motive?

His heart sank as Whitestorm shook his head. “Nevermind that. I hope you don’t mind if I continue to guard the nursery? My aunt…” The great warrior looked away with a sigh. “You saw how she is.”

“She will recover. If not thanks to Starclan, then thanks to Yellowfang.” Fireheart replied gently, doing his best to comfort the older warrior. For a moment, Whitestorm seemed weak and vulnerable, rather than the mighty and wise warrior he had always known. “But of course you can guard her, at least until your wounds heal. If you can, ask Frostfur and Goldenflower to rotate with you. If you trust them, of course.”

Whitestorm nodded once at his last words. “Frostfur may be vicious at times, but she has a good heart. I’m told you’ve seen that yourself.” Fireheart glanced up at the larger tom, trying to read what he meant, but he’d already looked away towards the nursery. “As for Goldenflower, she wouldn’t hurt a flea - unless it was threatening the nursery, that is. I don’t envy Tigerclaw if he tries to find that out.” He glanced at the leader’s den behind him. “If it’s alright, I’ll have Speckleflight and Snowkit do their best to clean that out when dawn comes, so that Bluestar can return to it.”

He winced slightly as he realized the bloody trails out of it were still there, a painfully visible reminder of the treachery that had transpired earlier that day. “Of course. When Cherrypaw returns from patrol, have her help, too.” 

“I will.” With that, Whitestorm departed, gently padding across camp and nosing into the nursery to check on Bluestar. Upon making sure that the leader was resting, he took a seat in front of the entrance, eyes flicking around camp for any sign of movement.

Fireheart was just about to take a seat near the elders’ den when he saw another cat approach out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see it was Peppermask, having remained while every other cat had left. “If it’s alright, I’d like to join you on guard duty tonight.” She mewed softly to him, her green gaze indecipherable.

He hesitated to agree. “Shouldn’t you be resting for your hunting patrol?” Fireheart asked gently in return. He knew she wasn’t challenging his authority; she was the only one he would expect to support him, given everything that had happened. Still, it did feel strange that she wasn’t taking the opportunity to sleep before the patrol.

“I’m not tired.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him briefly, before taking a seat next to him. “Besides, you’re injured. If Tigerclaw comes back tonight, you won’t exactly be able to take him on.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He glanced up at the sky, imagining for a brief moment the stars above. “Fine, then. We can sit guard together - at least until it’s time for your patrol.”

“That’s all I ask.” She purred, settling in next to him. He had to admit he didn’t mind the extra warmth in the chilly leafbare night - and, in any case, it would help to quell his anxieties to have an extra cat beside him tonight. Fireheart turned his gaze out onto the shadows, fur prickling as he remembered Tigerclaw’s dire warning. 

For a moment, Fireheart wondered if perhaps the apprentice was referring to something ordinary that he hadn’t seen before, like a woodpecker or an evergreen tree. Instead, his blood ran cold after he heard the unmistakable call of his sister.

“Fireheart! Fireheart, where are you?” Her voice floated through the still leafbare air, and it wasn’t long before the other cats in the patrol turned to him.

“It sounds like someone calling your name.” Brackenpaw observed softly. “Do you know who it is?”

He hesitated, not sure what to say. He’d told Princess not to ever enter the forest, not even in search of him. Why was she breaking that rule now, and why did it have to be while he was on patrol with the others? “I can’t tell from here.” Fireheart deflected, quickening his pace. As much as he wished the others would stay behind, he could hear them crunching away behind him in the snow, going off the well-worn patrol path into the deeper woods.

It didn’t take him long to find her, stumbling along in the woods without a clue where she was going. Fireheart paused for a brief moment, knowing all too well that the other warriors would see any sign of familiarity as a betrayal of the code. Then, he realized, it was already too late - Princess had been calling his Clan name, one that had only been given to him when he was supposed to have abandoned the Twolegplace entirely for several seasons.

“Princess.” He mewed to alert her to his presence before stepping out to press into her side. “You should be resting in your housefolks’ nest. What are you doing out here?”

She turned her warm green eyes to him, and for a brief heartbeat the tension he felt from his three Clanmates behind him melted away. “Fireheart! I knew you’d come.” She mewed, returning his greeting and twining her tail with his briefly. She tossed her head defiantly at his question. “I’m leaving them, Fireheart. I’ll never go back to that nest again!”

“Fireheart? Do you know this… kittypet?” He ignored Dustleap’s question behind him, instead focusing on his sister next to him. Her belly was swollen with kits now, just like Goldenflower’s had been less than a quarter-moon before she’d kitted. It was dangerous for her to be out here in this cold, he worried to himself.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving them?” Fireheart asked her incredulously. “What about your kits? They need somewhere safe, and warm-”

“My kits are why I’m doing this.” Princess interrupted him firmly before he could finish speaking. “I won’t let my kits grow up to be used like my housefolk used me. I want to give them a better life, where they have the freedom to choose their own paths.” She fixed him with a hard, determined stare. “I want to join Thunderclan.”

Fireheart wheezed slightly at her statement. Life in the Clans was difficult, and he suddenly wondered if he had given her a rosier depiction of his life as a warrior than he’d intended by avoiding telling her the whole truth about what was happening. “Princess, I-”

“A soft Twoleg toy like you could never make it in Thunderclan!” Dustleap yowled, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. “It’s not your decision whether or not this kittypet can stay, Fireheart. Get rid of that thing so we can finish this patrol.”

For a heartbeat, he genuinely considered Dustleap’s command. He was right, after all; Princess had never spent even a day outside of a Twoleg nest. How was she supposed to survive in the wild? But as he thought about it, the anger of all the taunts he had received from the spiteful tabby welled up within him. Ever since the first day he had joined Thunderclan, Dustleap had refused to believe a cat with kittypet blood could make it in the wild. He had been wrong then, and he was wrong now.

“You’re right, Dustleap.” Fireheart mewed, turning to the dark tabby that looked so much like his father. Dustleap’s look of smug superiority made his claws itch, but he kept them sheathed. “Unfortunately for you, it’s not your decision either. There’s only one cat in the Clan that can decide whether she stays, and that’s Bluestar.”

Seeing the smug look drop from Dustleap’s face was already reward enough. “But- She-” He sputtered out, turning to Tinyfrost in frustration.

Tinyfrost was as stoic as ever, his icy blue eyes hiding whatever he might be thinking. “Fireheart is right.” The small black tom finally mewed, even as Dustleap bristled angrily. “She has made a petition to join the Clan, and only the leader can decide whether to turn her away. This decision is in Bluestar’s paws now.”

Dustleap’s lip curled bitterly, but he knew he was outnumbered. “Fine. Brackenpaw, go and fetch-”

“It’s too cold out for that. She’ll surely freeze standing here before Brackenpaw can return.” Fireheart blinked in surprise as Tinyfrost spoke again. Was he also enjoying seeing Dustleap flounder like this? “We’ll have to take her back to camp with us.”

“Are you mad?” Dustleap growled, his yellow eyes darting angrily between the two former kittypet warriors. “Show her right to our camp? We might as well just invite the other Clans in for a tour while we’re at it!”

“She is my sister, not a spy.” Fireheart snapped back firmly at Dustleap, tired of the back and forth and mildly insulted by the implication. “Come on, Princess. Our camp is this way.”

If Dustleap said anything else, he didn’t hear it, instead walking into the forest towards camp, making sure to take a slow pace that his sister could follow. She seemed reluctant to follow, hesitating briefly, but it was only a few heartbeats before she was walking in time with him. “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” She murmured gently to him. “I know you said that your Clanmates didn’t care for kittypets, but I-”

“Don’t worry about Dustleap. He’d find fault with you even if you grew wings and flew.” He glanced behind him to see that the other three cats were quickly catching up. “You didn’t get me in trouble, I promise.”

She was quiet for a few moments, and he glanced to make sure she wasn’t having trouble keeping pace. “I’m still sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I waited for you and you didn’t come…”

Fireheart winced slightly at that. He’d been meaning to visit her for several days now, but with everything happening with Tigerclaw, he’d been too worried about being followed. That seemed silly, now. “What’s happened has happened.” He replied simply, keeping his eyes on the forest ahead.

In truth, he’d longed to have family in the Clan with him - someone with whom he could share his struggles, and who he knew would always care for him even when times were tough. When they’d first met, he’d even offered for her to join alongside him - an offer he knew was rash and short-sighted, but he hadn’t cared then. He hadn’t had so much to care about then. Yet even though Fireheart hadn’t anticipated this, he couldn’t deny that he wanted her to stay now.

“If you’re going to be staying here, you might as well get to know everyone’s names.” Fireheart mewed after a moment, trying to lighten the tension. “You’ve already met Dustleap, of course. He’s a warrior, like I am. He just got his first apprentice, Brackenpaw - the smaller tabby there.” 

He glanced back to see Dustleap glowering at him, while Brackenpaw ducked his head shyly at the mention of his name. He turned back to his sister with a purr. “The black tom is Tinyfrost. He was my mentor when I was an apprentice.”

His sister ogled the three cats behind them for a few heartbeats, then turned her gaze back to him. “Are- are you sure he’s not an apprentice too?” She did her best to whisper, but he could tell it still carried back to the other three from the hiss of indignation from the little warrior. “He- he’s just so small!” She added quickly, ducking her head apologetically.

“Well, he’s called Tinyfrost for a reason.” Fireheart chuffed, putting emphasis on the first part of his mentor’s name even as he felt the icy blue eyes boring a hole into his head. “Still, size isn’t everything. He’s one of the Clan’s best warriors, and he taught me everything I know today.” Certainly better than Tigerclaw, not that he dared to say that out loud with Dustleap right there.

