The Darkest Hour

  Firestar felt a pang of sadness as he remembered how Sorrelkit was always so bright and curious, getting into trouble because of her misguided courage. This limp scrap of fur didn’t look at all adventurous now, and Firestar could only hope that with Cinderpelt’s care she would soon be her lively self again.

  “I followed him a long way,” Sorrelkit went on, sounding rather proud of herself. “I’d never been so far from the camp. I hid from Darkstripe too—he didn’t know I was there. And then he met another cat—a cat I’d never seen before.”

  “What other cat? What did it look like? What scent did it have?” Firestar questioned her urgently.

  Sorrelkit looked bewildered. “I didn’t recognize the scent,” she mewed. Her nose wrinkled. “But it was yucky. He was a big white cat—bigger than you, Firestar. And he had black paws.”

  Firestar stared at her as he realized whom she had seen. “Blackfoot!” he exclaimed. “Tigerstar’s deputy. That was ShadowClan scent you smelled, Sorrelkit.”

  “And what’s Darkstripe doing, meeting the ShadowClan deputy on our territory?” Sandstorm growled. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “So what happened then?” Firestar prompted the kit.

  “I got scared,” Sorrelkit admitted, looking down at her paws. “I ran back to camp, but I think Darkstripe must have heard me, because he caught up with me in the ravine. I thought he would be angry because I spied on him, but he told me how clever I was. He gave me some red berries for a special treat. They looked tasty, but when I ate them I started to feel really ill…. And I don’t remember anything else, except waking up here.”

  She sank her head on her paws again as she finished, as if telling the long story had exhausted her.

  Cinderpelt nosed her gently, checking her breathing. “Those were deathberries,” she mewed. “You must never, ever touch them again.”

  “I won’t, Cinderpelt, I promise,” murmured the tiny kit.

  “Thank you, Sorrelkit,” Firestar meowed. He was angry but not surprised to discover that Graystripe had been right all along. The real shock was the news that Blackfoot had been seen on ThunderClan territory, and that Darkstripe had obviously arranged to meet him.

  “What are you going to do about Darkstripe?” asked Sandstorm.

  “I’ll have to question him,” Firestar replied. “But I don’t expect he’ll tell me anything.”

  “He can’t stay in ThunderClan after this,” Sandstorm pointed out, her voice hard as flint. “There’s more than one cat who would rip his throat out for a couple of mouse tails.”

  “Leave him to me,” Firestar mewed grimly.

  Cinderpelt stayed with Sorrelkit, who was drifting off to sleep again, while Firestar returned to the main clearing with Sandstorm. Many of the cats were still there, sharing tongues after the earlier meeting. Whitestorm was heading for the gorse tunnel with Goldenflower and Longtail.

  The patrol turned back and all the cats looked up, startled, as Firestar bounded to the top of the Highrock and yowled the summons to another meeting. His gaze sought out Darkstripe, but there was no sign of him.

  “Where’s Darkstripe?” he meowed at Graystripe as his friend made his way to the base of the rock.

  “In the den,” Graystripe replied.

  “Fetch him.”

  Graystripe disappeared into the warriors’ den, and emerged a moment later with Darkstripe and Brackenfur by his side. All three cats returned to the base of the Highrock, where Darkstripe sat and looked up at Firestar with a sneer on his face.

  “Well?” he asked. “What does our noble leader want now?”

  Firestar met his eyes steadily. “Sorrelkit is awake.”

  For a few heartbeats Darkstripe held his gaze, and then he looked away. “Have you called a Clan meeting to tell us that?” His tone was scoffing, but his fur had bristled uneasily at the news.

  “Cats of ThunderClan.” Firestar raised his voice. “I’ve called you together so that you can witness what Darkstripe has to say. You all heard what happened to Sorrelkit yesterday. She’s awake now, and Cinderpelt says she’ll be fine. I’ve talked to her and she confirms what Graystripe said. Darkstripe did feed her the death berries. So, Darkstripe”—his gaze went back to the dark warrior below—“what have you to say for yourself?”

  “She’s lying,” Darkstripe retorted. An angry hiss came from more than one of the cats around him, and he added, blustering, “Or she made a mistake. Kits never listen to what any cat says. She obviously didn’t hear me properly when I told her not to eat them.”

  “She’s not lying or mistaken,” Firestar meowed. “And she told me something even more interesting: your reason for feeding her the deathberries. She saw you meeting Blackfoot, the deputy of ShadowClan, on our territory. Would you like to tell us what that was all about?”

  More furious snarls came from the Clan, and a cat at the back of the crowd yowled, “Traitor!” Firestar had to signal with his tail for silence, and it was several moments before the angry cats quieted down again.

  Darkstripe waited until he could make himself heard. “I don’t have to justify myself to a kittypet,” he growled.

  Firestar’s claws scraped against the rock beneath his paws, and he felt reassured by their sharpness. “That’s exactly what you have to do. I want to know what you and Tigerstar are planning.” Panic suddenly flooded over him, and he forced it back. “Darkstripe, you know what Tigerstar tried to do to us. The dog pack would have torn the whole Clan to pieces. How can you even think of following him after that?”

  Darkstripe met his eyes resentfully and did not reply. Firestar remembered how he had caught him on the morning the pack attacked, trying to slip away from the camp with Tigerstar’s kits. Darkstripe had known that Tigerstar was planning something; he would have abandoned the rest of the Clan to a ghastly death without even trying to warn them. That was what his loyalty to ThunderClan was worth.

  Firestar wanted to be fair, so that no cat, not even Darkstripe himself, could accuse him of persecuting Tigerstar’s former allies. Even more than that, Firestar was still afraid of what Darkstripe might do if he left ThunderClan and was free to go to Tigerstar. But he was left with no choice. Exile was the only possible sentence for a cat guilty of Darkstripe’s crimes.

  “You could have been a valuable warrior,” he went on to Darkstripe. “I gave you one chance after another to prove yourself. I wanted to trust you, and—”

  “Trust me?” Darkstripe interrupted. “You’ve never trusted me. Do you think I didn’t know you told that ginger fool to watch me?” He spat the last words toward Brackenfur, still seated beside him. “Did you expect me to live the rest of my days with a shadow?”

  “No. I was waiting for you to show your loyalty.” Firestar crouched on the rock and held Darkstripe’s furious gaze without flinching. “This is the Clan where you were born; these are the cats you grew up with. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? The warrior code says you should protect them with your life!”

  As Darkstripe rose to his paws Firestar thought he could see fear flickering in his eyes, as if the dark warrior had never intended to make a final break with ThunderClan. He could not be sure, after all, that Tigerstar would welcome him; he had refused to follow the former deputy into exile, and he had failed in his attempt to take Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw to their father before the attack from the dogs. Tigerstar was not a cat who forgave easily.

  But there was no trace of fear or regret in Darkstripe’s voice as he spoke. “This is not my Clan,” he hissed scornfully, to gasps of shock from the warriors around him. “Not any longer. ThunderClan is led by a kittypet, and there’s nothing left to fight for. I feel no loyalty to ThunderClan. In the whole forest, the only cat worth following is Tigerstar.”

  “Then follow him,” Firestar retorted. “You are no longer a warrior of ThunderClan. If you are found in our territory after sunset today, we shall treat you as we would any enemy. Go now.”

  Darkstripe’s burning gaze held Firesta
r’s for a moment longer, but he did not reply. Unhurriedly, he turned his back on Firestar and stalked toward the camp entrance. The cats nearby drew back as he passed them.

  “You know what will be waiting for you if you try to come back,” Cloudtail snarled, curling his lip. Willowpelt said nothing, but spat, her fur bristling.

  As soon as the tip of Darkstripe’s tail had vanished into the tunnel, a murmur of speculation broke out among the crowd of cats. One voice rose up clearly. “Has Darkstripe gone to ShadowClan?” asked Tawnypaw.

  She had not joined in the Clan’s protests when Firestar had tried to force Darkstripe to admit his guilt. Instead she had watched everything in silent fascination, her eyes following the dark warrior every pawstep of the way to the tunnel. She looked shocked and sickened, but there was something else in her expression that Firestar could not read.

  He froze as she asked her question. This apprentice knew that her father was the leader of ShadowClan. Did she understand the full extent of Darkstripe’s treachery?

