Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20 "Will she live?" Fireheart asked anxiously. Cinderpelt let out a weary sigh. She had come to Snakerocks as fast as her uneven legs could run and done her best to patch up the worst of Brightpaw's injuries with cobwebs to stop the bleeding and poppy seeds for the pain. At last the apprentice had recovered enough to be dragged back through the forest to the camp, and now she lay unconscious in a nest among the ferns near Cinderpelt's den. "I don't know," Cinderpelt admitted. "I've done the best I can. She's in the paws of StarClan now." "She's a strong cat," Fireheart meowed, trying to reassure himself. When he looked at Brightpaw now, curled among the ferns, she looked anything but strong. She seemed smaller than a kit, no more than a scrap of fur. Fireheart half expected each shallow breath to be her last. "Even if she recovers, she'll be hideously scarred," Cinderpelt warned him. "I couldn't save her ear or eye. I don't know that she'll ever be a warrior."

Fireheart nodded. He felt sick as he forced himself to look at the side of Brightpaw's face, now swathed in cobwebs. All this reminded him of Cinderpelt's accident, when Yellowfang had told him that the young she-cat's leg would never heal properly. "She said something about the 'pack,'" he murmured. "I wonder what it was she really saw." Cinderpelt shook her head. "It's what we've been afraid of all along. There's something in the forest hunting us down. I heard it in my dream." "I know." Fireheart's muscles tensed with regret. "I should have done something long ago. StarClan sent that warning to Bluestar too." "But Bluestar has no respect for StarClan anymore. I'm surprised she even listened to them." "Do you think that's why this happened?" Fireheart spun around and faced the medicine cat. "No." Cinderpelt's voice was strained as she moved closer to Fireheart and pressed herself against him. "StarClan did not send the evil; I'm sure of that." As she spoke, a rustling in the fern tunnel

announced the arrival of Cloudtail. "I thought I told you to get some rest," Cinderpelt meowed. "I couldn't sleep." The white cat padded over to settle himself in the ferns beside his friend. "I want to be with Brightpaw." He bent his head to give her shoulder a gentle lick. "Sleep well, Brightpaw. You're still beautiful," he murmured. "Come back to us. I don't know where you are now, but you have to come back." He went on licking her for a moment more and then looked up to fix a hostile glare on Fireheart. "This is all your fault!" he burst out. "She and Swiftpaw should have been made warriors, and then they wouldn't have gone off on their own." Fireheart met his kin's gaze steadily. "Yes, I know," he mewed. "I tried, believe me." He broke off as he heard the soft pawsteps of another cat, and turned to see that Bluestar was approaching. Fireheart had sent Sandstorm to fetch her, and the ginger warrior followed her into the medicine cat's clearing. The Clan leader stood and looked down at

Brightpaw in silence. Cloudtail raised his head challengingly, and for a heartbeat Fireheart thought he was going to accuse Bluestar of being responsible for Brightpaw's terrible injuries as well, but Cloudtail stayed silent. Bluestar blinked a couple of times and asked, "Is she dying?" "That's up to StarClan," Cinderpelt told her, catching Fireheart's eye. "And what mercy can we expect from them?" Bluestar growled. "If it's up to StarClan, Brightpaw will die." "Without ever being a warrior," mewed Cloudtail; his voice was quiet and sorrowful, and he bent his head again to lick Brightpaw's shoulder. "Not necessarily." Bluestar spoke reluctantly. "There is a ritual—thankfully little used—if a dying apprentice is worthy, she can be made into a warrior so that she may take a warrior name to StarClan." She hesitated. Fireheart held his breath in disbelief. Would Bluestar really put aside her anger at their ancestors to acknowledge the importance of

StarClan in a warrior's life? Was she about to admit that Brightpaw had been denied the warrior status she deserved? Cloudtail looked up at the gray she-cat again. "Then do it," he growled. Bluestar did not react to being ordered around by her newest warrior. As Fireheart and Cinderpelt looked on, pelts touching for comfort, and Sandstorm approached to bear silent witness, the Clan leader dipped her head and began to speak. "I ask my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has learned the warrior code and has given up her life in the service of her Clan. Let StarClan receive her as a warrior." Then she paused, and her eyes blazed with anger that burned like cold fire. "She will be known as Lostface, so that every cat knows what StarClan did to take her from us," she growled. Fireheart stared at his leader in horror. How could she use this terribly wounded apprentice in her war against her warrior ancestors? "But that's a cruel name!" Cloudtail protested. "What if she lives?" "Then we will have all the more reason to

remember what StarClan have brought us to," Bluestar replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. "They will have this warrior as Lostface, or not at all." Cloudtail held her gaze for a moment longer, the light of challenge in his blue eyes, and then dipped his head as if he knew there was no point in arguing. "Let StarClan receive her by the name of Lostface," Bluestar finished. She bent her head and lightly touched her nose to Lostface's head. "There, it is done," she murmured. As if the touch had roused her, Lostface's eyes opened and a look of terrible fear flooded into them. For a moment she struggled back to wakefulness. "Pack, pack!" She gasped. "Kill, kill!" Bluestar recoiled, her fur bristling. "What? What does she mean?" she demanded. But Lostface had sunk into unconsciousness again. Bluestar looked wildly from Cinderpelt to Fireheart and back again. "What did she mean?" she repeated. "I don't know," Cinderpelt mewed uneasily. "That's all she will say."