The Darkest Hour

  Firestar felt every hair on his pelt bristle at the thought of a Clan that did not care for cats who were in need, where cats who had given good service were allowed to die if they could not care for themselves.

  “Then why does any cat follow Scourge?” he burst out.

  “Some of them enjoy killing.” Barley’s tone was cold and his eyes were bleak, staring at something Firestar could not see. “And others are too scared to do anything else. You can’t lead your own life in Twolegplace if you’re not a kittypet with a Twoleg nest to go to. Either you’re with Scourge or against him, and cats who are against him don’t last long.”

  Ravenpaw shifted closer to his friend and pressed his muzzle comfortingly against his flank. “That’s why Barley left,” he meowed. “Tell Firestar about it, Barley.”

  “There’s nothing much to tell.” Barley flinched, shrinking from some dark memory. “I couldn’t bear what Scourge was doing, so one night I slipped away. I was terrified that Scourge or his warriors would catch me, but I reached the edge of Twolegplace and crossed the Thunderpath. I scented cats in the forest, but at the time I thought they would be just like Scourge and his lot, so I kept away from them. And finally I came to the farm, where it seemed I could live unchallenged. The Twolegs leave me in peace. They have no use for their mice.”

  He fell silent while Firestar thought rapidly. Barley’s words confirmed what he had already known, that Scourge was a violent and dangerous enemy. “Scourge must have weaknesses,” he meowed to Barley. “There must be some way of defeating him.”

  Barley met his eyes and leaned toward Firestar. “His one great strength is his one great weakness,” he replied. “Scourge and his warriors don’t believe in StarClan.”

  Firestar wondered what he meant. Cloudtail had no belief in StarClan, but he was still a loyal ThunderClan cat. What was Barley trying to tell him?

  “BloodClan has no medicine cat,” Barley went on. “I’ve already told you, they don’t care for the sick, and if they don’t believe in StarClan, there aren’t any signs that could be interpreted.”

  “Then…they don’t follow the warrior code?” That had been a stupid question, Firestar realized as soon as the words were out. Everything Barley had told him, everything he had seen for himself of the way Scourge and his cats behaved, confirmed that. “And you’re telling me that’s a weakness? All it means is they can do as they like, with no code of honor to stop them.”

  “That’s true,” Barley admitted. “But think, Firestar. Without the warrior code you might be just as bloodthirsty as Scourge. You might even be better at fighting him. But without the belief in StarClan—what are you then?”

  He met Firestar’s eyes steadily. Firestar’s head reeled. After what Barley had told him he dreaded BloodClan even more, and yet somewhere in his mind there was a faint spark of hope, as if StarClan were trying to tell him something that he couldn’t understand—or not yet.

  “Thank you, Barley,” he meowed. “I’ll think about what you’ve told me. And I won’t forget that you tried to help us.”

  “That’s not all we’ll do.” Ravenpaw rose to his paws. “Onewhisker told us that you’re meeting Scourge in battle in three days—two days, now. When you do, we’ll both be with you.”

  Firestar stared at him, mouth open. “But you’re loners,” he began. “It’s not your quarrel….”

  “Come on, Firestar,” Barley mewed. “If Scourge and his gang take over the forest, how long do you think we would last? It wouldn’t take them a quarter moon to find our barn and all the plump mice. We’d have the choice of getting out or being killed.”

  “We’d rather fight for our friends,” Ravenpaw added quietly.

  “Thank you.” Firestar felt humbled by the depth of loyalty the two loners were showing to him. “All the Clans will honor you.”

  Barley snorted. “I don’t know about that. All I want is a quiet life—but I won’t get it until BloodClan is dealt with.”

  “None if us will.” Firestar’s ears twitched in agreement. “There’s no hope for any of us while Scourge is in the forest.”

  Firestar had said good-bye to Ravenpaw and Barley and was heading for the sandy hollow to check up on the training program when he spotted Longtail and Frostfur leaping down the ravine. Firestar paused and waited for them.

  “Any news?” he asked.

  Longtail nodded. “We’ve been along the ShadowClan border as far as Fourtrees,” he reported. “There’s a reek of BloodClan coming from ShadowClan territory. You get the foul stink in your nose even from across the Thunderpath.”

  “They must be hiding out over there,” Frostfur added.

  “That makes sense,” Firestar mewed thoughtfully. “But where has ShadowClan gone?”

  “I was coming to that.” Longtail’s eyes were wide with excitement. “We picked up their scent at Fourtrees—the scent of many cats traveling in the same direction. I believe they crossed into RiverClan territory.”

