Erin Hunter - Sunset

Sandstorm agrees with him. Do you think they’re right?”

Leafpool’s pelt prickled. However much she tried to ignore her personal feelings, she still found it hard to trust Brambleclaw after she had seen him in the dark forest with Hawkfrost and Tigerstar. But how could she tell that to Firestar? What could Firestar do about it, when in the waking world Brambleclaw was a loyal and energetic ThunderClan warrior? Besides, what true medicine cat would walk beyond StarClan? How could it be part of her duties to pass on what she had seen in the forest of shadows?

She wondered whether Brambleclaw had brought this up because he hoped Firestar would choose him as the new deputy. She had seen ambition gleaming in his amber eyes, and she knew he wanted power. But she reminded herself that Brambleclaw couldn’t be made deputy because he had never had an apprentice. He must have put his own ambition aside for the good of the Clan; perhaps she was being unfair when she looked for the darkness in him.

Firestar was waiting for an answer, his green gaze fixed patiently on her. “Is there no hope for Graystripe?” he prompted. “Hasn’t StarClan shown you any sort of sign about him?”

Leafpool shook her head. But she knew she trusted her own inner voice this time. “I think you should accept that Graystripe is gone,” she told her father, her voice shaking as she saw the pain in his eyes.

“We’ve lost so many cats,” he murmured. “Graystripe and Cinderpelt were my closest friends.”

“The whole Clan will grieve for him,” Leafpool told him.

“Stormfur, too.”

As if her words had called him up, she caught a glimpse of the gray warrior padding across the clearing with Brook and Squirrelflight, bringing prey for the fresh-kill pile.

“Wait here,” she told her father, and bounded out to meet him.

She caught up to Stormfur as he deposited his fresh-kill on the pile. “I want you to come and talk to Firestar,” she meowed. “I think he needs you. He… he is trying to decide whether he should appoint a new deputy or keep waiting for Graystripe to come back.”

Stormfur hesitated, confusion clouding his eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. “Will you be okay?” he asked Brook.

The Tribe cat nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Sure she will,” Squirrelflight added. “We’ll go to the clearing and practice some fighting moves.”

Stormfur waited until the two she-cats were heading out of camp again, then fell in beside Leafpool as she padded back to her den. Firestar was still sitting in the bracken, his eyes unfocused.

“Graystripe was the first Clan cat I ever met,” he meowed absently. “He jumped on me when I strayed out of my house-folk’s garden. I’d heard tales of the wild cats that lived in the forest, but I’d never seen one. No cat ever had a better friend.”

“Or a better father.” With a glance at Leafpool to show he understood exactly what was going on, Stormfur went to sit beside Firestar. “If he were still alive, not even StarClan could stop him from coming to find us.”

“Not if Twolegs have kept him shut up somewhere,” Firestar argued. “I won’t believe that I’ll never see him again.”

Stormfur rested the tip of his tail on Firestar’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard. I want Graystripe to be alive as much as any cat, but life has to go on.”

For a long moment Firestar was silent. Then he turned his head to look directly at Stormfur. “Do you think I should appoint another deputy?”

Stormfur met his gaze. “You must do whatever you think best,” he began. “But I know one thing. Nothing meant more to Graystripe than your friendship and his Clan. Even when he was in RiverClan, he longed to go home. He would want to see ThunderClan as strong as it could possibly be, even if that meant accepting that he’s not coming back.”

Leafpool thought her heart would break. It was so, so hard to imagine that Graystripe was dead.

Firestar let out a long sigh. “You’re just like him, you know,” he told Stormfur.

Pride glowed in Stormfur’s eyes. “I wish I could believe it.

But I’ll never be half the warrior my father was.” Then he twitched his ears and sat straighter, as if dismissing his dark thoughts. “I’m sorry, Firestar,” he meowed. “Brook and I have made things difficult for you. We never intended to stay in ThunderClan forever.”

“I know,” Firestar responded, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I know you have loyalties elsewhere, but until the time is right for you to return to the Tribe, this is your Clan.”

Stormfur bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Firestar rose to his paws. For a heartbeat, he rested his muzzle on Stormfur’s head, as if he were appointing a new warrior. Then he arched his back in a long stretch and padded out into the clearing.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”

Firestar’s yowl rang out confidently but Leafpool knew how much this must be hurting him. She and Stormfur followed him out past the screen of brambles. The sun was going down, filling the stone hollow with bloodred light.

Firestar stood in the center, his pelt blazing, waiting for his Clan to gather. He had come down from the Highledge to face their challenge; he stayed with them now to share their grief at what he had to say.

Leafpool watched the cats gather from around the clearing. Brambleclaw was first to emerge from the warriors’ den, followed closely by Dustpelt, Cloudtail, and Brightheart.

Ashfur got up from the fresh-kill pile and stood at the back.

Brackenfur and Ferncloud both appeared from the nursery, while Daisy remained in the entrance with her kits. The two apprentices joined their mentors. The elders padded out of their den beneath the hazel bush; Goldenflower was limping as she guided Longtail, and Leafpool guiltily remembered the poultice she had yet to deliver.

Last of all, Squirrelflight and Brook shot in through the thorn tunnel and raced across to Leafpool and Stormfur.

“We heard Firestar call from the clearing,” Squirrelflight panted. “What’s going on?”

“Listen,” was all Leafpool could reply, too sick at heart to explain.

Firestar waited until the whole Clan was gathered around him. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began, “the day has come that I never wanted to see. You all know that Graystripe was lost to us when Twolegs trapped him in the old forest. Since then I’ve tried to believe that he was still alive, and that he’d come back to us one day. But now…”

His voice faltered, and he stood a moment with his head bowed before going on. Then he straightened up again and his voice was steadier.

“I have to face the fact that ThunderClan can’t go on any longer without a deputy.” He looked up at the darkening sky, where a single warrior of StarClan had appeared, right above the hollow. “Graystripe is dead.”

For a heartbeat the Clan was silent; Leafpool could hear nothing but the faint rustling of the trees. The ThunderClan warriors looked at one another, eyes stunned with grief. Then a soft murmur rose, of compassion and acceptance. Leafpool saw several cats, including Mousefur, nodding with sad approval. They believed Firestar was right. He had their support again, but Leafpool knew what the cost had been to him.

“Tonight we will sit vigil for Graystripe,” Firestar went on.

“And before moonhigh I will appoint the new deputy.”

The last of the daylight rippled on the cats’ fur as they moved into the center of the clearing and crouched down.

Leafpool almost felt as if she could see Graystripe’s powerful gray body lying in the midst of them.

“He was my mentor,” Brackenfur meowed. “I learned more from him than from any cat.”