“I see.” Princess mewed, nodding cordially back to where the other three were walking behind them. “Well, it’s nice to meet you all. I hope I’ll get to know you all better in time.”

He didn’t look to see their reactions, but he could tell from Dustleap’s low growls that he was only barely restraining himself from unleashing a torrent of derisive remarks. He satisfied himself with thinking of the notch in the tabby’s ear that he had left on his very first day in Thunderclan. 

The trek back to camp was slow, and he could tell the others were getting impatient with the pace of travel. Still, Fireheart wasn’t about to rush his sister, especially with how swollen her belly was. He could tell even their slow walk was taking a toll on her, though she was determined to put up a front that she was fine, just as he had on his first trip to the Thunderclan camp.

As they finally reached the ravine, he flicked his ear in surprise as he heard one of the toms behind them rush past. It was Brackenpaw, racing into camp ahead of them. As Fireheart turned questioningly to the other two, Dustleap met his gaze with a condescending smirk. “He’s going to tell Bluestar about our little visitor.” He sneered at the former kittypet and his sister.

His stomach churned nervously at the thought of Bluestar. How would she react, especially after what had transpired between them? He blinked the thoughts away quickly. “That’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want to spring this on her suddenly.” He replied, watching Dustleap’s face scrunch up in anger at the praise. He had clearly been hoping to get a rise out of Fireheart, but he was not going to respond in such a petty manner in front of Princess.

He helped his sister down the slope, finding the bare patches of rock that she could hop on to prevent her from slipping. It felt like an eternity before he was finally showing her the bramble entrance of camp, and with a deep breath following her through the tunnel into the heart of Thunderclan.

Bluestar was already waiting for them next to Brackenpaw. “Fireheart.” She greeted him cordially, but her flicking tail tip and fiery glare told him how much trouble he was in. “Brackenpaw tells me you’ve brought your kittypet sister back to camp. Why?”

He stood tall in front of her, trying not to let himself be cowed by her anger. “Her name is Princess, and she wishes to join Thunderclan.” He beckoned her forward to stand beside him with his tail, even as his heart beat faster and faster. Surely Bluestar wouldn’t take her frustrations with him out on her? “Princess, this is Bluestar. She is Thunderclan’s leader, and it’s up to her whether or not you can stay.”

“It’s not just up to me.” He blinked in surprise at the leader’s sharp retort. “I thought you would have understood by now, Fireheart, that the actions of one cat affect the entire Clan. And it is up to the Clan to decide whether to accept a new member.” He watched her blue gaze flick over the form of his sister before turning and scaling up the Highrock. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

Even as her voice rang out, he could see faces cautiously appearing around camp - cats that had smelled his sister’s foreign scent and were curious what had happened. They came out of the shadows at her call, assembling beneath the shadow of the leader even as heads craned curiously towards his direction. Dustleap and Tinyfrost left to join them, leaving Fireheart alone with his sister.

“It is rare that an outsider comes to join Thunderclan. As you all know, Fireheart was the first such cat in many seasons to join the Clan. You have all seen him prove himself and earn his name; he has worked diligently to become a warrior just as any forest-born cat.” He scanned the crowd as she spoke, gauging their mood. Only Dustleap’s tail was lashing angrily; the rest seemed cautious but curious. “Now he has brought his sister from the Twolegplace, and claims she wishes to join Thunderclan.” Her blazing blue eyes turned on his sister. “Tell us, stranger; why should we allow you to join our noble ranks?”

Princess’ eyes flicked nervously to her brother beside her, and he nosed her cheek gently. “Speak the truth, whatever it may be.” He whispered to her. “I am sure they will see your passion, just as I have.”

She nodded and stepped forward nervously to gaze at the crowd. Most of the warriors and apprentices were still out on patrol, meaning that it was largely queens and elders that sat waiting to judge her. He hoped that they would show his sister the same courtesy they did him, but he also knew that they could be cantankerous and grumpy. What if they rejected her instead of listening?

“Cats of Thunderclan,” Princess mewed, soft at first, but slowly growing louder. “I am honored to finally meet the warriors I have heard so much about. Fireheart tells me that you are brave, and righteous, and honorable. Those are qualities I hope to instill in my own kits, one day.”

She glanced back at him, panic washing over her face for a moment. He nodded encouragingly, and she took a deep breath and looked back out at the gathered cats. “My brother has told me how strong the bonds within a Clan are. How you care for each other like family, and how you love…” She trailed off for a moment, glancing down at her paws. “Love is why I have come to you today. As you likely see, my belly is swollen with kits that are soon to be born. Like many kittypets, I did not love their father - I didn’t even know him. My mate was chosen for me by Twolegs.”

He heard a few gasps of shock in the crowd. “I have heard how different life is in the Clans. The freedom to roam your forest territories, the pleasure of tasting fresh kills, the choice to take whatever mate you choose - all of these are luxuries I do not have as a kittypet. And they are luxuries my kits will never have, if they are born in a Twoleg nest.” Her green eyes shimmered with stinging tears as she looked out at the crowd. “I want their lives to be different from mine. I want them to be better than mine. That is why I have come to ask to join your noble Clan.”

“I harbor no delusions about the difficulties of Clan life. I know how soft and comfortable my former life as a kittypet was.” She stood a little taller, straightening her shoulders slightly. “But if you would have me, I pledge my life and the lives of my kits to Thunderclan to serve as warriors. I will never return to the wretched Twolegs who would treat my life and the lives of my kits as a mere plaything. I promise that to each and every one of you.”

There was silence as she finished speaking, and he looked over the crowd carefully. Many were stoic and hard to read, like One-eye and Smallear. Others looked sympathetic, like Rosetail, but he wasn’t sure if it was enough to sway their opinions. Yellowfang and Dewpaw sat off to the side, but he knew better than to hope that they would interfere in Clan affairs on his behalf.

He held his breath, waiting for someone to break the silence. “Isn’t having one kittypet in the Clan enough?” His ears lowered as he heard Dustleap’s familiar yowl from amongst the crowd. “She’ll be nothing but a burden, eating all our food until she’s had her fill before returning to the Twolegplace. In the middle of leafbare, no less! We need to send this Twoleg toy back to where she belongs before we all starve.”

His eyes scanned the crowd desperately, but he could see a couple of the elders nodding agreement. “The Clan has enough mouths to feed already.” He heard Patchpelt call. “Dustleap’s right: the kindest thing we could do is send her back. She’s much too soft to live long in the wild.”

He looked over the crowd, his hope faltering. He could see his sister shrink back from the hostility, and as much as he longed to comfort her, there was no comfort he could give that would block out what was happening. It seemed the Clan had decided; Princess would not be allowed to join.

Just as he saw Bluestar open her mouth to speak, a voice rang out from the crowd. “You dare to call this queen soft?”

He blinked in confusion, searching the crowd for the source of the call. To his shock, Frostfur stood up, her blue eyes filled with a roaring fire as she looked at the cats around her. “Before us stands a queen that has just abandoned everything she knows to humbly submit herself to the whims of the Clan. Not only that, but she has offered her kits as thanks - to grow up as warriors, to defend the Clan and give their lives for us.” 

The crowd parted to stare at her, all in shock of hearing her defend an outsider. “Any queen can tell you of the fierce love they have for their kits, even before they are born. We would do anything to give our kits the best chance they have at life.” The white queen turned to stare up at the leader. “I am sure even you, Bluestar, remember that feeling.”

“And yet despite that, this queen has left her warm nest, one that would surely protect her kits from any harm that might befall them.” Frostfur turned back to Princess and gave her a nod of respect. “She has braved the cold without complaint, has spoken to us from the depths of her heart, and is willing to give the greatest sacrifice a mother could give - and you dare to call that soft?” 

Fireheart didn’t know what to say - and for a moment, it seemed like no one else in the Clan did either. At last, Bluestar composed herself. “Dappleshine? Speckleflight?” She turned to the two older queens amongst the crowd.

Speckleflight herself looked baffled at the sudden shift in behavior from the younger queen, but after a moment slowly dipped her head. “Frostfur speaks the truth. The lives of her kits are paramount to a queen, and she would not offer them idly. We should respect that, at least.”

Dappleshine nodded assent from beside her mate. “It may take time, but the Clan needs more warriors. This queen has spent the past few moons being well cared for by Twolegs - her kits will be born healthy and strong. It would be foolish to turn away such a boon because of its origin.”

Even Smallear was nodding now. “Fireheart has been a fine warrior for Thunderclan. If we’re to assume blood is so important, then we should happily let his sister join. If her children are half the warriors he is, then we will be lucky to have them.”

One-eye snorted and muttered something under her breath beside him, earning a hiss from the elderly tom. Still, it was clear that after Frostfur’s speech, the majority of the Clan seemed open to the idea, if not welcoming. He looked nervously up to Bluestar, who was still glaring down at them. His heart lurched. Surely she wouldn’t-

“It seems the Clan is in agreement. Fireheart’s sister will be allowed to stay, and her kits raised to become Thunderclan warriors.” There were a few grumbles, mostly from Dustleap, but there was no dissent this time. “She will be Fireheart’s responsibility to hunt for, until such time that her kits have become part of the Clan.”

His heart leaped, and he glanced at Princess with barely contained glee. She would get to stay! “Will there be a naming ceremony?” One-eye called out from the crowd.

Fireheart held his breath as he looked up at the leader. Would his sister get the same honor he had upon being accepted into Thunderclan?

“He was hit by a Monster trying to flee from us.” Dustleap snarled before the old healer could set her burden down. “Yellowfang insists we should let him live instead of killing him for his crimes against the code!”

