Chapter Text
Fireheart and Tigerclaw follow Cinderpaw and Greystripe to Sunningrocks. Greystripe is impatient, frequently sprinting ahead and then stopping, and Cinderpaw’s ears are flat against her head.
“What do you know about this?” Tigerclaw asks, a low growl in his voice.
Fireheart hesitates. “I knew Greystripe was…” He looks ahead at his friend. They haven’t had a proper conversation, not since they fought about this very matter. “I knew he met her,” he admits. “I thought they stopped.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
“I thought they stopped!” Fireheart sighs. “I didn’t think he’d take it this far.”
Tigerclaw doesn’t say anything, and Fireheart pulls head, standing next to Cinderpaw. She’s carrying a mouthful of herbs, but she glances at him.
”You can do this.”
Cinderpaw turns back to facing forward, and he hopes it’s not because she’s arguing with him in her head.
“Silverstream!” Greystripe calls, his voice thick with fear. He doesn’t bother pretending they don’t know each other, crouching beside her and staring into her eyes.
Cinderpaw springs into action. “Fireheart! Come here.”
He scrambles onto the rocks, and she passes him a wet bundle of fur that barely passes for a kit.
“You need to groom it, get its blood moving.” She turns back to Silverstream. “There’s another coming,” Cinderpaw says, her voice gentle and encouraging. “You’re doing very well.”
Fireheart focuses on the kit, rasping his tongue over its tiny body until it takes its first breath, opening its tiny mouth, too weak to even properly lift its head.
“That’s right,” Cinderpaw says to Silverstream. “Almost done.”
A moment later, Cinderpaw yelps in joy, and then whirls. “Tigerclaw! You take this one.”
His lip curls. “In case you forgot, I’m not a medic.”
“No, but you don’t want the kit to die.” She thrusts it at him, and he takes it uncertainly.
“What do I—”
“You’ve got tongue, haven’t you? Lick, you useless lump of fur.”
Tigerclaw’s eyes blaze, but he dips his head dutifully.
Featherkit and Stormkit nurse with the others.
“It’s not too much for you?”
Goldenflower swats at Tigerclaw with her tail. “You’re too much for me.” There’s a mix of affection and exhaustion in her voice.
“I don’t want—”
“Tigerclaw,” she says. “I can do this. Your worry helps no one.”
Fireheart watches, forgotten.
Greystripe’s ears droop at the way the Clan looks at him, and Fireheart sighs, well-aware the support his friend is looking for doesn’t exist.
“I know it was wrong,” Greystripe murmurs. “But I didn’t expect…”
“What did you think the Clan would do?” There’s no small amount of bitterness to Fireheart’s words. He warned Greystripe, only to be ignored — only for Greystripe to go as far as accusing Fireheart of being unsupportive, and now, when Greystripe
Greystripe shrugs. “Fireheart, I…Silverstream is dead. You don’t need to rub it in.”
Fireheart thinks of Tigerclaw, and losing him, and looks at Greystripe’s expression. His ears aren’t drooped in shame, they’re drooped in grief. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine…”
“It’s — I’m…I don’t need my friend telling me I was dumb or that I made a dumb decision. Trust me. I already know.”
Fireheart licks Greystripe’s cheek. “I know. I’m just…we can talk later.” He glances towards the nursery. “Goldenflower is nursing your kits, by the way.”
That night, Fireheart pulls the older three kits against him, so Goldenflower can focus her attention on Featherkit and Stormkit. Cloudkit is eager to cuddle against Fireheart’s chest, and Tawnykit and Bramblekit tangle at his flank. They’re both purring softly, and Fireheart lays his tail over them protectively.
They’re his kits, as much as they’re Goldenflower and Tigerclaw’s.
The realization is startling, but not surprising — he has, after all, been raising them — and as he watches their chests rise and fall, as Cloudkit’s paws knead into his fur, and Bramblekit starts to suckle on his sister’s fur, Fireheart can’t imagine being anywhere else.
In the morning, Greystripe forces his way into the nursery, eager to see his kits. Cloudkit, Bramblekit, and Tawnykit are all in a nest with Fireheart, trying to give Featherkit and Stormkit a chance to nurse in peace.
Not that Greystripe helps with that.
“Are they getting enough milk? They’re so small.”
Goldenflower purrs in amusement. “They’re young. But they’ll grow.”
Fireheart looks at the three bundles of fur who have fallen asleep next to him. Tawnykit’s paws are tangled in his belly fur, and Bramblekit is half-draped over Cloudkit.
“They’re beautiful,” Greystripe breathes.
“You shouldn’t be so friendly with Greystripe,” Tigerclaw warns.
