Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER FIRESTAR — handsome ginger tom.

APPRENTICE, BRAMBLEPAW

DEPUTY WHITESTORM— big white tom.

MEDICINE APPRENTICE, CINDERPELT — dark gray she-cat.

CATS        JAYFEATHER— gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

WARRIORS (toms, and she-cats without kits)

SWEETMINT — tortoiseshell she-cat

GOLDENFLOWER—pale ginger coat

NIGHTHUNTER — black she-cat 

FROSTFUR— beautiful white coat and blue eyes.

APPRENTICE, REDPAW

BRINDLEFACE— pretty tabby.

APPRENTICE, ROBINPAW

OWLTUFT — brown tabby tom

APPRENTICE, FERNPAW

NEEDLENOSE — tortoiseshell she-cat with a thin stripe down her muzzle and nose

NUTFUR — light brown she-cat

DARKSTRIPE — sleek black-and-gray tabby tom.

LONGTAIL — pale tabby tom with dark black stripes.

RUNNINGWIND— swift tabby tom.

MOUSEFUR — small dusky brown she-cat.

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat

LIONBLAZE— golden tabby tom with amber eyes

CINDERHEART— gray tabby she-cat

DUSTPELT — dark brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, ASHPAW

SWIFTBLADE — black-and-white tom.

APPRENTICE, HOLLYPAW

LIGHTFROST — gray-and-white tom

APPRENTICE, TAWNYPAW

BRACKENFUR — golden brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, SNOWPAW

BRIGHTHEART — white she-cat with ginger splotches

THORNCLAW — golden-brown tabby tom

CLOUDTAIL—long-haired white tom, blue eyes

TULIPLEAF—pale gray tom with darker flecks, amber eyes

SURGE — light gray-and-ginger she-cat with white patches and yellow eyes

IVYPOOL— silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes

DOVEWING— pale gray she-cat with green eyes

APPRENTICE, HONEYPAW

HOLLYLEAF—black she-cat with green eyes

FALLEN LEAVES—scrawny, sleek, ginger-and-white patched tom with green eyes.

APPRENTICES (more than six moons old, in training to become warriors)

ASHPAW—pale gray tom with darker flecks, dark blue eyes

FERNPAW—pale gray she-cat with darker flecks, pale green eyes

ROBINPAW—black she-cat with a ginger chest and underbelly and dark brown eyes

REDPAW—dark ginger tom with brown eyes

HOLLYPAW— she-cat with fluffy black fur and golden eyes

HONEYPAW— yellow-furred tom with thin gray patches and blue eyes

BRAMBLEPAW—dark brown tabby tom, with amber eyes

TAWNYPAW—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

SNOWPAW—white tom with blue eyes

QUEENS (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

WILLOWPELT — very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes, mother to Sorrelkit, Rainkit, and Sootkit.

SANDSTORM — pale ginger she-cat, mother to Leafkit, Squirrelkit, and Yellowkit.

ELDERS (former warriors and queens, now retired)

SMALLEAR — gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in ThunderClan.

PATCHPELT — small black-and-white tom.

ONE-EYE — pale gray she-cat, Virtually blind and deaf. 

DAPPLETAIL — once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

SPECKLETAIL — pale tabby

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER TIGERCLAW — big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws, formerly of ThunderClan

DEPUTY STRIPESTALK — black-and-white she-cat

APPRENTICE, ROWANPAW

MEDICINE RUNNINGNOSE — small gray-and-white tom.

LITTLECLOUD—very small tabby tom

CATS

WARRIORS 

BRIGHTFLOWER— black-and-white she-cat

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

APPRENTICE, BROWNPAW

FERNSHADE — tortoiseshell she-cat

DEERFOOT — light brown tom

FLINTFANG—older gray tom

ROWANBERRY—brown-and-cream she-cat

APPRENTICE, WHITEPAW

RUSSETFUR—dark ginger she-cat

APPRENTICE, CEDARPAW

BOULDER— silver tabby tom.

BLACKFOOT — large white tom with huge jet-black paws.

CLAWFACE — battle-scarred brown tom.

STUMPYTAIL — brown tabby tom.

TANGLEBURR—gray-and-brown she-cat

JAGGEDTOOTH—a huge, thick-furred, ginger tabby tom with amber eyes, and a broad head

NIGHTWHISPER—scrawny, sleek, brown tom with green eyes and a distinctive, pointed muzzle.

JETSTALKER—a black tom with blue eyes

SCRATCHFLIGHT—a brown tabby tom with green eyes and a black paw

APPLEFUR—mottled brown she-cat

SCORCHFUR—dark gray tom

REDWILLOW—mottled brown-and-ginger tom

WETFOOT—gray tabby tom

APPRENTICE, NIGHTPAW

WHITETHROAT—black tom with white chest and paws

VOLEWHISPER—small light brown tom with yellow eyes and a scarred left hind leg

OAKFUR—small brown tom

MARIGOLDLEAF—tortoiseshell she-cat

MINTSHADE—gray tom

QUEENS 

TALLPOPPY — long-legged light brown tabby she-cat.

ELDERS

ASHFUR — thin gray tom.

DAWNCLOUD— small tabby.

DARKFLOWER — black she-cat

WINDCLAN

LEADER TALLSTAR — a black-and-white tom with a very long tail.

DEPUTY DEADFOOT — a black tom with a twisted paw.

MEDICINE BARKFACE — a short-tailed brown tom.

CAT 

WARRIORS

PIGEONFLIGHT — a dark gray tom with white patches.

SORRELSHINE — a gray-and-brown she-cat.

WRENFLIGHT — a brown she-cat.

FLYTAIL — a snowy-white tom.

RABBITEAR — a pale brown she-cat with a fluffy white belly and yellow eyes.

BRISTLEBARK — a black tom.

MUDCLAW — a mottled dark brown tom.

TORNEAR— a tabby tom.

ONEWHISKER— a young brown tabby tom.

APPRENTICE, GORSEPAW

MORNINGFLOWER — a tortoiseshell she-cat

HEATHERTAIL—light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes

FURZEPELT—gray-and-white she-cat

RUNNINGBROOK—light gray tabby she-cat

WEBFOOT—dark gray tabby tom

TAWNYFUR— golden brown she-cat

WHITETAIL— small white she-cat

EAGLESTORM—gray tom

QUEENS

ASHFOOT — a gray she-cat

ELDERS

STAGLEAP — a dark brown tom with amber eyes.

DOESPRING — light brown she-cat.

RYESTALK — gray tabby she-cat with amber eyes.

BRACKENDUST — brown tabby tom with brown eyes.

CROWFUR – black tom with a silver muzzle

RIVERCLAN

LEADER LEOPARDSTAR — unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat.

DEPUTY MOSSLIGHT — a gray-and-white she-cat

WARRIORS 

BLACKCLAW— smoky black tom. 

SWANSOAR — silver tabby

APPRENTICE, ROBINPAW

STONEFUR — a gray tom with battle-scarred ears.

APPRENTICE, STORMPAW

MISTYFOOT — dark gray she-cat

APPRENTICE, FEATHERPAW

LOUDBELLY — a dark brown tom.

MOSSPELT — tortoiseshell she-cat

APPRENTICE, PIKEPAW

MINNOWSCALE — dark gray she-cat

APPRENTICE, PRIMROSEPAW

WILLOWMIST — smoky black she-cat.

APPRENTICE, REEDPAW

WHITECLAW — a dark brown tom with white paws and amber eyes.

APPRENTICE, WOODPAW

HEAVYSTEP — thickset tabby tom

APPRENTICE, DAWNPAW

SHADEPELT — very dark gray she-cat

MINNOWTAIL—dark gray she-cat

MOSSYFOOT—brown-and-white she-cat

LONGTOOTH—pale brown tom with a darker brown around the top and back of his head

ICERUNNER—white she-cat with golden patches

QUEENS

MISTYFOOT — dark gray she-cat, mother to Perchkit, Pikekit, Primrosekit, and Reedkit.

SILVERSTREAM — a pretty slender silver tabby, mother to Stormkit and Featherkit

ELDERS 

GRAYPOOL — thin gray she-cat with patchy fur and a scarred muzzle

BLOODCLAN

LEADER SCOURGE—ginger tom with green eyes

DEPUTY BONE—massive black-and-white tom

STRIKERS

CANDY— silver-and-black she-cat

CANE— silver-and-black tom

SLICE—black she-cat with a scar down one leg

CRUSHER—dark ginger tom

FLANK—pale brown tabby tom

HONOR GUARD

SPIKE—gray tom

SNAKE—black-and-white tom

ICE—black-and-white tom

HEALER’S GROUP

LEADER SCORCH—small black tom with one white paw and ice-blue eyes.

DEPUTY VIOLET—pale orange tabby she-cat with thin, darker orange stripes and white paws

HEALERS FOG—white she-cat with a brown-and-ginger forehead and green eyes

              DRIFT—silver tabby she-cat with gray eyes

DEFENDERS

SPIN — gray-and-white tom with blue eyes

DOTTIE — brown tabby she-cat

PETE — brown tabby tom with a white underbelly, white paws, and a thick white ring around his neck, green-yellow eyes, distinct dark brown M on forehead

REPETE — brown tabby tom with a white chest and green-yellow eyes, distinct dark brown M on forehead

PEPPERMINT — tom whose front half is white and back half and tail are black, black patch on forehead, yellow eyes

CJ — dark gray tom with yellow eyes

ZACH — ginger-and-white tom

TAYLOR — ginger-and-white tom

MOLLY — silver she-cat

MOXIE — gray-and-cream-furred she-cat with amber eyes

MYLA — calico she-cat with yellow-green eyes

MOCHA — calico she-cat with orange-yellow eyes

GREMLIN — patchy black, white, and tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

DUSK — dark brown tabby tom with brown eyes

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

BARLEY — black-and-white tom who lives on a farm close to the forest.

RAVENPAW — sleek black cat with a white-tipped tail who lives on the farm with Barley. 

PRINCESS — light brown tabby with a distinctive white chest and paws — a kittypet.

OLIVER — a fluffy white tom with brilliant blue eyes

SMUDGE — plump, friendly black-and-white tom who lives in a house at the edge of the forest.

Chapter Text

Rain fell steadily, drumming on the hard black Thunderpath that led between unending rows of stone Twoleg nests. From time to time a monster snarled past, its eyes glaring, and a single Twoleg scurried along, huddled into its shiny pelt.

Two cats slipped silently around the corner, keeping close to the walls where the shadows were deepest. A skinny gray tom with a ragged ear and bright, watchful eyes went first, every hair on his body slicked dark with the wet.

Behind him prowled a huge tabby with massive shoulders and muscles that slid smoothly under his rain-soaked pelt. His amber eyes glowed in the harsh light, and his gaze shifted back and forth as if he expected an attack.

He paused where the dark entrance to a Twoleg nest offered a little shelter and growled, “How much farther? This place stinks.”

The gray tom glanced back. “Not far now.”

“It had better not be.” Grimacing, the dark brown tabby padded on, ears twitching irritably to flick away the raindrops. Harsh yellow light angled across him, and he flinched as a monster roared around the comer, throwing up a wave of filthy water that reeked of Twoleg rubbish. The cat let out a snarl as the water slopped around his paws and the spray drizzled down on his fur.

Everything about the Twolegplace disgusted him: the hard surface under his paws, the stench of monsters and the Twolegs they carried in their bellies, the unfamiliar noises, and most of all, the way that he could not survive here without a guide. The tabby was not used to depending on another cat for anything. In the forest he knew every tree, every stream, every rabbit hole. He was considered the strongest and most dangerous warrior in all the Clans. Now his sharpened skills and senses were useless. He felt as if he were deaf, blind, and lame, reduced to following his companion like a kit trailing helplessly after its mother.

But it would be worth it. The tabby’s whiskers twitched in anticipation. He had already launched a plan that would turn his most hated enemies into helpless prey in their own territory. When the dogs attacked, no cat would suspect that they had been lured and guided every step of the way. And then, if things went according to plan, this expedition into Twolegplace would give him all he had ever wanted.

The gray cat led the way along the path and across an open space reeking of Twoleg monsters, where a swirl of color from unnatural orange lights floated on the puddles. He stopped by the entrance to a narrow alley and opened his jaws to draw in the scent of the air.

The tabby halted and did the same, disgustedly swiping his tongue over his lips at the stink of rotting Twoleg food. “Is this the place?” he asked.

“This is it,” the gray warrior replied tensely. “Now — remember what I told you. The cat we’re going to meet holds command over many cats. We must treat him with respect.”

“Boulder, have you forgotten who I am?” The tabby took a step forward so that he towered over his companion.

The skinny gray cat’s ears flattened. “No, Tigerstar, I haven’t forgotten. But you’re not Clan leader here.”

Tigerstar grunted. “Let’s get on with it,” he growled.

Boulder turned into the alley. He stopped short after just a few paces when a huge shape loomed up in front of them.

“Who goes there?” A broad-shouldered black and white cat stepped out of the shadows. Strong muscles were outlined under fur plastered to his body by the rain. “Identify yourselves. We don’t like strangers here.”

“Greetings, Bone,” the gray warrior meowed steadily. “Remember me?”

The black-and-white cat narrowed his eyes and was silent for a few moments. “So you’ve come back, have you, Boulder?” he meowed at last. “You told us you were going to find a better life in the forest. What are you doing here?”

He took a step forward, but Boulder held his ground, unsheathing his claws against the uneven ground. “We want to see Scourge.”

Bone let out a snort, half contempt, half laughter. “I can’t imagine that Scourge will want to see you. And who’s this with you? I don’t recognize him.”

“My name is Tigerstar. I’ve come from the forest to speak with your leader.”

Bone’s green eyes flicked from Tigerstar to Boulder and back again. “What do you want with him?” he demanded.

Tigerstar’s amber gaze burned like the Twoleg lights reflected on the shining wet stones around them. “I’ll discuss that with your leader, not his border patrol.”

Bone bristled and extended his claws, but Boulder quickly slipped between him and Tigerstar. “Scourge needs to hear this,” he insisted. “It could be to every cat’s advantage.”

For a few heartbeats Bone hesitated, and then he stepped back, allowing Boulder and Tigerstar to pass. His hostile glare scorched their fur, but he said nothing.

Now Tigerstar took the lead, treading cautiously as the light faded behind then. On either side, skinny cats were slinking behind piles of rubbish, eyes gleaming as they followed the progress of the two intruders. Tigerstar’s muscles tensed. If this meeting went wrong, he might have to fight his way out.

A wall blocked the end of the alley. Tigerstar stared around, looking for the leader of these cats of Twolegplace. He was expecting an even more massive creature than the broad-shouldered Bone, and at first his gaze swept over the fiery ginger cat crouching in a shadowy doorway.

Boulder gave him a nudge and jerked his head in the ginger cat’s direction. “There’s Scourge.”

Fury shot through Tigerstar as he stared at the ginger tom. “That’s Scourge?” Tigerstar’s exclamation rang with disbelief above the falling rain. “Why does he look like the kittypet!?”

“Shh!” Panic flared in Boulder’s eyes. “This may not be a Clan as we know it, but these cats would kill if their leader ordered them to. Believe me when I tell you that this cat is nothing like Fireheart.”

“It seems I have visitors.” The ginger cat’s voice had a smooth, calm sound, like the gentle lapping of the river. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again, Boulder. I heard you’d gone to live in the forest.”

“Yes, Scourge, I have,” Boulder replied.

“So what are you doing here?” Scourge’s voice held the faintest suggestion of a snarl. “Have you changed your mind and come crawling back? Do you expect me to welcome you?”

“No, Scourge.” Boulder held the ginger cat’s ice-blue gaze. “It’s a good life in the forest. There is plenty of fresh-kill, no Twolegs-”

“You haven’t come to extol the virtues of forest life,” Scourge interrupted him with a flick of his tail. “Squirrels live in trees, not cats.” His eyes narrowed, glinting with a pale fire. “So what do you want?”

Tigerstar stepped forward, shouldering the gray warrior aside. “I am Tigerstar, the leader of ShadowClan,” he growled. “And I have a proposition for you.”

*  *  *  *  *

When Scourge agreed to help Tigerstar, and the ShadowClan leader slunk away from Twolegplace, a small gray-and-cream she-cat slipped away amongst the excitement of BloodClan’s discussion.

She quickly made her way to the place where her own cats met, a small courtyard with a fountain and a large statue of some Twoleg. Most of the other cats were there, having been summoned in advance as soon as she went to spy on Scourge and Tigerstar.

