“Firestar! We’re going to practice Brightheart’s fighting moves. Do you want to see how she’s coming on?”
“Yes, of course—go ahead.” Even though Brightheart’s wounds were healed, Firestar found it hard to think of her as a fighting cat. He couldn’t imagine she would ever be able to go into battle with her Clan. But since her change of name she looked much happier and more confident, and he wanted to encourage her as much as he could.
Cloudtail and Brightheart ran into the middle of the hollow. For a few heartbeats they prowled around each other; then Cloudtail darted in and gave Brightheart a couple of blows with sheathed paws on the blind side of her head. Brightheart rolled with the impact and Firestar tensed, imagining the damage an enemy cat might have done with his claws out and all his strength behind the blow.
But instead of rolling away from Cloudtail, Brightheart propelled herself toward him, tangling her paws with his and throwing him off balance. Firestar pricked his ears with interest as the two cats writhed together on the ground, and suddenly Brighthear pinning Cloudtail down with one paw on his neck.
“I’ve never seen that before,” Firestar meowed, padding over to join them as Brightheart released Cloudtail and the young white warrior jumped up and shook sand out of his pelt. “Brightheart, try it on me.”
Looking nervous, Brightheart faced him. Firestar found it harder than he had expected to come up on her blind side; the young she-cat kept weaving back and forth so that he had to change his position. When at last he leaped at her, she slid under his outstretched paws and tripped him in the same way that she had surprised Cloudtail. For a few heartbeats they wrestled together until at last Firestar managed to hold her down.
“harder than it looks, isn’t it?” meowed Cloudtail, strolling up beside them with a delighted expression.
“It certainly is. Well done, Brightheart.” Firestar let the she-cat get up; her uninjured eye was shining at his praise. For the first time he began to wonder if she had a future as a warrior after all. “Keep practicing,” he told her. “And let me watch you again soon. I think you might have something to teach the Clan.”
After the storm, the weather turned cold again. Every morning the grass and ferns were furred with frost, and there was another light fall of snow. Prey became scarcer still, and what the hunters managed to catch was thin and scrawny, scarcely a mouthful for a hungry cat.
“If I don’t get a decent meal soon I’ll fade away to a shadow,” Graystripe complained.
He and Firestar were on patrol not far from Fourtrees, along with Longtail and Thornclaw. Firestar had hoped they would find more prey farther from the camp, where the fire had never reached, but the catch was pitifully small.
“I’m going to try down by the stream,” Firestar meowed.
He headed down the slope to where a thicker growth of fern and shrubs marked the line of the stream. When he paused to taste the air the prey-scent was faint, and he could not hear any of the small sounds that would have alerted him to creatures scurrying through the grass.
With so little fresh-kill, the Clan was growing weaker by the day. Just enduring leaf-bare would be hard enough, but on top of that there was the new threat from TigerClan. Would they be strong enough to defend themselves? Firestar wondered.
His pawsteps led him by instinct down toward the stream and he crouched down to drink, prodding the thin ice at the very edge and shaking icy drops off his paw when it gave way.
As Firestar bent his head to lap from the stream, the sun came out behind him, striking through the leaves. Light dazzled on the water and surrounded Firestar’s reflection with golden rays. For a moment the image of his head disappeared, to be replaced by that of a roaring lion. It was the beast Firestar had heard described in so many elders’ tales, his flame-colored pelt blazing into a luxuriant mane, his eyes shining with unlimited strength and power.
Startled, Firestar leaped backward. He let out a yowl as he collided with a tree and stumbled into the dead leaves among its roots. When he looked up, Spottedleaf was facing him from across the stream.
The beautiful tortoiseshell’s eyes were brimming with amusement, and she let out a little mrrow of laughter.
“Spottedleaf!” Firestar gasped. She had never come to him before when he was awake, and he wondered what this might mean. He sprang to his paws, ready to splash through the stream to her side, but she signaled with her tail for him to stay where he was.
“Take heed of what you have seen, Firestar,” she told him, her amusement vanishing like the frost at dawn. “Learn what you must be.”
“What do you mean?” Firestar asked urgently.
But as she finished speaking, Spottedleaf began to fade. Her eyes rested on him, filled with love, and her body paled until Firestar could see the bank of the stream through it.
“Spottedleaf, don’t leave me yet,” he begged. “I need you.”
But her eyes shone for a heartbeat longer, and then she was gone.
“Firestar!” It was Graystripe’s voice. Firestar shook his head to clear it and turned to face his friend as he came padding down the bank.
“Are you okay?” Graystripe asked. “You yowled loud enough to scare all the prey between here and Fourtrees!”
“I’m fine,” Firestar replied. “So m e thing startled me, that’s all.”
Graystripe examined him for a moment longer, as if he wasn’t quite satisfied with his leader’s explanation, and then turned away. “If you say so,” he meowed, retreating up the bank. “Come and see the rabbit Longtail caught—it’s as big as a fox!”
Firestar stayed where he was. He was still trembling from the shock of his vision. He had seen himself like one of the Great warriors of old, a member of LionClan. Bluestar’s prophecy echoed in his head again: Lion and Tiger will meet in battle.
Did this mean that a new Clan—LionClan—would arise to combat TigerClan? And did StarClan intend Firestar to lead it?
Chapter 14
“Firestar,” meowed Graystripe. “I want to ask you something.”
Firestar was crouching by the nettle patch. He had just seen Brackenfur leaving at the head of the evening patrol, and now he was eating his share of fresh-kill before rounding up a patrol of his own for an extra check on the ShadowClan border.
“Sure,” he replied. “What is it?”
Graystripe crouched beside him, but before he could speak Tawnypaw came stalking out of the elders’ den, her head and her tail held high as she headed for the gorse tunnel. Her amber eyes blazed with anger. Bramblepaw emerged behind her, his jaws clamped on a bundle of bedding moss. He looked worried.
“Tawnypaw!” Firestar called. “What’s the matter?”
For a heartbeat he thought the apprentice was going to ignore him. Then she veered sharply to stand in front of him. “Smallear!” she spat. “If ever a cat asked to have his fur clawed off—”
“You shouldn’t talk like that about an elder,” Firestar rebuked her. “Smallear’s given good service to the Clan and we should respect that.”
“What about a bit of respect for me?” Tawnypaw was so furious she seemed to have forgotten she was talking to her leader. “Just because I was a little late going to clear out the old bedding, Smallear said that Tigerstar had never wanted to serve the elders either, and he could see I was going to turn out just like my father.” She scraped her claws on the sandy floor of the clearing as if she were picturing the old tom’s fur. “It’s not the first time he’s said things, either. I don’t see why I should have to put up with it!”
While she was speaking, Bramblepaw had come to join them, putting down the moss he was carrying. “You know Smallear’s joints are aching because of the cold weather,” he meowed.