“He lives because Starclan wills it!” The cantankerous molly snapped back at him, turning a baleful copper gaze on the young tabby before turning to Bluestar. “They would not have let him return if they did not want him here. Starclan has spoken: Brokentail must be allowed to live!”

Bluestar looked upon the mangled tom uneasily. “Brokentail.” She murmured softly, her gaze cold and unkind - so different compared to how she often looked at Fireheart and the rest of her Clan. “What do you have to say in your defense?”

He couldn’t see the tabby’s expression from where he was standing, but the ginger tom could only imagine that the rogue’s face was twisted into a deep scowl. “I have nothing to say to you!” He spat at her spitefully. “Thunderclan is full of weak mousehearts. I should have driven you all out when I had the chance!”

The silver leader’s eyes narrowed at the provocative words, but she seemed almost amused by his words more than offended. “And yet you never could.” She replied steadily as she looked back up to the patrol. “I do not understand, Yellowfang. Brokentail has broken every law of Starclan’s noble code. And yet you claim he is here because they willed it?”

“Starclan is the one that grants us lives, Bluestar.” The grizzled healer responded with a dip of her head. “And they are the ones that can take them away, as well. If they had wanted him to die by the Thunderpath, they would have done so. And yet, they have allowed him to live. It is Starclan that judges us for our deeds; if they have decided he still deserves to live, then who are we to claim that we know better?”

Fireheart refrained from rolling his eyes at the healer’s superstitious nonsense. There was no such thing as multiple lives; every cat knew that, or else Quickflash might have come back. Whatever powers Starclan did have, it was very obvious from having met Redtail that they would not interfere so boldly by resurrecting such a horrible leader. Still, he knew better than to interrupt her.

His ear twitched as he heard someone emerge from the bramble tunnel behind them. Glancing back, he saw as Tigerclaw entered camp, his amber eyes glowing as he spotted his son next to Bluestar. The tabby tom made straight for the small crowd, while Peppermask and Darkstripe looked on curiously behind him.

Bluestar gave a slight nod to her deputy, but didn’t take her eyes off of Brokentail. “Be that as it may, Yellowfang, what would you have me do with him? Even if we let him live, he would die soon enough without aid.”

“You’re not suggesting we throw him out?” The healer sounded astonished, as though the thought had never occurred to her. He didn’t know why: it sounded like a perfectly sensible solution to him. “We would be no better than him, throwing out the broken to die in the wilderness!”

The fur on Bluestar’s scruff rose at that. Fireheart winced, remembering how irate she had been at Mosspaw’s exile. “Those are not remotely the same. He exiled innocent kits because he couldn’t be bothered to use herbs: he is a murderer, and should be treated as such.” Bluestar responded coldly. Tigerclaw nodded approvingly beside her, and though it rankled him to agree with the traitorous tabby, he had to admit he could not argue with her. “There is no place in our camp or our territory for him.”

“If I may, Bluestar.” The crowd turned to see One-eye approach slowly. “The Clan once took prisoners, many seasons ago, back in the days when we fought bitterly with Windclan for territory. It has been long since that foxhole was used, but-” She glanced disdainfully at the exiled rogue before them, “I’m sure it would still fit him.”

“Keep Brokentail? In our own camp? One-eye, you must be mad.” Tigerclaw growled as he shook his head. “He would murder our kits by sundown!”

“I’m old, not senile! You’d do well to remember that, Tigerclaw.” The old white molly swung her head to glare at the deputy with a snarl. “I may only have one eye left, but I can see as well as you can that he’ll never be able to walk again. Even if he does manage to escape the prison, I’m sure whatever warrior is on guard duty will be able to catch him before he makes it to the nursery. Unless you don’t trust them to take on a two-legged elder, in which case they shouldn’t be on guard duty at all.” The elder gave a wide yawn once she finished her speech, showing off her broken and missing fangs prominently.

The deputy growled lowly in response, but he seemed momentarily cowed by the elder. Fireheart was surprised and impressed - not many cats could speak to the mighty warrior that way and expect to keep their ears. Beside him, Bluestar seemed thoughtful. “Perhaps it would be better to have him somewhere we can keep an eye on him.” She mewed at last. “He has already demonstrated a remarkable ability to survive destruction, like a swarm of rats. If we didn’t kill him now, it’s impossible to know what harm he could bring later.”

“You’re not seriously considering it?” Dustleap huffed bitterly as he lashed his tail. “Well, I’m not hunting even a flea for this pile of crowfood! He can starve to death for all I care.”

He glanced at Bluestar, wondering what the leader was going to say, but it was Yellowfang that spoke first. “I will care for him.” The old molly growled roughly, dipping her head to the silver queen before her. “As healer, it is my responsibility to see to Starclan’s will. If this is how I must serve them, so be it.”

The leader watched Yellowfang with a scrutinizing gaze. At last, she nodded slowly. “Very well. So long as no undue burdens are placed upon my warriors, I see no reason not to imprison him. Being held captive by such weak mousehearts will surely be punishment enough for this rogue for whatever lifetime Starclan grants him.” She gazed down on the exile, her whiskers twitching in amusement as she threw his words back at him. “One-eye, show Yellowfang to the foxhole. Tigerclaw, I expect that there should now be two cats on guard duty at all times, with one being posted next to the prison.” 

The large tabby nodded slowly to the leader as One-eye began showing Yellowfang across camp, towards the apprentices’ den. “It will be done.” He mewed, though the irritation in his voice and his twitching tail tip indicated he still wasn’t quite pleased with this plan.

“What about the rest of Brokentail’s exiles?” Bluestar asked as she looked back to the rest of the patrol. “Longtail told me that they had been driven out. Do you think they will return?”

“It’s possible. None were killed in the attack.” Mousefur mewed as she stepped forward. “But I don’t think they will be so eager to attack us, especially not without their leader. I doubt we’ll be seeing them for many moons.”

“Make sure there’s a regular patrol along the Twolegplace border, as well.” The leader instructed Tigerclaw once the dusky brown molly had finished speaking. “Once a day will be enough - just to make sure that Brokentail’s rogues don’t find their way into our territory.”

“They were already hunting within our territory. We found crowfood near their nest, and one of them mentioned bringing back prey from our territory before the fight.” Mousefur mewed with a nod to Fireheart. “Fireheart and Longtail were right. Brokentail was already a threat, we just hadn’t realized it yet.”

“I see. I’m glad we acted quickly, then.” Bluestar mewed appreciatively. “You all will have to tell the other Clans of the battle at the next Gathering.” Fireheart perked his ears at that. She was already guaranteeing that he would get to go to the Gathering? The others would be thrilled to hear it. He started to get to his feet when the silver queen spoke again. “Though you could perhaps leave out the part about Brokentail himself.”

“Why?” Dustleap challenged brashly, his tail still lashing. “You’re not ashamed of taking in that old fleabag, are you?”

“No. I trust my healer’s word.” Bluestar replied, her gaze unwavering as she looked on at the reckless tabby warrior. “But mention of him will surely open old wounds. There is no reason to bring it up needlessly. If any cat asks, he died under that Monster’s paws.”

Dustleap sneered at that, but Fireheart nodded in understanding. Even with Yellowfang, the topic of the old Shadowclan tyrant seemed raw. He couldn’t imagine how it would be for Windclan, who lost their home to his greedy claws, or Shadowclan, who suffered cruelly underneath his leadership. She was right: it was best to leave the topic be.

The cats surrounding her began to disperse across the clearing. Fireheart watched as Cinderpaw bolted for the healer’s den - checking on her mentor, he realized guiltily. He had nearly forgotten about her in all that had happened after the battle. He was about to follow the gray apprentice when he stiffened and glanced back to Bluestar. “Has Graystripe returned from hunting yet?” He asked curiously.

She glanced at him, a small frown crossing her silvery muzzle. “He has not.” She admitted. “Why?”

He frowned at her response. It was unusual for any warrior to be out all day, but perhaps Graystripe had lost track of the sun. “You said you wanted two cats on guard duty. I was supposed to be the second, but then there was the battle.” Tigerclaw narrowed his amber eyes, and he added quickly, “I just wanted to offer to guard Brokentail first, at least until Tigerclaw assigns the night vigils.”

The deputy’s gaze stayed narrow, but Bluestar smiled in delight. “Of course, Fireheart. I appreciate the dedication. The Clan needs that more than ever these days.” She sighed softly as her blue eyes drifted across his pelt, torn from both the battle and the rose bush he had chased Brokentail through. “But you must see Yellowfang and Dewpaw afterwards. I can’t risk your wounds getting infected now that leafbare is here.”

“Of course.” He mewed with a dip of his head, taking the opportunity to dismiss himself. He crossed camp towards the ferns of the apprentices’ den that he had seen One-eye take Yellowfang. He paused by it, glancing around in confusion. She had mentioned a foxhole, but he had never seen one near their old den. 

“Looking for the prison?” He jumped as One-eye seemed to materialize beside him. “It’s over there, just behind the warriors’ den.” She pointed with a paw, and he followed it to see an almost-hidden hole in the ground. Long grass and a few tree shoots surrounded it; if she hadn’t pointed it out, he would have never seen it. “Well hidden, of course. We couldn’t have any enemies sneaking in to free their friends.”

“Thank you.” He mewed, trotting over. The hole was small, only big enough for a young apprentice to fit through comfortably. Tigerclaw, Lionheart and Whitestorm would never be able to fit in on their own. Then, he supposed, perhaps that was a good thing for Brokentail - it meant that the more murderous members of the Clan wouldn’t enact their own justice on him.

