The Last Hope

“What have you done? You’re not supposed to get hurt! What happened?” Cinderheart was at his side in a couple of paces, lapping the blood from his muzzle. Then she stiffened. “There’s only one way this could have happened. You did this on purpose.” Her words were no more than a breath in his ear. “Tell me you didn’t.” She backed away, staring at him.

“You told me we could choose our destiny,” he reminded her, feeling a stone of fear in his belly. “I chose to be an ordinary warrior for once.”

Cinderheart blinked. “I told you we had to make the right choice!”

“How do you know I didn’t?”

“Look at yourself!” she hissed, gesturing with one paw at his wounds.

Lionblaze’s heart seemed to split as Cinderheart turned and walked away, the fur bristling along her spine. A flash of gray fur caught his eye.

“Come on.” Jayfeather was beside him, nosing him gently toward the medicine den. Lionblaze braced himself for another lecture. He was ready to be told he was a mouse-brain. A traitor, even, because he had rejected the prophecy. But Jayfeather just guided him through the brambles into his den.

Briarlight was lying in her nest, propped up on her forelegs. “What happened?” she gasped as she caught sight of Lionblaze.

“Go and get some fresh-kill,” Jayfeather told her.

“But—”

Jayfeather flicked his tail. “Now.”

Hauling herself over the edge of her nest, Briarlight dragged her hind legs out through the entrance.

Jayfeather padded to the crack in the rock at the back of the den. “Sit down.” He stuck his head into the shadows and pulled out a wad of leaves. Crouching, he began to chew them into a poultice.

The brambles swished at the mouth of the den. “Are you going to explain to me what just happened?” Firestar stood in the entrance, green eyes sharp with rage. “Graystripe told me that you started a fight with a ShadowClan patrol!” His ears twitched as he studied Lionblaze. “Why did you let them do that to you?”

Lionblaze stiffened. “Do I have to win every fight?”

“Yes!” Firestar thrust his muzzle into Lionblaze’s face. “That’s your destiny! That’s what the prophecy has decided!”

Lionblaze growled. “So I don’t get a choice?”

“No! You don’t get a choice!” Firestar flexed his claws. “You have to follow your destiny.”

Fury swept through Lionblaze like wildfire. “I wish I didn’t! I never asked for it! You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do!”

Firestar stared at him a moment, then took a step back. “You’re right.” His mew was weary. “I can’t force you to follow the path StarClan has chosen for you, Lionblaze.” His tail brushed the ground as he turned. “It’s a destiny you must choose for yourself.”

Lionblaze watched his leader disappear through the brambles. “So?” He turned on Jayfeather. “Aren’t you going to tell me how dumb I am, too? Go on!” he goaded. “Remind me again how the prophecy is the most important thing in the world!”

Jayfeather picked up a mouthful of chewed leaves and padded to Lionblaze’s side. He dropped the leaves and rolled them under his paw. “No.”

Lionblaze blinked. “What?”

Jayfeather lapped up a tongueful of leaf pulp and licked it into a wound. Lionblaze gritted his teeth, shocked by the pain. “Whatever you want to say, get it over with!”

Jayfeather sat back on his haunches. “What can I say?” he murmured. “What if the prophecy isn’t enough to save the Clans? What if it’s just the last desperate hope of a Clan of fading ancestors?” He sniffed a long scratch on Lionblaze’s cheek. “You can fight; Dovewing can hear; I can wander into thoughts and dreams. But does it make any difference? Are we any closer to defeating the Dark Forest? If we were, why would we need a fourth cat?”

“You think the prophecy won’t save the Clans?” Lionblaze suddenly forgot the sting of his scratches.

“I don’t know.” Sighing, Jayfeather began working on the rest of Lionblaze’s wounds.

Lionblaze lay back on the hard stone floor. Could his brother be right? Was the prophecy nothing more than StarClan’s last hope?

Chapter 9

“No, not like that!” Bumblestripe yowled.

Dovewing spun around to face him, gripping hard on the branch to stop herself from falling out of the tree. “You told me to climb, I’m climbing!” she snapped. Can’t I do anything right?

“Not the trunk.” Bumblestripe padded along the thick oak branch toward her. “In a battle, if every cat climbed the trunk, it’d be chaos.” He tipped his nose up and focused on the branch two tail-lengths above his head. Crouching, he sprang and gripped it with his forepaws, then hauled himself up. “Your turn.” He peered at her through the browning leaves.

Dovewing scowled. Hunkering down, she bunched her muscles, then leaped and dug her claws into the branch above. Flicking her tail, she landed nimbly beside Bumblestripe. “Is that better?” she sniffed.