The Darkest Hour

There was no boasting in the way he spoke, just calm determination. Firestar realized that he believed him. His apprentice had rewarded him for his honesty about visiting Twolegplace by being honest with him in return. Now, Firestar knew he owed it to Bramblepaw to trust his word.

“What about Tawnypaw?” he asked.

“Well…” Her brother hesitated, a troubled look in his eyes. “She can be a bit difficult at times—but it’s just her way. She’s a loyal cat at heart.”

“I’m sure she is,” Firestar mewed, though he noticed that Bramblepaw wasn’t entirely at ease discussing his sister with the Clan leader. He would need to keep a closer eye on Tawnypaw in future, and make sure she had all the support she needed to become a reliable ThunderClan warrior. A word with her mentor, Brackenfur, would be a good idea.

Struck by a sudden warmth toward his apprentice, Firestar added, “I’ve got to get on if I’m to finish patrolling the border before dark. Do you want to come with me?”

Bramblepaw’s amber eyes lit up. “Can I?”

“Sure.” Firestar leaped down from the fence and waited for the young cat to scramble down behind him. “We’ll do some training on the way.”

“Great!” Bramblepaw meowed enthusiastically.

He padded close to his mentor’s shoulder as Firestar led the way back into the trees.

Firestar halted on the edge of the Thunderpath and drew in the scent that flowed across from ShadowClan territory. Ti g e r s tar is out there, he thought. What is he planning? What will he do next?

As he stood wrapped in silent apprehension, he noticed scraps of white drifting down from the sky. Snow! Firestar thought, glancing up at a sky where the clouds were darker than ever. Hearing a surprised squeak from Bramblepaw, he turned around. A snowflake had landed on Bramblepaw’s nose and was slowly melting. The apprentice flicked out a pink tongue and licked it off, his yellow eyes round with wonder.

“What is it, Firestar?” he asked. “It’s cold!”

Firestar let out a purr of amusement. “It’s snow,” he replied. “It comes in leaf-bare. If it goes on like this, the flakes will cover all the ground and the trees.”

“Really? But they’re so tiny!”

“There will be lots of them, though.”

The flakes were already growing larger and falling more thickly, almost hiding the trees on the other side of the Thunderpath and smothering the ShadowClan scent. Even the roar of the monsters was muffled and they moved slowly, as if their glowing eyes couldn’t see well through the snow.

Firestar knew that snowfall would bring more problems to the forest. Prey would die in the cold, or huddle deep in holes where hunters could not follow. It would be harder than ever to feed the Clan.

His apprentice was watching the falling flakes with wide eyes. Firestar saw him reach out one paw tentatively to dab at one of them. A heartbeat later he was leaping and whirling with high-pitched mews of excitement, as if he were trying to catch every single flake before it reached the ground.

Firestar was surprised by a rush of affection. It was good to see the young cat playing like a kit again. Surely the dark-hearted Tigerstar had never chased snowflakes just for the joy of it? Or if he had, when had he lost the joy, and begun to care only for his own power?

There was no answer to that question, and Firestar knew that for Tigerstar, just as much as for himself, there was no going back. Their paws were firmly on the path StarClan had decided they should follow, and sooner or later the two leaders must meet to decide who should remain in the forest.

Chapter 8

The snow had stopped by the time Firestar and Bramblepaw return e d to camp. The clouds had cleared away and the setting sun cast long blue shadows over the thin coating of white that powder e d the ground. Both cats were carrying fresh-kill; Firestar had watched his apprentice’s hunting skills and been impressed by the young cat’s concentration and skillful stalking.

They had just reached the top of the ravine when they heard a yowl behind them. Firestar turned to see Graystripe bounding through the undergrowth.

“Hi,” panted the gray warrior as he caught up with them. His eyes widened when he saw their catch. “You’ve had better luck than me. I couldn’t find so much as a mouse.”

Firestar grunted sympathetically as he led the way toward the gorse tunnel. He noticed that Sorrelkit, the most adventurous of Willowpelt’s three kits, had left the camp and climbed halfway up the steep slope farther along the ravine. To Firestar’s surprise, she was with Darkstripe; the warrior was b ending over her, saying something to her.

“Odd,” Firestar muttered through a mouthful of squirrel fur, half to himself. “Darkstripe has never shown much interest in kits before. And what’s he doing out here on his o w n?”