The Darkest Hour (3 page)

“I checked the whole camp myself,” Fireheart told her. “There's no sign of any dogs.”

“She was very brave at Sunningrocks,” meowed Cloudtail, touching his muzzle to Lostface's shoulder. “She helped me keep watch from a tree.”

Lostface brightened. “I can't see as well as I used to, but I can listen, and scent.”

“Well done,” Fireheart meowed. “You too, Cloudtail. I was right to rely on you.”

“They've all done well.” That was Cinderpelt's voice; Fireheart turned to see her limping toward him with Mousefur just behind her. “There was no panic at all, not even when we heard the pack howling.”

“And every cat's okay?” Fireheart asked anxiously.

“They're all fine.” The medicine cat's blue eyes glowed with relief. “Mousefur tore a claw when she was running from the dogs, but that's all. Come on, Mousefur, I'll give you something for it.”

As Fireheart watched them go, he realized that Whitestorm had appeared beside him. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Of course.”

“I'm sorry.” Whitestorm's eyes were full of an guish. “I know you asked me to take care of Bluestar when we were fleeing from the dogs. But she slipped away from Sunningrocks before I realized she'd gone. It's my fault she's dead.”

Fireheart narrowed his eyes at the older warrior. For the first time he noticed how exhausted he looked. Although Whitestorm was the senior warrior of ThunderClan, he had always seemed strong and vigorous, his white coat sleek and well-groomed. Now he looked a hundred seasons older than the cat who had left camp that morning.

“That's ridiculous!” Fireheart insisted. “Even if you had noticed that Bluestar had gone, what could you have done? She was your leader—you couldn't have made her stay.”

Whitestorm blinked. “I didn't dare send another cat after her—not with the pack loose. All we could do was sit up in the trees around Sunningrocks and listen to the howling….” A shudder ran through his body. “But I should have done
something
.”

“You did everything,” Fireheart told him. “You stayed with the Clan and kept them safe. Bluestar made her own
decision in the end. It was the will of StarClan that she died to save us.”

Whitestorm nodded slowly, though his eyes were still troubled as he murmured, “Even though she had lost all faith in StarClan.”

Fireheart was aware of the secret they shared, that in her last moons Bluestar's mind had begun to give way. Shocked to the core by the discovery of Tigerstar's treachery, Bluestar had begun to believe that she was at war with her warrior ancestors. Fireheart and Whitestorm, with Cinderpelt's help, had managed for the most part to keep the knowledge of their leader's weakness from the rest of the Clan. But Fireheart also knew that Bluestar's feelings had changed during the last moments of her life.

“No, Whitestorm,” Fireheart replied, thankful that there was some comfort he could offer the gallant old warrior. “She made her peace with StarClan before she died. She knew exactly what she was doing, and why. Her mind was clear again, and her faith was strong.”

Joy tempered the pain in Whitestorm's eyes, and he bowed his head. Fireheart realized how devastating Bluestar's death must be for him; they had been friends throughout a long life.

By now the rest of the Clan had crept into the circle around Fireheart. He could see the traces of their terrible experience still in their eyes, along with fear for the future. Swallowing uncomfortably, he realized that it was his duty now to calm those fears.

“Fireheart,” Brackenfur asked hesitantly, “is it true that Bluestar's dead?”

Fireheart nodded. “Yes, it's true. She…she died saving me, and all of us.” For a moment he thought his voice would fail completely, and he swallowed hard. “You all know that I was the last cat on the trail to lead the dogs to the gorge. When I was almost at the edge, Tigerstar leaped out at me and held me down so that the pack leader caught up to me. He would have killed me, and the dogs would still be loose in the forest, if it hadn't been for Bluestar. She threw herself at the dog, right on the edge of the gorge, and…and they both went over.”

He could see a ripple of distress sweeping across his Clan mates, like wind stirring the trees.

“What happened then?” Frostfur asked quietly.

“I went in after her, but I couldn't save her.” Briefly Fireheart closed his eyes, remembering the churning water and his hopeless struggle to keep his leader afloat. “Mistyfoot and Stonefur from RiverClan came to help me when we had been swept clear of the gorge,” he went on. “Bluestar was alive when we got her out but it was too late. Her ninth life was over, and she left us to join StarClan.”

A yowl of grief came from somewhere among the circle of cats. Fireheart realized that many of the cats had not even been born when Bluestar became leader, and losing her now must feel as if the four great oaks of Fourtrees had been torn up overnight.

