#peppermask

The dark gray warrior whirled around, her ears pinned back as she glared at the ginger tom sitting across the clearing. “This is fleabrained!” She hissed, her tail lashing as she advanced on him.

He blinked in shock at her words, surprised to hear such anger from the young molly. “What do you mean? You did well!” He replied, unsure what had suddenly upset her.

“So did he, and that’s the problem!” The newest warrior spat, her scruff bristling. “You can see just as well as I can that he can fight just as well as a warrior, so why is he stuck here practicing with me? He should be practicing with the other apprentices - with a real warrior!”

Though her words had clarified her meaning, he still tilted his head in confusion. “You are a real warrior, Cinderspark. You earned your warrior name.” He replied, abandoning his attempts at silent-speak now. He had the feeling this wasn’t a conversation that Cinderspark wanted Snowkit to hear.

She tossed her head with a dismissive snort. “You know what I mean. He should have a mentor, not someone like me teaching him. He deserves to be an apprentice.”

Fireheart wilted slightly. She was right, of course - he’d seen how Snowkit was improving under Cinderspark’s tutelage. He was just as good as any other apprentice at sparring now, and while he hadn’t seen the white tom hunt, he was sure that with training he would be able to perform just as well as Cherrypaw or Brightpaw. It wasn’t fair that he was forced to be an elder when he was so young - when he had so much life left in him.

“Be that as it may, Cinderspark, what can we do about it? Bluestar’s made up her mind.” He took care not to mention the leader’s state - though she was doing better, she was still so fragile. Even if she did change her mind - which she didn’t seem eager to do - getting her to do a ceremony right now seemed like too much.

“You’re her deputy, for Starclan’s sake! Make her change her mind!” The gray molly snapped back at him, her fluffy tail still lashing as she glared at him. “You’ve seen Snowkit training, and you agree that he should be an apprentice. It’s your job as a deputy to make sure he gets a mentor!”

Fireheart refrained from snarling back about how he shouldn’t be deputy. Nor could he remark upon how he couldn’t make her do anything; he’d tried, and failed, to make her depose of Tigerclaw, and that had turned out so wonderfully for the Clan. But those weren’t Cinderspark’s problems to concern herself with, so he said nothing aloud, instead looking out into the forest towards camp.

“Well?” She challenged him, getting up in his face now. “Or are you saying that he doesn’t deserve to be an apprentice? Do you think that I haven’t taught him well enough?” There was a furious spark in her eyes, a daring for him to challenge her - and he knew all too well exactly why it was there.

“No, I-” He sighed, standing up now and turning away from her. “Fine. I’ll go talk to her about it, but don’t expect anything to change. She… Just keep training, for now.”

He didn’t hear Cinderspark’s response as he padded away, his paws feeling like stone beneath him. He had a feeling he already knew how this was going to go; yet, the warrior was right that Snowkit deserved a chance, and there was always the possibility he was wrong. Maybe Bluestar would change her mind now.

He pushed through the bramble tunnel into camp, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze as he entered. “Fireheart!” He grimaced as he heard his name called, looking up to see Peppermask crossing camp with a concerned green gaze. “Where have you been? After all the patrols returned, you weren’t back, and I-”

“I was taking a walk with Cinderspark.” He interrupted before she could finish. “She wanted to stay out and enjoy the stars some, so I let her. Now I need to go talk to Bluestar.”

“I- Oh. Alright, then.” The gray tabby looked baffled at his apparent disinterest and monotone voice, but he didn’t give her a chance to ask any questions before he was walking past her towards the Highrock. Whitestorm was sitting guard outside, his golden eyes curious as the deputy approached, but he was silent as Fireheart pushed his way past the moss and into Bluestar’s den.

The silver leader was cleaning her whiskers, having evidently just finished a meal. She blinked up at him, her blue eyes unreadable as she regarded her young deputy. “Fireheart? What is it?” She asked, her voice quiet but loud enough to hear in the small den.

He took a deep breath, trying not to let his nerves get to him. He hadn’t even thought of what he was going to say, but he couldn’t just walk back out. “Snowkit should be an apprentice.” He announced, his words echoing off the stone around him.

Bluestar’s gaze immediately narrowed at his words. “Perhaps you don’t realize, Fireheart, but Snowkit is deaf. He cannot hear sounds. He is a liability out on the territory, when he can’t hear a Monster on the Thunderpath, or orders during a battle. He can’t hear the bark of a dog or-”

“I know that, Bluestar.” Fireheart snapped, cutting her off before she could go further. “I know he’s deaf, but it does him and the Clan a disservice to have an able-bodied cat wasting away in the elder’s den - not to mention it’s cruel to never give him at least an apprentice name, when even I got one on my first day in the Clan. Certainly, he might have to make certain concessions - not fighting in battle, not patrolling alone - but there’s no reason not to at least train him to hunt and fight.”

“You say you know, yet you clearly don’t understand.” Bluestar snapped at him, her silver scruff slowly rising now. “Any moment he’s out on the territory, he will have to be watched by another warrior, a constant burden on our already limited ranks. He will be impossible to train when he can’t hear instructions. The most he can do is gather moss, clean nests, and fix the camp wall, which is precisely what he does now. He’s fine where he is.”

Fireheart dug his claws into the ground below him, trying his hardest not to growl bitterly at the queen before him. “But it’s not fine, Bluestar! He’s miserable where he is, and so are most of the elders. They want to see him trained, not just me and Speckleflight. You can ask any of them, and they’ll all say they think he deserves a chance. If you could just see-”

“Are you questioning my judgement?” Bluestar hissed, her tail tip flicking furiously as she stared him down. “Snowkit will remain an elder. That is final.”

For a heartbeat, Fireheart considered walking away. Was this argument really necessary over Snowkit, of all the cats in the Clan? Perhaps it was better to keep the peace for now, to let her think about it and come to terms with it on her own time.

Then he straightened up, his own tail lashing as he glared back at her. He’d been meek and submissive to Bluestar long enough; sooner or later, he would have to stand up to her, and Snowkit was as worthy of a cause as he could think of. “Yes, actually, I am.” He spat back, letting his fur rise to match hers. “You call Snowkit deaf, but you’re the one that refuses to listen when anyone tries to tell you anything, because you can’t ever admit you might be wrong. You didn’t listen to Yellowfang when she said Starclan sent a sign that Tigerclaw shouldn’t be deputy; you didn’t listen to me when I told you he was a murderer; and not only that, you ignored Frostfur’s wishes and gave her kit to be trained by him just to spite me!”

The silver leader stared at him with wide blue eyes, but he wasn’t finished yet. “And as if that wasn’t enough, now you huddle here in your den so you can ignore the mess you’ve made - that you continue to make - outside! Snowkit does his best all day, trying to prove to you that he can be an apprentice, not that you’ll ever bother to see it. I’m out there running myself ragged trying to keep this Clan from falling apart - I even had to represent Thunderclan on my own at the Gathering, thanks to you. And that’s not even mentioning the flood, which you wouldn’t have known about if I hadn’t told you.”

The den was quiet now, filled only with the sound of him breathing heavily as he glared at the leader he had looked up to for so long. “What happened to you, Bluestar?” He asked, lowering his voice now. “When I first joined Thunderclan, you seemed so wise, so powerful. You handled Redtail’s death with grace and dignity, even as you mourned the loss of a deputy that had led by your side for seasons. I remember how you sent me after Yellowfang, alone, because you knew the rest of the Clan might hurt her over Spottedleaf’s death. And I remember, too, how you stood up for Windclan, how you convinced the other leaders into letting them return. You were a great leader.” He shook his head and turned away. “At least, that’s what I thought. I wanted to believe it so badly, but now, with how you’ve been acting? I think I only thought you were great because that was what I wanted to see. I think there was never a great leader to begin with; only this miserable, stubborn old cat whose ears are so far up among the stars that they can’t listen to the rest of us still on the ground.”

He knew without a doubt that he had lost this argument. He knew that he had taken a swing at their already tenuous relationship with such force that it would surely shatter. And though he knew that he would regret it later, he couldn’t help but feel as though he had shaken off a burden he didn’t even know was there.

He didn’t look back as he stormed out of the curtains, past Whitestorm, and towards the entrance. Cinderspark was by the elders’ den with Snowkit, looking at him expectantly, but he didn’t even give her a glance as he rushed past. He wasn’t sure where he was going - just that he needed to be out of camp at this very moment.

He had only gotten halfway up the ravine wall when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Whitestorm walking towards him, his thick brows furrowed. “Young Fireheart! Please, wait a moment.”

“Save it.” Fireheart growled, turning back to continue climbing up the rocky slope. With how loud he had shouted, he had no doubt that Whitestorm had heard every word of his ranting at Bluestar, and was surely coming to admonish him for lashing out at his aunt. “I don’t need a lecture from you. I said what I said, and I meant every word.”

