The Darkest Hour (Warriors 2)

“The worst,” Cinderpelt meowed steadily. “Bluestar died yesterday.”

All three WindClan cats bowed their heads; even Mudclaw looked solemn. “She was a great and noble cat,” Tornear meowed at last. “Every Clan will honor her memory.”

Raising his head again, he turned to Fireheart with a look of curiosity and respect in his eyes. “So you’re to be leader now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Fireheart admitted. “I’m going to receive my nine lives from StarClan.”

Tornear nodded, his gaze traveling slowly over the warrior’s flame-colored pelt. “You’re young,” he commented. “But something tells me you’ll make a fine leader.”

“Th-thank you,” Fireheart stammered, taken by surprise.

Cinderpelt rescued him. “We mustn’t stay,” she meowed. “It’s a long way to Highstones.”

“Of course.” Tornear stepped back. “We’ll tell Tallstar your news. May StarClan be with you!” he called as the two ThunderClan cats bounded away.

On the edge of the uplands they paused again and looked down over a very different landscape. Instead of bare hillside broken by outcrops of rock and patches of heather, Fireheart saw a scattering of Twoleg nests among fields and hedgerows. In the distance the Thunderpath cut a swath across the land, while beyond that jagged hills reared up, their barren slopes looking gray and threatening. Fireheart swallowed; that desolate region was where they were heading.

He realized that Cinderpelt was looking at him with understanding in her blue eyes.

“Everything’s different,” Fireheart confessed. “You saw those WindClan cats. Even they don’t treat me in the same way anymore.” He knew he could never say these things to anyone except the medicine cat—not even to Sandstorm. “It’s as if every cat expects me to be noble and wise. But I’m not. I’ll make mistakes, just like I did before. Cinderpelt, I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Mouse-brain.” Fireheart was both shocked and comforted by the teasing note in Cinderpelt’s voice. “When you make mistakes—not if, Fireheart, when—I’ll tell you about them, believe me.” More seriously, she added, “And I’ll still be your friend, no matter what. No cat that ever lived was perfect all the time. Bluestar wasn’t! The trick is to learn from your mistakes, and have the courage to be true to your heart.” She turned her head and rasped her tongue over his ear. “You’ll be fine, Fireheart. Now let’s go.”

Fireheart let her take the lead down the slope and across the Twoleg farmland. The two cats picked their way over the sticky earth of a plowed field and skirted the Twoleg nest where the two loners, Barley and Ravenpaw, lived. Fireheart kept a lookout, but there was no sign of them. He was sorry not to see them, for both cats were good friends to ThunderClan, and Ravenpaw had once trained alongside Fireheart as an apprentice. The distant barking of a dog sent shivers through Fireheart’s fur as he remembered the horror of being chased by the pack.

Keeping to the shadows of the hedges, they eventually reached the Thunderpath and crouched beside it, their fur ruffled by the wind of monsters racing past them. The strong reek of their fumes flooded Fireheart’s nose and throat, and his eyes stung.

Cinderpelt braced herself beside him, waiting for a space b e t w e en the monsters when it would be safe to cross. Fireheart felt anxious for his friend. Her leg had been permanently injured in an accident at the edge of the Thunderpath many moons ago, when she had been his apprentice; the old injury would slow her down.

“We’ll go together,” he meowed, feeling the familiar guilt that he had not prevented her accident. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Cinderpelt gave a tiny nod; Fireheart guessed she was afraid, but she wouldn’t admit it. A moment later, after a brightly colored monster flashed past, she mewed, “Now!” and limped rapidly out onto the hard black surface.

Fireheart bounded at her side, forcing himself not to leave her behind even though his heart was hammering and every instinct screamed at him to run across as quickly as he could. He heard the roar of a monster in the distance, but before it arrived he and the medicine cat were safe in the hedgerow on the other side.

The medicine cat let out a gusty sigh. “Thank StarClan that’s over!”

Fireheart murmured agreement, though he knew they still had to face the return journey.

Already the sun was sliding down the sky. The land on this side of the Thunderpath was less familiar to Fireheart, and every sense was alert for danger as they began to climb toward Highstones. But all he could hear was prey scuffling in the scanty grass; the tempting scent flooded his mouth, and he wished he were allowed to stop and hunt.

