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, a p art 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.
“Believe me,” he meowed out loud, addressing the whole Clan, “Tigerstar will pay. But ThunderClan has no quarrel with ShadowClan.”
To Fireheart’s relief, Cloudtail sat down again, his blue eyes blazing with anger, and muttered something to Lostface. Nearby, Goldenflower was crouched with her tail wrapped protectively around Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, as if they were still young kits. She had made Fireheart himself tell the young cats what Tigerstar had done, and she was always afraid that the Clan would judge them harshly because of their father’s crimes. As Fireheart gave his decision not to attack, she visibly relaxed, and the two apprentices eased away from her. Bramblepaw flashed a look at Firestar from n arrowed amber eyes, and Fireheart wondered if he saw hostility there.
He pushed the problem of Bramblepaw to the back of his mind as he looked out over the assembled cats. Long shadows were stretching across the camp, and Fireheart realized that the time had come for the Clan to make its last farewells to their beloved leader. “We must pay our respects to Bluestar,” he announced. “Are you ready, Cinderpelt?” The medicine cat nodded. “Graystripe, Sandstorm,” Fireheart went on, “can you bring Bluestar’s body out into the clearing so that we may share tongues with her in the sight of StarClan?”
The two warriors got up and vanished into Bluestar’s den, reappearing a moment later with their leader’s body supported between them. They carried her to the center of the clearing and laid her gently onto the hard-packed sand.
“Sandstorm, round up a hunting patrol,” Fireheart ordered. “When you’ve said good-bye to Bluestar I’d like you to stock up the fresh-kill pile. And Mousefur, when you have finished, could you lead a patrol out toward Snakerocks and the ShadowClan border? I want to be sure that all the dogs have gone, and that there are no ShadowClan cats on our territory. Be careful, though—don’t take risks.”
&nbs
p; “Sure, Fireheart.” The wiry brown tabby got to her paws. “Goldenflower, Longtail, are you coming?”
The cats she had named went to join her, and all three moved into the center of the clearing to share tongues with their leader for the last time. Sandstorm followed with Dustpelt and Cloudtail. Cinderpelt stood at Bluestar’s head and gazed into the indigo sky, where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear. According to the ancient traditions of the Clans, each star represented the spirit of a warrior ancestor. Fireheart wondered if there were one more star tonight, for Bluestar.
Cinderpelt’s blue eyes shone with the secrets of StarClan. “Bluestar was a noble leader,” she meowed. “Let us give thanks to StarClan for her life. She was dedicated to her Clan, and her memory will never fade from the forest. Now we commend her spirit to StarClan; may she watch over us in death as she always did in life.”
A soft murmuring spread throughout the Clan as the medicine cat finished speaking and stood with her head bowed. The warriors Fireheart had chosen to go out on patrol crouched beside Bluestar’s body, grooming her fur and pressing their noses to her flank. After a while they backed away and other cats took their place, until all the Clan had shared tongues with their leader in the sorrowful ritual.
The patrols left, and the other cats retreated silently to their dens. Fireheart stood watching near the base of the Highrock, and as Brackenfur moved away from his leader’s body he stepped forward to intercept the young warrior. “I’ve got a job for you,” he murmured. “I want you to keep an eye on Darkstripe for me. If he so much as looks across the border to ShadowClan, I want to know about it.”
The young ginger tom gazed at him, alarm battling with loyalty to his new Clan leader. “I’ll do my best, Fireheart, but he won’t like it.”
“With any luck, he won’t know about it. Don’t make it too obvious, and ask one or two of the others to help you…Mousefur, maybe, and Frostfur.” Seeing that Brackenfur was still doubtful, Fireheart added, “Darkstripe may not have known about the dogs, but he knew that Tigerstar was planning something. We can’t trust him.”