The Darkest Hour

Fireheart muttered in vague agreement. Glancing around, he spotted Whitestorm on his way to the warriors’ den and summoned the older warrior with a flick of his tail.

“I’ve got to go to Highstones,” he meowed. “Will you take charge of the camp? We’ll need a dawn patrol.”

“Consider it done,” promised Whitestorm, and added, “StarClan go with you, Fireheart.”

Fireheart took a last look around the camp as he followed Cinderpelt toward the gorse tunnel. He felt as if he were going on a long journey, farther than he had ever traveled before, where the prospect of return looked doubtful. And in a way he never would return, for the cat who came back would have a new name, new responsibilities, and a new relationship with StarClan.

As he turned away, a yowl sounded behind him. Graystripe and Sandstorm were racing across the clearing.

“You weren’t sneaking off without saying good-bye?” Graystripe panted, skidding to a halt.

Sandstorm said nothing, but she twined her tail with Fireheart’s and pressed close to his side.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Fireheart meowed. “Listen,” he added awkwardly, “I know things will be different now, but I’ll never stop needing you—both of you. No cat ever had such good friends.”

Graystripe butted him in the shoulder. “We know that, you stupid furball,” he mewed.

Sandstorm’s green eyes shone as she gazed into Fireheart’s. “We’ll always need you too, Fireheart,” she murmured. “And you’d better not forget that.”

“Fireheart, come on!” Cinderpelt called from where she was waiting at the entrance to the gorse tunnel. “We have to reach Highstones by nightfall—and remember I can’t move as fast as you.”

“Coming!” Fireheart gave each of his friends a quick lick before plunging into the gorse tunnel after the medicine cat. His heart felt full of hope as he caught up to her and made his way to the top of the ravine. He might have been leaving his old life behind, but he could take with him everything that was important.

The sun was up in a clear blue sky and the frost had melted from the grass by the time the two cats reached Fourtrees, where the Gatherings were held between all four Clans every full moon.

“I hope we don’t meet a WindClan patrol,” Fireheart remarked as they crossed the border onto the high, exposed moorland, leaving the shelter of the forest behind them.

Not long before, Bluestar had tried to launch an attack on WindClan, accusing them of stealing prey from ThunderClan. Fireheart had disobeyed his leader and risked accusations of treachery to avoid a battle. Although Tallstar, the WindClan leader, had been prepared to make peace, Fireheart could imagine that the WindClan cats might still bear a grudge.

“They won’t stop us,” Cinderpelt replied calmly.

“They might try,” Fireheart argued. “I’d rather avoid them altogether.”

His hopes were dashed as he and Cinderpelt reached the crest of a stretch of moorland and saw a WindClan patrol picking their way through the heather a few foxlengths below. They were downwind, so Fireheart had not detected their scent as a warning.

The leader of the patrol raised his head, and Fireheart recognized the warrior Tornear. His heart sank when he saw that his old enemy Mudclaw was just behind him, with an apprentice Fireheart didn’t know. He and Cinderpelt waited as the WindClan cats bounded through the heather toward them; there was no point in trying to avoid them now.

Mudclaw curled his lip in a snarl, but Torn ear dipped his head as he halted in front of Fireheart. “Greetings, Fireheart, Cinderpelt,” he meowed. “Why are you here on our territory?”

“We’re on our way to Highstones,” Cinderpelt replied, taking a step forward.

Fireheart felt a surge of pride to see the respectful nod the WindClan warrior gave to his medicine cat.

“No bad news, I hope?” Tornear asked; cats did not usually travel to Highstones unless a crisis in their Clan demanded direct communication with StarClan.

“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.