The Darkest Hour
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.
CHAPTER 26
Firestar wondered if the rest of his Clan had noticed his absence, and if they were worrying about him. He knew that he should go back to the camp, but for a short time he stayed where he was on top of the rock, watching the dawn light spread above the forest.
The territory on the far side of the river was still and silent. Firestar tried to imagine how Leopardstar was coping. He guessed that the ShadowClan warriors who had fled into her territory would be unwelcome guests, with no prey to spare through the harsh moons of leaf-bare.
Then he sat bolt upright, fur bristling and ears pricked. Something had just occurred to him, and he couldn’t think why he hadn’t thought of it before. Maybe ThunderClan wasn’t as outnumbered as he feared. Across the river were the warriors of two Clans, and with Tigerstar dead none of them had any reason to support BloodClan.
“Mouse-brain!” he murmured aloud. There was a chance that all four forest Clans could join together to drive out the lethal cats that threatened every pawstep of their lives. Four would not become two—four would become one, but not in the way that Tigerstar had intended.
As the first glittering rays of the sun appeared above the horizon, Firestar leaped down from the rock and raced downstream toward the stepping-stones.
“Firestar! Firestar!” The yowl brought him up short just as he came in sight of the stones. He turned to see a ThunderClan patrol emerge from the trees behind him. Graystripe was in the lead, followed by Sandstorm, Cloudtail, and Bramblepaw.
“Where have you been?” Sandstorm mewed crossly as she picked her way toward him. “We’ve been worried sick.”
“Sorry.” Firestar gave her ear an apologetic lick. “I needed to think a few things out, that’s all.”
“Whitestorm said you would be okay,” Graystripe meowed. “And Cinderpelt didn’t seem worried. I got the feeling she knew more than she was telling.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Firestar mewed briskly. “And I’m glad I’ve met you. I’m going over into RiverClan territory, and it’ll look better if I take some warriors with me.”
“RiverClan?” Clou
dtail looked amazed. “What do you want with them?”
“I’m going to ask them to fight with us against Scourge tomorrow.”
The young warrior stared. “Are you out of your mind? Leopardstar will rip your fur off!”
“I don’t think she will. Now that Tigerstar’s dead, she won’t want BloodClan in the forest any more than we do.”
Cloudtail shrugged, and Graystripe was looking uncertain too, but Sandstorm’s green eyes glowed with delight.
“I knew you would think of a way to defeat BloodClan,” she purred. “Let’s go.”
Firestar turned to lead the way to the stepping-stones, but paused as Bramblepaw padded up to him.
“Firestar, can we talk to Tawnypaw if she’s there?” his apprentice asked hopefully. His voice quavered. “There might not be another chance.”
Firestar hesitated. “Yes, if you see her,” he meowed. “Get her side of the story. Then we’ll decide what to do.”
“Thanks, Firestar!” Bramblepaw’s eyes shone with relief.
Firestar slipped down the bank to the stepping-stones with his warriors behind him. As he led the way across he kept alert for movement on the opposite side of the river, but he saw nothing. There had not even been a RiverClan patrol, though by now the sun was well above the horizon.
Reaching the far bank, Firestar turned upriver toward the RiverClan camp. Before he reached it he came to the stream that led to the clearing of the Bonehill. A shudder ran through him as he remembered the last time he had been here. The reek of crowfood was fainter now, but the scent of many cats came to him on the breeze. Firestar recognized the mingled scent of TigerClan, once so ominous but now almost familiar compared with the stench of BloodClan.
“I think they must be in the clearing by the Bonehill,” he mewed over his shoulder. “Some of them, at least. We’ll go and see—Graystripe, keep a lookout.”
Graystripe fell back as Firestar followed the stream, creeping quietly through the reeds until he came to the edge of the clearing. Peering out, he saw that the Bonehill was already beginning to crumble so that it looked like nothing more than a heap of rubbish. The stream was no longer choked with rotting prey, and there was a small heap of fresh-kill, as if cats had begun to establish a new camp.
Several warriors were huddled in the clearing, with ungroomed fur and dull, staring eyes. Firestar was surprised to see cats from both RiverClan and ShadowClan. He had expected to find only ShadowClan warriors setting up a camp here while RiverClan occupied their old camp on the island upriver.
Leopardstar was crouched at the foot of the Bonehill. She was gazing straight in front of her, and Firestar thought she must have seen him, but she gave no sign. The ShadowClan deputy, Blackfoot, lay close by. As his initial surprise ebbed, Firestar felt relieved that he would be able to deal straightaway with Leopardstar, who was obviously trying to rule both Clans.
He glanced back at Sandstorm. “What’s wrong with them?” he murmured. He would almost have believed that the warriors were sick, but there was no taint of sickness in the air.
Sandstorm shook her head helplessly, and Firestar turned back to the clearing. He had come here looking for a fighting force, but these cats appeared to be half-dead. Still, there was no sense in going back. Signaling with his tail for his own cats to follow, he stepped into the clearing.
No cat challenged him, although one or two of the warriors raised their heads and gave him an incurious stare. With a glance at Firestar, Bramblepaw slipped away to look for Tawnypaw.
Leopardstar struggled to her paws. “Firestar.” Her voice rasped, as if she had not used it in many days. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you,” Firestar replied. “Leopardstar, what’s going on here? What’s the matter with you all? Why aren’t you in your old camp?”
Leopardstar held his gaze for a long moment. “I am the sole leader of TigerClan now,” she meowed at last, a spark of pride returning to her dull eyes.
“The old RiverClan camp is too small to hold both Clans. We let the queens and kits and the elders stay there, with some warriors to guard them.” She let out a spurt of mocking laughter. “But what’s the point? BloodClan will slaughter us all.”
