The Darkest Hour (21 page)

“I see why you're called Dustpelt,” Cloudtail joked as the brown warrior got up again, shaking his fur.

“Well done, Brightheart,” Firestar called.

He twitched his ears to draw Cloudtail a little way away. “I hoped you'd be here,” he meowed quietly. “I'm going to see Princess, and I thought you might want to come too.”

Cloudtail's ears pricked. “Are you going to warn her?”

“Yes. With BloodClan on the prowl, she should know of the danger. I know she doesn't often go into the forest, but even so…”

“I'll be right with you,” Cloudtail meowed, padding back for a word with Brightheart.

A moment later the two cats were heading for Tallpines, Firestar calling good-bye to Graystripe as they left the hollow. The pale sunlight of leaf-bare fell on the ash that still remained from the fire. The few plants that had returned were dry and shriveled, and there was neither sound nor scent of prey. This leaf-bare would have been hard enough, Firestar reflected, without the extra trouble from BloodClan.

When they reached the Twoleg nest where Princess lived, Firestar was relieved to see the pretty tabby she-cat sitting on the garden fence. She let out a trill of welcome as he raced across the open ground at the edge of the forest and leaped up onto the fence beside her. Cloudtail followed him in a couple of heartbeats.

Fireheart!” Princess exclaimed, pressing her muzzle against his flank. “And Cloudtail! It's so good to see you both. Are you well?”

“Yes, we're fine,” Firestar replied.

“He's Clan leader now,” Cloudtail put in. “You have to call him Fire
star
.”

“Clan leader? That's wonderful!” Princess let out a deep, delighted purr. Firestar knew she was proud of him even though she had no real understanding of what that
meant—either the grief of Bluestar's death or the heavyweight of responsibility that went with leadership. “I'm so pleased for you,” Princess went on. “But you're both very thin,” she added doubtfully, drawing back to inspect her brother and her son. “Are you eating properly?”

It was hard to answer that question. Firestar and all the Clan cats were used to feeling hungry in this hard leaf-bare, but Princess had no way of knowing how scarce prey was, not when her Twolegs fed her the same kittypet food every day.

“We're doing well enough,” Cloudtail repeated impatiently, before Firestar could reply. “But we came to tell you to stay out of the forest. There are evil cats around.”

Firestar flashed an irritated look at his hoth eaded kin; he would have tried to find a gentler way of warning Princess. “Cats from Twolegplace have come into the forest,” he explained, pressing himself comfortingly against Princess's side. “They're fierce creatures, but they should leave you alone.”

“I've seen them slinking through the trees,” Princess admitted, her voice hushed. “And I've heard stories about them. Apparently they even kill dogs and other cats.”

The tales were true, Firestar reflected, remembering the teeth studding Scourge's collar. And before very long, there would be more deaths to Scourge's name.

“All good storytellers exaggerate,” he told Princess, hoping he sounded convincing. “You don't need to worry, but it would be best if you stayed in your own garden.”

Princess held his gaze steadily, and Firestar realized that for once she wasn't deceived by his lighthearted tone. “I'll do
that,” she promised. “And I'll warn the other house cats.”

“Good.” Cloudtail meowed. “And don't worry about a thing. We'll soon get rid of BloodClan.”

“BloodClan!” Princess echoed, and a shiver passed through her. “Firestar, you're in danger, aren't you?”

Firestar nodded, suddenly unwilling to treat her like a soft kittypet who couldn't cope with the truth. “Yes,” he replied. “BloodClan have given us three days to get out of the forest. We don't intend to leave, so that means we have to fight them.”

Princess went on giving him that long, thoughtful look. The tip of her tail swept around and touched a scar on his flank, an old wound from a battle so long ago that he had forgotten which one it was. Firestar had a sudden vision of how he must appear to her: gaunt and ragged in spite of his lean muscles, his battle-marked pelt a constant reminder of the harshness of his forest life.

“I know you'll do your best,” she mewed quietly. “The Clan couldn't have a better leader.”

“I hope you're right,” Firestar meowed. “This is the worst threat to the Clan that we've ever had to face.”

