The Darkest Hour

Firestar nodded. He hesitated, then confessed, “But I don’t know how I’m going to do anything without Bluestar. Everything seems dark and…and overwhelming.” He said nothing about the interruption of his leadership ritual, or the horror of his dream, but he saw from the sympathetic look in Cinderpelt’s eyes that she knew what he was thinking.

“Remember the whole Clan is behind you,” she mewed. “No cat will ever forget that you and Bluestar saved us from the pack.”

“Maybe they expect too much of me.”

“Nonsense!” Cinderpelt’s tone was bracing. “They know you’re going to be a great leader, and they’ll all stand by you to the last breath.”

“So will I,” Ravenpaw offered, startling Firestar. The sleek black tom looked slightly embarrassed as Firestar turned to look at him, but he went on: “I know I’m not a warrior, but if you want my help you have only to ask.”

Firestar blinked his gratitude. “Thank you, Ravenpaw.”

“May I come to the camp soon?” Ravenpaw asked. “I’d like to pay my last respects to Bluestar at her burial place.”

“Yes, of course,” Firestar replied. “Bluestar gave you the right to go where you like on ThunderClan territory. There’s no reason to change that now.”

Ravenpaw dipped his head. “Thank you.” As he looked up again, Firestar saw a glow of respect in his eyes. “You saved my life once, Firestar. I’ll never be able to repay you for that. But if trouble with Tigerstar comes, I’ll be proud to stand with the warriors of ThunderClan and fight him to the death.”

Chapter 6

Twilight was thickening the shadows under the trees by the time Firestar and Cinderpelt slipped down the ravine toward the camp entrance. They had slept in the barn with Barley and Ravenpaw until the sun was well above the horizon, and feasted again on plump mice before they set off for their own territory. Though Firestar was tired, some of the horror of his dream was fading, and he was looking forward to seeing his Clan mates again.

At first the new leader emerged unnoticed from the gorse tunnel with Cinderpelt. Whitestorm and Brackenfur were sitting together near the nettle patch, finishing off some fresh-kill, while three of the apprentices wrestled playfully outside their den. Firestar picked out the dark tabby pelt of his own apprentice, Bramblepaw, and reminded himself to get him back onto a strict training schedule as soon as he could. There was no reason why leadership duties should prevent him from mentoring the young cat—after all, Bluestar had been a diligent mentor to him.

He was padding over to Whitestorm when he heard his name yowled loudly, and turned to see Ashpaw racing across the clearing from the elders’ den. The apprentice’s gray fur was bristling with excitement. “Fireheart—no, Firestar! You’re back!”

His noisy greeting alerted the rest of the Clan and soon they were pressing around Firestar, calling him by his new name and welcoming him home. Firestar wanted to give himself up to the uncomplicated enjoyment of their warm fur pressed against his, but he could not ignore the awe in their eyes as they gazed at him. He felt a sharp pang in his heart as he was reminded yet again of the new distance between himself and the rest of his Clan.

“Did you really see StarClan?” asked Fernpaw, her eyes wide.

“I really did,” Firestar replied. “But I’m not allowed to say anything about the ceremony.”

Fernpaw didn’t look disappointed. Her eyes brimming with admiration, she turned to Dustpelt and meowed, “I bet he’s going to be a great leader!”

“He’d better be,” replied Dustpelt; his love for Fernpaw wouldn’t let him argue with her, even though Firestar was well aware that he had never been Dustpelt’s favorite cat. But the brown-coated warrior gave him a nod of respect, and Firestar knew that Dustpelt’s loyalty to the warrior code would en sure his support.

“It’s good to see you back,” meowed Graystripe, shouldering through the warriors to reach Firestar’s side. At least he seemed to have recovered from the awe he’d felt when Bluestar had named Firestar leader as she lay dying. No w his yellow eyes were filled with friendship and sympathy. “You look like a fox that’s been dead for a moon. Was it tough?”

“It was,” Firestar murmured, just for Graystripe’s ears, but Cloudtail caught what he had said.

“It’s only your belief in ancient traditions that makes you think you can’t be leader without dragging all the way up to Highstones and back. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already proved yourself to be the true leader of this Clan, Firestar.”

Firestar gave his kin a hard stare; he was grateful for Cloudtail’s loyalty and respect, but felt as frustrated as ever that the younger cat did not share his beliefs. He wished he could tell the white warrior exactly what he had experienced, if only to shock him into respect for StarClan, but he knew that was impossible.