“Everything,” Cinderheart replied. Her voice was full of pride and excitement. “Because I never knew who you really were. The prophecy is part of you—it was here before you were born!”

She sounds as if she has no regrets at all that we aren’t together anymore. “What about you?” he challenged. “Don’t you matter, too?”

“Of course I do.” Her excitement ebbed and Lionblaze began to sense the sorrow behind her words. “Believe me, I wish that you weren’t part of this prophecy. But you are, and we just have to live with it.”

“But—” Lionblaze tried to interrupt, but Cinderheart swept on.

“You can’t lead your Clanmates into battle worrying about a mate and kits. You’re like a medicine cat—your loyalty must be to the whole Clan, equally.”

“You could say that about any warrior,” Lionblaze retorted.

“No, because you’re one of the Three.” Cinderheart stretched out her tail as if she was going to touch his shoulder, then drew it back at the last moment. “This is the way things are.” Abruptly she turned away. “Let’s hunt.”

Lionblaze gazed helplessly after her. His heart was full of what he wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn’t come. Besides, Cinderheart had already spotted a blackbird, and had dropped into the hunter’s crouch, creeping up on it with stealthy paw steps. Suppressing a sigh, Lionblaze began working his way around to the other side of the blackbird, careful not to make a sound. The bird was intent on pecking at the moss beneath a tree, unaware of the cats closing in on it. When Cinderheart was within a couple of tail-lengths, Lionblaze let out a yowl. The blackbird fluttered up in alarm, straight into Cinderheart’s claws. She batted it out of the air and gave its neck a swift bite.

Lionblaze padded up to see Cinderheart stroking the bird’s limp brown feathers with one paw, her claws sheathed. “It’s a female,” she mewed softly. “Look, there’s moss in her beak. She must have been collecting it for her nest. And now her eggs will never be laid. She’ll never go back to her mate.”

Lionblaze blinked. He couldn’t understand why any warrior would grieve over a piece of fresh-kill. “It was a good catch,” he mewed encouragingly.

“That’s not the point.” Cinderheart was still looking down at the dead bird. “I always wanted a mate and kits,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t my destiny. Never to feel the warmth of fur…never to suckle….”

“You’ll find another mate,” Lionblaze told her, trying to comfort her even though it wrenched his heart. “You can still have kits.”

Cinderheart spun around to face him, blue flame in her eyes. “You don’t understand!” she spat. She gouged at the earth with her hind claws, burying the blackbird. “I’ll hunt alone!” Without waiting for a response from Lionblaze, she plunged away into the trees.

Lionblaze looked after her, baffled. What was all that about? Movement caught his eye and he glanced around to see Leafpool padding toward him. How much of that did she hear?