“You mustn’t think like that,” he urged the RiverClan leader. “If we all stand together, we can drive out BloodClan.”
A wild light shone in Leopardstar’s eyes. “You mouse-brained fool!” she spat. “Drive out BloodClan? How do you think you’re going to do that? Tigerstar was the Greatest warrior this forest has ever seen, and you saw what Scourge did to him.”
“I know,” Firestar replied steadily, hiding the shiver of sheer dread that ran through him. “But Tigerstar faced Scourge alone. We can join together as one to fight him so that afterward we can be four Clans again, according to the warrior code.”
A sneering look crossed Leopardstar’s face and she made no reply.
“What will you do, then?” Firestar asked. “Leave the forest?”
Leopardstar hesitated, tossing her head from side to side as if the effort of talking to Firestar irritated her. “I sent a scouting party to look for places to stay beyond Highstones,” she admitted. “But we have young kits, and two of our elders are ill. Not every cat can go, and the ones that stay will die.”
“They don’t have to die,” Firestar promised her desperately. “ThunderClan and WindClan are going to fight. Stand with us.”
He expected further mockery, but Leopardstar was looking at him more intently now. Nearby, Blackfoot scrambled to his paws and padded over to stand beside her. As he faced the ThunderClan cats Firestar heard a low snarl from Graystripe did, and saw his friend begin to flex his claws. He gave the gray warrior a warning flick with his tail; he loathed Blackfoot just as much as Graystripe did, but for now they would have to be allies in order to face an even greater enemy.
“Are you mouse-brained?” the ShadowClan deputy growled. “You can’t seriously be thinking of joining these fools? They’re not strong enough to tackle BloodClan. They’ll get us all torn apart.”
Leopardstar gave him a cold look, and Firestar realized with a sudden burst of hope that she didn’t like Blackfoot any more than he did. Stonefur, who had died under the black-and-white warrior’s claws, had been her trusted deputy.
“I am leader here, Blackfoot,” she pointed out. “I make the decisions. And I’m not ready to give up yet—not if there’s a chance of driving out BloodClan. All right,” she meowed, facing Firestar again. “What’s your plan?”
Firestar wished he had some clever trick to offer, some way of driving out BloodClan that wouldn’t risk the lives of every cat in the forest. But there was no trick; the path to victory, if there were one, would be hard and painful.
“At dawn tomorrow,” he replied, “ThunderClan and WindClan will meet BloodClan at Fourtrees. If ShadowClan and RiverClan join us, we’ll be twice as strong.”
“And will you lead us?” asked Leopardstar. Reluctantly she added, “I haven’t the strength now to take my cats into battle.”
Firestar blinked in surprise. He had expected Leopardstar to demand authority over the other Clans. He wasn’t at all sure that he himself was strong enough to take on the leadership in her place, but he could see that he had no choice.
“If that is your wish, then yes, I will,” he replied.
“Lead us?” The voice, harsh with mockery, came from behind Firestar. “A kittypet? Are you out of your mind, Leopardstar?”
Firestar turned, knowing what he would see. Darkstripe was thrusting his way through the little group of his former Clan mates.
Firestar stared at him. In ThunderClan, Darkstripe had always been sleek; now his black-striped coat was dull, as if he had stopped caring for it. He looked gaunt, and the tip of his tail twitched nervously. Only the cold hostility in his eyes was familiar, and the insolence with which he looked Firestar up and down as he came to a stop in front of the leaders.
“Darkstripe.” Firestar acknowledged him with a nod. T
hough he could never truly pity the dark warrior, he felt a pang to see how haunted he looked, his eyes empty, as if he were already being punished for betraying his birth Clan.
Leopardstar stepped forward. “Darkstripe, this isn’t your decision,” she meowed.
“We should kill you or drive you out,” Darkstripe snarled at Firestar. “You turned Scourge against Tigerstar. It’s your fault he died.”
“My fault?” Firestar gasped in astonishment. The dark tabby’s eyes burned with hatred, and Firestar knew that in his own way Darkstripe was grieving for the dead leader. Now that Tigerstar was dead, Darkstripe was utterly alone. “No, Darkstripe. It was Tigerstar’s own fault. If he hadn’t brought BloodClan into the forest, none of this would have happened.”
“And how did it happen?” Graystripe broke in. “That’s what I’d like to know. What was Tigerstar thinking of? Didn’t he see what he was letting loose in the forest?”
“He thought it was for the best.” Leopardstar tried to defend Tigerstar, though her words sounded hollow. “He believed the forest cats would be safer if they all joined together under his leadership, and he thought BloodClan would convince you he was right.”
A snort of contempt came from Graystripe, but Leopardstar ignored it. Instead, she flicked her tail and another cat came up—a skinny gray tom with a ragged ear. Firestar recognized him as Boulder, one of the rogue cats Tigerstar had taken into ShadowClan.
“Boulder, tell Firestar what happened,” Leopardstar ordered.
The ShadowClan warrior looked thin and tired as he met Firestar’s gaze. “I belonged to BloodClan once,” he confessed. “I left many moons ago, but Tigerstar knew about my past. He asked me to take him into Twolegplace because he needed more cats to make sure ShadowClan controlled the forest.” He glanced down at his paws, his ears twitching uncomfortably. “I…I tried to tell Tigerstar that Scourge was dangerous, but neither of us imagined what he could do. Tigerstar offered Scourge a share of the forest if he would bring his cats to help him fight. He thought that once he’d made all the other Clans join TigerClan he could get rid of BloodClan.”