cats. Bluestar would get over it, he told himself. Meanwhile, he had to hide her anxiety from the other cats. If the Clan was already uneasy, as Whitestorm had said, seeing Bluestar like this would only make them more alarmed.
Fireheart flexed his shoulder muscles and padded toward the nursery. âHi, Willowpelt,â he meowed as he reached the queen. The pale gray she-cat was lying on her side outside the thicket of brambles that sheltered the kits, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
She lifted her head as Fireheart stopped beside her. âHi, Fireheart. Howâs life as a deputy?â Her eyes were gently curious and her voice was friendly, not challenging.
âFine,â Fireheart told her. Or it would be, if I didnât have a pain in the neck for an apprentice , he thought with frustration, or the elders fretting about the wrath of StarClan, or a leader who canât even decide who should mentor Brindlefaceâs kits.
âGlad to hear it,â purred Willowpelt. She twisted her head to wash her back.
âIs Brindleface around?â Fireheart asked.
âSheâs inside,â Willowpelt meowed between licks.
âThanks.â Fireheart pushed his way into the brambles. It was surprisingly bright inside. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the twisted branches, and Fireheart told himself he would have to get the holes patched before the cold winds of leaf-fall.
âHi, Brindleface,â he meowed. âGood news! Bluestar says the naming ceremony for your kits will be this evening.â
Brindleface was lying on her side while her two pale gray kits clambered over her. âThank StarClan for that!â she grunted as the heavier of the kits, his fur speckled with dark flecks, sprang off his motherâs flank and flung himself at his sister. âThese two are getting too big for the nursery.â
The kits tumbled over and rolled against their motherâs back in a tangle of paws and tails. Brindleface gently shoved the kits away from her and asked, âDo you know who their mentors will be?â
Fireheart was already prepared for this question. âBluestar hasnât decided yet,â he explained. âAre there any warriors youâd prefer?â
Brindleface looked surprised. âBluestar will know best; she should decide.â
Fireheart knew as well as any cat that it was traditional for the Clan leader to select mentors. âYes, youâre right,â he meowed heavily.
His fur prickled as the breeze carried the odor of Tigerclawâs tabby kit to his scent glands. âWhereâs Goldenflower?â he asked Brindleface, more sharply than he intended.
Her eyes widened. âSheâs taken her kits to meet the elders,â she replied. She narrowed her eyes at Fireheart. âYou recognize Tigerclaw in his son, donât you?â
Fireheart nodded uncomfortably.
âHe has his fatherâs looks, but thatâs all,â Brindleface assured him. âHeâs gentle enough with the other kits, and hissister certainly keeps him in his place!â
âWell, thatâs good.â Fireheart turned away. âIâll see you later at the ceremony,â he meowed as he pushed his way back through the entrance.
âDoes this mean Bluestarâs decided when the naming ceremony should be?â Willowpelt called over to him when he appeared outside.
âYes,â he answered.
âWho will be their menâ¦?â
But Fireheart trotted away before he could hear the rest of Willowpeltâs question. News of the naming ceremony would spread through the camp like forest fire, and every cat would want to know the same thing. Fireheart would have to decide soon, but his nostrils were still filled with the scent of Bramblekit, and his mind whirled as dark thoughts unfolded sinister wings within him.
Instinctively he headed for the fern tunnel that led to the medicine catâs clearing. Yellowfangâs apprentice,
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley