The Darkest Hour (10 page)

“But what are they doing on our territory?” Thornpaw asked. “Are they Tigerstar's rogues, do you think?” He was referring to the band of Clanless cats who had helped Tigerstar to attack ThunderClan during his exile, before he had joined ShadowClan.

“No,” replied Mousefur. “Tigerstar's rogues took on ShadowClan scent long ago. This must be a new lot.”

“As for what they're doing,” Firestar added, “I'd like to know that, too. Let's follow them. Thornpaw, you lead.”

Thornpaw was serious now, his excitement at his upcoming warrior ceremony lost in the possible threat from the group of rogues. He did his best to follow the scent but lost
it in a marshy stretch of ground, where not even Firestar could pick it up again.

“I'm sorry, Firestar,” mewed Thornpaw, crestfallen.

“It's not your fault,” Firestar reassured him. “If the scent's gone, it's gone.” He raised his head, staring in the direction the trail had led them. It looked as if the strange cats were heading for the Thunderpath, or perhaps for Twolegplace. In either case, they were on their way out of the territory. He shrugged. “I'll tell the patrols to keep a lookout, but hopefully there's nothing to worry about. That was well scented, Thornpaw.” Turning to the young cat, he added with a purr of approval, “Let's head back to camp. We have a warrior ceremony to arrange.”

 

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

Almost at once Firestar saw Thornpaw approaching from the apprentices' den with Mousefur beside him. Both cats had groomed themselves for the ceremony; Thornpaw's golden-brown fur shone in the gray light of leaf-bare, and he looked as if he would burst with pride.

As he waited for the rest of the Clan to emerge, Firestar spotted Cinderpelt coming from her den. Graystripe was with her, and the two cats had their heads together, talking in low voices. Firestar wondered how Sorrelkit was getting on. He had briefly looked into the medicine cat's den before he left with the dawn patrol. The kit had been sleeping then, and Cinderpelt had still not been prepared to say whether
she thought the poison was out of her system. Firestar decided to check on Sorrelkit again as soon as the ceremony was over.

He could not help noticing Darkstripe emerging from the warriors' den with Brackenfur right behind him. When they sat down in front of the Highrock, a space cleared itself all around them. None of the other cats wanted to be an y where near Darkstripe. The warrior stared straight ahead with a sneer on his face, but Firestar guessed he would be as anxious as the rest of them to know if Sorrelkit would recover.

Firestar looked at the rest of the Clan for a moment. This was a day that Thornpaw would remember for the rest of his life, but it was special for Firestar too, because Thornpaw was the first warrior he would make as Clan leader.

His voice rang out clearly as he began the ceremony with the words that were familiar to him from his own ceremony and all the others he had seen. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” Turning to the apprentice, Firestar continued, “Thornpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Thornpaw's reply was firm and confident. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Firestar declared, “I give you your warrior name: Thornpaw, from this moment you will be known as Thornclaw. StarClan honors your loyalty and your intelligence, and we welcome you as a full
warrior of ThunderClan.”

Stepping forward, Firestar rested his muzzle on the top of Thornclaw's head, feeling the new warrior quiver with excitement. Thornclaw licked his shoulder in return, and met his gaze with a long look in which happiness and sorrow were mingled. Firestar knew he was remembering his den mate Swiftpaw, dead before he could know the fulfilment of being a warrior.

As Thornclaw stepped back to join the warriors, Lostface slipped over to him. “Thornclaw!” she purred, swiping her tongue over his ear. She had kept her promise to be the first cat to greet him with his new warrior name, and her voice held warmth and pride in his achievement.

Cloudtail pressed up behind her, greeting Thornclaw in his turn, and flashed a questioning look at Firestar.

Firestar gave him a nod. For a few moments he allowed the Clan to welcome the new warrior by chanting his name, and then he signaled with his tail for silence. When the cats had settled down, he meowed, “Before you go, I've something more to say. First, I want to honor the apprentice who should have been here, receiving his warrior name along with Thornclaw. You all know how Swiftpaw met his death trying to hunt down the dog pack who threatened us. His Clan will always remember that.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the assembled cats. Firestar glanced at Longtail, who had been the dead apprentice's mentor, and saw a look of pride and grief cross his face.

“In addition,” Firestar continued, “I want to give thanks from the Clan to Fernpaw and Ashpaw. They showed the bravery of warriors in the race against the dogs, and although they are still too young to receive their warrior names, we honor them.”

“Fernpaw! Ashpaw!” The two apprentices looked overwhelmed to hear themselves praised by their Clan mates, and Dustpelt's eyes shone with delight. Only Darkstripe, Fernpaw's mentor, remained silent, staring coldly in front of him without even turning to look at his apprentice.

Firestar waited until the noise died down. “There's one more ceremony to perform.” He flicked his tail to beckon Lostface out of the crowd. Nervously she stepped forward to stand in front of him; Cloudtail followed her, remaining a tail-length or so away.