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Darkstripe can go where he likes. From now on he is not a member of ThunderClan.”

  “Does that mean we can chase him out of the territory if we see him?” Whitestorm called.

  “Yes, it does,” Firestar replied. Addressing all the cats, he added, “If you scent him, or any ShadowClan cats, tell me or Whitestorm. And that reminds me—this morning Thornclaw scented rogue cats on our territory. Keep a lookout for them, too, and report anything you find.”

  Giving the orders helped him calm down. He could not help feeling the first creeping sensations of relief that at last he had Darkstripe out of his fur. There would be no more kittypet taunts, no more worries about whether all the Clan’s business was being relayed straight to Tigerstar. Even though Firestar was worried about what Darkstripe would do now, there was more gain than loss in the dark warrior’s departure. Yet still Firestar could not help wishing that he could have earned his loyalty.

  “Hey, Firestar!” Dustpelt’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “What about Fernpaw? She hasn’t got a mentor now.”

  “Thanks, Dustpelt, I’ll deal with that right away. Fernpaw, come up to the rock.”

  Fernpaw obeyed, leaving Dustpelt’s side to step delicately around the cats in her way until she stood at the foot of the Highrock.

  Firestar glanced around to make sure the warrior he wanted was present, and hastily summoned the right words. “Longtail, you are without an apprentice since Swiftpaw died. You were an excellent mentor to him, and I expect you to pass on your skills to Fernpaw for the rest of her apprenticeship.”

  Longtail sprang to his paws, his eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. Firestar beckoned him with his tail, hoping that with Darkstripe gone the last of the hostility between himself and Longtail could be buried. The pale tabby warrior could easily be a fine member of the Clan.

  Still looking stunned, Longtail padded up to Fernpaw and touched noses with her. Fernpaw dipped her head and both cats withdrew to where Dustpelt and Ashpaw were sitting.

  Firestar leaped down from the Highrock. Now that everything was over exhaustion hit him like a blow from a badger’s paw. What he wanted more than anything was to curl up with his friends in the warriors’ den, to share tongues and sleep. But as leader of the Clan, he couldn’t do that.

  Darkstripe’s treachery and the knowledge that ShadowClan cats were on his territory had revived all the memories of his nine-lives ceremony. Why had the hill of bones appeared in his dream, and the river of blood that had flowed from it? What did Bluestar’s prophecy mean?

  Desperate for answers, Firestar decided he would go to Cinderpelt’s den to see if the medicine cat had received any guidance from StarClan.

  To his relief, Sandstorm was no longer on guard; he did not want the ginger she-cat to see him like this. Sorrelkit was asleep in her nest, and from the mouth of the split rock came faint sounds of Cinderpelt moving around inside. Firestar went closer and saw her rearranging the piles of healing herbs and berries that she kept there.

  “Nearly out of juniper…” she muttered, then saw Firestar. “What’s the matter? What’s happened now?”

  She limped out of the den and came up to him, nosing him anxiously as she smelled his fear-scent. “Firestar, what’s wrong?”

  Firestar shook his head to clear it of apprehension. It was a relief to go right back to the beginning, and tell Cinderpelt about the dream that had come to him as he lay beside the Moonstone.

  Cinderpelt sat beside him and listened in silence, her steady gaze never leaving his face.

  “Bluestar told me, ‘Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest,’” Firestar finished. “And then blood oozed out of the hill of bones and started to fill the hollow. Blood everywhere…Cinderpelt, what does it all mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Cinderpelt confessed. “StarClan have not shown me any of this. Just as they have the power to show me what will happen, so they can choose not to share with me. I’m sorry, Firestar—but I’ll keep thinking about it, and maybe something will happen to make it clearer soon.”

  She pushed her nose against Firestar’s fur to comfort him, but though Firestar was grateful for her sympathy, he could not forget the horror of his dream. What dreadful fate lay in store for him? And if even Cinderpelt could not answer that question, what hope was there for ThunderClan?