He raised his voice, forcing it not to shake. “Bluestar isn't
gone, you know. She's already watching over us from StarClan…her spirit is here with us now.”
Or in her den
, he thought privately,
sharing tongues with Stonefur and Mistyfoot.

“I would like to see Bluestar now,” meowed Speckletail. “Where is she—in her den?” She turned toward the entrance, flanked by Dappletail and Smallear.

“I'll come with you,” Frostfur offered, springing to her paws.

Alarm shot through Fireheart. He had hoped to give Mistyfoot and Stonefur as much time as possible with their dead mother, but he suddenly realized that apart from Graystripe and Sandstorm, no cats even knew that the two RiverClan warriors were in the camp.

“Wait—” he began, shouldering his way through the circle.

It was too late. Speckletail and Frostfur were already standing in the entrance to Bluestar's den, their fur bristling and their tails fluffed out to twice their normal size as they confronted the strange cats. A menacing snarl came from Frostfur. “What are
you
doing here?”

As Fireheart bounded across to Bluestar's
den, Speckle tail spun around to face him. Her eyes were burning with anger. “There are two RiverClan cats here,” she growled. “Mauling our leader's body!”

“No—no, they're not.” Fireheart gasped. “They've a right to be here.”

He realized that the rest of the Clan had gathered anxiously behind him and he heard Cloudtail yowling a challenge, with snarls of rage breaking out all around.

Fireheart whirled to face them. “Keep back!” he ordered. “It's all right. Mistyfoot and Stonefur—”

“You
know
they're here?” The voice was Darkstripe's; the dark tabby thrust his way through the crowd to stand nose-to-nose with Fireheart. “You let enemy cats into our camp—into our leader's den?”

Fireheart took a breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He deeply mistrusted the black-striped tabby. When the Clan had been preparing to escape the dog pack, Darkstripe had tried to slip away with Tigerstar's kits. He had sworn that he knew nothing of Tigerstar's plot to destroy ThunderClan
with the dogs, but Fireheart was not sure he believed him.

“Have you forgotten what I told you?” he asked. “Mistyfoot and Stonefur helped me to pull Bluestar out of the river.”

“So you say!” Darkstripe spat. “How do we know you're telling the truth? Why should RiverClan cats help ThunderClan?”

“They've helped us often enough in the past,” Fireheart reminded him. “More of us would have died after the fire if RiverClan hadn't given us shelter.”

“That's true,” meowed Mousefur. She had returned with Cinderpelt from the medicine cat's den in time to hear the confrontation, and now she pushed forward to stand beside Darkstripe. “But it's no excuse to leave them alone in the den with Bluestar's body. What are they doing in there?”

“We are giving honor to Bluestar.”

Stonefur spoke defiantly, and Fireheart turned his head to see that the RiverClan deputy and Mistyfoot had appeared in the mouth of the den. They both looked taken aback at the reaction of the ThunderClan cats, their fur beginning to bristle as they realized they were being treated as intruders.

“We wanted to say good-bye to her,” Mistyfoot meowed.

“Why?” Mousefur demanded.

Fireheart's stomach clenched as Mistyfoot faced the light brown she-cat and answered, “She was our mother.”

Silence fell, broken only by the call of a blackbird from the edge of the camp. Fireheart's mind raced as he faced the shocked, hostile stares of his Clan. His gaze met Sandstorm's; she looked dismayed, as if she guessed that Fireheart would
never have chosen for ThunderClan to discover their leader's secret like this.

“Your mother?” growled Speckletail. “I don't believe it. Bluestar would never have allowed her kits to be raised in another Clan.”

“Believe it or not, it's true,” Stonefur retorted.

Fireheart stepped forward, warning Stonefur to stay silent with a flick of his tail. “I'll deal with this now. You and Mistyfoot had better go.”

Stonefur gave him a curt nod and took the lead as he and Mistyfoot made their way toward the gorse tunnel. Fireheart heard one or two furious hisses as the ThunderClan cats parted to let them pass.

“The thanks of the Clan go with you,” Fireheart called out after them, his voice echoing thinly off the Highrock.

Mistyfoot and Stonefur didn't respond. They didn't even turn to look back before they vanished into the tunnel.

Every hair on Fireheart's pelt prickled with the desire to turn and run from his new responsibilities. The secret that had been so heavy to keep—that Bluestar had given up her kits to another Clan—would be heavier still in the sharing. He wished that he had been given more time to think of what to say, but he knew that it was better for his Clan to hear the truth from him now, instead of from Tigerstar at the next Gathering. As Clan leader he had to face the task, however little he liked it.

