The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

“I can see that,” Brackenfur meowed, his eyes troubled. “But we can’t watch him forever.”

“It won’t be forever,” Fireheart assured him. “Just until Darkstripe proves where his loyalties lie—one way or the other.”

Brackenfur nodded, then slipped silently into the warriors’ den. With no more problems clamoring for his attention, Fireheart was able to cross the clearing to Bluestar’s body. Cinderpelt still sat near her head and Whitestorm was crouched beside her, his head bowed in grief.

Fireheart dipped his head to the medicine cat. He settled himself beside Bluestar, searching her face for signs of the leader he had loved so much. But her eyes were closed, never again to burn with the fire that had commanded respect from all the Clans. Her spirit had gone to race joyously through the sky with her warrior ancestors’, keeping watch over the forest.

He felt the soft caress of his leader’s fur and felt a sense of security flood over him, almost as if he were a kit again, curling up close to his mother. For a moment he could almost forget the horror of her dying and the loneliness of his new responsibilities.

Receive her with honor, Fireheart prayed silently to StarClan, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to Bluestar’s fur. And help me keep her Clan safe.

CHAPTER 3

Something was prodding Fireheart in the side. With a muffled mew of protest he opened his eyes to see Cinderpelt stooping over him.

“You dozed off,” she murmured. “But you’ll have to wake up now. It’s time to bury Bluestar.”

Fireheart staggered to his paws. He flexed each stiff leg in turn and passed his dry tongue over his lips. He felt as if he had been crouching in the clearing for a moon at least. The sense of comfort he had felt as he slept was replaced by a wave of guilt.

“Did any cat see?” he muttered to Cinderpelt.

The medicine cat’s blue eyes glimmered with sympathy. “Only me. Don’t worry about it, Fireheart. No cat would blame you after what happened yesterday.”

Fireheart glanced around the clearing. The pale light of dawn was just beginning to seep through the trees. A few tail-lengths away the elders had assembled to carry out their duty of bearing Bluestar’s body to the burial place. The rest of the Clan were slowly emerging from their dens, forming two lines between Bluestar’s body and the entrance to the gorse tunnel.

At a nod from Cinderpelt, the elders took up the body and carried Bluestar between the rows of her grieving warriors. Every cat bowed his head as their leader was borne past.

“Good-bye, Bluestar,” Fireheart murmured. “I’ll never forget you.” Sharp thorns of pain pierced his heart when he saw the tip of her tail scoring a furrow in the blackened leaves that still lay on the ground after the recent fire.

When Bluestar had vanished with her escort, the rest of the cats began to disperse. Fireheart checked the camp, noticing with approval that the pile of fresh-kill had been stocked up. All he needed to do was send out the dawn patrol; then he could eat and rest. He felt as if a moon of sleep would not be enough to banish the exhaustion from his paws.

“Well, Fireheart,” meowed Cinderpelt. “Are you ready?”

Fireheart turned, puzzled. “Ready?”

“To go to the Moonstone to receive your nine lives from StarClan.” The tip of Cinderpelt’s tail twitched. “Fireheart, surely you hadn’t forgotten?”

Fireheart shuffled his paws uneasily. Of course he hadn’t forgotten the ancient ceremony to initiate all new Clan leaders, but somehow he hadn’t realized that it would take place right away. He felt dazed by the speed with which everything was happening, bearing him forward relentlessly like the swift waters of the gorge that had almost drowned him.

Fear rose in his throat and he had to swallow quickly. No leader ever spoke of the mystic rite, so no other cat, except for the medicine cats, knew what happened there. Fireheart had visited the Moonstone before and watched Bluestar share tongues with StarClan in her sleep. That experience had been awe-inspiring enough. He could not imagine what would happen when he had to lie beside the sacred stone himself and share dreams with his warrior ancestors.

On top of this, he knew that Highstones, where the Moonstone lay in a cavern far underground, was a whole day’s journey away, and the ritual demanded that he not eat beforehand, not even the strengthening herbs that other cats took for the journey.

“StarClan will give you strength,” meowed Cinderpelt, as if she had read his thoughts.

Fireheart muttered in vague agreement. Glancing around, he spotted Whitestorm on his way to the warriors’ den and summoned the older warrior with a flick of his tail.

“I’ve got to go to Highstones,” he meowed. “Will you take charge of the camp? We’ll need a dawn patrol.”

“Consider it done,” promised Whitestorm, and added, “StarClan go with you, Fireheart.”

Fireheart took a last look around the camp as he followed Cinderpelt toward the gorse tunnel. He felt as if he were going on a long journey, farther than he had ever traveled before, where the prospect of return looked doubtful. And in a way he never would return, for the cat who came back would have a new name, new responsibilities, and a new relationship with StarClan.

As he turned away, a yowl sounded behind him. Graystripe and Sandstorm were racing across the clearing.

“You weren’t sneaking off without saying good-bye?” Graystripe panted, skidding to a halt.

Sandstorm said nothing, but she twined her tail with Fireheart’s and pressed close to his side.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Fireheart meowed. “Listen,” he added awkwardly, “I know things will be different now, but I’ll never stop needing you—both of you. No cat ever had such good friends.”

Graystripe butted him in the shoulder. “We know that, you stupid furball,” he mewed.

Sandstorm’s green eyes shone as she gazed into Fireheart’s. “We’ll always need you too, Fireheart,” she murmured. “And you’d better not forget that.”

“Fireheart, come on!” Cinderpelt called from where she was waiting at the entrance to the gorse tunnel. “We have to reach Highstones by nightfall—and remember I can’t move as fast as you.”

“Coming!” Fireheart gave each of his friends a quick lick before plunging into the gorse tunnel after the medicine cat. His heart felt full of hope as he caught up to her and made his way to the top of the ravine. He might have been leaving his old life behind, but he could take with him everything that was important.

The sun was up in a clear blue sky and the frost had melted from the grass by the time the two cats reached Fourtrees, where the Gatherings were held between all four Clans every full moon.

“I hope we don’t meet a WindClan patrol,” Fireheart remarked as they crossed the border onto the high, exposed moorland, leaving the shelter of the forest behind them.

Not long before, Bluestar had tried to launch an attack on WindClan, accusing them of stealing prey from ThunderClan. Fireheart had disobeyed his leader and risked accusations of treachery to avoid a battle. Although Tallstar, the WindClan leader, had been prepared to make peace, Fireheart could imagine that the WindClan cats might still bear a grudge.

“They won’t stop us,” Cinderpelt replied calmly.

“They might try,” Fireheart argued. “I’d rather avoid them altogether.”

His hopes were dashed as he and Cinderpelt reached the crest of a stretch of moorland and saw a WindClan patrol picking their way through the heather a few foxlengths below. They were downwind, so Fireheart had not detected their scent as a warning.

The leader of the patrol raised his head, and Fireheart recognized the warrior Tornear. His heart sank when he saw that his old enemy Mudclaw was just behind him, with an apprentice Fireheart didn’t know. He and Cinderpelt waited as the WindClan cats bounded through the heather toward them; there was no point in trying to avoid them now.

Mudclaw curled his lip in a snarl, but Torn ear dipped his head as he halted in front of Fireheart. “Greeting

s, Fireheart, Cinderpelt,” he meowed. “Why are you here on our territory?”

“We’re on our way to Highstones,” Cinderpelt replied, taking a step forward.

Fireheart felt a surge of pride to see the respectful nod the WindClan warrior gave to his medicine cat.

“No bad news, I hope?” Tornear asked; cats did not usually travel to Highstones unless a crisis in their Clan demanded direct communication with StarClan.