Fireheart began to creep slowly through the ferns, their browning tips whispering against his fur. He could see the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak tree ahead of him, just inside the ThunderClan border. Its twisted roots stuck out of the forest floor, the earth under which they had once been buried long since eroded by wind and rain. Now there was a space underneath, a small cave walled by roots. Fireheart sniffed again. The smell was definitely coming from there, tainted by the unmistakeable stench of sickness.
Fear and the desire to protect his Clan made Fireheart instinctively unsheathe his claws. Whatever foulness was in that cave must be driven out of ThunderClan territory. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Fireheart raced from the ferns. He arched his back and stood threateningly in the mouth of the root cave, ready for a fight. But he was met by a heavy silence, broken with shallow, rasping breaths.
He stared into the gloom, his hackles raised. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he blinked in surprise. The last time he’d seen these cats, they’d been disappearing under the Thunderpath, back to their own territory. It was the two ShadowClan warriors who had sought help from ThunderClan—Littlecloud and Whitethroat.
“Why have you come back?” Fireheart spat. “Go home, before you infect every Clan in the forest!” He drew back his lips, baring his teeth, when a familiar voice sounded behind him.
“Fireheart, stop! Leave them alone!”
A pile of herbs lay between Cinderpelt’s paws. She lifted her chin defiantly. “They needed my help. There was nothing for them in their camp but sickness.”
“So they came straight back!” Fireheart glared at her angrily. “Where did you find them?”
“Near Sunningrocks. I smelled their sickness when I was out collecting herbs yesterday. They were looking for a safe place to hide,” explained Cinderpelt.
“And you brought them here.” Fireheart snorted. “They probably only came back onto our land because they knew you’d take pity on them.” Cinderpelt’s concern for the ShadowClan cats had been obvious when they were in the ThunderClan camp. “Did you think you could treat them without any cat finding out?” Fireheart demanded. He couldn’t believe that Cinderpelt had exposed herself—and the rest of the Clan—to such a risk.
Cinderpelt met his eyes, undaunted. “Don’t pretend you’re really angry with me. You felt just as sorry for them,” she reminded him. “You couldn’t have turned them away a second time either!”
Fireheart could see that she believed she had done the right thing, and he had to admit the truth in her words—he couldn’t deny he felt sorry for the sick cats, and had felt uncomfortable with Bluestar’s lack of compassion. “Does Yellowfang know?” he asked, his anger fading.
“No, I don’t think so,” answered Cinderpelt.
“How sick are they?”
“They’re starting to recover.” Cinderpelt allowed a hint of satisfaction to enter her voice.
“I still smell sickness,” Fireheart meowed suspiciously.
“Well, they’re not completely cured yet. But they will be.”
Littlecloud’s voice rasped from the shadows behind him. “We’re getting better, thanks to Cinderpelt.”
Fireheart could hear that Littlecloud’s voice was already stronger than it had been in the ThunderClan camp, and the young warrior’s eyes shone brightly in the gloom. “They do sound better,” he admitted, turning back to the young medicine cat. “How did you do it? Yellowfang seemed to think this sickness was deadly.”
“I must have found the right combination of herbs and berries,” Cinderpelt replied happily. Fireheart noticed she spoke with a confidence he’d not heard in her for a while, and he recognized the spirit of the lively, strong-willed apprentice he had once trained.
“Well done!” he meowed. He thought instinctively of how Bluestar would relish the news that a ThunderClan cat might have found a cure for ShadowClan’s strange sickness. But then he remembered that Bluestar was not the leader she had once been. It wouldn’t be safe to tell her that Cinderpelt had been hiding ShadowClan cats in ThunderClan territory. Her judgment had been clouded by her obsession with the threat of attack.
Fireheart realized that as long as the ShadowClan cats remained here, they were in danger. He was afraid Bluestar would order them to be killed at once if she found out they were still on ThunderClan territory. “I’m sorry, Cinderpelt.” He shook his head. “These cats must leave. It’s not safe for them here.”
Cinderpelt flicked her tail in frustration. “They’re too ill to return to their own camp yet. I might be able to heal them, but I’m no good as a hunter. They haven’t eaten properly for days.”
“I’ll catch them something now,” Fireheart offered. “It should give them enough strength to travel home.”
“But what about when we get back?” Whitethroat rasped from the shadows.