“He’s my friend! His mate just died!”
“I understand…” Tigerclaw sighs, like he struggles to find a way to explain. “He is young, Fireheart. Emotions always feel hot when you are young. But sharing prey on Sunningrocks did not make Silverstream and Greystripe mates. It made them traitors.”
Frustrated, Fireheart’s tail begins to fluff, and it brushes back and forth on the ground. “I’m not saying it was right, just…”
”The pain Greystripe feels, my ember, is the natural consequence of his actions. If you want to be a good friend, let him feel it, so he can learn.” Tigerclaw licks Fireheart’s forehead. “Besides. I don’t want you seeming sympathetic to traitors.”
His eyes closed in approach to sleep, Fireheart listens as Lynxpaw plays with her siblings. She used to come by often, but the brindled she-cat had to be dragged here by Swiftpaw, and judging by her less than enthusiastic comments, she’s only playing for the kits’ amusement.
“I miss you,” Goldenflower says. “You should come by more.”
“I’m busy training,” Lynxpaw says. The young cat’s voice is oddly strained. “I’m trying to be the best warrior I can.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have time for your mother anymore.”
Lynxpaw doesn’t respond, but at the familiar sound of a kit landing on the ground, hard as a rock, she gives a soft chirp. “Nice job, Tawnykit. I’ve got to go.”
Fireheart can feel Goldenflower watching her daughter leave, and wonders if he should do anything.
Greystripe keeps visiting his kits.
It’s infuriating, crowding the already cramped nursery, but it’s also endearing. His kits aren’t even old enough to hear, but he tells them how much he cares for them constantly.
“Greystripe,” Goldenflower says, the kind of gentle that means masking irritation. “They are young kits. That means they need rest, not you sticking your face into them constantly.”
Greystripe’s ears fold. “I just—”
“Get some air,” Goldenflower encourages. “We’ll still be here in the morning.”
Greystripe churrs. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. Sleep well, then.”
“How come he can’t stay?” Tawnykit asks. “Fireheart stays with us.”
“Because Greystripe is just being a nuisance.” Goldenflower looks at Fireheart with more kindness than usual. “Fireheart’s helping raise you.”
“If RiverClan wants them, they should have them!”
Greystripe flinches at the fervor in Tigerclaw’s voice.
Caught between friend and mate, Fireheart hopes neither of them call for a response to this.
“I’m their father,” Greystripe protests. “I have a right to them.”
“Not over the mother!”
(Fireheart thinks of Cloudkit.)
Greystripe searches for support, but the Clan keeps quiet.
They don’t want these kits.
“Come hunting with me,” Fireheart purrs, nuzzling Tigerclaw’s shoulder.
“Fireheart…”
“It’s been so long since we’ve done anything together.” He blinks up at Tigerclaw, pleading. “Surely you still have some time for me, deputy.”
Tigerclaw purrs, dipping his head. Fireheart steals a lick on his forehead, and Tigerclaw rests his chin on Fireheart’s head. “How are the kits doing?” he asks, his voice a low rumble Fireheart can feel.
“They’re good. Mostly sleeping; Goldenflower says that’s normal.”
Tigerclaw licks behind Fireheart’s ear. He’s normally embarrassed by this much affection in public, but they really haven’t seen much of each other lately. “I’m supposed to observe Brightpaw and Thornpaw,” he says. “I don’t suppose you can wait until moonrise.”
Fireheart pretends to think, closing his eyes and listening to Tigerclaw’s breathing. “I suppose I can,” he says. “If you insist.”
“It’s a date.”
Fireheart rolls onto his back, stretching out his limbs and exposing his soft stomach. His eyes were closed, but he opens one a whisker. He yawns, his tail curling next to him. “I thought you were busy,” he teases. “Surely the deputy of ThunderClan has better things to do than watch me sleep.”
Tigerclaw purrs, nuzzling under Fireheart’s chin. “Not right now, I don’t. It’s the middle of the day — patrols won’t go out again until moonrise.”
Fireheart makes a pleased sound, tilting his head back, and Tigerclaw runs his temple against Fireheart’s jaw. “So you do have time to nap with me.”
“Maybe,” Tigerclaw teases. He drapes his tail over Fireheart’s belly, and licks Fireheart’s temple. “I was enjoying myself before.”
“You weren’t even sleeping.”
“I was with you.”
“Yeah,” Fireheart says. “Watching.” He pauses. “Creep.” Fireheart opens both eyes, amusement glittering.
Putting on air of insult, Tigerclaw presses his muzzle to Fireheart’s throat. “What, me?” he purrs. “Never.” He licks the side of Fireheart’s neck. “I just like seeing my kitten happy.”