“And you'll come through it; I know you will.” Princess rasped her tongue over his ear and pressed close against him. Firestar smelled her fear-scent, but she stayed calm, and her gentle features were unusually serious. “Come back safely, Firestar,” she whispered. “Please.”

After they said good-bye to
Princess, Cloudtail went off to hunt, leaving Firestar to return to the camp alone. Twilight was gathering by the time he reached the ravine, and he scented Whitestorm before he spotted the pale warrior ahead of him. Firestar caught up to him just before he reached the gorse tunnel; he had a vole clamped in his jaws, and set it down when he saw Firestar.

“I was hoping for a word with you,” he began, without even waiting for a greeting. “And it's best out here, where no cat will overhear us.”

Firestar's heart lurched. “What's the matter? Has something gone wrong?”

“You mean apart from Scourge?” the older warrior meowed wryly. He settled himself on a flat rock and beckoned with his tail for Firestar to join him. “No, nothing's wrong. The patrols and the training are going well…but I keep asking myself, have we really thought about what we're doing?”

Firestar stared at him. “What do you mean?”

The ThunderClan deputy took a deep, painful breath.
“Scourge and his Clan outnumber us by many, even with WindClan fighting on our side. I know our warriors will fight to the last drop of blood to save the forest, but perhaps the price will be too high.”

“Are you saying we should give in?” Firestar's voice sharpened; he had never expected to hear advice like this from his deputy. If Whitestorm's courage hadn't been beyond question, he would have said it was the speech of a coward. “Leave the forest?”

“I don't know.” Whitestorm sounded tired, and Firestar was suddenly reminded of his age. “Things are changing, no cat can deny that, and perhaps it's time to move on. There must be territory beyond Highstones. We could find another place—”

“Never!” Firestar interrupted. “The forest is
ours
.”

“You're young.” Whitestorm looked solemnly at him. “You would see it that way. But cats are going to die, Firestar.”

“I know.” All day Firestar had kept busy, encouraging his warriors—and himself—with thoughts of a victory over Scourge. Now Whitestorm was forcing him to face the fact that even if they won, it would be at a terrible cost. ThunderClan might drive the invading cats from the forest and still be left with few survivors, as weakened as if they had been defeated.

“We
must
go on,” he meowed. “We can't turn tail and run like mice. You're right, Whitestorm, I know you are, but what other choice have we? It
can't
be the will of StarClan for us to leave the forest.”

Whitestorm nodded. “I thought you would say that. Well,
I've told you what I think. That's what a deputy's for.”

“I'm grateful for it, Whitestorm.”

The white warrior rose to his paws, turned toward his vole, and then glanced back at Firestar. “I've never had the kind of ambition that drove Tigerstar—or you,” he meowed. “I've never wanted to be leader. But I'm particularly glad I'm not leader now. No sane cat would envy you the decisions you have to make.”

Firestar blinked, not knowing what to say.

“All I hope for,” Whitestorm went on, “is that I'll fight my hardest when the time comes.”

A shadow of uncertainty crossed his face, and Firestar realized that many cats would have joined the elders by Whitestorm's age. It would be natural for him to fear that his fighting strength might fail.

“I know you will,” he agreed. “There's no nobler warrior in the whole forest.”

Whitestorm held his gaze for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he picked up his vole and padded into the camp.

Firestar stayed on the rock. Whitestorm's words had disturbed him, and he was suddenly reluctant to go back into camp and settle in his shadowy den under the Highrock. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

After a few moments listening to the soft sounds of the gathering night, Firestar rose and headed back up the ravine. Faint red streaks showed where the sun had gone down, but overhead the sky was dark, and a few early
warriors of StarClan looked down at him.

Firestar slipped silently through the undergrowth, and it was some time before he realized that his paws were taking him toward Sunningrocks. By the time he reached the edge of the trees it was completely dark. The rounded shapes of the rocks were outlined against the sky like the backs of crouching animals, with a shimmer of frost on the surface. Beyond them he could hear the soft bubble of the river over stones, and much closer a faint scuffling noise alerted him to the presence of prey.