The group’s leader, Scorch, a tom with black fur and one white paw, nodded to her when she arrived. “Moxie,” he meowed seriously, “what did you learn?”

Moxie took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts, before quickly summarizing the conversation between the two leaders. “Tigerstar thinks he successfully allied himself with Scourge,” she finished. “He has no idea that he’s going to betray him.”

“How many cats were at the meeting?” a silver tabby she-cat with gray eyes asked.

“Most of BloodClan was there, Drift,” Moxie answered promptly. “Although the honor guard was nowhere to be found. I’m not sure why they missed the meeting.”

A heartbeat later, two toms with white fur and ginger patches that mirrored each other burst into the courtyard.

“We lost them!” one of the toms announced, panting.

“Zach,” Scorch meowed, “are you and Taylor all right?”

“Fine,” Zach promised. “Just a bit winded from luring the honor guard away so Moxie could spy without getting caught.”

Taylor smirked. “We led them all the way to Mistpaw’s fence. They were not amused.”

A pale orange tabby she-cat with thin, darker orange stripes and white paws nodded approvingly. “You did well to bring them there.”

“Violet is right,” a fluffy black she-cat meowed. “I know from the stories I heard as a kit just how dangerous BloodClan is.”

“And this BloodClan is different, is it not, Healer?” Scorch mewed, a searching tone in his voice.

Healer nodded. “This BloodClan was formed directly for revenge,” she explained. “When I saved Mistflow from Frost and Flare, they swore revenge on all the Clans. They raised Scourge to hate the Clans and everything they stand for.”

A scrawny, sleek ginger-and-white tom frowned. “It’s unfortunate that the formation of BloodClan seems to be an immutable event. Everything seems to be carrying us straight towards battle.”

“I will fight for the Clans!” a calico she-cat with yellow-green eyes called out.

Another calico sitting next to her agreed, ‘I will fight by my sister to protect every cat.”

“Down with BloodClan and Tigerstar!” a silver she-cat cheered.

The cry was taken up by the other cats. “Down with BloodClan and Tigerstar! Down with BloodClan and Tigerstar!”

Scorch raised his tail for silence. “We are all in agreement then. Good. It is time to prepare. Violet, organize the patrols. I must visit my brother. We must be ready for war.”

Violet dipped her head. “Dottie, take your brothers and scout out our border with BloodClan. Molly, take Myla and Mocha and try to get some hunting in. Zach, Taylor, go see Fog and Drift and make sure that you weren’t injured on your mission.”

Healer drew the ginger-and-white tom to one side. “It’s almost time for me to go back to ThunderClan, Fallen Leaves,” she meowed quietly. “I haven’t seen my brothers in so long.”

“Don’t worry, Hollyleaf,” he assured her. “You won’t be alone. I will be there with you.”

“Are you sure? You can stay here. We both know that as soon as you join a Clan, you’ll lose your immortality. You’ll be able to die like any of the cats from this time.”

Fallen Leaves gazed at her fondly. “I’m not afraid of death,” he said softly. “I spent countless seasons trapped in the tunnels in a state between life and death, and it wasn’t until Jay’s Wing found his way back there that I saw any other cat. Then you fled ThunderClan and suddenly I had a physical body and a new companion. And when Half Moon managed to free me and sent us back here, that was the freest I’ve felt in a long time. I’ve cherished this time with you and our adopted kits, and now grandkids. But if I had to die now, I wouldn’t be upset. I’ve existed, mostly by myself, far longer than any cat ever should.”

Hollyleaf sighed. “I know. I want you to find your family again. But to do that, I have to go back to mine, and it’s not going to be easy.”

Chapter Text

Watery shafts of light sliced through the bare trees as Fireheart carried his leader to her final resting place. With his teeth clenched firmly in her scruff, he retraced the route the dog pack had taken as the brave warriors of ThunderClan lured them to the gorge and their destruction. His whole body felt numb, and his head spun with the terrible realization that Bluestar was dead.

Without his leader, the forest itself seemed different, even stranger to Fireheart than the day he had first ventured into it as a kittypet. No thing was real; he felt as if the trees and rocks could dissolve like mist within a moment. A vast, unnatural silence covered everything. With the rational part of his mind Fireheart realized that all the prey had been scared away by the rampaging dog pack, but in the grip of his grief it seemed that even the forest was stunned into mourning for Bluestar.

The scene at the gorge replayed over and over in his head. He saw again the slavering jaws of the dog who led the pack, and felt its sharp teeth meet in his scruff. He remembered how Bluestar had appeared out of nowhere, flinging herself at the dog, driving it — and herself — over the edge of the gorge and into the river. He flinched again at the icy shock of the water as he leaped in to rescue his drowning leader, and their hopeless struggles until three RiverClan warriors, Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur, came to help then.

Most of all, Fireheart recalled his dismay and disbelief as he crouched beside his leader on the riverbank, and realized that she had sacrificed her last life to save him and all of ThunderClan from the dog pack.

As he bore Bluestar’s body home, with the help of the RiverClan warriors, he kept pausing to scent the air for fresh traces of dog, and he had already sent his friend Graystripe to scout the territory on either side of their trail, searching for signs that the dogs had caught any of the ThunderClan cats in their desperate race for the gorge. So far, to Fireheart’s relief, they had found nothing.

His grandchildren from the future, Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Hollyleaf, along with another time traveler, Fallen Leaves, walked behind them, not speaking. Hollyleaf and Fallen Leaves had secretly been in this time, just like her brothers, but had chosen to keep her presence secret from them. Not only that, but in their time, they’d assumed she was dead, and none of the cats seemed to know what to say to each other.

Now, skirting a bramble thicket, Fireheart set down his lifeless leader once more and raised his head to drink in the air, thankful to taste only the clean scents of the forest. A moment later, Graystripe appeared around a clump of dead bracken.

“Everything’s fine, Fireheart,” he reported. “Plenty of broken undergrowth, but that’s all.”

“Good,” Fireheart meowed. His hope rose that the dogs that had escaped the fall into the gorge had fled in terror, and the forest once again belonged to the four Clans of wild cats. His Clan had lived through three terrible moons, when they had become prey in their own territory, but they had survived. “Let’s keep going. I want to check that the camp is safe before the Clan comes back.”

He and the RiverClan warriors took up Bluestar’s body again and carried it through the trees. At the top of the ravine that led down to the camp entrance, Firestar paused. He briefly remembered the early morning, when he and his warriors had followed the trail of dead rabbits that Tigerstar had laid to lure the dog pack to the ThunderClan camp. At the end of the trail they had found him fighting Brindleface and Robinpaw, trying to slaughter the two she-cats to give the savage dogs a taste for cat blood. But now every thing seemed peaceful, and when Fireheart tasted the air again he could detect only cat scent coming from the camp.

“Wait here,” he meowed. “I’m going to take a look.”

“I’ll come with you,” Graystripe offered instantly.

“No.” It was Stonefur who spoke, flicking out his tail to bar the gray warrior’s way. “I think Fireheart needs to do this alone.”

Flashing a grateful look at the RiverClan warrior, Fireheart began picking his way down the ravine, his ears pricked for any sound of trouble ahead. But the strange silence still reigned over the forest.

As he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the clearing, Fireheart paused to glance warily around. It was possible that one or more of the dogs had never made it to the gorge, or that Tigerstar had sent ShadowClan warriors to take over the camp. But all was quiet. Fireheart’s fur prickled with the strangeness of seeing the camp deserted like this, yet there was no sign of danger, and still no scent of dogs or ShadowClan.

To be sure the camp was safe, he rapidly checked the den s and the nursery. Memories came unbidden: the be wilderment of the Clan as he told then about the dog pack, the heart-pounding terror of the chase through the forest with the breath of the pack leader hot on his fur. At the foot of the Highrock, listening to the wind whispering through the trees, Fireheart thought back to the time Tigerstar had stood her e, boldly facing his Clan as they discovered the true depth of his treachery. He had sworn undying vengeance as he was sent into exile, and Fireheart was sure that his blood thirsty attempt to set the dog pack on the cats of ThunderClan would not be his last attempt to fulfill his oath.

Last of all Fireheart prowled cautiously through the fern tunnel to Cinderpelt’s den. Glancing through the entrance, he saw the medicine cat’s healing herbs neatly ranged beside one wall. The strongest memory yet flooded over him, of Spottedleaf and Yellowfang, who had been ThunderClan medicine cats before Cinderpelt. Fireheart had loved Yellowfang, and both had given their lives for their Clan, and grief for them swept over him again to mingle with his grief for his leader.

Bluestar is dead, he told them silently. Is she with you now, in StarClan?

Retracing his steps along the fern tunnel, he returned to the top of the ravine. Graystripe was standing on watch while Mistyfoot, Stonefur, and Mosslight gently groomed the dead leader’s body. The four time travelers still weren’t speaking. His grandkits especially seemed to be in shock

“Everything’s fine,” Fireheart announced. “Graystripe, I want you to go to Sunningrocks now. Tell the Clan that Bluestar is dead, but nothing more. I’ll explain every thing when I see them. Just let them know that it’s safe to come home.”

Graystripe’s yellow eyes brightened. “On my way, Fireheart.” He spun around and tore off through the forest, heading for Sunningrocks, where the Clan had gone to hide while the dogs were following Tigerstar’s trail of rabbit blood to their camp.

Stonefur, crouching beside Bluestar’s body, let out a purr of amusement. “It’s easy to see where Graystripe’s loyalties he,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed. “No cat ever really thought he would stay in RiverClan.”

Graystripe’s kits had been born to a RiverClan queen, and for a while he had gone to RiverClan to be with them, but in his heart he had never left ThunderClan. Forced into battle against his birth Clan, he had chosen to save Fireheart’s life, and the RiverClan leader Leopardstar had banished him from her Clan. Her sentence of exile, Fireheart reflected, had freed the gray warrior to return to where he truly belonged.

With a nod of acknowledgment to the RiverClan warriors, Fireheart took up Bluestar again, and the four cats maneuvered her body down the ravine and into the camp. At last they could lay her down in her den beneath the Highrock, where she would remain until her Clan had said farewell to her and buried her with all the honor that such a wise and noble leader deserved.

“Thank you for your help,” Fireheart meowed to the RiverClan warriors. Hesitating for a moment, knowing only too well the significance of his invitation, he added, “Would you like to stay for Bluestar’s burial ceremony?”

“That is a generous offer,” Stonefur replied, showing only a flicker of surprise that Fireheart should admit members of a rival Clan to something so private. “But we have duties in our own Clan. We must be getting back.”

“Thank you, Fireheart,” meowed Mistyfoot. “That means a lot to us. But your Clan will think it’s strange if we stay. They don’t know, do they, that Bluestar was our mother?”

“No,” Fireheart told her. “Only Graystripe, and most likely the time travelers. But Tigerstar overheard what you and Bluestar said to each other on. . .on the riverbank. You must be prepared in case he chooses to reveal it at the next Gathering.”

Stonefur and Mistyfoot exchanged a glance. Then Stonefur drew himself up, his blue eyes gleaming defiantly. “Let Tigerstar say what he likes,” he meowed. “I’ll tell RiverClan myself today. We’re not ashamed of our mother. She was a noble leader — and our father was a great deputy.”

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed. “No cat can argue with that, even if they did come from different Clans.”

“I’ll shred any cats who try to claim otherwise,” Mosslight growled.

Their courage and determination reminded Fireheart of their mother, Bluestar. She had given them up to their father, Oakheart, the RiverClan deputy, and two of the three cats had grown up believing that they had been born in RiverClan. At first they had hated Bluestar when they learned the truth, but this morning, as she lay dying on the riverbank, they had found it in their hearts to forgive her. In the midst of his pain, Fireheart was relieved beyond words that his leader had been reconciled with her kits before she went to StarClan. He alone of all the ThunderClan cats knew how much Bluestar had suffered, watching them grow up in another Clan.

“I wish we’d known her better,” Stonefur meowed sadly, as if he could read Fireheart’ s thoughts. “You’re lucky to have grown up in her Clan and been her deputy.”

“I know.” Fireheart looked down sorrowfully at the blue-gray she-cat lying so still on the sandy floor of the clearing. Bluestar looked small and helpless now that her noble spirit had left her body and gone to hunt with StarClan.

“May we say good-bye to her alone?” Mistyfoot asked tentatively. “Just for a few moments?”

“Of course,” Fireheart replied. He padded out of the den, leaving Stonefur, Mosslight, and Mistyfoot to crouch down beside Bluestar’s body and share tongues with their mother for the first and last time.

As he skirted the Highrock he heard the sound of cats approaching through the gorse tunnel. Hurrying forward, he saw Frostfur and Speckletail creep timidly into the clearing, hesitating in the shelter of the tunnel before they dared venture back into the camp. With the same wariness, Brackenfur and Goldenflower followed.

Pain stabbed Fireheart’s heart to see his cats so wary of their own home, and his eyes sought out one warrior in particular — Sandstorm, the pale ginger she-cat he loved. He needed to know that she and their kits were unhurt.

Fireheart spotted his nephew, Cloudtail; the white warrior was carefully carrying Squirrelkit by the scruff, annoyance in his eyes as the little she-cat struggled in his grip. Cloudtail’s mate, Brightheart, carried Leafkit, who was very cooperative. Fireheart couldn’t help but think that he’d never have to worry about any trouble caused by her. Next Cinderpelt came limping through the entrance with a bundle of herbs in her mouth; and pushing eagerly behind her were Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, two of newest apprentices, who were also Tigerstar’s kits. They were followed by Lionblaze’s kits, Honeypaw and Hollypaw.

Runningwind was helping Cinderheart and Dovewing carry the comatose Ivypool.

At last Fireheart saw Sandstorm, carrying a very calm Yellowkit, padding along beside Willowpelt, while Willowpelt’s three kits bounced around them, happily unaware of the crisis their Clan had endured.

A purr swelled in Fireheart’s throat as he ran toward Sandstorm and pressed his muzzle into her flank. The pale orange warrior set their son down gently on the ground before she covered his ears with licks, and when he looked up at her he saw a warm glow in her green eyes.

“I was so worried for you, Fireheart,” she murmured. “I didn’t know the size of those dogs! I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“Nor have I,” Fireheart confessed. “All the time I was waiting, I kept thinking they ignored our trail and might have caught you.”

“Caught me?” Sandstorm pushed away from him; the end of her tail was twitching, and for a heartbeat Fireheart thought he had offended her, until he saw the sparkle in her eyes. “They never came near Sunningrocks. StarClan protected us!”

She paced into the center of the clearing and looked around, her expression clouding. “Where is Bluestar? Graystripe told us she was dead.”

“Yes,” Fireheart replied. “I tried to save her, but the struggle in the river was too much for her. She’s in her d en.” He hesitated before adding, “Mosslight, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur are with her.”

Sandstorm turned to him, her fur bristling with alarm. “There are RiverClan cats in our camp? Why?”

“They helped me pull Bluestar out of the river,” Fireheart explained. “And. . .and she’s their mother.”

Sandstorm froze and her eyes grew huge. "I'd forgotten. So much has happened since we found out.”

Fireheart comforted her by pressing his muzzle against hers. “We can talk about it later,” he promised. “Right now I have to make sure the Clan is okay.”

While they were speaking, the rest of the Clan had appeared through the gorse tunnel and begun to gather in a ragged circle around Fireheart and Sandstorm. Fireheart spotted Fernpaw and Ashpaw, the two apprentices who had begun the race to lure the dogs away from the camp. “Well done, both of you,” he meowed.

The young cats let out a purr. “We hid in the hazel thicket where you told us, and jumped out as soon as we saw the dogs,” mewed Ashpaw.

“Yes, we knew we had to keep them away from the camp,” Fernpaw put in.

“You were very brave,” Fireheart praised them. Once again he remembered the moment he had seen Brindleface and Robinpaw fighting Tigerstar. “I’m proud of you — and your mother is proud, too.”

Ashpaw shrank, suddenly looking like a fragile kit. “I was terrified ,” he admitted. “If we’d known what the dogs were like, I don’t think we’d have dared to do it.”

“We were all terrified,” Dustpelt meowed as he came up and gave Ashpaw a gentle lick. “I’ve never run so fast in my life. You two did brilliantly.”

Fireheart managed to hide his amusement. The brown tabby warrior could be gruff and irritable, but he always made sure to be more gentle with the apprentices, especially his own.

