The Darkest Hour

  “Onewhisker…” Firestar trailed off, not knowing what to say.

  Onewhisker’s eyes were bright with pain. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He grunted. “You should have seen the other cat.”

  “I wish we’d come in time,” Firestar meowed.

  “I wish you had, too. Look over there.”

  Onewhisker turned his head, and Barkface snapped, “Keep still!”

  Firestar followed the injured warrior’s gaze. Morningflower, the tortoiseshell queen who had been wailing aloud, was crouched over the motionless body of another cat. A small body, with torn ginger-and-white fur.

  “No…” Firestar’s throat closed so he had to choke out the words. “Not Gorsepaw.”

  “Tigerstar killed him.” Onewhisker’s voice was tight with rage. “He pinned him down in the center of the clearing, with his warriors around him so none of us could get close enough to stop him. He…he said he was going to kill him to show the rest of us what we could expect if we refused to join him.”

  Firestar closed his eyes, unable to bear the bloodstained scene in front of him, yet all he could see was an image of the massive leader of TigerClan, paws holding down the helpless apprentice while he challenged the WindClan warriors. A shiver ran through him. He thought back to the time that he and Graystripe had traveled to find WindClan and bring them home after ShadowClan had driven them into exile. Firestar had carried Gorsepaw, then a tiny kit, back across the Thunderpath.

  All of that was wasted now, thanks to Tigerstar. Firestar could not help wondering if Tigerstar had deliberately chosen Gorsepaw because he knew of Firestar’s bond with the young apprentice.

  Opening his eyes, Firestar left Onewhisker and padded softly over to Morningflower, touching her shoulder with his nose to draw her attention.

  She looked up, her beautiful eyes dulled with grief. “Firestar,” she whispered. “I didn’t ever think you’d saved my son for this. What have StarClan done to us?”

  Firestar crouched down beside Morningflower, pressing himself against her side to comfort her, and touched his nose to Gorsepaw’s fur. “He was growing into a fine warrior,” he murmured.

  The sound of another cat roused him; he looked up to see Graystripe. His friend bowed his head, too, and touched Gorsepaw’s fur, mewing a few words of comfort to Morningflower.

  “Firestar, what do you want us to do?” he asked, raising his head again. “We can’t just leave them like this.”

  With a last gentle lick of Morningflower’s ear, Firestar stood up and moved away with his friend. “Take two or three cats on a patrol,” he ordered. “One or two of WindClan, too, if any of them are fit. They’ll know their boundaries better than us. Check to make sure that there are no TigerClan warriors still lurking around. If you find any, you know what to do—chase them off, or kill them if you have to. And bring back as much fresh-kill as you can. WindClan need to eat, and they’re not capable of hunting for themselves.”

  “Right,” meowed Graystripe. He called Sandstorm, Cloudtail, and Dustpelt, and checked with Tallstar for permission to patrol in his territory. Tallstar agreed gratefully, and ordered Webfoot, who had escaped with torn fur and scratches, to go with them and show them the best places for prey.

  “We need to talk,” the WindClan leader mewed to Firestar as he watched the patrol leave. “Tigerstar left a message for you.”

  Firestar pricked his ears. “A message?”

  “He wants both of us to meet him tomorrow at Fourtrees, at sunhigh,” Tallstar replied. “He says he’s tired of waiting. He wants our decision about whether we’ll join TigerClan or not…and he’s shown us what he’ll do if we refuse.”

  He flicked his tail toward the wounded warriors and the limp body of the dead apprentice, all his grief contained in the simple gesture.

  Firestar met his gaze, and the two leaders shared a long look of understanding.

  “I’d rather die than join Tigerstar’s Clan,” Firestar declared at last.

  “So would I,” agreed Tallstar. “And I’m glad to hear you say that. Bluestar was right about you all along. Many cats thought you were too young and inexperienced when she made you her deputy, but you’re showing your quality now. The forest needs cats like you.”

  Firestar bowed his head, humbled by the unexpected praise. “So—we’ll meet tomorrow at Fourtrees,” he meowed.

