#talonslock

She trailed off for a moment, a worried look in her eyes. “After Whitestorm?” Fireheart prompted, but she didn’t respond. He recognized that look: the same one she often had when speaking about Snowstorm, or her kits. It was her being haunted by the family she had lost; and, as he thought about it, he realized he was fairly certain what she was thinking of. “Are you talking about the leafbare before I joined? He told me that he’d almost died from greencough.”

Bluestar sighed deeply and nodded in response. “Yes. Spottedleaf told me to prepare his vigil, for he would only recover from the grace of Starclan. Through Starclan’s grace, he did recover, although…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but Fireheart could guess at the ending - although many didn’t. “You know how lonely it is in the Clan without any family, Fireheart. It wasn’t so long ago that I faced the same. It’s hard to let go of the past, sometimes.”

Fireheart wasn’t sure he fully understood, but he dipped his head to her nonetheless. “But now he’s having kits. Surely that’s reason enough to move on?”

“Yes.” Bluestar agreed readily to her deputy, a smile flickering over her lips. “Yes, it is. I know he has always wanted kits of his own. And now they are here, and I hope they are everything he imagined them to be and more.” Pain still showed in her eyes - remembering her own kits, perhaps, or still lingering on how she’d almost lost her nephew - but she turned to Fireheart with perked ears, ignoring her feelings. “Your own nephews and nieces are quite lovely. Little Cloudkit especially - I’ve never felt kitten teeth so sharp!”

Fireheart purred at the compliment from his leader, remembering how Sootkit and Rainkit had knocked her over. “Yes, I’m glad they’re here in Thunderclan. I can’t wait to see their apprentice ceremonies - though they can hardly wait either!” He glanced fondly at the camp entrance, imagining them romping around in a field of flowers with reckless abandon. “They’re all so excited to have new playmates, though they don’t seem to fully understand how small newborns are.”

“It’s a hard thing for a kit to comprehend.” Bluestar mewed in understanding. “For much of their life, they’re the smallest cats around! It’s hard to imagine anything being smaller.” She sighed and wistfully looked off at the nursery, clearly remembering some time long past. “I didn’t get to see a newborn kit until Robinwing had her litter, when I was already a warrior. I was shocked to see a cat small enough to fit in my paws!”

Fireheart nodded, remembering how small Lynxkit had been. She was essentially the same size as Sootkit and Rainkit now, with Sorrelkit having become the new runt. The thought of her becoming even the three moon old kit she was now amazed him. “I know what you mean. They’re basically the size of a mou-”

“FIREHEART!”

The deputy sat up with a bolt of panic as he heard his name howled loud enough to be heard from Fourtrees. Princess had just clawed her way through the bramble entrance, racing towards him with terrified puffed fur. “Fireheart, Cloudkit’s gone missing!” She cried, her green eyes already full of tears.

For a moment, Fireheart felt frozen with fear. Cloudkit had gone missing? “What happened?” He finally managed to stammer out, feeling the heat of the entire Clan watching him as he swallowed hard.

“I- I don’t-” She took a huge gulping breath, her whole body trembling as she looked up at her brother. “They were chasing this - this butterfly, in the flowers. It was bright, I didn’t see anyone, everything was okay. Peppermask and I smiled at each other - it was just a couple of heartbeats! We were just - we were happy, everything was nice, and-” Princess’ white paws were kneading in and out of the dirt below her in an attempt to calm herself. “I swear, Fireheart, he just vanished!”

“Calm down.” Fireheart was grateful to hear Bluestar speak up beside him. “What about the other kits and Peppermask? Are they okay?”

Princess stared at the leader as though she had suddenly turned purple. “I- I don’t-” She took another deep shuddering breath, clearly on the verge of hyperventilating. “Peppermask told me to come tell you, Fireheart. She said she’d tell them a story to keep them calm and in one place.”

Why in Starclan’s name would Peppermask tell Princess to do that? The thought echoed in his mind for too long, as Bluestar and Princess both stared at him. What did they want from him? He didn’t know how to find a kit! He was just-

Right, he was deputy. He was supposed to take care of this. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what Quickflash would do in this situation. Maybe he could order a patrol? He hesitated at the thought. Was that an abuse of his power, though? After all, it was one kit - maybe he should just go and help her find Cloudkit. What would the Clan think if they had to search all over the forest for a kittypet kit?

No, he thought to himself after a heartbeat, that was a flea-brained thought. Kits were the most important part of the Clan! The warrior code itself said that no kit could be neglected, no matter their origin. Whether Cloudkit’s parents were kittypet or not didn’t matter. The Clan would expect to be sent out to find a lost kit. Their territory was safe, generally, but there was always a chance that something had snuck past one of their borders. Not to mention the owl, or hawks, any of which could pick off an unsuspecting kit.

“Speckleflight.” Fireheart stepped forward and spoke now, still keenly aware that nearly all of the Clan’s eyes were on him. The elder blinked at him in surprise. “Take Rosetail and go with Princess to help Peppermask keep the other kits calm. The last thing we need is two missing kits.”

The pale golden queen nodded, glancing around to see Rosetail already standing up. Fireheart watched as Speckleflight came up alongside Princess, mewing something softly to her as the two older tortoiseshells led her out of camp. The older queens, he figured, would be able to help calm Princess in addition to telling the kits all sorts of fun stories for however long it took to find Cloudkit.

He surveyed camp, assessing which cats were best to go out looking for a kit. “We’ll form three patrols, each taking a different direction from the meadow. I want Cloudkit found as quickly and quietly as possible.” There was no dissent at his order, cats beginning to sit up and wait to be called. “Mousefur, you’ll take Mistspring and Dustleap and head towards the Riverclan border. Sandstorm, you’ll take Willowbranch and Graystripe towards the Shadowclan border. Dappleshine, you and Tinyfrost will be with me heading towards Tallpines. Longtail, Cinderspark, Bluestar, and the apprentices will stay behind and guard camp.”

Across camp, Cinderspark turned away, her tail low in disappointment. Fireheart understood why she was disappointed that she hadn’t been picked - likely wondering if he hadn’t chosen her because once again, he didn’t trust her. He briefly wished he could reassure her, to tell her that she had been given the most important mission of all. He doubted that this was a ploy to get the Clan out of camp, but he couldn’t help but remember what had happened the last time kits had gone missing. Brokentail was dead, but his rogues were still out there - and now, more than ever, they were probably seeking revenge against Thunderclan.

Fireheart wanted this to be nothing more than Cloudkit accidentally running off, but he had to prepare for the worst.

“Let’s go!” He barked, lashing his tail once for the warriors to follow him before turning and leaving camp. He didn’t need to look to know they were following him - he could hear the march of many pawsteps and the rustling of brambles through the tunnel behind him. Fireheart instead kept his eyes on the trail again - following the thick fear-scent of his sister, which he had to focus on to keep from overwhelming him.

The meadow wasn’t far from camp - about as far away as the training hollow was, but on the other side of the ravine. There, Speckleflight was cooing softly at his niblings sitting amongst pale blue flowers, likely telling them a story about times long ago. Rosetail was sitting off to the side, doing her best to console Princess and Peppermask alike. The kits were occasionally glancing at their mama, clearly picking up on her fear, but politely listening to Speckleflight nonetheless.

He could see all four of them look eagerly towards him as the three patrols entered the meadow, but he had no time to stop and reassure them. He had to trust that the elders, Princess, and Peppermask would be enough eyes on his remaining niblings to keep them safe. Instead, with a swift nod shared between the patrols, they all turned and raced off towards their assigned directions.

“Dappleshine, you should take the lead. You’re the best hunter out of all of us.” Fireheart mewed, slowing down slightly to allow the tortoiseshell to do just that. There was no time for bragging, or for modesty: while Tinyfrost and Fireheart were both good hunters, it was well known within the Clan that Dappleshine had the sharpest nose and had taught two of the other great hunters in the Clan. 

She slipped forward without complaint at the opening, keeping her nose raised as she drew air over her tongue to try and find a scent. Silently, Fireheart motioned for Tinyfrost to flank her on her other side, the three spreading out so that they could cover as much ground as possible without losing sight of each other in the forest undergrowth.

The ginger deputy tried to keep himself calm, taking deep breaths of the scents of the wild to keep his heart from racing. As scared as he was for his nephew, out in the forest on his own, allowing his fear to overtake him would only smother the other warriors’ attempts to scent out Cloudkit. 

The forest was full of dangers - even things that would only bother a fully grown warrior could be deadly for a young kit. What if Cloudkit fell into a hole and couldn’t get back out? If he strayed out towards the Twolegplace, he would run into dogs - even the smallest of which would be impossible for a kit to handle on his own. And if he went towards the Owltree, and the owl was in the mood for a midday snack-

No, Fireheart couldn’t allow himself to imagine such horrors, forcing himself to take another couple of deep breaths as he continued flanking Dappleshine. For all he knew, one of the other patrols had found his nephew already. Maybe Cloudkit was already safe and sound, listening to Speckleflight tell a mighty tale about Lynxstar of Leopardclan and how she had driven out the fearsome Stonescales from the river. He could have even found his way back to the meadow on his own, having gotten bored of playing with himself.