“You did well, too, Dustpelt,” Fireheart meowed. “The Clan owes thanks to all of you. Stripestalk would be proud”

Dustpelt held Fireheart’s gaze for a moment before he gave him a little nod of acknowledgment. Stripestalk was a ThunderClan warrior who had left ThunderClan to spy on Tigerstar and been made deputy of ShadowClan. No one had heard from Stripestalk since before Tigerstar had been leader, and Fireheart just hoped that meant she hadn’t had any information worth sharing with them. As he turned away, Fireheart spotted Cloudtail and Brightheart still gently his daughters past and stopped them to ask, “Are you all okay?”

“I’m fine,” the young she-cat replied, as both warriors set down the kits.

Cloudtail grumbled, “I’d be better if this little one would be more cooperative.”

In response, Squirrelkit glared at him, and Fireheart was struck by the fact that her eyes had opened and were the same shade of green as his own.

“Are you sure none of the dogs got this far?” Brightheart asked quietly.

“I checked the whole camp myself,” Fireheart told her. “There’s no sign of any dogs.”

Cloudtail, touched his muzzle to Brightheart’s shoulder. “She helped me keep watch from a tree.”

Brightheart brightened. “We were going to yowl if any of those mangepelts showed up.”

“Well done,” Fireheart meowed. “You too, Cloudtail. I was right to rely on you.”

“They’ve all done well.” That was Cinderpelt’s voice; Fireheart turned to see her limping toward him with Mousefur just behind her. “There was no panic at all, not even when we heard the pack howling.”

“And every cat’s okay?” Fireheart asked anxiously.

“They’re all fine.” The medicine cat’s blue eyes glowed with relief. “Mousefur tore a claw when she was running from the dogs, but that’s all. Come on, Mousefur, I’ll give you something for it.”

As Fireheart watched them go, he realized that Whitestorm had appeared beside him. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry.” Whitestorm’s eyes were full of anguish. “I know you asked me to take care of Bluestar when we were fleeing from the dogs. But she slipped away from Sunningrocks before I realized she’d gone. It’s my fault she’s dead.”

Fireheart narrowed his eyes at the older warrior. For the first time he noticed how exhausted he looked. Although Whitestorm was one of the senior warrior of ThunderClan, he had always seemed strong and vigorous, his white coat sleek and well-groomed. Now he looked a hundred seasons older than the cat who had left camp that morning.

“That’s ridiculous!” Fireheart insisted. “Even if you had noticed that Bluestar had gone, what could you have done? She was your leader — you couldn’t have made her stay.”

Whitestorm blinked. “I didn’t dare send another cat after her — not with the pack loose. All we could do was sit up in the trees around Sunningrocks and listen to the howling. And then Lionblaze and Jayfeather ran off after that Fallen Leaves cat...” A shudder ran through his body. “But I should have done something.”

“You did everything,” Fireheart told him. “You stayed with the Clan and kept them safe. Bluestar made her own decision in the end. It was the will of StarClan that she died to save us.”

Whitestorm nodded slowly, though his eyes were still troubled as he murmured, “She always had so much faith in StarClan.”

“Whitestorm,” Fireheart replied, thankful that there was some comfort he could offer the gallant old warrior. “She had so much peace before she died. She knew exactly what she was doing, and why. Her mind was clear, and her faith was strong.”

Joy tempered the pain in Whitestorm’s eyes, and he bowed his head. Fireheart realized how devastating Bluestar’s death must be for him; they had been friends throughout a long life.

By now the rest of the Clan had crept into the circle around Fireheart. He could see the traces of their terrible experience still in their eyes, along with fear for the future. Swallowing uncomfortably, he realized that it was his duty now to calm those fears.

“Fireheart,” Brackenfur asked hesitantly, “is it true that Bluestar’s dead?”

Fireheart nodded. “Yes, it’s true. She. . .she died saving me, and all of us.” For a moment he thought his voice would fail completely, and he swallowed hard. “You all know that I was the last cat on the trail to lead the dogs to the gorge. When I was almost at the edge, Tigerstar leaped out at me and tried to hold me down so that the pack leader caught up to me. Hollyleaf defended me, but I didn’t have time to avoid the lead dog. He would have killed me, and the dogs would still be loose in the forest, if it hadn’t been for Bluestar. She threw herself at the dog, right on the edge of the gorge, and. . .and they both went over.”

He could see a ripple of distress sweeping across his Clanmates, like wind stirring the trees.

“What happened then?” Frostfur asked quietly.

“I went in after her, but I couldn’t save her.” Briefly Fireheart closed his eyes, remembering the churning water and his hopeless struggle to keep his leader afloat. “Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur from RiverClan came to help me when we had been swept clear of the gorge,” he went on. “Bluestar was alive when we got her out but it was too late. Her ninth life was over, and she left us to join StarClan.”

A yowl of grief came from somewhere among the circle of cats. Fireheart realized that many of the cats had not even been bom when Bluestar became leader, and losing her now must feel as if the four great oaks of Fourtrees had been torn up overnight.

He raised his voice, forcing it not to shake. “Bluestar isn’t gone, you know. She’s already watching over us from StarClan. . .her spirit is here with us now.” Or in her den, he thought privately, sharing tongues with Stonefur,  Mosslight, and Mistyfoot.

“I would like to see Bluestar now,” meowed Speckletail. “Where is she — in her den?” She turned toward the entrance, flanked by Patchpelt, Dappletail and Smallear.

“I’ll come with you,” Frostfur offered, springing to her paws.

Alarm shot through Fireheart. He had hoped to give Mosslight, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur as much time as possible with their dead mother, but he suddenly realized that apart from Graystripe and Sandstorm, no cats even knew that the three RiverClan warriors were in the camp.

“Wait-” he began, shouldering his way through the circle.

It was too late. Speckletail and Frostfur were already standing in the entrance to Bluestar’s den, their fur bristling and their tails fluffed out to twice their normal size as they confronted the strange cats. A menacing snarl came from Frostfur. “What are you doing here?”

Chapter Text

As Fireheart bounded across to Bluestar’s den, Speckle tail spun around to face him. Her eyes were burning with anger. “There are three RiverClan cats here,” she growled. “Mauling our leader’s body!”

“No — no, they’re not.” Fireheart gasped. “They’ve a right to be here.”

He realized that the rest of the Clan had gathered anxiously behind him and he heard Cloudtail yowling a challenge, with snarls of rage breaking out all around.

Fireheart whirled to face them. “Keep back!” he ordered. “It’s all right. Mosslight, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur-”

“You know they’re here?” The voice was Darkstripe’s; the dark tabby thrust his way through the crowd to stand nose-to-nose with Fireheart. “You let enemy cats into our camp — into our leader’s den?”

Fireheart took a breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He deeply mistrusted the black-striped tabby. When the Clan had been preparing to escape the dog pack, Darkstripe had tried to slip away with Lionblaze and Tigerstar’s kits. He had sworn that he knew nothing of Tigerstar’s plot to destroy ThunderClan with the dogs, but Fireheart was not sure he believed him.

“Have you forgotten what I told you?” he asked. “They helped me to pull Bluestar out of the river.”

“So you say!” Darkstripe spat. “How do we know you’re telling the truth? Why should RiverClan cats help ThunderClan?”

“They’ve helped us often enough in the past,” Fireheart reminded him. “More of us would have died after the fire if RiverClan hadn’t given us shelter.”

“That’s true,” meowed Mousefur. She had returned with Cinderpelt from the medicine cat’s den in time to hear the confrontation, and now she pushed forward to stand beside Darkstripe. “But it’s no excuse to leave them alone in the den with Bluestar’s body. What are they doing in there?”

“We are giving honor to Bluestar.”

Stonefur spoke defiantly, and Fireheart turned his head to see that the RiverClan deputy and the two warriors had appeared in the mouth of the den. They both looked taken aback at the reaction of the ThunderClan cats, their fur beginning to bristle as they realized they were being treated as intruders.

“We wanted to say good-bye to her,” Mosslight meowed.

“Why?” Mousefur demanded.

Fireheart’s stomach clenched as Mistyfoot faced the light brown she-cat and answered, “She was our mother.”

Silence fell, broken only by the call of a blackbird from the edge of the camp. Fireheart’s mind raced as he faced the shocked, hostile stares of his Clan. His gaze met Sandstorm’s; she looked dismayed, as if she guessed that Fireheart would never have chosen for ThunderClan to discover their leader’s secret like this.

“Your mother?” growled Speckletail. “I don’t believe it. Bluestar would never have allowed her kits to be raised in another Clan.”

“Believe it or not, it’s true,” Stonefur retorted.

Fireheart stepped forward, warning Stonefur to stay silent with a flick of his tail. “I’ll deal with this now. You and your sisters had better go.”

Stonefur gave him a curt nod and took the lead as he and Mistyfoot made their way toward the gorse tunnel. Mosslight was just behind them. Fireheart heard one or two furious hisses as the ThunderClan cats parted to let them pass.

“The thanks of the Clan go with you,” Fireheart called out after them, his voice echoing thinly off the Highrock.

“And with you,” Mosslight meowed.

Mistyfoot and Stonefur didn’t respond. They didn’t even turn to look back before they vanished into the tunnel.

Every hair on Fireheart’s pelt prickled with the desire to turn and run from his new responsibilities. The secret that had been so heavy to keep — that Bluestar had given up her kits to another Clan — would be heavier still in the sharing. He wished that he had been given more time to think of what to say, but he knew that it was better for his Clan to hear the truth from him now, instead of from Tigerstar at the next Gathering. As Clan leader he had to face the task, however little he liked it.

Dipping his head to Cinderpelt, he bounded up onto the Highrock. There was no need to summon the Clan; they were already turning to look up at him. For a heartbeat Fireheart was breathless, unable to speak.

He could see their anger and confusion, and smell their fear scent. Darkstripe was watching him with narrowed eyes, as if he were already planning what to tell Tigerstar. Bleakly Fireheart reflected that Tigerstar already knew; he had heard what Bluestar said to her kits as she lay dying by the river. But the ShadowClan leader would certainly be pleased to hear about ThunderClan’s confusion and Fireheart’s own difficulties. Tigerstar was sure to find a way to twist it to his advantage in his quest for revenge against ThunderClan and his efforts to recover his kits, Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw.

Fireheart took a deep breath and began: “It’s true that Mistyfoot and Stonefur are Bluestar’s kits.” He struggled to keep his voice steady, and prayed to StarClan to give him the right words so that the cats would not turn against Bluestar. “Oakheart of RiverClan was their father. When her kits were born, Bluestar gave them to him to be brought up in his Clan.”

“How do you know?” snarled Frostfur. “Bluestar would never have done that! If the RiverClan cats said so, they’re lying.”

“Bluestar told me herself,” Fireheart replied.

He met the white cat’s gaze; her eyes blazed with fury, her teeth were bared, but she did not quite dare to accuse him of lying. “Are you telling us she was a traitor?” she hissed.

One or two cats yowled a protest. Frostfur spun around, fur bristling, and Whitestorm rose to face her. Though the senior warrior looked stunned with shock, his voice was steady as he meowed, “Bluestar was always loyal to her Clan.”

“If she was so loyal,” Darkstripe put in, “why did she let a cat from another Clan father her kits?”

Fireheart found that question hard to answer. Not long ago, Graystripe had taken a mate from RiverClan, and his kits were growing up there now. The ThunderClan cats had been so horrified that Graystripe had felt he couldn’t stay in his birth Clan any longer. Although he had returned, some cats still felt hostile to him and doubted his loyalty.

“Things happen,” Fireheart replied. “When the kits were born, Bluestar would have brought them up to be loyal ThunderClan warriors, but-”

“I remember those kits.” This time the interruption was from Smallear. “They disappeared out of the nursery. We all thought a fox or a badger had gotten them. Bluestar was distraught. Are you saying that was all a he?”

Fireheart looked down at the old gray tomcat. “No,” he promised. “Bluestar was devastated at the loss of her kits. But she had to give them up in order to become Clan deputy.”

“You’re telling us her ambition meant more to her than her kits?” asked Dustpelt. The brown warrior sounded puzzled rather than angry, as if he couldn’t reconcile this image with the wise leader he had always known.

“No,” Fireheart told him. “She did it because the Clan needed her. She put the Clan first — just as she always did.”

“That’s true,” Whitestorm agreed quietly. “Nothing meant more to Bluestar than ThunderClan.”

Hollyleaf stepped forward. “I was there when she brought her kits to RiverClan. I watched her struggle through the snow, building snowholes to protect her kits from the freezing leaf-bare, and I helped her keep her kits warm long enough for Oakheart to get to them. She was absolutely devastated that she had to give them up.”

“Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur are proud of her courage — both then and now,” Fireheart went on. “As we should be.”

He was relieved when there were no more open challenges, though the tension among the Clan cats did not die away completely. Mousefur and Frostfur were muttering together, casting suspicious glances up at him. Speckletail, tail-tip twitching, stalked across to join them. But Whitestorm moved from one cat to another, clearly backing up what he had said, and Smallear was nodding wisely, as if he respected the hard decision Bluestar had made.

Then a single voice rose clearly out of the hum of conversation. “Fireheart,” Tawnypaw piped up, “are you going to be our leader now?”

Before Fireheart could reply, Darkstripe sprang to his paws. “Accept a kittypet as Clan leader? Are we all mad?”

“It’s not a question, Darkstripe,” Whitestorm pointed out, raising his voice above shocked exclamations from Sandstorm and Graystripe. “Fireheart is Clan deputy; he succeeds Bluestar. That’s all there is to it.”

Fireheart flashed him a grateful glance. The fur on his shoulders had begun to bristle and he deliberately relaxed so that it lay flat again. He would not let Darkstripe see that his challenging words had provoked him. Yet he could not stifle a moment of doubt. Bluestar had appointed him deputy, but her mind had been clouded by the shock of Tigerstar’s treachery, and the whole Clan had been shocked because the ceremony had been late. Could that possibly mean he was not the right cat to lead ThunderClan?

“But a kittypet!” Darkstripe protested. His yellow eyes glared balefully up at Fireheart. “Stinking of Twolegs and their nests! Is that what we want as our leader?”

Fireheart felt the familiar rage burn in his belly. Even though he had lived with the Clan since he was six moons old, Darkstripe never let him forget that he was not forest-born.

As he struggled with the desire to leap down and sink his claws into Darkstripe’s fur, Goldenflower rose to her paws and stepped forward to face the dark warrior. “You’re wrong, Darkstripe,” she growled. “Fireheart has proved his loyalty to the Clan a thousand times over. No Clan-born cat could have done more.”

Fireheart blinked his thanks to her, surprised that Goldenflower of all cats should have supported him so determinedly. She knew of Fireheart’s suspicions that her kit Bramblepaw would end up as dangerous as his father, Tigerstar. Though he had taken Bramblepaw as his own apprentice, he never felt comfortable around the young cat, and Goldenflower knew it. She had defended her kits fiercely against what she thought was Fireheart’s unreasonable hostility. It was all the more surprising now that she should stand up for him against Darkstripe.

Hollyleaf stuck her muzzle in Darkstripe’s face. “Fireheart is ten times the warrior you ever were,” she hissed. “If I told the Clan about the things you have yet to do, they wouldn’t let you stay here for a heartbeat. And if Cinderheart’s mother was here, you’d be begging StarClan for mercy!”

“Fireheart, don’t listen to Darkstripe,” Brackenfur, seeming a bit shaken at Hollyleaf’s threats, added his voice to Goldenflower’s. “Every cat here wants you as leader, apart from him. You’re obviously the best cat for the job.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the cats around the Highrock, and Fireheart’s heart swelled with gratitude.

“And who are we to go against the decrees of StarClan?” Mousefur added. “The deputy always becomes Clan leader. That is the tradition of the warrior code.”

“Which Fireheart seems to know rather better than you do,” Graystripe hissed, flicking his tail contemptuously at Darkstripe. He knew as well as Fireheart that the dark warrior had plotted with Tigerstar before the dog attack.

“Dirtstripe knows nothing about the warrior code or the meaning of loyalty!” Lionblaze snarled in agreement.

Fireheart gestured with one paw to his friend and grandson for silence before addressing the whole Clan. “I promise you that I will spend the rest of my life striving to become the leader that ThunderClan deserves. And with StarClan’s help I will succeed.”

His gaze was drawn instinctively to Sandstorm, and he felt warmth spread into his paws and the tip of his tail when he saw how proud she looked.

“As for you, Darkstripe,” Fireheart spat, unable to hide his anger, “if you don’t like the thought of being led by a kittypet, you can always leave.”