He thought that might be enough to ward Whitestorm off - at least for a little while - but he soon heard the scattering of pebbles behind him as the large tom followed him. “I will not scold you, Fireheart.” He blinked in surprise, turning back at the top of the ravine to watch the warrior clamber up beside him. “Perhaps there was a gentler way for it to be said, but that is not the point I was going to make. You told her the truth; she was going to have to hear it eventually.”

“I…” Fireheart sighed, letting the tension in his shoulders relax. With a flick of his tail, Whitestorm signaled for the younger tom to follow, and he did so without hesitation. “I shouldn’t be deputy, Whitestorm. I hate being deputy. I know everyone’s judging me and I don’t know if I’m making the right decisions and I’m scared of what will happen when I make the wrong one. I want to go back to being a warrior. I want her to choose someone better, and I don’t understand why she refuses to when you’re right there.”

It felt good to get it all out, sharing his worries with the empty night as they walked. The large warrior beside him listened, not saying a word, until a moment had passed after his last words and the older Thunderclanner was sure he had no more to say. “How much do you know about Adderfang?” Whitestorm asked Fireheart quietly.

He blinked up at Whitestorm, a mixture of confusion and anger and sadness all coursing through him at once at the question. “I don’t- I know he was Bluestar’s rival for deputy. I know Pinestar thought he was the subject of a prophecy. I know he mentored Tigerclaw, when he was an apprentice. I know… I know he ordered Tigerclaw to attack Tinyfrost, before he had joined the Clan.”

The great warrior nodded sadly, turning his gaze out into the forest. “Yes, those are all true. He was a fierce fighter, the Clan’s greatest warrior - just like Tigerclaw was. There was none around that could best him - not even Raggedstar or Crookedstar. Every cat in Thunderclan admired him, in a way - especially his kits, Willowbranch, Nightwish, and Mistspring.” He looked back to the young deputy to catch his green gaze widening in shock. “Yes, surprising, isn’t it? They don’t act much like him - except, perhaps, for Mistspring, who inherited his boldness.”

Fireheart dipped his head in agreement. “I… the way everyone talks about him, I can’t see him having kits.”

“Tigerclaw had kits, did he not? Only Dustleap seems to have inherited his warlike ways, though even Sandstorm has his combative nature.” Whitestorm glanced up at the foliage above them for a moment. “The truth is, Fireheart, no cat is fully good - just as no cat is fully bad. Even Tigerclaw, for all his faults, believed he was doing what he must for the good of the Clan.”

They walked in silence for several heartbeats before Whitestorm spoke again. “As you already know, Pinestar was the leader of Thunderclan before Bluestar. His father, Oakstar, was leader before him. It was claimed - though I do not know whether it was true - that Thunderstar himself was their ancestor, and that made them more suited than any cat to rule Thunderclan.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Whitestorm’s ears perked at Fireheart’s exclamation, and the ginger tom quickly composed himself. “I mean, every cat I’ve met seems to think Pinestar was a terrible leader. And Bluestar is- she was a good leader, before Tigerclaw, and she’s not related to them, is she?”

“No. Though there were rumors Pinestar was my father, when I was an apprentice. Bluestar squashed any notion of that when I asked her about it though.” Fireheart looked away, trying not to show that he knew the truth - that Brokentail, who everyone believed Whitestorm had killed, was his father. “And yes - though Pinestar’s story has been revised since his disappearance, he was weak-willed and poorly adapted to leadership. He was a fine cat - had he not become leader, I am sure he would have been a good warrior, and retired at old age to become a beloved elder. But because of Oakstar’s insistence on Thunderstar’s legacy…”

Fireheart nodded slowly in response. He was beginning to understand why Whitestorm had brought up the old leader now. “But how does Adderfang fit into this? He wasn't related to Pinestar, was he?”

Whitestorm shook his head. “No, not to my knowledge. The truth is, Pinestar wanted Tigerclaw to succeed him, just as he had succeeded his father before him. He was old, however, and on his last life when Tigerclaw was born. He knew it was unlikely he would survive to see Tigerclaw become a warrior - let alone a warrior old enough to mentor an apprentice and become deputy. He needed an intermediary, a cat he could trust to choose Tigerclaw, or his kits, when the time came. Someone who would fulfill his legacy.” The white tom scrunched his nose up into a grimace. “Remember, he already believed Adderfang was chosen by Starclan. He thought that if he gave his only kit to Adderfang to mentor, that Adderfang would watch over him as if he were Tigerclaw’s father, and that he would one day be more likely to choose him to succeed him in leadership.”

“And he knew Bluefur wouldn’t?” Fireheart questioned. After all, she had ended up choosing Tigerclaw in the end - even if it had been a dire mistake she had paid for with her lives.

“Bluefur was never very fond of Pinestar - she tolerated him as her leader, but that was as far as her respect for him went. After her mother died in a raid on Windclan territory, she made a habit of questioning his decisions. I suspect he believed she wouldn’t respect his wishes.” Whitestorm sniffed disdainfully at the thought of the older leader. “Of course, when he was confronted by the cat that Adderfang had become, he had no choice but to choose her instead, regardless of the consequences of his legacy. Perhaps if he had made better decisions, things would have been different - but it’s so easy to say that, with the benefit of hindsight.”

Fireheart curled his lip at that. Perhaps Whitestorm was right, and if he had been in Pinestar’s place, he would have made similar decisions. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as if, with all that he’d heard about Pinestar, he could have been a better leader. One that Thunderclan deserved - and certainly not one that mentored his kit to a kit-killer.

“It was from Pinestar’s decisions that Bluestar realized the risks inherent in creating a legacy of leaders - that it would prevent leaders from choosing the best warrior for their deputy, allowing weak leaders to ascend and wreak havoc on the Clan with their poor decisions. Or, in the case of Raggedstar and Brokentail, that it would blind the leader to their children’s faults.” The names of the old Shadowclan leaders spilling from Whitestorm’s tongue sent a jolt up Fireheart’s spine. The senior warrior had no idea that he was talking about his father and grandfather - not that the ginger tom dared tell his companion that. “She swore that she would never allow a legacy to form in Thunderclan again. Not Pinestar’s, nor-”

“Then why’d she let Tigerclaw be deputy? He’s still Pinestar’s son.” Fireheart blurted out before he could stop himself. Whitestorm’s stare made him duck his head apologetically, but he felt his question was right, and didn’t intend to take it back. “I mean, how’d she know he wouldn’t continue said legacy?”

“Before Quickflash’s death, she wouldn’t have considered him for precisely that reason. Though Dustleap and Sandstorm are fine warriors, and may make good leaders one day, she feared that Tigerclaw would feel fettered by the past. Though he rejects his father wholeheartedly, she worried that he might feel compelled to follow his wishes regardless…” Whitestorm’s gaze was troubled as he spoke, his tail flicking like his aunt’s often did when she was irritated. “If Redtail hadn’t appeared, I still have my doubts she would have chosen him. And yet…”

Fireheart grit his teeth at the mention of the troublesome tortoiseshell tom that had haunted the forest. He knew Redtail hadn’t intended for his appearance to cause such damage - and yet, knowing that it had, he couldn’t help but blame him for their recent troubles. Perhaps if he’d just minded his business…

“From your outburst earlier, it seems as if you already know what happened.” Whitestorm mewed, a tinge of curiosity in his eyes as he regarded the younger cat beside him.

“Yellowfang told me.” Fireheart admitted readily - there was no harm in Whitestorm knowing now, he figured. “She was one of the cats that discovered what Tigerclaw was up to before… before.” He didn’t need to say it out loud; they both knew he was speaking about the final battle in Thunderclan’s camp. “That was why she was so insistent on him not becoming deputy.”

“I had wondered as much.” His older companion replied, returning his gaze to the path ahead of them. Fireheart wasn’t sure exactly where they were going - perhaps towards the Great Sycamore? - but he also figured it didn’t really matter. The territory was theirs, after all, and it wasn’t likely that anyone would disturb them now. 

“Do you wish he hadn’t shown up?” Fireheart questioned the wise white warrior, wondering if perhaps he had had the same thoughts regarding Redtail’s appearance.

“No.” Whitestorm replied, to his surprise. “It was sudden, true, but it was a sign that Yellowfang interpreted easily. Starclan doesn’t always send such clear signs - Goosefeather taught me that, and though Spottedleaf tried her best, she rarely received such insight into their visions.”

Right - Fireheart had forgotten that not every cat knew that Redtail hadn’t yet joined Starclan. His sign had only been a result of his will. “I just - if Yellowfang interpreted it so easily, why did Bluestar ignore her?”

“I wish I knew.” The other tom admitted with a heavy sigh. “Bluestar has always heavily considered what Goosefeather and Spottedleaf had to say - even if she disagreed with their interpretations in the end. Her ignoring of Yellowfang worried me, and since then…”

He trailed off for a moment, and they both knew Whitestorm was thinking of his aunt - curled up in her nest, staring sightlessly at nothing after her deputy’s betrayal. “Starclan rarely sends a clearer sign. I can’t fault them for it - I only wish Bluestar had listened.”

