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Authors: Erin Hunter

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BOOK: The Darkest Hour
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“I hail you by your new name, Firestar,” Bluestar announced. “Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of ThunderClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.”

“Firestar! Firestar!” Just as the forest Clans would acclaim a new warrior by name, so the cats of StarClan acclaimed Firestar, in rich voices that tingled in the air. “Firestar! Firestar!”

Suddenly the chanting broke off with a startled hiss.
Firestar tensed, aware that something was wrong. Bluestar's glowing eyes were fixed on something behind him. He spun around and let out a choking cry.

A massive hill of bones had appeared at the other side of the clearing, many tail-lengths high. It shone with an unnatural light, so that Firestar could see each separate bone edged as if with fire—the bones of cats and the bones of prey, all jumbled together. A hot wind swept over him, bearing the reek of carrion, even though the bones gleamed white and clean.

Firestar gazed wildly around him, seeking help or answers from the other cats. But the clearing was dark. The cats of StarClan had vanished, leaving him alone with the terrible hill of bones. As Firestar felt panic welling up inside him, he sensed the familiar presence of Bluestar by his side, warm fur pressed against his flank. He could not see her in the darkness, but her voice whispered in his ear.

“Something terrible is coming, Firestar. Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest.”

Her scent and the warmth of her fur faded away as she finished speaking.

“Wait!” Firestar yowled. “Don't leave me! Tell me what you mean!”

But there was no reply, no explanation of the dreadful prophecy. Instead, the red light that gleamed from the hill of bones glowed brighter. Firestar stared at it in horror. Blood had begun to ooze out between the bones. The trickles merged into a river that flowed steadily toward him, until the
stench of blood clung to his fur. He tried to flee, and found his paws were fixed in place. A heartbeat later, the sticky red tide was washing around him, gurgling and reeking of death.

“No!” Firestar yowled, but there was no response from the forest, just the steady whisper of blood lapping hungrily at his fur.

Firestar jolted awake in terror. He
was lying in the cavern beneath Highstones with his nose pressed against the Moonstone. The shaft of moonlight had vanished, and only the faintest glimmer of starshine lit the cave. But there was no relief in waking up, for the stench of blood was still all around him and his fur felt hot and sticky.

Heart thudding wildly, Firestar scrambled to his paws. Across the cave he could just make out Cinderpelt. She had risen too, and was signaling urgently to him with her tail. Firestar's first impulse was to pour out to her all that he had seen, but he remembered her instructions to keep silent until they had left Mother mouth. Paws skidding on the cave floor in his haste, he pushed past the medicine cat and bolted into the tunnel.

As he stumbled upward toward the open air, following his own scent trail along the dark passage, the way seemed twice as long as before. Firestar's fur scraped against the tunnel walls and he was filled with horror at the thought of being buried alive. The air felt too thick to breathe, and as his panic grew in the unbroken blackness of the tunnel he began to imagine that it would never end, that he would be trapped
for ever in blood and darkness.

Then he saw the pale outline of the tunnel entrance, and burst out into the still night air, where the moon was sinking behind thin clouds. Firestar dug his claws into the loose earth of the hillside while shudders passed through his body from nose to tail.

A few moments later, Cinderpelt emerged behind him and pressed herself against his side until he managed to control his dreadful shivering and his breathing steadied.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Don't you know?”

Cinderpelt shook her head. “I know that the ritual was interrupted—the scent of blood told me that. But I don't know why.” She looked deep into his eyes; her own were burning with concern. “Tell me…did you receive your nine lives and your name?”

Firestar nodded, and the medicine cat relaxed slightly. “Then the rest can wait. Let's go.”

For a moment Firestar felt too exhausted to move. But he did not want to stay anywhere near Mothermouth and the terrible things that he had seen in the cave. Shakily, pawstep by pawstep, he began to descend the hill. Cinderpelt padded beside him, sometimes nudging him toward an easier route, and Firestar was grateful for her unquestioning presence.

As they drew farther away from the tunnel, the stench of blood faded from his mouth and nostrils. Still, Firestar felt that even if he washed for a moon he would never get rid of the last traces from his fur. He began to feel stronger, but he
was still very tired, and as soon as the rocky hillside gave way to grass he flopped down in the shelter of a hawthorn bush.