He threw back his shoulders and started to squeeze his way in. He didn’t need to see the inside, really, but he was curious. It was evidently very rare for Thunderclan to take prisoners, and he didn’t know when he’d get another opportunity like this.

The inside was almost black, and even though he couldn’t see, he could feel with his whiskers how cramped it was. He blinked slowly, trying to let his eyes adjust, when he heard soft murmuring. As the space slowly came into focus, he could see Yellowfang and Brokentail laying in a shallow groove in the dirt. The healer was gently lapping at the exile’s head with her eyes closed, just like he had when he had been comforting Princess.

“Yellowfang!” He hissed in surprise. “What are you doing?”

The old molly startled at his voice, opening her eyes to see him standing in front of them. “Fireheart!” She gasped, clearly also shocked to see him. “What are you doing in here?”

“I was going to guard Brokentail.” He scowled at the kit-killer. Even though he had volunteered for it, that didn’t mean he liked the rogue any more than Dustleap seemed to. “What in Starclan’s name were you doing to him? Were you comforting him?”

The healer stared at him with wide eyes, as though she hadn’t processed what he said at all. Then her shoulders sagged and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I was.” 

“Why?” Fireheart asked in confusion. She hated the tyrant that had exiled her, didn’t she? Surely his comfort would be the last thing on his mind. He shook his head slowly in disbelief. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

Her gaze slowly turned to the mangled tabby beside her, her eyes drifting across his still form. She watched as his flank slowly and steadily rose and fell. He was sleeping, the ginger tom realized after a moment. “Because he’s my son.”

Fireheart blinked at her, not sure if he had heard her right. “Your son?” He echoed dimly as he stared at her. “But I thought healers weren’t allowed to have kits.”

“We aren’t.” Yellowfang sighed as she watched the tabby tom breathing, her eyes filled with a fondness he hadn’t seen from her before. “I was young, and foolish. I was in love with his father - Raggedstar. We were leader and healer, then, and I believed that there was nothing that could stop us.” Her copper gaze then clouded with grief. “I was wrong.”

Fireheart glanced behind him. No cat was going to sneak up on them, at least for the time being, so he slowly sat down. He owed it to Yellowfang, at least, to hear her out. “What happened?”

“I had three.” She mewed softly. “The first two were stillborn mollies. I named the first one Hopekit, after the hope I had that the rest would live. I named the second Wishkit, after the wish I had that they would forgive me in Starclan for breaking the code. The third…” Fireheart glanced at the exile before him. “Brokenkit, after the broken heart I had realizing I could never raise him as his mother.”

She looked back up to the Thunderclan warrior, her eyes watering. “I knew then that I had betrayed Starclan by taking a mate and kits, and that they were punishing me for my insolence. I thought that Hopekit and Wishkit’s deaths were the curse they had given me.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “But now I know I was wrong. My punishment was not that my daughters died. It’s that my son lived!”

Brokentail didn’t startle out of his sleep, still slumbering soundly despite the howling of the queen beside him. “Does he know? That you’re his mother, I mean?” 

“No.” She opened her eyes and gazed back down at her tabby son. “I buried Hopekit and Wishkit where they were born, and took Brokenkit back to Raggedstar. He was surprised at my change of mind, but agreed to have one of the queens nurse him instead.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “One jumped at the chance to nurse Raggedstar’s son. She raised Brokentail like he was her own. He likely still believes she was his birth mother.”

She sighed wistfully at the memories. “I recommitted myself to my duties as a healer. No one but my mentor ever suspected that I was Brokentail’s birth mother, and I was able to move on with my life. But Starclan never forgot, and they certainly never forgave.” The healer’s paws shuffled shamefully in the soil. “Ever since his birth, I have been unable to speak to them. Thankfully, I have always had an apprentice there to interpret their will for me, but it is a constant reminder that I have broken our sacred code.” 

He watched her carefully. “You said that you knew that my sister was in a hard position, and that you couldn’t leave her in distress. Is- is this why you agreed to help her?”

Yellowfang nodded slowly in response. “My mentor taught me those secrets I mentioned when I was a half-moon away from kitting. I think she knew, even if she didn’t say it out loud.” She sighed once more. “Sometimes I wonder if she looks down on me from Starclan even now, still disappointed in me for not following the healer code. I abandoned my old self completely - my love, my kits, my name - yet still, my shame follows me.”

He perked his ears in surprise as she spoke. “Your name? You had a different name?”

She snorted. “What, did you think I was born Yellowkit?” The grizzled healer’s whiskers twitched in amusement at his question. “My mother may have been a bit mad, but she wasn’t blind. I had a name to match the rest of my siblings’, once.” She looked away, her smile fading after a few heartbeats. “But that name was given to me by Starclan. In abandoning them, I abandoned that name. Raggedstar gave me my new name, just after Brokenkit was born. There aren’t many in the Clans who remember my old name, now.”

He recalled the joke Graystripe had made on the way to a Gathering with him a couple of moons ago. “I guess I didn’t really think about it.” He finally mewed. “What was it, if I may ask?” 

The melancholy molly shook her head slowly. “No. Like I said, that name is no longer my own. Starclan has made it clear I no longer deserve it.” The dark gray queen sighed as she looked down on her son, her gaze filled with heartache that spoke more words than she could ever say. “Just like he is no longer my son. It is only in these secret moments, when no one is watching, that I even dare to think about what life might have been.”

The elderly healer finally looked back up to him, her sorrowful copper gaze meeting his emerald eyes. “I understand if you cannot forgive me. I don’t know if I would either, in your position.” 

Her form seemed to shrink before him, until she looked nearly as small as a new apprentice. He looked between her and Brokentail - her son, the cat she loved despite all that he had done, cared for unconditionally. He understood now why she had defended him so desperately; what mother would willfully send her son to his death? And even knowing all the atrocious acts that the tabby had committed, knowing that he only still lived because of Yellowfang, Fireheart couldn’t find it in himself to blame her.

“I’ll forgive you.” He declared at last. “But only on one condition.”

Her eyes glittered in what little light remained. “Speak your mind.” She replied wearily, as though already resigned to him extorting her.

“You forgive me for breaking your leg.”

They stared at each other for several moments. He wondered if perhaps she was thinking it over, but then she began convulsing, letting out a growl in between each shaky breath. “Yellowfang?” He mewed in concern for the old molly, stepping closer in the small cave.

“Oh, Fireheart.” She wheezed in between growls, and after a heartbeat he realized she’d been laughing. “I forgave you for that many moons ago.”

“Then I forgive you.” He mewed simply, leaning over Brokentail to touch his nose to hers affectionately. “Cats aren’t just their parents. I am not the kittypet my mother and father were. Brokentail is not Raggedstar or you. I wouldn’t thank him for your actions, just like I won’t blame you for his.”

Her laughter finally ceased, and she slowly looked up to fix him with a steady copper gaze. “You have more wisdom than some elders I’ve known, Fireheart.” Yellowfang murmured softly, finally standing up and moving away from Brokentail’s body. “Thank you. It feels good to have told another cat the truth.” She hesitated and looked back at her son briefly. “It… it may be selfish of me to ask, but would you keep this between us? Even though I can no longer speak with Starclan, I still enjoy my role as the Clan’s healer. I don’t want to give it up for anything.”

Fireheart stared at her in confusion. “Why would you have to give it up if other cats knew? Brokentail being your son has nothing to do with your skill as a healer.”

She chuffed as though he’d said something funny, but he could see tears welling in her eyes. “If only other warriors thought as you did.” She sighed and glanced down at her paws. “By taking a mate and having kits, I broke Starclan’s code. I could be exiled, if Bluestar so chose. At best, I would likely be forced to retire to the elders’ den. I may be old, but I still have some life left in me, I should think.”

The ginger warrior pressed himself against her, giving her a reassuring purr. “You’ve kept my secret, I see no reason why I shouldn’t keep yours. Besides, Dewpaw still needs a mentor, and it would tear her up to have her second mentor taken from her in as many moons.” He wondered what the spotted molly would think if she learned of Yellowfang’s secret; she had always been ready to recite the healer code, but he had no doubt that she loved the grumpy old healer as well. 

“Dewpaw…” The grizzled gray molly hesitated at the mention of her apprentice’s name. “Do you think I should tell her the truth as well? I never told Wetnose, but… perhaps she deserves to know.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t see the issue, but then, he wasn’t a healer. “I think you should trust your own judgement on that. Dewpaw’s an understanding cat. If you think she needs to know, then I’m sure she would be willing to keep your secret.” He blinked as the thought of the healer’s apprentice suddenly reminded him of what had happened after the battle. “You should go see her, though, and help her with Mistspring. Besides, I’m supposed to be outside, guarding Brokentail.” Even as he said that, he glanced back at the sleeping form. It wasn’t like there was much to guard right now.

“I already did what I could to help Mistspring. Whatever happens, she’s in Starclan’s paws now.” Still, the healer moved towards the crevice that led outside, before glancing back at the two toms. “Brokentail won’t be moving for a while. I gave him some poppy seeds to help ease the pain, and they’ll likely keep him sleeping through the night. You should come with me, so I can see to those injuries of yours.”

Fireheart hesitated, glancing back. While he trusted Yellowfang’s assessment, he had still promised Bluestar that he would guard the prison. “Can I come see you after I’m done? I don’t want to disappoint Bluestar.”

The old queen rolled her eyes at his words. “I’ll bring the herbs to you. You’ll be sitting outside?” He nodded quickly in response. “Fine, then.” She pushed her way through the entrance, her bulky Shadowclan frame loosing some of the dirt as she went through.