He’s in the nursery when the rogues attack, but the sound of battle calls him out. Goldenflower crouches over the kits, her fur bushed out and her eyes terrifyingly dark. Fireheart doesn’t have to fear for their safety.
The Clan is locked in combat, and he searches for somewhere to fight. He didn’t spend moons training with Tigerclaw to be useless in a battle.
“Tigerclaw said there were rogues approaching Bluestar,” Whitestorm calls. “See if he needs help.”
Fireheart nods, and he slips through the crowd, hoping he’s not too late. Tigerclaw might be a formidable fighter, but if it was a group of rogues, he might not win — and with Bluestar’s health in flux, she might not be very much support. The sounds of scuffles don’t deter him: if anything, they edge him on.
He explodes into the gap before Bluestar’s den, and pauses. He can’t hear much from her den, but he can’t see past the lichen either. Nervous about what he’ll find, he pushes in, blinking once as his eyes rapidly adjust to the dim light.
Tigerclaw stands over Bluestar’s body, and her eyes are glassy and blank and dead.
“What happened?” he chokes out.
“A rogue got in,” Tigerclaw says. “I was too late to save her.”
There is not the scent of another cat in the den, and the fur beneath Bluestar’s claws is dark brown.
“I should have…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve been more insistent about guards, or…” Tigerclaw meets Fireheart’s eyes. His paws have blood on them. His expression is desolate.
“You couldn’t have known,” Fireheart says. “It’s not your fault.”
Fireheart waits for Tigerstar and Yellowfang to return from the Moonstone. Goldenflower is sleeping with the kits, and he is—
Mostly, he doesn’t want to sleep.
He’s the first cat to see Tigerstar enter camp. The tabby gives him a twitch of his whiskers, and Cinderpelt pushes past him without a word. She does meet Fireheart’s eyes before retreating to her den, but says nothing. Fireheart isn’t the only cat awake, and the others start to crowd Tigerstar, interrupting the quiet moment. He slips through the throng to stand at Tigerstar’s side.
“How do you feel?”
“Never been better.” Tigerstar nuzzles him, licking his jaw. “I’ve got announcements to make.”
Tigerstar ascends to call his first meeting as leader, and Fireheart sits, just watching. The mid-morning light shines through his coat, making his stripes more vivid, and he looks nothing short of magnificent. All of ThunderClan hastens to his cry, and Goldenflower brings the kits a little further forward.
“My Clan,” he says. “I am ready to lead ThunderClan into a new era.” He takes a deep breath. “Losing Bluestar is, of course, a great tragedy. She was one of the best warriors ThunderClan has known, and I hope I can follow in her pawsteps…but not too closely, of course.” The glimmer of humor begins to lessen tensions. “With that in mind, the first thing I want to say is — Blackfoot was the cat who warned us of the rogue attack, and I would like to acknowledge that.”
Tigerstar pauses as a ripple passes through ThunderClan.
“I know, I know. But he’s a good cat, who was just caught up by a bad leader, and he’s done ThunderClan a great favor.”
“He would’ve done more if he had warned us with enough time to save Bluestar,” Sandstorm mutters, her tail sweeping back and forth. Dustpelt lays his over hers, calming it.
“He probably did the best he could.”
Sandstorm seems unconvinced, but she turns her attention back to Tigerstar’s continued speech.
“Now, for a deputy. I say these words before StarClan, so that their spirits may hear and approve this choice. The new deputy of ThunderClan is Fireheart.”
Fireheart jolts. He assumed Tigerstar would’ve picked a more experienced cat, like Darkstripe or Whitestorm. Whitestorm had even already sent out today’s patrols. That Tigerstar trusts Fireheart so much is surprising and warming.
ThunderClan takes up Fireheart’s name in a call, and Tigerstar dips his head, before leaping to the ground. Fireheart approaches him, and he’s not the only one.
“Are you sure about Fireheart?” Darkstripe asks. “He’s…”
Tigerstar’s gaze looms heavy. “Fireheart is my choice as deputy, yes.” He wraps his tail around Fireheart, and Fireheart can smell him clearly, still with the lingering scent of the Moonstone around him. “He has trained an apprentice.”
“Cinderpaw barely counts.”
“But she does count.” Tigerstar rubs his jaw against Fireheart’s head. “I’ve made my choice, Darkstripe, and I’ve made that quite clear.”
Fireheart is suddenly less sure they’re actually talking about his deputyship.
“Sleep with me tonight,” Tigerstar says. “Please. I don’t want to sleep alone right now.”
Fireheart purrs. He wishes it were under better criteria, but he has longed for the warmth of sleeping with his mate. “Let me just say goodnight to the kits.” Goldenflower has all three huddled under her, and they’re sure to question his absence.