As Fireheart and Cinderpelt reached the foot of the final slope, the sun was setting behind the peak. The evening shadows were lengthening and a chill crept over the ground. Above his head, Fireheart could make out a square opening beneath an overhang of stone.

“We’ve reached Mother mouth,” Cinderpelt meowed. “Let’s rest for a moment.”

She and Fireheart lay down together on a flat rock while the last of the light died from the sky and the stars of Silverpelt began to appear. The moon flooded all the landscape in a cold, frosty light.

“It’s time,” mewed Cinderpelt.

All his misgivings coursed through Fireheart once again, and at first he thought his paws would not carry him. But he rose and began walking forward, the sharp stones biting into his pads, until he stood beneath the arch known to the Clans as Mothermouth.

A black tunnel yawned into darkness. From his previous visit Fireheart knew that there was no point in straining his eyes to see what lay ahead; the blackness was unbroken all the way to the cavern where the Moonstone lay. As he hesitated, Cinderpelt stepped forward confidently.

“Follow my scent,” she told him. “I will lead you to the Moonstone. And from now on, until the ritual is over, neither of us must speak.”

“But I don’t know what to do,” Fireheart protested.

“W h en we reach the Moonstone, lie down and press your nose to it.” Her blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “StarClan will send you sleep so you may meet with them in dream s.”

There was a forest full of questions that Fireheart wanted to ask her, but none whose answers would help him overcome the creeping dread he felt. He bowed his head in silence and followed Cinderpelt as she made her way into the darkness.

The tunnel sloped steadily downward, and Fireheart soon lost his sense of direction as it wound back and forth. Sometimes the walls were so close together that his fur and whiskers brushed the sides. His heart thumped wildly and he opened his mouth to draw in Cinderpelt’s comforting scent, terrified at the thought that he might lose her.

At last he realized that he could see Cinderpelt’s ears outlined against a faint light ahead. Other scents began to reach him, and his whiskers twitched in a flow of cold, fresh air. A heartbeat later he rounded a bend in the tunnel and the light grew suddenly stronger. Fireheart narrowed his eyes as he padded forward, sensing that the tunnel had opened out into a cave.

High above his head, a hole in the roof showed a chink of night sky. A shaft of moonlight shone through it, falling directly onto a rock in the center of the cavern. Fireheart drew in his breath sharply. He had seen the Moonstone once before, but he had forgotten just how startling it was. About three tail-lengths high, tapering toward its top, it reflected the moonlight in its dazzling crystal as if a star had fallen to the earth. The white light lit up the whole cave, turning Cinderpelt’s gray fur to silver.

She turned toward Fireheart and signaled to him with her tail to take

his place beside the Moonstone.

Unable to speak, even if he could think of anything to say, Fireheart obeyed. He lay down in front of the stone, settling his head on his paws so that his nose touched the smooth surface. The cold was a shock, so that he almost drew back, and for a moment he blinked at the light of stars sparkling in the depths of the stone.

Then he closed his eyes, and waited for StarClan to send him to sleep.

CHAPTER 4

All was darkness and cold. Fireheart had never been so cold. He felt as if every scrap of warmth and life were being sucked out of his body. His legs twitched as painful cramps clutched at them. He imagined that he was made of ice, and if he tried to move he would shatter into a thousand brittle fragments.

But no dreams came. No sight or sound of StarClan. Only the cold and the darkness. Something must be wrong, Fireheart thought, beginning to panic.

He dared to open his eyes a narrow slit. At once they flew wide with shock. Instead of the shining Moonstone in a cavern far below the ground, he saw short, well-trodden grass stretching away. Night scents flooded over him, of green, growing things moist with dew. A warm breeze ruffled his fur.

Scrambling into a sitting position, Fireheart realized he was in the hollow at Fourtrees, near the base of the Great Rock. The towering oaks, in full leaf, rustled over his head, and Silverpelt glittered beyond them in the night sky.

How did I come here? he wondered. Is this the dream that Cinderpelt promised?

He raised his head and looked up at the sky. He could not remember its being so clear; Silverpelt looked closer than he had ever seen before, scarcely higher than the topmost branches of the oaks. As Fireheart gazed at it, he realized something that sent the blood thrilling through his veins like liquid fire.