The warrior gave one last glance at the almost peaceful form of Brokentail before following her. It would be strange, having the former tyrant in camp, but some part of him was glad the tom had survived the Monster. Especially now that he knew the truth about his parentage. Even if Yellowfang might deny it, it was clear she still had affection for the broken tom. 

Fireheart nodded in response to her unspoken question. “Goldenflower won’t bite, I promise. I’m sure she’ll be a great guide around camp.” He thought briefly to his own guide around camp, feeling a pang of regret at what their relationship was now. “I’ll come see you before the moon rises. And I’ll bring you your first fresh-kill, freshly caught just for you.”

Princess’ eyes lit up at the thought. “Oh, thank you, Fireheart! I can’t wait.” With that, she let the other queen lead her away, the two murmuring softly to each other as they began walking around camp.

He thought briefly about finishing the patrol they had been on, but Dustleap and Brackenpaw rushed through the bramble tunnel before he could make his way over. Off for training, he supposed, or not wanting to be in the same area as kittypets any longer. He didn’t bother to think about it too hard, instead turning his attention to where Frostfur was sitting and cleaning her soft white fur.

He padded over, questions filling his mind. “Frostfur.” He mewed to get her attention. “I was wondering - can I ask you something?” He stumbled over his words, trying to figure out the proper phrasing. He knew how temperamental the queen could be, and he didn’t want to upset her - not after what she’d just done for him.

She looked up, her dark blue eyes flashing as she studied him. “I thought you might.” She replied cryptically, abandoning her washing to stand and walk towards the entrance of camp. “Come help me collect some moss. With your sister joining, we’ll need some soft, fresh stuff for her kitting.”

He didn’t pause to debate, instead readily following her out of camp. Part of him wondered if she was leading him off to kill him, but he quickly cast the thought out of his mind. Just because she could be a bit angry didn’t mean she was as dark and murderous as Tigerclaw. 

She led him up the opposite side of the ravine, away from the training hollow. He wondered briefly if she was avoiding running into Dustleap and Brackenpaw, but he didn’t get a chance to ask as she stopped in a secluded grove of birch trees. “Ask your questions, then.” She mewed curtly as she began stripping away clawfuls of moss.

Silence stretched out between them as Fireheart struggled to figure out how to phrase his first question. “I, I just - Why?” He blurted out after a few moments. “I- I mean no offense, Frostfur, but you’re hardly known for being accepting of outsiders or strangers. Why would you - why did you-”

She held up her tail to silence him, and he did so readily. “Firstly, I said nothing that wasn’t true. What your sister did was brave, perhaps braver than Dustleap has ever been. The Clan does need more warriors. And I know that if you vouch for her, then she must be worth the trouble.” She tilted her head slightly to catch him in her gaze. “Secondly, I haven’t forgotten how you were the one to save my kits.”

He blinked in surprise. “It wasn’t me alone, you know.” He said at last, unsure what else to say. He certainly hadn’t been expecting praise from Frostfur when he approached her.

“No. But I’ve heard the stories from the others that were there - how you brought the Shadowclan elders to help concoct a plan to save them, how you were the one to defeat Brokentail himself. Even though I had done nothing but snarl at you, you still risked your life to save my kits from that…” She trailed off, her lips twitching with barely-restrained obscenities. “It was the least I could do to repay you.”

Fireheart nodded slowly. He supposed that made sense - though it was still thoroughly unexpected. “Well, I- I just want to say, I really appreciate it. My sister… she means a lot to me.” He told her quietly, which still felt loud in the silence of the clearing.

Frostfur continued hacking away at the moss, either ignoring him or not having heard him. Just as he was about to speak up again, she abandoned her task entirely and turned to him. “Do you know how I came to Thunderclan?” She asked him, staring at him with an intense azure gaze.

He stared at her in confusion. “I- I mean, I know you’re Smallear’s daughter. He told me as much.” He answered, unsure where she was going.

To his surprise, she shook her head. “His adopted daughter. He’s not my real father.” Her gaze was unreadable as she returned to her task. “I was born on the border of Thunderclan to a kittypet queen. One not unlike your sister, I think.”

He bristled in surprise at the revelation, unsure what to say. Never had he imagined Frostfur was descended from kittypets! “Smallear found my mother and I in the snow. From what I’ve heard, after I was born, something went wrong. There was a lot of blood. Smallear, fearing for the life of my mother and I, went back to camp to get help, and he brought me with him to keep me warm.” She sighed and shook her head softly as she recalled the story. “When he brought back the healer to help her, Twolegs were taking her away. Goosefeather - the healer back then - said that she lost so much blood, he didn’t think she survived.”

Fireheart winced as he imagined it. Could that have happened to his own sister, if he hadn’t been there to bring her to Thunderclan? No, he thought to himself, it was better not to think about such things. “You don’t know for sure?”

“No cat ever saw her again. Smallear patrolled the Twolegplace border for moons trying to find her, or even some cat that knew her. I remember him coming back disappointed on multiple occasions, when I was still a little kit.” Frostfur glanced down at the roots of the tree for a moment. “I think he always felt responsible for me, and that’s why he calls me his daughter. But the truth is, if it weren’t for that twist of fate, I wouldn’t be a Clan cat at all.”

He contemplated that for a moment. Sometimes, he had wondered about what would have happened if he hadn’t entered the forest that night, when Bluestar and Lionheart were patrolling. He wondered what would have happened if he had joined earlier - if somehow, he could have saved Redtail’s life. It was interesting to think about how these small twists of fate had changed everything for the two of them, and for a moment, he felt a small shred of kinship with the white queen. “I’m sorry about your mother.” He offered at last.

Frostfur shrugged. “I didn’t know her. I appreciate what she did for me, and I’d like to think I’ll meet her one day in Starclan - but that’s foolish thinking.” She turned back to the moss and began slicing at it again. “No cat has ever held my past over my head. To be honest, I think most of them have forgotten because of how protective Smallear was over me. But I know the truth, even if they don’t.”

“Cats like Dustleap love to claim that forestborn cats are so superior to kittypets. They like to pretend that blood is the reason for kittypets having fluffy fur and soft pawpads, and that Clan cats are simply of a different breed compared to them.” She paused in her collecting for a moment, her pale claws flexing in the snow as though imagining the arrogant tabby standing in front of her. “But you and I both know that isn’t true. My blood is fully kittypet, yet I challenge any cat in the Clan to say that I don’t belong. My kits are half-kittypet, but no cat can say they’re not forestborn.”

Fireheart nodded in understanding. Now he realized the point that Frostfur had been getting at - and, in part, why she had been so willing to stand up for his sister. “I’d like to think Princess’ kits will be just as strong as you are, one day.” He ventured after a few heartbeats of silence.

The molly snorted dismissively at his words. “There’s no need to flatter me.” She grumbled as she began bundling up the moss she had collected into two piles. “Understand if you tell any of this, to any cat, I will shred your pelt faster than Graystripe ever could.” Her whiskers twitched in amusement as he flinched at the memory. “But the Clan needs more warriors, and you and Tinyfrost and I have all proven that kittypet blood is more than capable of serving the Clan. Besides, any chance I get to irritate Tigerclaw and his fleabrained children is a chance I’ll gladly take.”

Fireheart’s ears perked in surprise at the vitriol in her voice. “You don’t like Tigerclaw?” He asked curiously. He recalled Smallear saying she had been very independent compared to Whitestorm and Tigerclaw, but he hadn’t said much beyond that.

Frostfur gave him a bitter glare out of the corner of her eye. “Bluestar should never have chosen him to be deputy.” She growled, before picking up her moss bundle, clearly done speaking. He didn’t dare push it further, not wanting to end his conversation with the queen on a sour note. Instead, he gently scooped up the other bundle she had made and followed her back to camp.

It seemed in the time that they had been gone, several patrols had already come back to camp. News was spreading fast of the new cat in camp, and he could see several angry faces glaring at him from the shadows, as well as a few curious ones. Only one dared to approach him and Frostfur together, however.

“Fireheart! Tinyfrost told me that your sister just joined the nursery. Is it really true?” Peppermask trotted alongside him as he crossed the clearing to camp, oblivious to the glares coming his direction. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a sister?”

He paused with a guilty glance to Frostfur, who just shrugged and carried on to the nursery. Setting his bundle down at his paws, he looked back into the gray tabby’s green eyes, which were swirling with a dozen emotions he couldn’t place. “Yes, it’s true. I didn’t tell you - or anyone - about her because I didn’t need more comments about being a Twolegplace kittypet.” He snapped curtly, trying to fend off any more inquiries before they could start.

His friend’s ears swiveled back at his words. “You know I would never do that.” She replied, her tone pained at the very implication.

Fireheart dipped his head apologetically. She was right, of course she was - Peppermask had never brought up his kittypet upbringing unprompted before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just - after your brother… you know?” He glanced at the prison, where Graystripe was guarding with a scowl on his face. Even though he had once believed that the tom had seen him for who he was and not what he had been, it was clear that time and time again cats would bring up his origins to throw at his face out of pure pettiness.

Peppermask hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. It wasn’t so long ago that would have been unthinkable to him, too…” She sighed and gestured at the moss. “Are you bringing that for your sister? Why don’t I fetch her some prey and come with you? We found a whole flock of pigeons out on patrol today, so there’s plenty to go around!”

He glanced at the nursery, which Frostfur had already disappeared into. “To tell you the truth, I was hoping to catch her first taste of freshkill myself. I just…” Fireheart trailed off, not sure how to explain his feelings to the molly beside him. It seemed a bit silly to say out loud.