“Ooh, yes, please leave,” Jayfeather said, sounding almost happy at the thought. “It would save us a lot of trouble later on.”

The dark warrior lashed his tail; there was pure hatred in the look he threw Fireheart. If I had never come to the forest, Fireheart realized, Tigerstar would be leader now, and you would be deputy.

He had never intended to provoke a public confrontation with Darkstripe, but the dark tabby had driven him to it. Though ThunderClan could not afford to lose any warriors, a large part of Fireheart wanted Darkstripe to take him at his word and leave the Clan for good. Yet at the same time he knew that Darkstripe would go straight to ShadowClan and Tigerstar. It was better, Fireheart admitted to himself, to keep his enemies apart. Darkstripe would be less of a threat in ThunderClan, where Fireheart could keep an eye on him.

The black-striped warrior went on staring at him for a few heartbeats more, before whipping around to stalk away. But he did not head for the gorse tunnel; instead he vanished into the warriors’ den.

“Right.” Fireheart raised his voice as he turned back to the rest of the Clan. “Tonight we will hold the mourning rituals for Bluestar.”

“Hang on!” Cloudtail sprang to his paws, tail fluffed up. “Aren’t we going to attack ShadowClan? They tried to slaughter Brindleface and they led the dog pack to our camp! Don’t you want revenge?”

“I was there too,” Robinpaw pointed out.

Cloudtail ignored her, and his fur was bristling with hostility. Brindleface had been Cloudtail’s foster mother when he first came to ThunderClan as a helpless kit. But Fireheart knew that attacking ShadowClan right now was not the answer.

He signaled with his tail to silence the yowls of agreement that had broken out as soon as Cloudtail spoke. “No,” he meowed. “This is not the time to attack ShadowClan.”

“What?” Cloudtail stared at him disbelievingly. “You’d let them get away with it?”

Fireheart took a deep breath. “ShadowClan didn’t kill Brindleface and Robinpaw, or lay the trail for the dogs. Tigerstar did. Every rabbit on the trail had his scent on it and no other cat’s. We can’t be sure that ShadowClan even knew what their leader was planning. Stripestalk would have come to warn us, or sent Clawface or had Littlecloud tell Cinderpelt and Jayfeather.”

Cloudtail let out a snort of contempt. Fireheart fixed his former apprentice with a hard stare, willing him not to argue about this now. He knew that what had happened was due to the moons-old enmity between himself and Tigerstar. The ShadowClan leader would have been pleased to wipe out ThunderClan and take their territory for his own, but that was not his real motive for bringing the pack of dogs to the camp. What Tigerstar wanted more than anything else was to destroy Fireheart. Only then would he have his full revenge for the time when Fireheart had revealed his plot to kill Bluestar and driven him into exile.

Sooner or later, Fireheart now knew, he would have to come face-to-face with Tigerstar in a final confrontation that only one of them could survive. He prayed to StarClan that when the time came he would have the courage and strength to rid the forest of this bloodthirsty cat.

“Believe me,” he meowed out loud, addressing the whole Clan, “Tigerstar will pay. But ThunderClan has no quarrel with ShadowClan.”

To Fireheart’s relief, Cloudtail sat down again, his blue eyes blazing with anger, and muttered something to Brightheart. Nearby, Goldenflower was crouched with her tail wrapped protectively around Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, as if they were still young kits. She had made Fireheart himself tell the young cats what Tigerstar had done, and she was always afraid that the Clan would judge them harshly because of their father’s crimes. As Fireheart gave his decision not to attack, she visibly relaxed, and the two apprentices eased away from her. Bramblepaw flashed him a grateful, but nervous look at Firestar, and there was fear in his amber eyes.

He would have reassure Bramblepaw at some point, but right now he had to push it to the back of his mind. He looked out over the assembled cats. 

After a few heartbeats of silence, Longtail glanced at Hollyleaf and Fallen Leaves and meowed, “Do we have to wait all night to find out who the newest cats in our camp are?”

Fireheart sighed. A part of him had been hoping they’d go unnoticed for a while.

Hollyleaf took pity on him and answered for herself. “My name is Hollyleaf. I am a warrior of ThunderClan and sister to Lionblaze and Jayfeather.”

“You’re aunt Hollyleaf!?” Hollypaw exclaimed in excitement. “I was named after you!”

“I thought Hollyleaf died in your timeline!” Darkstripe yowled at the time travelers accusingly. “Did you lie to us in hopes of sympathy.”

Lionblaze growled at him. “Of course not! We would never lie about something like that.”

“They thought I was dead,” Hollyleaf announced. “And at first, so did I. But I was rescued by Fallen Leaves and hid from the Clans until we were both brought to the past”

“Just how long have you been here?” Needlenose asked curiously.

Nighthunter answered for her. “Longer than any of the other time travelers,” she meowed. “This is Healer, the cat who has been helping cats in Twolegplace and in the Clans since before most of you were born. She saved my sister when she was attacked by rogues, and she’s been saving cats for many seasons.”

Jayfeather let out a strangled gasp, and Fireheart gave him a concerned look. The blind medicine cat’s gaze was overwhelmed with shock and he was trembling.

Lionblaze approached his sister. “How could you hide from us?” he demanded quietly.

“I wasn’t allowed to rejoin ThunderClan until after Bluestar’s death, and knowing I was here would have just been a distraction for you,” she replied, just as softly.

The rest of the Clan didn’t seem to know what to think about the newcomers.

“We can trust her.” It was Ashpaw who spoke. This time, Hollyleaf was the one to let out a strangled gasp. “Hollyleaf is a brave and trustworthy cat who does whatever she can to protect others.”

Fireheart noticed Hollyleaf’s flinch and guessed she was thinking about how she had killed Ashfur to protect her family. She probably didn’t want the others to know about that.

“Hollyleaf has shown great compassion during her time here,” Whitestorm said. “I suggest we welcome her as we welcomed her kin.”

“She saved my life in the fire,” Hollypaw piped up. “When Ivypool was fighting–”

Fireheart cut her off. This was most definitely not the time to bring up the fact that Brokenstar’s spirit had appeared in the camp and attacked both cats. “After Ivypool passed out, Hollyleaf brought Hollypaw the rest of the way out of the camp.”

“Let her stay,” Lionblaze meowed seriously. “We lost her once; it would be unbearable to lose her again.”

For heartbeat, no cat said anything. Then a chorus of approval rang out, and both Lionblaze and Hollyleaf relaxed, though the she-cat looked away when her brother turned to smile at her.

Long shadows were stretching across the camp, and Fireheart realized that the time had come for the Clan to make its last farewells to their beloved leader. “We must pay our respects to Bluestar,” he announced. “Are you ready, Cinderpelt?” The medicine cat nodded. “Graystripe, Sandstorm,” Fireheart went on, “can you bring Bluestar’s body out into the clearing so that we may share tongues with her in the sight of StarClan?”

The two warriors got up and vanished into Bluestar’s den, reappearing a moment later with their leader’s body supported between them. They carried her to the center of the clearing and laid her gently onto the hard-packed sand.

“Sandstorm, round up a hunting patrol,” Fireheart ordered. “When you’ve said good-bye to Bluestar I’d like you to stock up the fresh-kill pile. And Mousefur, when you have finished, could you lead a patrol out toward Snakerocks and the ShadowClan border? I want to be sure that all the dogs have gone, and that there are no ShadowClan cats on our territory. Be careful, though — don’t take risks.”

“Sure, Fireheart.” The wiry brown tabby got to her paws. “Goldenflower, Longtail, are you coming?”

The cats she had named went to join her, and all three moved into the center of the clearing to share tongues with their leader for the last time. Sandstorm followed with Dustpelt and Cloudtail. Cinderpelt stood at Bluestar’s head and gazed into the indigo sky, where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear. According to the ancient traditions of the Clans, each star represented the spirit of a warrior ancestor. Fireheart wondered if there were one more star tonight, for Bluestar.

Cinderpelt’s blue eyes shone with the secrets of StarClan. “Bluestar was a noble leader,” she meowed. “Let us give thanks to StarClan for her life. She was dedicated to her Clan, and her memory will never fade from the forest. Now we commend her spirit to StarClan; may she watch over us in death as she always did in life.”

A soft murmuring spread throughout the Clan as the medicine cat finished speaking and stood with her head bowed. The warriors Fireheart had chosen to go out on patrol crouched beside Bluestar’s body, grooming her fur and pressing their noses to her flank. After a while they backed away and other cats took their place, until all the Clan had shared tongues with their leader in the sorrowful ritual.

The patrols left, and the other cats retreated silently to their dens. Fireheart stood watching near the base of the Highrock, and as Brackenfur moved away from his leader’s body he stepped forward to intercept the young warrior. “I’ve got a job for you,” he murmured. “I want you to keep an eye on Darkstripe for me. If he so much as looks across the border to ShadowClan, I want to know about it.”

The young ginger tom gazed at him, alarm battling with loyalty to his new Clan leader. “I’ll do my best, Fireheart, but he won’t like it.”

“With any luck, he won’t know about it. Don’t make it too obvious, and ask one or two of the others to help you. . .Mousefur, maybe, and Frostfur.” Seeing that Brackenfur was still doubtful, Fireheart added, “Darkstripe may not have known about the dogs, but he knew that Tigerstar was planning something. We can’t trust him.”

“I can see that,” Brackenfur meowed, his eyes troubled. “But we can’t watch him forever.”

“It won’t be forever,” Fireheart assured him. “Just until Darkstripe proves where his loyalties lie — one way or the other.”

Brackenfur nodded. “If what the time travelers say is true, his loyalties will never be to us,” he meowed, then slipped silently into the warriors’ den. With no more problems clamoring for his attention, Fireheart was able to cross the clearing to Bluestar’s body. Cinderpelt still sat near her head and Whitestorm was crouched beside her, his head bowed in grief.

Fireheart dipped his head to the medicine cat. He settled himself beside Bluestar, searching her face for signs of the leader he had loved so much. But her eyes were closed, never again to burn with the fire that had commanded respect from all the Clans. Her spirit had gone to race joyously through the sky with her warrior ancestors’, keeping watch over the forest.

He felt the soft caress of his leader’s fur and felt a sense of security flood over him, almost as if he were a kit again, curling up close to his mother. For a moment he could almost forget the horror of her dying and the loneliness of his new responsibilities.

Receive her with honor, Fireheart prayed silently to StarClan, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to Bluestar’s fur. And help me keep her Clan safe.

Chapter Text

Something was prodding Fireheart in the side. With a muffled mew of protest he opened his eyes to see Cinderpelt stooping over him.

“You dozed off,” she murmured. “But you’ll have to wake up now. It’s time to bury Bluestar.”

Fireheart staggered to his paws. He flexed each stiff leg in turn and passed his dry tongue over his lips. He felt as if he had been crouching in the clearing for a moon at least. The sense of comfort he had felt as he slept was replaced by a wave of guilt.

“Did any cat see?” he muttered to Cinderpelt.

The medicine cat’s blue eyes glimmered with sympathy. “Only me. Don’t worry about it, Fireheart. No cat would blame you after what happened yesterday.”

Fireheart glanced around the clearing. The pale light of dawn was just beginning to seep through the trees. A few tail-lengths away the elders had assembled to carry out their duty of bearing Bluestar’s body to the burial place. The rest of the Clan were slowly emerging from their dens, forming two lines between Bluestar’s body and the entrance to the gorse tunnel.

At a nod from Cinderpelt, the elders took up the body and carried Bluestar between the rows of her grieving warriors. Every cat bowed his head as their leader was borne past.

“Good-bye, Bluestar,” Fireheart murmured. “I’ll never forget you.” Sharp thorns of pain pierced his heart when he saw the tip of her tail scoring a furrow in the blackened leaves that still lay on the ground after the recent fire.

When Bluestar had vanished with her escort, the rest of the cats began to disperse. Fireheart checked the camp, noticing with approval that the pile of fresh-kill had been stocked up. All he needed to do was send out the dawn patrol; then he could eat and rest. He felt as if a moon of sleep would not be enough to banish the exhaustion from his paws.

“Well, Fireheart,” meowed Cinderpelt. “Are you ready?”

Fireheart turned, puzzled. “Ready?”

“To go to the Moonstone to receive your nine lives from StarClan.” The tip of Cinderpelt’s tail twitched. “Fireheart, surely you hadn’t forgotten?”

Fireheart shuffled his paws uneasily. Of course he hadn’t forgotten the ancient ceremony to initiate all new Clan leaders, but somehow he hadn’t realized that it would take place right away. He felt dazed by the speed with which everything was happening, bearing him forward relentlessly like the swift waters of the gorge that had almost drowned him.

Fear rose in his throat and he had to swallow quickly. No leader ever spoke of the mystic rite, so no other cat, except for the medicine cats, knew what happened there. Fireheart had visited the Moonstone before and watched Bluestar share tongues with StarClan in her sleep. That experience had been awe-inspiring enough. He could not imagine what would happen when he had to he beside the sacred stone himself and share dreams with his warrior ancestors.

On top of this, he knew that Highstones, where the Moonstone lay in a cavern far underground, was a whole day’s journey away, and the ritual demanded that he not eat beforehand, not even the strengthening herbs that other cats took for the journey.

“StarClan will give you strength,” meowed Cinderpelt, as if she had read his thoughts.

Fireheart muttered in vague agreement. Glancing around, he spotted Whitestorm on his way to the warriors’ den and summoned the older warrior with a flick of his tail.

“I’ve got to go to Highstones,” he meowed. “Will you take charge of the camp? We’ll need a dawn patrol.”

“Consider it done,” promised Whitestorm, and added, “StarClan go with you, Fireheart.”

Lionblaze and Jayfeather were standing nearby with Hollyleaf.

“Are you coming with us?” Fireheart asked the blind medicine cat.

Jayfeather shook his head. “We need to discuss some things. Cinderpelt will have to bring you alone.”

Fireheart nodded. “Talk things out and fix them. I want you all to be happy.”

“Thank you, Fireheart,” Hollyleaf meowed. She lightly touched her tail tip to his ear. “May StarClan ease your journey.”

Fireheart took a last look around the camp as he followed Cinderpelt toward the gorse tunnel. He felt as if he were going on a long journey, farther than he had ever traveled before, where the prospect of return looked doubtful. And in a way he never would return, for the cat who came back would have a new name, new responsibilities, and a new relationship with StarClan.

As he turned away, a yowl sounded behind him. Graystripe and Sandstorm were racing across the clearing.

“You weren’t sneaking off without saying good-bye?” Graystripe panted, skidding to a halt.

Sandstorm said nothing, but she twined her tail with Fireheart’s and pressed close to his side.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Fireheart meowed. “Listen,” he added awkwardly, “I know things will be different now, but I’ll never stop needing you — both of you. No cat ever had such a good friend or such an amazing mate.”

Graystripe butted him in the shoulder. “We know that, you stupid furball,” he mewed.

Sandstorm’s green eyes shone as she gazed into Fireheart’s. “We’ll always need you too, Fireheart,” she murmured. “And you’d better not forget that.”

“Fireheart, come on!” Cinderpelt called from where she was waiting at the entrance to the gorse tunnel. “We have to reach Highstones by nightfall — and remember I can’t move as fast as you.”

“Coming!” Fireheart gave each of his friends a quick lick before plunging into the gorse tunnel after the medicine cat. His heart felt full of hope as he caught up to her and made his way to the top of the ravine. He might have been leaving his old life behind, but he could take with him everything that was important.

The sun was up in a clear blue sky and the frost had melted from the grass by the time the two cats reached Fourtrees, where the Gatherings were held between all four Clans every full moon.

“I hope we don’t meet a WindClan patrol,” Fireheart remarked as they crossed the border onto the high, exposed moorland, leaving the shelter of the forest behind them.

Not long before, WindClan had discovered that ThunderClan had been sheltering Brokentail, the treacherous former leader of ShadowClan. They had been furious, since as leader, Brokentail had driven them from their territory and killed several of their cats. Brokentail was completely gone now, but WindClan might still hold a grudge.

“They won’t stop us,” Cinderpelt replied calmly.

“They might try,” Fireheart argued. “I’d rather avoid them altogether.”

His hopes were dashed as he and Cinderpelt reached the crest of a stretch of moorland and saw a WindClan patrol picking their way through the heather a few foxlengths below. They were downwind, so Fireheart had not detected their scent as a warning.

