The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

His thoughts were interrupted by a yowl from Cloudtail among the bushes at the top of the ravine. “Over here! She went this way!”

W h en Firestar bounded up to join him, he too could distinguish the faintest trace of Tawnypaw’s scent. He and Cloudtail followed it into the trees, noses to the ground as they focused on the traces of cat among all the stronger, distracting scents of prey. No other cat’s scent joined Tawnypaw’s. This far, at least, she had been alone.

T h en, at the edge of a clearing, they lost the scent trail again, and not even Cloudtail’s sharp nose could pick it up.

A cold wind had sprung up, driving clouds across the moon and ruffling the cats’ fur, and as Firestar cast back and forth across the clearing in a last effort to find the scent again, a thin, icy rain began to fall.

“Mouse dung!” Cloudtail spat. “That just about finishes us.”

Reluctantly Firestar agreed. Calling Sandstorm and Thornclaw back from their own searches, he meowed, “Let’s get back. We can’t do any more.”

Sandstorm stood still for a moment, gazing in the direction that the scent trail had seemed to lead. “It looks as if she was heading for Fourtrees.”

That made sense, Firestar reflected. Fourtrees was the obvious place to go if Tawnypaw wanted to meet with a cat from another Clan, or to cross into another Clan’s territory. Every hair on his pelt prickled with dread. He couldn’t persuade himself any longer that Tawnypaw had just wandered off to hunt, and he could see from the troubled looks of his warriors that they shared his growing conviction: Tawnypaw had gone to ShadowClan.

When the patrol returned to the camp, Brackenfur and Bramblepaw were still anxiously waiting in the clearing. They had been joined by Tawnypaw’s mother, Goldenflower, and Mousefur. All four cats looked bedraggled and despairing in the rain that was falling more heavily now.

“Well?” Goldenflower asked as Firestar came up to her. “What did you find?”

“No thing,” Firestar meowed quietly. “We don’t know where she is.”

“Then why aren’t you still out there looking?” Goldenflower’s voice was sharp.

Firestar shook his head. “There’s nothing more we can do in the dark and the rain. She could be anywhere.”

“You don’t care, do you?” Goldenflower’s meow rose, high-pitched with anger. “You think she left deliberately! You never trusted her!”

Firestar struggled to answer, knowing that her accusation was half-true. But Goldenflower did not wait. Instead, she spun around and disappeared beneath the branches of the warriors’ den.

“Wait!” Firestar called, but she ignored him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Sandstorm meowed sympathetically. “I’ll go and calm her down.” She slipped into the den behind Goldenflower.

Tired and discouraged, Firestar turned to Bramblepaw, expecting a similar accusation from him. But his apprentice was standing quietly, and the look in his amber eyes was unreadable.

“It’s okay, Firestar,” he meowed. “I know you did all you could. Thank you.” Head down and tail drooping, he made his way back to the apprentices’ den.

Firestar watched him go. Exhaustion flooded over him; it seemed like several moons since Graystripe had first suggested going to RiverClan to see his kits. A chilly gray dawn was beginning to seep into the sky, and Firestar desperately needed to rest, but there was one more duty to perform first. He had to visit Cinderpelt, and make sure the RiverClan cats would recover from their ordeal.

As he padded across the clearing to the medicine cat’s den, Firestar felt all his doubts about his leadership welling up again. One warrior banished, and gone to join his enemy—and willing to kill to prove his new loyalties. One apprentice vanished. And the whole forest caught up in terror and hatred that Firestar saw no way to combat. The vision of himself wearing the mane of LionClan that he had seen in the stream seemed a long way away. If StarClan really had destined him for greatness, Firestar couldn’t help wondering if they had chosen the wrong cat.

Standing on the Highrock, Firestar watched as his Clan emerged from their dens. It was the morning after his expedition to RiverClan territory, and he had called a meeting to tell his warriors exactly what had happened, and to explain the presence of the three RiverClan cats.

Mistyfoot and the two apprentices were sitting at the base of the Highrock with Graystripe and Cinderpelt. Firestar was pleased to see that they already looked stronger, as if their energy was coming back after a good meal and with Cinderpelt’s care.