There was no reason to-

“I smell him!” Fireheart’s ears perked forward as he heard Dappleshine’s call. Immediately, the other two warriors converged on her, finding her sniffing at a fallen log. “He climbed on top of this.” She explained as they both scented at the bark. Fireheart didn’t know whether to be thankful they had finally caught a trail, or furious that his nephew had gone so far into the forest on his own. They were almost at Tallpines! What had Cloudkit been thinking? 

“Fireheart.” The deputy looked up at the sound of his old mentor’s quiet voice, seeing Tinyfrost sniffing at the air rather than the log. “Do you smell that?”

Both Fireheart and Dappleshine scented at the air, trying to discern what Tinyfrost was hinting at. It took Fireheart several heartbeats, but as soon as he did, his face wrinkled in disgust. “That’s the foulest smelling dog I’ve ever scented.” He growled disdainfully, before fear seized his heart. It was a recent scent. “You don’t think-”

“It’s not dog. It’s badger.” Dappleshine snarled out, pacing forward as her hackles began to rise. “That’s close. Somewhere in our territory, I think.”

Fireheart didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen a badger before - only heard tales about them swapped between the warriors. They were huge, lumbering beasts, big enough that a cat the size of Lionheart could ride on their backs, with claws as long as whiskers. Mistspring had mentioned driving one off once, in a combined effort between Windclan and Thunderclan. Three warriors couldn’t be enough to chase one out of their territory!

But Cloudkit was nearby. They couldn’t leave, not without finding his nephew. What if the badger found him? He was a white kit, after all, standing out amongst the greens and browns of the forest. He hadn’t had any battle training - he’d be easy prey -

The two other warriors were staring at him. Once again, Fireheart could feel bile rising in his throat. He was deputy - he had to make a decision. But what if Cloudkit died because of him? How could he go back to Princess and tell her that her kit could have lived, if he’d just made the right-

“We find the badger first.” Tinyfrost cut through his thoughts with the same quiet, icy tone he always had. “If the kit’s smart, he’ll have scented it and climbed a tree to wait for us. If he’s not, then we better get to it before it gets to him.” With that ominous note, Tinyfrost turned and began leading the way through the forest, towards the edge of Tallpines. 

There was no need to taste the air now - the badger’s scent was thick and musty, like the marshes of Shadowclan had been when Fireheart had gone with Graystripe to defeat Brokentail and his rogues. It took everything in him not to completely block out the pungent odor - and he could tell that the other two warriors with him were feeling just the same.

“Help me!”

The voice was faint, but all three cats knew exactly who it was as it floated through the trees. As one, the three bounded forward, racing through the forest towards Cloudkit’s desperate cries. “Somebody! Help! Don’t let it get me!” They got louder and louder, until-

The three burst through the foliage into a large stony clearing sparsely covered by dry tufts of grass. On the far end was a small cliff, where a huge gray figure was swiping furiously at a crack in the bottom. Though he couldn’t see inside, Fireheart already knew what the badger was swiping at- Cloudkit.

“Tinyfrost, take its back! I’ll distract it from the front. Dappleshine, get Cloudkit out when it’s safe!” Fireheart was already barking out the orders as he dived forward, yowling a bitter battle cry as he lashed out at one of the badger’s front paws. It immediately turned towards him with baleful, beady eyes, returning his battle cry with a furious screech that rang through the air. Fireheart ducked as it swiped a large, clumsy paw at him, its claws easily thrice the length of his own. Fear and determination surged through his veins in equal measure; fear that this fight would be his last, and determination not to let it get to Cloudkit at any cost.

He swiped at its disgustingly large muzzle, his claws scoring through the coarse black and white fur with surprising ease. The badger was large, yes, but slow; slower than Tigerclaw had been, even. It let out another shrill scream as blood welled up from where his claws had been, lunging towards him with its massive bulk.

Fireheart took three quick steps back, luring the beast away from his nibling. It pounced towards him again, claws scoring into the earth once more as he took another pair of quick back steps. Before he could move further, however, a black shadow materialized on top of the badger: heartbeats later, it howled in furious pain as Tinyfrost dug into its thick gray fur with his claws and began biting for whatever he could reach.

The badger reared back, clearly intending to force its new attacker off, but before it could Fireheart had leaped forward to his former mentor’s aid, claws tearing away the tawny fur of its underbelly. He ducked back as the badger slashed wildly out with its giant claws, screeching furiously as it realized it was outnumbered.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Dappleshine race by with a distinctly white blur, and he immediately felt a wave of relief. Cloudkit was safe, which meant-

Fireheart yowled in shock as pain streaked through one side. He’d let himself be distracted for mere heartbeats - but heartbeats were long enough for the brutish creature, lunging forward to tear into his shoulder with its fangs. His first instinct was to tear away from it, but he forced himself to instead lean into the bite and use the opportunity to rake his claws down its neck. The badger immediately released him, shaking both one way and then the other as attacks came in from what surely felt like all sides.

Even as the pain filled his thoughts, Fireheart forced himself not to dwell on it, instead focusing on the beast in front of him. It was lashing out blindly now, clearly trying to get all the attacks to stop. “Tinyfrost! Let it go!” He called out to the small black tom.

Tinyfrost complied, sinking his fangs into its ear one last time before loosening his claws and letting the badger’s momentum throw him off to one side. It flailed out for another couple of heartbeats as the two warriors regrouped together, its tiny eyes flashing with panic as the attacks stopped as quickly as they had come. 

“Get out!” Tinyfrost snarled, advancing on the creature with his claws prepared for more attacks. Fireheart quickly copied him, advancing on the badger with his fur puffed out as far as he could get it. As soon as they did, the badger turned quickly away from them towards the open forest beyond Tallpines. As soon as it saw a clear opening, it bolted, bounding away on its stubby legs into the woods beyond their border.

The two toms stood side by side as they watched it race off, their hearts still pounding from the thrill of the fight. Fireheart’s side began to sting, a sign that he would surely be visiting the healers shortly, but he once again pushed it away to turn and look for his nibling. “Dappleshine? Cloudkit? Are you alright?” He called softly, a tiny bolt of anxiety spiking through him. They had to be safe, right? There was no way they could have gotten hurt while he was fighting-

He sighed in relief as Dappleshine waddled into the clearing, carrying Cloudkit by his scruff. He was a bit too big for it now, dragging in the dirt between her legs, but the older queen didn’t seem to notice as she came to stand in front of Fireheart and Tinyfrost. She released his nephew gracelessly, and he fell into the dirt below with a thin wail.

“What in Starclan’s name were you doing out here?” Fireheart snarled at the little white kit, his tail lashing in anger now that the danger had passed. “You’ve got your mother worried sick, and the whole Clan tearing up the forest looking for you! Didn’t your mother tell you not to wander off?”

There was genuine fear in Cloudkit’s bold blue eyes, but as Fireheart lectured him he could see that same stubborn defiance that his nephew normally had beginning to leak back in. “I didn’t wander off.” He refuted, his chin sticking up into the air as he stared down his uncle.

“Didn’t wander off?” Fireheart scoffed, his anger only rising at his nephew’s audacity. “This hardly looks like the meadow where you’re supposed to be playing with your siblings, does it? Not to mention you’re only treelengths from the border, with no other cat to be seen, hiding from a badger - how exactly do you expect me to believe you didn’t wander off?”

“I didn’t!” Cloudkit repeated, stomping one tiny white paw. “I followed a warrior out here!”

Fireheart could hear noises of confusion from the other two cats, but he didn’t stop to let it bother him. “And how, exactly, did you follow a warrior out here when all of them were back in camp?” He spat, lashing his tail once more in emphasis. “Which warrior was this? Graystripe? Mistspring? Maybe Lionheart?”

Cloudkit looked confused at all the names. “I- I don’t- he didn’t say what his name was.” He mewed plaintively, his eyebrows furrowing as if in brief confusion. “But he said he had found something super cool to show me, so I followed him, but then he was gone and I got lost and then- then that thing-”

“And I suppose you expect me to believe this imaginary warrior grew wings and flew, right in front of your eyes.” Fireheart snapped, losing any patience he might have had left for his nephew. “Making up some warrior that doesn’t exist isn’t going to get you out of trouble, Cloudkit. But I’ll let your mother decide your punishment.”

Cloudkit immediately started complaining, furiously reasserting that he definitely had seen a real warrior that smelled of Thunderclan and everything, but Fireheart tuned him out and turned to the other two warriors. “Dappleshine, why don’t you go find Sandstorm’s patrol near the Riverclan border and let them know we’ve found him. Tinyfrost, you do the same for Mousefur’s patrol near Shadowclan. I’ll take this little troublemaker back to his mother.”

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.

He had only barely entered before nearly running into another cat. “Oh!” He gasped in surprise, the squirrel tails falling from his mouth as he backpedaled. “I’m sorry, I-” His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the nursery to see Lionheart’s golden pelt, nearly brown in the darkness, and two wide green eyes that crinkled as they caught his gaze.

“No need to apologize, Fireheart.” The large warrior purred, shifting to make room for his deputy to pass by. “I should be the one apologizing, taking up all the space in here like that! I forgot you’d be coming by soon with something for your sister and her kits.” He eyed the squirrels where they had fallen approvingly. “And quite a plump something, at that. It bodes well for us if the squirrels are already recovered from their leafbare hibernations.”

