The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

Firestar stared at him. “But what about caring for kits and elders?”

Barley shrugged. “A she-cat’s mate will probably hunt for her while she’s nursing her kits,” he mewed. “Even Scourge realizes that if there are no kits, sooner or later there’s no Clan. But elders, or cats who are sick or injured—well, they’re left to fend for themselves. It’s kill or be killed, hunt or starve. There’s no room for weakness.”

Firestar felt every hair on his pelt bristle at the thought of a Clan that did not care for cats who were in need, where cats who had given good service were allowed to die if they could not care for themselves.

“Then why does any cat follow Scourge?” he burst out.

“Some of them enjoy killing.” Barley’s tone was cold and his eyes were bleak, staring at something Firestar could not see. “And others are too scared to do anything else. You can’t lead your own life in Twolegplace if you’re not a kittypet with a Twoleg nest to go to. Either you’re with Scourge or against him, and cats who are against him don’t last long.”

Ravenpaw shifted closer to his friend and pressed his muzzle comfortingly against his flank. “That’s why Barley left,” he meowed. “Tell Firestar about it, Barley.”

“There’s nothing much to tell.” Barley flinched, shrinking from some dark memory. “I couldn’t bear what Scourge was doing, so one night I slipped away. I was terrified that Scourge or his warriors would catch me, but I reached the edge of Twolegplace and crossed the Thunderpath. I scented cats in the forest, but at the time I thought they would be just like Scourge and his lot, so I kept away from them. And finally I came to the farm, where it seemed I could live unchallenged. The Twolegs leave me in peace. They have no use for their mice.”

He fell silent while Firestar thought rapidly. Barley’s words confirmed what he had already known, that Scourge was a violent and dangerous enemy. “Scourge must have weaknesses,” he meowed to Barley. “There must be some way of defeating him.”

Barley met his eyes and leaned toward Firestar. “His one great strength is his one great weakness,” he replied. “Scourge and his warriors don’t believe in StarClan.”

Firestar wondered what he meant. Cloudtail had no belief in StarClan, but he was still a loyal ThunderClan cat. What was Barley trying to tell him?

“BloodClan has no medicine cat,” Barley went on. “I’ve already told you, they don’t care for the sick, and if they don’t believe in StarClan, there aren’t any signs that could be interpreted.”

“Then…they don’t follow the warrior code?” That had been a stupid question, Firestar realized as soon as the words were out. Everything Barley had told him, everything he had seen for himself of the way Scourge and his cats behaved, confirmed that. “And you’re telling me that’s a weakness? All it means is they can do as they like, with no code of honor to stop them.”

“That’s true,” Barley admitted. “But think, Firestar. Without the warrior code you might be just as bloodthirsty as Scourge. You might even be better at fighting him. But without the belief in StarClan—what are you then?”

He met Firestar’s eyes steadily. Firestar’s head reeled. After what Barley had told him he dreaded BloodClan even more, and yet somewhere in his mind there was a faint spark of hope, as if StarClan were trying to tell him something that he couldn’t understand—or not yet.

“Thank you, Barley,” he meowed. “I’ll think about what you’ve told me. And I won’t forget that you tried to help us.”

“That’s not all we’ll do.” Ravenpaw rose to his paws. “Onewhisker told us that you’re meeting Scourge in battle in three days—two days, now. When you do, we’ll both be with you.”

Firestar stared at him, mouth open. “But you’re loners,” he began. “It’s not your quarrel….”

“Come on, Firestar,” Barley mewed. “If Scourge and his gang take over the forest, how long do you think we would last? It wouldn’t take them a quarter moon to find our barn and all the plump mice. We’d have the choice of getting out or being killed.”

“We’d rather fight for our friends,” Ravenpaw added quietly.

“Thank you.” Firestar felt humbled by the depth of loyalty the two loners were showing to him. “All the Clans will honor you.”

Barley snorted. “I don’t know about that. All I want is a quiet life—but I won’t get it until BloodClan is dealt with.”

“None if us will.” Firestar’s ears twitched in agreement. “There’s no hope for any of us while Scourge is in the forest.”

Firestar had said good-bye to Ravenpaw and Barley and was heading for the sandy hollow to check up on the training program when he spotted Longtail and Frostfur leaping down the ravine. Firestar paused and waited for them.