  Tallstar nodded gravely. “Take my advice, Firestar, and bring some of your warriors with you. When we refuse to join Tigerstar, I don’t imagine he’ll let us walk away without a fight.”

  Firestar felt chilled to the tip of his tail. He could see that the older cat was right. “Then if we have to, we’ll fight together?”

  “Together,” Tallstar promised. “Our Clans will join together like a lion to fight the tiger who prowls our forest.”

  Firestar stared at him in amazement. Tallstar could not know of Bluestar’s prophecy, nor of Firestar’s vision by the stream. And yet he had echoed the words of the prophecy.

  Four will become two; lion and tiger will join in battle. Had StarClan spoken to him as well? Firestar knew that the WindClan leader would not say—what passed between a Clan leader and the spirits of their warrior ancestors was for no other ears. But this echo reminded Firestar that they were leaders together, with the power of two mighty Clans behind them.

  Gazing steadily at the noble black-and-white cat, Firestar meowed, “I swear by StarClan that my Clan will be the friend of yours, to fight this evil side by side.”

  “I swear it too,” Tallstar replied solemnly.

  Firestar raised his head, tasting the air, which still carried a faint trace of the raiding cats. He knew that this vow would run through their blood like cold fire until Tigerstar had been driven from the forest—or until they lost their ninth lives trying.

  CHAPTER 20

  The sun had begun to set over the river, turning the water to a moving sheet of flame and sending a comforting warmth through Firestar’s fur. He stood on the top of Sunningrocks, looking out over RiverClan territory.

  “I wonder what tomorrow will bring,” he murmured.

  Beside him, Sandstorm shook her head, not replying in words but pressing her warm flank close to him. After their return from the devastated WindClan camp, Firestar had asked the pale ginger warrior to patrol with him. He had felt the need to get away from the rest of his Clan for a while to prepare himself for the meeting with Tigerstar. Yet he had not wanted to be completely alone, and Sandstorm’s presence comforted him.

  They had skirted Snakerocks and followed the Thunderpath up to the border with ShadowClan to renew the scent markings as far as Fourtrees; finally they returned along the RiverClan border.

  There was no sign of TigerClan intruders. The borders were secure, and yet Firestar knew that if they had to fight TigerClan the battle would be about so much more than borders. It would be the climax of his conflict with Tigerstar, which had lasted almost since he had first set paw in the forest.

  Firestar lingered on the rocks, savoring the comfort of being alone with Sandstorm. “Tigerstar is determined to make himself ruler of the whole forest,” he meowed. “We must expect a battle.”

  “And ThunderClan will bear the worst of it,” meowed Sandstorm. “How many warriors can WindClan offer us after today?”

  Her voice was troubled, but Firestar knew that, with or without WindClan, every cat in ThunderClan would fight beside him bravely.

  The fiery light was dying. Firestar turned to gaze across his beloved forest. A single star glittered in the violet sky.

  Is that you, Bluestar? Firestar asked silently. Are you still watching over us?

  Fervently he hoped that his former leader was still protecting the Clan she loved. If they survived the next day’s meeting with Tigerstar, and managed to stay free from his quest for absolute power, it would be because StarClan knew that the forest needed four Clans.

  Everything was still and silent. There was no breeze to ruffle the cats’ fur, no sound of prey
scuffling among the rocks. Firestar felt as if the whole forest were holding its breath, waiting for the coming dawn.

  “I love you, Sandstorm,” he murmured, pushing his muzzle against her side.

  Sandstorm turned her head to meet his gaze, her green eyes glowing. “I love you, too,” she replied. “And I know that you’ll bring us through tomorrow, whatever happens.”

  Firestar wished her could share her conviction. But he let himself be soothed by her trust in him. “We need to go and rest,” he mewed.

  The chill of night was gathering by the time they reached the ravine. Frost already sparkled on the grass and the surface of the rocks. As Firestar emerged from the gorse tunnel, a white shape loomed out of the darkness.

  “I was starting to worry about you,” Whitestorm meowed. “I thought you might have run into trouble.”

  “No, we’re fine,” Firestar replied. “There isn’t even a mouse stirring out there.”