“The prey is certainly thriving.” Fireheart agreed readily, picking the squirrels back up and carrying them across the nursery to where his sister’s nest was. To his surprise, it was empty except for Princess. He carefully laid out one of the squirrels next to her, even as his head tilted in confusion. “Where are the kits?” He questioned softly.

“Watching Yellowfang do her work.” She replied, flicking her tail over to Frostfur’s nest. Sure enough, his niblings were crowded around the edge of the white queen’s nest, their eyes huge as they watched the dark gray healer carefully nose over each of the three little lumps of fur at her belly. Whitestorm and Lionheart sat beside her, their tails wound together tightly as Whitestorm pawed anxiously at the nursery’s soft ground. “I told them they could watch as long as they didn’t make a sound or move a whisker. Yellowfang and Dewshine are such good healers; I want them to have an appreciation for the work they do keeping kits healthy.”

“It surely wouldn’t hurt.” Fireheart agreed, watching his niblings as they sat whisker-still. He’d never seen them so enraptured before, sitting so silently that even a whisker drop would be louder than them. “Who knows, perhaps one of them will be Dewshine’s apprentice in a couple of seasons!”

“Bah, she’s too young for an apprentice.” His ear flicked as Yellowfang grumbled, briefly shooting her copper gaze in his direction before returning back to her examination. “Alright, you five - why don’t you go eat that tasty squirrel instead of trying to be little stones, hmm? If you sit like that for too much longer, you’ll end up petrifying and turning into rocks.”

They stared at her with wide eyes. “Does that really happen?” Sootkit asked, his golden eyes glittering with worry in the thin nursery light.

She huffed in his direction. “Are you questioning me?” She growled, looking up at him with a low glare.

The dark gray kit jolted in shock. “Of course not!” He squeaked, backpedalling over Rainkit to dart towards Princess before Yellowfang could threaten them further, his siblings quickly following him. Fireheart looked on, his whiskers twitching in amusement. No doubt they’d realize Yellowfang was joking sooner or later - but it didn’t hurt them to have a healthy fear of her for now, especially when they seemed to fear little else.

“Thank you for the food, Unka Fireheart.” His ears perked as Rainkit bowed his head to the young deputy before gingerly tearing into the squirrel’s pelt. His words were quickly followed by a chorus of ‘Thank you!’s from the other kits before they hungrily dug in.

“Well, you’re most certainly welcome.” He purred in response, pleasantly surprised by the sudden show of gratitude from his nephew. “Teaching them manners now, are we?” He asked his sister, glancing up at her with a lopsided smile.

“Speckleflight did.” Princess explained, watching the kits feast with her own small smile. “She’s got them all wrapped up around her paw after that day in the meadow, even Cloudkit. She told them this morning that Bluestar only lets polite apprentices with good manners become warriors, and they spent all day begging her and the other elders for manners lessons.”

“Ith that true, Unka?” Cloudkit asked, sitting up and staring at Fireheart with wide blue eyes.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude.” Fireheart admonished, his nephew’s eyes immediately widening before he mumbled an apology. “Yes, it’s true. Rude apprentices don’t get to become warriors until their mentor teaches them some manners, and warriors that lose their manners have to sleep in the apprentices’ den until they remember them again. That’s what happened to Graystripe, you know.”

“That’s why Graystripe sleeps in the apprentices’ den!?” Lynxkit squeaked in shock, her pale green eyes nearly the size of an owl’s. “Smallear said it was because he was so bad at hunting he only brought back pinecones and dead leaves, but One-eye smacked him and called him a name Rosetail said we weren’t allowed to repeat.”

Fireheart did his best to refrain from snickering at that. He could only imagine what One-eye had called her brother, given the variety he had heard from her while he was on elder duty. “Well, you should listen to Rosetail on that part, but Smallear was probably just making fun of Graystripe. He’s not the best hunter in the Clan, not like Dappleshine or Mousefur - or yours truly.” He winked at the kits, who were all staring at him with adoring eyes. “But enough of that. Kits need to eat lots of food to become big and strong warriors, you know. Besides, I have to take this squirrel to Frostfur.”

He waved goodbye to the kits and Princess with his tail as he picked up the remaining squirrel and dragged it over to Frostfur’s nest, where Yellowfang had just finished inspecting a mottled grey, cream and white kit that looked a bit like Sorrelkit. “Her lungs are clear, too. All three look healthy, no reason to worry.” She reported gruffly to Lionheart and Whitestorm. “Still, don’t hesitate to ask me or Dewshine if you’re worried about them, especially when they’re still this small. I’d rather fuss over them for no reason than miss an early case of kittencough.”

The two toms glanced at each other and nodded agreement. “Thank you, Yellowfang.” Lionheart mewed, blinking his green eyes gratefully at her. “While you’re here, we’d hoped that you might stay for naming the kits.”

The old healer perked her ears in surprise. “Well, I suppose I could stay a little bit longer.” She responded gruffly, stepping off to the side to allow Lionheart and Whitestorm to get closer to their kits. “I’m sure you’ve chosen wonderful names for them.”

Whitestorm and Lionheart shared another glance. “Actually…” Whitestorm rumbled now, his tail wrapping tighter around Lionheart’s, “We were wondering if you would like to name them.”

“Wha- me?” Yellowfang’s half-lidded copper eyes widened in shock. “But- I-” She babbled, her normally thorn-sharp and quick-witted tongue completely caught in the surprise that Whitestorm had sprung on her.

The mighty white warrior ducked his head for a few heartbeats. “I… I had a grand speech planned.” Whitestorm admitted readily. “But I… the most important part is that you, Yellowfang, take such good care of the kits - dozens of kits, throughout your lifetime - even knowing you’ll never be able to have any of your own. And I… you mean so much to me, and- and the Clan, that it feels unfair you’ll never be able to have the honor of naming your own kits.” He raised his head to blink slowly at her with his gentle golden eyes. “And so we would like you to have the honor of naming ours.”

Fireheart watched Yellowfang’s jaw work, trying to figure out the words to respond to her grandson - a secret that only half of those in the nursery knew. “I’ve long made my peace with my position in the Clan.” She responded at last. “They’re your kits. I can’t take the joy of naming them from you - the both of you.”

“We’ll have more.” Lionheart purred in response. “But you, Yellowfang - we won’t have you forever. Your knowledge and your wisdom saved our daughters when they were too small to live - we want to honor that, by letting you name them.”

The old healer shook her head once more. “I just- I can’t, I-”

“Oh, for all the stars above!” The four of them jumped as Frostfur snarled, her white tail lashing once against the moss of her nest. “Whitestorm and Lionheart have been talking about this since even before the kits were born - you’re not going to change their minds now. Quit dancing around each other already and just get on with it.”

An awkward silence stretched out through the nursery as all the cats sitting there stared at each other. Just as Fireheart was about to politely excuse himself, Yellowfang shuffled a bit closer to the nest at the three kits suckling at Frostfur’s belly. Her paw hovered over the mottled calico mollyborn she had just been inspecting. “... Dovekit.” The healer declared, with the same gravity she might normally reserve for declaring whether a cat would live or die. “May she always be full of life and spirits.”

Yellowfang’s words tickled at the back of Fireheart’s mind. For a heartbeat, he was back in the foxhole prison with her and Brokentail, the old healer staring down at her son just as she was looking at her great-granddaughter now. I named the first one Hopekit, after the hope I had that the rest would live. 

Whitestorm beamed with pride behind her. “Dovekit - what a beautiful name for a beautiful little molly.” He announced to the nursery as a whole, his chest puffing up even more from joy as he looked fondly to his mate beside him.

Lionheart nodded in approval himself. “It fits her perfectly. I couldn’t have chosen a better name myself.” He rumbled with satisfaction, his tail twining even tighter with Whitestorm’s as his paws began to knead at the ground happily.

Fireheart could see a soft smile light upon Yellowfang’s lips, and with a deep breath she moved to the next kit - a light ginger tabby. “Finchkit.” She decided after a few heartbeats. “May her heart shine as brightly as her pelt and the stars on the Startrail.”

I named the second Wishkit, after the wish I had that they would forgive me in Starclan for breaking the code. Fireheart recalled Yellowfang saying, in the dim light of the foxhole prison. He watched her now, surrounded by her family - her grandson, his mate, and her great-grandkits. He didn’t know if Starclan had taken her daughters to punish her, or made Brokentail her son in some sort of curse. In this moment, Brokentail was dead, having never found any true measure of the power he had so desperately sought. Instead it was Yellowfang, purring and surrounded by the family she had desired for so long - and because of that Fireheart knew, no matter what Starclan had originally felt, they had forgiven her now.

Then her paw hovered over the last kit - a black and white tomborn. Her purring abruptly stopped as the smile faded from her face. The third… He knew immediately that she was picturing her son, who had once only been the size of the kit before her. Brokentail hadn’t always been the tyrant of Shadowclan that terrorized every cat in the forest - he had once been small, and soft, and sweet, suckling at the side of a queen without any thoughts on the world around him. Once, so very long ago…

Yellowfang stared at the kit under her paw, her eyes wide and fearful. He could only imagine the terror in her heart - the fear that this kit would someday turn out like his grandfather. That Starclan would step in and take this momentary bit of happiness from her, punish her once more for so foolishly believing she could have a chance at peace.

