Firestar could hardly bear to see all the courage and loyalty that they were losing. “I’m sorry you left ThunderClan,” he meowed, “and I wish you well. Tawnypaw, I really believe that if all four Clans fight tomorrow we can win back the forest. ShadowClan will survive, and be a Clan you can be proud of—a Clan that will be proud of you.”
Tawnypaw gave him a short nod. “Thank you.”
Bramblepaw looked distraught, but Firestar knew there was nothing more to say. The sound of his name distracted him, and he turned to see that Leopardstar was padding toward him across the clearing.
“I have made my decision,” she told him.
Firestar felt his heart begin to pound. Everything rested on Leopardstar’s choice. Without the support of RiverClan and ShadowClan—even with their warriors in such a pitiful state—there was no hope of driving BloodClan out of the forest. The few heartbeats before Leopardstar reached him seemed to stretch out to a moon.
“RiverClan will fight against BloodClan tomorrow,” she announced.
“And so will ShadowClan,” Blackfoot added, walking up behind her. His eyes flashed at Leopardstar as he silently asserted his authority.
Even though Firestar was relieved that the leaders had chosen to fight, he noticed some doubtful looks among the other cats. Darkstripe was the only one to speak out loud.
“You’re all mad,” he spat. “Joining a kittypet? Well, I’m not going to follow him, whatever any cat says.”
“You’ll obey orders,” snapped Leopardstar.
“Make me,” Darkstripe retorted. “You’re not my leader.”
For a few heartbeats Leopardstar looked at him with cold eyes. Then she shrugged. “Thank StarClan I’m not. You’re about as much use as a dead fox. Very well, Darkstripe, do as you like.”
The dark warrior hesitated, looking from Leopardstar to Blackfoot and back again, and then around at the rest of the clearing. The warriors were still murmuring among themselves, and none of them paid any attention to Darkstripe.
He glanced back at Leopardstar as if he were about to speak, but the RiverClan leader had already turned away. Darkstripe swung around with a vicious snarl at Firestar. “You fools—you’ll all be ripped apart tomorrow.”
He stalked away in dead silence. The cats parted to let him go and watched him until he disappeared into the reeds. Firestar wondered where the solitary warrior could possibly go now.
Leopardstar stepped forward. “I swear by StarClan that we will meet you at dawn tomorrow at Fourtrees. We will fight with you and WindClan against BloodClan.” More briskly she added, “Shadepelt, will you send out hunting patrols? We’ll need all our strength for tomorrow.”
A dark gray RiverClan she-cat flicked her tail and began moving through the cats, choosing warriors for the patrols.
Leopardstar looked at the Bonehill with deep sadness in her eyes, and a shiver ran through her mottled pelt. “We must pull this down,” she murmured. “It belongs to a darker time.”
She dug her claws into the heap of prey bones. Slowly and hesitantly, as if they still thought that Tigerstar might appear and accuse them of treachery, her warriors joined her. Bone by bone, the pile was scattered across the clearing. Blackfoot and a few of the ShadowClan warriors stood watching a little way off. The deputy’s face was shadowed, and it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.
Firestar drew his own followers away. He had succeeded in what he set out to do, and he could not help admiring Leopardstar’s courage, but instead of satisfaction he felt a dark surge of foreboding as he cast one last glance at the two Clans in the clearing.
Chapter 27
Firestar padded out of his den. The clearing was empty, but he could hear the faint sounds of warriors waking up. Frost glittered on the ground, while above his head Silverpelt flowed like a river across the sky.
Pausing to drink in the night air filled with the scents of so many familiar cats, Firestar felt every hair on his pelt stand up. This could be the last morning he would ever spend in camp. It could be the last morning for any Clan. He felt as if everything were spinning out of his control, but when he looked for strength in the knowledge that StarClan controlled his fate, he found only uncertainty.
Firestar sighed and shook himself before walking over to the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt’s den. The medicine cat was dragging herbs and berries into the clearing, where Fernpaw was making them into bundles ready to carry.
“Is everything ready?” Firestar asked.
“I think so.” Pain filled Cinderpelt’s blue eyes, as if she were already seeing the wounded cats who would soon need her help. “I’ll need more cats to carry all this up to Fourtrees. Fernpaw and I can’t manage it on our own.”