Fireheart felt his Clanmates stiffen around him. They all shared Brightpaw’s unwillingness to reveal the truth about their former deputy’s disloyalty.
Bluestar’s authoritative yowl silenced the questions. “Tigerclaw’s fate is ThunderClan’s business and does not concern anyone else!”
The cats fell into a disgruntled murmuring, their curiosity clearly not satisfied. Fireheart couldn’t help wondering if Bluestar should warn the other Clans that Tigerclaw was still alive—that there was a dangerous traitor roaming the forest, unfettered by the warrior code.
But when Bluestar meowed again she made no mention of Tigerclaw. Instead she announced, “Our new deputy is Fireheart.”
Dozens of heads turned to look at Fireheart, and he felt hot under their questioning stares. The silence seemed to pound in his ears. He kneaded the ground and soundlessly urged the leaders to carry on with the Gathering, aware only of the sound of breathing and the rows upon rows of unblinking eyes.
A golden head appeared through the wall of leaves. It was Sandstorm, her pale green eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’ve captured two ShadowClan warriors!” she meowed breathlessly.
Fireheart leaped to his paws, instantly awake. “What? Where?”
“By the Owl Tree,” Sandstorm explained, adding, “they were asleep!” Her voice betrayed her scorn at the ShadowClan cats’ carelessness.
“Have you told Bluestar?”
“Dustpelt’s telling her now.” She ducked out of the warriors’ den and Fireheart sprang after her, past Runningwind, who jerked up his head, startled awake by the commotion.
Fireheart had slept fitfully after returning from the Gathering, shaken by the loaded silence that had greeted the announcement of his deputyship. His dreams had been filled with unknown cats that recoiled from him as if he were an owl of ill omen flying through a forest of shadows. He thought he had left his days as an outsider behind him, but the challenging stares from the other cats had warned him that he was still not fully accepted into forest life. He just hoped they didn’t find out about the broken naming ritual. That would only reinforce their uneasiness about a kittypet replacing a respected Clanborn deputy.
Now he faced yet another challenge. How would he deal with enemy cats captured on ThunderClan territory? Fireheart found himself hoping that Bluestar would be in a calm enough mood to guide him.
The dawn patrol was gathered in a circle in the middle of the clearing. Fireheart pushed his way through them and saw two ShadowClan cats crouching on the hard earth, their tails bushed out and their ears flattened.
He recognized one of the warriors at once. It was Littlecloud, a brown tabby tom. They’d met at a Gathering when Littlecloud was no more than a kit. He had been forced into apprenticeship by Brokentail when he was only three moons old. He was fully grown now, but still small-framed, and he looked in a bad way. His fur was matted and he stank of crowfood and fear. His haunches were bony, like featherless wings, and his eyes were sunk into his head. The other one wasn’t much better off.
He looked at Whitestorm, who had led the dawn patrol. “Did they put up a fight when you found them?”
“No,” Whitestorm admitted, flicking his tail. “When we woke them up, they begged us to bring them here.”
Fireheart felt confused. “Begged you?” he echoed. “Why would they do that?”
“Where are these ShadowClan warriors?” yowled Bluestar, pushing her way through the audience of cats, her face twisted in fear and rage. Fireheart felt his belly tense. “Is this another attack?” she hissed at the two wretched cats.
“Whitestorm found them on patrol,” Fireheart explained quickly. “They were sleeping in ThunderClan territory.”
“Sleeping?” snarled Bluestar, her ears flat against her head. “Well, have we been invaded or not?”
“These were the only warriors we found,” meowed Whitestorm.
“Are you sure?” demanded Bluestar. “It could be a trap.”
As Fireheart looked at these two sorry creatures, his instinct told him that invasion was the last thing on their minds. But Bluestar had a point. It would be wise to make sure there were no other ShadowClan cats hiding in the woods, waiting for a signal to attack. He called to Mousefur and Dustpelt. “You two, take a warrior and an apprentice each. Start at the Thunderpath and work your way back to camp. I want every bit of the territory searched for signs of ShadowClan.”
To Fireheart’s relief the two warriors obeyed instantly. Dustpelt called Runningwind and Ashpaw, while Mousefur signaled to Swiftpaw and Brackenfur; then the six cats raced out of the camp and into the forest.