Fireheart nodded listlessly. He wished the same - or that Starclan had otherwise intervened when he had revealed Tigerclaw’s treachery to Bluestar. He understood in that case, however, why Redtail had chosen not to show up, given what had happened when he’d tried it before. “Did they send a sign that clear to make me deputy? Some cats were thinking that, and I-”

“No.” His heart sank as he heard Whitestorm confirm what he had feared. “Bluestar, she- I think that she was afraid of choosing another deputy that could betray her again. She trusted Tigerclaw so much, and I think that the thought of trusting any cat with that position felt impossible. She hasn’t told me why she chose you, but I have a theory of my own. You were the only one there to save her - in her mind, I think, that made you the only one she could trust.”

The young deputy did his best to keep his face impassive, but his thoughts churned with bitter resentment. “What about Tinyfrost? He was there too. Or you? She trusts you most of all, so surely-”

He swallowed back his anger as Whitestorm rested his white tail against Fireheart’s ginger flank. “Because she fears creating her own legacy, as Oakstar did. She never wants to see a dynasty like that form in Thunderclan again - and, to that end, that she will never chose a cat related too closely to her as her deputy, out of fear that it might cause them to form their own legacy.”

“But that’s mouse-brained!” Fireheart exclaimed, stiffening as his thoughts caught up to his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud - but thankfully, Whitestorm was smiling at him, seeming amused by the younger tom’s words. “I mean - you’d make a fine deputy, regardless of your relation to Bluestar. Why can’t she see that?”

Whitestorm dipped his head to Fireheart. “I’m glad to have your vote of confidence, young one. Who knows? Perhaps I would make a good leader.” He gave a deep, heavy sigh and stared once more into the forest. “But Bluestar has made up her mind, and I respect her reasoning, enough that I won’t argue her out of it. For better or worse, I will never be deputy - and neither will Tinyfrost or Lionheart.”

Fireheart tilted his head in confusion. “You I understand, I guess, since you’re her nephew, and she mentored you. Tinyfrost too - she’s the reason he joined Thunderclan, after all, and she mentored him too. But why in Starclan’s name wouldn’t she choose Lionheart?”

“Because he’s my mate.” Whitestorm replied simply.

“That’s-” Fireheart refrained from saying mouse-brained again, even though it was precisely that. “By that logic, you might as well eliminate half the Clan! You were raised with Frostfur and Tigerclaw, so are they too close to you to be considered? What about your apprentices? Or me, since I was Tinyfrost’s apprentice? Or-”

“He is the father of my kits - therefore, he is related to me, and related to her.” Whitestorm interrupted gently, turning his gaze back to the tom beside him. Fireheart guessed the explanation made sense, though he didn’t like it any more than he had before. “Your dismay is understandable, however. It is a concern that Lionheart once shared, when I first told him Bluestar’s reasoning.”

“Really?” Fireheart perked his ears in surprise. Tinyfrost had once told him that Lionheart had been seen as a reckless, hot-headed warrior - a far cry from the subdued, wise warrior that was so similar to his mate, Whitestorm. It was not that Lionheart had shared his thoughts that surprised him, but rather that they were still mates despite it. “But he’s still your mate, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Whitestorm’s golden gaze clouded briefly. “But we weren’t born mates. We were once young warriors - fearless, reckless, witless young warriors.” He shook his head with another gentle sigh, even though his whiskers twitched as he smiled slightly. “When our hearts first began growing together, I told him what Bluestar had told me - that I would never become deputy, and that if he became my mate, he would never become deputy either. He… did not take it well. We ended up going our separate ways as a result.”

If Fireheart was honest, he didn’t know that much about love. What little it had been spoken of to him was confusing and alien, as it seemed to be when he spoke about Twoleg mannerisms to the other Clan cats. He had never heard of love breaking apart before - he’d almost thought it wasn’t possible, with how Graystripe and Silverstream acted. “But you’re about to have kits together, aren’t you? Something must have changed.”

“Indeed - though it did not seem that way at the time.” Whitestorm rumbled, shadows passing over his eyes once more. “We spent close to two season-cycles apart. I had assumed we were fated to be apart - that Starclan’s destiny was for me to walk alone, just as my aunt had. We grew to be great warriors - I had my own apprentice, Mistspring, and he was renowned as one of Thunderclan’s best warriors.”

Fireheart hadn’t heard that Whitestorm had mentored Mistspring before, but he supposed it made sense - she often seemed quite similar to his other apprentice, Sandstorm, though far less prickly. “And then?” He prompted, curious to hear the end of the tale.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now of the Great Hunger, the leafbare before you joined. The prey was scarce, and famine ravished the clan - followed shortly by an outbreak of greencough that spread quickly through those already weakened by hunger. Many cats died from it, especially among the elders and senior warriors. I was nearly one of them.” Whitestorm’s ear flicked at his companion’s gasp of shock. “I contracted greencough, and was laid in Spottedleaf’s den. At my weakest, she had told Bluestar to prepare for my vigil, and Lionheart - he told me he overheard.”

“He told me that in that moment, he realized one thing - that being Thunderclan’s deputy, or leader, would mean nothing to him if it was a Thunderclan without me. He begged Starclan to save me, and it seems they saw fit to listen to his prayers.” A genuine smile was on the mighty warrior’s maw now as he looked up at the stars above them. “I began to recover, and he came to me and… you can imagine the rest.”

“Just like that?” Fireheart asked skeptically. “You didn’t hold any resentment against him?”

“No.” Whitestorm answered readily. “Though I can see how you would think that. Every kit dreams of being deputy, and perhaps even leader, one day; It is the greatest dream that a warrior can aspire to. Though he had not yet received an apprentice, Lionheart was a brave and bold warrior, and had trained under our longtime deputy, Redtail.”

“He had a bright future ahead of him; if he had not become my mate, there was every chance he could be chosen to become Bluestar's deputy when Redtail retired. I can't blame him for being upset and not wanting to throw that away.” Whitestorm tilted his head and looked back to Fireheart now.  “It was a childish dream, but it was a dream nonetheless, and I don’t blame him for being unable to let go of it so easily. In the end, I accepted his reconciliation because I saw that he was speaking the truth, and that he had grown significantly in our time apart. That is a belief I still hold true today.”

Fireheart hadn’t had a chance to think of his future beyond being a warrior; he had been so caught up in what Tigerclaw was scheming and preventing the dark tabby from becoming leader, that he hadn’t even considered becoming deputy or leader. Now that it had been thrust upon him, he struggled to understand why any cat would want to be either; but he knew that he had gotten a look into leadership that most cats didn’t have, and that perhaps if he was still a young warrior, he would feel differently. 

“I see.” He responded at last. “And what about you? Are you okay with never being deputy?”

The older warrior chuffed in amusement at his question. “When I was a young warrior, I must admit that I was frustrated with Bluestar's decision. I didn't fully understand it as I do now; as you, I'm sure, do now. But, in time, I have come to understand her reasons, and, truth be told, I have reasons of my own - reasons that, I suspect, are very similar to yours.” The warrior’s golden gaze burned into him now, and his fur began to prickle uncomfortably. It almost felt like when he had met Bluestar for the first time, and how she had seemed to know his every thought before even he had it. “You have seen how the burden of leadership weighs heavily on my aunt. While it's true that I could be a good leader one day, I think I would prefer to live a quiet life; one with Lionheart, and my kits, where I grow old and become a wise and beloved elder - the fate that Pinestar had taken from him by becoming leader."

Whitestorm was right; were it not for Bluestar, and how she had seemed to crumble after Tigerclaw’s betrayal, he might be fine with being deputy. Things would be far different if he hadn’t had to essentially lead the Clan in her absence. "It sounds childish, but I don't want to be Bluestar’s deputy anymore.  I don't want to be leader one day. I want to become a great warrior, maybe a great elder one day - no more than that." Fireheart mewed plaintively. 

Whitestorm nodded as if he had anticipated this. "I understand. You have carried a heavy burden, one that I suspect your peers would not have been able to carry so gracefully. Perhaps, with more time, when you are older, when you have had your own apprentices, you may change your mind once more - and there is no shame in that. But there is also no shame in admitting your weaknesses and knowing that you cannot carry this mantle for much longer.”

They walked through the forest for a long moment, silence filling the gap between them, until the white tom finally spoke up once more. “For now, I would ask that you stay deputy. My aunt is in a fragile state right now, seeing threats behind every word and shadows within even the brightest light. Give me time - give her time - and I will convince her to choose someone else as deputy. There are more candidates now than there were; quite good candidates, I suspect. Perhaps she will have an easier time now picking one of them."

Fireheart wished the answer was different - but he also understood Whitestorm’s reasoning. If he stepped down now, after his fight with Bluestar, she might perceive that as a betrayal in and of itself - and he feared what that could do to make her spiral, and potentially harm the Clan as a whole. “I understand, Whitestorm.”

"Is that all? Have I relieved your mind?" The mighty warrior asked, keeping his ears perked and his gaze focused on his deputy beside him.

Fireheart thought about it for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Thinking about there being an end in sight - the explanation you gave - I understand now, and I think I can handle being deputy a little bit longer."

