Runningwind’s eyes glittered with annoyance and he looked unconvinced by Fireheart’s promise. Fireheart was about to apologize again when he saw Runningwind’s expression turn to disbelief as Cloudpaw scampered into the camp, a squirrel grasped in his jaws. The apprentice’s eyes shone with pride at the catch, which was almost as big as he was. Runningwind snorted with exasperation.
“I’ll sort it out,” Fireheart meowed quickly. He sensed Runningwind had plenty more to say about Cloudpaw, but the warrior just nodded and padded away.
Fireheart watched the white cat carry his squirrel to the fresh-kill pile. Cloudpaw dropped it and wandered toward the apprentices’ den without taking any food for himself, even though there was plenty of prey. With a sinking feeling, Fireheart guessed that Cloudpaw had already eaten while out hunting. How many times could Cloudpaw break the warrior code in a single day? he wondered irritably.
“Cloudpaw!” called Fireheart.
Cloudpaw looked up. “What?” he mewed.
“I want to talk to you.”
As Cloudpaw padded slowly toward him, Fireheart was uncomfortably aware of Runningwind watching from outside the warriors’ den.
“Did you eat while out hunting?” he demanded as soon as Cloudpaw neared.
Cloudpaw shrugged. “So what if I did? I was hungry.”
“What does the warrior code tell us about eating before the Clan is fed?”
Cloudpaw looked at the treetops. “If it’s anything like the rest of the code, it’ll tell me I can’t,” he muttered.
Fireheart pushed away his rising exasperation. “Did you fetch that pigeon?”
“I couldn’t. It was gone.”
With a shock Fireheart realized he didn’t know if he believed Cloudpaw or not. He decided there was no point pursuing it. “Why didn’t you go hunting with Runningwind?” he asked instead.
“He was taking too long to get ready. Anyway, I prefer hunting alone!”
“You’re still just an apprentice,” Fireheart reminded him sternly. “You’ll learn better if you hunt with a warrior.”
Cloudpaw sighed and nodded. “Yes, Fireheart.”
Fireheart had no idea if Cloudpaw had really listened or not. “You’ll never be given your warrior name if you carry on like this! How do you think you’ll feel watching Ashpaw’s and Fernpaw’s naming ceremonies when you’re still an apprentice?”
“That’ll never happen,” Cloudpaw argued.
“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Fireheart told him. “You’ll be staying at camp while they go to the next Gathering.”
Finally Fireheart seemed to have Cloudpaw’s attention. The white-haired apprentice stared up at him in disbelief. “But—” he began.
“When I report this to Bluestar, I think she’ll agree with me,” Fireheart interrupted him fiercely. “Now, go away!”
Tail down, Cloudpaw padded off toward the other apprentices, who were watching from outside their den. Fireheart didn’t even bother looking to see if Runningwind had witnessed the scene. Right now he didn’t care what the Clan thought of his apprentice. The opinions of the other cats seemed to pale into insignificance next to his growing fear that Cloudpaw would never become a true warrior.
Chapter 7
“Bluestar, it’s been a quarter moon since we returned from the uplands.” Fireheart carefully avoided mentioning the Moonstone. Even though they were alone in her den, he still felt uncomfortable mentioning their fruitless expedition. “There’s been no sign of WindClan in our territory, or ShadowClan.” Bluestar narrowed her eyes disbelievingly but Fireheart pressed on. “There are so many apprentices in training, and the woods are so full of prey, that it is hard to keep three warriors in camp all the time. I…I think two would be plenty.”
“But what if we’re attacked again?” Bluestar fretted.
“If WindClan really intended to harm ThunderClan,” Fireheart pointed out, “Mudclaw wouldn’t have let you leave the uplands…” alive, he finished silently, letting his words trail away.
“Okay.” Bluestar nodded, her eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “Only two warriors need stay in camp.”
“Thanks, Bluestar.” This was going to make the task of organizing all the guards, hunting parties, and apprentice training much easier. “I’ll go and sort out tomorrow’s patrols.” Fireheart dipped his head respectfully and left the den.
Outside the warriors were waiting for him. “Whitestorm, you lead the dawn patrol,” Fireheart ordered. “Take Sandstorm and Ashpaw with you. Brackenfur, Dustpelt, you’ll guard the camp while I’m hunting with Cloudpaw.” He looked around at the remaining warriors, realizing how much more confident he felt about arranging the patrols. He’d had a lot of practice since Bluestar stayed in her den so much nowadays. Pushing away the unsettling thought, Fireheart went on: “I’ll leave it up to the rest of you whether you train your apprentices or take them hunting, but I want the fresh-kill pile as full as it is today. We’re getting used to eating well!” An amused purr ran through the group of warriors. “Darkstripe, you lead tomorrow’s sunhigh patrol. Runningwind, you take sunset. You can choose who you take with you; just be sure to let them know so they can be ready in time.”
Runningwind nodded, but Darkstripe’s eyes glittered and he asked, “Who will be going to the Gathering tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Fireheart admitted.
Darkstripe narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t Bluestar tell you, or hasn’t she decided yet?”
“She hasn’t discussed it with me,” Fireheart answered. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”
Darkstripe turned his head and stared into the shadowy trees. “She’d better tell us soon. The sun is starting to set.”
“Then you should be eating,” Fireheart told him. “You’ll need your strength for the Gathering, if you’re going.” Darkstripe’s tone made him uneasy, but he refused to let it ruffle his fur. He sat down and waited for the warriors to move away. Only when they had all gone did he turn back to Bluestar’s den. She hadn’t mentioned the Gathering, and he’d been too busy worrying about tomorrow’s patrols to remember it.
“Ah, Fireheart.” Bluestar met him as she was pushing her way out through the lichen. She looked as if she’d just finished washing, and her pelt glowed in the dusky light. Fireheart felt a jolt of relief that she seemed to be taking care of herself once more. “When you’ve eaten, call the warriors together for the Gathering.”
“Er…who shall I call?” Fireheart asked.
Bluestar looked surprised. She listed the names so easily—leaving out Cloudpaw and including Ashpaw, as he’d requested several days earlier—that Fireheart wondered if perhaps she’d already told him, and he’d forgotten.
“Yes, Bluestar,” he answered. He dipped his head and padded across the clearing to the fresh-kill pile. A fat pigeon had been left on the heap. He decided to leave it for Bluestar. Perhaps this might tempt her to eat more than two mouthfuls. He picked up a vole, not feeling very hungry himself. He was too unsettled by Bluestar’s shifting, patternless moods.
As Fireheart carried the vole back to his favorite eating place, a shiver ran along his spine. Instinctively he looked over his shoulder, and he felt a prickle of apprehension as he saw Bramblekit watching him. He recalled Cinderpelt’s words: He will never know his father. It will be the Clan that raises him. Fireheart forced himself to nod at the kit, then turned away and padded to the clump of nettles to eat.
When he’d finished his meal, Fireheart glanced around the clearing. The rest of the Clan was sharing tongues as night stretched out the shadows and brought a welcome coolness to the camp. The days had been so hot lately that Fireheart had found himself wishing more and more that he could swim like the RiverClan cats. He looked over at the apprentices’ den, wondering if Cloudpaw would remember that he wasn’t going to the Gathering because he had eaten while out hunting.