“Of course. We’ll go together.” Tigerstar’s chin presses down on his shoulder, the weight of his head massive and familiar. “I do see them, you know.”
“I know, I know. I just…” am raising them. He’s not sure when exactly when it happened, but it is true. The kittens run to him almost as much as Goldenflower, and always before Tigerstar.
“It’s been a long day,” Tigerstar says, like he’s finishing Fireheart’s sentence. “It’s okay, I know it has been.” He presses his muzzle to the back of Fireheart’s neck. “Let’s sleep, kitten.”
Fireheart nods, following Tigerstar to the nursery. The huge tom touches noses with Goldenflower, then gives Bramblekit and Tawnykit each a lick. When he’s done, he steps back, curling his tail around his paws and watching Fireheart say his goodnight.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he promises the litter, sweeping them up in his tail.
Goldenflower watches them, silent.
He nuzzles each of the kits, ending with Cloudkit. He gives him an extra few licks. Fireheart doesn’t have a true favorite, but he is closest with Cloudkit, and he’s not blind. He can see the discrepancy in attention.
“Sleep well.” He steps away from the kits and into Tigerstar, who rests his chin on Fireheart’s head, looking at Goldenflower. The queen is tense, having stayed silent this whole moment, and only turns, saying nothing. She just heards the kits back into the nursery, her tail sweeping over them.
Fireehart sticks close to Tigerstar as they drift towards the den.
“The apprentices changed the nest,” he says. “So it won’t smell like her…” He sighs. “Bluestar was a good leader.”
You killed her.
He’s shoved it down to get through everything — her vigil, the day, everything — but now the memory flies back, as strong as reliving it.
Tigerstar licks his shoulder. “Is everything alright, Fireheart?”
“I just…she’s — it’s hard to picture ThunderClan without her.”
Tigerstar purrs. “I know. She’s — as long as I can remember, she’s been leader.” He nudges them into the privacy of the den, the lichen covering the entrance blocking most light and camp’s vigilant eyes. “You should’ve seen her in her prime, Fireheart. She was…well, she had become less than a shadow of who she was.” He lays down, then pulls Fireheart into the nest with him. “You’re still upset.”
“Because you…killed her.”
Tigerstar begins to groom him. “StarClan gave me nine lives, Fireheart. Would they do that if they disapproved?”
“My kitten,” Tigerstar purrs, and Fireheart wrinkles his nose. Tigerstar’s whiskers droop. “What’s wrong?”
Fireheart forces his ears to prick up. “Nothing.”
Tigerstar nuzzles Fireheart’s cheek. “Do you not like being my kitten anymore?”
“No! No…” Fireheart purrs. “It’s just…”
“It’s alright,” Tigerstar says. “My little kitten’s all grown up and deputy.” He licks behind Fireheart’s ear, purring. “And I’m leader, so I guess that makes you my star.”
The pet name rolls over Fireheart like heat from a basking stone in greenleaf, making him shiver. Tigerstar’s expression reveals that was the intended effect.
RiverClan comes the next day, and Tigerstar puts up no resistance. “They belong with you,” he agrees. “Take them now.
“These are my kits,” Greystripe protests. “You can’t give them away!”
“If you care so much, you can go with them. Let’s see how RiverClan responds to a traitor.”
To Fireheart’s surprise, Greystripe goes.
“Fireheart!” Tawnykit squeals, launching herself at him. “Fireheart, Bramblekit caught a leaf.”
The sense of import in her voice is amusing, as she headbutts his shoulder, frustrated with his stillness.
“He did?” Tigerstar asks.
Tawnykit nods, nipping Fireheart’s flank. “Come on,” she huffs. “It’s a cool one.”
“Tawnykit,” Fireheart says. “We don’t bite cats.”
She bunts her forehead against him again. “You’re not getting up!”
“Tawnykit,” Tigerstar says, and she sits, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Listen to Fireheart.”
“But he should come see!” she whines.
Fireheart starts to stand, but Tigerstar curls his tail over his leg. “Don’t reward her behavior,” he says. “Tawnykit, you can tell Bramblekit to bring us the leaf.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue.”
Tawnykit sighs, and Fireheart sinks back against Tigerstar. “She was just excited,” Fireheart says. “It’s alright.”
“It’s unbecoming,” Tigerstar says. “If she’s old enough to play outside the nursery, she’s old enough to understand she can’t drag every cat off wherever she wants.”
“She’s just a kit.”
Tigerstar puts his head on Fireheart’s shoulder, watching as Bramblekit looks to them, before picking up a leaf and beginning to carry it to him. Tawnykit’s ears are folded unhappily, and she doesn’t make any effort to follow him.