The leader of the patrol raised his head, and Fireheart recognized the warrior Tornear. His heart sank when he saw that his old enemy Mudclaw was just behind him, with a young warrior Fireheart didn’t know, and the time traveler Furzepelt. He and Cinderpelt waited as the WindClan cats bounded through the heather toward them; there was no point in trying to avoid them now.

Mudclaw curled his lip in a snarl, but Torn ear dipped his head as he halted in front of Fireheart. “Greetings, Fireheart, Cinderpelt,” he meowed. “Why are you here on our territory?”

“We’re on our way to Highstones,” Cinderpelt replied, taking a step forward.

Fireheart felt a surge of pride to see the respectful nod the WindClan warrior gave to his medicine cat.

“No bad news, I hope?” Tomear asked; cats did not usually travel to Highstones unless a crisis in their Clan demanded direct communication with StarClan.

“The worst,” Cinderpelt meowed steadily. “Bluestar died yesterday.”

Furzepelt gasped. “The dog pack!”

All four WindClan cats bowed their heads; even Mudclaw looked solemn. “She was a great and noble cat,” Tornear meowed at last. “Every Clan will honor her memory.”

Raising his head again, he turned to Fireheart with a look of curiosity and respect in his eyes. “So you’re to be leader now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Fireheart admitted. “I’m going to receive my nine lives from StarClan.”

Tornear nodded, his gaze traveling slowly over the warrior’s flame-colored pelt. “You’re young,” he commented. “But something tells me you’ll make a fine leader.”

“Th-thank you,” Fireheart stammered, taken by surprise.

“He’ll be a fine and famous leader,” Furzepelt put in, her eyes filled mischief. “Every cat will know his name.”

Fireheart frowned. “That’s not entirely reassuring.”

Cinderpelt rescued him. “We mustn’t stay,” she meowed. “It’s a long way to Highstones.”

“Of course.” Tornear stepped back. “We’ll tell Tallstar your news. May StarClan be with you!” he called as the two ThunderClan cats bounded away.

On the edge of the uplands they paused again and looked down over a very different landscape. Instead of bare hillside broken by outcrops of rock and patches of heather, Fireheart saw a scattering of Twoleg nests among fields and hedgerows. In the distance the Thunderpath cut a swath across the land, while beyond that jagged hills reared up, their barren slopes looking gray and threatening. Fireheart swallowed; that desolate region was where they were heading.

He realized that Cinderpelt was looking at him with understanding in her blue eyes.

“Everything’s different,” Fireheart confessed. “You saw those WindClan cats. Even they don’t treat me in the same way anymore.” He knew he could never say these things to anyone except the medicine cat — not even to Sandstorm. “It’s as if every cat expects me to be noble and wise. But I’m not. I’ll make mistakes, just like I did before. Cinderpelt, I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Mouse-brain.” Fireheart was both shocked and comforted by the teasing note in Cinderpelt’s voice. “When you make mistakes — not if, Fireheart, when — I’ll tell you about them, believe me.” More seriously, she added, “And I’ll still be your friend, no matter what. No cat that ever lived was perfect all the time. Bluestar wasn’t! The trick is to learn from your mistakes, and have the courage to be true to your heart.” She turned her head and rasped her tongue over his ear. “You’ll be fine, Fireheart. Now let’s go.”

Fireheart let her take the lead down the slope and across the Twoleg farmland. The two cats picked their way over the sticky earth of a plowed field and skirted the Twoleg nest where the two loners, Barley and Ravenpaw, lived. Fireheart kept a lookout, but there was no sign of them. He was sorry not to see them, for both cats were good friends to ThunderClan, and Ravenpaw had once trained alongside Fireheart as an apprentice. The distant barking of a dog sent shivers through Fireheart’s fur as he remembered the horror of being chased by the pack.

Keeping to the shadows of the hedges, they eventually reached the Thunderpath and crouched beside it, their fur ruffled by the wind of monsters racing past them. The strong reek of their fumes flooded Fireheart’s nose and throat, and his eyes stung.

Cinderpelt braced herself beside him, waiting for a space between the monsters when it would be safe to cross. Fireheart felt anxious for his friend. Her leg had been permanently injured in an accident at the edge of the Thunderpath many moons ago, when she had been his apprentice; the old injury would slow her down.

“We’ll go together,” he meowed, feeling the familiar guilt that he had not prevented her accident. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Cinderpelt gave a tiny nod; Fireheart guessed she was afraid, but she wouldn’t admit it. A moment later, after a brightly colored monster flashed past, she mewed, “Now!” and limped rapidly out onto the hard black surface.

Fireheart bounded at her side, forcing himself not to leave her behind even though his heart was hammering and every instinct screamed at him to run across as quickly as he could. He heard the roar of a monster in the distance, but before it arrived he and the medicine cat were safe in the hedgerow on the other side.

The medicine cat let out a gusty sigh. “Thank StarClan that’s over!”

Fireheart murmured agreement, though he knew they still had to face the return journey.

Already the sun was sliding down the sky. The land on this side of the Thunderpath was less familiar to Fireheart, and every sense was alert for danger as they began to climb toward Highstones. But all he could hear was prey scuffling in the scanty grass; the tempting scent flooded his mouth, and he wished he were allowed to stop and hunt.

As Fireheart and Cinderpelt reached the foot of the final slope, the sun was setting behind the peak. The evening shadows were lengthening and a chill crept over the ground. Above his head, Fireheart could make out a square opening beneath an overhang of stone.

“We’ve reached Mothermouth,” Cinderpelt meowed. “Let’s rest for a moment.”

She and Fireheart lay down together on a flat rock while the last of the light died from the sky and the stars of Silverpelt began to appear. The moon flooded all the landscape in a cold, frosty light.

“It’s time,” mewed Cinderpelt.

All his misgivings coursed through Fireheart once again, and at first he thought his paws would not carry him. But he rose and began walking forward, the sharp stones biting into his pads, until he stood beneath the arch known to the Clans as Mothermouth.

A black tunnel yawned into darkness. From his previous visit Fireheart knew that there was no point in straining his eyes to see what lay ahead; the blackness was unbroken all the way to the cavern where the Moonstone lay. As he hesitated, Cinderpelt stepped forward confidently.

“Follow my scent,” she told him. “I will lead you to the Moonstone. And from now on, until the ritual is over, neither of us must speak.”

“But I don’t know what to do,” Fireheart protested.

“When we reach the Moonstone, lie down and press your nose to it.” Her blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “StarClan will send you sleep so you may meet with them in dreams.”

There was a forest full of questions that Fireheart wanted to ask her, but none whose answers would help him overcome the creeping dread he felt. He bowed his head in silence and followed Cinderpelt as she made her way into the darkness.

The tunnel sloped steadily downward, and Fireheart soon lost his sense of direction as it wound back and forth. Sometimes the walls were so close together that his fur and whiskers brushed the sides. His heart thumped wildly and he opened his mouth to draw in Cinderpelt’s comforting scent, terrified at the thought that he might lose her.

At last he realized that he could see Cinderpelt’s ears outlined against a faint light ahead. Other scents began to reach him, and his whiskers twitched in a flow of cold, fresh air. A heartbeat later he rounded a bend in the tunnel and the light grew suddenly stronger. Fireheart narrowed his eyes as he padded forward, sensing that the tunnel had opened out into a cave.

High above his head, a hole in the roof showed a chink of night sky. A shaft of moonlight shone through it, falling directly onto a rock in the center of the cavern. Fireheart drew in his breath sharply. He had seen the Moonstone once before, but he had forgotten just how startling it was. About three tail- lengths high, tapering toward its top, it reflected the moonlight in its dazzling crystal as if a star had fallen to the earth. The white light lit up the whole cave, turning Cinderpelt’s gray fur to silver.

She turned toward Fireheart and signaled to him with her tail to take his place beside the Moonstone.

Unable to speak, even if he could think of anything to say, Fireheart obeyed. He lay down in front of the stone, settling his head on his paws so that his nose touched the smooth surface. The cold was a shock, so that he almost drew back, and for a moment he blinked at the light of stars sparkling in the depths of the stone.

Then he closed his eyes, and waited for StarClan to send him to sleep.

*  *  *  *  *

The three siblings and Cinderheart ended up just outside the medicine den. Dovewing and Fallen Leaves stayed with Ivypool there, while the others talked.

“How did you survive the cave-in?” Lionblaze demanded, his voice full of incredulity.

Hollyleaf sighed. “When the cave collapsed, I almost died. If I had been alone, I would have. But Fallen Leaves found me and brought me to the big cave. He treated my injuries and nursed me back to health. He showed me all the tunnels and taught me how to navigate them. A couple times, I left the tunnels to check how ThunderClan was doing, but he could never come with me, since he was trapped down there. 

“During that last leaf-fall in our time, Half Moon came to us and said that she was bringing cats back in time to make things better. She said that with your collective power, she could free Fallen Leaves so that we could both join the mission, and then she brought us to this Twolegplace. Unlike the rest of you, we’ve been here for the entirety of Bluestar’s life since she was an apprentice.”

“You’ve been here all this time?” Cinderheart’s voice was startled but sympathetic, and when her friend nodded, she stroked Hollyleaf’s flank with her tail.

Hollyleaf went on. “Using my training from Leafpool and help from Half Moon and Fallen Leaves, I quickly established myself as a healer and worked to help cats in both Twolegplace and the Clans. Some of the cats I saved were Mosslight, Silverstream’s sisters, and Surge and Spin. I also saved Tiny from Tigerstar, and later realized that he was the one originally meant to become Scourge.”

Jayfeather raised his tail to stop her. “Go back. What do you mean about Tiny becoming Scourge?”

“Right. So in the original timeline, apprentice Tigerstar attacked young Scourge, then called Tiny, at the prodding of his mentor Thistleclaw. He hurt him very badly and only stopped because Bluestar put herself in between the two cats. Scourge was traumatized from the event and then had to figure out how to survive on his own, but because he was a little cat, he wasn’t exactly in a prime position to do anything. Then he got lucky and managed to trick the other cats into thinking he was a dog-killer, and they made him their leader, and he became Scourge.”

Lionblaze frowned. “And that didn’t happen this time because…?”

Hollyleaf shrugged. “I may have bowled apprentice Tigerstar to the ground before he could actually injure Tiny, and then Fallen Leaves and I adopted him as our son. We only later found out about him being Firestar’s half-brother later.”

“So does that mean we don’t have to deal with BloodClan?” Cinderheart asked.

“Er…no.”

“What do you mean, no?” Jayfeather demanded. “How can there be a BloodClan if Tiny never became Scourge?”

Hollyleaf winced. “Well, not long after that incident, apprentice Mistflow fell from a tree during her warrior assessment. She managed to kill the bird she was after by falling on it, but she injured her leg in the fall as well. Four rogues saw her and decided to try to attack her. She fought them as well as she could, but was too badly injured from the fall to properly defend herself. Honeyfern, Pinestar, and I intervened and fought them off. As they were leaving, the rogues swore revenge, and then they started BloodClan.”

“So by trying to solve the problem, you just recreated it?” Jayfeather meowed with an eyeroll.

“Of course not!” Hollyleaf protested. “When we saved and adopted Tiny, Fallen Leaves and I gained the respect of many cats around Twolegplace. Then, the day I helped save kit Mosslight, Tiny, who’d renamed himself Scorch by that point, found Surge and Spin as very young kits. Their mother had just died, and they were in very bad shape. He begged me to save them, and somehow I did, and then ended up adopting both of them as well. When the other cats in Twolegplace saw what we’d done, they desperately wanted to join us. We ended up forming our own group.”

Cinderheart glanced at her. “You managed to form your own own group, alongside BloodClan?”

“Something like that,” Hollyleaf replied. “A lot of the cats are kittypets, siblings forced to live in separate homes, and they’re delighted at the opportunity to spend time with each other and work towards a shared goal.”

“If you and Fallen Leaves were their leaders, who’s in charge of them now?” Lionblaze asked.

“Scorch has been their leader for a long time. We acted as medicine cats and each trained one of them to heal so that they would not suffer when we joined ThunderClan.”

Lionblaze’s gaze was unreadable. “And are you?” he questioned. “Going to stay in ThunderClan?”

Hollyleaf nodded slowly. “That was the plan. But I understand if you don’t want me here; if you want me to go back to Twolegplace–”

She was abruptly cut off as Lionblaze thrust his muzzle against hers and Cinderheart pressed against her side.

“Of course we want you back, mouse-brain,” Jayfeather grumbled. “Do you have any idea how much we missed you when we thought you were dead?”

“Please stay with us,” Cinderheart begged. “You have to meet our kits properly.”

Lionblaze didn’t say anything, he was purring too hard.

Honeypaw and Hollypaw didn’t need to be found, as it turned out that they had been eavesdropping on the conversation with Redpaw and Robinpaw.

Hollypaw immediately darted up to sniff at Hollyleaf. “You’re the cat who helped save me from Brokenstar in the fire. Thank you!”

“Brokenstar!” the three warriors gasped.

Cinderheart narrowed her eyes. “Ashpaw mentioned something about that,” she remembered aloud. “He said that you and Ivypool had fought and killed Brokenstar’s spirit.”

Hollyleaf flinched. “Ivypool sent me away with Hollykit before she actually killed Brokenstar. I didn’t want to leave her, but she said she’d be fine and that she didn’t want Hollykit to see.”

Hollypaw scowled. “I’d already seen you cripple his legs. What was so bad about the deathblow.”

“You shouldn’t have seen either,” Hollyleaf murmured.

Honeypaw grinned. “Hey, auntie Hollyleaf is from the future too!” he exclaimed. “That means we can to talk to her about all your bedtime stories and plot with her about how to kill Tigerdung!”

“I can help you with that too, cousin!” Robinpaw cheered, grinning widely.

“No!” “Absolutely not!” Lionblaze and Hollyleaf meowed at the same time. They gave each other bemused looks.

Cinderheart rolled her eyes. “I understand it all now,” she sighed. “This kind of impulsive behavior comes from Firestar.”

“Hey, we don’t share blood with Hollyleaf, but we’re family all the same,” Redpaw protested.

“And your mother used to go on adventures with Leafpool all the time,” Lionblaze reminded Cinderheart. “Our blood and adopted family is just full of impulsive cats.”

Robinpaw turned to Hollyleaf. “I didn’t get to tell you how I ripped Tigerstar to shreds this morning!”

Hollyleaf purred and flicked her shoulder. “I thought I scented you on him. You gave him some impressive injuries.”

The sound of a cat clearing her throat caught everyone’s attention, and they turned around to see Dovewing.

“Speaking of injuries,” she meowed. “Ivypool’s awake. And she’s fully recovered.”

Chapter Text

All was darkness and cold. Fireheart had never been so cold. He felt as if every scrap of warmth and life were being sucked out of his body. His legs twitched as painful cramps clutched at them. He imagined that he was made of ice, and if he tried to move he would shatter into a thousand brittle fragments.

But no dreams came. No sight or sound of StarClan. Only the cold and the darkness. Something must be wrong, Fireheart thought, beginning to panic.

He dared to open his eyes a narrow slit. At once they flew wide with shock. Instead of the shining Moonstone in a cavern far below the ground, he saw short, well-trodden grass stretching away. Night scents flooded over him, of green, growing things moist with dew. A warm breeze ruffled his fur.

Scrambling into a sitting position, Fireheart realized he was in the hollow at Fourtrees, near the base of the Great Rock. The towering oaks, in full leaf, rustled over his head, and Silverpelt glittered beyond them in the night sky.

How did I come here? he wondered. Is this the dream that Cinderpelt promised?

He raised his head and looked up at the sky. He could not remember its being so clear; Silverpelt looked closer than he had ever seen before, scarcely higher than the topmost branches of the oaks. As Fireheart gazed at it, he realized something that sent the blood thrilling through his veins like liquid fire.

The stars were moving.

They swirled before his disbelieving eyes and began to spiral downward, toward the forest, toward Fourtrees, toward him. Fireheart waited, his heart pounding.

And the cats of StarClan came stalking down the sky. Frost sparkled at their paws and glittered in their eyes. Their pelts were white flame. They carried the scent of ice and fire and the wild places of the night.

Fireheart crouched before them. He could scarcely bear to go on looking, and yet he could not bear to look away. He wanted to absorb this moment into every hair on his pelt so it would be his forever.

After a time that might have lasted a hundred seasons or a single heartbeat, all the cats of StarClan had come down to earth. All around Fireheart the hollow of Fourtrees was lined with their shimmering bodies and blazing eyes. Fireheart crouched in the center, surrounded on all sides. He began to realize that some of the starry cats, those sitting closest to him, were achingly familiar.

