The Darkest Hour (23 page)

“How mouse-brained can they be?” growled Cloudtail. “What's to discuss? Leopardstar says they can't leave safely—what else can they do but fight?”

“Be quiet, Cloudtail,” Firestar ordered.

“Firestar.” Bramblepaw's voice interrupted him. Firestar turned to see his apprentice standing a tail-length away with Tawnypaw close beside him. “Tawnypaw wants to talk to you.”

The young she-cat returned Firestar's gaze steadily, reminding him irresistibly of her formidable mother, Goldenflower.

“Well, Tawnypaw?” he prompted.

“Bramblepaw says I should tell you why I left ThunderClan,” Tawnypaw meowed without preamble. “But you already know, don't you? I wanted to be judged for what I was, not for what my father did. I needed to feel I belonged.”

“No cat thought you didn't belong,” Firestar protested.

Tawnypaw faced him with a glint in her eyes. “Firestar, I don't believe that,” she meowed. “And neither do you.”

Firestar felt his fur flush hot with guilt. “I made a mistake,” he admitted. “I looked at both of you, and all I could see was your father. Other cats did, too. But I didn't want you to leave.”

“Other cats did,” Tawnypaw meowed quietly.

“She could still come back into the Clan, couldn't she?” Bramblepaw pleaded.

“Hang on a minute,” Tawnypaw interrupted sharply. “I'm not asking you if I can come back. All I want is to be a loyal cat in my new Clan.” Her eyes were shining. “I want to be the best warrior I can be,” she went on. “And I can't be that in ThunderClan.”

Firestar could hardly bear to see all the courage and loyalty that they were losing. “I'm sorry you left ThunderClan,” he meowed, “and I wish you well. Tawnypaw, I really believe that if all four Clans fight tomorrow we can win back the forest. ShadowClan will survive, and be a Clan you can be proud of—a Clan that will be proud of you.”

Tawnypaw gave him a short nod. “Thank you.”

Bramblepaw looked distraught, but Firestar knew there was nothing more to say. The sound of his name distracted him, and he turned to see that Leopardstar was padding toward him across the clearing.

“I have made my decision,” she told him.

Firestar felt his heart begin to pound. Everything rested on Leopardstar's choice. Without the support of RiverClan and ShadowClan—even with their warriors in such a pitiful state—there was no hope of driving BloodClan out of the forest. The few heartbeats before Leopardstar reached him seemed to stretch out to a moon.

“RiverClan will fight against BloodClan tomorrow,” she announced.

“And so will ShadowClan,” Blackfoot added, walking up behind her. His eyes flashed at Leopardstar as he silently asserted his authority.

Even though Firestar was relieved that the leaders had chosen to fight, he noticed some doubtful looks among the other cats. Darkstripe was the only one to speak out loud.

“You're all mad,” he spat. “Joining a kittypet? Well, I'm not going to follow him, whatever any cat says.”

“You'll obey orders,” snapped Leopardstar.

“Make me,” Darkstripe retorted. “You're not my leader.”

For a few heartbeats Leopardstar looked at him with cold eyes. Then she shrugged. “Thank StarClan I'm not. You're about as much use as a dead fox. Very well, Darkstripe, do as you like.”

The dark warrior hesitated, looking from Leopardstar to Blackfoot and back again, and then around at the rest of the clearing. The warriors were still murmuring among themselves, and none of them paid any attention to Darkstripe.

He glanced back at Leopardstar as if he were about to speak, but the RiverClan leader had already turned away. Darkstripe swung around with a vicious snarl at Firestar. “You fools—you'll all be ripped apart tomorrow.”

He stalked away in dead silence. The cats parted to let him go and watched him until he disappeared into the reeds. Firestar wondered where the solitary warrior could possibly go now.

Leopardstar stepped forward. “I swear by StarClan that we will meet you at dawn tomorrow at Fourtrees. We will fight with you and WindClan against BloodClan.” More briskly she added, “Shadepelt, will you send out hunting patrols? We'll need all our strength for tomorrow.”

A dark gray RiverClan she-cat flicked her tail and began moving through the cats, choosing warriors for the patrols.

Leopardstar looked at the Bonehill with deep sadness in her eyes, and a shiver ran through her mottled pelt. “We must pull this down,” she murmured. “It belongs to a darker time.”