Dipping his head to Cinderpelt, he bounded up onto the Highrock. There was no need to summon the Clan;
they were already turning to look up at him. For a heartbeat Fireheart was breathless, unable to speak.

He could see their anger and confusion, and smell their fear scent. Darkstripe was watching him with narrowed eyes, as if he were already planning what to tell Tigerstar. Bleakly Fireheart reflected that Tigerstar already knew; he had heard what Bluestar said to her kits as she lay dying by the river. But the ShadowClan leader would certainly be pleased to hear about ThunderClan's confusion and Fireheart's own difficulties. Tigerstar was sure to find a way to twist it to his advantage in his quest for revenge against ThunderClan and his efforts to recover his kits, Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw.

Fireheart took a deep breath and began: “It's true that Mistyfoot and Stonefur are Bluestar's kits.” He struggled to keep his voice steady, and prayed to StarClan to give him the right words so that the cats would not turn against Bluestar. “Oakheart of RiverClan was their father. When her kits were born, Bluestar gave them to him to be brought up in his Clan.”

“How do you know?” snarled Frostfur. “Bluestar would never have done that! If the RiverClan cats said so, they're lying.”

“Bluestar told me herself,” Fireheart replied.

He met the white cat's gaze; her eyes blazed with fury, her teeth were bared, but she did not quite dare to accuse
him
of lying. “Are you telling us she was a traitor?” she hissed.

One or two cats yowled a protest. Frostfur spun around, fur bristling, and Whitestorm rose to face her. Though the
senior warrior looked stunned with shock, his voice was steady as he meowed, “Bluestar was
always
loyal to her Clan.”

“If she was so loyal,” Darkstripe put in, “why did she let a cat from another Clan father her kits?”

Fireheart found that question hard to answer. Not long ago, Graystripe had taken a mate from RiverClan, and his kits were growing up there now. The ThunderClan cats had been so horrified that Graystripe had felt he couldn't stay in his birth Clan any longer. Although he had returned, some cats still felt hostile to him and doubted his loyalty.

“Things happen,” Fireheart replied. “When the kits were born, Bluestar would have brought them up to be loyal ThunderClan warriors, but—”

“I remember those kits.” This time the interruption was from Smallear. “They disappeared out of the nursery. We all thought a fox or a badger had gotten them. Bluestar was distraught. Are you saying that was all a lie?”

Fireheart looked down at the old gray tomcat. “No,” he promised. “Bluestar was devastated at the loss of her kits. But she had to give them up in order to become Clan deputy.”

“You're telling us her ambition meant more to her than her kits?” asked Dustpelt. The brown warrior sounded puzzled rather than angry, as if he couldn't reconcile this image with the wise leader he had always known.

“No,” Fireheart told him. “She did it because the Clan needed her. She put the Clan first—just as she always did.”

“That's true,” Whitestorm agreed quietly. “Nothing meant more to Bluestar than ThunderClan.”

“Mistyfoot and Stonefur are proud of her courage—both then and now,” Fireheart went on. “As we should be.”

He was relieved when there were no more open challenges, though the tension among the Clan cats did not die away completely. Mousefur and Frostfur were muttering together, casting suspicious glances up at him. Speckletail, tail-tip twitching, stalked across to join them. But Whitestorm moved from one cat to another, clearly backing up what he had said, and Smallear was nodding wisely, as if he respected the hard decision Bluestar had made.

Then a single voice rose clearly out of the hum of conversation. “Fireheart,” Tawnypaw piped up, “are you going to be our leader now?”

Before Fireheart could reply, Darkstripe sprang to his paws. “Accept a kittypet as Clan leader? Are we all mad?”

“It's not a question, Darkstripe,” Whitestorm pointed out, raising his voice above shocked exclamations from Sandstorm and Graystripe. “Fireheart is Clan deputy; he succeeds Bluestar. That's all there is to it.”

Fireheart flashed him a grateful glance. The fur on his shoulders had begun to bristle and he deliberately relaxed so that it lay flat again. He would not let Darkstripe see that his challenging words had provoked him. Yet he could not stifle a moment of doubt. Bluestar had appointed him deputy, but her mind had been clouded by the shock of Tigerstar's treachery, and the whole Clan had been shocked because the ceremony had been late. Could that possibly mean he was not the right cat to lead ThunderClan?

“But a
kittypet
!” Darkstripe protested. His yellow eyes glared balefully up at Fireheart. “Stinking of Twolegs and their nests! Is that what we want as our leader?”

Fireheart felt the familiar rage burn in his belly. Even though he had lived with the Clan since he was six moons old, Darkstripe never let him forget that he was not forest-born.