Bluestar! Joy pierced him like a thorn in his heart. And Yellowfang! Then he drew in a familiar, sweet scent, and turned his head to see the faces that he had dreamed of so often.

Mistflow, Spottedleaf, Softpaw! His beloved friends had come back to him. Fireheart wanted to spring to his paws and yowl his joy to the whole forest, but awe kept him silent, still crouching.

“Welcome, Fireheart.” The sound seemed to belong to all the cats Fireheart had ever known, and yet at the same time it was one clear voice. “Are you ready to receive your nine lives?”

Fireheart glanced around, but he couldn’t see any cat speaking. “Yes,” he replied, forcing his voice not to shake. “I’m ready.”

A golden tabby cat rose to his paws and strode toward him, his head and tail high. Fireheart recognized Lionheart, who had become Bluestar’s deputy when Fireheart was still an apprentice and who had died soon after in a battle with ShadowClan. He had been an old cat when Fireheart knew him, but now he looked young and strong again, his coat shining with pale fire.

“Lionheart!” Fireheart gasped. “Is it really you?”

Lionheart did not reply. When he was close enough, he stooped and touched his nose to Fireheart’s head. It burned against him like the hottest flame and the coldest ice. Fireheart’s instinct was to shrink away, but he could not move.

“With this life I give you courage,” Lionheart murmured. “Use it well in defense of your Clan.”

At once a bolt of energy seared through Fireheart like lightning, setting his fur on end and filling his senses with a deafening roar. His eyes grew dark, and his mind filled with a chaotic swirl of battles and hunts, the feeling of claws raking across fur and teeth meeting in the flesh of prey.

The pain ebbed, leaving Fireheart weak and trembling. The darkness faded and he found himself in the unearthly clearing again. If that was one life received, he had eight more to go. How will I bear it? he thought in dismay.

Lionheart was already turning away, moving back to his place in the ranks of StarClan. Another cat rose and came toward Fireheart. At first Fireheart did not recognize him, but then he glimpsed a dark, dappled coat and bushy red tail and realized this must be Redtail. Fireheart had never met the ThunderClan deputy, who was murdered by Tigerstar on the very day Fireheart came to the forest as a kittypet, but he had sought out the truth about his death and used it to prove Tigerstar’ s treachery.

Like Lionheart, Redtail bowed his head and touched his nose to Fireheart’s. “With this life I give you justice,” he mewed. “Use it well as you judge the actions of others.”

Once more an agonizing spasm rushed through Fireheart, and he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from yowling. When he recovered, panting as if he had raced all the way back to camp, he saw Redtail watching him. “Thank you,” the former deputy meowed solemnly. “You revealed the truth when no other cat could.”

Fireheart managed to nod in acknowledgment as Redtail went back to sit beside Lionheart again, and a third cat emerged from the ranks.

This time Fireheart’s jaws dropped open when he recognized the beautiful tabby, her coat glimmering with a silvery sheen. It was Graystripe’s lost love Silverstream, the RiverClan queen who had died briefly bearing his kits and again permanently when Tigerstar had pushed her to her death while she was trying to save Graypool. Her paws scarcely skimmed the ground as she bent down to him.

“With this life I give you loyalty to what you know to be right,” she meowed. Fireheart wondered if she was referring to the way he had helped Graystripe to see his forbidden love, trusting to the strength of their relationship even though it went against the warrior code. “Use it well to guide your Clan in times of trouble,” Silverstream urged him.

Fireheart braced himself for another agonizing pang, but this time there was less pain as the new life rushed through him. He was aware of a warm glow of love, and realized dimly that that was what had marked out Silverstream’ s life — love for her Clan, for Graystripe, and for the kits she had almost died to give life to.

“Silverstream!” he whispered as the silver-gray she-cat turned away again. “Don’t go yet. Haven’t you any message for Graystripe, or your kits or sisters?”

But Silverstream said nothing more, only glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes filled with love and sorrow that told Fireheart more than all the words she could ever say.

He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the next life-giving. When he looked up again, a fourth cat was approaching him. His heart gave a leap of joy. It was Mistflow, Lightfrost’s mother, who had given her life to protect ThunderClan during Brokenstar’s second attack.

“This life would have been Brindleface’s life to give,” she meowed. “I am honored to take her place.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he whispered.

“With this life I give you protection,” she told him. “Use it well to care for your Clan as a mother cares for her kits.”

Fireheart expected this life to be gentle and loving like Silverstream’s, and he wasn’t ready for the bolt of ferocity that transfixed him. He felt as though all the fury of their ancient ancestors TigerClan and LionClan were pulsing through him, challenging any cat to harm the weaker, faceless shadows that crouched by his paws. Shocked and trembling, Fireheart recognized a mother’s desire to protect her kits, and realized how much Mistflow had loved them all — every Clanmate, even those who were not her kin.

I must tell them, Fireheart thought as the fury ebbed, before he remembered that he was bound to say nothing to any cat about what he had experienced in the ritual.

Mistflow drew back to sit with the other cats of StarClan again, and another familiar figure took her place. Guilt washed over Fireheart as he recognized Softpaw.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he looked into his friend’s eyes. “I should have gotten back before you died.”

Softpaw had died during the same attack as Lionheart, and she had given her life defending the elders. Fireheart had not been there for the beginning of the attack, having been traveling back from the Moonstone with Bluestar, Tigerclaw, Lionblaze, and several of the apprentices. He would never stop wishing they’d been in camp at the start of the battle.

But Softpaw showed no anger. “I never blamed you. And now I give you the life that would have been Swiftblade’s to give.” Her eyes shone with a compassion far beyond his age as she touched her nose to Fireheart’s. “With this life I give you mentoring. Use it well to train the young cats of your Clan.”

The life Softpaw gave him was a pang of determination so great Fireheart thought he could do anything. It ended in a jolt of pure shock, and a flash of golden light. Fireheart knew he was experiencing what Softpaw had felt in the last moments of her life.

As it ebbed away, leaving Fireheart gasping, he began to feel like a hollow in the ground as rain falls into it and spills over. He thought that his strength would hardly sustain him to receive lives from the cats that were still to come.

The first was Yellowfang. The old medicine cat had the same air of obstinate independence and courage that had impressed and frustrated Fireheart in equal measure when she was alive. He remembered the last time he had seen her, dying in her den after the fire. Then she had been in despair, wondering if StarClan would receive her even though she had killed her own son, Brokentail, to put an end to his bloodthirsty plotting. Now the gleam of humor was back in her yellow eyes as she stooped to touch Fireheart.

“With this life I give you compassion,” she announced. “Use it well for the elders of your Clan, and the sick, and all those weaker than yourself.”

This time, even knowing the pain he would have to bear, Fireheart closed his eyes and drank in the life hungrily, wanting all of Yellowfang’s spirit, all her courage and her loyalty to the Clan that was not hers by birth. He received it like a tide of light surging through him: her humor, her sharp tongue, her warm-heartedness, and her sense of honor. He felt closer to her than ever before.

“Oh, Yellowfang...” Fireheart whispered, his eyes blinking open again. “I’ve missed you so much.”

The medicine cat was already moving away. The cat who took her place was younger, stepping lightly, the sparkle of s tars in her fur and in her eyes: Spottedleaf, the beautiful tortoiseshell who had been the first medicine cat Fireheart had ever met. She had come to him in some dreams, but he had never seen her as plainly as this since she had been alive.

“Hello, Spottedleaf...”

“With this life I give you love,” she murmured in her soft voice. “Use it well, for all the cats in your care — and especially for Sandstorm and your kits.”

There was no pain in the life that poured into Fireheart now. It held the warmth of the high sun in greenleaf, burning to the tips of his paws. It was pure love; at the same time he experienced the sense of security he had known as a tiny kit, nuzzling his mother. He gazed up at Spottedleaf, wrapped in a contentment he had never known before.

Bluestar approached Fireheart. She was not the tired, but determined leader Fireheart had loved and respected. This was Bluestar at the height of her strength and power, prowling toward him across the clearing like a lion. Fireheart was almost dazzled by the glory of starlight around her, but he forced himself to meet her blue gaze squarely.

“Welcome, Fireheart, my apprentice, my warrior, and my deputy,” she greeted him. “I always knew you would make a great leader one day.”

As Fireheart bowed his head, Bluestar went on. “There is a choice you must make now, before I give you a life.”

Fireheart stared at her in surprise. “I don’t understand.”

“No matter your decision, I will be the one to give you your last life. But you must know there is another cat who needs fresh life as much as you do.”

“Ivypool,” he whispered. Was that what Ashfur had meant? A life freely given, but not yet taken…

Another cat padded forward to join them. Longtail! The pale tabby appeared slightly older, and there were scars around his eyes, but it was the same young warrior Fireheart had known since he had joined ThunderClan. There was an infinite kindness and compassion in Longtail’s gaze.

“Hello, my friend,” Longtail said calmly.

“Friend?” Fireheart repeated. Do we really become friends in the future?

Longtail purred in amusement. “There is much you do not know about what is to come,” he told Fireheart. “One of those things is that I was the last ThunderClan cat to die in the time your kin are from. If you choose to share your last life with Ivypool, I will be the one to grant it to her.”

There was no doubt in Fireheart’s mind about what he should do. “Of course I’ll give her my life!” he exclaimed. “That’s the whole point of leaders having nine lives in the first place, right? To give their lives for the warriors that have one? Ivypool sacrificed herself for ThunderClan; it’s only fair I do the same for her.”

Bluestar smiled in approval. “I knew you would make the selfless choice.” She touched him with her nose and went on; “With this life I give you nobility and certainty and faith. Use it well as you lead your Clan in the ways of StarClan and the warrior code.”

The warmth of Spottedleaf’s life had lulled Fireheart, and he was unprepared for the agony that shook him as he received Bluestar’s. He shared the fierceness of her ambition, the anguish she had suffered when she gave up her kits, the ferocity of battle after battle in the service of her Clan. He felt her terror as her mind fragmented and she lost her trust in StarClan. The rush of power grew stronger and stronger, until Fireheart thought his pelt would never contain it. Just as he thought he must yowl his pain or die, it began to ebb, ending in a sense of calm acceptance and joy.

A long, soft sigh passed through the clearing. All the StarClan warriors had risen to their paws. Bluestar stayed in the center of the clearing and signaled with her tail that Fireheart should rise too. He obeyed her shakily, feeling as if the fullness of life inside him would spill over when he moved. His body felt as battered as if he had fought the hardest battle of his life, and yet his spirit soared with the strength of the lives he had been granted.

“I hail you by your new name, Firestar,” Bluestar announced. “Your old life is no more. You have now received eight lives of a leader, and StarClan grants to you the guardianship of ThunderClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.”

“Firestar! Firestar!” Just as the forest Clans would acclaim a new warrior by name, so the cats of StarClan acclaimed Firestar, in rich voices that tingled in the air. “Firestar! Firestar!”

The voices died down, and suddenly most of the cats were gone. Bluestar remained, as did Mistflow. Crookedstar was there also, and Silverstream. Fireheart recognized Honeyfern and Molepaw, and Longtail was at the head of the patrol, clearly the one who would lead it.

“Let’s go save my Clanmate!”

*  *  *  *  *

It was immediately clear that they’d crossed into the Dark Forest. No longer surrounding them were the greenleaf grass and hidden prey, or the full-leafed trees towering above them. Instead, the ground was slimy peat and where the stars had shown brightly above was an impenetrable fog of darkness.

“We’ll need to be careful,” Longtail warned. “Some of these cats have willingly sunk into their rage and hatred for countless seasons. They’ll be the most dangerous to deal with.”

“And others never deserved to come here in the first place,” Molepaw announced. “We snuck in here once, but we weren’t able to fight. When we returned to StarClan, we talked to Half Moon about the cats here.”

Honeyfern growled. “It turns out that some cats were exiled from StarClan because those with grudges against them just happened to die first. This gave them access to the Clan Founders and a chance to convince them to banish innocents.”

“Like Snowtuft and Silverhawk?” Firestar guessed.

Nodding, Molepaw explained, “Snowtuft is completely innocent. A fellow Clanmate’s sister died trying to save him from a danger the Clanmate had sent him into in the first place. But that Clanmate died first, and not only did he get Shadowstar to send Snowtuft here, he had Snowtuft’s memories erased so he couldn’t appeal to StarClan himself.”

Silverstream frowned. “You mean he doesn’t even know what me might have done to end up here?”

“Exactly,” Honeyfern growled. “And Silverhawk tried to convince his Clan leader to step down because he was making terrible decisions like attacking another Clan in the middle of leaf-bare and ordering the cats in his Clan to only eat every third day to conserve prey during greenleaf. When that leader died, he got Silverhawk banished and his memories altered so that Silverhawk thinks he tried to kill his leader for a selfish reason.”

“Why didn’t Half Moon stop any of it?” Silverstream asked.

“Because Half Moon may have power, but she divides her time amongst three different afterlives. The Founders make decisions while she’s gone, and she can’t stop them when she returns. Only current members of StarClan can undo these unjust decisions,” Molepaw told her.

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “That is not the StarClan I grew up learning of.”

“Of course not,” Honeyfern meowed. “StarClan’s power is more limited when it comes to living cats, and even if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t want everyone else learning of what they’ve done.”

Crookedstar hissed. “Then it appears things need to change.”

“Later,” Mistflow told him. “We have another goal right now.”

As they moved farther into the trees, Firestar could hear the sounds of fighting. Cats yowled in pain and fury, and muscle smacked against disgusting earth.

After only a few more pawsteps, they broke through some bushes and forced their way into a clearing. Several cats were fighting. Ivypool was struggling with a pale gray tom who was clearly Ashfur. Two other cats, a ragged, pale gray tabby tom and a small, skinny white tom, whom Fireheart guessed were Silverhawk and Snowtuft, wrestled with a spiky-furred gray-and-white tom, a large tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, a black-furred tom, another ragged gray tom, and a small, mottled brown tabby she-cat.

Bluestar’s fur bristled with rage and recognition. “Thistleclaw is mine!” she hissed.

“And mine,” Mistflow put in. “We’ll do this together.”

“Crookedstar and I will deal with Mapleshade,” Silverstream announced.

Firestar didn’t know who either of those cats were, but he didn’t have to wait long to figure it.

Crookedstar hurled himself at the tortoiseshell. “Mapleshade!” he yowled. She managed to keep her balance, only for Silverstream to crash into her legs.

Bluestar and Mistflow hit the gray-and-white tom at the same time. “You don’t have Clan popularity to protect you this time!” Bluestar growled at him.

Thistleclaw smirked. “Ah, I see the weaklings have come to help their immortal weakling.”

“We’ll see who’s weak,” Mistflow growled.

Honeyfern and Molepaw hurtled forward and tackled the black-furred tom. Before he could even try to recover, Honeyfern lashed her claws across his throat. Blood welled from the wound, and he fell to one side. Molepaw fastened his teeth around the back of the tom’s neck and bit down. With a sharp crack, the tom fell still, his form fading, and within a few heartbeats, he had disappeared entirely.

Relieved, Snowtuft and Silverhawk attacked the ragged gray tom with renewed fury. “I told you we’d hold out!” Snowtuft gasped with relief.

“It’s over for you now, Maggottail!” Silverhawk spat. “Give up!”

“Never!” Maggottail shot back. He lashed out at them with both forepaws.

Firestar left the three time traveling StarClan cats to deal with the mottled brown she-cat and leaped onto Ashfur’s back. But to his surprise, the Realm Walker rolled over, crushing him underneath his bulk while thrusting Ivypool away with his hind paws.

Managing to squeeze out from under him, Firestar glared furiously.

Ashfur’s eyes gleamed madly. “Hello, Firestar. I’d guessed that little traitor told what happened here. Did you think you could stop it?”

“I’ll always stop you!” Firestar growled.

“Oh, will you?” Ashfur purred. “Because as far as I can remember, you haven’t stopped me once. Look around you.”

Reluctantly, Firestar did so, only to see that his cats were soundly winning the battle. Even as he watched, Snowtuft sliced one paw down Maggottail’s belly, killing the Dark Forest cat for good and causing him to fade away. Meanwhile, Longtail gripped the mottled brown she-cat by the scruff and threw her against a tree so hard that she was killed instantly.

“That doesn’t look much like you winning,” Ivypool said sarcastically.

Ashfur glared. “It doesn’t matter. I won before and I’ll win again!”

