The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

“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?”

CHAPTER 2

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.”