Fireheart glanced warily at Whitestorm, silently pleading with the tom to intervene. As soon as their gazes met, the great warrior stepped forward to press into his grandmother’s side. “What about Swiftkit?” He mewed softly next to her. “He looks just like a young swift bird, after all. Then he’ll match his sisters’ names as well.”

“Swiftkit.” Yellowfang repeated, her shoulders sagging in relief as Whitestorm spoke next to her. “Yes, Swiftkit is a lovely name for him. May he always strike as fast as lightning and as strong as thunder.”

Lionheart stepped up next to his mate and pressed into him, his purr loud enough to make the whole den vibrate. “Dovekit, Finchkit, and Swiftkit. Our beautiful children, whose only limit will be the sky above them.” The golden warrior announced, his whole pelt fluffing up slightly in excitement.

“I can’t wait to see them soar to great heights in Thunderclan, just as their parents have.” Fireheart spoke up now, every cat turning to look at him as he got to his paws. “I should be going, though. Dewshine wanted to make sure that my badger bite was healing well after I got back from patrol.” He shot a dirty glare towards where Cloudkit was sitting, and he could see his little white nephew quickly sink beneath the pelts of his siblings in shame.

“Yes, it would hardly do for our deputy to be laid up with infection in the middle of newleaf, would it?” Yellowfang waved him away with a dismissive paw, even as her voice cracked with emotion as she gazed down at her great-grandkits. “Go on now. I’m sure Princess can send one of her kits to fetch you if we need something.”

Fireheart nodded at the obvious dismissal. “Congratulations once more on your kits.” He meowed to Lionheart and Whitestorm as he passed, the two giant warriors only able to beam with joy in his direction before looking back to their kits, softly nestling against each other.

He stepped out of the nursery, stretching as the sunlight warmed his fur. Early greenleaf was the best possible season, he imagined. It hadn’t yet gotten so hot that every cat was looking for shade to cool off in, but it was still warm enough that all one’s aches and pains seemed to disappear. He shook out his pelt and looked to the entrance, where Quickflash was waiting for him with Ravenspirit. Yes, this was going to be an enjoyable patrol-

“FIREHEART!” 

Princess? Fireheart turned and bolted back into the nursery, his heart pounding in his ears. “Princess! What’s wrong?” He called out as his eyes got used to the dim light inside.

She didn’t answer.

He watched in horror as a long adder emerged from behind her, rising higher and higher until it was nearly as tall as the nursery ceiling. Beneath it was his sister, her green eyes glassy and her tongue lolling out as she stared emptily into the sky. “Princess!” He howled in anguish, looking back up at the adder that stared at him with glittering amber eyes.  

“I see tasty little morsels waiting here for me.” The snake leaned over his sister’s body as Fireheart stood there, frozen to the spot. Why couldn’t he move? His niblings were in danger! “So difficult to choose, eh, Fireheart?”

His heart hammered against his ribs as he stared at the adder, his shock giving way to numb confusion. “Please, leave them alone.” He begged, swallowing hard. “They’re just little kits. They don’t deserve this.”

The snake only stared at him with those same sinister amber eyes. “Fireheart.”

He didn’t know what to do - he was frozen to the spot. “Please, anything, I’ll do anything.” He mewed softly. And he would - he would do anything to protect his niblings. He’d do anything to protect his family, his Clan-

“FIREHEART.”

The ginger tom jolted awake, smacking into someone hovering over him as he did so. The two reeled away from each other, Fireheart reaching up to nurse his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. In front of him was Dewpaw, who was favoring her chin as she watched him with her shining mismatched eyes. “Dewpaw?” He whispered in confusion.

At his soft question, the silver healer stood and left, only flicking her tail for him to follow as she did so. He looked around himself in confusion. He was in the warriors’ den, in his comfortable nest. Dappleshine shifted slightly next to him, before turning over and finding herself a newer, comfier position. Around him were the softly slumbering forms of about a dozen warriors - everyone except Graystripe, who was out on guard duty.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and stumbled out after Dewpaw, everything starting to come back to him. It had just been a dream - a terrible dream, but still a dream. After all, it wasn’t like there was such a thing as talking snakes, right? He did his best to shake away the last remnants of sleep as he exited the warriors’ den, looking around to see where Dewpaw had gone off to.

She was waiting for him outside the healer’s den. As soon as she caught sight of him, she once again motioned for him to follow her before slipping inside. He did so, even as his tail twitched irritably. It wasn’t as if he refused to be woken up, but couldn’t she at least mew hello or something?

Still, he followed after her, squeezing through the crack in the ravine wall to enter the moonlit cave. Dewpaw was pacing back and forth in the small interior, while Yellowfang was sitting off to the side, cleaning herself. Both of their gazes turned to him as he arrived. “There you are.” The old healer mewed grumpily as she abandoned her washing.

“Here I am.” Fireheart growled back irritably. “What’s so important that you had to wake me up for it? I don’t see any patients in here, so it can’t be that someone’s gotten sick.” Even as he said it, his heart leaped into his throat. What if his dream had been a sign? Maybe Princess was in danger - maybe his niblings were in danger -

“We went to the Moonstone tonight.” Dewpaw explained, her voice hushed to keep it from echoing in the small cave. He glanced up to see the moon just peeking through the hole in the ceiling - a half moon, of course, signaling the meeting of the healers’ circle. “Yellowfang decided that I’ve earned my full name - Dewshine.”

“That’s wonderful, Dewshine!” Even though he was annoyed by getting woken up, Fireheart still managed a delighted purr at her announcement. It had been a long time coming, especially now that she had been an apprentice for an entire season-cycle. “That… that is good news, right?” He wondered out loud, noticing that neither of the healers matched his mood.

“It is.” The newly named Dewshine confirmed, to his relief. “A new healer is a big deal in the Clans, since they’re very rare. When a healer gets their name, the whole Clan celebrates. They’re decorated with whatever herbs they choose, so every cat knows they’ve gotten their name, and it’s expected that cats will bring them a present to honor them.”

“A present?” Fireheart stared at her, anxiety suddenly rising in his throat. He hadn’t known any of this. What sort of present was a Clan cat supposed to bring a healer?

The silver tabby purred, her whiskers twitching in amusement at his voice. “Usually something simple, like their favorite prey or a herb they know that’s useful. Cats that are closer to the new healer try to give more meaningful gifts, though…” She giggled at the look of outright panic that crossed his face. “Personally, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some catmint stalks. It should be blooming by now, and while the stuff we got from your sister should still be useful, fresh catmint is always best. Yellowfang and I have searched, but we just haven’t been able to find any growing in the forest.”

Fireheart took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll bring you a whole bundle of catmint - enough to make an entire nest out of.” He vowed readily, thinking of the catmint bush in his old garden. Smudge and Hattie owed him a favor, after all - surely they wouldn’t mind if he stopped by to collect some. 

Dewshine blinked in wordless appreciation, but the purr faded from her as she did so. “That… that’s not why we called you in, though.” She sighed after a few heartbeats. “I… I spoke with Starclan afterwards. They were proud of me, all of them, Nightwish and Quickflash and… and Spottedleaf…”

Grief flashed across the new healer’s face. Though Quickflash and Spottedleaf had died seasons ago now, and she surely met them often in Starclan, Fireheart could tell she still wished that they were in Thunderclan. It wasn’t fair that they had been senselessly slaughtered, taken from life too soon. “This still doesn’t sound like bad news, though.” He pointed out softly. It also didn’t sound like a reason to wake him from his slumber, though he didn’t say that part out loud.

“No, it’s not.” Dewshine seemed to steady herself at the sound of his voice. “But when I was there, Spottedleaf told me she’d received a prophecy from Starclan while she was still alive. She told me it was mine to safeguard, now that I was a healer.” She took a deep breath and glanced up at the darkening sky. “‘Fire alone can save our Clan.’”

Fireheart’s ears perked curiously as she spoke, before he blinked in confusion at the words of the prophecy. “The one about Brokentail?” He mewed, baffled at the thought. “I don’t understand. Why would she get that prophecy in Thunderclan? I mean, I guess I’m a Thunderclan cat, but it didn’t really have anything to do with Thunderclan until-”

“The one we thought was about Brokentail.” Yellowfang interrupted him gruffly, her face scrunched up in her usual scowl. “I thought it was a Shadowclan prophecy, until Dewshine told me that. Then we asked the other healers, and it turns out Mudwish and Mosspatch got the same prophecy, too. So did Birchbark, and of course Wetnose and I. Best as we can tell, we all received it at the same time - one night last newleaf, early in the season. Back when Brokentail had just become leader, and Riverclan had just won Sunningrocks.”

Fireheart’s paws began to tingle as if they were going numb. “That doesn’t make sense.” His heart felt as though it had leaped into his throat as he stared at the other two healers. “I mean, I’m just a Thunderclan warrior. At the time I was-” nothing, he stopped himself from saying. “I was just a kittypet. Why would Starclan care about me? Why would they give every Clan a prophecy about me?”