  “So they went to their allies in RiverClan,” Firestar mused. He wondered what sort of a welcome they would get. Would Leopardstar try to regain her old authority now that Tigerstar was dead?

  Firestar shrugged. He had problems enough of his own without worrying about Leopardstar’s. “Thanks, Longtail,” he meowed. “We needed to know that. Go and get something to eat.”

  With a nod of acknowledgment, Longtail led the way into the gorse tunnel with Frostfur close behind him. Firestar stood watching them go, and when the tip of Frostfur’s tail had vanished he went on to watch his cats training.

  Graystripe was standing on a jutting slab of rock overlooking the apprentices. He pricked his ears in greeting as Firestar came to join him.

  “How is it going?”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Graystripe replied. “If Scourge could see us, he’d bolt straight back to Twolegplace with his tail between his legs.”

  The gray warrior was wearing a look of stubborn determination that Firestar remembered from the days of his forbidden relationship with Silverstream. Briefly he wished that he could tell Graystripe about seeing Silverstream in his dream at the Moonstone, but it wouldn’t help his friend’s grief. The beautiful she-cat was still dead, and Firestar hoped it would be a long time before Graystripe joined her in the ranks of StarClan.

  “At any rate,” Graystripe went on, “we’re the best fighting force this forest has ever seen.” His eyes widened as his gaze fell on a mock fight between Bramblepaw and Thornclaw. “Hang on a minute, I need to give Bramblepaw a tip about his clawing action.”

  He leaped down from the rock and bounded across the hollow, leaving Firestar to look around. Closest to him, Speckletail and Smallear were stalking around each other, waiting for a chance to spring. Sandstorm was instructing Willowpelt’s three kits on the other side of the hollow. Firestar padded down to watch and he heard her meowing, “Okay, I’m a BloodClan warrior and I’ve just broken into your camp. What are you going to—“

  The last word became a screech as Sorrelkit pounced and bit down hard on her tail. Sandstorm spun around, one forepaw raised with claws sheathed, but before she could bat Sorrelkit away, Sootkit and Rainkit jumped on her from behind. The ginger she-cat vanished under a writhing mass of kits.

  By the time Firestar reached her, she was struggling free of them, her green eyes alight with laughter. “Well done!” she meowed. “If I really was from BloodClan, I’d be running scared by now.” Turning to Firestar, she added, “Hi, there. Did you see these three? In a few moons they’ll make great warriors!”

  “I’m sure they will,” Firestar mewed. “You’re doing very well,” he praised them. “And no cat could teach you better than Sandstorm.”

  “I want Sandstorm to be my mentor when I’m an apprentice,” Sorrelkit meowed. “Can she, Firestar?”

  “No, I want her!” Sootkit protested.

  Rainkit added, “No, I do!”

  Shaking her head, Sandstorm let out a mrrow of laughter. “Firestar will decide who your me
ntors will be,” she told the kits. “Now let him see you practice those defensive moves.”

  Firestar watched while the kits scuffled together, pretending to attack and defend themselves. Even though they were excited, they managed to remember what Sandstorm had taught them, dodging expertly or dashing in to give their mock attacker a quick nip.

  “They’re good,” Sandstorm commented quietly. “Especially that little Sorrelkit.” With a sidelong glance at Firestar, she added, “If you asked me to mentor her, I wouldn’t say no.”

  “Just between you and me, she’s yours when the time comes,” Firestar promised, blinking gently at her.

  Even though he and Sandstorm, the kits, and all the Clan were standing on the brink of disaster, Firestar still could not suppress a burst of pride and hope. Pressing his muzzle against Sandstorm’s side, he murmured, “We’ll win the battle. I have to believe that.”

  Sandstorm did not reply in words, but the look she gave him said everything.

  Leaving her to go on with her lesson, Firestar crossed the hollow to the far side, where Cloudtail and Brightheart were training with Ashpaw and Dustpelt. Brightheart had just bowled Dustpelt over; he got up, spitting out sand, and meowed, “I never saw that move coming! Show me again.”

  Brightheart dropped into a crouch, but relaxed a moment later when she saw Firestar.

  Cloudtail padded over to him, his tail held high. “Did you see that?” he asked proudly. “Brightheart fights really well now.”

  “Carry on,” Firestar prompted her. “This looks interesting.”

  Brightheart flashed him a nervous look from her one good eye, and then turned back to concentrate. Dustpelt was trying to creep up on her blind side, but she weaved back and forth, keeping him in view the whole time. When he sprang, she slipped under his outstretched paws and hit his back legs to roll him onto the ground again.

  “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 Firestar.”

  “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.”

  CHAPTER 25

  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 expe
cted 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.”