A murmur of surprise went through the watching cats. Many of them, Firestar realized, would not know what was about to happen. The name-changing ceremony for a warrior who had already been given a new name had not been held for many seasons.

Remembering what One-eye had told him, he began to speak. “Spirits of StarClan, you know every cat by name. I ask you now to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for what she is.”

He paused and saw the young ginger-and-white she-cat shiver, as she waited, nameless, before StarClan. Firestar hoped she would like the name he had chosen for her; he had thought hard before he was sure he had gotten it right.

“By my authority as Clan leader,” Firestar announced, “and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name. From this moment she will be known as Brightheart, for though her body has been gravely injured, we honor her brave spirit and the light that shines on within her.”

He stepped close to the newly named Brightheart, and as he had done in the warrior ceremony, rested his muzzle on her head. She responded like any newly named warrior by licking his shoulder.

“Brightheart! Brightheart!” The yowl rose from the assembled cats. Brightheart had been popular when she was an apprentice, and the whole Clan had grieved over her injuries. She would never be a warrior in the truest sense of the word, but there would always be a place for her in ThunderClan.

Firestar led Brightheart to where Cloudtail was waiting. “Well?” he asked. “Is that fair enough for you?”

Cloudtail could barely reply; he was too busy pressing his muzzle against Brightheart's and winding his tail with hers. “It's perfect, Firestar,” he murmured.

Brightheart's good eye brimmed with happiness and she was purring too hard to speak, but she blinked her gratitude at Firestar. She had carried the burden of Bluestar's anger against StarClan for too long, and even if she could never become a full warrior, she had a name to be proud of now.

Firestar swallowed, his throat choked with emotion. It was moments like this that made being a leader worthwhile.

“Listen, Firestar,” meowed Cloudtail after a moment,
“Brightheart and I are going to train together. We're going to work on a fighting technique she can manage with just one eye and ear. When she's able to fight again, can she leave the elders and come to live in the warriors' den with the rest of us?”

“Well…” Firestar was uncertain. Brightheart could never be a full warrior because she couldn't hunt alone, and she would be at a serious disadvantage in a fight. But it was hard to resist her determination; besides, Firestar wanted her to be able to defend herself and her Clan mates as best she could. “You haven't got an apprentice yet, Cloudtail,” he agreed, “so you do have the time to spend with Brightheart.”

“Does that mean we can train together?” Cloudtail urged.

“Please, Firestar,” meowed Brightheart. “I want to be some use to the Clan.”

“All right,” Firestar agreed. With a sudden thought he added, “If you work out some new moves, we can teach them to the others. Brightheart isn't the first warrior to be injured like this, and she won't be the last.”

Cloudtail meowed agreement. The two young cats were moving away when Whitestorm, who had been Brightheart's mentor, came up to congratulate her. To Firestar, he added, “I looked in on Sorrelkit just before the ceremony. She was starting to wake up. Cinderpelt thinks she'll recover.”

“That's great news!” Firestar purred. Whitestorm, he remembered, was Sorrelkit's father. “Do you think she's fit yet to tell us what happened?”

“You'll have to ask Cinderpelt,” the white warrior replied.
“Go now—I'll see to the patrols.”

Firestar thanked him and hurried toward the medicine cat's den.

Cinderpelt met him at the mouth of the fern tunnel. “I was coming to look for you,” she meowed. After hearing Whitestorm's good news, Firestar was surprised to see the depth of anxiety in her eyes. “Sorrelkit is awake,” she went on. “She's going to be fine. But you need to hear the story she has to tell.”

Sorrelkit was curled up in a
mossy nest near the entrance to Cinderpelt's den. She raised her head as Firestar approached with the medicine cat, but her eyes were heavy and it looked as though she was finding it difficult to move.

Sandstorm was crouched close beside her on guard duty. “Poor little scrap,” she murmured to Firestar. “She nearly died. We've got to do something about Darkstripe.”

The pale ginger she-cat was looking as anxious as Cinderpelt; she would have heard Sorrelkit's story too, Firestar realized. He nodded. “You can leave Darkstripe to me.” Settling down beside Sorrelkit, he mewed gently, “I'm glad to see you're awake, Sorrelkit. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

The tiny tortoiseshell kit blinked up at him. “Sootkit and Rainkit were asleep in the nursery,” she began in a faint voice. “But I wasn't sleepy. My mother wasn't watching, so I went to play in the ravine. I wanted to catch a mouse. And then I saw Darkstripe.” Her voice shook and she hesitated.

“Go on,” Firestar encouraged her.

“He was coming up the ravine by himself. I knew he should have had Brackenfur with him, and I…I wondered
where he was going. I followed him—I remembered the time he took Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw out of the camp, and I thought I might have an adventure like that, too.”

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 Firestar'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.