“Did you win?” Firestar meowed. “Because from what I remember, Hollyleaf killed you without you even having a chance to fight back.”

The pale gray warrior’s blue eyes blazed. “That fox-heart killed me like I was a piece of prey. There was no honor in it!”

“There was no honor when you tried to trap my grandkits in a fire!” Firestar shot back. “I don’t blame Hollyleaf for killing you. In fact, I wish I’d been there to help her. They shouldn’t have been alone!”

“Oh no,” Ashfur’s voice returned to its satisfied purr. “You don’t know the whole story, do you?” Firestar frowned. What part of the story had he missed? “I know you’ve seen parts of it. You saw why I spared them, but not why I was going to kill them.”

“You shouldn’t have tried to kill them in the first place!” Firestar spat. “They were honorable young cats and they trusted you to help them.”

Ashfur shrugged. “I thought Squirrelflight was their mother.” Squirrelflight? Is that what her warrior name will be? “And she chose Brambleclaw over me. Obviously she had to pay for it. I tried to kill you first, using a fox trap. Hawkfrost was eager to help if it meant doing something to please his father. But Brambleclaw just had to play the hero and save you, killing Hawkfrost in the process. Luckily for me, neither you nor Brambleclaw were there when your precious grandkits needed you."

“Where was I?” Firestar demanded in a low growl.

The gray warrior laughed. “You were weak and recovering from greencough, so you were already safe and out of the camp. But your grandkits weren’t so lucky. Squirrelflight got them out of camp, but not to safety. That’s when I showed up. If it hadn’t been for Squirrelflight’s desperate announcement that she wasn’t their mother, I would have happily let them die. But she gave me something far more powerful with which to hurt her. And when she begged me to help her keep the secret, you invited me to the Gathering instead. It would have been perfect, announcing that Squirrelflight had lied to her mate, kits, and entire Clan for seasons.”

“But Hollyleaf killed you first,” Firestar rasped.

“And then she announced it at the Gathering herself. By that point she and her brothers knew that medicine cat Leafpool was their mother and WindClan warrior Crowfeather their father. Brambleclaw was absolutely furious!” Ashfur purred once again, this time much more wildly. “That night absolutely broke Squirrelflight. Her mate hated her, with very good reason, her adopted daughter had betrayed her, and her sister had to step down as a medicine cat. ThunderClan was thrown into disarray. I watched happily from StarClan as Squirrelflight suffered day after day in her grief, and it all could have been avoided with one simple change.”

Ivypool glared at him. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Ashfur ignored her. “Squirrelflight should have chosen me! I loved her! I wanted her! She belonged to me! Not to that pathetic mouseheart Brambleclaw! So what if they went on a journey together and eventually saved the Clans together. I deserved her!”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Honeyfern hissed. She had padded over with Molepaw and Longtail. “Squirrelflight was free to choose whatever cat she wanted to be mates with. You should have accepted it and moved on.”

Firestar stalked forward and thrust his muzzle into Ashfur’s face. “Stay away from my daughter!”

Ashfur shrugged. “You can’t stop a Realm Walker. We can go anywhere we want. But if you want to try…” He vanished in a sudden flash of stars.

Ivypool glowered at the space where he’d been. “I hate it when he does that.”

Only two fights were still going on. Bluestar and Mistflow were still wrestling with Thistleclaw, while Crookedstar and Silverstream continued their fight with Mapleshade.

Taking advantage of the lull in action, Firestar turned to examine Ivypool. “How are you feeling?” he asked her, worried.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “But I’ll be fine as soon as I can wake up.”

“How did you managed to fight those foxhearts for so long?” Firestar meowed.

She sighed. “It wasn’t a constant battle. The fights would happen a couple times a day, and usually it was only two or three cats. Snowtuft and Silverhawk joining me helped too. But I guess Ashfur was very encouraging to these cats.”

“Well, he’d better stay away from ThunderClan.”

A screech of pain startled him, and he turned to see Mistflow holding Thistleclaw’s foreleg clamped in her jaw. Swinging her head, she lifted him off his paws and slammed him to the ground. Tilting her head the other way, she pinned him with his leg crossing his body in the wrong direction. Thistleclaw screamed again.

Bluestar stood over him. “Goodbye, Thistleclaw,” she said. Then she slashed his throat, and the Dark Forest cat disappeared.

With all other fights finished, it was easy to pay attention to the fight between Mapleshade and Crookedstar and Silverstream. The tortoiseshell she-cat struck the former leader with a powerful blow, sending him reeling. Yowling, Silverstream lunged for her, but Mapleshade ducked and sank her claws into Silverstream’s shoulder. Silverstream hissed and struggled, wriggling free but leaving clumps of fur in her enemy’s claws.

“Mapleshade!” Crookedstar shouted so commandingly that everyone stopped and stared at him. Even the Dark Forest cat turned to gaze at him, her eyes mocking. “The last time we fought, you told me that I couldn’t hurt you because you were dead.” He gestured around the clearing meaningfully. “That doesn’t seem to be true anymore.”

She snarled and slashed her claws at Silverstream’s ear. They connected, and blood sprayed both cats.

“Nooo!” At the sight his daughter’s injury, Crookedstar bunched his muscles beneath in and powered forward in a leap that knocked Mapleshade off her paws. He pinned her down with one forepaw on her chest and the other on her neck. Silverstream stepped forward to pin down her hindquarters. “This is for all the cats you’ve hurt, all the pain you’ve caused. You wanted me to swear loyalty to my Clan first, and now my Clan is StarClan, which means my care goes to all the living Clans. And I will make sure you never threaten any cat ever again!”

With that, he pressed his paw down on her neck even harder in an move that would have killed her quickly if she needed to breathe. But she didn’t need to, and Firestar realized that Crookestar hadn’t been trying to suffocate her, he’d been searching.

Yowling, Crookedstar lifted his paw and brought it down hard. Firestar heard the snap of her neck and Mapleshade stopped thrashing abruptly. Only a few seconds later, she faded forever.

A strange vibrating shudder shook the entire Dark Forest. Firestar stumbled at the unexpected shaking.

“What was that?” he cried.

Bluestar rested her tail on his shoulder. “It means it is over,” she purred. “We have defeated our enemies.”

“Wait, what about Ashfur?” Honeyfern reminder her. “He escaped!”

“Ashfur is a problem that must be solved another day,” Mistflow told her. “Our time has run out. Firestar must return to the waking world and Ivypool must wake up as well.”

Ivypool frowned. “Don’t you think I’ve been trying? My body was too badly injured for me to recover. I’m going to be stuck like this.”

“No, it won’t.” Longtail padded to stand in front of you. “You helped save Whiteclaw. You’ve protected the Clans from any attempt the Dark Forest might muster against them. Now it’s your turn to be helped.”

Ivypool stared at him for a moment, studying the scars around his eyes. “Are you…my Longtail?”

“Yes, little one,” Longtail purred. “You took care of me for the few moons I was alive during your apprenticeship, and now I will take care of you.” He touched his nose to hers. “With this freely given life, I give you restoration. Accept it and be healed, and when you find yourself on other battlefields, remember that it is all right to be concerned about yourself if the need arises. There is a difference between selfishness and staying healthy enough to fight for your Clan.”

Gasping with shock, Ivypool went rigid as the life rushed through her. Its energy spread, closing wounds, healing her throat and lungs. For a moment, her eyes glowed. Then she vanished from the Dark Forest in a flash of stars.

An unusual clicking noise caught Fireheart’s attention. He spun around and let out a choking cry.

A massive hill of bones had appeared at the other side of the clearing, many tail-lengths high. It shone with an unnatural light, so that Firestar could see each separate bone edged as if with fire — the bones of cats and the bones of prey, all jumbled together. A hot wind swept over him, bearing the reek of carrion, even though the bones gleamed white and clean.

Firestar gazed wildly around him, seeking help or answers from the other cats. But the clearing was dark. The remaining cats of StarClan with him had vanished, leaving him alone with the terrible hill of bones. As Firestar felt panic welling up inside him, he sensed the familiar presence of Bluestar by his side, warm fur pressed against his flank. He could not see her in the darkness, but her voice whispered in his ear.

“Something terrible is coming, Firestar. Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest.”

Her scent and the warmth of her fur faded away as she finished speaking.

“Wait!” Firestar yowled. “Don’t leave me! Tell me what you mean!”

But there was no reply, no explanation of the dreadful prophecy. Instead, the red light that gleamed from the hill of bones glowed brighter. Firestar stared at it in horror. Blood had begun to ooze out between the bones. The trickles merged into a river that flowed steadily toward him, until the stench of blood clung to his fur. He tried to flee, and found his paws were fixed in place. A heartbeat later, the sticky red tide was washing around him, gurgling and reeking of death.

“No!” Firestar yowled, but there was no response from the forest, just the steady whisper of blood lapping hungrily at his fur.

Chapter Text

Firestar jolted awake in terror. He was lying in the cavern beneath Highstones with his nose pressed against the Moonstone. The shaft of moonlight had vanished, and only the faintest glimmer of starshine lit the cave. But there was no relief in waking up, for the stench of blood was still all around him and his fur felt hot and sticky.

Heart thudding wildly, Firestar scrambled to his paws. Across the cave he could just make out Cinderpelt. She had risen too, and was signaling urgently to him with her tail. Firestar’s first impulse was to pour out to her all that he had seen, but he remembered her instructions to keep silent until they had left Mother mouth. Paws skidding on the cave floor in his haste, he pushed past the medicine cat and bolted into the tunnel.

As he stumbled upward toward the open air, following his own scent trail along the dark passage, the way seemed twice as long as before. Firestar’s fur scraped against the tunnel walls and he was filled with horror at the thought of being buried alive. The air felt too thick to breathe, and as his panic grew in the unbroken blackness of the tunnel he began to imagine that it would never end, that he would be trapped for ever in blood and darkness.

Then he saw the pale outline of the tunnel entrance, and burst out into the still night air, where the moon was sinking behind thin clouds. Firestar dug his claws into the loose earth of the hillside while shudders passed through his body from nose to tail.

A few moments later, Cinderpelt emerged behind him and pressed herself against his side until he managed to control his dreadful shivering and his breathing steadied.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t you know?”

Cinderpelt shook her head. “I know that the ritual was interrupted — the scent of blood told me that. But I don’t know why.” She looked deep into his eyes; her own were burning with concern. “Tell me. . .did you receive your nine lives and your name?”

Firestar nodded, not sure if he should tell her about only having eight lives, and the medicine cat relaxed slightly. “Then the rest can wait. Let’s go.”

For a moment Firestar felt too exhausted to move. But he did not want to stay anywhere near Mothermouth and the terrible things that he had seen in the cave. Shakily, pawstep by pawstep, he began to descend the hill. Cinderpelt padded beside him, sometimes nudging him toward an easier route, and Firestar was grateful for her unquestioning presence.

As they drew farther away from the tunnel, the stench of blood faded from his mouth and nostrils. Still, Firestar felt that even if he washed for a moon he would never get rid of the last traces from his fur. He began to feel stronger, but he was still very tired, and as soon as the rocky hillside gave way to grass he flopped down in the shelter of a hawthorn bush.

“I’ve got to rest,” he meowed.

Cinderpelt tucked herself into the grass beside him and for a few moments the two cats shared tongues in silence. Firestar wanted to tell the medicine cat what he had seen, but something kept him silent. Partly he wanted to protect her from the dreadful fear he had felt — even if she could explain what Bluestar’s prophecy meant, would it help to have another cat look forward to the future with the dread that he now felt? And partly he hoped that if he never spoke of the dreadful vision, it might not come true. Or was there a curse on his leadership that nothing could avert? Bluestar had told him before she died that he was the fire who would save the Clan. How could that be true, if the fire was quenched by the tidal wave of blood he had just seen? Firestar had experienced prophetic dreams before, and he had learned to take them seriously. He could not ignore this, especially when it came at such a significant moment, while he was receiving his nine lives and his new name.

Cinderpelt broke into his reverie. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it yet, you know.”

Firestar pushed his muzzle into her fur, grateful for her warmth. “I’ll think about it first,” he mewed slowly. “Right now... it’s too close.” He shivered again at the memory. “Cinderpelt,” he went on, “I’ve never told any cat this before, but. . .sometimes I have dreams that tell me about the future.”

Cinderpelt’s ears twitched in surprise. “That’s unusual. Clan leaders and medicine cats commune with StarClan, but I never heard of ordinary warriors having prophetic dreams. How long has this been going on?”

“Since I was a kittypet,” Firestar admitted, remembering the dream of hunting a mouse that had first driven him into the forest. “But I. . .I don’t know if the dreams come from StarClan.” After all, before he came to the forest, he hadn’t even known about StarClan. Could they have been watching over him even then?

The medicine cat’s eyes were thoughtful. “In the end, all dreams come from StarClan,” she murmured. “Do they always come true?”

“Yes,” Firestar replied. “But not always in the way I expect. Some are easier to understand than others.”

“Then you should bear that in mind when you’re trying to understand this latest dream.” Cinderpelt gave him a comforting lick. “Remember, Firestar, you’re not alone. Now that you’re Clan leader, StarClan will share many things with you. But I’m here to help you interpret the signs. Tell me as much or as little as you want.”

Though Firestar was grateful for her understanding, Cinderpelt’s words chilled him. His new relationship with StarClan was driving him along new paths where he might not want to go. For a few heartbeats he longed to be no more than a warrior again, hunting with Graystripe or sharing tongues with Sandstorm and playing with his kits in the nursery.

“Thank you, Cinderpelt,” he meowed, forcing himself to his paws. “I promise I’ll talk to you when ever I feel the need.” But even though he meant what he said, deep down he wondered how helpful she would be. Firestar couldn’t help feeling that this was something he had to face alone. He let out a long sigh. “Let’s keep going.”

However much Firestar longed to get home, his strength was failing. Since the discovery of the dog pack and the heart-stopping dash through the forest to lead them to the gorge, he had eaten little, and scarcely slept except to dream. The long journey to Highstones and the agony of receiving eight lives, followed by the battle in the Dark Forest and the terrible vision, had taken all he had to give.

His steps became slower and more uncertain. They were passing Barley’s farm when the medicine cat gave his shoulder a sharp nudge. “That’s enough, Firestar,” she meowed firmly. “As your medicine cat I’m telling you that you need to rest. Let’s see if Barley and Ravenpaw are at home.”

“Good idea.” Firestar felt too relieved at the prospect of resting to argue.

Cautiously the two cats approached the Twoleg barn. Firestar was worried that the dogs might be unchained, but their scent was faint and distant. Much stronger was the scent of cats, and as they drew closer Firestar spotted a muscular black-and-white tom squeezing himself through a gap in the door.

“Barley!” he meowed in greeting. “It’s good to see you. You know Cinderpelt, our medicine cat?”

Barley gave both cats a brisk nod. “It’s good to see you, too, Fireheart.”

“Firestar,” Cinderpelt corrected him. “He’s Clan leader now.”

Barley’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Congratulations! But that means that Bluestar must be dead. I’m sorry.”

“She died as she lived, protecting her Clan,” Firestar told him.

“I can see there’s a story to tell,” meowed Barley, turning back to the barn, “and Ravenpaw and our visitors will want to hear it. Come on in.”

“Visitors?” Cinderpelt echoed in surprise.

Barley sighed. “It’s better if we show you.”

Inside the barn was warm and dark, full of the scent of hay and mice. Firestar listened to the telltale scuttering noises and his head spun with hunger.

“A soft place to sleep, and all the prey you can eat,” he remarked, trying not to let his desperate hunger show. “Better not tell ThunderClan or they’ll all be out here, wanting to be loners.”

Barley chuckled softly. “Ravenpaw,” he called, “come and see who’s here.”

A dark shape sprang down from a nearby stack of hay with a welcoming purr. As an apprentice, Ravenpaw had been the only cat in ThunderClan besides the time travelers who knew the truth about the death of Redtail — that he had been murdered by Ravenpaw’s mentor, Tigerstar. When Tigerstar tried to kill his apprentice to prevent him from reporting what he had seen, Firestar had found this new home for him. The life of a loner suited Ravenpaw much better than that of a warrior, yet he had never forgotten his birth Clan, and remained a loyal friend to his former Clanmates.

There appeared to be several other cats hidden in the shadows of the barn, but none of them came any closer, so Firestar guessed they were no danger to him and Cinderpelt.

“So Bluestar is dead,” he murmured when Barley had passed on the news. His eyes clouded with grief. “I’ll never forget her.”