Ravenpaw had left at dawn, his injured ear swathed in cobweb and a gleam in his eyes as he recalled the battle on the stepping-stones.

“Amazing how my old training came back to me,” he meowed to Firestar. “I hadn’t forgotten the fighting moves.”

“You did brilliantly,” Firestar purred. “You’re a real friend to ThunderClan.”

“Now that Tigerstar is rising to power, I think ThunderClan needs all the friends it can get,” the loner mewed seriously.

Ravenpaw had spent a few moments by Bluestar’s grave and then set out for the farm near Highstones. Firestar wondered if he would need to call on Ravenpaw for help again. Tigerstar’s enemies would have to unite to drive him out of the forest—yet Firestar knew that the final confrontation must be his alone.

He waited until all the Clan cats had settled themselves around the Highrock, and then began to speak.

“You’ve all heard by now that Graystripe, Ravenpaw, and I went over to RiverClan territory last night.” He described the Bonehill and the rotting prey strewn around the clearing, and how Tigerstar had whipped up the hatred of his warriors against half-Clans—cats whose parents came from two different Clans. Firestar’s voice shook as he described the murder of Stonefur, and the cats below him shuddered and flatten e d themselves against the ground in sympathy and terror.

Dustpelt growled, “Why aren’t we attacking ShadowClan right now, then, for revenge?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that,” Firestar replied. “ThunderClan alone can’t take on ShadowClan and RiverClan combined, and expect to win.”

“We can have a good try,” retorted Cloudtail, springing to his paws.

“But where would we attack?” asked Firestar. “There’ll be warriors from both Clans in the RiverClan camp, and I don’t expect TigerStar has left the ShadowClan camp unguarded.

“I feel just the same as you,” he went on. “I don’t like what Tigerstar is doing, and I’m afraid of what he might do in the future. I’d like to know what StarClan want us to do, but so far I’ve had no word from them. Cinderpelt, have they spoken to you?”

The medicine cat glanced up at him. “No, not yet.”

With an angry flick of his ears, Cloudtail sat down again, and Brightheart rubbed against his shoulder to calm him down.

In the brief pause, Firestar wondered if it was true to say that he had received no message from StarClan. There had been the vision of himself in the stream, wearing the glory of LionClan. He thought again of Bluestar’s prophecy that Four will become two; lion and tiger will join in battle.

Suddenly understanding dawned on Firestar like a ray of sunlight striking through branches. Four Clans would become two; did that mean ThunderClan must join with WindClan?

“We’re still here, Firestar!” Dustpelt’s voice disturbed his thoughts.

Firestar started. “Sorry,” he meowed. “I’ve called you here to welcome the three RiverClan cats we rescued. You all know Mistyfoot, and Featherpaw and Stormpaw, Graystripe’s kits. I think we should offer them a place in ThunderClan until it’s safe for them to go home.”

Murmuring broke out around the clearing as he made the suggestion. Most cats agreed with him, Firestar could see, but a few others were looking uncertain.

Longtail was the first to voice his doubts. “That’s all very well, Firestar, and I’m sorry for what they’ve been through, but if they stay here, what are they going to eat? It’s the middle of leaf-bare. We’

ve got our work cut out feeding ourselves.”

“I’ll hunt for them!” Graystripe sprang up to face the Clan. “I can feed all three of them, and more of the Clan as well.”

“We’re not helpless, you know,” added Mistyfoot. “Give us a day or two to get stronger, and we’ll hunt for ourselves and you as well.”

Mousefur got up and spoke directly to Firestar. “It’s not a question of who’s going to hunt. This is a harder leaf-bare than usual, after the fire. We’re all hungry, and we’ll need all the strength we can get if we’re going to have to fight this TigerClan. I say they should go home.”

Sandstorm leaped to her paws before Firestar could speak.” They can’t go home,” she pointed out. “Weren’t you listening? They’ll be murdered if they do, like Stonefur.”

“Do you want it to be known that ThunderClan sent cats to their death?” Brackenfur added.

Mousefur looked down at her paws, anger making her fur bristle.