Erin Hunter - The Darkest Hour

It was hard to answer that question. Firestar and all the Clan cats were used to feeling hungry in this hard leaf-bare, but Princess had no way of knowing how scarce prey was, not when her Twolegs fed her the same kittypet food every day.

“We’re doing well enough,” Cloudtail repeated impatiently, before Firestar could reply. “But we came to tell you to stay out of the forest. There are evil cats around.”

Firestar flashed an irritated look at his hoth eaded kin; he would have tried to find a gentler way of warning Princess. “Cats from Twolegplace have come into the forest,” he explained, pressing himself comfortingly against Princess’s side. “They’re fierce creatures, but they should leave you alone.”

“I’ve seen them slinking through the trees,” Princess admitted, her voice hushed. “And I’ve heard stories about them. Apparently they even kill dogs and other cats.”

The tales were true, Firestar reflected, remembering the teeth studding Scourge’s collar. And before very long, there would be more deaths to Scourge’s name.

“All good storytellers exaggerate,” he told Princess, hoping he sounded convincing. “You don’t need to worry, but it would be best if you stayed in your own garden.”

Princess held his gaze steadily, and Firestar realized that for once she wasn’t deceived by his lighthearted tone. “I’ll do that,” she promised. “And I’ll warn the other house cats.”

“Good.” Cloudtail meowed. “And don’t worry about a thing. We’ll soon get rid of BloodClan.”

“BloodClan!” Princess echoed, and a shiver passed through her. “Firestar, you’re in danger, aren’t you?”

Firestar nodded, suddenly unwilling to treat her like a soft kittypet who couldn’t cope with the truth. “Yes,” he replied. “BloodClan have given us three days to get out of the forest. We don’t intend to leave, so that means we have to fight them.”

Princess went on giving him that long, thoughtful look. The tip of her tail swept around and touched a scar on his flank, an old wound from a battle so long ago that he had forgotten which one it was. Firestar had a sudden vision of how he must appear to her: gaunt and ragged in spite of his lean muscles, his battle-marked pelt a constant reminder of the harshness of his forest life.

“I know you’ll do your best,” she mewed quietly. “The Clan couldn’t have a better leader.”

“I hope you’re right,” Firestar meowed. “This is the worst threat to the Clan that we’ve ever had to face.”

“And you’ll come through it; I know you will.” Princess rasped her tongue over his ear and pressed close against him. Firestar smelled her fear-scent, but she stayed calm, and her gentle features were unusually serious. “Come back safely, Firestar,” she whispered. “Please.”

After they said good-bye to Princess, Cloudtail went off to hunt, leaving Firestar to return to the camp alone. Twilight was gathering by the time he reached the ravine, and he scented Whitestorm before he spotted the pale warrior ahead of him. Firestar caught up to him just before he reached the gorse tunnel; he had a vole clamped in his jaws, and set it down when he saw Firestar.

“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.