The Darkest Hour

Flashing a grateful look at the RiverClan deputy, Fireheart began picking his way down the ravine, his ears pricked for any sound of trouble ahead. But the strange silence still reigned over the forest.

As he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the clearing, Fireheart paused to glance warily around. It was possible that one or more of the dogs had never made it to the gorge, or that Tigerstar had sent ShadowClan warriors to take over the camp. But all was quiet. Fireheart’s fur prickled with the strangeness of seeing the camp deserted like this, yet there was no sign of danger, and still no scent of dogs or ShadowClan.

To be sure the camp was safe, he rapidly checked the den s and the nursery. Memories came unbidden: the be wilderment of the Clan as he told then about the dog pack, the heart-pounding terror of the chase through the forest with the breath of the pack leader hot on his fur. At the foot of the Highrock, listening to the wind whispering through the trees, Fireheart thought back to the time Tigerstar had stood her e, boldly facing his Clan as they discovered the true depth of his treachery. He had sworn undying vengeance as he was sent into exile, and Fireheart was sure that his blood thirsty attempt to set the dog pack on the cats of ThunderClan would not be his last attempt to fulfill his oath.

Last of all Fireheart prowled cautiously through the fern tunnel to Cinderpelt’s den. Glancing through the entrance, he saw the medicine cat’s healing herbs neatly ranged beside one wall. The strongest memory yet flooded over him, of Spottedleaf and Yellowfang, who had been ThunderClan medicine cats before Cinderpelt. Fireheart had loved them both, and grief for them swept over him again to mingle with his grief for his leader.

Bluestar is dead, he told them silently. Is she with you now, in StarClan?

Retracing his steps along the fern tunnel, he returned to the top of the ravine. Graystripe was standing on watch while Mistyfoot and Stonefur gently groomed the dead leader’s body.

“Everything’s fine,” Fireheart announced. “Graystripe, I want you to go to Sunningrocks now. Tell the Clan that Bluestar is dead, but nothing more. I’ll explain every thing when I see them. Just let them know that it’s safe to come home.”

Graystripe’s yellow eyes brightened. “On my way, Fireheart.” He spun around and tore off through the forest, heading for Sunningrocks, where the Clan had gone to hide while the dogs w ere following Tigerstar’s trail of rabbit blood to their camp.

Stonefur, crouching beside Bluestar’s body, let out a purr of amusement. “It’s easy to see where Graystripe’s loyalties lie,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed. “No cat ever really thought he would stay in RiverClan.”

Graystripe’s kits had been born to a RiverClan queen, and for a while he had gone to RiverClan to be with them, but in his heart he had never left ThunderClan. Forced into battle against his birth Clan, he had chosen to save Fireheart’s life, and the RiverClan leader Leopardstar had banished him from her Clan. Her sentence of exile, Fireheart reflected, had freed the gray warrior to return to where he truly belonged.

With a nod of acknowledgment to the RiverClan warriors, Fireheart took up Bluestar again, and the three cats maneuvered her body down the ravine and into the camp. At last they could lay her down in her den beneath the Highrock, where she would remain until her Clan had said farewell to her and buried her with all the honor that such a wise and noble leader deserved.

“Thank you for your help,” Fireheart meowed to the RiverClan warriors. Hesitating for a moment, knowing only too well the significance of his invitation, he added, “Would you like to stay for Bluestar’s burial ceremony?”

“That is a generous offer,” Stonefur replied, showing only a flicker of surprise that Fireheart should admit members of a rival Clan to something so private. “But we have duties in our own Clan. We must be getting back.”

“Thank you, Fireheart,” meowed Mistyfoot. “That means a lot to us. But your Clan will think it’s strange if we stay. They don’t know, do they, that Bluestar was our mother?”

“No,” Fireheart told her. “Only Graystripe. But Tigerstar overheard what you and Bluestar said to each other on…on the riverbank. You must be prepared in case he chooses to reveal it at the next Gathering.”

Stonefur and Mistyfoot exchanged a glance. Then Stonefur drew himself up, his blue eyes gleaming defiantly. “Let Tigerstar say what he likes,” he meowed. “I’ll tell RiverClan myself today. We’re not ashamed of our mother. She was a noble leader—and our father was a great deputy.”

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed. “No cat can argue with that, even if they did come from different Clans.”