The Darkest Hour

“With any luck, he won’t know about it. Don’t make it too obvious, and ask one or two of the others to help you…Mousefur, maybe, and Frostfur.” Seeing that Brackenfur was still doubtful, Fireheart added, “Darkstripe may not have known about the dogs, but he knew that Tigerstar was planning something. We can’t trust him.”

“I can see that,” Brackenfur meowed, his eyes troubled. “But we can’t watch him forever.”

“It won’t be forever,” Fireheart assured him. “Just until Darkstripe proves where his loyalties lie—one way or the other.”

Brackenfur nodded, then slipped silently into the warriors’ den. With no more problems clamoring for his attention, Fireheart was able to cross the clearing to Bluestar’s body. Cinderpelt still sat near her head and Whitestorm was crouched beside her, his head bowed in grief.

Fireheart dipped his head to the medicine cat. He settled himself beside Bluestar, searching her face for signs of the leader he had loved so much. But her eyes were closed, never again to burn with the fire that had commanded respect from all the Clans. Her spirit had gone to race joyously through the sky with her warrior ancestors’, keeping watch over the forest.

He felt the soft caress of his leader’s fur and felt a sense of security flood over him, almost as if he were a kit again, curling up close to his mother. For a moment he could almost forget the horror of her dying and the loneliness of his new responsibilities.

Receive her with honor, Fireheart prayed silently to StarClan, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to Bluestar’s fur. And help me keep her Clan safe.

Chapter 3

Something was prodding Fireheart in the side. With a muffled mew of protest he opened his eyes to see Cinderpelt stooping over him.

“You dozed off,” she murmured. “But you’ll have to wake up now. It’s time to bury Bluestar.”

Fireheart staggered to his paws. He flexed each stiff leg in turn and passed his dry tongue over his lips. He felt as if he had been crouching in the clearing for a moon at least. The sense of comfort he had felt as he slept was replaced by a wave of guilt.

“Did any cat see?” he muttered to Cinderpelt.

The medicine cat’s blue eyes glimmered with sympathy. “Only me. Don’t worry about it, Fireheart. No cat would blame you after what happened yesterday.”

Fireheart glanced around the clearing. The pale light of dawn was just beginning to seep through the trees. A few tail-lengths away the elders had assembled to carry out their duty of bearing Bluestar’s body to the burial place. The rest of the Clan were slowly emerging from their dens, forming two lines between Bluestar’s body and the entrance to the gorse tunnel.

At a nod from Cinderpelt, the elders took up the body and carried Bluestar between the rows of her grieving warriors. Every cat bowed his head as their leader was borne past.

“Good-bye, Bluestar,” Fireheart murmured. “I’ll never forget you.” Sharp thorns of pain pierced his heart when he saw the tip of her tail scoring a furrow in the blackened leaves that still lay on the ground after the recent fire.

When Bluestar had vanished with her escort, the rest of the cats began to disperse. Fireheart checked the camp, noticing with approval that the pile of fresh-kill had been stocked up. All he needed to do was send out the dawn patrol; then he could eat and rest. He felt as if a moon of sleep would not be enough to banish the exhaustion from his paws.

“Well, Fireheart,” meowed Cinderpelt. “Are you ready?”

Fireheart turned, puzzled. “Ready?”

“To go to the Moonstone to receive your nine lives from StarClan.” The tip of Cinderpelt’s tail twitched. “Fireheart, surely you hadn’t forgotten?”

Fireheart shuffled his paws uneasily. Of course he hadn’t forgotten the ancient ceremony to initiate all new Clan leaders, but somehow he hadn’t realized that it would take place right away. He felt dazed by the speed with which everything was happening, bearing him forward relentlessly like the swift waters of the gorge that had almost drowned him.

Fear rose in his throat and he had to swallow quickly. No leader ever spoke of the mystic rite, so no other cat, except for the medicine cats, knew what happened there. Fireheart had visited the Moonstone before and watched Bluestar share tongues with StarClan in her sleep. That experience had been awe-inspiring enough. He could not imagine what would happen when he had to lie beside the sacred stone himself and share dreams with his warrior ancestors.

On top of this, he knew that Highstones, where the Moonstone lay in a cavern far underground, was a whole day’s journey away, and the ritual demanded that he not eat beforehand, not even the strengthening herbs that other cats took for the journey.

“StarClan will give you strength,” meowed Cinderpelt, as if she had read his thoughts.