The Darkest Hour

“What happened then?” Frostfur asked quietly.

“I went in after her, but I couldn’t save her.” Briefly Fireheart closed his eyes, remembering the churning water and his hopeless struggle to keep his leader afloat. “Mistyfoot and Stonefur from RiverClan came to help me when we had been swept clear of the gorge,” he went on. “Bluestar was alive when we got her out but it was too late. Her ninth life was over, and she left us to join StarClan.”

A yowl of grief came from somewhere among the circle of cats. Fireheart realized that many of the cats had not even been born when Bluestar became leader, and losing her now must feel as if the four great oaks of Fourtrees had been torn up overnight.

He raised his voice, forcing it not to shake. “Bluestar isn’t gone, you know. She’s already watching over us from StarClan…her spirit is here with us now.” Or in her den, he thought privately, sharing tongues with Stonefur and Mistyfoot.

“I would like to see Bluestar now,” meowed Speckletail. “Where is she—in her den?” She turned toward the entrance, flanked by Dappletail and Smallear.

“I’ll come with you,” Frostfur offered, springing to her paws.

Alarm shot through Fireheart. He had hoped to give Mistyfoot and Stonefur as much time as possible with their dead mother, but he suddenly realized that apart from Graystripe and Sandstorm, no cats even knew that the two RiverClan warriors were in the camp.

“Wait-” he began, shouldering his way through the circle.

It was too late. Speckletail and Frostfur were already standing in the entrance to Bluestar’s den, their fur bristling and their tails fluffed out to twice their normal size as they confronted the strange cats. A menacing snarl came from Frostfur. “What are you doing here?”

Chapter 2

As Fireheart bounded across to Bluestar’s den, Speckle tail spun around to face him. Her eyes were burning with anger. “There are two RiverClan cats here,” she growled. “Mauling our leader’s body!”

“No—no, they’re not.” Fireheart gasped. “They’ve a right to be here.”

He realized that the rest of the Clan had gathered anxiously behind him and he heard Cloudtail yowling a challenge, with snarls of rage breaking out all around.

Fireheart whirled to face them. “Keep back!” he ordered. “It’s all right. Mistyfoot and Stonefur-”

“You know they’re here?” The voice was Darkstripe’s; the dark tabby thrust his way through the crowd to stand nose-to-nose with Fireheart. “You let enemy cats into our camp—into our leader’s den?”

Fireheart took a breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He deeply mistrusted the black-striped tabby. When the Clan had been preparing to escape the dog pack, Darkstripe had tried to slip away with Tigerstar’s kits. He had sworn that he knew nothing of Tigerstar’s plot to destroy ThunderClan with the dogs, but Fireheart was not sure he believed him.

“Have you forgotten what I told you?” he asked. “Mistyfoot and Stonefur helped me to pull Bluestar out of the river.”

“So you say!” Darkstripe spat. “How do we know you’re telling the truth? Why should RiverClan cats help ThunderClan?”

“They’ve helped us often enough in the past,” Fireheart reminded him. “More of us would have died after the fire if RiverClan hadn’t given us shelter.”

“That’s true,” meowed Mousefur. She had returned with Cinderpelt from the medicine cat’s den in time to hear the confrontation, and now she pushed forward to stand beside Darkstripe. “But it’s no excuse to leave them alone in the den with Bluestar’s body. What are they doing in there?”

“We are giving honor to Bluestar.”

Stonefur spoke defiantly, and Fireheart turned his head to see that the RiverClan deputy and Mistyfoot had appeared in the mouth of the den. They both looked taken aback at the reaction of the ThunderClan cats, their fur beginning to bristle as they realized they were being treated as intruders.

“We wanted to say good-bye to her,” Mistyfoot meowed.

“Why?” Mousefur demanded.

Fireheart’s stomach clenched as Mistyfoot faced the light brown she-cat and answered, “She was our mother.”

Silence fell, broken only by the call of a blackbird from the edge of the camp. Fireheart’s mind raced as he faced the shocked, hostile stares of his Clan. His gaze met Sandstorm’s; she looked dismayed, as if she guessed that Fireheart would never have chosen for ThunderClan to discover their leader’s secret like this.

“Your mother?” growled Speckletail. “I don’t believe it. Bluestar would never have allowed her kits to be raised in another Clan.”

“Believe it or not, it’s true,” Stonefur retorted.

Fireheart stepped forward, warning Stonefur to stay silent with a flick of his tail. “I’ll deal with this now. You and Mistyfoot had better go.”

Stonefur gave him a curt nod and took the lead as he and Mistyfoot made their way toward the gorse tunnel. Fireheart heard one or two furious hisses as the ThunderClan cats parted to let them pass.