The Darkest Hour

“You can have all the apprentices,” Firestar meowed. “Fernpaw, will you go and tell them?”

The young she-cat dipped her head and hurried off.

“Once we get there, the other apprentices will be needed to fight,” Firestar went on. “But Fernpaw can stay with you. Find somewhere well out of the way. I think there’s a sheltered hollow on the other side of the stream—”

Cinderpelt bristled. “Firestar, you don’t mean that? What use will I be if I’m not where the fighting is?”

“But the cats need you,” Firestar insisted. “If you’re injured, what happens to the rest of us?”

“Fernpaw and I can take care of ourselves. We’re not helpless kits, you know.” Cinderpelt’s tart response reminded Firestar of her mentor, Yellowfang.

Sighing, he padded up to the medicine cat and touched noses with her. “Have it your own way,” he meowed. “I know I can’t say anything to change your mind. But please…be careful.”

Cinderpelt let out a soft purr. “Don’t worry, Firestar. We’ll be fine.”

“Have StarClan spoken to you about the battle?” Firestar forced himself to ask.

“No, I’ve seen no omens at all.” The medicine cat raised her eyes to Silverpelt, where it was fading in the predawn sky. “It’s not like StarClan to be silent when something so important is going to happen.”

“I…I had a dream from them, Cinderpelt,” Firestar told her hesitantly, “but I’m not sure I understand it, and there isn’t time to tell you all of it now. I just hope it means something good for us.”

There was curiosity in Cinderpelt’s blue eyes as he spoke of his dream at Sunningrocks, but she did not question him.

Firestar returned through the fern tunnel and crossed the clearing to the elders’ den. On the way he passed Brackenfur on watch, and waved a greeting with his tail.

When he reached the fallen tree, charred by the fire that had swept through the camp last greenleaf, Firestar found all the elders still sleeping except for Speckletail, who sat with her tail curled around her paws.

The she-cat rose to her paws as Firestar came toward her. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” Firestar replied. “We’ll be leaving soon…but you’re not coming with us, Speckletail.”

“What?” The fur on Speckletail’s shoulders stiffened with annoyance. “Why not? We may be elders, but we’re not useless. Do you really think we’re going to sit back and—”

“Speckletail, listen. This is important. If you’re honest, you know that Smallear and One-eye would barely make it to Fourtrees, never mind fight when they got there. And Dappletail’s getting very frail. I can’t lead them into battle against Scourge.”

“And what about me?”

“I know you’re a fighter, Speckletail.” Firestar had thought carefully about what he was going to say, but with the elder glaring at him he felt like a raw apprentice again. “That’s why I need you here. There’ll be the other three elders here, and Willowpelt’s kits. They’ve learned some defensive moves but they’re not ready for battle. I’m putting you in charge of the camp while the rest of us are away.”

“But I—Oh.” Speckletail broke off as she understood what Firestar was asking her to do. Slowly the fur on her shoulders lay flat again. “I see. All right, Firestar. You can count on me.”

“Thank you.” Firestar blinked his gratitude at her. “If the battle goes badly, we’ll try to fall back here and reinforce you, but we might not make it. If BloodClan comes here, you’ll be all that’s left of ThunderClan.” His eyes met Speckletail’s. “You’ll need to get the kits and elders away. Try to cross the river, then head for Barley’s farm.”

“Right.” Speckletail gave him a brisk nod. “I’ll do the best I can.” Turning, she looked over to where Brightheart slept in the shelter of the tree trunk. “What about her?”

“Brightheart is as strong as any warrior now,” Fireheart meowed, his heart lifting. “She’s coming with us.” He padded over and nudged the young she-cat with one paw. “Wake up, Brightheart. It’s time to go.”

Brightheart blinked up at him with her good eye, then rose and stretched. “Okay, Firestar. I’m ready.”

She was heading out into the clearing when Firestar called her back. “Brightheart, if we come through this, you’ll be sleeping in the warriors’ den from now on.”

Brightheart’s ears pricked and she seemed to stand taller. “Thank you, Firestar!” she meowed, and dashed off, all her drowsiness vanished.

Dipping his head in farewell to Speckletail, Firestar followed Brightheart into the clearing. By now the other cats had begun to emerge from their dens. The apprentices, Featherpaw and Stormpaw among them, were cluster e d around Cinderpelt, each carrying a bundle of herbs. Dustpelt was with them, speaking urgently in a low voice to Fernpaw.

Closer to the warriors’ den, Brightheart had joined Cloudtail, while Mousefur and Longtail stalked around each other in a final practice of their fighting moves. As Firestar watched, Graystripe and Sandstorm slipped out from between the branches of the den with Thornclaw and Mistyfoot just behind. Whitestorm came up and urged the cats toward the nettle patch for a piece of fresh-kill.