Erin Hunter - Fire And Ice

Fireheart followed his gaze to a sleek ShadowClan warrior. “You’re right,” he agreed, surprised.

“Mind you, we did do most of their fighting for them!” scoffed Graystripe.

Fireheart’s amused purr was interrupted by Whitestorm. “The ShadowClan cats fought as hard as we did to chase out Brokenstar. We should honor their determination to recover,” he meowed sternly, before padding over to a group of warriors gathered beneath one of the great oaks.

“Oops!” mewed Graystripe with a guilty glance at Fireheart.

The young warriors stayed on the edge of the clearing. Fireheart could easily pick out the apprentices from the other Clans-their fur looked kit-soft, their faces round, and their paws plump and clumsy.

Two warriors approached Graystripe and Fireheart. A small brown apprentice tagged after them. Fireheart recognized the gray tabby tom from ShadowClan, but not the smoky black tom who walked with him.

“Hi!” meowed the gray tom.

“Hello, Wetfoot,” replied Fireheart. He glanced at the dark brown cat.

Wetfoot meowed, “This is Blackclaw of RiverClan.”

Graystripe and Fireheart nodded their greeting. The apprentice stepped timidly forward.

“And this is my apprentice, Oakpaw,” added Wetfoot.

Oakpaw looked up at Fireheart with wide, anxious eyes. “H-hi, Fireheart,” he mewed. Fireheart nodded his head in greeting.

“I hear Bluestar made you warriors after the battle,” meowed Wetfoot. “Congratulations! It must’ve been a cold vigil.”

“It was!” Graystripe agreed.

“Who’s that?” Fireheart broke in. A sleek she-cat with a mottled brown pelt had caught his attention. She was sharing words with Tigerclaw beside the Great Rock that stood in the center of the clearing.

“That’s Leopardfur, our deputy,” growled the RiverClan warrior.

Fireheart’s fur stiffened as he thought about the previous RiverClan deputy, Oakheart, and how he had died in battle with ThunderClan. He was saved from having to say anything by Bluestar’s bounding onto the top of the rock to start the meeting. Two other cats joined her, and one of them, an elderly black tom, sounded the call for all cats to gather beneath the rock. Fireheart recognized the black tom, and couldn’t help feeling surprised. Had old Nightpelt become ShadowClan’s leader since Brokenstar had fled?

When the cats had settled in front of the Great Rock, Bluestar spoke. “ThunderClan bring to this Gathering their new medicine cat, Yellowfang,” she announced formally. She paused while all eyes turned to the old she-cat with the thick fur and flattened muzzle. Fireheart noticed her shuffle her haunches on the hard ground. Early in his apprenticeship he had spent almost a whole moon nursing the she-cat back to health after she had come to the ThunderClan camp. Now he could tell by the way her right ear twisted slightly that she was uncomfortable under the gaze of the other Clans. Yellowfang had been medicine cat to ShadowClan, and cats hardly ever left one Clan to join another. She looked around the crowd slowly until she met the gaze of Runningnose, ShadowClan’s new medicine cat. There was a brief pause; then they exchanged a respectful nod. Yellowfang’s ear straightened and Fireheart relaxed.

Bluestar spoke again. “We also bring two newly named warriors-Fireheart and Graystripe.”

Fireheart held his head high, but as he felt all eyes turn to look at him, a surge of self-consciousness made his tail flick nervously.

Nightpelt stepped forward, brushing past Bluestar to stand on the highest part of the rock. “I, Nightpelt, have taken over the leadership of ShadowClan,” he announced. “Our former leader, Brokenstar, broke the warrior code and we were forced to chase him out.”

“No mention of the fact we helped them to do it,” Graystripe whispered to Fireheart.

Nightpelt continued, “The spirits of our ancestors have spoken to Runningnose and chosen me as leader. I have not yet traveled to Mothermouth to receive StarClan’s gift of nine lives, but I will make this journey tomorrow night while the moon is still full. After my vigil at the Moonstone, I shall be known as Nightstar.”

“Where is Brokenstar now?” called a voice from the crowd. It was Frostfur, the white ThunderClan queen.

“I think we can assume that he has left the forest, with the other banished warriors. He knows it would be dangerous for him to try to return,” answered Nightpelt.

“I hope so,” Fireheart heard Frostfur murmur to her neighbor, a plump brown queen.

RiverClan’s leader, Crookedstar, stepped forward. “Let’s hope Brokenstar has had the sense to leave the forest for good. His greed for territory threatened us all.”

Crookedstar waited for the yowls of agreement to die down before he went on. “While Brokenstar was ShadowClan’s leader, I allowed him to hunt in our river. But now ShadowClan has a new leader, and this agreement can no longer stand. The prey in our river belongs to RiverClan alone.”

Mews of triumph rose from the other RiverClan cats, but Fireheart saw with a feeling of alarm that Nightpelt was bristling.

Nightpelt raised his voice. “ShadowClan has the same needs as it did under Brokenstar. We have many mouths to feed, Crookedstar. You made an agreement with the whole of ShadowClan!”

Crookedstar leaped to his paws and turned on Nightpelt. He flattened his ears and hissed, and the cats below fell silent.

Quickly Bluestar stepped between the two leaders. “ShadowClan has suffered many losses recently,” she mewed softly. “With fewer mouths to feed, Nightpelt, do you really need RiverClan’s fish?”

Crookedstar hissed again, but Nightpelt held his gaze without flinching.

Bluestar spoke again, this time more forcefully. “You have just driven out your leader and several of your strongest warriors! And Brokenstar went against the warrior code when he forced Crookedstar to agree to share the river.”

Fireheart swallowed uneasily as he noticed Nightpelt unsheathe his claws, but Bluestar didn’t blink. Her icy blue gaze glinted in the moonlight as she growled, “Remember you have not even received your nine lives from StarClan. Are you so confident you can make these demands?” Fireheart tensed as he felt the bristling of fur around him. The whole crowd was waiting for Nightpelt’s response.

Nightpelt looked away angrily. His tail flicked from side to side but he said nothing.

Bluestar had won. Her voice softened. “We all know ShadowClan has suffered much these past few moons,” she meowed. “ThunderClan has agreed to leave you in peace until you have had time to recover.” She turned her gaze on Crookedstar. “I’m sure that Crookedstar will agree to show you the same respect.”

Crookedstar narrowed his eyes and nodded. “But only as long as ShadowClan is not scented in our territory,” he growled.

Fireheart relaxed, letting the fur lie flat on his shoulders. Now that he knew what it was like to fight in a real battle, he admired his leader’s courage even more in challenging these two great warriors. Muffled mews of relief and agreement sounded in the crowd as the tension on the Great Rock suddenly eased.

“You won’t scent us, Crookedstar,” meowed Nightpelt. “Bluestar was right-we don’t need your fish. After all, we have the uplands to hunt in, now that WindClan have left their territory.”

Crookedstar looked at Nightpelt, his eyes brightening. “That’s true,” he agreed. “This will mean extra prey for all of us.”

Bluestar drew up her head sharply. “No! WindClan must return!”

Crookedstar and Nightpelt looked at the ThunderClan leader. “Why?” asked Crookedstar.

“If we share WindClan’s hunting grounds, it will mean more food for all our kits!” Nightpelt pointed out.