“I don’t mind when she drags me off,” Fireheart adds.
“Maybe I do,” Tigerstar teases. “But that’s not the point. She needs to behave.”
Tawnykit shakes her head, her ears popping back up as she tackles Cloudkit into a pile of leaves. They both laugh, and Cloudkit chases her.
“I caught a leaf!” Bramblekit says, dropping it in front of them. “It was falling from one of the trees and I lept up and I grabbed it and I caught it!”
Kit-sized claw marks reveal that he did catch it, and Fireheart purrs.
“Excellent work,” Tigerstar says. “I see someone is preparing to be a good hunter.”
Bramblekit’s chest puffs with pride.
Without Greystripe, Fireheart feels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never been close with most of the cats in his age group, and it’s a little late for him to go forge a connection with Sandstorm and Dustpelt. When he’s with the kits, he knows what he’s doing: he feels like he’s spent more time in ThunderClan with them than without them. The rest of the time, though, he’s aimless. He can sit with Tigerstar as the senior warriors talk, but they aren’t exactly Fireheart’s friends.
That’s alright, Fireheart decides. Tigerstar wants him there.
He knows Goldenflower was Tigerstar’s mate first, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to always be the second choice.
Sometimes he looks at Lynxpaw, and realizes they’re thinking the same thing.
He feels bad for her, because if she could let Tigerstar in, she would see how proud of her he is, even though no blood lies between them. She wants so hard to get his attention, but she doesn’t need to. She already has it. At Gatherings, he likes to show her off as an up-and-coming warrior, singing her praises to anyone who will listen.
But she’s not satisfied.
"Cloudkit is missing.”
Fireheart feels the air in his lungs freeze. “He’s…missing?”
Goldenflower nods. “Hurry up, deputy. We need to organize search patrols now. A kit of his age can’t survive in this weather for long.”
His mouth dry and his world still restructruing, Fireheart nods. “I…”
“My star,” Tigerstar says. “You are distraught. Let me.”
He steps forward, easily organizing patrols, and Fireheart claws at the emptiness inside him, unsure of how to keep his heart beating.
The patrol that finds him finds a white kit curled around a vole. The claw marks make it clear it was Cloudkit’s first catch, and Fireheart’s chest would burst with pride if it weren’t for the fear-anger over Cloudkit’s escape. He snatches the limp kit from the warrior carrying him, hurrying to Yellowfang’s den.
“Start licking his fur backwards,” Yellowfang advises. “Make sure he’s dry before you lick it down.”
She starts to mix together herbs, and Fireheart complies, keeping Cloudkit against the warmest part of his flank. When Yellowfang is satisfied with her concoction, she presents it to the kit, tricking him into swallowing it by smearing it onto his tongue.
Cloudkit still hasn’t woken up.
“Is he going to be okay?” Fireheart asks, rying to keep the panic out of his voice, in case Cloudkit can somehow hear him.
“He’s going to be fine,” Yellowfang soothes. “He just needs to warm up a little.”
“He was gone for so long…”
“And he will be fine,” she promises. “Kits are tough.”
Fireheart watches Cloudkit’s chest rise and fall in shallow, rapid breaths. “Has anyone told Tigerstar?”
The medic is silent.
“Yellowfang?”
“Fireheart, how sure are you that’s a question you want the answer to?”
The question doesn’t make sense, nor does the burst of affection in her voice.
“I asked. Besides, someone should tell him — he worries… Cloudkit was missing, and he…we were so worried.”
“You were worried.”
Fireheart doesn’t have it in him to argue, and eventually, something snaps the tension in the air.
“I’ll tell him myself.” Yellowfang licks Fireheart’s head. “Cinderpaw is telling Goldenflower; she’ll be back soon, but Cloudkit should be fine.”
Cloudkit wakes up while Yellowfang is gone. He’s still wrapped up tight in Fireheart’s fur, but as soon as Fireheart feels his breath pick up and his paws start to wander, he starts to groom him again.
“What were you thinking?” Fireheart hisses. “You could have died!”
“I just wanted to prove I was as good as Bramblekit and Tawnykit.” Cloudkit kneads Fireheart’s flank. “I didn’t mean to scare everyone.”
Cinderpaw bends down to lick Cloudkit’s head. “We know, Cloudkit. Just try to rest.” She meets Fireheart’s eyes, silently chastising him. She’s growing up so fast.
Yellowfang comes back, but not with Tigerstar.
At sunhigh, Yellowfang releases them to return to the nursery. Fireheart clutches Cloudkit in his jaws.
“I can walk!”
