Welcome to the fourth installment of my Echoing Flames AU! Yeah...I really need to think of a better introduction.

Anyway, as always, I don't own Warriors.

Firekit raced about the camp, chasing after the ball of moss Rosetail had given him to play with. He finally caught it, pouncing on the toy and sending several leaves flying into the air. It was nearly sunhigh, and Bluestar was busy discussing something with Redtail, so she had left him to entertain himself while she was taking care of her leader duties. She was standing nearby, however, so Firekit could still see her. He liked that about his mother. She never strayed too far out of his line of sight.

As he tumbled in front of the warriors' den, he heard a rustling sound coming from the entrance. Pausing in his game, Firekit glanced over towards the den, only to be met with the most horrifying sight he'd ever seen during his short life.

A massive cat, bigger even than his mother, was looming over him. He had spiky gray and white fur, and his pelt was covered in scars. His yellow eyes were glaring balefully down at Firekit, and his mouth was twisted into a sneer.

Firekit squealed in terror and raced towards Bluestar as fast as his tiny legs would carry him. The sound of his screams must have reached her, for she paused in her conversation with Redtail and turned to look at him. He pressed himself against her leg, trying in vain to get his body to stop shaking.

"Firekit? What's the matter?" Bluestar asked, licking the kit's head gently to comfort him.

"There's a scary evil demon cat in the camp! He was sleeping in the warriors' den!" Firekit cried. "I saw him come out. He was all big and spiky and scarred, and his face was so ugly!"

"Bluestar," a new voice growled. "Would it be too much to ask of you to keep your disgusting spawn away from the warriors' den and in the nursery where it belongs?"

Dread filled Firekit at the sound of the strange voice. He peered out from behind his mother's leg. Sure enough, the massive cat was there, standing in front of Bluestar with the same sneer on his face.

"That's him! That's the demon cat!" he cried, hiding behind Bluestar again. "Mama, make him disappear! Tell him to go away!"

"Excuse me?" The demon cat no longer sounded angry, just extremely affronted. Meanwhile, Bluestar's expression suggested that she was barely keeping herself from laughing.

"That's not an evil demon cat, darling," she told him. "That's...Thistleclaw."

Fireheart opened his eyes as the first rays of sunlight began to seep into the warriors' den. He yawned and stretched as he climbed out of his nest, careful not to disturb any of his Clanmates. Beside him, Ravenflight twitched ever so slightly, but the skinny black tom remained fast asleep. Slowly, Fireheart padded out of the warriors' den and headed over to the fresh-kill pile, the voices from his dream still ringing in his ears.

One moon had passed since Tigerclaw had been exiled and Fireheart had become Clan deputy in his place. Ever since that day, the ginger tom's dreams had been plagued with memories of his time in ThunderClan as a kit.

Why do you keep showing me these memories? he asked, not entirely sure who he was talking to. Isn't it enough that I can never get that life back? How much longer are you going to make a mockery of me until you're finally satisfied?

Even his waking hours didn't bring any relief. During the day, Fireheart was forced to use his deputy duties to distract him from the constant looks of sadness from Bluestar and the reproachful glares from Whitestorm. The ThunderClan leader had kept true to her promise of not forcing Fireheart to discuss their issues, but it was clear that her decision was hurting her. Yet somehow, Fireheart couldn't bring himself to take her up on her offer and talk things over with his mother.

The strange thing was, it wasn't even that he didn't want to talk to her anymore. As much as he tried to deny it, Fireheart had to admit that part of him did want to hear Bluestar's side of the story if only to get a bit of closure on the matter. But he couldn't bring himself to go through with it, for there was still another part of him that wasn't interested in hearing anything she had to say.

I want to listen to her, yet I don't want to listen to her. I want her to be my mother again, yet I also don't want anything to do with her anymore. What, in the name of StarClan, am I supposed to do?

