The Darkest Hour

Firestar wanted to be fair, so that no cat, not even Darkstripe himself, could accuse him of persecuting Tigerstar’s former allies. Even more than that, Firestar was still afraid of what Darkstripe might do if he left ThunderClan and was free to go to Tigerstar. But he was left with no choice. Exile was the only possible sentence for a cat guilty of Darkstripe’s crimes.

“You could have been a valuable warrior,” he went on to Darkstripe. “I gave you one chance after another to prove yourself. I wanted to trust you, and—”

“Trust me?” Darkstripe interrupted. “You’ve never trusted me. Do you think I didn’t know you told that ginger fool to watch me?” He spat the last words toward Brackenfur, still seated beside him. “Did you expect me to live the rest of my days with a shadow?”

“No. I was waiting for you to show your loyalty.” Firestar crouched on the rock and held Darkstripe’s furious gaze without flinching. “This is the Clan where you were born; these are the cats you grew up with. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? The warrior code says you should protect them with your life!”

As Darkstripe rose to his paws Firestar thought he could see fear flickering in his eyes, as if the dark warrior had never intended to make a final break with ThunderClan. He could not be sure, after all, that Tigerstar would welcome him; he had refused to follow the former deputy into exile, and he had failed in his attempt to take Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw to their father before the attack from the dogs. Tigerstar was not a cat who forgave easily.

But there was no trace of fear or regret in Darkstripe’s voice as he spoke. “This is not my Clan,” he hissed scornfully, to gasps of shock from the warriors around him. “Not any longer. ThunderClan is led by a kittypet, and there’s nothing left to fight for. I feel no loyalty to ThunderClan. In the whole forest, the only cat worth following is Tigerstar.”

“Then follow him,” Firestar retorted. “You are no longer a warrior of ThunderClan. If you are found in our territory after sunset today, we shall treat you as we would any enemy. Go now.”

Darkstripe’s burning gaze held Firestar’s for a moment longer, but he did not reply. Unhurriedly, he turned his back on Firestar and stalked toward the camp entrance. The cats nearby drew back as he passed them.

“You know what will be waiting for you if you try to come back,” Cloudtail snarled, curling his lip. Willowpelt said nothing, but spat, her fur bristling.

As soon as the tip of Darkstripe’s tail had vanished into the tunnel, a murmur of speculation broke out among the crowd of cats. One voice rose up clearly. “Has Darkstripe gone to ShadowClan?” asked Tawnypaw.

She had not joined in the Clan’s protests when Firestar had tried to force Darkstripe to admit his guilt. Instead she had watched everything in silent fascination, her eyes following the dark warrior every pawstep of the way to the tunnel. She looked shocked and sickened, but there was something else in her expression that Firestar could not read.

He froze as she asked her question. This apprentice knew that her father was the leader of ShadowClan. Did she understand the full extent of Darkstripe’s treachery?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Darkstripe can go where he likes. From now on he is not a member of ThunderClan.”

“Does that mean we can chase him out of the territory if we see him?” Whitestorm called.

“Yes, it does,” Firestar replied. Addressing all the cats, he added, “If you scent him, or any ShadowClan cats, tell me or Whitestorm. And that reminds me—this morning Thornclaw scented rogue cats on our territory. Keep a lookout for them, too, and report anything you find.”

Giving the orders helped him calm down. He could not help feeling the first creeping sensations of relief that at last he had Darkstripe out of his fur. There would be no more kittypet taunts, no more worries about whether all the Clan’s business was being relayed straight to Tigerstar. Even though Firestar was worried about what Darkstripe would do now, there was more gain than loss in the dark warrior’s departure. Yet still Firestar could not help wishing that he could have earned his loyalty.

“Hey, Firestar!” Dustpelt’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “What about Fernpaw? She hasn’t got a mentor now.”

“Thanks, Dustpelt, I’ll deal with that right away. Fernpaw, come up to the rock.”

Fernpaw obeyed, leaving Dustpelt’s side to step delicately around the cats in her way until she stood at the foot of the Highrock.

Firestar glanced around to make sure the warrior he wanted was present, and hastily summoned the right words. “Longtail, you are without an apprentice since Swiftpaw died. You were an excellent mentor to him, and I expect you to pass on your skills to Fernpaw for the rest of her apprenticeship.”