“And run off again?”
Cloudkit sighs, sagging.
Goldenflower has the other two gathered near her. They’re eager to see their brother, and he starts to wiggle again, despereate to return.
“Are you okay?” Tawnykit asks, a little wriggle in her tail.
“I’m fine.”
Goldenflower leans foward to take Cloudkit from him, pressing the white kit to the ground to groom him. Unwilling to part, Fireheart pushes close, so all three kits are trapped.
“Did you do it?” Bramblekit whispers.
“‘Course I did. Didn’t they show you?”
Fireheart’s mouth tightens. “You shouldn’t be so proud of sneaking out. That was very dangerous.”
“But I caught something!” Cloudkit wriggles out of Goldenflower’s paws, looking up at Fireheart with his wide, blue eyes. “Can’t I be an apprentice now?”
Fireheart chuffs, nuzzling Cloudkit. “Not hardly. Give it a few more moons, and we’ll talk.”
Fireheart sits with Tawnypaw as Tigerstar calls forward the two new warriors. Both look like they’re bursting with pride, but other emotions color it.
Neither of them are the pure joy they should be.
“Lynxbite,” he says, and the she-cat is the picture of regal acceptance. There’s no uncontrolled happiness bubbling over, no glances back at her kin — just calm poise.
“Swiftclaw,” Tigerstar says, and the tom accepts it with what can only be described as deliberateness.
“Those are good names,” Tawnypaw mutters.
“Are you jealous?”
“No! He could always reuse -claw. Or -heart, if we earned it.”
“What about -flower?”
“I don’t want to be that kind of she-cat. And Tigerstar would never give that kind of name to Bramblepaw or Cloudpaw — no offense, Fireheart.”
“I’ll have you know Tigerstar asked me to help raise you,” he says. “But point taken.”
When Cinderpelt comes back from the Moonstone with her full name, Fireheart feels a swell of pride deep in his chest.
“I knew you could do it.”
Cinderpelt purrs. “Thank you for supporting me.”
“Of course. You might not be my apprentice, but…”
“We barely trained, but you stood by me. I appreciate that, Fireheart. Let me.”
“Okay, okay. I just…can’t imagine doing anything else. You’ll always be my apprentice.”
A fire sweeps through ThunderClan’s camp.
Fireheart knows what he has to do. He wants to save Yellowfang, wants to terribly. Leaving her makes his heart ache.
But Bramblekit is his son, and between the two of them, there’s no real choice.
Just a very hard task.
“My training wasn’t even done,” Cinderpelt admits. “She just didn’t want me to fall behind Brackenfur.”
Fireheart, still shocked, just nods. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he mumbles, feeling distracted. Yellowfang is dead. How is she dead? She felt eternal.
But then, that’s how he thought of Bluestar.
“What am I going to do without her?”
Fireheart doesn’t have an answer.
Cinderpelt buries her face in her mentor’s singed fur, sobbing, and the numbness threatens to claim Fireheart.
“You saved our son,” Tigerstar purrs. “Of course that was the right thing to do.”
Fireheart searches for Greystripe at the Gathering, but his friend is missing.
“We can’t exactly take him when his loyalty is still unclear,” Mistyfoot says. “But he sent me to find you.”
He purrs, touching noses with his friend. “How are you, Mistyfoot?”
“Good, good. Greystripe is well.”
“I’m happy to hear it.” Even if he is a traitor, he was Fireheart’s friend first. “Are the kits well?”
“They’re good too. Mosspelt adopted them — she has another kitten, a little older, Dawnkit.” Mistyfoot sits, licking one of her paws to wash her face. “Greystripe said you have a kit?”
“Cloudkit. But—” Before Fireheart can add that he’s raising Tawnykit and Bramblekit just as much, Tigerstar steps to them, touching his tail to Fireheart’s back in greeting.
“Well-met, Mistyfoot. And Fireheart, I didn’t know you were friends with anyone in Riverclan who wasn’t a traitor.”
Fireheart purrs, leaning into the brush of their pelts.
“It’s good to know my ember has a good role model, even if they’re from another Clan.”
Embarassiment taps its claws on his heart, but so does warmth, and Fireheart licks Tigerstar’s cheek, pressing against him.
“I’ve heard you’re a good mother,” Tigerstar continues, the conversation movigin on from Fireheart. “How are your kits?”
Fireheart bunts his temple against Tigerstar’s shoulder, content to listen.
“What’s wrong?”
Fireheart sighs. “It’s just…been a long day. Days. Moon. I dunno.”
Cinderpelt licks his shoulder. “Well, I think you’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” How is it possible so much has gone sideways so fast? Greystripe is gone, and Fireheart feels like he can’t do it.