Whitestorm nodded. "Very well. Now, if I may - there is a question that I wanted to ask you."

"Me?" Fireheart asked in surprise. Whitestorm was so wise and knowledgeable - he struggled to think of anything that he knew that the other tom didn’t, at this point.

"Yes. Ever since you first discovered her, you have always been closest to Yellowfang - and now, it is Yellowfang that troubles me. Or, perhaps, not her herself - but her behavior.”

A tangle of memories surfaced in his mind - Yellowfang in the foxhole prison, comforting her son Brokentail; Fireheart talking to the prisoner and learning of his half-Clan son; the shock of realization when Bluestar had told him about Snowstorm’s death. "How so?" Fireheart asked, his heart pounding. He suspected he knew what Whitestorm meant, yet he played dumb anyways - it was always possible that the older tom meant something else.

"Lately, Yellowfang has been spending a lot of time with me. At first, I thought it was simply because I was guarding Brokentail often - then, because of my injuries. But now that I am healed and well, and Brokentail is - " His head dropped slightly at the thought - "dead, I cannot understand why she chooses to remain in my company. She has always been an ill-tempered molly. To see her softer side so suddenly and so often confuses me. I've been trying to make sense of it - and I had hoped that you, being closest to her, might understand her change in attitude."

Fireheart nodded slowly. "Yes." He admitted at last, knowing he couldn’t pretend anymore. "I do know why, but I can’t tell you - it’s not my secret to tell. She means well, but- you’ll have to ask her yourself if you want to know more."

"I had suspected something like that. Still," Whitestorm sighed heavily, “I worry that she’ll take it the wrong way. Her behavior is perplexing, but I can’t say it is unwelcome. With Bluestar being so fragile, it’s nice to have a steady figure to turn to.” 

He had to admit this was a reasonable worry - even he had to admit that he and Yellowfang were prone to misunderstandings, the most prominent being when he had thought she knew about Tigerclaw when she was talking about a prophecy. “If that happens, just tell me. I’m certain that I can get through to her.” Which was more than he could say for Bluestar, a constant source of frustration for him now.

“Thank you. That does help, at least little.” Whitestorm purred, finally coming to a stop. Fireheart did the same, confused as to the sudden halt in conversation. “I should be getting back to camp. Lionheart will be worrying about me, and I have Bluestar to attend to.” His ears flickered briefly, but he nonetheless stood tall as he gave Fireheart a friendly wave. “I will leave you to your thoughts. Perhaps you can do a little night hunting, to let off some of that steam.”

Fireheart nodded in understanding; and, truth be told, that did sound like a good idea. He had a lot to process about what Whitestorm had told him, and he didn’t feel like returning to camp and facing Cinderspark and Snowkit anyways. “Can you tell Cinderspark not to wait up for me, as well? I’ll talk to her tomorrow, just… not right now.”

The older tom looked curious, but clearly sensed his desire not to elaborate. “I will do just that. Good hunting, Fireheart, and may Starclan light your path.”

“And may they light yours.” Fireheart echoed, watching as the white tom disappeared into the dark shadows beyond. He looked around at the forest surrounding him; a quiet silver in the moonlight, still and silent as it waited for the sun to rise once more. Hunting would be difficult, with only nocturnal creatures out now, but it was really the solitude that the ginger tom desired now.

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?”

Thunderclan couldn’t afford a war with Riverclan right now. There were so few warriors, and he wasn’t sure he could trust all of them - least of all himself - in a battle against the other Clan. There was Bluestar to contend with as well, the once great leader barely leaving her nest without his or Yellowfang’s prodding. If they went to war, Thunderclan would lose, he was sure of it, and it would be just one more criticism that the elders would have of his being deputy.

He slowed to a halt as he reached a familiar clearing - one in which, long ago, he’d seen Riverclan cats for the first time. He gently dropped Robinkit, the other two warriors doing the same behind him. He opened his mouth, about to mew instruction to the other warriors, but stopped when a gray striped tail slapped across his mouth. He blinked, staring bewilderedly at Peppermask, but she didn’t say anything, instead gesturing for him to be quiet.

Fireheart perked his ears, suddenly painfully aware of how close they were to the Riverclan border. Had she heard warriors coming? He pricked his ears, expecting to hear cats approaching, but the only thing he could hear was birdsong. He watched, his confusion growing, as she stalked away into the bushes, firmly in their own territory. Had she heard trespassers?

He was about to follow her when he heard a startled squawk, followed by the sound of a dozen wings frantically taking to the air. Peppermask returned with a bright smile, carrying a plump pigeon in her jaws. “I saw them as we approached.” She explained as she dropped it in front of the kits. “I didn’t want you scaring them off. No point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

Though his heart was still racing from the thought of an approaching threat, he had to agree with her reasoning. “That seems sensible.” He admitted, trying to calm himself down. “Hey, have you kits ever-”

He startled as he looked down at the kits, who were tearing into the bird with a ferocious zeal that made him feel a little nervous for his own hide. “Hey, don’t- don’t choke on the feathers, please.” He warned them, though he wasn’t entirely sure they heard him as they continued crunching into the carcass.

He hadn’t noticed before, with too much else on his mind, but he realized now how skinny the three kits were. Between his and Peppermask’s hunting, not to mention Yellowfang’s help, Princess’ kits were pudgy, bordering on fat. It felt unnatural to see these kits, almost skin and bones, now ravaging the prey set in front of them. How long had it been since they ate? Surely they hadn’t starved this badly from a single day of adventure - this was at least a quarter-moon without eating, maybe more. 

When he looked at Peppermask, he expected to see surprise on her face, but she was just watching them with sadness. “I could feel Dawnkit’s spine when I picked her up. That’s why I- I couldn’t let them go back, and find out later that they’d starved to death…” She explained softly to him when she saw him watching.

“The river is Riverclan’s main source of food, and it freezes over in leafbare. Most of the prey in the lowlands goes into hibernation, too.” Graystripe mumbled from his other side. “That’s why they get so fat in leaf-fall; they need all the food they can get to survive leafbare. They try to have kits in newleaf, when the fish return, so that they’ll have plenty to eat.”

Fireheart looked on, his heart aching as he watched the kits devour every last scrap of the pigeon. If the kits were this skinny, the part of the Clan that ate first, how was the rest of the Clan alive? What if they’d all perished in the floods, unable to summon the strength to swim-

No, he wouldn’t let himself think such thoughts. “Come on, you three.” He mewed, nudging them with his nose. They moved from the bones reluctantly, glancing back as though hoping they might spot a spare morsel that they had missed. “It’s time to get you back to your mother.”

They moved through what little bracken remained to look down on Sunningrocks. Just like the rest of the land close to the river, it was flooded, the normal stone floor vanished beneath the water. However, just as they’d hoped, some of the normal stone towers that made Sunningrocks so valuable were still a tail-length or more above the water. His heart soared as he saw cats moving around - dozens of them, an entire Clan’s worth.

He turned to the kits. “You three stay here for a moment.” He nodded the same to Peppermask and Graystripe before, with a deep sigh, wading a few tail-lengths out until the water was lapping firmly around his forelegs. “Riverclan!” He called, watching as the entire Clan’s head turned as one at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Is Ivyskip among you? We must speak with her.”

He could see some cats already bristling at him, ready to challenge him. He was technically intruding, although he hoped that they would see it was for a good reason, and he’d expected minor aggression at his appearance. He could hear talking, though not well enough to make out words or who was speaking, before several cats dove into the water and swam towards him, leaving the rest of the Clan on the rocks. They didn’t seem to be a battle patrol, at least, which was a good start.

He flicked his tail for them to follow him, then moved back to mostly dry land. “Come here. Let them see you, all of you. We don’t want them to think this is an ambush.” He mewed, the kits and warriors emerging from the bracken to stand beside him.

It was only heartbeats before the Riverclan cats were upon them, and he was grateful to realize he recognized most of them. Crookedstar was leading them, his jaw twisted up in an ugly scowl, while Leopardflame and Mistyskip flanked him. Behind them was a tortoiseshell queen he didn’t recognize - Ivyskip, if he had to guess.

“My kits!” His thoughts were confirmed as the queen raced past him as soon as she could stand, enveloping them all in her still-dripping embrace. “You’re safe! Oh, Starclan, thank Starclan you’re all safe…”

Crookedstar’s green gaze warmed slightly as he watched the family reunite. “And how, might I ask, did Thunderclan come by three of Riverclan’s kits?” The leader asked, his gaze narrowing to glare down at Fireheart. He steadied himself, not wanting to seem afraid and guilty. They had done nothing wrong rescuing these kits; he would not let Thunderclan be blamed.

He opened his mouth to reply. “They stole them from us! They must have!” Leopardflame spat before he could speak, her spotted pelt rising as she advanced on the three young Thunderclanners. “They’ve been nothing but trouble for us all of leafbare! First with the prey-stealing, and then-”

“We didn’t steal them!” Fireheart snapped back before she could finish. “We were out to survey the extent of the flooding near the Owltree when we heard kits calling for help. The branch they were on broke apart in front of us, so we rescued them before they could drown.”