She dug her claws into the heap of prey bones. Slowly and hesitantly, as if they still thought that Tigerstar might appear and accuse them of treachery, her warriors joined her. Bone by bone, the pile was scattered across the clearing. Blackfoot and a few of the ShadowClan warriors stood watching a little way off. The deputy's face was shadowed, and it was
impossible to guess what he was thinking.

Firestar drew his own followers away. He had succeeded in what he set out to do, and he could not help admiring Leopardstar's courage, but instead of satisfaction he felt a dark surge of foreboding as he cast one last glance at the two Clans in the clearing.

What if I've condemned them all to death
?

It was the time before dawn
when the moon had set, but the sun had yet to streak the horizon with milky fingers of light. The night was still and cold, black like frozen water.

Firestar padded out of his den. The clearing was empty, but he could hear the faint sounds of warriors waking up. Frost glittered on the ground, while above his head Silverpelt flowed like a river across the sky.

Pausing to drink in the night air filled with the scents of so many familiar cats, Firestar felt every hair on his pelt stand up. This could be the last morning he would ever spend in camp. It could be the last morning for any Clan. He felt as if everything were spinning out of his control, but when he looked for strength in the knowledge that StarClan controlled his fate, he found only uncertainty.

Firestar sighed and shook himself before walking over to the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt's den. The medicine cat was dragging herbs and berries into the clearing, where Fernpaw was making them into bundles ready to carry.

“Is everything ready?” Firestar asked.

“I think so.” Pain filled Cinderpelt's blue eyes, as if she
were already seeing the wounded cats who would soon need her help. “I'll need more cats to carry all this up to Fourtrees. Fernpaw and I can't manage it on our own.”

“You can have all the apprentices,” Firestar meowed. “Fernpaw, will you go and tell them?”

The young she-cat dipped her head and hurried off.

“Once we get there, the other apprentices will be needed to fight,” Firestar went on. “But Fernpaw can stay with you. Find somewhere well out of the way. I think there's a sheltered hollow on the other side of the stream—”

Cinderpelt bristled. “Firestar, you don't mean that? What use will I be if I'm not where the fighting is?”

“But the cats need you,” Firestar insisted. “If you're injured, what happens to the rest of us?”

“Fernpaw and I can take care of ourselves. We're not helpless kits, you know.” Cinderpelt's tart response reminded Firestar of her mentor, Yellowfang.

Sighing, he padded up to the medicine cat and touched noses with her. “Have it your own way,” he meowed. “I know I can't say anything to change your mind. But please…be careful.”

Cinderpelt let out a soft purr. “Don't worry, Firestar. We'll be fine.”

“Have StarClan spoken to you about the battle?” Firestar forced himself to ask.

“No, I've seen no omens at all.” The medicine cat raised her eyes to Silverpelt, where it was fading in the predawn sky. “It's not like StarClan to be silent when something so
important is going to happen.”

“I…I had a dream from them, Cinderpelt,” Firestar told her hesitantly, “but I'm not sure I understand it, and there isn't time to tell you all of it now. I just hope it means something good for us.”

There was curiosity in Cinderpelt's blue eyes as he spoke of his dream at Sunningrocks, but she did not question him.

Firestar returned through the fern tunnel and crossed the clearing to the elders' den. On the way he passed Brackenfur on watch, and waved a greeting with his tail.

When he reached the fallen tree, charred by the fire that had swept through the camp last greenleaf, Firestar found all the elders still sleeping except for Speckletail, who sat with her tail curled around her paws.

The she-cat rose to her paws as Firestar came toward her. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” Firestar replied. “We'll be leaving soon…but you're not coming with us, Speckletail.”

“What?” The fur on Speckletail's shoulders stiffened with annoyance. “Why not? We may be elders, but we're not useless. Do you really think we're going to sit back and—”

“Speckletail, listen. This is important. If you're honest, you know that Smallear and One-eye would barely make it to Fourtrees, never mind fight when they got there. And Dappletail's getting very frail. I can't lead them into battle against Scourge.”

“And what about me?”