“I've got to rest,” he meowed.

Cinderpelt tucked herself into the grass beside him and for a few moments the two cats shared tongues in silence. Firestar wanted to tell the medicine cat what he had seen, but something kept him silent. Partly he wanted to protect her from the dreadful fear he had felt—even if she could explain what Bluestar's prophecy meant, would it help to have another cat look forward to the future with the dread that he now felt? And partly he hoped that if he never spoke of the dreadful vision, it might not come true. Or was there a curse on his leadership that nothing could avert? Bluestar had told him before she died that he was the fire who would save the Clan. How could that be true, if the fire was quenched by the tidal wave of blood he had just seen? Firestar had experienced prophetic dreams before, and he had learned to take them seriously. He could not ignore this, especially when it came at such a significant moment, while he was receiving his nine lives and his new name.

Cinderpelt broke into his reverie. “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it yet, you know.”

Firestar pushed his muzzle into her fur, grateful for her warmth. “I'll think about it first,” he mewed slowly. “Right now…it's too close.” He shivered again at the memory. “Cinderpelt,” he went on, “I've never told any cat this before, but…sometimes I have dreams that tell me about the future.”

Cinderpelt's ears twitched in surprise. “That's unusual. Clan leaders and medicine cats commune with StarClan, but I never heard of ordinary warriors having prophetic dreams. How long has this been going on?”

“Since I was a kittypet,” Firestar admitted, remembering the dream of hunting a mouse that had first driven him into the forest. “But I…I don't know if the dreams come from StarClan.” After all, before he came to the forest, he hadn't even known about StarClan. Could they have been watching over him even then?

The medicine cat's eyes were thoughtful. “In the end, all dreams come from StarClan,” she murmured. “Do they always come true?”

“Yes,” Firestar replied. “But not always in the way I expect. Some are easier to understand than others.”

“Then you should bear that in mind when you're trying to understand this latest dream.” Cinderpelt gave him a comforting lick. “Remember, Firestar, you're not alone. Now that you're Clan leader, StarClan will share many things with you. But I'm here to help you interpret the signs. Tell me as much or as little as you want.”

Though Firestar was grateful for her understanding, Cinderpelt's words chilled him. His new relationship with StarClan was driving him along new paths where he might not want to go. For a few heartbeats he longed to be no more than a warrior again, hunting with Graystripe or sharing tongues with Sandstorm in the den.

“Thank you, Cinderpelt,” he meowed, forcing himself
to his paws. “I promise I'll talk to you when ever I feel the need.” But even though he meant what he said, deep down he wondered how helpful she would be. Firestar couldn't help feeling that this was something he had to face alone. He let out a long sigh. “Let's keep going.”

 

However much Firestar longed to get home, his strength was failing. Since the discovery of the dog pack and the heart-stopping dash through the forest to lead them to the gorge, he had eaten little, and scarcely slept except to dream. The long journey to Highstones and the agony of receiving his nine lives, followed by the terrible vision, had taken all he had to give.

His steps became slower and more uncertain. They were passing Barley's farm when the medicine cat gave his shoulder a sharp nudge. “That's enough, Firestar,” she meowed firmly. “As your medicine cat I'm telling you that you need to rest. Let's see if Barley and Ravenpaw are at home.”

“Good idea.” Firestar felt too relieved at the prospect of resting to argue.

Cautiously the two cats approached the Twoleg barn. Firestar was worried that the dogs might be unchained, but their scent was faint and distant. Much stronger was the scent of cats, and as they drew closer Firestar spotted a muscular black-and-white tom squeezing himself through a gap in the door.

“Barley!” he meowed in greeting. “It's good to see you. You know Cinderpelt, our medicine cat?”

Barley gave both cats a brisk nod. “It's good to see you, too, Fireheart.”

“Fire
star
,” Cinderpelt corrected him. “He's Clan leader now.”

Barley's eyes widened in astonishment. “Congratulations! But that means that Bluestar must be dead. I'm sorry.”

“She died as she lived, protecting her Clan,” Firestar told him.

“I can see there's a story to tell,” meowed Barley, turning back to the barn, “and Ravenpaw will want to hear it. Come on in.”