“Really? You expect us to believe that?” The deputy straightened up to her full height with a hiss, though Fireheart suspected that if he tried he would be taller than her. “As if Thunderclan cats would ever get their paws wet!”

“Leopardflame.” Mistyskip mewed, casting a disdainful glance at her deputy as she stepped up beside her uncle. “Look at their bellies. They’re soaked with water, all of them, which could only happen if they were submerged in water, and not just traveling in the rain. They have been swimming, and recently.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Leopardflame spat back, her eyes blazing furiously at the senior warrior that had dared to talk back to her. “If you’re so smart, then explain how they could find our kits near the Owltree, far upstream from camp!”

The silver molly looked unsettled at the deputy’s retort. Fireheart stepped forward to interrupt them before she could hazard a guess. “I think that might be answered by the kits themselves.” He turned to them, shivering and hugging their mother as tightly as possible. “Go on, then.”

The kits stared at him with wide, anxious eyes, and suddenly he felt fear strike his heart. They had to tell the truth, or Riverclan would be furious with them! After all that the three warriors had done for the kits…

Peppermask crouched down, her belly brushing the wet pebbles below. “Hey, you guys don’t want us to get in trouble for saving you, do you? Just tell them what you told us.” She mewed gently to the three.

Tears welled in Aspenkit’s eyes, but he slowly nodded and pulled away from the tortoiseshell queen. “We- we wanted to see the gorge for ourselves. But Dad wouldn’t take us, and- so we snuck out. We’re sorry! We didn’t know-”

“Shh, darling. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Ivyskip gently hushed her son and pulled him back against her again. “I believe them. Why would these Thunderclanners steal our kits just to bring them back?” She looked up with warm green eyes, bowing her head to each of them. “Thank you, all of you. You risked your lives to save my kits. I will never forget your kindness.”

Fireheart nodded back, even as exhaustion began to creep over him once again. “I’m just glad we were able to bring them back home. And I’m sure they’re glad, too.” He replied, turning back to the other three Riverclanners. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, but I assure you, not a single Thunderclanner is interested in stealing your kits. We already have enough trouble dealing with our own.”

Crookedstar’s whiskers twitched slightly at his words. “Well, in that case, Riverclan is grateful that you rescued them. I know it is not an easy task to swim in these floodwaters; doubly so for a cat not accustomed to swimming at all.” As he spoke, a spark lit in his gaze. “Say, Mistyskip, didn’t you mention something about rescuing a ginger Thunderclanner from the river a few moons ago?”

Fireheart’s ears flattened bitterly at the memory, and he was sure Graystripe was doing the same behind him. “Yes, Uncle. Him and the tom behind him were the very two Silverstream and I rescued.” Her blue eyes met his with a mischievous twinkle. “I’m glad to see that you two have learned how to swim since then.” 

He growled wordlessly in response, but she didn’t seem to take heed as she trotted past him to where Ivyskip was still holding her kits tightly. “Let’s get them up on the rocks. Leopardflame, if you would?”

The spotted deputy’s scowl worsened as she moved past the Thunderclan cats, gingerly picking up Robinkit before turning and leaping gracefully into the floodwaters. The three mollies were gone in mere moments with their charges, leaving only the Riverclan leader and the Thunderclan cats standing on the shoreline.

As Crookedstar turned away, presumably to follow them, Fireheart noticed how visible the leader’s hips were - not unlike, he realized, how Tallstar had been when they had led the Windclanners back home. He felt Graystripe and Peppermask tensing up beside him, and he knew they were thinking the same. “Crookedstar, may I speak to you for a moment?” He mewed quickly.

The normally muscular tabby turned back, his eyes wary but not hostile, as he regarded them with suspicion. “You have my attention.” The leader replied with a small courteous dip of his head.

“Let me be honest with you, Crookedstar.” The tabby’s tail tip twitched slightly as Fireheart spoke, but he nonetheless inclined his head slightly in agreement. “On the way here, Peppermask happened to catch a bird. She’s a good hunter; one of our best.” He glanced slightly to see her whiskers twitch as she acknowledged the praise, but he could see the worry etched clearly on her face. “We didn’t get a chance to decide what to do with it when the kits devoured it.”

Crookedstar sighed heavily and sat down, unbothered by the water that lapped around his paws. “I apologize for them. Kits can be impulsive, sometimes, and they must have been hungry from their little adventure. I promise you-”

“This wasn’t a matter of simple hunger. Those kits were starving. They cleaned those bones faster than a cat can lash their tail.” He could see the large tabby’s muscles tense up as he spoke. “You and I both know the warrior code says that kits must be fed first, and I don’t think those kits had eaten in the past quarter-moon. If they haven’t eaten, what about the rest of your Clan?”

The Riverclan leader’s scowl had returned as he glared at the presumptuous young Thunderclanner. “Perhaps you’re still unfamiliar with how the Clans work. Most warriors would consider it a grave offen-”

“I know that pointing out such weaknesses in another Clan is considered the highest of insults. But I also have to think that if those kits had had enough to eat, that they might not have needed our rescuing at all.” Fireheart took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew what he was thinking was essentially breaking the code. He also knew that if he didn’t speak up, he would never forgive himself. “If we hadn’t given them food, I’m not certain they would have lived through another quarter-moon. And now your lands are flooded, and you’ve admitted yourself that flood waters are difficult to navigate. You won’t be able to hunt until the flood subsides, and who knows when that will be?”

He could see Crookedstar’s lip curling as he listened to Fireheart speak. “Is there a point to this?” The other tom growled.

“There is, Crookedstar.” He dipped his head respectfully, though he was sure it didn’t feel like it to the tabby tom. “Now that newleaf has come, prey is returning to the forest. Many in Thunderclan have full bellies. Even though some of our best hunting territory is underwater, we can still spare prey, if it will ensure your Clan’s survival.”

The Thunderclan deputy and Riverclan leader stared at each other, gauging each other’s moods. Fireheart didn’t shy away from the other’s gaze; he meant every word he had said, even if it was tantamount to treason. “You claim that you are familiar with how the Clans work, and yet what you’re suggesting to me is antithetical to the very foundation of the Clans.” Crookedstar’s tone was carefully measured as he regarded the flame-colored deputy. “What will you ask for in return, hmm? Nothing comes without a price, and I will not indebt my Clan to yours when we are-”

“We ask for nothing. It was us, as you’ll recall, that traveled to bring Windclan home. We did not ask them for territory or prey then either. I don’t want Thunderclan to gain territory by exploiting the weakness of the Clans around us; if we are to expand our borders, it will be through battles with honorable warriors, as Starclan intends.” Even as he said it, he could tell Crookedstar was still skeptical. He wasn’t able to hold it against the other tom; he was certain that if Tigerclaw was speaking the same words, that he would absolutely intend to eventually use the favor against Riverclan. “Be honest with me, and with yourself, Crookedstar; if you cannot find prey by tomorrow, how many in your Clan will die of starvation?”

The tabby’s pale green eyes fell to the water he was sitting in, and he knew instantly that Crookedstar was picturing gaunt faces staring at him from the rocks. Had cats already died? “Be that as it may,” Crookedstar admitted with a heavy sigh, “the Clans have always survived independently. Starclan may - there will be those that go to greet them, but that is a warrior’s lot in life. I cannot burden my Clan to change that.”

“Perhaps it is not the duty of a warrior to care what happens to another Clan.” Fireheart answered readily, watching the leader’s proud stature even as his eyes were full of hunger, and his skin clung to his bones. “After all, the code tells us to care for our Clans above all else. But I have watched the code be used to defend driving out other Clans for the sake of one; I have watched the code be used to defend cold-blooded murder. Perhaps the code tells me that I should turn my back on Riverclan now, so that we can take Sunningrocks from the corpse of your Clan once the floodwaters go down. But I believe that being a warrior is about mercy as much as it is about strength, and so I will do what I can to alleviate your suffering, regardless of what the code says.”

They stared each other down for another long moment before Crookedstar’s eyes flicked to the two warriors behind him. “And what of you two? Do you agree with what your deputy says?” The leader asked dryly.

Fireheart didn’t dare look them in the eyes. “The code says that we cannot neglect a kit, no matter their origin.” He heard Peppermask mew behind him. “If we were to leave now to let your kits starve, then I think we would be breaking the code. If hunting for your Clan means that the kits will eat, and live, then it is my duty as a warrior to do so. Fireheart’s offer may be unconventional, but I believe he’s right.”

“Uh, yeah.” Graystripe mewed from his other side. “What my sister said.”

Crookedstar looked unable to believe his ears, his twisted jaw dropping slightly at their words. He looked down at his paws once again, seriously considering everything that had been said. “Perhaps you all have the bold-faced audacity to lie to my face.” He said at last, looking back up into Fireheart’s eyes with a vulnerable honesty he hadn’t had before. “But there is only so much I can do to argue when my Clan is dying. We barely managed to escape the flood when it surged through our camp. Frogleap is still missing because of it. My duty is to protect my Clan, no matter the cost. And whether the cost is Sunningrocks, or the river, or all of our lands; the code says that is a cost I must accept.” He looked away with another heavy sigh. “Very well. If Thunderclan should grant us some of their prey, then I will not - can not - turn it away.”