  “Pity. We could do with a few.” Whitestorm gave Firestar a quick report on the patrols he had sent out and the watch he had set on the camp. “You get some sleep,” he finished. “It’s going to be a tough day tomorrow.”

  “I will,” Firestar agreed. “Thanks, Whitestorm.”

  The white warrior faded back into the darkness again. “I’m going to check on the sentries,” he meowed as he retreated.

  “You couldn’t have chosen a better deputy,” Sandstorm commented when he was out of earshot.

  “I know. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  Sandstorm looked at Firestar, sadness and wisdom in her green eyes. “You might find out tomorrow,” she meowed. “Or any of the others. If Tigerstar makes us fight, cats are going to die, Firestar.”

  “I know.” But he had not truly thought about what that would mean until now. Some of the sleeping cats around him, the friends he loved, the warriors he trusted, would be lost to him. Win or lose, some of the cats Firestar led out to battle would not come back. And they would die because he had ordered them to fight. A pang of grief shook him, so deep and painful that he almost wailed aloud. “I know,” he repeated. “But what can I do?”

  “Go on.” Sandstorm’s voice was soft. “You’re our leader, Firestar. You have to do your duty. And you do it brilliantly.”

  Humbled, Firestar found nothing to say, and after a moment Sandstorm pressed her muzzle against his. “I’d better get some sleep,” she murmured.

  “No, wait.” Firestar found he could not face the prospect of that solitary den underneath the Highrock, full of shadows. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Come and share my den with me.”

  The ginger she-cat dipped her head. “All right, if you want me to.”

  Firestar gave her ear a quick lick and led the way across the clearing. Even though the curtain of lichen over the entrance to the den had still not grown back after the fire, the den lay in deep shadow.

  More by scent than sight Firestar realized that one of the apprentices had left fresh-kill for him, and he remembered how hungry he was. The prey was a rabbit; he and Sandstorm crouched side by side to share it, swallowing with quick, famished gulps.

  “I needed that,” Sandstorm purred, extending her front paws and arching her back in a long, luxurious stretch. Then she yawned. “I could sleep for a moon.”

  Firestar arranged his mossy bedding to make a sleeping place for her, and she curled up and closed her eyes. “Good night, Firestar,” she murmured.

  Firestar touched his nose to her fur. “Good night.”

  Soon her soft, regular breathing told him she was asleep. For all his weariness, Firestar did not feel ready to curl up beside her. Instead he sat watching while the moon rose and spilled pale light through the entrance to the den, touching Sandstorm’s fur to silver. She was so beautiful, Firestar thought, so precious to him. And yet she too might die tomorrow.

  This is what it means to be a leader, he realized. He did not know if he could endure the pain of it, even though he knew that when dawn came, he would take up the burden StarClan had laid on him.

  Please, StarClan, help me to bear it well, he thought as he settled himself into the moss beside Sandstorm. He took comfort from the warmth of her fur as he let sleep claim him at last.

  CHAPTER 21

  Firestar woke to see the den floor washed by the pale light of sunrise. Beside him, Sandstorm still slept, the moss stirred by her breathing. Careful not to wake her, Firestar rose, stretched, and padded out into the chilly morning.

  The clearing was deserted, but almost at once Whitestorm appeared from the warriors’ den.

  “I’ve sent out the dawn patrol,” he reported. “Brackenfur, Mousefur, and Graystripe. I told them to do a quick sweep up the ShadowClan border and report back to us.”

  “Good,” mewed Firestar. “It would be just like Tigerstar to arrange a meeting at Fourtrees and then mount a raid somewhere else. That’s why I’m leaving you in charge of the camp, with as many warriors as I can spare.”

  “Take all the strength you need,” Whitestorm meowed. “We’ll be fine. Young Brightheart is shaping up to be a really useful fighter ever since she started training with Cloudtail. And the elders can still raise a few claws, if they’re pushed.”

  “They’ll be pushed, before all this is over,” Firestar predicted. “Thanks, Whitestorm. I know I can rely on you.”

  The white warrior nodded and disappeared into the den again. Firestar watched him go, then padded across the clearing to the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt’s den.

