The Darkest Hour

“I was hoping for a word with you,” he began, without even waiting for a greeting. “And it’s best out here, where no cat will overhear us.”

Firestar’s heart lurched. “What’s the matter? Has something gone wrong?”

“You mean apart from Scourge?” the older warrior meowed wry l y. He settled himself on a flat rock and beckoned with his tail for Firestar to join him. “No, nothing’s wrong. The patrols and the training are going well…but I keep asking myself, have we really thought about what we’re doing?”

Firestar stared at him. “What do you mean?”

The ThunderClan deputy took a deep, painful breath. “Scourge and his Clan outnumber us by many, even with WindClan fighting on our side. I know our warriors will fight to the last drop of blood to save the forest, but perhaps the price will be too high.”

“Are you saying we should give in?” Firestar’s voice sharpened; he had never expected to hear advice like this from his deputy. If Whitestorm’s courage hadn’t been beyond question, he would have said it was the speech of a coward. “Leave the forest?”

“I don’t know.” Whitestorm sounded tired, and Firestar was suddenly reminded of his age. “Things are changing, no cat can deny that, and perhaps it’s time to move on. There must be territory beyond Highstones. We could find another place—”

“Never!” Firestar interrupted. “The forest is ours.”

“You’re young.” Whitestorm looked solemnly at him. “You would see it that way. But cats are going to die, Firestar.”

“I know.” All day Firestar had kept busy, encouraging his warriors—and himself—with thoughts of a victory over Scourge. Now Whitestorm was forcing him to face the fact that even if they won, it would be at a terrible cost. ThunderClan might drive the invading cats from the forest and still be left with few survivors, as weakened as if they had been defeated.

“We must go on,” he meowed. “We can’t turn tail and run like mice. You’re right, Whitestorm, I know you are, but what other choice have we? It can’t be the will of StarClan for us to leave the forest.”

Whitestorm nodded. “I thought you would say that. Well, I’ve told you what I think. That’s what a deputy’s for.”

“I’m grateful for it, Whitestorm.”

The white warrior rose to his paws, turned toward his vole, and then glanced back at Firestar. “I’ve never had the kind of ambition that drove Tigerstar—or you,” he meowed. “I’ve never wanted to be leader. But I’m particularly glad I’m not leader now. No sane cat would envy you the decisions you have to make.”

Firestar blinked, not knowing what to say.

“All I hope for,” Whitestorm went on, “is that I’ll fight my hardest when the time comes.”

A shadow of uncertainty crossed his face, and Firestar realized that many cats would have joined the elders by Whitestorm’s age. It would be natural for him to fear that his fighting strength might fail.

“I know you will,” he agreed. “There’s no nobler warrior in the whole forest.”

Whitestorm held his gaze for a long moment, saying n o thing. Then he picked up his vole and padded into the camp.

Firestar stayed on the rock. Whitestorm’s words had disturbed him, and he was suddenly reluctant to go back into camp and settle in his shadowy den under the Highrock. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

After a few moments listening to the soft sounds of the gathering night, Firestar rose and headed back up the ravine. Faint red streaks showed where the sun had gone down, but overhead the sky was dark, and a few early warriors of StarClan looked down at him.

Firestar slipped silently through the undergrowth, and it was some time before he realized that his paws were taking him toward Sunningrocks. By the time he reached the edge of the trees it was completely dark. The rounded shapes of the rocks were outlined against the sky like the backs of crouching animals, with a shimmer of frost on the surface. Beyond them he could hear the soft bubble of the river over stones, and much closer a faint scuffling noise alerted him to the presence of prey.

Firestar’s mouth watered as he identified the scent of a mouse. Barely letting his paws touch the ground, he crept up on it and sprang. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his jaws closed on it, and he finished it in a few ravenous gulps.

Feeling better, Firestar sprang up to the top of the rock and found a place where he could sit and look down at the river. The dark water glittered with starlight. A breeze ruffled the surface, buffeting his fur and stirring the leafless forest around him.