“No,” growled Tigerclaw. “The dawn patrol reported scenting RiverClan at Sunningrocks. They may have started hunting there again.” Anger flared in his eyes, and his lip curled to reveal sharp teeth. “They will need to be warned off before we do any more training there. For now, Tallpines would be much safer for the assessment.”
Whitestorm nodded in agreement while Fireheart’s ears twitched uncomfortably at this news. RiverClan at Sunningrocks! It was lucky they hadn’t been spotted by enemy patrols when Graystripe fell into the river.
“As for the fog,” Tigerclaw continued smoothly, “hunting in difficult conditions will make the test more interesting.”
“Yes, Tigerclaw,” meowed Fireheart, ducking his head respectfully to the two warriors. “I’ll tell Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw. We’ll get started right away.”
When Fireheart explained the assessment to the apprentices, Cinderpaw flicked up her tail and ran in an excited circle. “An assessment! Do you think we’re ready?”
“Of course,” Fireheart meowed, hiding his doubts. “You’ve been working hard and learning quickly.”
“But won’t the fog make hunting difficult?” asked Brackenpaw.
Fireheart replied, “There are advantages to the stillness of the air.”
Brackenpaw looked thoughtful, then his eyes began to shine and he mewed, “It’ll be harder to sniff out prey, but it’ll also make it harder for the prey to smell us.”
“Exactly,” Fireheart agreed.
“Shall we go now?” Cinderpaw asked.
“As soon as you like,” answered Fireheart. “But take your time; it’s not a race…” His words were wasted on Cinderpaw, who was already charging toward the camp entrance. “You’ve got till sunset,” he called after her. Brackenpaw glanced at Fireheart and turned to follow his sister with a small sigh.
Fireheart tracked the two apprentices through the Tallpines. The springy layer of pine needles underpaw felt strangely soft after the frozen ground in the rest of the forest. He followed Cinderpaw’s trail until he could see her stalking eagerly through the forest. Then he picked up Brackenpaw’s scent and followed that. The trails crossed here and there. Fireheart could smell where the apprentices had run fast, where they had sat down, even where they had lingered together at one point.
Before long Fireheart found a spot where Cinderpaw had made a kill. She had taken it with her—as he followed her trail, he could smell the scent of her catch mingling with her own. Then he discovered where Brackenpaw had caught a thrush. The feathers were scattered everywhere. The apprentices were hunting well. Fireheart knew this for sure when he detected a scent thick with fresh-kill. He dug down among the needles at the roots of a pine. There was a stash of prey hidden underneath it, left by Cinderpaw to pick up later. Fireheart felt a small glow of pride at her work. She had caught plenty, and now she was heading for the oak woods behind the Twolegplace.
Fireheart followed. Just beyond the edge of the pine forest, he picked up Brackenpaw’s scent. It was strong, which meant the apprentice was nearby. Fireheart crept forward and peered around a young oak. The apprentice was crouching beneath a tangle of brambles, well disguised among its shadows. Fireheart could just see his tail moving as it twitched from side to side.
Brackenpaw had his eyes fixed on a wood mouse that was scrambling around the roots of a tree. Brackenpaw was taking his time. Good, thought Fireheart. He watched Brackenpaw draw himself forward, one step at a time. The leaves beneath his paws hardly made a sound. He was as quiet as the mouse itself, which continued to hunt for food, suspecting nothing. Fireheart watched breathlessly, remembering his first hunting mission.
Brackenpaw closed in. The soft rustle of his paws on leaves melted into the background sounds of the forest. Fireheart found himself willing the apprentice on. Brackenpaw was only a rabbit length away from the mouse now, his body pressed flat against the forest floor. The mouse scampered onto a root and looked around. It froze. Something was wrong.
Now! thought Fireheart. Brackenpaw sprang and landed on the mouse, grasping it in his front paws. The mouse didn’t have time to struggle. It was over in a single bite.
Brackenpaw raised his head. Fireheart saw the satisfied expression on the young cat’s face as he breathed the scent of his fresh-kill. Then Brackenpaw darted away between the trees. Fireheart realized he was looking forward to reporting back to Tigerclaw about his apprentices.
“Hi!” The small voice behind him made Fireheart jump into the air. He spun around.
“How are we doing?” asked Cinderpaw, looking up at him with her head to one side.
“You’re not meant to ask that!” Fireheart spat, and licked his ruffled fur. “You’re not supposed to speak to me at all. I’m assessing you, remember?”
“Oh!” mewed Cinderpaw. “Sorry.”
Fireheart sighed. He would never have dared to approach Tigerclaw during his own assessment. He didn’t want to scare Cinderpaw into obedience, as Tigerclaw had done with Ravenpaw, but he wouldn’t mind a little respect every now and then. Sometimes he didn’t feel like Cinderpaw’s mentor at all.
Cinderpaw looked at the ground for a moment, then glanced up at him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Were you really born over there, in Twolegplace?”
The question caught Fireheart off guard. He glanced nervously in the direction of the Twoleg fence, praying that the strange scents of Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw would keep Princess inside her own garden today. “Why d’you ask?” he mewed, stalling.
“Tigerclaw mentioned it, that’s all,” answered Cinderpaw. She seemed genuinely curious, but Fireheart felt a dark quiver of menace at the mention of Tigerclaw’s name. What else had Tigerclaw been telling Cinderpaw about him?
“I was born a kittypet,” Fireheart meowed firmly. “But I’m a warrior now. My life is with the Clan. My old life wasn’t bad, but it’s over, and I’m glad.”
“Oh, okay,” mewed Cinderpaw, sounding unconcerned. “See you later!” She spun around and charged off into the trees.
Fireheart stood alone in the woods, his heart thudding as he stared at the Twoleg fence. A moon ago, his words to Cinderpaw about being glad his old life was over would have been utterly true. Now he was not so sure. His fur tingled with the knowledge that some of his happiest moments recently had been spent sharing memories with his gentle kittypet sister.
Chapter 13
As the sun sank into the forest, Fireheart waited beside the pine tree where Cinderpaw had buried her first lot of fresh-kill. He heard pawsteps and turned to see Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw padding toward him. Prey dangled from their mouths. Brackenpaw could barely hold his catch, it was so big. Fireheart felt a surge of relief. Even Tigerclaw couldn’t criticize the apprentices’ efforts.
“I’ll help carry this lot back,” Fireheart offered, flicking away the covering of pine needles from Cinderpaw’s stash. He dug it up, grasped the fresh-kill between his teeth, and set off back to the camp.
When they arrived in the camp clearing, some of the Clan cats were already taking their share of fresh-kill from the pile. Tigerclaw must have been looking out for their return, because he padded over to them as they dropped their catch near the rest.
“They caught all this themselves?” he asked, nudging the pile with a massive paw.
“Oh, yes,” Fireheart replied.
“Good,” meowed Tigerclaw. “Come and join me and Bluestar. Bring some fresh-kill for yourself; we’re already eating.”
Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw looked at Fireheart with admiring stares—it was a privilege to eat with the Clan leader and deputy. Fireheart didn’t share their excitement. He’d hoped that he would report to Bluestar alone. The last cat he wanted to share his meal with was Tigerclaw.