The Darkest Hour

Brightheart’s good eye brimmed with happiness and she was purring too hard to speak, but she blinked her gratitude at Firestar. She had carried the burden of Bluestar’s anger against StarClan for too long, and even if she could never become a full warrior, she had a name to be proud of now.

Firestar swallowed, his throat choked with emotion. It was moments like this that made being a leader worthwhile.

“Listen, Firestar,” meowed Cloudtail after a moment, “Brightheart and I are going to train together. We’re going to work on a fighting technique she can manage with just one eye and ear. When she’s able to fight again, can she lea v e the elders and come to live in the warriors’ den with the rest of us?”

“Well…” Firestar was uncertain. Brightheart could never be a full warrior because she couldn’t hunt alone, and she would be at a serious disadvantage in a fight. But it was hard to resist her determination; besides, Firestar wanted her to be able to defend herself and her Clan mates as best she could. “You haven’t got an apprentice yet, Cloudtail,” he agreed, “so you do have the time to spend with Brightheart.”

“Does that mean we can train together?” Cloudtail urged.

“Please, Firestar,” meowed Brightheart. “I want to be some use to the Clan.”

“All right,” Firestar agreed. With a sudden thought he added, “If you work out some new moves, we can teach them to the others. Brightheart isn’t the first warrior to be injured like this, and she won’t be the last.”

Cloudtail meowed agreement. The two young cats were moving away when Whitestorm, who had been Brightheart’s mentor, came up to congratulate her. To Firestar, he added, “I looked in on Sorrelkit just before the ceremony. She was starting to wake up. Cinderpelt thinks she’ll recover.”

“That’s great news!” Firestar purred. Whitestorm, he remembered, was Sorrelkit’s father. “Do you think she’s fit yet to tell us what happened?”

“You’ll have to ask Cinderpelt,” the white warrior replied. “Go now—I’ll see to the patrols.”

Firestar thanked him and hurried toward the medicine cat’s den.

Cinderpelt met him at the mouth of the fern tunnel. “I was coming to look for you,” she meowed. After hearing Whitestorm’s good news, Firestar was surprised to see the depth of anxiety in her eyes. “Sorrelkit is awake,” she went on. “She’s going to be fine. But you need to hear the story she has to tell.”

Chapter 10

Sorrelkit was curled up in a mossy nest near the entrance to Cinderpelt’s den. She raised her head as Firestar approached with the medicine cat, but her eyes were heavy and it looked as though she was finding it difficult to move.

Sandstorm was crouched close beside her on guard duty. “Poor little scrap,” she murmured to Firestar. “She nearly died. We’ve got to do something about Darkstripe.”

The pale ginger she-cat was looking as anxious as Cinderpelt; she would have heard Sorrelkit’s story too, Firestar realized. He nodded. “You can leave Darkstripe to me.” Settling down beside Sorrelkit, he mewed gently, “I’m glad to see you’re awake, Sorrelkit. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

The tiny tortoiseshell kit blinked up at him. “Sootkit and Rainkit were asleep in the nursery,” she began in a faint voice. “But I wasn’t sleepy. My mother wasn’t watching, so I went to play in the ravine. I wanted to catch a mouse. And then I saw Darkstripe.” Her voice shook and she hesitated.

“Go on,” Firestar encouraged her.

“He was coming up the ravine by himself. I knew he should have had Brackenfur with him, and I…I wondered where he was going. I followed him—I remembered the time he took Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw out of the camp, and I thought I might have an adventure like that, too.”

Firestar felt a pang of sadness as he remembered how Sorrelkit was always so bright and curious, getting into trouble because of her misguided courage. This limp scrap of fur didn’t look at all adventurous now, and Firestar could only hope that with Cinderpelt’s care she would soon be her lively self again.

“I followed him a long way,” Sorrelkit went on, sounding rather proud of herself. “I’d never been so far from the camp. I hid from Darkstripe too—he didn’t know I was there. And then he met another cat—a cat I’d never seen before.”

“What other cat? What did it look like? What scent did it have?” Firestar questioned her urgently.

Sorrelkit looked bewildered. “I didn’t recognize the scent,” she mewed. Her nose wrinkled. “But it was yucky. He was a big white cat—bigger than you, Firestar. And he had black paws.”

Firestar stared at her as he realized whom she had seen. “Blackfoot!” he exclaimed. “Tigerstar’s deputy. That was ShadowClan scent you smelled, Sorrelkit.”

“And what’s Darkstripe doing, meeting the ShadowClan deputy on our territory?” Sandstorm growled. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

“So what happened then?” Firestar prompted the kit.