He stood now, trying to shake off the numbness in his paws as he began to pace like Dewshine had. “I mean, I guess I helped drive off Brokentail, sure. And I was one of the cats Bluestar sent to bring Windclan back, so I could see them considering that as saving Windclan. Redtail seemed to think I was destined to drive off Tigerclaw, and I did feed Riverclan to keep them from starving. I wasn’t the only cat that did all that - Peppermask was there for it all too - but I guess I could see Starclan considering all that as saving the Clans.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. The thought of Starclan being so interested in him unnerved him to his core, though he didn’t dare say that to the two healers. He was just another cat - why were they taking such an interest in him? “But I wasn’t really responsible for saving them. Things would’ve happened whether I was there or not.”

“You fed Riverclan?” Dewshine stared at him in disbelief, before shaking her head. “No, nevermind. That’s not important right now.” Still, she seemed equally anxious as she stared at the ginger deputy. “Fireheart, those are all things that already happened.”

“So?” Fireheart countered, not seeing her point. Of course they’d already happened - how else was he supposed to know about them?

“So,” she answered slowly, staring at him as though she expected him to answer on his own, “Spottedleaf gave me the prophecy because it hadn’t yet been fulfilled. Whatever it’s referring to hasn’t happened yet.”

Fireheart had to stop as the world suddenly seemed to swirl around him. What did she mean, the prophecy hadn’t happened yet? How couldn’t it have happened yet? “What could possibly be worse for Thunderclan than Tigerclaw?” He choked out, his throat seizing up with horror at the mere thought of something - anything - worse than Tigerclaw.

Yellowfang and Dewshine shared a look - a knowing look, he would have thought, as if they could possibly know anything about something that hadn’t happened yet. “All of the healers received the prophecy that night. That means-” Dewshine caught herself, considering her words. “We think that means whatever it is, it will affect all the Clans. Brokentail was the closest to affecting all the Clans, but he was stopped before he could drive out Riverclan or Thunderclan.”

“What could possibly affect all the Clans?” Fireheart asked, his voice small and petulant despite himself. “If something that big comes, how can I possibly stop it? I’m just one cat!”

The two healers didn’t meet his eye. Fireheart shook his head, unable to calm himself down now. “This is ridiculous! Why does Starclan expect me to be the one to fix all their problems? It’s bad enough I have the entire Clan depending on me as deputy! Why can’t I just be a normal warrior?” He didn’t look at Dewshine and Yellowfang - he didn’t care to see what they thought about his words. “Why can’t some other cat step up for a change? Like Lionheart, or Whitestorm? Why does it always have to be me taking care of other cats’ problems?”

A throaty chuckle came from Yellowfang’s direction. “You’re the one that always gets yourself involved.”

“I don’t want to anymore!” He snapped, turning his green glare upon the old healer with a snarl. “Tigerclaw’s gone, and the Clan is safe. All the Clans are safe! Haven’t I done enough already? Can’t I just take care of my sister and her kits and rest for once?”

Silence stretched between them as Fireheart turned away, closing his eyes against the world bitterly. It wasn’t fair! He just wanted to be a normal warrior, as normal as Lionheart or Tinyfrost or Peppermask. He could be just that, if Starclan didn’t insist on dragging him into everything!

But Starclan hadn’t been the ones to involve him with Tigerclaw - that had been Ravenspirit and Redtail. Starclan hadn’t asked him to get involved with Windclan - that had been Bluestar. Starclan certainly weren’t the ones that made him feed Riverclan - that was all on him.

“Do you know when this is supposed to happen?” Fireheart asked at last, turning back to Yellowfang and Dewshine with a bitter sigh. “Or what it’s supposed to be? Surely Starclan has to have some idea, given how much they can see.”

Dewshine hesitated before shaking her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Fireheart. Starclan signs are often vague. It could happen a moon from now, or fifty. It’s only a warning that something is coming.”

Fireheart scoffed at her words. “Of course. How do we even know the prophecy is about me? For all we know, it’s referring to actual fire!”

“Because-” Dewshine looked away guiltily, cutting herself off before she could say more. He was slightly apologetic for upsetting her - but even so, his lip curled into a sneer as he imagined what she’d been about to say.

Because he’d saved the Clans all those other times, after all.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to reorient himself. Dewshine and Yellowfang were only the messengers - and though Starclan could surely see his anger, it did him little good to take it out on them. “I don’t see the point in worrying about it now.” He mewed at last. “It’s already been a season-cycle, after all. Maybe it won’t show up until I’m already an elder, and it won’t involve me to begin with.” He wasn’t sure whether he believed that, but he’d rather pretend that it wasn’t his problem than worry about yet another thing. “Is that all?”

“Well…” He paused to stare at Dewshine with narrowed eyes. “I- Normally, when a healer receives a prophecy, they’ll share it with the leader and the other healers in their Clan, if there are any. I’ve already told Yellowfang, of course, but Bluestar…”

Bluestar had been doing so much better lately - did she really need to know some imminent danger was looming over Thunderclan? “Don’t tell Bluestar.” He decided swiftly. “There’s no point in worrying her now.”

Dewshine looked back at Yellowfang anxiously. “She probably already knows.” Yellowfang grunted at her former apprentice’s signal. “Spottedleaf would have received this prophecy when she was still alive, and Bluestar’s healer. She would have shared it with Bluestar then.”

“And as far as Bluestar knows, I have saved the Clan.” Fireheart replied, lashing his tail once for emphasis. “Tigerclaw was driven out because of me. Thunderclan will be safe from his malevolence. Until we have reason to believe the prophecy is relevant, there’s no reason to tell her besides upsetting her.”

The two healers shared a glance once more. “She’s going to be extremely upset with us if she finds out we hid a prophecy from her.” Dewshine worried softly. “She talks to Starclan often too, after all. Who’s to say they won’t tell her?”

“If she finds out.” Fireheart pointed out, trying to keep his voice calm and confident. “How do you know that Starclan will tell her? Even if they do, it can be just as much a surprise to us as it is to her.”

Dewshine still looked concerned, but Yellowfang shrugged in response. “You’re not wrong. It’s not the first time I’ve hidden a prophecy from a leader.” She growled, going back to cleaning her paw. Fireheart tilted his head quizzically. Part of him wanted to ask what she was referring to, but he’d promised not to stick his nose into matters that didn’t involve him - and this definitely didn’t involve him.

“If that’s all.” He repeated, looking at Dewshine expectantly. The silver healer slowly dipped her head. “I’ll see you all in the morning, then.” He mewed, turning and exiting the healers’ den. 

He longed to cast what he had just heard out of his mind, but he knew it wouldn’t be so easy. How could any cat just ignore learning that a threat was out there that could destroy the four Clans? Not to mention that he was still deputy, and if this mysterious danger killed Bluestar, then- 

“I need to speak with you.” Yellowfang mumbled to him as she stood up, keeping her copper gaze on him for no more than a heartbeat before turning and all but rushing for her den. Fireheart hurried after her, not daring to keep the old healer waiting. Worries rushed through his mind. Was this about Bluestar? Had some illness befallen her, just as she was making progress? Had something happened to his niblings? Worse yet, had something happened to his sister?

Fireheart was running through all the possible catastrophes as he ducked through the crack in the ravine wall, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness of the healer’s den inside. There were no other cats inside beside Yellowfang herself, who was pacing back and forth in the small clearing. He’d never seen her like this before, and suddenly his fears went from accident or illness to outright death.

“Whitestorm came to speak with me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, nearly faster than her tongue was able to keep up. “Just after I sent Dewpaw to go fetch some coltsfoot and borage. It’s a bit late in the season for kittencough, but there’s always a chance, and borage will be good for Frostfur when-” Yellowfang paused, taking in a shuddering, raspy breath and slowly releasing it. “You don’t care about all that. The important thing is, we were alone.”

A sudden inkling trickled into the back of his mind as he recalled his earlier conversation with Whitestorm, just before the Gathering. He suddenly suspected he knew what this was about. “And?” Fireheart prompted, doing his best to speak calmly and gently.

She shook her head back and forth, as though trying to shoo off an angry fly buzzing about her head. “He said he’d noticed I’d been spending more time with him lately, and he wanted to know why. I didn’t know what to say!” She raised her eyes skyward in agony, as though Starclan would come down from the heavens and give her the way forward. “He can’t find out, Fireheart. If he knows the truth- if he finds out what I did-”

“Calm down, Yellowfang.” She turned her wild gaze to him, and Fireheart did his best to steady himself in the face of such unbound anxiety. As real as Yellowfang’s fears were - and he was sure they were very real - it was nothing compared to what he had been afraid of. He could handle this - of that he was sure. “Why can’t he find out?”

For a moment, he thought she might unleash any number of creative Shadowclan swears upon him, her gaze becoming dark and stormy as she glared at him. At last, she turned away, forcing herself to take another deep breath. “Isn’t it obvious, Fireheart? If he finds out that I’m Brokentail’s mother - that he’s my grandson - he’ll want nothing to do with me ever again.” Her thorny claws raked along the stony floor of the healer’s den as she kneaded it in agony. “I should- it’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ve enjoyed spending time with him. It makes me imagine what I could’ve had with Brokentail, had- if things had been different.” She bowed her head, no doubt remembering what her son had ended up becoming. “I don’t want to lose that.”