As he struggled with the desire to leap down and sink his claws into Darkstripe's fur, Goldenflower rose to her paws and stepped forward to face the dark warrior. “You're wrong, Darkstripe,” she growled. “Fireheart has proved his loyalty to the Clan a thousand times over. No Clan-born cat could have done more.”

Fireheart blinked his thanks to her, surprised that Goldenflower of all cats should have supported him so determinedly. She knew of Fireheart's suspicions that her kit Bramblepaw would end up as dangerous as his father, Tigerstar. Though he had taken Bramblepaw as his own apprentice, he never felt comfortable around the young cat, and Goldenflower knew it. She had defended her kits fiercely against what she thought was Fireheart's unreasonable hostility. It was all the more surprising now that she should stand up for him against Dark stripe.

“Fireheart, don't listen to Darkstripe,” Brackenfur added his voice to Goldenflower's. “Every cat here wants you as leader, apart from him. You're obviously the best cat for the job.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the cats around the Highrock, and Fireheart's heart swelled with gratitude.

“And who are we to go against the decrees of StarClan?”
Mousefur added. “The deputy
always
becomes Clan leader. That is the tradition of the warrior code.”

“Which Fireheart seems to know rather better than
you
do,” Graystripe hissed, flicking his tail contemptuously at Darkstripe. He knew as well as Fireheart that the dark warrior had plotted with Tigerstar before the dog attack.

Fireheart gestured with one paw to his friend for silence before addressing the whole Clan. “I promise you that I will spend the rest of my life striving to become the leader that ThunderClan deserves. And with StarClan's help I will succeed.”

His gaze was drawn instinctively to Sandstorm, and he felt warmth spread into his paws and the tip of his tail when he saw how proud she looked.

“As for you, Darkstripe,” Fireheart spat, unable to hide his anger, “if you don't like the thought of being led by a kittypet, you can always leave.”

The dark warrior lashed his tail; there was pure hatred in the look he threw Fireheart.
If I had never come to the forest
, Fireheart realized,
Tigerstar would be leader now, and you would be deputy
.

He had never intended to provoke a public confrontation with Darkstripe, but the dark tabby had driven him to it. Though ThunderClan could not afford to lose any warriors, a large part of Fireheart wanted Darkstripe to take him at his word and leave the Clan for good. Yet at the same time he knew that Darkstripe would go straight to ShadowClan and Tigerstar. It was better, Fireheart admitted to himself,
to keep his enemies apart. Darkstripe would be less of a threat in ThunderClan, where Fireheart could keep an eye on him.

The black-striped warrior went on staring at him for a few heartbeats more, before whipping around to stalk away. But he did not head for the gorse tunnel; instead he vanished into the warriors' den.

“Right.” Fireheart raised his voice as he turned back to the rest of the Clan. “Tonight we will hold the mourning rituals for Bluestar.”

“Hang on!” Cloudtail sprang to his paws, tail fluffed up. “Aren't we going to attack ShadowClan? They slaughtered Brindleface and they led the dog pack to our camp! Don't you want revenge?”

His fur was bristling with hostility. Brindleface had been Cloudtail's foster mother when he first came to ThunderClan as a helpless kit. But Fireheart knew that attacking ShadowClan right now was not the answer.

He signaled with his tail to silence the yowls of agreement that had broken out as soon as Cloudtail spoke. “No,” he meowed. “This is not the time to attack ShadowClan.”

“
What
?” Cloudtail stared at him disbelievingly. “You'd let them get away with it?”

Fireheart took a deep breath. “ShadowClan didn't kill Brindleface, or lay the trail for the dogs. Tigerstar did. Every rabbit on the trail had his scent on it and no other cat's. We can't be sure that ShadowClan even knew what their leader was planning.”

Cloudtail let out a snort of contempt. Fireheart fixed his former apprentice with a hard stare, willing him not to argue about this now. He knew that what had happened was due to the moons-old enmity between himself and Tigerstar. The ShadowClan leader would have been pleased to wipe out ThunderClan and take their territory for his own, but that was not his real motive for bringing the pack of dogs to the camp. What Tigerstar wanted more than anything else was to destroy Fireheart. Only then would he have his full revenge for the time when Fireheart had revealed his plot to kill Bluestar and driven him into exile.

Sooner or later, Fireheart now knew, he would have to come face-to-face with Tigerstar in a final confrontation that only one of them could survive. He prayed to StarClan that when the time came he would have the courage and strength to rid the forest of this bloodthirsty cat.