Erin Hunter - The Darkest Hour

“None if us will.” Firestar’s ears twitched in agreement. “There’s no hope for any of us while Scourge is in the forest.”

Firestar had said good-bye to Ravenpaw and Barley and was heading for the sandy hollow to check up on the training program when he spotted Longtail and Frostfur leaping down the ravine. Firestar paused and waited for them.

“Any news?” he asked.

Lo n g tail nodded. “We’ve been along the ShadowClan border as far as Fourtrees,” he reported. “There’s a reek of BloodClan coming from ShadowClan territory. You get the foul stink in your nose even from across the Thunderpath.”

“They must be hiding out over there,” Frostfur added.

“That makes sense,” Firestar mewed thoughtfully. “But where has ShadowClan gone?”

“I was coming to that.” Longtail’s eyes were wide with excitement. “We picked up their scent at Fourtrees—the scent of many cats traveling in the same direction. I believe they crossed into RiverClan territory.”

“So they went to their allies in RiverClan,” Firestar mused. He wondered what sort of a welcome they would get. Would Leopardstar try to regain her old authority now that Tigerstar was dead?

Firestar shrugged. He had problems enough of his own without worrying about Leopardstar’s. “Thanks, Longtail,” he meowed. “We needed to know that. Go and get something to eat.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, Longtail led the way into the gorse tunnel with Frostfur close behind him. Firestar stood watching them go, and when the tip of Frostfur’s tail had vanished he went on to watch his cats training.

Graystripe was standing on a jutting slab of rock overlooking the apprentices. He pricked his ears in greeting as Firestar came to join him.

“How is it going?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Graystripe replied. “If Scourge could see us, he’d bolt straight back to Twolegplace with his tail between his legs.”

The gray warrior was wearing a look of stubborn determination that Firestar remembered from the days of his forbidden relationship with Silverstream. Briefly he wished that he could tell Graystripe about seeing Silverstream in his dream at the Moonstone, but it wouldn’t help his friend’s grief. The beautiful she-cat was still dead, and Firestar hoped it would be a long time before Graystripe joined her in the ranks of StarClan.

“At any rate,” Graystripe went on, “we’re the best fighting force this forest has ever seen.” His eyes widened as his gaze fell on a mock fight between Bramblepaw and Thornclaw. “Hang on a minute, I need to give Bramblepaw a tip about his clawing action.”

He leaped down from the rock and bounded across the hollow, leaving Firestar to look around. Closest to him, Speckletail and Smallear were stalking around each other, waiting for a chance to spring. Sandstorm was instructing Willowpelt’s three kits on the other side of the hollow. Firestar padded down to watch and he heard her meowing, “Okay, I’m a BloodClan warrior and I’ve just broken into your camp. What are you going to-“

The last word became a screech as Sorrelkit pounced and bit down hard on her tail. Sandstorm spun around, one forepaw raised with claws sheathed, but before she could bat Sorrelkit away, Sootkit and Rainkit jumped on her from behind. The ginger she-cat vanished under a writhing mass of kits.

By the time Firestar reached her, she was struggling free of them, her green eyes alight with laughter. “Well done!” she meowed. “If I really was from BloodClan, I’d be running scared by now.” Turning to Firestar, she added, “Hi, there. Did you see these three? In a few moons they’ll make great warriors!”

“I’m sure they will,” Firestar mewed. “You’re doing very well,” he praised them. “And no cat could teach you better than Sandstorm.”

“I want Sandstorm to be my mentor when I’m an apprentice,” Sorrelkit meowed. “Can she, Firestar?”

“No, I want her!” Sootkit protested.

Rainkit added, “No, I do!”

Shaking her head, Sandstorm let out a mrrow of laughter. “Firestar will decide who your mentors will be,” she told the kits. “Now let him see you practice those defensive moves.”

Firestar watched while the kits scuffled together, pretending to attack and defend themselves. Even though they were excited, they managed to remember what Sandstorm had taught them, dodging expertly or dashing in to give their mock attacker a quick nip.

“They’re good,” Sandstorm commented quietly. “Especially that little Sorrelkit.” With a sidelong glance at Firestar, she added, “If you asked me to mentor her, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Just between you and me, she’s yours when the time comes,” Firestar promised, blinking gently at her.

Even though he and Sandstorm, the kits, and all the Clan were standing on the brink of disaster, Firestar still could not suppress a burst of pride and hope. Pressing his muzzle against Sandstorm’s side, he murmured, “We’ll win the battle. I have to believe that.”

Sandstorm did not reply in words, but the look she gave him said everything.

Leaving her to go on with her lesson, Firestar crossed the hollow to the far side, where Cloudtail and Brightheart were training with Ashpaw and Dustpelt. Brightheart had just bowled Dustpelt over; he got up, spitting out sand, and meowed, “I never saw that move coming! Show me again.”

Brightheart dropped into a crouch, but relaxed a moment later when she saw Firestar.

Cloudtail padded over to him, his tail held high. “Did you see that?” he asked proudly. “Brightheart fights really well now.”

“Carry on,” Firestar prompted her. “This looks interesting.”

Brightheart flashed him a nervous look from her one good eye, and then turned back to concentrate. Dustpelt was trying to creep up on her blind side, but she weaved back and forth, keeping him in view the whole time. When he sprang, she slipped under his outstretched paws and hit his back legs to roll him onto the ground again.

“I see why you’re called Dustpelt,” Cloudtail joked as the brown warrior got up again, shaking his fur.

“Well done, Brightheart,” Firestar called.

He twitched his ears to draw Cloudtail a little way away. “I hoped you’d be here,” he meowed quietly. “I’m going to see Princess, and I thought you might want to come too.”

Cloudtail’s ears pricked. “Are you going to warn her?”

“Yes. With BloodClan on the prowl, she should know of the danger. I know she doesn’t often go into the forest, but even so…”

“I’ll be right with you,” Cloudtail meowed, padding back for a word with Brightheart.

A moment later the two cats were heading for Tallpines, Firestar calling good-bye to Graystripe as they left the hollow. The pale sunlight of leaf-bare fell on the ash that still remained from the fire. The few plants that had returned were dry and shriveled, and there was neither sound nor scent of prey. This leaf-bare would have been hard enough, Firestar reflected, without the extra trouble from BloodClan.

When they reached the Twoleg nest where Princess lived, Firestar was relieved to see the pretty tabby she-cat sitting on the garden fence. She let out a trill of welcome as he raced across the open ground at the edge of the forest and leaped up onto the fence beside her. Cloudtail followed him in a couple of heartbeats.

Fireheart!” Princess exclaimed, pressing her muzzle against his flank. “And Cloudtail! It’s so good to see you both. Are you well?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Firestar replied.

“He’s Clan leader now,” Cloudtail put in. “You have to call him Fire star .”

“C l an leader? That’s wonderful!” Princess let out a deep, delighted purr. Firestar knew she was proud of him even though she had no real understanding of what that meant—either the grief of Bluestar’s death or the heavyweight of responsibility that went with leadership. “I’m so pleased for you,” Princess went on. “But you’re both very thin,” she added doubtfully, drawing back to inspect her brother and her son. “Are you eating properly?”