  When he reached the medicine cat’s den, he could hear her voice coming from the cleft in the rock.

  “Juniper berries, marigold leaves, poppy seeds…”

  Looking inside, Firestar saw the small gray she-cat checking the heaps of healing herbs and berries ranged alongside the wall of the den.

  “Hi, Cinderpelt,” he mewed. “Everything in order?”

  The medicine cat turned to him with a grave look in her blue eyes. “As much as it’ll ever be.”

  “You think there will definitely be a battle?” Firestar asked her. “Have StarClan spoken to you?”

  Cinderpelt came to join him at the mouth of the den. “No, not a word,” she replied. “But common sense says there’ll be a battle, Firestar. I don’t need an omen from StarClan to tell me that.”

  She was right, Firestar knew, and yet her words chilled him. With such a momentous meeting ahead, why had there been no sign from StarClan? Had their warrior ancestors abandoned them in their time of greatest need? Too late, Firestar wondered if he should have traveled to Highstones to share tongues with StarClan.

  “Do you know why StarClan are silent?” he asked Cinderpelt out loud.

  The medicine cat shook her head. “But I do know something,” she meowed, as if she had read his thoughts. “StarClan haven’t forgotten us. They decreed long ago that there should be four Clans in the forest, and they won’t stand by and let Tigerstar change that forever.”

  As Firestar thanked her and turned away to muster his warriors, he wished he shared her faith.

  A stiff breeze was blowing as Firestar led his warriors up the slope to Fourtrees, rippling the grass and carrying the scent of many cats. Each gust brought a sting of rain from the gray clouds that pushed each other across the sky.

  At the top of the slope, Firestar paused, crouching in the shelter of the bushes to look down into the clearing. Almost at once Cloudtail appeared at his side.

  “Why are we standing about?” he demanded. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “Not until I know what’s going on,” Firestar told him. “For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush.” Facing his warriors, he raised his voice so that they could all hear him. “You all know why we’re here,” he began. “Tigerstar wants us to join his Clan, and he won’t take no for an answer. I’d like to believe we can get out of this without a fight, but I can’t be sure.”

  As he finished speaking, Cloudtail flicked Firestar on the shoulder with his tail
and then pointed to the other side of the hollow. Turning, Firestar saw Tallstar approaching from WindClan territory, followed by his warriors.

  “Good, WindClan are here,” he mewed. “Let’s go and meet them.”

  Firestar led the way along the lip of the hollow until he came face-to-face with the long-tailed black-and-white tom.

  The WindClan leader dipped his head in greeting. “Well met, Firestar. This is a black day for the forest.”

  “It is indeed,” Firestar agreed. “But our Clans will stand for what is right by the warrior code, whatever happens.”

  Firestar was surprised at how many had come with Tallstar. Remembering the wounded and devastated cats in the WindClan camp the day before, he had expected only a small group to come to Fourtrees. Instead practically every warrior must have been there. They still showed the scars of the raid on their camp, but their eyes were bright and determined. Firestar recognized his friend Onewhisker, a long weal showing red along one flank, and Morningflower, her eyes cold with longing to avenge the death of her son.

  Tigerstar might have a nasty shock, Firestar reflected, to see how many of WindClan’s warriors were still ready to fight against him. Taking a deep breath, he meowed, “Let’s go.”

  Tallstar dipped his head. “Lead on, Firestar.”

  Startled at being given such an honor by the older and more experienced leader, Firestar waved his tail to signal to the two united Clans—LionClan, he thought with a rush of pride. This was his destiny.

  He stalked down the slope through the bushes, all his senses alert for attack. But he heard nothing except for the rustle of his own warriors following him. The scent of TigerClan was still some way off.

  As Firestar led his cats into the clearing beneath the great oaks, the bushes on the opposite side parted and Tigerstar stepped out to face him. Blackfoot, Darkstripe, and Leopardstar flanked him like vengeful shadows. The massive tabby’s eyes gleamed as he spotted Firestar, and the young ThunderClan leader realized that this war was personal for him too. Tigerstar wanted nothing more than to sink his claws and teeth into Firestar’s pelt and rip him to pieces.