“Don’t kill yourself with stress,” Cinderpelt says. “Take a deep breath now and then.”
“Can’t I mentor Cloudkit?”
Tigerstar shakes his head. “You’re far too close to him, Fireheart. Would you have me apprenticing Tawnykit or Bramblekit to Goldenflower?”
“Leave us alone,” Lynxbite growls.
“I just thought I’d try to get to know you better…”
“Well, we don’t want to!”
Swiftclaw puts his tail on his sister’s back, but she shrugs it off.
“Tigerstar took Goldenflower, and now you’re taking him?”
“I’m not taking him from anyone, Lynxbite.”
“What do you call it, then?” Lynxbite growls, the depth of her anger surprising from such a young cat.
Fireheart frowns. “I don’t call it anything, Lynxbite. I joined Tigerstar’s family, just like Goldenflower.”
“Yeah, except ever since you came here, he hasn’t been treating her the same.”
“I didn’t…” Fireheart sighs. He’s not qualified to explain all of this to her.
Cloudkit licks Fireheart’s chest. “You love me, right?”
The question startles Fireheart. “Of course I love you.”
Cloudkit nods. “Okay. I love you too.”
“I was thinking, you ought to mentor Bramblekit.” Tigerstar’s looking too closely at him. “Do you think you’re capable?”
“It’d be an honor.”
Tigerstar purrs. “That’s not what I’m asking, Fireheart.”
Fireheart sits to one side during the kits’ apprentice ceremonies. He’s kept as quiet as he can about what will happen during them, not knowing if they’ll be upset about him mentoring one.
The whole situation makes him understand why this is discouraged, at best.
But it’s to everyone’s surprise when the first cat Tigerstar apprentices is Tawnypaw, and to Fireheart. He touches noses with his daughter, trying not to let his shock seem like anything other than excitement to work with her. And he is — he loves his kits equally — he’s just surprised that Tigerstar has changed the plan.
He doesn’t understand why, until Tigerstar apprentices Bramblepaw to himself.
(It makes Cloudpaw being given to Whitestorm, a perfectly respectable senior warrior, feel like an afterthought.)
“I thought you were giving me Bramblepaw.”
Tigerstar narrows his eyes. “What, is something wrong with my daughter?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But you’re upset you didn’t get Bramblepaw.”
“I’m — confused. It wasn’t what we had planned.”
Tigerstar steps back. “What I had planned, Fireheart. I am the leader of ThunderClan. You are my deputy, not my peer.”
Burning with energy, Tawnypaw looks up to him.
Well.
Up, metaphorically speaking.
“We’ll do a tour of the territory today,” he says. “Just us.”
Tigerstar and Whitestorm are both seasoned warriors. Fireheart feels a strong hum of anxiety at the thought of training Tawnypaw with them.
So he takes her out alone.
“Am I your first apprentice?”
“How could you be? I’m the deputy!”
“I dunno. Cats say you didn’t have a proper apprentice.”
Fireheart sighs. “I was Cinderpaw’s mentor. When she got hurt, she decided to become a medic.”
“Oh.” Tawnypaw’s ears turn for a moment, and then return to position. “I mean. I’m not upset or anything.”
“I’d hope not! I only raised you.” Tawnypaw bends her head, so he can bunt his temple against hers. “Now. Let’s move on to actual matters.”
Goldenflower moves into the leader’s den, and Fireheart stares with flexed ears, wondering what he should do.
The kits have all made their nests — he checked in on them — and in the warriors’ den, everywhere he used to sleep has been filled. Without kits, he feels out of place in the nursery, and Tigerstar didn’t invite him in anyway.
The sunlight is dwindling. He wishes he put himself on an evening patrol, so he could have more time to think.
Why can’t the kits have petty drama they need him to resolve? Or there be a crisis to require him? Anything to delay the inevitable.
In the soft light of the evening, he lies with Tigerstar.
“How was your day, kitten?”
“Busy. It never stops.”
Fireheart sleeps next to Cinderpelt, feeling more rested than he has in ages.
Leopardstar spits fury at Greystripe, and Fireheart winces. He’s exhausted and hurt and can’t imagine attacking him.
Swiftclaw comes back with a patrol, Tigerstar leading the charge, and it doesn’t take long for the fighting to stop. Fireheart drags himself out of the gully, standing next to Tigerstar. Leopardstar’s fur is still bristling, and Stonefur mirrors Fireheart.
Leopardstar’s lip curls when she sees Greystripe follow Fireheart out of the gully. “You!” she snarls. “You’re the reason we lost. Sunningrocks would be ours if it weren’t for you.”