He wished he could convince the leader that his words were genuine, with no cost attached - but he knew better than to try. “We’ll be in the clearing behind us every day just after dawn. We’ll hunt for you until the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks.” He flicked his tail for the patrol to turn to leave. “Hopefully that day will come quickly.”

“Hopefully.” Crookedstar murmured, turning away from them and swimming back towards the rocks his Clan were huddled on without a further word. Fireheart turned away into the bracken as well, exhaustion from fighting the floodwaters and the task ahead creeping over him.

He had only stepped a few tail-lengths into the forest before Peppermask was whirling on him. “Are you mad?” She hissed - not angrily, he could tell, but from genuine fear. “How are you going to explain this to the rest of the Clan?”

He met her gaze evenly. He was past the point of caring what the Clan thought of him anymore - but he didn’t dare tell her that. “I won’t.” He replied simply, brushing past her to lead them back to camp. “They don’t have to even find out. How long can it be until the floods subside? A half-moon, maybe, or even a quarter-moon? If Graystripe could go moons without being caught having a Riverclan mate, I doubt anyone will even notice.” Even if they did, what would they do? The only cat that could exile him was curled up in her nest and could barely be prodded out. “I’m the deputy, after all. I can arrange the patrols to make sure no one’s ever around to find us. Besides, don’t you two pretend you didn’t want to offer the same thing.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it!” Still, he could hear her beginning to relax - his points made sense, after all. “Are you really planning on just the three of us doing this?”

“We’re both good hunters, and we have Graystripe to help as well.” Back when they were apprentices, that would have been a teasing joke, but there was no humor in his voice now. “That’s the size of an average hunting patrol. We could recruit others to help, but I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d trust to agree with what we’re doing and keep it a secret. We may not catch enough to feed their entire Clan, but hopefully it will at least be enough to keep them from starving.”

Peppermask was silent, clearly still trying to rationalize everything in her head. After a moment, he was surprised to hear Graystripe speak up. “I- Thank you, Fireheart. You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at the large tom behind him, keeping his eyes on the forest ahead. “I didn’t do it for you.” He responded.

“I know, but- still.” Graystripe didn’t have to say anything else - he already knew what the other was thinking. Kits, then queens, were fed first amongst all of the Clan. If the kits had been starving, then that meant that Silverstream had gone without food for just as long, if not longer, than they had. It was possible that if they didn’t help, she would have died. 

As much as he told Graystripe it hadn’t been for him, he couldn’t lie and pretend that hadn’t been in his mind when he had first offered to hunt for Riverclan. No matter what he thought of his former friend and his ill-fated romance, some small and sentimental part of him would never let Graystripe’s kits die. And though the task in front of them felt formidable to face down, he wouldn’t let fear stop him from doing the right thing.

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. 

“My eyes! He took my eyes!” The rogue leader howled, his voice echoing in the small cave until it sounded as though a thousand ghosts were lamenting alongside him. “I can’t see!”

“It was an unlucky claw strike.” Yellowfang murmured sadly as she turned away and began to paw herbs down from her collection to tend to him. “Why did you try and hold him back? You could not keep him safe from those rogues.”

“Keep him safe?” Brokentail barked, his voice a mixture of astonishment and fury. “Why would I want to keep that miserable rat safe? If not for him and these pathetic excuses for warriors, I would still be Shadowclan’s leader! I could have ruled the whole forest!”

The old healer paused, her paw hovering near a red flower, dulled by time; a poppy flower, he recognized after a moment. “They have protected you. They took you in and kept you safe, just as they did for me.”

“And I didn’t ask for it!” The tabby exile spat furiously, whipping his head in what he thought was Yellowfang’s direction. “I’d be better off dead than being watched over by these weakling kittypet sympathizers! At least then I wouldn’t have to suffer the constant indignity of being taken care of by a traitorous sack of bones like you!”

Fireheart winced at the insults being flung Yellowfang’s way. Part of him wanted to step forward and interrupt, but he knew that Yellowfang would never forgive him for defending her when she could defend herself. She was a proud Shadowclanner, even if she had left them for Thunderclan territory, and he didn’t dare take that from her in front of her own son.

The healer’s paw withdrew from the poppy seeds, evidently deciding that he didn’t need any herbs for his pain. It was for the best, he figured, given the wounds that needed treatment outside. “I warned you, when you first became leader, that if you did not temper your ambition and pride it would lead you to ruin.” She told him softly as she gathered up the other herbs. “There is no shame in admitting defeat, Brokentail. You can still find peace-”

“I don’t want peace! Look around you! See what peace has done for these flea-brains, who refuse to kill even their enemies!” Brokentail snarled, his namesake lashing bitterly against the moss beneath him. “Power is all that matters! Not that I expect a healer like you to ever understand, with your useless flowers and ramblings about Starclan!” 

Yellowfang reached her paw into another cubby, one Fireheart couldn’t see from his vantage point. “These useless flowers have saved lives. They can straighten bone, blot out infection, and create life - or take it, if need be.” She told him, her voice suddenly cold and lacking the gentle warmth that it always did when she was speaking to her son.

“Can they bring back my sight?” The prisoner retorted, his ears pinned back as he glared in her general direction.

“They can.” The old queen murmured softly to her son, but there was an ice in her voice that made Fireheart shiver uncomfortably. “Here. Take these seeds. They will give you what you need.”

She set down a large, flat leaf in front of him, with a small collection of round dark seeds on top. Poppy seeds? No, these had to be something else - but Fireheart didn’t have enough knowledge of herbs to identify them, especially from this far away. As he watched, she took one of the old rogue’s paws and guided it to where the leaf sat. 

It took him several moments to find the seeds, but once he did, he lapped them up eagerly. “Finally, you prove to have some use after all.” Brokentail growled as he swallowed them down. “How long until I can see again?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” Yellowfang promised, keeping her copper eyes focused on him. She didn’t move to take care of his other wounds, even though Fireheart could see several painful looking cuts along the former tyrant’s flank. “I wish you could have seen that power is not the only thing that matters in life. The warriors of Thunderclan understand that.”

She took a deep, painful-looking breath as she looked down at her son, who was clumsily beginning to clean himself. “They took me and the elders in, even though they did not have to, because it was the right thing to do. They made me feel as though I belonged, even though I was not born one of them. They could have done the same for you, in time.”

“Do I look like I care what those fools think?” He paused, spitting out a wad of matted fur in her direction before continuing to clean himself.

“No.” She admitted with a sigh as she got to her paws. “I know you care for nothing but yourself, Brokentail. Not the code, nor your Clan, nor even your own kin.”

The outlaw’s lip curled in something resembling a grin. “Are you still on about Raggedstar? That old crow was stifling the Clan. Don’t pretend as if you cared for him any more than I did.”

“Oh, but I did.” Yellowfang mewed, a gentleness trickling back into her tone at the thought of her old mate. “I loved him fiercely, and I know he would have died for me, had I asked him to. It was because of that love that I bore him a son. I often wonder how much would have changed, if I had chosen to raise him instead of that snake-hearted queen…”

The tabby rogue made a grotesque hacking noise at her words. “Spiders have spun webs in your skull, you old bat. I am Raggedstar’s only heir. Besides, healers aren’t allowed to have kits, according to your precious Starclan.”

“I know.” Yellowfang sighed mournfully, her posture defeated as she watched her son struggle to understand the weight of her words. “That is why I gave you up, so I could continue to care for the Clan I also loved. But I never stopped caring for you - never. I wept with pride the day you were named a warrior.”

“But then you murdered your own father.” She continued, her voice dropping to a low snarl filled with seasons of pent-up anger and bitterness. “You killed kits of your own Clan, and cast the blame on your healer - your own mother. You plotted to destroy the Clan that took you in despite the crimes you committed against it, all out of some misplaced sense of power and pride.” She shook her head slowly. “And so I must do what I should have done when you were first born, and put an end to your evil.”

“An end? What do you mean, you…” Brokentail tried to stand, but collapsed into his mossy nest instead. “What is this? What have you done to me?” He rasped, his legs moving weakly as though he was trying to get up, but his paws would not respond.

“Those were foxglove seeds that I gave you. Even one is a potent poison; with the amount you took, there is no surviving.” Her eyes were narrow slits as she gazed down on the broken shell of a once-feared leader. “I know this is your last life, Brokentail. Healers always know. And perhaps now I can rest peacefully at last, knowing that I will not be responsible for your sins any longer.”

Brokentail’s jaws parted in a cry of shock and fear. Fireheart thought he could hear regret there, too, but the blinded tom was unable to put words to it. His limbs thrashed and his paws scrabbled in the dust; his chest heaved as he fought for air. 