She blinked comfortingly at him. “It’s okay, I understand! You have to show her what a big, strong warrior you are, don’t you?” She grinned and nudged him with her shoulder as his fur grew hot from embarrassment. “We can go hunting together later, then. Why don’t I help you take that moss to her in the meantime?”

It was then he realized that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Why she was so desperate to meet his sister, he wasn’t sure, but he knew better than to argue with Peppermask - when she was determined to get her way, she could be just as badgerbrained as Graystripe or Cinderspark. “Sure. It’d be good for her to meet another friendly face.” He mewed at last, flicking his tail for her to follow him to the nursery.

He squeezed his way inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light of the nursery. He remembered the first time he had entered it properly, to defend Speckleflight and Snowkit from a fox; now that nest was empty, even though Speckleflight’s scent still clung to it. Goldenflower and Frostfur were curled up in another nest, sharing tongues; a third nest was empty, any scent on it long since gone. The fourth giant nest held Princess, sprawled out in the moss and looking more content than he’d ever seen her before.

“Princess?” He mewed softly as Peppermask deposited the moss bundle in the empty nest, next to Frostfur’s bundle. “I’ve brought a friend that would like to meet you. This is Peppermask, Dewpaw’s sister.” He motioned for the gray tabby to come stand beside him with a flick of his tail. “And Peppermask, this is Princess, my sister.”

His friend’s green eyes sparkled as they looked down at his sister. “It’s very nice to meet you, Princess. I hope Thunderclan is everything you hoped it would be.”

“Oh, yes!” Princess purred, struggling to sit up and face them. Fireheart grimaced slightly at the sight. He couldn’t imagine having to deal with such a large belly - how did the other queens do it? “It’s so warm and cozy in here, and this moss is as soft as the nursery bedding from when I was a kit! Do you remember, Fireheart?” She mewed, kneading in and out of the moss with one free paw.

He purred softly, remembering the soft and fuzzy blanket that had enveloped them. “I do.” He answered, reaching out to feel it with one paw. She was right - this was some of the most plush moss that he had seen.

“I should bring you some pigeon down later, too!” Peppermask chirped beside him as she examined the nest. “It’s so soft and light, it’ll be like laying on a cloud.”

Fireheart eyed her suspiciously. The other young warrior spent a lot of time in the nursery, so she likely knew what was best for kits, but he didn’t want her bothering his sister when she needed her rest. Before he could respond, he heard Princess giggle. “That’s so kind of you! I’d like that very much.” She purred, and he let himself relax. Perhaps he was just being overprotective after all the hostility of Dustleap. “But you don’t need to trouble yourself, either. I don’t want to be a burden on the Clan.”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Peppermask replied with a small bow. “We found a flock of pigeons out on patrol earlier, and Mousefur and I managed to catch five by ourselves! Cherrypaw - that’s Mousefur’s apprentice - caught a sixth one, and it was only her second time out hunting. The Clan won’t go hungry tonight, that’s for sure!”

Fireheart wrinkled his nose at the gray molly’s boasting. While it was indeed impressive, there was hardly any reason to bother his sister with such things. “Come on, Peppermask. We should get going if we want to be back before the night chill sets in.” He urged, gently nudging her with his shoulder.

Peppermask seemed reluctant to go, but dipped her head in understanding all the same. “Alright. See you later, Princess! I promise I won’t forget those down feathers!” She crowed, even as he began pushing her towards the entrance. He was certain that Peppermask had somehow gotten heavier between leaffall and leafbare, taking all of his effort just to slide her towards the entrance.

He waved his tail in farewell to his sister as he exited. “There, now you’ve met my sister.” Fireheart mewed snidely, trying to ignore the looks from all over camp. The Clan would calm down in a few days, he was sure, but for now he was once again labeled an outsider to the Clan, with all the hostility that came with that.

“Alright, alright. Why are you so uptight about your sister?” Peppermask asked with a huff. “I was just making conversation with her.”

He blinked, before taking a deep breath and sighing. “I- I know that. I just want what’s best for her, y’know? And she’s had a long day. She needs her rest.” Was that it? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was scared that, like Graystripe, Peppermask would lash out at her at any moment. Maybe she was right - he was being too uptight. “I’m sorry. I should be glad you seem to like her. I’m sure you two will have plenty of time to talk to each other once she’s rested.”

Peppermask didn’t respond for a few heartbeats, until he glanced her way. “She seems nice. But you’re right - for a newcomer, the journey to camp isn’t an easy one. Especially not carrying kits and in leafbare! I’m sure we’ll have lots of time to talk later.” She repeated softly, as though trying to convince herself. Then she perked up and turned her gaze to him. “Anyways, we should get going. The prey isn’t going to want to stay out long after the sun sets.” 

He heard something behind him, and turned to see Longtail racing towards him. “Fireheart! Why did you-” The tabby’s eyes widened as he saw what remained of the rogue leader. “What happened?”

“He got in the way of a Monster.” Fireheart mewed softly, not daring to meet the other warrior’s eyes. “I- I saw him trying to flee without a fight, so I chased after him, and he-” He looked down at his paws, trying to make sense of it. “He didn’t even look. He just ran straight onto the Thunderpath.”

The two stood over the body for a long moment. “What- What about the other rogues? I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed to finish the fight, but I didn’t want him to-”

“Dustleap and Mousefur were finishing with Spiderfoot when I left.” Longtail replied slowly. “Are you- you’re not seriously mourning this fleabag, are you? He got what was coming to him.”

“I-” The ginger tom didn’t know what to say. Was he mourning Brokentail? No, he was glad that the kit-killer was dead, but he hadn’t wanted this. “Do you think I’ll be in trouble?” He finally asked, looking back up to Longtail warily.

The other tom looked surprised by the question, but he didn’t immediately answer with a retort. “What do you mean, you’ll be in trouble?” He asked the younger warrior, his ear flicking in annoyance.

“I killed him. A warrior never kills.” The ginger warrior mumbled, looking down at his paws kneading the ground as he spoke. What would Bluestar say when she found out?

Longtail was silent for a long time. When he looked up at the other warrior, he was surprised to see that his eyes were filled with neither disgust nor contempt, but an emotion he didn’t recognize on the older tom. “Brokentail was outside the code. He needed to die.” The tabby growled after a few heartbeats, giving a derogatory huff to the mangled body. “Besides, you didn’t kill him. The Monster did. Even kits know not to cross the Thunderpath without looking.”

Fireheart nodded slowly. That was true- he was the coward that had chosen to flee rather than stand and fight. If he had waited moments longer, maybe he wouldn’t be dead. Still, as he stood there, something deep inside him said it would be wrong to just leave the body here. He searched the ground for a bare spot in the grass, then started digging.

“What are you doing?” Longtail asked scornfully as he looked on. “You’re not actually going to give him proper rites, are you? He broke the code! He doesn’t deserve any of that.”

“I know that.” The ginger warrior replied as his paws slowly scooped out dirt. “But we can’t just leave crowfood lying here. Who knows what kind of predators it could attract to our territory?”

The two sat in silence for a moment as Fireheart continued digging. “Well, as long as you’re offering to do it.” The tabby tom sniffed disdainfully, though he thought he could detect the faintest hint of approval in his tone. 

“Can you fetch Cinderpaw to help me? This’ll get done faster with two sets of paws.” He mewed, exhaustion beginning to seep into his bones. “She- She should be with Yellowfang, where we found the crowfood.” His fur prickled as he remembered what had happened with Mistspring mere moments ago. Had she survived? Was Cinderpaw mourning her mentor right now? He didn’t know.

Longtail didn’t say anything, instead darting off back towards the abandoned Twoleg nest. That didn’t bother him; instead, he kept working, falling into a slow rhythm as he dug deeper and deeper, making sure to keep the hole wide enough to fit a cat.

He eyed Brokentail’s body as he worked. Just as he looked back to see if the hole was deep enough, the body’s ear twitched. He stopped, eyes wide. There was no way Brokentail had survived that hit. Still, as he paused, there was no more movement, so he focused on digging. He was just tired and seeing things. The battle and chase hadn’t been easy on him, and his mind was playing tricks on him-

“Hhhh!” Fireheart leaped into the air at the loud gasp, landing a tail-length away from the hole he had been digging. He watched, shocked and horrified, as Brokentail slowly lifted his head, then a paw. 

He had survived?

The Shadowclan exile caught sight of him, crouched in the grass and staring with wide green eyes. “You!” The rogue wheezed. “What have you done to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Fireheart replied, his tongue feeling fuzzy in his mouth as he tried to speak. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some sort of dream from Starclan. He watched as the exile struggled to get on his front paws. “You didn’t look where you were going and got hit by a Monster!”

“I can’t-” The tom yowled as he tried to get on his feet. “My legs! Why can’t I feel my legs?”

Fireheart glanced over the rogue’s legs. As the exiled leader struggled, his back legs didn’t move: they were the same broken, mangled mess they had been. “You broke them.” He finally mewed. “In multiple places, no less. Of course you can’t move them. I don’t know why you’re trying.”

Brokentail stared at him with a level of hatred he hadn’t thought possible for a cat. “This is your idea of revenge, isn’t it?” The dark tabby snarled at him. “You’ve taken my Clan, my strength… go on, then! Finish the job!”

They stared at each other for several heartbeats. For a moment, the Thunderclanner wanted to fulfill his request. Cats of all stripes would be better off without this cat wasting space. If he died here, and now, he would never be able to harm another kit again.

Yet as he stared at the shattered cat before him, he realized that even if he could bring himself to willfully take another cat’s life, there was no need to do so. How could Brokentail do anything when he couldn’t walk? He couldn’t hunt to steal their prey, nor could he fight to kill another cat. Even a young kit could fight back against him in this state.