“Any news?” he asked.

Lo n g tail nodded. “We’ve been along the ShadowClan border as far as Fourtrees,” he reported. “There’s a reek of BloodClan coming from ShadowClan territory. You get the foul stink in your nose even from across the Thunderpath.”

“They must be hiding out over there,” Frostfur added.

“That makes sense,” Firestar mewed thoughtfully. “But where has ShadowClan gone?”

“I was coming to that.” Longtail’s eyes were wide with excitement. “We picked up their scent at Fourtrees—the scent of many cats traveling in the same direction. I believe they crossed into RiverClan territory.”

“So they went to their allies in RiverClan,” Firestar mused. He wondered what sort of a welcome they would get. Would Leopardstar try to regain her old authority now that Tigerstar was dead?

Firestar shrugged. He had problems enough of his own without worrying about Leopardstar’s. “Thanks, Longtail,” he meowed. “We needed to know that. Go and get something to eat.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, Longtail led the way into the gorse tunnel with Frostfur close behind him. Firestar stood watching them go, and when the tip of Frostfur’s tail had vanished he went on to watch his cats training.

Graystripe was standing on a jutting slab of rock overlooking the apprentices. He pricked his ears in greeting as Firestar came to join him.

“How is it going?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Graystripe replied. “If Scourge could see us, he’d bolt straight back to Twolegplace with his tail between his legs.”

The gray warrior was wearing a look of stubborn determination that Firestar remembered from the days of his forbidden relationship with Silverstream. Briefly he wished that he could tell Graystripe about seeing Silverstream in his dream at the Moonstone, but it wouldn’t help his friend’s grief. The beautiful she-cat was still dead, and Firestar hoped it would be a long time before Graystripe joined her in the ranks of StarClan.

“At any rate,” Graystripe went on, “we’re the best fighting force this forest has ever seen.” His eyes widened as his gaze fell on a mock fight between Bramblepaw and Thornclaw. “Hang on a minute, I need to give Bramblepaw a tip about his clawing action.”

He leaped down from the rock and bounded across the hollow, leaving Firestar to look around. Closest to him, Speckletail and Smallear were stalking around each other, waiting for a chance to spring. Sandstorm was instructing Willowpelt’s three kits on the other side of the hollow. Firestar padded down to watch and he heard her meowing, “Okay, I’m a BloodClan warrior and I’ve just broken into your camp. What are you going to-“

The last word became a screech as Sorrelkit pounced and bit down hard on her tail. Sandstorm spun around, one forepaw raised with claws sheathed, but before she could bat Sorrelkit away, Sootkit and Rainkit jumped on her from behind. The ginger she-cat vanished under a writhing mass of kits.

By the time Firestar reached her, she was struggling free of them, her green eyes alight with laughter. “Well done!” she meowed. “If I really was from BloodClan, I’d be running scared by now.” Turning to Firestar, she added, “Hi, there. Did you see these three? In a few moons they’ll make great warriors!”

“I’m sure they

will,” Firestar mewed. “You’re doing very well,” he praised them. “And no cat could teach you better than Sandstorm.”

“I want Sandstorm to be my mentor when I’m an apprentice,” Sorrelkit meowed. “Can she, Firestar?”

“No, I want her!” Sootkit protested.

Rainkit added, “No, I do!”

Shaking her head, Sandstorm let out a mrrow of laughter. “Firestar will decide who your mentors will be,” she told the kits. “Now let him see you practice those defensive moves.”

Firestar watched while the kits scuffled together, pretending to attack and defend themselves. Even though they were excited, they managed to remember what Sandstorm had taught them, dodging expertly or dashing in to give their mock attacker a quick nip.

“They’re good,” Sandstorm commented quietly. “Especially that little Sorrelkit.” With a sidelong glance at Firestar, she added, “If you asked me to mentor her, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Just between you and me, she’s yours when the time comes,” Firestar promised, blinking gently at her.

Even though he and Sandstorm, the kits, and all the Clan were standing on the brink of disaster, Firestar still could not suppress a burst of pride and hope. Pressing his muzzle against Sandstorm’s side, he murmured, “We’ll win the battle. I have to believe that.”

Sandstorm did not reply in words, but the look she gave him said everything.