Fireheart took a step towards her, doing his best to appear comforting. “You don’t have to lose that.” He mewed soothingly, reaching out to gently touch her tail with his paw. She didn’t flinch away. “What makes you think that he won’t want to speak with you if he finds out the truth? Whitestorm is patient, understanding, and wise. I think if any cat were to hear you out, it would be him.”

Yellowfang glanced briefly at him as her face screwed up into a scowl before looking away once more. “You don’t understand, Fireheart. Just because you took it in stride doesn’t mean he will. The healer’s code is a sacred thing to Clan cats. Anyone who breaches it must be shunned - that’s what all Clanborn cats are taught from the moment their ears open.”

Fireheart did his best not to react at the none-too-gentle reminder that he wasn’t Clanborn. The old healer was in her own world of agony, he knew, but that didn’t make it sting any less. “And I suppose Dewpaw is a kittypet, too?” He did his best not to let his voice lower into a growl. “Yellowfang, you judge yourself because no one else can. You think you’ve committed the highest sin because of who Brokentail became, and I’m sure narrow-minded cats like Patchpelt or Tigerclaw would agree. But Whitestorm is not them - you should give him a chance, at least.”

She didn’t respond to that, and Fireheart did his best not to lash his tail in frustration. He was suddenly reminded of his apprentice days - was this what Tinyfrost had had to deal with, with him? He mentally noted that he should apologize to his old mentor later. “Yellowfang, look at it this way. You could not tell him the truth, but he’ll expect an answer when he next sees you. Will you be able to lie well enough to satisfy his curiosity? If not, he might stop talking to you because you lied to him. You could avoid him, so you don’t have to answer - but then, you’ll never be able to have anything to do with him again. Is that not exactly what you’re trying to avoid?” He could almost see her mind working as she parsed his question, slowly turning to face him once more. “I can be there with you when you tell him, if it will help. You know I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

Her face was covered in shadow as she stared at him, her eyes unreadable in the darkness. He did his best to look confident as he met her gaze, waiting for her to make a decision. “Alright.” He perked his ears as she croaked out a response. “Alright. But you have to stay with me.”

Fireheart smiled and nodded affirmatively as he stood up. It was nice being the reasonable one for a change - he could see why Peppermask enjoyed it so much. “Of course. I won’t leave your side.” He flicked his ginger tail towards the entrance. “I’ll go get him now, and we can take a walk together?”

“Now?” Yellowfang’s eyes were as wide as her paws as she stared at him in shock. “But I don’t know what to say!”

“Yes, now.” Fireheart tilted his head as though he were confused. Now he was being a bit petty - but he enjoyed it nonetheless. “I don’t have all day, you know. What with being the deputy and all.”

He turned and left before she could protest further, leaving her alone to gather her wits. Whitestorm was guarding camp, which he knew from assigning the patrols earlier. At the moment, he was talking to his mate, who had been on the dawn patrol with Fireheart. Thornpaw was sitting next to Lionheart, looking quite grumpy from the early morning wake-up.

“Whitestorm!” Fireheart called, the three turning their attention to their deputy as he crossed camp towards them. “Yellowfang needs some help gathering marigold, and Dewpaw’s out fetching other herbs at the moment. Would you mind helping us? I’m sure Lionheart can finish guarding camp in your stead.”

The senior white warrior regarded him with a guarded golden gaze, but Lionheart just chuffed in amusement and tapped his mate with his tail. “I’m sure I could! I was going to take Thornpaw hunting, but I’d happily take some time resting in camp instead. Besides, with Frostfur kitting any day now, the nursery nests need to be cleaner than ever. Isn’t that right, Thornpaw?”

Fireheart did his best not to wince in sympathy as Thornpaw glowered in their direction. Going from a hunting trip to changing out nests - that would put a damper in any apprentice’s mood, and he couldn’t blame the tabby tom in the slightest for his anger. “Fine.” Thornpaw growled before stalking off towards the nursery.

“I’m sure your mother will appreciate it!” Lionheart called after his apprentice, who only lashed his tail in response. Lionheart smirked as he turned back to Fireheart. “Oh, don’t feel bad for him. Goldenflower told me he mouthed off to your sister yesterday when she asked him to fetch her some prey. He could stand to learn some respect for all the queens in our nursery, not just his mothers.”

Any sympathy Fireheart might have had for Thornpaw evaporated in a flash. “He most certainly could.” The deputy agreed readily, before looking back at Whitestorm. “It seems that’s all taken care of, then. If you’ll come?” He questioned, realizing that Whitestorm had never actually answered him.

Whitestorm was still staring at Fireheart, but slowly nodded his assent before getting to his paws. “I suppose it’s only right of me to help out, since Lionheart’s back now.” There was a reluctance to his words that the helpful older warrior would usually never have for such a simple task. He wondered briefly what Yellowfang had said to him, but didn’t ask as he led them to the camp entrance where the old healer was waiting.

She seemed to have collected herself somewhat, no longer looking quite as outright afraid as she led them through the bramble tunnel and up the ravine. They traveled in silence, Yellowfang leading them on a familiar path that Fireheart had taken with her many times before - towards the Twolegplace.

“I take it this is about our earlier conversation?” Whitestorm interrupted the quiet with his question, flicking an ear in response to Fireheart curiously turning towards him. “Marigold doesn’t grow until greenleaf. Spottedleaf taught me that, back when we were young.” 

Fireheart blinked in confusion, before remembering what he’d said to lure the white warrior out of camp. “Oh, I- I guess I didn’t know.” He didn’t know what else to say - short of blurting out the truth of why they were out there, which he didn’t think Yellowfang would appreciate.

As he thought of the old healer in front of them, she suddenly whirled around to look at the two warriors. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.” She growled, her eyes softening as she looked at her grandson. “Please, Whitestorm.”

Whitestorm shifted nervously beside him. Nervous was not a word Fireheart had thought would ever apply to the white tom - but the darting eyes and low ears were confirmation enough that he was nervous indeed. “I can’t do that, Yellowfang.” He mewed at last. “I don’t keep secrets from my mate, and I don’t keep secrets from Bluestar. I- I hope you understand that.”

Yellowfang gasped as if Whitestorm had threatened to kill her where she stood. “Not Bluestar!” She hissed back. “If she finds out, she’ll-”

“Bluestar’s broken the code far more than you, Yellowfang.” Fireheart interrupted before she could finish, the former Shadowclanner looking at him in baffled shock. “Trust me, Yellowfang, she’ll have no problems. As for Lionheart- Whitestorm, would Lionheart tell anyone anything you told him in confidence?”

Whitestorm’s ears perked at Fireheart’s words, his gaze suddenly curious as he appraised the ginger deputy. “You’re cleverer than you let on, Fireheart.” Fireheart blinked, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but the other tom continued on before he could decide. “If I ask him to, Lionheart will not repeat a word I say - not even to his sister.”

“It sounds like at this point I might as well tell the entire Clan.” Yellowfang growled, but he could tell her bluster was a weak front for the fear coursing through her heart.

“Five cats is not an entire Clan.” Fireheart replied steadily in return, keeping himself calm as he met her gaze. “Bluestar won’t act on this, and Lionheart won’t tell a soul. Is them not knowing worth the price of keeping this secret from Whitestorm?”

The old healer looked like she wanted to scratch his eyes out for asking - yet, after several heartbeats, she swallowed her pride and nodded. “But you will not tell anyone else.” She growled. “Promise me, Whitestorm.”

Whitestorm looked between the other two cats, questions clouding his gaze - but he slowly nodded in agreement. “Very well. I promise I shall never repeat a word you tell me except to Bluestar and Lionheart.”

Yellowfang looked around nervously, as though expecting the woods to be full of enemies. There was nothing. “I ask that you not judge me too harshly, though I understand if you do.” She shifted back and forth, her paws working the ground beneath her into fine sand. “I- I hope you’ll understand.”

“When I was young - much younger than I am now - I fell in love with a tom.” Yellowfang began, each word scraping out of her as though it were being physically pulled out of her throat. “Raggedstar. I- I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say I bore him three kits. Two of them died shortly after birth, but one survived.”

It was hard to tell exactly what Whitestorm was thinking - the older tom had always been more stoic and reserved than his mate Lionheart. “Raggedstar only had one child.” He mewed at last, slowly and carefully. “So either he never claimed this child of his, or-”

“Yes.” Yellowfang’s shoulders sagged in defeat as she kept her eyes on the ground, not daring to look at him. “I am Brokentail’s mother.”

Whitestorm was silent for several long, painful heartbeats. Fireheart watched him, fear suddenly rising in his own heart. What if he was wrong? What if Whitestorm wasn’t as accepting as he had led Yellowfang to believe?

At last, the other tom dipped his head. “I understand, I think.” He paused, his brows slowly furrowing. “Partly, at least. I had always wondered why you, of all cats, would advocate for his defense.” 

