Dawn

“Not bad for a kittypet, that one,” Mousefur added with a twitch of her tail. “She looked so nervous when she arrived I didn’t think she’d settle in. But it looks like she’ll be okay here—for a while, anyway.”

Leafpaw blinked gratefully at the dusky brown cat, then turned to Cinderpelt again. There was something she had to ask, even though she dreaded hearing the answer. “Will Ferncloud lose her other kit?”

“Birchkit is strong enough for now,” Cinderpelt reassured her. “And with only one mouth to feed, Ferncloud should be able to give him more milk.”

“He won’t last the winter if we stay here, though,” Mousefur commented. Her eyes betrayed alarm as she saw Dustpelt padding toward her. “I hope he didn’t hear that,” she whispered. “He’s mourned enough today.”

“I did hear, Mousefur,” Dustpelt meowed wearily. “And I agree. We must leave the forest.”

Leafpaw stared at him in shock. Hollykit’s death seemed to have crushed the last morsel of strength in him.

Duspelt raised his voice so that his deep meow rang around the rock. All the other cats stared at him in astonishment.

“We must leave the forest as soon as we can!” he insisted, his eyes blazing. He swung his head around to look at Brambleclaw. “Your message from StarClan is the only sign of hope we’ve had,” he meowed.

Mousefur stood up. “Before we can leave, we’ll need a new deputy.”

As she spoke, Firestar appeared from the edge of the forest, carrying a scrawny blackbird. He had clearly heard her words. His eyes glittered as he dropped the blackbird onto the fresh-kill pile and strode up the slope. “ThunderClan has a deputy. When Graystripe returns, he won’t find another cat in his place.” He turned to face Dustpelt. “I’m glad you agree we must leave,” he meowed. “But we cannot leave yet, not without the other Clans.”

“I have only one kit left,” Dustpelt meowed. “He will die if we stay. We will probably all die.”

“Then we must try harder to persuade the other Clans to leave,” Firestar growled.

“The other Clans can come when they are ready,” Dustpelt retorted. “We are ready now.”

Firestar returned the warrior’s gaze. “We cannot leave yet,” he repeated.

“Ferncloud still needs to rest,” Cinderpelt put in quietly.

Firestar acknowledged her support with a brief nod.

Brambleclaw faced Dustpelt. “I know you are mourning two kits,” he mewed. “And that you fear for the other. But Firestar is right. StarClan would not want us to leave without the other Clans.” He turned to the other cats. “StarClan chose a cat from each Clan to carry Midnight’s message back. We had to work together to survive, without ever thinking of the differences between our Clans. StarClan wanted us to share the journey, to learn how to help one another. They must want us to travel together now.”

Firestar padded across the rock to stand beside the young warrior. “We need to send out more hunting patrols,” he meowed. “We are under no threat from the other Clans now.

RiverClan have more food than we do. They have no need to attack.” He stared around at the gaunt, hungry cats. “We can devote all our patrols to hunting from now on. We will find enough food in the forest until it is time to leave. Yes, Dustpelt, we will leave. I will visit RiverClan and ShadowClan and try to persuade them once more.”

Relief washed over Leafpaw as the cats began to nod their acceptance. Then her heart lurched again as Mousefur stepped forward.

“But what about Graystripe?” When Firestar flinched, she went on: “Whether he’s coming back or not, we need to find another deputy for as long as he’s not here, someone to carry out his duties.”

“Yes,” Dustpelt agreed. “You haven’t named anyone yet.”

He glanced at Brambleclaw. “You should choose someone young. Some cat StarClan clearly approves of.”

Leafpaw looked around. Ashfur, Whitepaw, Frostfur, and Cloudtail were staring at Brambleclaw. Even Thornclaw seemed to be watching the young cat, as though he might be the one to fill Graystripe’s pawprints. Only Mousefur and Rainwhisker were looking elsewhere.

“Brackenfur has enough experience,” Mousefur suggested.

“He is young and strong and has earned his warrior name many times over.”

Rainwhisker nodded. “Brackenfur would be a good deputy.”

“Why are you talking like this? Graystripe is not dead!”

Firestar spat. “He is still our deputy.” The bristling fur along his spine warned the other cats not to argue. He shook himself and blinked, calming down. “But you are right. Someone must carry out Graystripe’s duties. So until he returns, the senior warriors shall share them.” He glanced at Brackenfur.

“You shall organize the new hunting patrols. Sandstorm can organize work within the camp. Brambleclaw, you can help me try to convince ShadowClan and RiverClan that we must leave the forest together.” He stalked toward the overhang, and as he passed Leafpaw he called to her, “I want to speak to you,” he meowed. “Alone.”