He turned away, not wanting to see the grisly scene, and padded back out into the camp clearing. Peppermask was still answering the many questions of the Clan in regards to Tigerclaw’s treachery - just as Fireheart moved to join her, he nearly collapsed as the wounds the exiled deputy had given him reasserted themselves.

He stumbled back to the healer’s den, knowing that he had to get treatment or he would bleed out where he stood. Inside, Yellowfang was pressed against her son’s side, mumbling words under her breath that only his spirit would be able to hear.

“Yellowfang?” He mewed softly, the old healer startling at his voice.

She raised her gaze to meet his, her dark eyes full of sorrow. “His wounds in the battle were too great. I did everything I could to save him, but it wasn’t enough.” She rasped, closing her eyes briefly as another wave of grief washed over her.

He didn’t dare tell her that he knew she was lying. He knew he had witnessed something he shouldn’t have. What happened with Brokentail was between her and Starclan, he believed, and not for him to judge. “I’m sorry, Yellowfang. I know you loved him, despite his flaws.” He tried his best to keep his voice even, to prevent her from realizing he knew the truth. “I know you want to mourn him, but Tigerclaw hurt me badly during our fight. Do you have anything to help?”

The healer’s ears perked in astonishment, and he realized that she had been within her own bubble during the whole ordeal. “You fought with Tigerclaw?” She shook her head and stood, stumbling over to her collection of herbs. “Take a seat in one of the nests. I should have enough supplies to help you.”

He nodded and took a seat in one of the mossy nests next to the pool of water in her den. "I did. With Tinyfrost's help, I defeated him. He'd attacked - killed Bluestar, and..." He trailed off, confusion suddenly surfacing in his mind once more. "Yellowfang, I don't understand. Bluestar died - twice, according to what she told Whitestorm. Yet she somehow still lives. How...?"

She paused, turning to face him with a look of bewilderment on her flat face. “All this time in the Clan, and still no cat has told you about a leader’s nine lives?” She asked, her voice lacking the bitter sarcasm it normally would in her surprise.

“Nine lives? But that’s just an old queens’ tale! Cats don’t really get to live nine times.” Fireheart bristled at the thought. He remembered Henry telling him about it once, long ago, as well as detailing how he’d lost several of his own lives. He’d thought the older tom was exaggerating. But if it was really true…

The two stared at each other for a long moment. For the first time in a long while, Fireheart felt once again like a newcomer - one who understood nothing of Clan tradition, who had to have every little detail explained to him. He felt himself shrinking down to a small apprentice once more under Yellowfang’s incredulous stare, until at last she turned away and began pawing out herbs.

“Once they have named their deputy, leaders are taken to the Moonstone by their oldest healer. There, they receive nine lives from Starclan in a special ceremony. They use these nine lives to serve their Clan.” The dark gray molly explained flatly as she grabbed at several golden flowers - marigold, he recognized, from the clearing in which they had first discussed Redtail together. “An old queens’ tale, great Starclan!” She mused to herself before she gently picked up a leaf bundle thick with flowers and turned to carry it over to him, setting it down beside the nest he’d picked. 

He flattened his ears at her incredulous condescension. “You have to admit that it sounds made up. Once things die, they’re supposed to stay dead. That’s what death means. That’s why…” He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He’d also believed the same thing when it came to Starclan spirits, but Redtail had proved him wrong. He’d wondered what sort of powers Starclan had then - it seemed trivial now, that they would be able to bring back the dead.

Yellowfang sighed as she began to examine his wounds. “I suppose I can see how to kittypets, it sounds like a tall tale. They don’t know about Starclan, after all.” She prodded one of his largest wounds, and he hissed instinctively at the pain. “That is also why leaders receive the title of -star. By gaining the power of Starclan, they become part of them.”

Fireheart nodded slowly. Now he understood why he had heard several cats fussing at the removal of Brokentail’s name; it had not just been a rejection of him as their leader, but also a rejection of his connection to Starclan and the lives they had given him. The thought of Brokentail’s lives suddenly brought him back to a moment several moons ago. “Wait. When Brokentail was hit by that Monster, I thought he was dead because he didn’t look like he was breathing. He was dead, wasn’t he? But he must have still had a life left, so Starclan brought him back.”

The healer’s eyes darkened as she chewed up a mix of several flowers, and she didn’t say anything for a long moment. At last, she applied the concoction to his wound, swiftly covering it with a pawful of cobwebs. “Yes, he still had a life left. Once that power is granted, it is not so easy to take it away.”

He wondered briefly what the old molly was thinking, but he knew better than to pry. Instead, he turned his thoughts to Bluestar, recovering from her murder in the nursery. “How many lives does Bluestar have left? She’s been leader for quite a while now, and Tigerclaw took two at the same time.”

Yellowfang didn’t answer, but the frown on her face told him all he needed to know. “It’s considered very rude to ask how many lives a leader has left. It’s something personal to them, which they only share with those close to them - their deputies, typically, and perhaps certain trusted family members as well.”

He bowed his head, slightly ashamed. “I’m sorry for asking.” He understood why leaders would not want that to be widely known - especially after what Tigerclaw had done.

She shrugged as she began applying more poultice to his other wounds. The herbs stung, but he knew that they would help him heal from the battle, so he did his best to stay still. “This is all new to you, so I won’t reprimand your curiosity.” Her gray paws firmly smoothed cobwebs against his wounds, pressing them tightly into his fur. The sticky substance felt strange and tight against his pelt. “Now, then. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and normally I would advise you to stay here for the night so I can watch you. But you’re young, and there are other cats that might need these nests more, so instead I’ll just warn you not to stretch too much and to come back and see me when the sun sets so I can switch your bandages.”

Fireheart nodded quickly in understanding. “Shall I go tell the others to come see you for healing?” He glanced at the body of Brokentail, his frame twisted in an unnatural position. “And maybe get the elders…?”

“No. I will bury him myself.” She turned away with a heavy sigh, concealing her face from his view. “As for healing, tell those that are still bleeding to come see me. We don’t have enough herbs to treat every little scratch.”

He dipped his head respectfully before turning to leave. His mind was swirling with everything that had happened - and perhaps a bit of blood loss - but at least his most pressing questions had been answered. By now, most of the crowd around Peppermask had disbanded, sulking off to various parts of the clearing to share tongues and absorb what had happened.

“Uh… everybody?” He announced, doing his best to draw their attention. Most cats turned to look at him, though none moved from their positions. “Yellowfang says that any cats that still have bleeding wounds need to come see her. Everyone else will have to wait until the more serious injuries are treated.”

He was grateful to see that most of the Clan had escaped the fighting relatively unscathed - a few cuts here and there, and many would certainly feel the impact of the blows they’d received for several days, but only a few had sustained serious wounds during the fight like he had. Only Sandstorm, Patchpelt and Speckleflight limped past him - the first line of fighters that had had to deal with the rogues until the other warriors had arrived.

His job done, Fireheart turned his attention to the nursery, where Lionheart and Whitestorm were dutifully sitting guard. He hesitated to approach the two giant toms, but he wouldn’t be able to rest until he made sure his sister and her kits had escaped the worst of the fighting. Plucking up his courage, he limped over to the two of them.

“Fireheart?” Lionheart’s scrutinizing stare turned on him, but he was thankful to see it was not an overly hostile one. “Did you need something from us?”

“No, I-” He swallowed back his fear, feeling momentarily overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Would Princess blame him for not warning her? He shook his head quickly. “I wanted to see my sister. I promise I won’t disturb Bluestar.”

The two warriors only needed to glance at each other before the golden warrior stepped aside with a slight bow. “They are waiting for you inside.” He informed Fireheart, taking a seat beside the entrance.

Fireheart dipped his head gratefully to Lionheart before squeezing his way inside. He didn’t take even a heartbeat to look for Bluestar, his eyes immediately going to where he knew his sister and her kits laid.

He was relieved to see that while she looked unnerved, her kits still squirmed happily at her side and she seemed unharmed. “Fireheart! Thank goodness you’re alive.” She purred, leaning up to touch noses with him as he approached.

He did so readily, welcoming the cold sensation of her nose on his. “I’m glad to see you safe as well. Did the rogues come in here at all?” He sniffed at the kits, who turned to look at him with bleary blue eyes.

“They did.” His heart plummeted at her admission. He’d been so worried about Bluestar, he’d forgotten to think of her at all during the battle. “But Goldenflower and Frostfur protected us! They had that rogue crying like a kit before they were through with him.” She shook her head, a sense of awe creeping over her face. “They’re so gentle with the kits, I didn’t think they had it in them! But they’re a force to be reckoned with, for sure.”

“When it comes to protecting kits, there is no cat I’d want by my side more than Frostfur.” He didn’t dare tell her about the white queen’s nickname - which was for the best, as he realized with a glance around the den that the two were sitting in their nest and sharing tongues. “Still, I’m glad you’re not injured.”

