The Darkest Hour

Ravenpaw had left at dawn, his injured ear swathed in cobweb and a gleam in his eyes as he recalled the battle on the stepping-stones.

“Amazing how my old training came back to me,” he meowed to Firestar. “I hadn’t forgotten the fighting moves.”

“You did brilliantly,” Firestar purred. “You’re a real friend to ThunderClan.”

“Now that Tigerstar is rising to power, I think ThunderClan needs all the friends it can get,” the loner mewed seriously.

Ravenpaw had spent a few moments by Bluestar’s grave and then set out for the farm near Highstones. Firestar wondered if he would need to call on Ravenpaw for help again. Tigerstar’s enemies would have to unite to drive him out of the forest—yet Firestar knew that the final confrontation must be his alone.

He waited until all the Clan cats had settled themselves around the Highrock, and then began to speak.

“You’ve all heard by now that Graystripe, Ravenpaw, and I went over to RiverClan territory last night.” He described the Bonehill and the rotting prey strewn around the clearing, and how Tigerstar had whipped up the hatred of his warriors against half-Clans—cats whose parents came from two different Clans. Firestar’s voice shook as he described the murder of Stonefur, and the cats below him shuddered and flatten e d themselves against the ground in sympathy and terror.

Dustpelt growled, “Why aren’t we attacking ShadowClan right now, then, for revenge?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that,” Firestar replied. “ThunderClan alone can’t take on ShadowClan and RiverClan combined, and expect to win.”

“We can have a good try,” retorted Cloudtail, springing to his paws.

“But where would we attack?” asked Firestar. “There’ll be warriors from both Clans in the RiverClan camp, and I don’t expect TigerStar has left the ShadowClan camp unguarded.

“I feel just the same as you,” he went on. “I don’t like what Tigerstar is doing, and I’m afraid of what he might do in the future. I’d like to know what StarClan want us to do, but so far I’ve had no word from them. Cinderpelt, have they spoken to you?”

The medicine cat glanced up at him. “No, not yet.”

With an angry flick of his ears, Cloudtail sat down again, and Brightheart rubbed against his shoulder to calm him down.

In the brief pause, Firestar wondered if it was true to say that he had received no message from StarClan. There had been the vision of himself in the stream, wearing the glory of LionClan. He thought again of Bluestar’s prophecy that Four will become two; lion and tiger will join in battle.

Suddenly understanding dawned on Firestar like a ray of sunlight striking through branches. Four Clans would become two; did that mean ThunderClan must join with WindClan?

“We’re still here, Firestar!” Dustpelt’s voice disturbed his thoughts.

Firestar started. “Sorry,” he meowed. “I’ve called you here to welcome the three RiverClan cats we rescued. You all know Mistyfoot, and Featherpaw and Stormpaw, Graystripe’s kits. I think we should offer them a place in ThunderClan until it’s safe for them to go home.”

Murmuring broke out around the clearing as he made the suggestion. Most cats agreed with him, Firestar could see, but a few others were looking uncertain.

Longtail was the first to voice his doubts. “That’s all very well, Firestar, and I’m sorry for what they’ve been through, but if they stay here, what are they going to eat? It’s the middle of leaf-bare. We’ve got our work cut out feeding ourselves.”

“I’ll hunt for them!” Graystripe sprang up to face the Clan. “I can feed all three of them, and more of the Clan as well.”

“We’re not helpless, you know,” added Mistyfoot. “Give us a day or two to get stronger, and we’ll hunt for ourselves and you as well.”

Mousefur got up and spoke directly to Firestar. “It’s not a question of who’s going to hunt. This is a harder leaf-bare than usual, after the fire. We’re all hungry, and we’ll need all the strength we can get if we’re going to have to fight this TigerClan. I say they should go home.”

Sandstorm leaped to her paws before Firestar could speak.” They can’t go home,” she pointed out. “Weren’t you listening? They’ll be murdered if they do, like Stonefur.”

“Do you want it to be known that ThunderClan sent cats to their death?” Brackenfur added.

Mousefur looked down at her paws, anger making her fur bristle.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Whitestorm meowed calmly, “that all these cats are half ThunderClan. They have a right to ask us for shelter.”

From his vantage point on top of the Highrock, Firestar saw a ripple of shock pass through his cats as they turn e d to look at Mistyfoot, standing like a living shadow of their former leader. Remembering the hostility some of them had shown when Mistyfoot and Stonefur had shared tongues with the dead Bluestar, Firestar realized that Whitestorm was taking quite a risk in reminding them.