Forest of Secrets

Keep your eyes open, Fireheart. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day I'll find you, and then you'll be crowfood.

A leaf cannot return to the bud - bluestar to fireheart and greystripe

There’s more to being a warrior than killing. A true warrior — the best warrior — isn’t cruel or mean. He doesn’t claw an enemy who can’t fight back. Where’s the honor in that?

I buried her on the shore," he whispered as Fireheart padded up and sat down beside him. "She loved the river." He raised his head to where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear. "She hunts with StarClan now," he mewed softly. "Someday I'll find her again, and we'll be together.

I have to stay here and bury her," he whispered. "Here, between RiverClan and ThunderClan. After this, not even her own Clan will want to mourn her.

He set a brisk pace through the trees, but not so fast that he failed to notice the brilliant green fronds of new bracken beginning to unfurl, or the first pale buds of primroses pushing out of their green coverings. Birdsong filled the air, and the fresh scent of growing things.

We need no help from ThunderClan,” growled Crookedstar. “RiverClan cats can look after themselves.” “Don’t be such a fool.” It was Graypool who spoke, with a glare at her leader. Fireheart felt a new surge of respect for her; he guessed that not many cats would dare to take that tone with Crookedstar. “You’re too proud for your own good,” the elder rasped. “How can we feed ourselves, even with the thaw? There are no fish to eat. The river’s practically poisoned; you know it is.

-I am willing to die for my own clan.-Fireheart

Graystripe had never taken his duties as mentor seriously, he thought with a pang of worry. He had been more interested in Silverstream right from the start. Meanwhile, Fireheart himself had more or less taken over Brackenpaw’s training. He enjoyed it, and he liked the serious-minded ginger tom, but he was troubled that loyalty to the Clan didn’t mean more to Graystripe.

I know what it's like to lose kits, Oakheart, I wouldn't wish that kind of grief on any cat.

Fireheart recognized Mistyfoot, Silverstream’s best friend. He knew she would love these kits as much as her own. But no cat could feel more strongly for Graystripe than Fireheart had, for four long seasons.

But why tell me?” Fireheart repeated. “Perhaps after so long I want a cat to know the truth,” meowed Bluestar with a slight frown. “I think you of all cats might understand, Fireheart. Sometimes there are no right choices.

Tigerclaw, what is this?” Bluestar’s meow was sharper now, edged with anger, not fear. “I’m the leader of your Clan, or have you forgotten that?” “Not for much longer,” Tigerclaw growled. “I’m going to kill you, and kill you again. As many times as it takes for you to join StarClan forever. It’s time for me to lead this Clan!

Well caught, Cloudpaw,” he meowed. “I didn’t see you coming until it was too late.” “Nor did this stupid bird,” crowed Cloudpaw, flicking his tail smugly.

Silverstream is going to have my kits!

The new deputy will be Fireheart,

And don’t forget the fox dung.

Graystripe looked ready to burst out of his skin. “Fireheart,” he whispered, “Silverstream is going to have my kits!

Take no notice of Crowfur. He’d find fault with StarClan.

Princess’s eyes shone with pride, and Fireheart felt a prickle of uncertainty in his fur. He knew how much it meant to his sister to have given her firstborn to the Clan. There was no way he could let her have any doubts about how the kit was settling into Clan life.

Tigerclaw swung his head around and fixed her with a yellow glare. “Defend myself to you, you gutless excuse for a warrior? What sort of a leader are you? Keeping the peace with other Clans. Helping them! You barely punished Fireheart and Graystripe for feeding RiverClan, and you sent them to fetch WindClan home! I would have never shown such kittypet softness. I would have brought back the days of TigerClan. I would have made ThunderClan great!” “And how many cats would have died for it?” Bluestar murmured, almost to herself.

Brackenfur’s purring faltered and his eyes looked troubled. “You should have been with me,” he murmured, gently nosing her injured leg. “No, I’m fine as I am,” Cinderpaw insisted. “You’ll have to be a warrior for both of us. And I’ll have to settle for being the greatest medicine cat this forest has ever seen!

he felt as if a tree had fallen and pinned him to the ground.