  CHAPTER 11

  Firestar emerged from the forest near Sunningrocks and paused to taste the air. The sun was rising behind him, sending long shadows from the forest toward the river. Several days had passed since Darkstripe had left ThunderClan, and so far the patrols had not brought any news of him, nor of ShadowClan cats in the territory. But the memory of Firestar’s dream was still too sharp for him to believe that the threat from the territory beyond the Thunderpath was over.

  Graystripe and Thornclaw padded out of the trees behind him. “Smell anything?” Graystripe asked.

  Firestar shrugged. “Only RiverClan cats. No more than I’d expect, this close to the border. But I want to make sure that they haven’t been near Sunningrocks.”

  “We’ll renew the scent markings,” meowed Graystripe. “Come on, Thornclaw.”

  While his friends disappeared into the gullies among the rocks, Firestar remained where he was, carefully drawing the air over his scent glands. Though he was worried about ShadowClan, he had not forgotten RiverClan or their ambitious leader, Leopardstar. She had tried to retake Sunning-rocks not long before, and Firestar would not be surprised if she decided to try again.

  Not many moments passed before he detected fresh RiverClan scent. Instantly suspicious, he padded around the base of the rocks, only to relax a few moments later as he caught sight of Mistyfoot. She was alone, crouched at the very edge of the river, and as Firestar watched she scooped a fish out of the water and killed it with one blow of her paw.

  “Well done!” Firestar called.

  Mistyfoot turned, saw him, and padded up the gently sloping bank as far as the border. Firestar went to meet her there, glad to see that she still looked friendly in spite of the way she had left the ThunderClan camp. But he noticed with alarm that Mistyfoot was much thinner than when he had last seen her, and he wondered if something bad had happened following the revelation that Bluestar had been her mother.

  “How are you, Mistyfoot?” he meowed. “I hope there hasn’t been any trouble.”

  “About me and Stonefur?” Mistyfoot replied, guessing his thoughts. She hesitated. “Stonefur told the Clan the truth about Bluestar,” she meowed at last. “Some of them didn’t like it. One or two of them won’t talk to us at all now, and most of them are a bit uneasy with us.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Firestar mewed. “What about Leopardstar? Has she said anything?”

  “I could tell she wasn’t pleased. She supported us in front of the Clan, but I think she has an eye on us all the same, to make sure we’re still loyal.”
br />   “Of course you’re loyal!” Firestar exclaimed.

  “Yes, and the rest of the Clan will realize it sooner or later. Besides…” Mistyfoot paused again, and then went on. “That isn’t the worst of our problems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tigerstar.” Mistyfoot shivered. “He visits Leopardstar regularly, and I can’t work out why. I’m sure they’re planning something.”

  A jolt of fear shot through Firestar. “Planning what?”

  Mistyfoot twitched her ears. “I’ve no idea. Leopardstar hasn’t told Stonefur, even though he’s her deputy. But there are a couple of ShadowClan warriors stationed permanently in our camp.”

  “What? That shouldn’t happen! It must be against the warrior code!”

  Mistyfoot shrugged, looking defeated. “Try telling that to Leopardstar.”

  “But what are they doing there?”

  “Leopardstar says that they’re staying with us so the Clans can exchange training methods and fighting techniques, but I don’t see much sign of it. All they do is watch…. It’s like they’re learning all about us, all our secrets and weaknesses.” Mistyfoot’s fur bristled as if she saw her enemies in front of her. “That’s why I came over here, to get away from them for a bit.”

  “That’s terrible,” Firestar meowed. “What is Leopardstar thinking?”

  “You want my opinion? She wants to do the best for her Clan and she thinks Tigerstar is the strongest leader in the forest, so she’s set out to be his ally.”

  “I’m not sure Tigerstar has allies,” Firestar warned her. “Only followers.”

  Mistyfoot nodded. “I know.” She sat down, licked one paw, and drew it two or three times over her ear.

  Firestar wondered if she was regretting saying so much to a warrior of another Clan. “How is the prey running?” he asked, hoping to distract her. “At least the river hasn’t frozen yet.”

  “Not yet. Prey’s scarce, but that’s nothing new.” Mistyfoot flicked her ears dismissively. “It’s leaf-bare, after all. And those two warriors of Tigerclaw’s don’t help,” she added. “They sit there in camp stuffing their faces, but they never bring back much fresh-kill.”