“Quit dithering, kittypet!” The exile snarled, but Fireheart could see the desperation in the other tom’s eyes. He knew what little life he had left would be misery if he didn’t die now. Without a Clan to support him, without a healer to help him, he would likely die here on the side of the Thunderpath, and they both knew it.

“What’s going on?” He turned at the sound of another voice to see Yellowfang approaching with Cinderpaw, Dustleap, and Mousefur. “Longtail said that you were burying one of the rogues.” Even as she said it, her copper eyes landed on the heap of Brokentail, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of the leader that had exiled her from Shadowclan.

“I- I was…” He shook his fur out. He still wasn’t sure if this was real or not, but the sight of Yellowfang grounded him some. “But Brokentail- he’s still alive.”

“You!” Brokentail spat as he caught sight of the grizzled healer. “You traitor! How dare you stand with these foxhearts?”

She flinched as though Brokentail had raked her with real claws, but she still approached him nonetheless. “Your legs…” She murmured softly as she stared down at him.

“They’re as broken as the rest of him.” Dustleap snorted derisively from behind her. “There’s nothing more to be done here. Leave him to fend for himself; I’m sure Starclan will see to it that he’s finished off.”

“No!” Fireheart was shocked by the anguished cry from Yellowfang at Dustleap’s suggestion. “Starclan has allowed him to live for a reason. We must honor their wishes!”

The brown tabby looked shocked at the healer’s outburst. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re seriously suggesting Starclan rescued this flea-bitten crowfood? After everything he’s done?” Dustleap glanced over to the grave that Fireheart had started. “The kittypet had the right idea. Let’s dump him in there. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter.”

Yellowfang lashed her tail in anger. “No! We cannot disobey Starclan’s will! It was thanks to them that Brokentail still lives; they would not be pleased if we went against their will now!”

Fireheart glanced at Mousefur and Cinderpaw uncertainly. The former Shadowclanner had always bristled whenever Brokentail had been brought up in her presence, and for good reason: he had pinned his crimes on her and exiled her from the Clan she had served faithfully for seasons. Why was she suddenly defending him now?

“I don’t need your defending, traitor!” Brokentail spat at the old molly angrily. “That warrior is right. Finish the job that this kittypet is too mousehearted to do.”

“He’s a warrior of Thunderclan!” Cinderpaw interjected angrily as Fireheart looked at her in surprise. The apprentice’s fluffy gray tail lashed at the exile before her. “And you should be thankful you managed to survive that Monster’s attack! Not every cat is so blessed by Starclan.” Sorrow filled her blue eyes, and he knew instantly that she was thinking of Quickflash, laying in the center of camp.

“Blessed by Starclan? He’s broken every rule of their sacred code!” Dustleap spat at Cinderpaw. “Starclan made a mistake. We should help them correct it!”

Mousefur moved in front of Cinderpaw, her ears flat as she glared at the Thunderclan tabby. “Cinderpaw’s right. Brokentail was still leader of Shadowclan under Starclan, and he clearly still has their favor. This isn’t a matter that simple warriors like you and I can decide.” She glanced at Yellowfang, a shadow of doubt crossing over her face. It was clear that she didn’t quite believe the healer’s words, either. “We must take him back to Bluestar, so that she can decide his fate.”

Dustleap’s mouth was agape, but he somehow didn’t seem able to find the words to argue. 

“It’s decided, then.” Fireheart didn’t know what to think, but he trusted Bluestar would make the right choice: Mousefur’s idea seemed the most reasonable at the moment. “We bring Brokentail to Bluestar.”

“Well, I’m not hauling Brokenlegs here all the way back to camp!” Dustleap growled as he finally found his voice again, striped tail lashing furiously. “Not unless you want him to end up as Broken-neck, anyways.”

“I will carry him back.” Yellowfang interjected gruffily. “Starclan’s will is my duty. He must be my burden to carry.”

He made his way past the apprentice den to the foxhole, where a gray form was beginning to push their way through, carrying a dirty mossball. “Yellowfang.” Fireheart mewed in greeting, dipping his head respectfully before taking a seat in a grassy spot near the prison entrance.

The old healer grunted acknowledgement as she squirmed through the entrance, several joints popping as she did so. She paused to shake the dirt out of her pelt, before dropping the moss-ball by her paws. “Fireheart. Tigerclaw assigned you to guard duty again?”

“The fifth time this quarter-moon.” The ginger warrior replied glumly. “I guess I shouldn’t complain too much - it’s easy enough to do. But…”

“I know, I know. You warriors prefer showing off your skills.” The grizzled molly rolled her eyes dourly. “Well, you can help supervise him while he stretches his legs. Better you than a cat like Tigerclaw, I suppose. You know they’d just claw each other’s ears off.”

Fireheart stared at her. “What do you mean, stretches his legs? In that tiny foxhole? It’s barely big enough for a cat his size to turn around!”

Yellowfang chuffed at him. “No, mousebrain. Outside the hole, out around camp. It might be cold, but the fresh air and sunlight will do him good.”

Fireheart glanced behind him at the hole, the fur on his scruff rising in apprehension. He was supposed to guard Brokentail, not take him out for a leisurely stroll. What would Bluestar think? “He’s supposed to be imprisoned.” He pointed out carefully, not wanting to get an ear-lashing from the cantankerous former Shadowclanner.

“And he’ll still be stuck in camp, won’t he? I’m not asking you to take him to go meet his old cronies.” He winced slightly at the old healer’s harsh growl. “You’ll just need to watch him. It’s not like he can go far right now.”

That was true, he thought guiltily to himself. But something about it still felt wrong. “I have to get approval from Bluestar first. If something happens…”

“Oh, for Starclan’s sake!” He folded his ears back at the molly’s outburst. Just as he opened his mouth to protest further, she shook her head and sighed. “No, Fireheart, I’m sorry. You’re only doing your duty to Thunderclan, just as I’m only doing my duty to my patients. Go on, then. I can keep watch for you while you go ask her.”

He blinked in surprise at her sudden change in mood, but nodded quickly in acceptance all the same. “Thank you.” He mewed, quickly getting up and hurrying across camp before she could change her mind instead. He slowed as he reached the lichen curtain that fell across Bluestar’s den. He had a good reason this time for visiting her, but the thought of entering her den still made him nervous. What if she got mad at him for interrupting her peace?

“Who’s there?” He jumped slightly as he heard the leader call out from within her den. “I can see your shadow, you know.”

“I- er- it’s me, Bluestar. Fireheart, I mean.” He mentally admonished himself for sounding like such a fool in front of her. “May I come in?”

“Ah.” Her tone lightened immediately as he identified himself. “Yes, of course, Fireheart. Come in, come in.”

He took a deep breath and pushed his way through the curtain. Bluestar was sitting in her nest, cleaning her whiskers with one strong yet delicate paw. “What brings you to my den? Surely you’re not just looking for my company.” He blinked as she spoke. Was that a joke from the regal queen? He wasn’t sure.

“Well, uhm, Yellowfang wants to let Brokentail stretch his legs, or something like that. For his health. I- I know you said that he’s our prisoner, and I’m supposed to be guarding him, so I, uh, wanted to ask your permission first?” He sounded like a young apprentice, his voice almost a squeak as he finished speaking. There was no reason to be afraid of her - she wouldn’t exile him for asking a simple question, would she?

The silver molly stopped cleaning herself and his heart skipped a beat as she focused her icy blue eyes on him. “Yellowfang said that, did she?” She considered the ginger warrior in front of her for several heartbeats. “And what do you think?”

He hesitated, unsure of how she wanted him to answer. “Well- I mean, only his front paws work, so I don’t really think he can run away. And it’s not like he’s going to be able to tell enemy warriors about our camp from his foxhole. Not unless we got more prisoners, which I don’t see happening, I mean unless some other leader goes rogue and-”

“Fireheart.” He startled a bit as she spoke, looking up from where he’d been staring at his paws. “You can relax, you know. I’m your leader; I’m here to help you, and the Clan.” He realized she was staring at him in concern now. “Is something besides Brokentail bothering you?”

He thought instantly about Tigerclaw and his treachery. He could tell her the truth, all of it, right now. They were alone, and even Tigerclaw was out on patrol. No one else would overhear, or even know.

But he knew better than that. He had no proof for his accusations; not yet, anyways. “I- Well, it is about Brokentail. At least a bit.” He fibbed, recalling the fear he’d felt when he thought he had killed the rogue leader. “I’m the reason Brokentail went under that Monster’s paws. I was chasing him, and he wasn’t looking where he was going, and- he couldn’t stop in time.” He dug his claws into the dirt, remembering the moment with such crystal clarity. “I thought I killed him. The warrior code, it says not to kill other cats, but-”

He stopped himself, taking a deep breath in and out. Though he had been fibbing, at least at first, part of him was terrified of what Bluestar might say at his admission. But when he looked back up at her, her gaze was filled with that familiar motherly warmth and compassion.

“What happened to Brokentail is not your fault. It is his. If he had followed the code, we would not have needed to chase him out. He would not have been sheltered in that old Twoleg nest, with the other rogues. And he is the coward that chose to run, rather than stand and fight you. You are a good warrior, and you have beaten him before, but your victory the second time was hardly a sure thing.”

He relaxed at her soft mew, soothing a wound in his mind he hadn’t known was there. “As for the code, Brokentail was not bound to it or its laws the moment he chose to abandon it. Killing him would have fallen outside of the code.” She stepped out of her nest, coming to stand in front of Fireheart and gently nosing his forehead in comfort. “If you had killed him for good that day, I do not think a soul in Thunderclan - or even Starclan - would have blamed you.” She murmured softly into his ear.

