The Darkest Hour

Then he sat bolt upright, fur bristling and ears pricked. Something had just occurred to him, and he couldn’t think why he hadn’t thought of it before. Maybe ThunderClan wasn’t as outnumbered as he feared. Across the river were the warriors of two Clans, and with Tigerstar dead none of them had any reason to support BloodClan.

“Mouse-brain!” he murmured aloud. There was a chance that all four forest Clans could join together to drive out the lethal cats that threatened every pawstep of their lives. Four would not become two—four would become one, but not in the way that Tigerstar had intended.

As the first glittering rays of the sun appeared above the horizon, Firestar leaped down from the rock and raced downstream toward the stepping-stones.

“Firestar! Firestar!” The yowl brought him up short just as he came in sight of the stones. He turned to see a ThunderClan patrol emerge from the trees behind him. Graystripe was in the lead, followed by Sandstorm, Cloudtail, and Bramblepaw.

“Where have you been?” Sandstorm mewed crossly as she picked her way toward him. “We’ve been worried sick.”

“Sorry.” Firestar gave her ear an apologetic lick. “I needed to think a few things out, that’s all.”

“Whitestorm said you would be okay,” Graystripe meowed. “And Cinderpelt didn’t seem worried. I got the feeling she knew more than she was telling.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Firestar mewed briskly. “And I’m glad I’ve met you. I’m going over into RiverClan territory, and it’ll look better if I take some warriors with me.”

“RiverClan?” Cloudtail looked amazed. “What do you want with them?”

“I’m going to ask them to fight with us against Scourge tomorrow.”

The young warrior stared. “Are you out of your mind? Leopardstar will rip your fur off!”

“I don’t think she will. Now that Tigerstar’s dead, she won’t want BloodClan in the forest any more than we do.”

Cloudtail shrugged, and Graystripe was looking uncertain too, but Sandstorm’s green eyes glowed with delight.

“I knew you would think of a way to defeat BloodClan,” she purred. “Let’s go.”

Firestar turned to lead the way to the stepping-stones, but paused as Bramblepaw padded up to him.

“Firestar, can we talk to Tawnypaw if she’s there?” his apprentice asked hopefully. His voice quavered. “There might not be another chance.”

Firestar hesitated. “Yes, if you see her,” he meowed. “Get her side of the story. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

“Thanks, Firestar!” Bramblepaw’s eyes shone with relief.

Firestar slipped down the bank to the stepping-stones with his warriors behind him. As he led the way across he kept alert for movement on the opposite side of the river, but he saw nothing. There had not even been a RiverClan patrol, though by now the sun was well above the horizon.

Reaching the far bank, Firestar turned upriver toward the RiverClan camp. Before he reached it he came to the stream that led to the clearing of the Bonehill. A shudder ran through him as he remembered the last time he had been here. The reek of crowfood was fainter now, but the scent of many cats came to him on the breeze. Firestar recognized the mingled scent of TigerClan, once so ominous but now almost familiar compared with the stench of BloodClan.

“I think they must be in the clearing by the Bonehill,” he mewed over his shoulder. “Some of them, at least. We’ll go and see—Graystripe, keep a lookout.”

Graystripe fell back as Firestar followed the stream, creeping quietly through the reeds until he came to the edge of the clearing. Peering out, he saw that the Bonehill was already beginning to crumble so that it looked like nothing more than a heap of rubbish. The stream was no longer choked with rotting prey, and there was a small heap of fresh-kill, as if cats had begun to establish a new camp.

Several warriors were huddled in the clearing, with ungroomed fur and dull, staring eyes. Firestar was surprised to see cats from both RiverClan and ShadowClan. He had expected to find only ShadowClan warriors setting up a camp here while RiverClan occupied their old camp on the island upriver.

Leopardstar was crouched at the foot of the Bonehill. She was gazing straight in front of her, and Firestar thought she must have seen him, but she gave no sign. The ShadowClan deputy, Blackfoot, lay close by. As his initial surprise ebbed, Firestar felt relieved that he would be able to deal straightaway with Leopardstar, who was obviously trying to rule both Clans.

He glanced back at Sandstorm. “What’s wrong with them?” he murmured. He would almost have believed that the warriors were sick, but there was no taint of sickness in the air.

Sandstorm shook her head helplessly, and Firestar turned back to the clearing. He had come here looking for a fighting force, but these cats appeared to be half-dead. Still, there was no sense in going back. Signaling with his tail for his own cats to follow, he stepped into the clearing.