Inside the barn was warm and dark, full of the scent of hay and mice. Firestar listened to the telltale scuttering noises and his head spun with hunger.

“A soft place to sleep, and all the prey you can eat,” he remarked, trying not to let his desperate hunger show. “Better not tell ThunderClan or they'll all be out here, wanting to be loners.”

Barley chuckled softly. “Ravenpaw,” he called, “come and see who's here.”

A dark shape sprang down from a nearby stack of hay with a welcoming purr. As an apprentice, Ravenpaw had been the only cat in ThunderClan who knew the truth about the death of Redtail—that he had been murdered by Ravenpaw's mentor, Tigerstar. When Tigerstar tried to kill his apprentice to prevent him from reporting what he had seen, Firestar had found this new home for him. The life of a loner suited Ravenpaw much better than that of a warrior, yet he had never forgotten his birth Clan, and remained a loyal friend to his former Clan mates.

“So Bluestar is dead,” he murmured when Barley had passed on the news. His eyes clouded with grief. “I'll never forget her.”

Barley gave a comforting rumble in his throat, and Firestar sensed how welcoming he must have been to the scared young apprentice who had come to him so many moons ago.

Straightening up, Ravenpaw flashed the black-and-white cat a grateful glance. “So you're Clan leader now,” he continued to Firestar. “StarClan made a good choice.” He led the way to the other side of the barn. “Would you like to hunt?”

“That would be great,” replied Cinderpelt. She gave Firestar a questioning look, and murmured, “Shall I catch something for you?”

In spite of his exhaustion, Firestar shook his head. A fine Clan leader he would make if he couldn't catch his own prey! He stood alert, listening, and dropped into the hunter's crouch when he heard a soft scuffling deep within the hay. Pinpointing the mouse by hearing rather than sight, he sprang, and dispatched the creature with a swift bite.

Ravenpaw was lucky, Firestar reflected as he picked up the prey in his jaws and padded back to the others to eat. This was twice the size of the leaf-bare-thin mice in the forest, and easier to catch in the shadows of the barn. He gulped it down in a few famished mouthfuls and felt his strength beginning to return.

“Have some more,” Ravenpaw urged. “There are plenty here.”

When Firestar and Cinderpelt had eaten as much as they
could manage they lay in the soft hay, sharing tongues with their friends and bringing them up-to-date with Clan news. Ravenpaw and Barley listened, their eyes huge with shock, as Firestar told them about the dog pack.

“I always knew Tigerstar was bloodthirsty,” Ravenpaw meowed, “but I didn't think even he would try to destroy a whole Clan like that.”

“Thank StarClan he didn't succeed,” Firestar replied. “But he came pretty close. I don't want to go through anything like that again.”

“You'll have to do something to stop Tigerstar now, before he tries something else,” Barley pointed out.

Firestar nodded. He hesitated, then confessed, “But I don't know how I'm going to do anything without Bluestar. Everything seems dark and…and overwhelming.” He said nothing about the interruption of his leadership ritual, or the horror of his dream, but he saw from the sympathetic look in Cinderpelt's eyes that she knew what he was thinking.

“Remember the whole Clan is behind you,” she mewed. “No cat will ever forget that you and Bluestar saved us from the pack.”

“Maybe they expect too much of me.”

“Nonsense!” Cinderpelt's tone was bracing. “They know you're going to be a great leader, and they'll all stand by you to the last breath.”

“So will I,” Ravenpaw offered, startling Firestar. The sleek black tom looked slightly embarrassed as Firestar turned to look at him, but he went on: “I know I'm not a warrior, but if
you want my help you have only to ask.”

Firestar blinked his gratitude. “Thank you, Ravenpaw.”

“May I come to the camp soon?” Ravenpaw asked. “I'd like to pay my last respects to Bluestar at her burial place.”

“Yes, of course,” Firestar replied. “Bluestar gave you the right to go where you like on ThunderClan territory. There's no reason to change that now.”

Ravenpaw dipped his head. “Thank you.” As he looked up again, Firestar saw a glow of respect in his eyes. “You saved my life once, Firestar. I'll never be able to repay you for that. But if trouble with Tigerstar comes, I'll be proud to stand with the warriors of ThunderClan and fight him to the death.”

BOOK: The Darkest Hour
4.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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