The Darkest Hour

Longtail sprang to his paws, his eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. Firestar beckoned him with his tail, hoping that with Darkstripe gone the last of the hostility between himself and Longtail could be buried. The pale tabby warrior could easily be a fine member of the Clan.

Still looking stunned, Longtail padded up to Fernpaw and touched noses with her. Fernpaw dipped her head and both cats withdrew to where Dustpelt and Ashpaw were sitting.

Firestar leaped down from the Highrock. Now that everything was over exhaustion hit him like a blow from a badger’s paw. What he wanted more than anything was to curl up with his friends in the warriors’ den, to share tongues and sleep. But as leader of the Clan, he couldn’t do that.

Darkstripe’s treachery and the knowledge that ShadowClan cats were on his territory had revived all the memories of his nine-lives ceremony. Why had the hill of bones appeared in his dream, and the river of blood that had flowed from it? What did Bluestar’s prophecy mean?

Desperate for answers, Firestar decided he would go to Cinderpelt’s den to see if the medicine cat had received any guidance from StarClan.

To his relief, Sandstorm was no longer on guard; he did not want the ginger she-cat to see him like this. Sorrelkit was asleep in her nest, and from the mouth of the split rock came faint sounds of Cinderpelt moving around inside. Firestar went closer and saw her rearranging the piles of healing herbs and berries that she kept there.

“Nearly out of juniper…” she muttered, then saw Firestar. “What’s the matter? What’s happened now?”

She limped out of the den and came up to him, nosing him anxiously as she smelled his fear-scent. “Firestar, what’s w r o n g?”

Firestar shook his head to clear it of apprehension. It was a relief to go right back to the beginning, and tell Cinderpelt about the dream that had come to him as he lay beside the Moonstone.

Cinderpelt sat beside him and listened in silence, her steady gaze never leaving his face.

“Bluestar told me, ‘Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest,’” Firestar finished. “And then blood oozed out of the hill of bones and started to fill the hollow. Blood everywhere…Cinderpelt, what does it all mean?”

“I don’t know,” Cinderpelt confessed. “StarClan have not shown me any of this. Just as they have the power to show me what will happen, so they can choose not to share with me. I’m sorry, Firestar—but I’ll keep thinking about it, and maybe something will happen to make it clearer soon.”

She pushed her nose against Firestar’s fur to comfort him, but though Firestar was grateful for her sympathy, he could not forget the horror of his dream. What dreadful fate lay in store for him? And if even Cinderpelt could not answer that question, what hope was there for ThunderClan?

Chapter 11

Firestar emerged from the forest near Sunningrocks and paused to taste the air. The sun was rising behind him, sending long shadows from the forest toward the river. Several days had passed since Darkstripe had left ThunderClan, and so far the patrols had not brought any news of him, nor of ShadowClan cats in the territory. But the memory of Firestar’s dream was still too sharp for him to believe that the threat from the territory beyond the Thunderpath was over.

Graystripe and Thornclaw padded out of the trees behind him. “Smell anything?” Graystripe asked.

Firestar shrugged. “Only RiverClan cats. No more than I’d expect, this close to the border. But I want to make sure that they haven’t been near Sunningrocks.”

“We’ll renew the scent markings,” meowed Graystripe. “Come on, Thornclaw.”

While his friends disappeared into the gullies among the rocks, Firestar remained where he was, carefully drawing the air over his scent glands. Though he was worried about ShadowClan, he had not forgotten RiverClan or their ambitious leader, Leopardstar. She had tried to retake Sunning-rocks not long before, and Firestar would not be surprised if she decided to try again.

Not many moments passed before he detected fresh RiverClan scent. Instantly suspicious, he padded around the base of the rocks, only to relax a few moments later as he caught sight of Mistyfoot. She was alone, crouched at the very edge of the river, and as Firestar watched she scooped a fish out of the water and killed it with one blow of her paw.

“Well done!” Firestar called.

Mistyfoot turned, saw him, and padded up the gently sloping bank as far as the border. Firestar went to meet her there, glad to see that she still looked friendly in spite of the way she had left the ThunderClan camp. But he noticed with alarm that Mistyfoot was much thinner than when he had last seen her, and he wondered if something bad had happened following the revelation that Bluestar had been her mother.

“How are you, Mistyfoot?” he meowed. “I hope there hasn’t been any trouble.”