The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

“You’ll come no farther if you want to stay alive,” snarled Sandstorm.

The ShadowClan warriors milled about uncertainly on the first two or three stones. Unused to the river, they were unsteady on their paws and clearly unwilling to join battle with the furious ThunderClan cats.

“Get back!” Blackfoot yowled as he clambered onto the bank, his fur streaming. “Let them escape; they’re only half-Clan crowfood.”

His warriors seemed happy to obey, and within moments all the ShadowClan cats had vanished into the reeds.

Firestar concentrated on helping the two apprentices finish crossing. Graystripe and Ravenpaw followed closely behind. Checking his cats for wounds, Firestar saw that Graystripe had lost a clump of fur from one shoulder, and Ravenpaw’s left ear was bleeding, but otherwise they seemed unhurt.

“Well done, all of you,” he meowed, turning to the other ThunderClan warriors. “I was never so glad to see any cats as when you three came out of the forest. What brought you her e?”

“You did,” Cloudtail panted. “You ordered extra patrols to watch the border. Lucky for you that we came along w h en we did.”

Firestar felt his legs go weak with relief. StarClan had sent the patrol at just the right moment. “Okay,” he meowed, “we’d better get back to camp. These three cats need to rest. Ravenpaw, you’d better come too and let Cinderpelt look at that ear.”

Firestar stayed at the rear in case the ShadowClan warriors decided to cross the river after all, but behind them every thing was quiet. After a few moments, Sandstorm dropped back to join him.

“What happened?” she asked. “What are these RiverClan cats doing here?”

Firestar paused to give her ear a quick lick. “They were prisoners,” he explained. “If we’d left them there, Tigerstar would have killed them.”

Sandstorm turned her green gaze on him, horrified. “Why?”

“Because their parents came from different Clans,” Firestar explained. “Tigerstar says half-Clan cats aren’t fit to live in any Clan.”

“But his own kits are half-Clan!” Sandstorm protested.

Firestar shook his head. “No, because Tigerstar was a ThunderClan cat when they were born. At least, that would be his excuse. You don’t think that the great Tigerstar would father anything but pure-blooded kits, do you?”

The shock and disgust in Sandstorm’s eyes deepened, then turned to sympathy as she looked at the RiverClan cats. “Poor things,” she murmured. “Will you let them stay in ThunderClan?”

Firestar nodded. “What else can we do?”

The moon was high and bathing the ravine in a silvery light by the time that Firestar and the others reached the camp. Firestar could hardly believe that everything could be so peaceful here, only a short distance from the bloodstained clearing of the Bonehill and all the violence unleashed by Tigerstar’s ambition.

But as he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the camp, the illusion of peace was shattered. Whitestorm came hurrying toward him with Brackenfur at his heels. The younger warrior looked distraught.

“Thank StarClan you’re back, Firestar!” he exclaimed. “It’s Tawnypaw—she’s disappeared!”

CHAPTER 18

“Disappeared?” Firestar echoed in alarm. “What happened?”

“We’re not sure.” Whitestorm was calmer than Brackenfur, but his eyes gave away his concern. “It was Bramblepaw who first said he couldn’t find her. I thought he was making a fuss about nothing, but we searched the camp. She isn’t here, and no cat saw her leave.”

“It’s my fault!” Brackenfur broke in. “I’m her mentor.”

“It’s not your fault,” Whitestorm assured him. “I sent you on hunting patrol. No cat expects you to be in two places at once.”

Brackenfur shook his head despairingly.

“Fetch Bramblepaw,” Firestar ordered; Thornclaw bounded off at once to the apprentices’ den.

While he waited, Firestar sent Ravenpaw and the three RiverClan cats to see Cinderpelt; Graystripe went with them to explain what had happened, and to assure himself that his kits would be all right. Though the gray warrior was cold and drenched from the icy river, all his concern was for his kits, and as they crossed the clearing he stuck close to their side like a bulky shadow.

“I don’t know what to think,” meowed Whitestorm when they had gone. “Maybe Tawnypaw got some idea into her head and went off by herself. She could be trapped or injured somewhere—”

“Or she could be in ShadowClan,” Brackenfur interrupted, his fur bristling. “Tigerstar could have stolen her!”

“But Tigerstar was over in RiverClan territory,” Firestar told them quietly. “So were Blackfoot and Darkstripe.” He saw Whitestorm’s ears twitch in surprise, and he knew he would have to explain every thing to his deputy as soon as possible.

“He could have sent some other cat to do his dirty work,” Cloudtail put in.

“Have you scented ShadowClan cats around the camp?” Firestar asked Whitestorm. “Or RiverClan?”

The white warrior shook his head. “No cats but our own, Firestar.”

“Then it sounds as if she left willingly,” Firestar meowed. “Perhaps she just felt like hunting by herself for a change.” But he couldn’t help remembering the incident before he left the camp, when Tawnypaw had been furious with Smallear for comparing her with her father. Firestar wondered if he had misjudged how hurt she had felt.

He broke off his thoughts as Bramblepaw came up. “Tell me what Tawnypaw did before she disappeared,” Firestar ordered.

“Just the usual apprentice chores.” Bramblepaw sounded anxious; his amber eyes were wide and confu

sed. “We changed the elders’ bedding and brought them fresh-kill, and I went to get some mouse bile from Cinderpelt to put on a tick in Smallear’s fur. When I came back Tawnypaw had gone, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Where have you looked so far?”

“I went back to where we got the moss for the bedding, but she wasn’t there,” his apprentice replied. “And I checked the training hollow.”

Firestar nodded. “Did you ask the elders if she said anything to them?”

“I did,” replied Whitestorm, “but they couldn’t remember anything out of the ordinary.”

“And what about Goldenflower?” Firestar went on. “Did Tawnypaw say anything to her?”

Whitestorm shook his head. “She was frantic. I sent her with Mousefur to search toward Tallpines. They aren’t back yet.”

“Did you try to track Tawnypaw?” Firestar asked.

“Yes, of course,” Brackenfur replied. “We tracked her to the top of the ravine, but after that we lost the scent.”

Firestar hesitated. More than anything he wanted to believe that there was an easy explanation for Tawnypaw’s absence. StarClan forbid he should wish a young cat to be lying injured somewhere, but even that would be preferable to his worst fears, that Tawnypaw had gone willingly to join her father.

“I’ll try again,” he decided. “It’s probably too late, but—”

“I’ll come with you,” Cloudtail offered.

Firestar gave him a nod of gratitude; Cloudtail was one of the best trackers in the Clan. “Ok a y,” he meowed. “Sandstorm, Thornclaw, you come too.”

Firestar led the way out of the camp again. Exhaustion dragged at his paws; the night was half-over, and so far he had not slept. He would have liked nothing better than to settle down in his den with a piece of fresh-kill, but he guessed it would be a long time before he could do that.

It was not difficult to pick up Tawnypaw’s scent in the ravine, even though it was fading by now, but toward the top he lost it, as Brackenfur had done. Firestar began to suspect that the young cat had leaped from rock to rock, where her scent would not linger, so as to confuse any cats who might try to follow her. Firestar’s worst fears flooded back; had Tawnypaw really been so unhappy in ThunderClan that she felt she had to leave?