Fireheart’s tail curls around his leg.
“You’re a traitor,” she hisses, then turns back to face her Clan. “If you ever see Greystripe on our territory, kill him.”
RiverClan leaves, and Greystripe shifts awkwardly as Tigerstar turns to Fireheart.
“He…saved me,” Fireheart says. “He warned me about Leopardstar, and pulled her off me.”
“So I suppose you want me to let him rejoin ThunderClan.”
Fireheart looks down. “Yes.”
Tigerstar is silent, glancing between Fireheart and Greystripe. The other warriors are silent, waiting for him to issue his verdict.
“Very well,” he decides. “The traitor may stay.” He leans his head down to Fireheart’s ear. “But only because of you, my ember.”
“Something is bothering you.”
Fireheart tucks his head against Tigerstar. “It’s the battle.”
Tigerstar presses his nose against Firestar’s forehead, brushing his jaw against Fireheart’s temple as he does so. “What about it? I’m not a mind reader, Fireheart.” His tone is airy, teasing, but that does nothing to assuage Fireheart’s preoccupations.
“Greystripe,” Fireheart clarifies. His friend has been busy trying to fit back into ThunderClan, and it isn’t easy. Fireheart could hear every warrior complain about having to share a den with him. “I just…If he had attacked me, I don’t know if I could’ve fought back.”
“Of course you could have,” Tigerstar says. He runs his tail over Fireheart’s flank. “You’re one of ThunderClan’s finest warriors, you know.”
Fireheart closes his eyes, Tigerstar’s familiar heartbeat echoing in one ear. “I’m not worried about if I would have won,” he says. “I don’t think I could have fought him.”
“He had just saved you,” Tigerstar says. “I don’t think anyone would fault you for that.” He is balm to Fireheart’s painful uncertainties, his reassurances smoothing over the questions that have been gnawing on his rib cage. “Besides,” Tigerstar continues, “I think there’s a more important question.” He pauses, and Fireheart opens one eye. Tigerstar is watching him, his eyes amber like the setting sun. “If I had told you to attack, would you have?”
“I wouldn’t have attacked you to begin with.”
Tigerstar purrs, nuzzling Fireheart and blinking slowly. “I know you wouldn’t have, my star. But just pretend I asked you to attack him.”
The ardor in Tigerstar’s voice makes Fireheart’s chest feel tight, and he purrs back, closing his eyes again. “Of course I would have,” he murmurs, sinking into Tigerstar. He can’t imagine such a situation ever occurring, but he doesn’t have to be able to imagine it to know. Tigerstar wants what is best for ThunderClan; Fireheart does not need to be able to see his vision to understand his part to play in it.
“I know.”
They are quiet, their breath slowly growing together, their heartbeats matching. In the cradle of Tigerstar’s embrace, he doesn’t have to worry about helping Greystripe reintegrate, or preparing to mentor Bramblekit, or even if he needs to send out a hunting patrol.
Tigerstar tilts his head under Fireheart’s. “My love,” he says, grounded enough that it breaks Fireheart’s dreamy state of relaxtion. “I would like nothing more to spend the rest of the night like this, but we both have duties to the Clan.”
Fireheart sighs, licking Tigerstar’s cheek. “You’re so dramatic,” he teases. “It’s not like we’ll be far apart.”
“Is it so bad to like being around you?” Tigerstar asks, laughing slightly. He stands, arching his back. “Ready, deputy?”
“You love me, right?”
Fireheart nods, and Tigerstar — seemingly — breathes a sigh of relief.
“Good,” he says. He shifts, until he’s surrounding Fireheart, his tail wrapped to Fireheart’s chin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Fireheart purrs, leaning into the touch. Tigerstar had told him he should have been sleeping in his den with him and Goldenflower, but he generally chooses to curl around Goldenflower like this. Fireheart’s not sure where she is right now, but he doesn’t want to bring it up, in case Tigerstar pushes him away.
He can feel his exhaustion start to drag him into sleep, but he fights to keep his eyes open, so he can enjoy it as much as possible.
“Fireheart?” Tigerstar murmurs.
He looks up, blinking at his mate.
“I love you,” Tigerstar whispers, licking Fireheart’s head. “Get some sleep; you look exhausted.”
Tigerstar’s tail curls around him. “ThunderClan needs to be strong,” he murmurs. “We’ve been through so much hardship.”
Fireheart swallows. “Did you—”
“You’re my deputy,” he continues. “Can I trust you, Fireheart?”
“Of course.” Fireheart meets Tigerstar’s eyes. “I’d do anything for ThunderClan.”
“Anything?”
He nods. “I’d kill for you.”
Tigerstar purrs. “And you will.”