Firestar's mouth watered as he identified the scent of a mouse. Barely letting his paws touch the ground, he crept up on it and sprang. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until his jaws closed on it, and he finished it in a few ravenous gulps.

Feeling better, Firestar sprang up to the top of the rock and found a place where he could sit and look down at the river. The dark water glittered with starlight. A breeze ruffled the surface, buffeting his fur and stirring the leafless forest around him.

Firestar turned his gaze upward to Silverpelt. The warriors of StarClan were watching—but they seemed cold and far away on this frosty night. Did they really care about what happened in the forest? Or had Bluestar been right all along, when she raged against them in her private war? For a moment Firestar caught a glimpse of his former leader's terrible sense of isolation. He could not truly share it, for unlike Bluestar he had never lost faith in the warriors of his own
Clan, but he was beginning to understand how she had come to doubt StarClan.

So many cats had already died in Tigerstar's fierce struggle for power, and StarClan had not saved them. Firestar wondered if he was being foolish to think that his warrior ancestors would help him now.

But without StarClan, how
could
his Clan survive? Lifting his head, he yowled to the glory of Silverpelt: “Show me what I should do! Show me that you're with us!”

No answer came from the white fire above him.

Painfully aware of how small and weak he was compared with the sky-spread StarClan, Firestar found a hollow in the rock that was sheltered from the chill breeze. He did not expect to sleep, but he was exhausted, and after a while his eyes closed.

He dreamed that he was seated in Fourtrees, his senses lulled by the warm air and sweet scents of greenleaf. The warriors of StarClan surrounded him on all four slopes, as they had done on his visit to the Moonstone when he received the nine lives of a Clan leader. He saw Spottedleaf and Yellowfang there, and all the warriors who were lost to ThunderClan, as well as others, newly added to the shining ranks: Stonefur and the young apprentice Gorsepaw.

In his dream Firestar sprang to his paws and confronted them. For the first time he did not feel in awe of his warrior ancestors. It seemed as if they had abandoned him, and the whole forest, to their terrifying fate. “You rule the forest!” hissed Firestar, letting all his anger at their betrayal spill out.
“You sent the storm on the night of the Gathering, so that I couldn't tell the Clans what Tigerstar had done. You allowed him to bring Scourge into the forest! Why are you doing this to us? Do you
want
us to be destroyed?”

A familiar figure stepped forward; Bluestar's gray-blue fur shimmered in the starshine, and her eyes were blue fire. “Firestar, you don't understand,” she meowed. “StarClan do
not
rule the forest.”

Firestar gaped at her, with nothing to say. Was everything wrong, then, that he had learned since he came into the forest as a kittypet, so long ago?

“StarClan cares for every cat in the forest,” Bluestar continued, “from the blind, helpless kit to the oldest elder lying in the sun. We watch over them. We send omens and dreams to the medicine cats. But the storm was no doing of ours. Scourge and Tigerstar wade through blood to power because that is their nature. We watch,” the former leader repeated, “but we do not interfere. If we did, would you truly be free? Firestar, you and every cat have the choice of whether or not to follow the warrior code. You are not the playthings of StarClan.”

“But—” Firestar tried to interrupt.

Bluestar ignored him. “And now we're watching you. You are the cat we have chosen, Firestar. You are the fire who will save the Clan. No warrior of StarClan brought you here. You came of your own accord because you have a warrior's spirit and the heart of a true Clan cat. Your faith in StarClan will give you the strength you need.”

As she spoke, a sense of peace crept over Firestar. He felt as though Bluestar's strength and the strength of all the warriors of StarClan were flowing into him. Whatever happened when his Clan met BloodClan in battle, Firestar knew StarClan had not abandoned him.

Bluestar rested her muzzle on his head just as she had done on the day he was made a warrior. At her touch, the pale fire of the assembled warriors began to fade, and Firestar sank into the warm darkness of deep sleep. When he opened his eyes, it was to see the first light of dawn staining the sky.

Firestar rose and stretched, the memory of his dream filling his paws with energy. It was his duty as leader to save his Clan. And with the strength of StarClan to help him, he would find a way to do it.