The truth was, he was frightened. Not of talking to Bluestar, of course; he knew that she would receive him with warmth no matter what. It was the thought of what she would say to him if he asked her to explain what had happened that caused his hesitation. His biggest fear was that he would find out that Thistleclaw had been telling the truth after all, that Bluestar had never really loved him and that the sadness she had carried with her for so long would turn out to be nothing more than a ploy to make him look like a pathetic fool.

Suddenly losing his appetite, Fireheart turned away from the fresh-kill pile and headed for the gorse tunnel. He had organized the day's patrols the night before, which gave him some free time to himself. Slowly, without any clear direction in mind, Fireheart padded out of the camp and into the forest. All around him, he could hear the sound of prey scurrying about, but for once in his life, he wasn't interested in hunting. A mouse raced across his path, but the ginger tom made no attempt to chase after it.

Run while you can, little mouse, he thought bitterly. A hunting patrol will find you sooner or later, so you might as well enjoy your last few hours of happiness. You should consider yourself lucky; at least your life is easy and your death will be over within a heartbeat.

Fireheart laughed bitterly to himself. He was jealous of a mouse, for StarClan's sake. How pathetic had his life become?

He wasn't entirely aware of where he was going, but somehow, he managed to stumble upon the RiverClan border. For a few heartbeats, Fireheart stared across the border at the territory where he knew two of Bluestar's kits–his half-siblings–lived. Did Mistyfoot and Stonefur suspect anything strange about Bluestar? After all, they were practically carbon copies of her.

In another life, maybe they could have grown up as siblings. If Bluestar had only kept Mistyfoot and Stonefur, as well as whoever the kit that had died was, Fireheart could have grown up with three older siblings. Instead, however, she had chosen to abandon her children in order to become Clan deputy, and now there was no chance of that ever happening. In fact, he would be lucky if Mistyfoot and Stonefur ever found out he was their brother. Fireheart didn't understand how she could make that sort of decision. Why would any mother choose their Clan over her kits?

"Fireheart? Is that you?"

Fireheart spun around to see Graystripe staring at him from the opposite bank. The flame-pelted warrior tensed, waiting to feel the familiar rush of anger, but his hackles remained flat. He couldn't bring himself to care about his ex-best friend's betrayal anymore.

"Graystripe," he meowed indifferently. "You look well. How are things in RiverClan?"

"Could be better, actually," the gray warrior replied. "The river was poisoned, and we couldn't eat the fish so we had to eat land prey instead. Crookedstar had me teach the Clan how to hunt on dry ground. But some of the RiverClan warriors didn't want to give up their fish. Blackclaw was one of them–he died after eating a poisoned trout."

"I see," Fireheart meowed. Deciding to change the subject, he continued, "Sandstorm told me that Silverstream was expecting when she saw her at the last Gathering. Have your kits arrived yet?"

Graystripe puffed up his chest proudly. "Yes, they have. Two strong kits, one tom, and one molly. Their names are Stormkit and Featherkit."

"Congratulations," Fireheart replied, sincerely for once. "Well, I should get going. I don't want to waste too much time. See you around another time, I suppose."

Without waiting for Graystripe's response, he turned and headed back deeper into his own territory. It had been a shock to run into his former Clanmate after so many moons, and even more shocking to realize that he wasn't angry with him anymore. Then again, he supposed it shouldn't have come as a surprise. With everything that had happened recently, he didn't have time to worry about Graystripe's personal life.

Seeing how proud Graystripe was of his kits, Fireheart couldn't help wondering if his own father had felt the same way about him. If he had, did he still feel that way now? Had Thrushpelt abandoned him as well, or did he not even know what Bluestar had done?

There were so many questions that Fireheart wanted to be answered, but he couldn't summon up the courage to ask any of them.

Fireheart, you're stupid. Some of you might recognize the dream from a story I wrote on my Tumblr account. I revised it a little, but it's more or less the same one.

And yes, Blackclaw is dead. Let's throw a party.

-TheShadowedWarrior