Suddenly he thought of Princess.
Fireheart raced along the edge of the woods to the part of Twolegplace where his sister’s garden lay. When her fence was in sight, he dug down through the snow and buried the catnip beneath a layer of dead leaves to protect it from the cold. He was still panting from his run when he leaped onto the fence and called out to Princess. Then he scrambled back down into the woods to wait for her.
The snow made his paws ache with cold as he paced restlessly under an oak tree. Perhaps she is kitting, he told himself, or shut inside. He had just persuaded himself he wasn’t going to see her today when he heard her familiar mew. He looked up to see her standing on top of her fence. Fireheart felt a shiver of anticipation. Her belly was no longer swollen. Princess must have kitted.
He breathed in her scent as she approached and felt it warm him. “You’ve kitted!” he meowed.
Princess gently touched his nose with hers. “Yes,” she mewed softly.
“Did it go okay? Are the kits all right?”
Princess purred. “It was fine. I have five healthy kits,” she meowed, her eyes glowing with pleasure. Fireheart licked her head and she mewed, “I didn’t expect to see you out in this weather.”
“I came to find some catnip,” Fireheart told her. “There’s greencough in the camp.”
Princess’s eyes clouded with worry. “Are many of your Clan ill?”
“Three so far.” Fireheart hesitated for a moment, then meowed sadly, “Our leader lost another life last night.”
“Another life?” echoed Princess. “What do you mean? I thought it was only an old she-cat’s tale that cats have nine lives.”
“Bluestar was granted nine lives by StarClan because she’s leader of our Clan,” Fireheart explained.
Princess looked at him in awe. “Then it’s true!”
“Only for Clan leaders. The rest of us have only one life, like you, and like Cinderpaw…” Fireheart’s voice trailed away.
“Cinderpaw?” Princess must have detected the grief in his voice.
Fireheart gazed into her eyes, and the thoughts that had been troubling him began to tumble out. “My apprentice,” he meowed. “She was hit on the Thunderpath last night.” His voice cracked as he remembered finding her broken, bleeding body. “She’s badly hurt. She might still die. And even if she survives, she’ll never become a warrior.”
Princess moved closer and nuzzled him. “You spoke so fondly of her last time you were here,” she mewed. “She sounded full of fun and energy.”
“The accident shouldn’t have happened,” Fireheart growled. “I was supposed to meet Tigerclaw. He’d asked for Bluestar, but Bluestar was ill, so I offered to go instead. I had to fetch catnip first, and Cinderpaw went in my place.” Princess looked alarmed and Fireheart added quickly, “I told her not to. But perhaps if I’d been a better mentor she’d have listened to me.”
“I’m sure you’re a good mentor.” Princess tried to soothe him, but Fireheart hardly heard her.
“I don’t know why Tigerclaw wanted Bluestar to meet him in such a dangerous place!” he spat. “He said there was evidence that ShadowClan had invaded our territory, but when I arrived there was no scent of them at all!”
“Was it a trap?” Princess suggested.
Fireheart looked into his sister’s questioning eyes and suddenly began to wonder. “Why would Tigerclaw want to hurt Cinderpaw?”
“It was Bluestar he asked for,” Princess pointed out.
Fireheart’s fur bristled. Could his sister be right? Tigerclaw had summoned Bluestar to the narrowest part of the Thunderpath verge. Surely even Tigerclaw wouldn’t deliberately put his Clan leader in danger? Fireheart shook the thought away. “I d-don’t know,” he stammered. “Everything’s so confusing at the moment. Even Graystripe’s hardly speaking to me.”
“Why?”
Fireheart shrugged. “It’s too complicated to explain.” Princess nestled next to him in the snow, pressing her soft fur against his. “I just feel like such an outsider at the moment,” Fireheart went on gloomily. “It’s not easy being different.”
“Different?” Princess looked puzzled.
“Being born a kittypet, when the other cats are all Clanborn.”
“You seem like a Clanborn cat to me,” mewed Princess. Fireheart blinked gratefully at her. She went on, “But if you’re not happy in the Clan, you can always come home with me. My housefolk would look after you, I’m sure.”
Fireheart pictured himself living his old kittypet life, warm, cozy, and safe. But he couldn’t forget how he’d watched the woods from his Twoleg garden and dreamed of being out in the forest. A breeze stirred his thick fur and carried the scent of a mouse to his nose. Fireheart shook his head firmly. “Thank you, Princess,” he meowed. “But I belong with my Clan now. I could never be happy in a Twoleg nest. I would miss the scents of the forest, and sleeping beneath Silverpelt, hunting my own food and sharing it with my Clan.”
His sister’s eyes gleamed. “It sounds like a good life,” she purred. She looked down shyly at her paws. “Sometimes even I stare into the forest and wonder what it feels like to live out there.”
Fireheart purred and stood up. “Then you understand?”
Princess nodded. “Are you going back now?”
“Yes. I must take the catnip to Yellowfang while it’s fresh.”
Princess stretched her head forward to press her muzzle into his side. “Perhaps my kits will be strong enough to meet you next time you come,” she mewed.
Excitement tingled in Fireheart’s belly. “I hope so!” he meowed.
As he turned to leave, Princess called, “Take care, brother. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t,” Fireheart promised.
“Good thinking, Fireheart,” purred Whitestorm. He had seen Fireheart pad back into camp with his jaws crammed with catnip.
Fireheart’s mouth had been watering all the way home, although he was beginning to think he’d be happy never to see another catnip bush again. But he was happier than when he’d left the camp. His sister had safely kitted and his head felt clearer.
He was heading toward Yellowfang’s den when Tigerclaw appeared at his side.
“More catnip?” observed the great tabby, his eyes suspicious. “I wondered where you’d gone. Brackenpaw can take that to Yellowfang.”
Brackenpaw was helping to clear away snow nearby.
“Come and take this catnip to Yellowfang,” Tigerclaw ordered the apprentice.
Brackenpaw nodded and bounded over at once.
Fireheart dropped the bunch of leaves onto the ground. “I wanted to visit Cinderpaw,” he meowed to Tigerclaw.
“Later,” growled the deputy. He waited while Brackenpaw picked up the catnip and carried it off to Yellowfang’s den. Then he turned back to Fireheart. “I want to know where Graystripe has been going.”
Fireheart felt the heat rising under his fur. “I don’t know,” he replied, holding Tigerclaw’s gaze.
Tigerclaw stared back at him, his eyes cold and hostile. “When you see him,” he hissed, “you can tell him he’s confined to the fallen oak.”
“Yellowfang’s old den?” Fireheart glanced at the tangled branches where the medicine cat had lived when she first came into the ThunderClan camp, when she was still considered a ShadowClan outcast. Swiftpaw was there, lying beside Speckletail’s dark tabby kit.
“Cats with whitecough are confined there until they are well again.”