“I know you're a fighter, Speckletail.” Firestar had thought
carefully about what he was going to say, but with the elder glaring at him he felt like a raw apprentice again. “That's why I need you here. There'll be the other three elders here, and Willowpelt's kits. They've learned some defensive moves but they're not ready for battle. I'm putting you in charge of the camp while the rest of us are away.”

“But I—Oh.” Speckletail broke off as she understood what Firestar was asking her to do. Slowly the fur on her shoulders lay flat again. “I see. All right, Firestar. You can count on me.”

“Thank you.” Firestar blinked his gratitude at her. “If the battle goes badly, we'll try to fall back here and reinforce you, but we might not make it. If BloodClan comes here, you'll be all that's left of ThunderClan.” His eyes met Speckletail's. “You'll need to get the kits and elders away. Try to cross the river, then head for Barley's farm.”

“Right.” Speckletail gave him a brisk nod. “I'll do the best I can.” Turning, she looked over to where Brightheart slept in the shelter of the tree trunk. “What about her?”

“Brightheart is as strong as any warrior now,” Fireheart meowed, his heart lifting. “She's coming with us.” He padded over and nudged the young she-cat with one paw. “Wake up, Brightheart. It's time to go.”

Brightheart blinked up at him with her good eye, then rose and stretched. “Okay, Firestar. I'm ready.”

She was heading out into the clearing when Firestar called her back. “Brightheart, if we come through this, you'll be sleeping in the warriors' den from now on.”

Brightheart's ears pricked and she seemed to stand taller. “Thank you, Firestar!” she meowed, and dashed off, all her drowsiness vanished.

Dipping his head in farewell to Speckletail, Firestar followed Brightheart into the clearing. By now the other cats had begun to emerge from their dens. The apprentices, Featherpaw and Stormpaw among them, were cluster e d around Cinderpelt, each carrying a bundle of herbs. Dustpelt was with them, speaking urgently in a low voice to Fernpaw.

Closer to the warriors' den, Brightheart had joined Cloudtail, while Mousefur and Longtail stalked around each other in a final practice of their fighting moves. As Firestar watched, Graystripe and Sandstorm slipped out from between the branches of the den with Thornclaw and Mistyfoot just behind. Whitestorm came up and urged the cats toward the nettle patch for a piece of fresh-kill.

Firestar felt a rush of pride. These were his cats, brave and loyal, every one of them.

Above him, the outlines of bare branches had begun to show black against the sky. Firestar felt a moment of sheer terror at the reminder of the approaching sunrise. He forced himself to stride confidently across the clearing until he joined Whitestorm beside the fresh-kill pile.

“This is it,” the white warrior meowed.

Firestar took a vole from the pile of fresh-kill. His belly was churning with tension, but he forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls.

“Firestar,” Whitestorm continued after a moment, “I just
wanted to say that Bluestar could not have led us better in these terrible days. I've been proud to serve as your deputy.”

Firestar stared at him. “Whitestorm, you're talking as if…” He couldn't put what he was afraid of into words. The older warrior's respect meant more to him than he could say, and he couldn't imagine how he would cope if Whitestorm did not come back from the battle.

Whitestorm concentrated on the blackbird he was eating, avoiding his eyes, and didn't say any more.

The camp was still dark when Speckletail emerged with the other elders to see the warriors off. Willowpelt's kits rushed out of the nursery to say good-bye to their mother and Sandstorm. They looked excited; they didn't fully understand what the Clan was going to face.

“Well, Firestar,” Cloudtail meowed. “Is everything ready?” The tip of his tail twitched nervously as he admitted, “I'll be a lot happier when we're on the move.”

Firestar swallowed the last of his vole. “So will I, Cloudtail,” he replied. “Let's go.”

Rising to his paws, he gathered his Clan with a flick of his tail. As his gaze met Sandstorm's, he felt strengthened to see her green eyes glow with trust and love.

“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar called, “we go now to fight against BloodClan. But we're not alone. Remember there are four Clans in the forest, and always will be, and the other three will fight with us today. We
will
drive out these evil cats!”

His warriors sprang up, yowling their agreement. Firestar
turned, and began to lead them through the gorse tunnel and up the ravine toward Fourtrees.

When he paused at the top for a last glance back at the camp, he did not know if he would ever see his beloved home again.