He stared at the ground in front of him for a moment, nodding slowly. That had been about what Longtail had said to him, in the heat of the moment. But he knew that the skinny tabby had had his own reasons for wanting Brokentail dead, and it was hard to trust his assessment. “I understand. Thank you, Bluestar.” He replied at last.

“Of course. I understand your worry, Fireheart, but I have seen your heart. No matter what happens, I have faith you will try to do the right thing. So long as that is the case, you have no reason to fear.” She stepped back, taking in his demeanor. “Now then. Is that all?”

He blinked, trying to remember why he’d come in the first place. “Er- you never said what to do with Brokentail.”

“Ah, yes.” The silver-furred leader returned to her nest. “He may walk around camp at Yellowfang and his guard’s discretion. I agree with your assessment: even if he tried to escape, I doubt he’d get up the side of the ravine, so long as his back legs are broken.” She lapped at one paw for a moment, before pausing. “You can tell Tigerclaw and the other warriors that, as well.”

He nodded quickly at her words. “Of course. Thank you, Bluestar.” 

Just as he turned to leave, he heard her cough. “Ah - but he is not to go within one fox-length of the nursery. You can tell them that, as well.”

He glanced back at her, his head tilted in confusion. “May I ask why, Bluestar?”

She paused for a second before sighing. “It’s as much for his safety as for the kits’. You’ll surely remember that it was under his orders that Goldenflower was attacked and her kits stolen.” She shivered slightly at the memory. “I have no doubt that Frostfur remembers, as well. I would rather not have any… unfortunate incidents resulting from him straying too close.”

He also shivered at the thought. He remembered how Frostfur had verbally attacked Ravenspirit, back when he had only been trying to bring water to her kits. Ravenspirit had been her Clanmate, and she had watched over him since he was a kit with the other queens. How she might react to a cat that had already threatened her kits and her mate… “Of course, Bluestar. I’ll let Yellowfang know, as well.”

“Good.” She flicked her tail to dismiss him, and he quickly pushed the lichen out of his way and hurried across camp, to where Yellowfang was waiting.

“Well?” The healer asked him with her typical scowl. “What did Bluestar say?”

“She said that he can leave the foxhole if his guard allows it, but that he’s not allowed within a fox-length of the nursery.” Fireheart summarized quickly as he took up his spot in the dry grass next to the prison, puffing his fur up against the cold.

Yellowfang snorted dismissively at his words. “Why? Does she think he’s going to steal some kits away under our noses?” She grumbled, rolling her eyes at the thought.

“No, but the queens might think that.” He replied steadily, glancing towards the nursery. Frostfur and Goldenflower had taken their kits out of camp to frolic in the snow; they were four moons old, now, and getting too big for the nursery to contain them. “You treated Goldenflower’s wounds. Surely you remember what Brokentail’s rogues did to her.”

“Ah.” The gray molly dipped her broad head in understanding. “Yes, I remember. And queens can get very protective of their kits- especially their first litter.” She sighed and glanced over her shoulder to the foxhole. “Very well. Even avoiding the nursery, there’s still plenty of camp for him to walk around in. I’ll go fetch him, then.”

She disappeared into the dark of the prison, momentarily leaving Fireheart alone with his thoughts. He glanced over camp, but most warriors were out hunting or patrolling the borders; Dustleap was keeping a watchful eye over camp from near the nursery, while the elders were bickering in the sunlight. He winced a bit as he noticed Snowkit among them, batting a mossball back and forth with his mother and One-eye.

He turned as he heard Yellowfang shoving her way through the entrance, Brokentail’s scruff in her jaws. It was a tight squeeze, especially with two broad-shouldered cats, but she somehow managed to push her way through. “Now then. Practice those exercises I showed you; your back won’t get better unless you make it.” She deposited him gently in the dirt, before stooping to pick up the dirty mossball she had dropped.

“What, you aren’t going to stay?” Fireheart asked, alarmed. He had been expecting to watch her chaperone the exile around camp, not swiftly disappear as soon as she had dragged him out.

She rolled her copper eyes at him. “I need to go take this dirty moss to the dirtplace, then hunt for him. I’m sure you can manage to watch him.”

“Well- but- I-” He stammered out, watching helplessly as she proceeded to ignore him and cross camp towards the bramble tunnel. He knew logically that the former Shadowclan leader couldn’t hurt him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be alone with him either.

“What’s the matter, kittypet? Scared you can’t beat me in a fair fight?” Brokentail taunted as he stretched his claws out to the sky. Fireheart glanced down at the tabby tom, whose legs were wrapped in a combination of sticks, cobwebs, and bindweed. Even though they now looked normal, they still dragged uselessly in the dirt behind him - it would be months before he would potentially be able to walk with them again, if all of Yellowfang’s knowledge worked.

“I’m not a kittypet.” The Thunderclan warrior snapped wearily. He knew better than to give the rogue any reason to bicker with him, but he wasn’t going to put up with being called a kittypet until sunset either. “I’m far more of a warrior than you ever were.”

“Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?” The prisoner sneered at him, his words like fangs looking for a weak spot.

“My mother was, yes.” Fireheart mewed steadily, but he hesitated as he thought of his father. He recalled the story Tallstar had told him, about Jake, and how they shared such similar pelts. Could that curious kittypet have been his father? He didn’t know. “I don’t know who my father is. You could be my father, for all I know.” He snorted at the thought of being related to the fleabag next to him, but he supposed anything was possible. “Though I’m sure the mere thought of you fathering a Thunderclanner is an insult to you.”

Brokentail chuckled beside him, a harsh and wheezing growl not unlike Yellowfang’s. “You’re closer to the truth than you realize.” He finally replied, rolling his head and flexing his broad shoulders.

“Well, I-” The ginger tom stopped and stared at the tabby, baffled. “What? I don’t understand. Are you saying you had a kit with a Thunderclanner?”

“Once.” Brokentail seemed to smirk as he watched Fireheart staring at him, as though he were basking in the attention he had finally gotten from his guard. “Many seasons ago, now. Don’t look so surprised; I was once quite the charming tomcat, in my youth.”

He snorted in disbelief at that. All Brokentail cared about was himself: what cat couldn’t see that? “And you loved her?” He asked the rogue incredulously.

The rogue rolled his dark eyes at that. “Hardly. She was weak, whiny, and wormbrained. A typical Thunderclanner, really. But she very much adored me, for some reason I’m sure made sense in her tiny little head.” He shook his head dismissively at the thought.

The fur on Fireheart’s scruff rose briefly before he forced it back down. The callous attitude was hardly unexpected from the dark tabby, and it wasn’t as if he ever knew the molly in question. Unless he did? He gazed out across camp, wondering briefly if he had ever met Brokentail’s mate.

“We met at a Gathering, the moon after I became a warrior. I think she was quite impressed with the tales of my strength - that’s why Raggedstar made me a warrior early, you know.” Brokentail continued, either not noticing that he had briefly lost his guard’s attention or not caring. “It wasn’t long before she was begging to meet me on the side of the Thunderpath. She even showed me some of Thunderclan territory, the little fool.”

Fireheart nodded along listlessly as he glanced over the camp, before a terrible realization jolted through him. “That’s how you knew where our camp was.” He mewed accusingly, glaring at the prisoner as his claws dug into the dirt.

“Hmm.” Brokentail gave him an appraising look, sending shivers up his spine that he did his best to hide. “So even a kittypet is smarter than Thunderclanners? I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised.” The tom scoffed, flicking his ear dismissively as he looked away. “She didn’t show me, but she was such a predictable creature. Took the same path back to camp every time. You can hardly blame me for following her on a few occasions, can’t you? Surely you would do the same in my place.”

Fireheart’s lip curled in disgust. “I wouldn’t, actually. I don’t need to know where the other Clans’ camps are, because I’m not a murderous tyrant bent on driving them all out.”

The codebreaker shrugged, unbothered by the hostility in his voice. “Your loss, then. A good warrior never turns away from a potential advantage.” He examined his paws as though checking for dirt in between his claws. “She died on the Thunderpath, several leafbares ago. Sometimes I wonder if she was looking for me.”

The warrior blinked in shock at the indifference in Brokentail’s voice. “Did you kill her?” He asked, forcing his fur to lay flat. It would hardly be the first murder that the dark tabby had committed, after all.

The exile gave him a long, cold stare out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t need to. She wasn’t a threat to me.” He replied at last, before lapping at one dirty paw.

“And those kits you murdered were threats?” Fireheart challenged.

Brokentail scoffed again. “Those kits were weak. I was merely training them and they died. They never would have survived a battle, even if they survived leafbare.” The cold exile’s features softened suddenly. “That Thunderclan molly bore a single kit before she died. A tom, she said. She said he looked just like me, and that she’d bring him to meet me when he was old enough.” He shook his broad head wistfully. “He probably died without her. Thunderclan kits do tend to be so weak.”

His eyes widened in shock. Brokentail had had a son- a Thunderclan son? His mind suddenly was racing with possibilities. Many cats had died in the leafbare before he had joined the Clan, warriors especially. It was equally likely that Brokentail was right - his son could have died without his mother to care for him, especially if he hadn’t been old enough to leave camp at her death.

He gazed across camp, where Dustleap sat watching vigilantly. He looked so much like his father, Tigerclaw, with his narrowed eyes and dark tabby stripes. They had the same broad shoulders and wide head, just like Brokentail.

 A thought suddenly sprang to his mind. Tigerclaw had no siblings, and his parents had died long before Fireheart had joined. He knew all too well that the two shared the same black heart and ignorance of the code. They even had the same long fur and amber eyes.