“I’m glad you’re safe too. The fighting out there sounded intense, and then…” She glanced at the nest beside her, where Bluestar was curled up. Her silver fur was dark and matted with blood, but she appeared to be fine - just resting, he imagined, given that he couldn’t see her eyes.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain more to you when things aren’t so hectic.” And when no one else was around to eavesdrop, he thought to himself. Even though the truth was out in the open now, there were still parts of the story he wouldn’t tell to cats he didn’t trust. “I’ll be back soon, alright? I just had to check in on you before I did anything else.”

“I appreciate it.” She purred softly, touching noses with him one last time before he turned to leave. He cast another glance in Bluestar’s direction, tempted to talk to her as well, but quickly turned away and left the nursery instead. Tough conversations could be had later, and the leader needed rest after what had happened. Besides, he’d promised Lionheart and Whitestorm he wouldn’t disturb her.

He gave a respectful nod to the two warriors as he exited, before setting his sights on where Peppermask was now sitting alone in the clearing, taking stock of her injuries. She looked up to see his approach, heaving a weary sigh as he sat down next to her. “I had hoped this day wouldn’t come.” She murmured to him sadly.

“As had I.” Fireheart replied, his heart aching as he did. Tigerclaw could have been a great leader, had he not stooped to murder for his ambitions. Now, as the sun had passed its zenith and was setting towards the treeline, he felt a profound sense of loss - not just because of the two deputies that Tigerclaw had killed, but also for the emptiness of camp now that two more of its warriors had departed. 

All around camp, cats were whispering to each other and staring across the clearing distrustfully. The mighty deputy had been a cornerstone of the Clan, a foundation of strength upon which all warriors had come to rely on. Now that he was gone, it felt as though Thunderclan had lost everything that made it a Clan: safety, trust, and honor.

What would become of the Clan now? It would be up to Bluestar and the next deputy to bring these broken cats back together. Looking around camp, he wasn’t sure which cat was strong enough, and wise enough, to stand beside her and help her pick up the pieces.

If only Bluestar had listened to him…

He shook his head quickly. What was done was done. The only thing to do now was to focus on what was in front of them. He stood to stretch, but his side painfully reminded him that he had to be gentle on it. “Peppermask, would you mind hunting for Princess for me today? I don’t know if I can catch much in this state.”

She glanced over him, a patchwork of fur and cobwebs. “Of course, Fireheart. Why don’t you go and get some rest? You’re not going to be doing anything like that, and it will be a while still until Bluestar has recovered enough to choose a deputy. I’ll wake you before the ceremony begins.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Will you be able to return to your camp now?” Fireheart asked amicably, flicking his ear towards where the Riverclan cats were disappearing into the reeds on the far bank.

The leader glanced over his shoulder briefly at the river. “I sent a patrol to scout the camp and see if it has re-emerged yet. The Clan is eager to get back to their nests and out of the wind.” He looked back at the Thunderclan cats, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think that means you’ll be able to take Sunningrocks back without a fight. This is still Riverclan territory.”

“Of course, just as I expect you know that any warrior that dares to enter the forest will find no leniency from Thunderclan. We’ll be returning to patrolling the border vigilantly.” Fireheart didn’t let his fur rise as he returned the thinly veiled threat calmly. It seemed as if any hopes for long term peace with Riverclan were unlikely, but he would still do his best to try and be cordial with the other Clans, even if they didn’t always feel the same. “What about Frogleap? One of your warriors told me he was missing. Has he returned now that the river has gone down?”

Crookedstar’s green eyes dropped to his paws. “He has not.” The giant tabby admitted with a heavy sigh. “Once we’ve returned to our camp, we’ll be sending out hunting parties to look for him.” 

“Thunderclan will keep an eye out for him from our side of the border. I’ll be sending a patrol to Fourtrees today to make sure we can get to the Gathering; if he’s there, we’ll let him know that Ivyskip and his kits are waiting safely for him.” After all, it was only a few short days until the full moon - they had to be prepared in case something had happened to their normal routes. “We’ll see you then, Crookedstar. May Starclan light your path.”

“May Starclan light your path.” The Riverclan leader returned to his Clan as they both stepped away from their sides of the border, the Thunderclan cats turning and plunging into the undergrowth. Fireheart let a sigh of relief escape him. Their task was finished; Riverclan had survived the flood, and now at last they could return to their normal duties without fearing getting caught.

“I’m so ready to get some sleep again!” Graystripe groaned as they padded along. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have been able to help, but I’ve been absolutely exhausted this past half-moon.”

“We’ve still got work to do today. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you’ve done in all of this.” Fireheart glared back at the dark gray tom, who shrank slightly under his wrathful gaze. “For now, let’s head for the log bridge and see if it’s still there, since we’re already out anyways.”

The three padded along the riverbank in silence, content to enjoy the warm newleaf air and the song of the birds in the branches above them. Things were finally looking up for a change; Tigerclaw was no longer threatening to destroy Thunderclan, Graystripe was no longer sneaking out every morning, day, and night to see Silverstream, and for the time being all the Clans seemed to be at peace.

Still, even as he tried to relax and enjoy the brightening sky and the forest around him, something nagged at the back of his mind. He couldn’t tell what it was; had he forgotten something? Was there something in the breeze? He glanced back at Peppermask, who was always the most astute when it came to danger, but she didn’t seem bothered at all. He sighed, trying to force himself to relax, but with every pawstep he took he could feel anxiety prickling in his paw pads.

“Fireheart?” He jumped at the sound of someone speaking, his eyes immediately darting to the source. Lionheart was padding towards him from the forest, accompanied by his apprentice, Thornpaw. “What are you doing out here so early?”

The young deputy forced himself to take a deep breath. It was fine; he had reason to be out here with Graystripe and Peppermask. “I could ask you the same thing.” He mewed with his best teasing grin, before glancing back at the two gray tabby siblings behind him. “I wanted to get up before daybreak and check the river, since it seems to be going down, see if it’s safe to patrol regularly again. Once we reach the bridge, we’ll be making sure it’s safe for a Gathering patrol to cross.”

He couldn’t read the giant golden warrior’s gaze, but he dipped his head smoothly in acknowledgement nonetheless. “It’s good to see you taking such care in your duties. That’s the kind of deputy the Clan needs.” He glanced at Thornpaw behind him, who was glowering into the trees. “As for us, I was taking Thornpaw out to hunt around the Owltree. Land prey is scarce around here due to the owl and the flood, so it’s a good place to practice tree-hunting.”

A logical explanation, one Fireheart remembered from when he had been an apprentice with Tinyfrost. The trees around here were stout but solid, good for dashing from branch to branch without fearing a bone-breaking fall. “Makes sense. I expect to see some birds and squirrels on the freshkill pile by sunhigh.” He directed the last part to Thornpaw, but the golden tabby apprentice either hadn’t heard him or didn’t deign to give him a response.

For a moment, he thought about pushing the issue, but he could see from Lionheart’s narrow gaze that he had already caught onto the apprentice’s dismissive attitude and would deal with it himself. There was no need for the deputy to step on the mentor’s paws, and so he turned away with a flick of his tail to the two gray warriors behind him. “Come on, then. Let’s see if we can’t also get a little bit of hunting in before sunhigh.”

They continued in silence past the Owltree, where the namesake bird was likely slumbering now that the sun had risen, and onwards into the forest beyond. He kept his paws light as they approached the tree bridge crossing to the Gathering, but he could already feel his heart begin to beat heavily in his chest as they approached. What if the log had been swept away in the floods? Would the Clan accept crossing by the way of the Twoleg bridge? He wasn’t sure, and-

He blinked in surprise as they walked out of the bushes and into the sunlight. The tree bridge was still there; but now, it was no longer alone. It seemed that during the floods, several large branches had swept into it and locked against its still-solid roots system, tangling into a mass of wood that seemed lodged against the muddy banks.

“Those branches might actually make the bridge more stable.” Peppermask observed as she approached it, sniffing curiously. “But this thicket’s probably going to be hard for the elders to get through. We should see about getting some of the warriors to prune it before the Gathering, so it’s easier to cross.”

“Good thinking.” Fireheart purred as he walked up to it. She was right, as always; Though he was certain he could maneuver through the tangled twigs, the elders weren’t nearly as flexible anymore. “I’ll see about sending a patrol of cats to take care of it after sunhigh. It sounds like a project the elders might like to be involved in, and I’m sure the mentors wouldn’t mind giving their apprentices some busywork while they take the evening off.”

He flicked his tail for them to start heading back. As they entered the forest, the silver tabby molly padded up beside him, briefly resting her tail on his flank as they walked. “You’re getting better at being a deputy, you know.” She purred quietly to him, softly enough so Graystripe wouldn’t overhear.

He refrained from scowling at her. He wished he didn’t have to be a deputy at all; though Bluestar was beginning to recover from whatever had plagued her, she was still too weak to help him with leading the Clan. Still, he didn’t dare say that out loud to her; she already knew his feelings on the subject. “Some days, it doesn’t feel like it.” He responded to her, equally quiet.

“The Clan is demanding, especially after… what happened.” She didn’t need to say it out loud; even though a moon had already passed, the incident was still fresh in everyone’s minds. “But newleaf is here, and prey is running well. Everything will be better soon, you’ll see.”