“Lionheart has been having some trouble mentoring Thornpaw as of late. It seems Tigerclaw left more of a mark on him than any of us would desire.” Whitestorm rumbled on, his claws unsheathing slightly at the mere mention of the exiled traitor. “It all had me thinking about our own kits, soon to be born. I love them with all my being, even though I haven’t yet met them. They are proof of Lionheart and I’s devotion to each other. What would I do if one of them chose that dark path? As much as I would believe that I could guide them, perhaps what I would think to be guidance is only enabling.”

Yellowfang looked up, her flat face full of hard to place emotions. “I advocated for him because I wanted to believe that he could change. I thought maybe in a different Clan, one where he had to rely on others, he would no longer be so arrogant. I thought that having only one life left would humble him, force him to see the error of his ways. Part of me hoped that if I was by his side more, I could persuade him to change.” Her eyes disappeared into a thick scowl. “But I was just enabling him to commit more crimes against a Clan I claimed to love, wasn’t I?”

Whitestorm appraised Yellowfang’s slouched form for a moment, his golden eyes guarded but curious. “A parent’s love is a durable thing, isn’t it? You couldn’t have known that Tigerclaw would use him to try and overthrow Bluestar.” He dipped his head respectfully to the old healer. “It’s easy enough to say what to do with the benefit of hindsight, but there is courage to be had in giving a second chance even to those who have wronged you before.”

Yellowfang heaved a difficult sigh. “I gave him too many.”

Whitestorm shrugged softly in response. “Perhaps.” He mewed steadily. “Perhaps Bluestar gave Tigerclaw too many chances, between what he did to Tinyfrost and Ravenspirit. But he was a strong warrior, and she wanted to believe he could do great things one day. I wanted to believe that, too. Perhaps that was why I went along with her decision that night.” He shook his head with a sigh before tilting it quizzically. “But while that explains a good deal, I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

Yellowfang’s gaze flicked nervously towards Fireheart, all but begging him to step in - which he did readily. “When Brokentail first became Thunderclan’s prisoner, I was one of the first to guard him. He took that as an insult, of course, and started taunting me, calling me a kittypet, my mother and father kittypets, the usual.” Even now, it was hard to keep his tail from bristling as he listed off the ‘typical’ insults. “I told him that I didn’t know who my father was, and that he could be my father for all I know. I added that it was probably an insult to him to even imply that he was the father of a Thunderclanner, and he…” 

Fireheart trailed off and glanced at his ginger paws, part of him worrying about if he was wrong. Maybe Brokentail had been lying, to try and get him to suspect his Clanmates of being half-Clan. It made more sense than the cruel tyrant telling the truth about anything. But Yellowfang and Dewpaw had both agreed that his thoughts made sense, and even Whitestorm had admitted he didn’t know who his father was. 

He looked back up to see Whitestorm staring at him, obviously puzzled. “He told me that he had had a Thunderclan mate, many seasons ago. He didn’t say much about her - only that she died on the Thunderpath several leafbares ago, when her only kit - a tom - was too young to travel to meet him.”

It was easy to see the moment that everything fell into place for Whitestorm. His eyes widened, pupils growing to the size of the new moon as the senior warrior’s white fur bristled from the nape of his neck all the way to his tail. “No.” Whitestorm choked out, stumbling back a few pawsteps before falling onto his rump, his horrified gaze flicking between Fireheart and Yellowfang. “No - No. That cannot be.”

“You said yourself you didn’t know who your father was.” Fireheart continued, even as his heart tore for the warrior he had looked up to for so long. This was a terrible revelation, he knew - not one that squared with the image of Whitestorm, the pinnacle of wisdom and kindness. “Your mother Snowstorm died on the Thunderpath, didn’t she? In leafbare, when you were still too young to leave the nursery.”

“That can’t be- Brokentail cannot be my father!” Whitestorm choked out the words with a snarl, his sides heaving as he fought to control himself. “You have to be mistaken.”

Yellowfang turned away from them with a low growl, her ears pinned back in humiliated anger. “I told you this was a bad idea.” She hissed to Fireheart.

“Sit down and relax, would you?” Fireheart shot back at the old healer before looking back at Whitestorm, trying to remain calm himself. “Why is it impossible, Whitestorm?”

Whitestorm stared back at him, his eyes still round in horror. “Don’t you remember, Fireheart? I was guarding him the day his rogues attacked. He jumped at me, and I was just defending myself, but I-” The older warrior barely choked back a wail. “If what you say is true, I killed my own father!”

Fireheart blinked in surprise, suddenly remembering that no other cat knew what had truly happened that day. Brokentail had been killed, yes - but it was because Yellowfang had poisoned him with foxglove seeds, in the secrecy of their den. He had unintentionally witnessed it, sneaking into her den in fear that she was being attacked by a rogue, but he had chosen to keep that secret because he knew she had intended for no one to know. As far as the Clan knew, Whitestorm’s blows had not just blinded him, but killed him outright.

He glanced at Yellowfang, wondering if she would now reveal the truth. It was one thing, after all, for Whitestorm to take the blame and credit for killing a rogue leader when they had meant nothing to each other. Now, however, Whitestorm clearly believed he was responsible for killing his own blood, even unintentionally. Even though Brokentail had been a terrible cat, one that truly deserved death, it wasn’t fair for Whitestorm to carry such guilt when the one truly responsible was right there.

“It was not you that killed him.” His heart lifted as Yellowfang spoke, relieved that she had decided to come clean after all. “It was his own actions that got him killed. If he had not attacked you, he would not have died.”

“That may be true, but-” Fireheart’s spirits sank as Whitestorm looked down at his paws. Yellowfang was taking the easy way out, refusing to relieve Whitestorm of his guilt when it was clear that the mere thought was tearing him in two. He could only guess she was afraid that he would reject her for refusing to tell the truth; part of him longed to urge her to reveal what had really happened, but doing so would reveal that he had known all along that she had poisoned her son. He had sworn to himself that he would never bring it up - and so he stayed quiet, even though it pained him greatly.

Then the white warrior’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sob. “All this time…” He took a few slow, stuttering breaths, trying to calm himself. Finally, he looked back up at Yellowfang, his golden eyes filled with a sudden clarity. “One of the only memories I have of my mother is when she was leaving the nursery late one morning. I begged to go with her, and I asked her why she couldn’t stay with me.” Tears came to his eyes at the memory of Snowstorm, lost to him before he was even an apprentice. “She told me that she was going to see my father, and it was too far for me to walk. She promised me when I was big and strong enough, she would take me to see him.”

“Deep down, I always knew he was not a Thunderclan warrior.” Whitestorm admitted, his claws digging into the earth below him as if he was afraid it would fall away from him at any moment. “I had always hoped it was a loner, or- or a kittypet, maybe, like Frostfur… Someone unfamiliar with Clan life, someone I would never meet.” He looked over at Fireheart, his eyes shimmering with salty tears. “Are you really certain? Brokentail is my father?”

He didn’t know what to say - part of him wanted to comfort Whitestorm, but he didn’t want the tom to think he was lying, either. “Brokentail never said the name of his mate or his kit, and of course I’ve never spoken to Snowstorm.” He finally mewed as neutrally as he could. “But too many of the details match up for it to be mere coincidence. When I was talking with Bluestar about Snowstorm’s death, she specifically said her sister ran off to the Thunderpath again, like she made a habit of doing that. When I pressed her about it, she went quiet, like she didn’t want me to think about it too deeply.”

“Bluestar?” Whitestorm’s eyes suddenly blazed with hurt and fury. “You don’t think she knew who my father was?”

Fireheart blinked, suddenly recalling how Bluestar had said Snowstorm had never told her who Whitestorm’s father was. Obviously she had kept her nephew in the dark completely - but now he suddenly had to consider whether she had known all along. He thought back through his interactions with her, knowing he had to choose his words carefully. Whitestorm already felt betrayed enough knowing that his mother had chosen such a sinister mate - even if Bluestar had known, it didn’t seem fair to cause a rift in her relation with her only Thunderclan family over this.

“She never said anything to me directly.” Fireheart said at last, hoping to at least partially ease Whitestorm’s fears. “Whenever it came to Brokentail, she never seemed torn or hesitant regarding him. She’s our leader, of course, and she’s often hard to read, but I think she would have had at least a heartbeat’s hesitation when it came to discussing his fate if she knew he was your father. I think she suspected that your father was Shadowclan, or may have outright known, but I don’t think she knew which cat specifically.”

“There were several handsome young toms around Brokentail’s age in Shadowclan at that time.” Yellowfang added in, though he couldn’t tell if she was trying to be helpful or not. “Spiderfoot, Mousefang, Deerstrike, plus Clawface and Stumpytail. Maybe not Spiderfoot, since you don’t have his paws, but the rest of them could’ve been suspect.”

Whitestorm nodded slowly, taking in what the other two were saying. His breathing began to steady at last as he considered their words. “I see.” He finally murmured at last, barely loud enough for them to catch. “I see.”

“Whitestorm, I- I am sorry I didn’t tell you.” Yellowfang stepped forward gingerly, her copper eyes locked on her grandson as he slowly gained his composure. “I thought you would be better off if you didn’t know. But then you asked me, and I-” She cut herself off, clearly searching for the right words. “All this time, I have regretted my choice. I wish I had never taken Brokenkit back to camp. I wish I had had the courage to stay on my path, instead of trying to have the best of both lives. I thought Brokentail had brought the Clans nothing but grief, pain, and death.”

