“E-everything’s fine,” Fireheart stammered. He felt his voice tighten and his shoulders tense with the effort of lying.
Princess blinked gratefully, instantly trusting his words, and touched her nose to Fireheart’s in greeting. He nuzzled her, breathing in the familiar smell that reminded him of his kithood. “I’m glad,” she purred. “I was beginning to worry. Why hasn’t Cloudpaw been to visit? I keep smelling his scent, but I haven’t seen him for days.” Fireheart couldn’t think of what to say, and felt relieved when Princess carried on chattering. “I suppose you’re keeping him busy with his training,” she mewed. “Last time he visited he told me you were really impressed with his progress. He said he was way ahead of the other apprentices!” Princess sounded delighted and her eyes shone with pride.
“He was my firstborn,” purred Princess. “I knew he’d be special. I still miss him, even though I know how happy he is.”
“I’m sure all your kits are special in their own way.” Fireheart longed to tell his sister the truth, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that her sacrifice had been wasted. “I must go,” he meowed instead.
“Already?” Princess exclaimed. “Well, come back and see me soon. And bring Cloudpaw next time!”
Fireheart nodded. He didn’t want to return to the camp just yet, but this conversation was making him way too uncomfortable, as if he were confronting the impossible chasm between the forest and kittypet life.
Fireheart traveled the long way back to camp, letting the familiar greenness of the forest calm him. As he emerged from the trees at the top of the ravine, he found himself thinking yet again how much he missed having Graystripe around to confide in.
“Hi!” Sandstorm’s voice surprised him. She was climbing out of the ravine and must have smelled his scent. “How was training? Where’s Cloudpaw?”
Fireheart looked at the she-cat’s sharp orange face. Her green eyes shone, and suddenly he knew that he could confide in her. He glanced anxiously around. “Are you alone?”
Sandstorm stared back at him curiously. “Yes. I thought I’d do a bit of hunting before mealtime.”
Fireheart padded to the edge of the slope and stared down at the treetops that sheltered the camp below. Sandstorm sat beside him. She didn’t speak, but pressed her flank to his sympathetically. Fireheart knew that he could even walk away now and she wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Sandstorm,” he began hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“Do you think I made the wrong decision bringing Cloudpaw into the Clan?”
Sandstorm was silent for a few moments, and when she spoke, her words were careful and honest. “When I looked at him today, lying outside his den, I thought he looked more like a kittypet than a warrior. And then I remembered the day he caught his first prey. He was just a tiny kit, but he went out into a blizzard to catch that vole. He looked so unafraid, so proud of what he had done. He seemed like a Clan cat then, born and bred.”
“So I made the right decision?” Fireheart meowed hopefully.
There was another heavy pause. “I think only time will tell,” Sandstorm replied at last.
Fireheart didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the reassurance he’d been hoping for, but he knew she was right.
“Has something happened to him?” asked Sandstorm, her eyes narrowed with concern.
“I saw him go into a Twoleg nest this afternoon,” Fireheart confessed flatly. “I think he’s been allowing them to feed him for a while now.”
Sandstorm frowned. “Does he know you saw him?”
“No.”
“You should tell him,” advised Sandstorm. “Cloudpaw needs to decide where he belongs.”
“But what if he decides to return to a kittypet life?” Fireheart protested. Today had made him realize how much he wanted Cloudpaw to stay in the Clan. Not just for his own sake, or to show the other cats that warriors didn’t have to be forestborn, but for Cloudpaw’s sake too. He had so much to give to the Clan, and would be repaid more than enough by their loyalty. Fireheart felt his heart begin to pound at the thought of what Cloudpaw might be about to throw away.
“It’s his decision,” meowed Sandstorm gently.
“If only I’d been a better mentor—”
“It’s not your fault,” Sandstorm interrupted him. “You can’t change what’s in his heart.”
Fireheart shrugged hopelessly.
“Just talk to him,” urged Sandstorm. “Find out what he wants. Let him decide for himself.” Her eyes were round with sympathy, but Fireheart still felt miserable. “Go and find him,” she meowed. Fireheart nodded as Sandstorm stood up and padded away into the trees.
