Erin Hunter - Sunset

We’ll figure something out.”

Without waiting for Stormfur to agree, he headed for the Highledge. Behind him he heard Squirrelflight meow, “How about a hunt? I found a great place for prey the other day, just crawling with mice.”

When Brambleclaw poked his head into Firestar’s den, the Clan leader was sitting in his nest, his gaze fixed on the rock wall. He jumped when Brambleclaw appeared.

“Oh, it’s you,” he mewed. “Come in.” Still with the distant look in his eyes, he added, “I was just remembering when Stormfur was born. Graystripe took him and Feathertail to RiverClan because he thought they would be safe and wanted there.”

Brambleclaw let out a murmur of sympathy. He couldn’t remember that far back, when he had been a tiny kit in the nursery with his sister, Tawnypelt. She had left too, to become a warrior of ShadowClan. For a heartbeat, loneliness clawed at his throat and he felt Firestar’s pain as if it were his own.

“Firestar, I have to talk to you,” he began reluctantly.

“What is it?” Some of the old fire returned to Firestar’s eyes. “I thought you wanted Stormfur and Brook to stay?”

“I do. I think you’re right that the Clan needs new warriors. But…” His claws scratched on the hard stone floor of the den. “I’m not sure you’re going about it the right way.”

He half expected a cuff over the ear for being rude, but Firestar just held him with a piercing green gaze.

“Go on.”

“Every cat in ThunderClan is loyal. They would all die for ThunderClan if they had to. But Dustpelt and Mousefur feel—every cat feels—that they have to make a stand for the sake of the Clan. They’re worried about the Clan looking weak.”

“So what do you suggest?” Firestar growled. “Give in to them? Drive out two great warriors just because the Clan doesn’t like where they came from?”

“No. But you have to show them that ThunderClan has strong leadership. That there’s nothing to worry about, that we are strong, and that whatever happens the Clan will stick together.”

Firestar narrowed his eyes. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

Brambleclaw swallowed. He knew what he had to say, though the words stuck in his throat like a stubborn piece of fresh-kill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the place where dreams are born, he seemed to hear Tigerstar screeching at him in uncontrollable rage. But none of that mattered.

His loyalty to his Clan had to come first.

“You need to appoint a new deputy.”

Firestar stared at him, and in that searching gaze Brambleclaw could see that Firestar knew exactly what he was asking.

But his leader’s only response was, “Why?”

“Because a united leadership—two loyal cats in charge—would do more than anything else to convince the Clan that we’re strong again in spite of the badger attack. Don’t you know that warriors like Blackstar sneer at us and call us weak?”

The hair on Firestar’s neck and shoulders bristled, and his voice was a soft growl. “Weak? I wish Blackstar dared say that to my face.”

“Weak,” Brambleclaw repeated. He took a deep breath.

“The Clan is vulnerable when there’s no deputy, because if other Clans see it as a weakness, they’re more likely to attack us. ShadowClan have already made one attempt to set their scent markers on our territory. It’s dangerous to leave things as they are. Firestar, every cat knows how much you grieve for Graystripe. But you must appoint a new deputy.”

Firestar’s green gaze was fixed on the wall of the den, as if he could see past the stone to some scene Brambleclaw could not begin to guess at. “Do you remember,” he began softly, “how I had to leave the Clan for a while when you were a new warrior? Graystripe promised me then that he would keep the Clan safe. ‘I’ll wait for you,’ he said to me. ‘I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.’ Do you think I shouldn’t do the same for him?”

“No, Firestar.” Brambleclaw felt desperately sad to hear the anguish in Firestar’s voice as he recalled his old friend’s unswerving loyalty. “But if you had died on your quest, even Graystripe would have had to accept it, sooner or later.”

Firestar’s tail lashed once. “Graystripe is not dead! I’ll never give up hope until I have some kind of sign from StarClan telling me he isn’t still alive.”

“StarClan can’t see everywhere.”

Firestar froze as a new voice spoke. Brambleclaw glanced over his shoulder to see Sandstorm standing at the entrance to the den. She was right. In the mountains, the Tribe of Endless Hunting prowled the skies. Those paths were unknown to StarClan. If Graystripe still lived, perhaps he too walked under different skies, and StarClan did not know his fate.

Sandstorm slipped inside the den and went up to Firestar, pressing her muzzle against his. “I know it’s hard,” she meowed. “Graystripe was my friend too. But it might be time to accept that he isn’t coming back.”

Firestar’s gaze rested on her for a moment, then shifted to Brambleclaw. There was a world of hurt and betrayal in his eyes. “How can you both doubt me? Would you be so quick to give up hope for me, too?”

Sandstorm sat beside him, a flick of her tail indicating that Brambleclaw should leave. Brambleclaw dipped his head and backed away. Part of him respected Sandstorm’s wisdom, and hoped she could persuade the cat who was her mate as well as her leader to accept that his closest friend was never coming back. Partly he was filled with frustration that Firestar could be so blind. It was obvious to every other cat that ThunderClan needed a deputy. If Firestar went on refusing to admit that, Brambleclaw thought grimly, he might find himself challenged by more than an unexpected Clan meeting.

When the meeting was over, Leafpool retreated to her den and busied herself making a poultice of yarrow for Goldenflower, who was complaining of cracked pads. Uneasiness wreathed her like fog. Firestar had never faced a challenge to his leadership like this. What had happened to ThunderClan’s trust in him that had brought them through their long journey to their new home? Had they really forgotten everything Firestar had done for them?

She had other worries, too, suspicions that troubled her even more deeply. She remembered Feathertail’s warning, and how Bluestar had told her in a dream that her path would twist in ways she could not foresee. It can’t be true , she told herself. If it is, what will I do?

Pushing the troubling thoughts firmly out of her mind, Leafpool scooped up the poultice on a leaf, ready to take to the elders’ den. Suddenly she heard paw steps just beyond the bramble screen. Expecting a sick or injured cat, she popped her head out of her den and found herself face-to-face with her father.

“Firestar!” she exclaimed. “Are you sick?” He looked ill, his green eyes dull and his tail drooping.

Firestar shook his head. “I’m fine,” he mewed unconvincingly. “Your mother said I should come and talk to you. I need a medicine cat’s advice.”

Leafpool motioned to him to sit in the bracken outside the entrance to her den. It was warm here in the sun, but they were hidden from the rest of the camp by the screen of brambles. Sitting beside him, she curled her tail neatly over her paws and murmured, “I’m here if you need me. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

Firestar heaved a sigh. “Brambleclaw spoke to me. He thinks Graystripe is dead, and I should appoint a new deputy.