“But then… But then Fireheart told me about you. My grandson.” Even despite the tension in the air, Fireheart could hear the whimsical joy in her voice. “Despite all the suffering he caused, he left the world one gift - one beautiful, precious gift. A warrior that is wise, and strong, and kind - everything that Brokentail could never be.” She let out a hollow laugh that sounded a bit more like a sob. “It’s selfish of me, I know. I broke the code. I don’t deserve to even look at you, but I- You are everything that I wanted in a son. That is why I wanted to spend every moment I could giving you the love that I could never give my son.” She stared at him, her mouth working as she tried to find more words to explain, but there were none. “I don’t ask for forgiveness, but I- I hope you understand.”

Whitestorm was silent for a long moment, staring off into the distance as Yellowfang watched him pleadingly. At last he looked back in her direction, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. “I understand.” He mewed at last, though the words sounded forced. “I really do. But I… I think I need some time to think right now.”

“Please-” Yellowfang lunged forward, but Fireheart was there to stop her before she could reach her grandson. “Please don’t go! I’m sorry- I didn’t want to hurt you-!”

Whitestorm took a couple tottering steps away as he got to his feet. “I know.” he replied simply. “I know you didn’t. I understand what you’re saying, and I am not mad at you, but I- I need some time alone.” His voice sounded strained and monotone, as though the senior warrior didn’t really mean what he was saying.

“Let him go, Yellowfang.” Fireheart murmured, softly enough that only she could hear. “Remember how you reacted when I told you he was your grandson? You needed time to think then, and you weren’t mad at Whitestorm or me, were you?”

For another few heartbeats, the old healer strained against his shoulder, and he worried she hadn’t listened to him. Then she slumped back, suddenly defeated. “I- you’re right.” She replied just as quietly. “I- I’ll see you back at camp?” Yellowfang offered as Whitestorm began walking off. 

His only answer was a flick of his tail as he disappeared into the bushes.

The silence seemed to echo in the woods, filling Fireheart’s ears. At last Yellowfang turned to the ginger deputy, her face wrought with pain. “Oh, Fireheart… I messed that all up, didn’t I?”

He wished he could reassure her, but they both knew he couldn’t speak for Whitestorm now. “You did the best you could.” He replied at last, though he could hear how weak that sounded. “That may not be enough, but I think Whitestorm will recognize that. And I know he will hold to his word. Things may never be the same between the two of you, but it’s still better than never speaking to him again.”

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?”

So the way names are decided are first primarily through personality, followed by strength, followed lastly by appearance.

There is some leeway on this - there are cats whose appearances are so striking, for example, wherein their prefix is named after that facet of their appearance and the leader (generally) will fulfill the spirit of the name their parents gave them unless they have a specific reason not to. Examples are those such as Redtail, Bluefur, and Graystripe. If Bluefur had been named something else - let's say Rainkit, to match with Snowkit - then Pinestar most likely would have named her for her intelligence or bravery, so something like Rainpool or Rainstorm.

Still, in general personality comes first - we see this in the names of cats like Mistspring, Cinderspark, and Tinyfrost. The ideal suffix is one that most accurately conveys a cat's personality upon meeting. These are names like -blaze (bold, passionate), -dawn (kind, graceful), -frost (quiet, cunning), so on and so forth. It's not unheard of for apprentices to guess what the others' suffixes might be based off their personality - though this also can lead to flared tempers from those who get guessed a name they don't think fits them, especially if they're not terribly introspective...

There are also some personality suffixes that have specific connotations with them that a leader has to take into consideration. For example, -flower is associated with motherly cats, and is typically given to molly apprentices that show an interest in becoming a nursery queen one day (we see this in Goldenflower as well as Morningflower!). Likewise, -leaf is commonly associated with healers, so it's very rare to see a warrior carrying it, even if it otherwise fits them (kind and graceful) - a leader will typically use -feather or -dawn instead. Names like -claw and -fang are pretty much exclusively used for warriors, so you will never see a healer given those suffixes in their healer ceremony.

Not every personality is going to have a name that fits them - Cedarpaw, for example, is outgoing, kind, loyal and determined. There's not really a suffix that fully matches that, so instead a leader would need to consider his strengths - things like how good he is at hunting, fighting, running/tree-climbing/sneaking/swimming (depending on Clan values, of course!). Cedarpaw is naturally one of the larger cats in the Clan, and Longtail has taught him well in fighting, so that's likely what Bluestar would name him after - something like Cedartalon, or as the poll decided, Cedarstrike.

There's also cats that undergo a significant change or challenge in their apprenticeship - cats like Ravenpaw, Snowkit (Snowpaw eventually!), and Thornpaw. In these cases, they'd most likely be named after whatever that challenge was - for instance, Snowkit becoming Snowbloom, which is a name commonly given to those who struggle to find their place in the Clan - it's known that cats with the -bloom suffix end up becoming the most beautiful flowers of all (Bluestar definitely considered Tinybloom for Tinyfrost!). If Cinderpaw had ended up having her accident as an apprentice in Talonslock, she would still have become a warrior, and likely would have been named something like Cindershimmer, which is a name commonly given to those who succeed through some sort of adversity (the same could also have been given to Ravenpaw!).

If a cat meets none of these requirements, then - and only then - will they be considered for an appearance based name like -foot, -tuft, -patch, -stripe, -spot(s)/-speck(le), -tail, -fur, or -pelt. This doesn't apply to all names that refer to a body part or pattern - there are names like -nose, which is commonly given to good hunters for their ability to scent out prey, and -mask, which is often given to intelligent and cunning cats as well as good hunters (which is how Peppermask got her name!). There's also the previously mentioned cases where an appearance is so striking that they're fundamentally named after it. Lastly, there are still some connotative differences between names - -pelt is often given to cats that are seen as 'protectors', which is how Nightpelt got his name (Bluefur probably should have been Bluepelt as well, but perhaps Pinestar had other reasons for that one). Still, these suffixes are generally perceived as 'boring', and a warrior that receives them is vaguely looked down upon - often, they are seen as not good enough in any way to warrant a better suffix. It's considered very rare for a -fur suffix to become deputy, let alone leader (although, as always, there are exceptions, like Bluefur herself).

It's still not always on the warrior if they receive a 'boring' name. Leaders are usually quite busy, and don't often get to know each apprentice one on one. When an apprentice has reached a certain point (usually after visiting the Moonstone), the leader will often talk with their mentor and the deputy to get name suggestions from them. They'll usually suggest a few, and the leader will pick the one they think is best for the apprentice from that list. However, there are cases where this doesn't happen, or the names that a mentor picks are particularly bad. One example of this would be Darkstripe - Tigerclaw suggested Darktiger for him, which Bluestar refused on the basis that he was only naming his apprentice after him and not for himself. Tigerclaw never gave her a better name, so she ended up choosing Darkstripe because she didn't know him well enough to pick a better one. It's possible Mousefur fell into this category - it certainly seems strange, given how close she was to her mentor Dappleshine and how good of a hunter she's known to be.

This also doesn't really cover legacy names, which are given on a case-by-case basis, and are never decided by the mentor (only the leader). Longtail is a good example here, being named after Redtail specifically - Bluestar felt the name matched him well enough, even though his tail isn't the most spectacularly long, and wanted to honor her first deputy. The same occurred with both Whitestorm and Sandstorm - when the time came, Bluestar wanted to honor her sister by naming her son after her. She named Sandstorm more because it fit her, rather than because of it being a legacy name from her mentor specifically, but it ended up working out that way as well.

There are also just leaders that are bad at naming, like Brokentail. He never ended up giving any apprentice their name (because they kept dying before they became warriors...), but I believe I've already stated that Clawface and Stumpytail's names weren't originally Clawface and Stumpytail. There were many awkward looks when Clawface re-introduced himself at the next Gathering...

Speaking of awkward looks - because of all the above reasons, it's still considered crude to openly judge a warrior's name, especially in the case of those with appearance-related names. Unless you're actually in a Clan and know the cat well enough to know why they got their name, it's generally better to assume that they're a warrior for a reason, regardless of the intricacies behind their name. For instance, Longtail being named after Redtail, who was a respected deputy of Thunderclan - even though he otherwise has an appearance-based name that isn't immediately striking like Redtail's. There have been apprentices that have broken this unspoken rule in the past, and summarily been cuffed over the ears by a nearby warrior or their mentor over it.

The names I choose for naming polls will often follow these conventions - including a couple of legacy names that the leader might consider, followed by any obvious appearance-related names, followed by personality, followed by skills. I generally won't include the non-obvious appearance based names unless that was their name in canon (as was the case with Brackenfur) or they're a wooden enough character (no on-screen interaction) that they don't really have any concrete personality to speak of - which I definitely try to avoid! That's why you won't often see -foot, -tail, -fur, or -pelt, though I may include -spot(s), -speck(le), -patch or -tuft if they happen to fit. I don't always include the in-world lore behind each suffix - I haven't gone super deep into all of them, plus there's not enough space in the polls for that, but rest assure that the ones I pick are usually for good reasons!

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.