The Darkest Hour

At once the cats in the clearing began to slip away. Tigerstar leaped down from the Bonehill and vanished into the reeds, flanked by Blackfoot and Darkstripe. Eventually only Leopardstar was left. She padded forward until she stood over the broken body of her former deputy. Slowly she bent her head and nosed Stonefur’s torn gray pelt. If she meowed a last farewell, Firestar did not hear it, and after a moment she turned and followed Tigerstar through the reeds.

“Now!” Graystripe sprang to his paws. “Firestar, we’ve got to rescue my kits.”

“Yes, but don’t go rushing off,” Firestar warned him. “We have to make sure all the cats have gone.”

His friend’s body was quivering with suppressed tension. “I don’t care!” he spat. “If they try to stop us, I’ll rip them all apart.”

“The kits are safe for the moment,” murmured Ravenpaw. “There’s no need to take risks.”

Firestar cautiously raised his head above the level of the reeds. By now it was quite dark; the only light came from Silverpelt and a pale glow from the moon low in the sky. The ShadowClan and RiverClan scents were rapidly fading. The only sound was the dry rustle of wind in the reeds.

Crouching down again, Firestar murmured, “They’ve gone for now. This is our chance. We’ve got to find where they’re keeping the apprentices, and—”

“And get them away,” Graystripe interrupted. “Whatever it takes.”

Firestar nodded. “Ravenpaw, are you up for it? It will be dangerous.”

The loner’s eyes widened. “You think I’d leave, after we saw that? No way. I’m with you, Firestar.”

“Good.” Firestar blinked in gratitude. “I thought you would be.”

Beckoning his two friends with his tail, he led the way into the clearing, his pawsteps growing hesitant as he left the shelter of the reeds. He knew what he was doing was against the warrior code, but what Tigerstar had done had left him no alternative. He did not know how his warrior ancestors could have watched the slaughter of Stonefur without doing anything to save him.

Creeping close to the ground, the three cats reached the stream where rotting fresh-kill lay strewn along the bank. In the midst of his cold fury, Firestar spared a moment to be angry at the waste of prey in such a hard season.

“Look at that!” he hissed.

“But we could roll in it,” Ravenpaw suggested. “It’ll disguise our scent.”

Firestar gave him a brief nod, approval calming his anger. Ravenpaw was thinking like a warrior. Firestar crouched down and pressed his fur into the decaying carcass of a rabbit. Graystripe and Ravenpaw followed. The gray warrior’s eyes were like chips of yellow flint.

When all three cats were thoroughly covered with the scent of crowfood, Firestar headed into the reeds where he had seen Jaggedtooth disappear with the two apprentices. There was a narrow path along the frozen mud, as if cats regularly came and went that way. All Firestar’s senses were alert.

As they headed away from the river toward the farmland on the other side of RiverClan territory, the reeds thinned out and the ground rose. When Firestar and his friends came to the edge of the cover, they saw a grassy slope in front of them with an occasional clump of gorse and hawthorn. About halfway up a dark hole yawned in the hillside. Jaggedtooth was crouched outside it.

“There are pawprints leading into that hole,” Firestar murmured.

Graystripe lifted his muzzle to taste the air and let out a faint sound of disgust. “Sick cats,” he meowed quietly. “You’re right, Firestar; this is the place.” He bared his teeth. “Jaggedtooth is mine.”

“No.” Firestar’s tail whipped out, signaling his friend to stay where he was. “We can’t afford a fight. The noise would bring every cat in the territory. We have to get rid of him another way.”

“I can do that.” Ravenpaw’s paws anxiously kneaded the ground, but his expression was determined. “He’ll recognize you two, but he doesn’t know me.”

Firestar hesitated, then nodded. “How will you do it?”

“I’ve got a plan.” Ravenpaw’s eyes shone with anticipation, and Firestar realized that the loner was almost relishing the danger, as if he had missed having a chance to use his warrior skills. “Don’t worry; it’ll be fine,” the black cat assured him.

Straightening up, he strolled out of the reeds and up the slope, his head and tail held high. Jaggedtooth got up and paced forward to meet him, the tabby fur on his neck bristling.

Firestar gathered himself, ready to spring if the ShadowClan warrior attacked. But though Jaggedtooth looked aggressive, he did nothing more than give Ravenpaw a suspicious sniff.

“I don’t know you,” he growled. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Think you know all the RiverClan cats, do you?” Ravenpaw inquired coolly. “I’ve got a message from Tigerstar.”

Jaggedtooth grunted and his whiskers twitched as he sniffed Ravenpaw again. “Great StarClan, you stink!”

“You don’t smell so pleasant yourself,” Ravenpaw retorted. “Do you want this message or don’t you?”