The Darkest Hour

The warrior rose and shook himself. Firestar could see bare patches on his flank where Graystripe had clawed out lumps of fur.

“I was coming back to camp,” he began. “I found the stupid kit stuffing herself with death berries, and I was trying to stop her when this idiot jumped on me.” He stared resentfully at Graystripe. “Why would I want to murder a kit?”

“That’s what I want to know!” spat Graystripe.

“Of course, we know who the noble Firestar will believe!” Darkstripe sneered. “There’s no use expecting justice in ThunderClan these days.”

The accusation stung Firestar, all the more so because he recognized that there was a core of truth in it. He would take Graystripe’s word over Darkstripe’s any day, but he had to be absolutely certain that his friend wasn’t making a mistake.

“I don’t have to decide now,” Firestar meowed. “As soon as Sorrelkit wakes up, she’ll be able to tell us what happened.”

As he spoke he thought he saw a flicker of unease in Darkstripe’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly he could not be sure. The dark warrior twitched his ears contemptuously. “Fine,” he meowed. “Then you’ll see which of us is telling the truth.” He stalked off toward the camp entrance with tail held high.

“I did see it, Firestar,” Graystripe assured him, his sides heaving from the fight. “I can’t understand why he’d want to hurt Sorrelkit, but I’m quite sure that’s what he was doing.”

Firestar sighed. “I believe you, but we have to let every cat see that justice is done. I can’t punish Darkstripe until Sorrelkit tells us what happened.”

If she ever does, he added silently to himself. He watched Cinderpelt and Willowpelt gently picking up the kit and carrying her toward the gorse tunnel. Sorrelkit’s head lolled limply and her tail brushed the ground. Firestar’s belly clenched as he remembered the kit bouncing around the camp. If Darkstripe had really tried to kill her, he would pay.

“Graystripe,” he murmured, “go with Cinderpelt. I want you or another warrior on guard in her den until Sorrelkit wakes up. Ask Sandstorm and Goldenflower if they’ll help. I don’t want anything else to happen to Sorrelkit before she’s fit to talk.”

Graystripe’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “Okay, Firestar,” he meowed. “I’m on my way.” He bounded down the slope and caught up with the other cats as they disappeared into the tunnel.

Firestar was left in the ravine with Bramblepaw. “I’ve left a squirrel up there,” he meowed to his apprentice, jerking his head toward the top of the ravine. “Could you collect it for me, p l ease? And then you can rest and eat. You’ve had a long day.”

“Thanks,” Bramblepaw mewed. He took a few steps up the ravine and glanced back. “Sorrelkit will be okay, won’t she?”

Firestar let out a long breath. “I don’t know, Bramblepaw,” he admitted. “I just don’t know.”

Chapter 9

Firestar made his way thoughtfully back into the camp. Glancing around, he caught sight of Darkstripe gulping down a piece of fresh-kill beside the nettle patch. Mousefur, Goldenflower, and Frostfur were eating close by, but Firestar noticed that they had all turned their backs on Darkstripe and were not looking at him.

Graystripe must have already begun to spread the news of what had happened in the ravine. Frostfur and Goldenflower in particular, who had both raised kits of their own, would be horrified by the very suspicion that a Clan warrior would murder a kit. It was a good sign, Firestar realized, if they seemed to believe Graystripe’s version of events. It showed that his friend was becoming accepted by the Clan again, beginning to recover the popularity he had once had.

Firestar was heading toward Graystripe when movement by the warriors’ den caught his eye. Brackenfur was just emerging from between the branches, gazing wildly around. He spotted Darkstripe, took a step toward him, and then veered away to join Firestar.

“I’ve just heard!” he gasped. “Firestar, I’m sorry. He got away from me. This is all my fault!”

“Steady.” Firestar let his tail rest a moment on the agitated young warrior’s shoulder, gesturing for calm. “Tell me what happened.”

Brackenfur took a couple of gulping breaths, struggling for self-control. “Darkstripe said he was going out to hunt,” he began. “I went with him, but when we got into the forest he said he had to make dirt. He went behind a bush and I waited for him. He was taking a long time, so I went to look—and he’d gone!” His eyes stretched wide with dismay. “If Sorrelkit dies, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Sorrelkit won’t die,” Firestar reassured him, though he was not certain that it was the truth. The kit was still very ill.

And now there was something else to worry about. Brackenfur’s story showed that Darkstripe had realized he was being watched. He had gotten rid of his guard very neatly. He must have had a reason, Firestar reflected. What had the dark tabby meant to do, and why had he tried to kill Sorrelkit?