Behind her came Ferncloud with her two kits, who dashed off with squeals of excitement toward the nearest puddle.
“Shrewkit! Spiderkit! Come back at once,” Ferncloud scolded them.
The two kits sat down at the edge of the water, but they kept shooting glances at their mother and dabbing the surface with an outstretched paw. Firestar watched, amused, as their father, Dustpelt, padded over to them, said something sternly to them, then went to sit by Ferncloud. Barely a heartbeat passed before a tiny paw flashed out again.
“Spiderkit!” Dustpelt called, loud enough for Firestar to hear him. “What did I just tell you?”
Both kits glanced at their father and then went scampering off, tiny tails stuck high in the air. Soon Shrewkit found a ball of sodden moss lying on the ground. Hooking it up with one paw he tossed it at his brother; Spiderkit ducked, and the moss sailed over his head and struck Speckletail right in the chest. The tabby elder sprang to her paws, batting at soaking chest fur with one paw, and letting out a furious hiss. Though Speckletail could be cranky, Firestar knew she would never harm a kit, but Spiderkit and Shrewkit weren’t sure of that.
They flattened themselves to the ground and crept backward to sit beside their mother and father.
Firestar had missed the moment when Bramblepaw emerged from the apprentice’s den. Now he was approaching the base of the rock; as Firestar was his mentor, he was escorted to his warrior ceremony by Graystripe, the Clan deputy, instead. His brown tabby pelt was groomed to shining sleekness, and his amber eyes looked solemnly up at his leader.
Firestar leaped down from the Highrock to meet him.
Close to him, he could see that Bramblepaw’s serious expression hid an almost unbearable excitement. He realized how much this ceremony meant to his apprentice; had
Bramblepaw sometimes doubted that he would ever be accepted into ThunderClan as a full warrior?
Firestar summoned up the words that had been spoken to every apprentice in the forest for season upon season. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” Meeting Bramblepaw’s gaze, he went on. “Bramblepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”
“I do.” No cat could doubt how much Bramblepaw meant it.
“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Firestar continued, “I give you your warrior name: Bramblepaw, from this moment you will be known as Brambleclaw. StarClan honors your courage and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”
Brambleclaw’s eyes widened as Firestar spoke of his loyalty, and Firestar felt his fur prickle with the weight of meaning behind that word. He had never doubted Brambleclaw’s commitment to the warrior code, but he had often struggled to trust the son of Tigerstar. He could see a few of the other cats murmuring to one another, as if they too understood why he had chosen to mention loyalty in Brambleclaw’s warrior ceremony.
Taking a pace closer, Firestar rested his muzzle on the top of Brambleclaw’s head. He could feel shivers running all through the new warrior’s body. Brambleclaw licked Firestar’s shoulder in response, then stepped back, his eyes glowing.
“Brambleclaw! Brambleclaw!”
His Clanmates greeted him with his new name. In spite of being Tigerstar’s son, he was popular in the Clan, and most cats were pleased that he had become a warrior at last.
Firestar took a couple of paces back, his gaze drifting to the puddle a couple of tail-lengths away where Shrewkit and Spiderkit had been playing. The surface had stilled since they dabbed at it, and now it was a shining silver disk on the ground. It was reflecting an odd-shaped cloud…
Firestar blinked. That was not a cloud. It was a cat’s face: a pale gray cat, with white patches on its fur and huge water-colored eyes, staring straight at him. A wisp of the same unfamiliar scent that he had detected in the ravine drifted around him.
“Who are you?” Firestar whispered. “What do you want?”
There was a high-pitched shriek of excitement as Shrewkit launched himself into the air and landed in the middle of the puddle, splashing every cat within reach and shattering the reflection into tiny fragments.
Firestar looked up: the sky above the ravine was blue and cloudless. He glanced around, half-embarrassed, hoping that none of his Clanmates had seen him talking to a puddle. But as he watched the cats who were still crowding around Brambleclaw, he couldn’t get the gray cat’s face out of his mind.
Firestar led the evening patrol as far as Tallpines and Twolegplace, still wary of possible trouble from BloodClan on that side of the territory. Night had fallen by the time he and his Clanmates returned. As he emerged into the camp from the gorse tunnel, he found Brambleclaw sitting alone in the middle of the clearing.
“He must be tired out,” Sandstorm murmured sympathetically. “He was out late with you last night, doing his assessment, and he hunted with Ashfur and Graystripe all afternoon.”
“He’ll be fine,” Firestar replied. “All new warriors sit vigil the first night.”
“So the rest of us can get a good night’s sleep.” Cloudtail, the other member of the patrol, stretched and yawned.
Leaving his mate and his kin to head for the fresh-kill pile, Firestar strode out into the clearing toward Brambleclaw.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Brambleclaw nodded; according to tradition a new warrior had to keep his vigil in silence. He was obviously bursting with pride, and taking his new responsibilities very seriously.
“Good,” mewed Firestar. “Don’t hesitate to fetch me if there’s trouble.”
Brambleclaw nodded again, and fixed his gaze on the entrance to the thorn tunnel. Firestar left him there and returned to his den. He curled up in his nest, but the moment he closed his eyes he found himself back on the mist-covered moorland, with the wails of cats shivering in his ears. No! He could not spend another night listening helplessly to their terror.
Struggling back to wakefulness, Firestar stumbled out into the clearing again. Brambleclaw still sat in solitary vigil, while Sandstorm was heading across the clearing toward the warriors’ den. As soon as she spotted Firestar she veered aside to join him.
“Is anything the matter?” she asked. “Can’t you sleep?”
“I feel restless, that’s all,” Firestar replied, reluctant to tell even Sandstorm about the dream. “I’m going for a walk.”
Suddenly longing for the warmth of her company, he added, “Do you want to come with me?”
He was sure his desperation must have shown in his eyes, but Sandstorm just nodded. She crossed the camp beside him and followed him out through the gorse tunnel. Without consciously deciding, Firestar turned his paws toward Sunningrocks, the tumble of smooth gray boulders beside the river that divided ThunderClan territory from RiverClan.
They climbed one of the rocks and sat side by side, watching the water whisper past, dappled with starlight.
After a moment, Sandstorm broke the silence. “Are you worried about Brambleclaw? About whether you were right to make him a warrior?”
Her question surprised Firestar. Did his Clanmates think he still distrusted Brambleclaw because of who his father was? The surprise was followed by a sense of guilt that they were so close to being right.
“No,” he answered, trying to make his voice firm.
“Brambleclaw is not the same cat as his father.”
To his relief, Sandstorm didn’t push him to tell her what was really on his mind. She just leaned her head on his shoulder; her scent wreathed around him as they gazed together at the river of reflected starlight.