Barley gave a comforting rumble in his throat, and Firestar sensed how welcoming he must have been to the scared young apprentice who had come to him so many moons ago.

Straightening up, Ravenpaw flashed the black-and-white cat a grateful glance. “So you’re Clan leader now,” he continued to Firestar. “StarClan made a good choice.” He led the way to the other side of the barn. “Would you like to hunt?”

“That would be great,” replied Cinderpelt. She gave Firestar a questioning look, and murmured, “Shall I catch something for you?”

In spite of his exhaustion, Firestar shook his head. A fine Clan leader he would make if he couldn’t catch his own prey! He stood alert, listening, and dropped into the hunter’s crouch when he heard a soft scuffling deep within the hay. Pinpointing the mouse by hearing rather than sight, he sprang, and dispatched the creature with a swift bite.

Ravenpaw was lucky, Firestar reflected as he picked up the prey in his jaws and padded back to the others to eat. This was twice the size of the leaf-bare-thin mice in the forest, and easier to catch in the shadows of the barn. He gulped it down in a few famished mouthfuls and felt his strength beginning to return.

“Have some more,” Ravenpaw urged. “There are plenty here.”

When Firestar and Cinderpelt had eaten as much as they could manage they lay in the soft hay, sharing tongues with their friends and bringing them up-to-date with Clan news. Ravenpaw and Barley listened, their eyes huge with shock, as Firestar told them about the dog pack.

“I always knew Tigerstar was bloodthirsty,” Ravenpaw meowed, “but I didn’t think even he would try to destroy a whole Clan like that.”

“Thank StarClan he didn’t succeed,” Firestar replied. “But he came pretty close. I don’t want to go through anything like that again.”

“You’ll have to do something to stop Tigerstar now, before he tries something else,” Barley pointed out.

Firestar nodded. He hesitated, then confessed, “But I don’t know how I’m going to do anything without Bluestar. Everything seems dark and. . .and overwhelming.” He said nothing about the interruption of his leadership ritual, or the horror of his dream, but he saw from the sympathetic look in Cinderpelt’s eyes that she knew what he was thinking.

“Remember the whole Clan is behind you,” she mewed. “No cat will ever forget that you and Bluestar saved us from the pack.”

“Maybe they expect too much of me.”

“Nonsense!” Cinderpelt’s tone was bracing. “They know you’re going to be a great leader, and they’ll all stand by you to the last breath.”

“So will I,” Ravenpaw offered, startling Firestar. The sleek black tom looked slightly embarrassed as Firestar turned to look at him, but he went on: “I know I’m not a warrior, but if you want my help you have only to ask.”

Firestar blinked his gratitude. “Thank you, Ravenpaw.”

“We will help you as well.” The promise came from one of the cats who’d remained in the shadows.

Ravenpaw smiled at the cat. “I was wondering if you’d show yourself.”

“Who is this cat?” Firestar asked in confusion.

“She’s one of the visitors I told you about,” Barley meowed.

As he said the words, the cat emerged into the light, and Firestar recognized the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat immediately. She was much larger than the cat he knew, but he recognized the same light in her eyes.

“You’re Sorrelkit,” he said aloud. “Or at least, the warrior she will become. Cinderheart’s mother.”

She nodded. “My name is Sorreltail now.”

“It’s good to see you grown up,” he told her. “Cinderheart will be excited to see you as well.”

“Cinderheart is here!?” A ginger she-kit burst from the shadows and skidded forward to stop at Firestar’s paws. “We haven’t seen her in a quarter moon.”

Another tortoiseshell she-cat, who appeared to be younger than Sorreltail followed the she-kit, a brown-and-cream tom-kit at her paws. “Cherrykit, calm down. You know better than to charge a Clanmate like that. And it’s only been a half moon since you saw Cinderheart.”

“But it feels like longer,” Cherrykit grumbled. “She said she was going to teach Molekit and I how to climb on the dens, but she disappeared before she could.”

The tom-kit, who must have been Molekit, rolled his eyes. “We figured it out on our own.”

The tortoiseshell, who was clearly their mother, sighed, shaking her head. “I apologize for the impulsiveness of my kits. My name is Poppyfrost.”

Of course! Firestar thought. Lionblaze and Cinderheart had mentioned Cinderheart’s other sister. “Cinderheart will be very happy to see both of you,” he meowed. “She’s been missing her family. Honeyfern and Molepaw are here, but they can only visit in dreams when Jayfeather summons them.”

“All of my kits are here?” Sorreltail whispered, her eyes glistening.

Poppyfrost rested her tail on her mother’s shoulder. “Not just us. Your family is still alive in this time!”

Sorreltail’s family has all died? How long has it been in the future to cause that?

Sorreltail sighed. “I barely even remember Whitestorm. His death, it’s…

“We’ll stop it,” Poppyfrost promised. “Whitewing and Birchfall said that we can change things in this timeline, like how they stopped Graystripe from killing Clawface, and how the others saved so many cats here.”

“I can’t wait to see Dovewing and Ivypool again!” Cherrykit squealed. “They had so many great games to play with us!”

Poppyfrost nodded. “And I look forward to seeing my sister and friends again. I hope Lionblaze and Jayfeather haven’t been fighting too much.”

Firestar smirked. “Jayfeather did yell at him that one time he got hit by a monster while saving Whitethroat, but for the most part, they’ve gotten along pretty well.”

“Lionblaze did what!?” both warriors exclaimed at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you probably didn’t know about the prophecy,” Firestar realized, wincing at his slip.

Sorreltail glared at him, and Firestar couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity in the expression. It was the same look he’d seen Lionblaze receive from Cinderheart several times, especially after he’d saved Whitethroat.

“So that’s how he saved me!” Poppyfrost gasped.

Stiffening, Sorreltail turned to look at her daughter. “Saved you?”

“Back when I was an apprentice and got greencough, I could feel myself fading away. I woke up in greenleaf and found myself on what must have been the border of StarClan. Jayfeather was there too, and a tortoiseshell StarClan she-cat. He begged me to come back with him and the StarClan cat let me. When I woke up, I thought it was just a dream, but now…”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Firestar confirmed. “Jayfeather did the same thing to save Silverstream after her kitting.”

“Silverstream’s alive!?”

Firestar shook his head. “Tigerstar killed her when she was saving Graypool.”

Cherrykit perked up. “Tigerdung’s here?”

Molekit prodded her shoulder. “We’re not supposed to say ‘dung!’”

She shrugged. “Whatever. If he’s here, then we can kill him!”

“Don’t even think about it!” “What is it with you future young cats?”

Both warriors turned to Firestar with a questioning gaze at his words. “What do you mean?” Sorreltail asked.

“Every young cat who’s the kit of someone from the future has this overwhelming urge to run off and kill Tigerstar,” he explained. “First Hollypaw and Honeypaw, then Robinpaw, and I’m sure Redpaw wants to as well, even if he hasn’t talked about it as much.”

“Who are those cats?” Poppyfrost meowed.

Firestar groaned. StarClan give me the right words. “Hollypaw and Honeypaw are Lionblaze and Cinderheart’s kits, and Robinpaw and Redpaw are Hollyleaf’s adopted grandkits.” That wasn’t what I meant.

The two warriors stared at him again. “Lionblaze and Cinderheart have kits!?” Poppyfrost exclaimed in excitement.

“Hollyleaf’s alive?” Sorreltail’s words were much quieter, full of disbelief. Firestar had forgotten that future ThunderClan thought his granddaughter was dead.

He nodded. “Yes,” he rasped faintly. “She was rescued from the tunnel collapse and sent here to help protect the cats the other time travelers couldn’t.”

“After what she did, she just ran away and let every cat think she was dead?” Sorreltail still sounded disbelieving.

“Hollyleaf truly believed she was doing the right thing,” Firestar explained. “She thought it would be easier to let the others think she was dead. And she’s spent many seasons atoning for everything she did in your time.”

“Everything she did?” Poppyfrost repeated. “What else was there, besides revealing who her parents were?”

Sorreltail’s fur bristled, and Firestar knew she had guessed the answer. “Ashfur.”

Firestar nodded and explained everything about what had happened with Ashfur in the past and what was happening now.

“That mangepelt!” Sorreltail snarled. “No one hurts my best friend’s sister and their kits and gets away with it!”

“We have to stop him,” Poppyfrost agreed.

“There’s no time for that now,” Firestar said reluctantly. “With Bluestar dead, I have to focus on stopping Tigerstar with whatever he’s planning.

“May I come to the camp soon?” Ravenpaw asked. The black-furred tom had disappeared at some point during the conversation, along with Barley, and just now returned. “I’d like to pay my last respects to Bluestar at her burial place.”

“Yes, of course,” Firestar replied. “I’m certain Bluestar would have given you the right to go where you like on ThunderClan territory. There’s no reason for me not to make that official now. I will tell the rest of the Clan as well.”

Ravenpaw dipped his head. “Thank you.” As he looked up again, Firestar saw a glow of respect in his eyes. “You saved my life once, Firestar. I’ll never be able to repay you for that. But if trouble with Tigerstar comes, I’ll be proud to with the warriors of ThunderClan and fight him to the death.”

A cream-colored tom walked into the barn, a rabbit clenched in his teeth and his eyes alight with triumph. He dropped the rabbit to the floor and exclaimed, “I knew I could catch a rabbit here!”

Cherrykit and and Molekit darted to him, wreathing around his legs. “Berrynose!” they exclaimed. Firestar knew at once that he must be their father.

“You were gone for a long time,” Poppyfrost meowed. “Please tell me you didn’t go all the way to WindClan and steal it from them.”

“They wouldn’t have caught me if I did,” Berrynose boasted. “And they wouldn’t know who I was anyway.”

Poppyfrost glared at him. “They would recognize your scent as ThunderClan. That would be a problem.”

He scoffed. “How could that be a problem? It’s not like–” He broke off with a start as his eyes landed on Firestar.

“I can tell you’re a pawful,” Fireheart observed.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Sorreltail snorted.

Berrynose was still staring at Firestar. “So…uh…what did I miss?”

Chapter Text

Twilight was thickening the shadows under the trees by the time Firestar and Cinderpelt and the newest time travelers slipped down the ravine toward the camp entrance. They had slept in the barn with Barley and Ravenpaw until the sun was well above the horizon, and feasted again on plump mice and the rabbit Berrynose had caught before they set off for their own territory. Though Firestar was tired, some of the horror of his dream was fading, and he was looking forward to seeing his Clanmates again, and to seeing the time travelers’ reaction to the arrival of Cinderheart’s family.

Before he entered the camp, he ordered the time travelers to wait outside of the gorse tunnel, pointing out that the Clan would already be overwhelmed by his return.

At first the new leader emerged unnoticed from the gorse tunnel with Cinderpelt. Whitestorm and Brackenfur were sitting together near the nettle patch, finishing off some fresh-kill, while three of the apprentices wrestled playfully outside their den. Honeypaw and Hollypaw were creeping across the clearing towards where Redpaw spoke calmly with Darkstripe. Firestar picked out the dark tabby pelt of his own apprentice, Bramblepaw, and reminded himself to get him back onto a strict training schedule as soon as he could. There was no reason why leadership duties should prevent him from mentoring the young cat — after all, Bluestar had been a diligent mentor to him.

He was padding over to Whitestorm when he heard his name yowled loudly, and turned to see Ashpaw racing across the clearing from the elders’ den. The apprentice’s gray fur was bristling with excitement. “Fireheart — no, Firestar! You’re back!”

His noisy greeting alerted the rest of the Clan and soon they were pressing around Firestar, calling him by his new name and welcoming him home. Firestar wanted to give himself up to the uncomplicated enjoyment of their warm fur pressed against his, but he could not ignore the awe in their eyes as they gazed at him. He felt a sharp pang in his heart as he was reminded yet again of the new distance between himself and the rest of his Clan.

“Did you really see StarClan?” asked Fernpaw, her eyes wide.

“I really did,” Firestar replied. “But I’m not allowed to say anything about the ceremony.”

Fernpaw didn’t look disappointed. Her eyes brimming with admiration, she turned to Dustpelt and meowed, “I bet he’s going to be a great leader!”

“He’ll be better than Tigerstar could ever be,” replied Dustpelt, though Firestar was well aware that he had never been Dustpelt’s favorite cat. But the brown-coated warrior gave him a nod of respect, and Firestar knew that Dustpelt’s loyalty to the warrior code would ensure his support.

“It’s good to see you back,” meowed Graystripe, shouldering through the warriors to reach Firestar’s side. At least he seemed to have recovered from the awe he’d felt when Bluestar had named Firestar leader as she lay dying. Now his yellow eyes were filled with friendship and sympathy. “You look like a fox that’s been dead for a moon. Was it tough?”

“It was,” Firestar murmured, just for Graystripe’s ears, but Cloudtail caught what he had said.

“It’s only your belief in ancient traditions that makes you think you can’t be leader without dragging all the way up to Highstones and back. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already proved yourself to be the true leader of this Clan, Firestar.”

Firestar gave his kin a hard stare; he was grateful for Cloudtail’s loyalty and respect, but felt as frustrated as ever that the younger cat did not share his beliefs. He wished he could tell the white warrior exactly what he had experienced, if only to shock him into respect for StarClan, but he knew that was impossible.

“Shh! The ancient traditions still matter.” The quiet rebuke came from Brightheart, who had come to join Cloudtail. She licked his ear and added, “StarClan watch over us all.”

Cloudtail returned the lick, his tongue passing gently over Brightheart’s face. Firestar’s annoyance faded. He couldn’t help admiring Cloudtail’s unwavering devotion to Brightheart. His kin might be difficult and hotheaded, with little respect for the warrior code, but he had an intense love for the she-cat he had trained beside.

As the welcoming cats began to disperse, Firestar caught the eye of Whitestorm, who had greeted him and then backed off a pace or two, waiting to speak.

“How are things in camp?” Firestar asked. “Was there any trouble while I was away?”

“Not a thing,” the senior warrior reported. “We’ve patrolled the whole territory, and there’s no sign of dogs or of ShadowClan.”

“Good,” Firestar mewed. Glancing at the well-stocked fresh-kill pile, he added, “I see some cats have been hunting.”

“Sandstorm took a patrol out, and Mousefur and Brackenfur put the apprentices to work,” replied Whitestorm. “Bramblepaw is a skillful hunter. I lost count of how much prey he brought in.”

“Good,” Firestar repeated. He felt a deep pleasure at hearing about his apprentice’s success. If Bramblepaw was this capable know, with barely any training, he would be a credit to his Clan by the time he was a warrior.

Whitestorm looked at him for a moment. “Ivypool’s awake.”

“I know,” Firestar replied.

The white warrior didn’t look surprised. “I supposed you would. She said that you saved her.”

“Did she say how?”

“She didn’t, only that it was your choice to tell that part.”

Firestar nodded. “I won’t explain right now. There’s a lot more important things to worry about.”

Cinderpelt came up to him again. “I’m off to my den,” she meowed. “Call me if you want anything. Have you remembered that you need to appoint a deputy before moonhigh?”

Firestar nodded. Other duties had been more urgent, but now he needed to give this decision serious thought. Because she had been so shocked by Tigerstar’s treachery and exile, Bluestar had almost made Firestar’s own appointment a day late, without the proper ceremony. The Clan had been terrified that StarClan would be angry, and that had made things very difficult for Firestar. He was determined not to make the same mistake with his own deputy.

Watching Cinderpelt limping across the clearing to her den, Firestar realized that so far two cats had not come to greet him. One was Darkstripe; that did not surprise him. The other was Sandstorm, and that disturbed him. Had he done something to make her angry?

Then Firestar spotted her a few tail-lengths away, watching him with a relieved air. Her green eyes flickered toward him and away again as he padded over to her.

“Sandstorm,” he mewed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Firestar.” She met his gaze, but there was a look of faint frustration. “It’s good to have you back.”

Now Firestar was certain something was wrong. He had been looking forward all the long journey home to seeing Sandstorm again. “What is it?” he meowed in confusion.

She snorted. “Squirrelkit refused to go to sleep,” she grumbled, though he could hear the fondness in her voice. “I didn’t want to leave until then.”

Firestar purred. “She’s going to be a pawful when she’s old enough to run around camp.”

To his relief he felt Sandstorm relax, and some of the loving annoyance faded from her eyes. “You’ll need an evening patrol,” she mewed. Her voice was crisp, more like the old Sandstorm, though Firestar guessed she was covering up her unhappiness. “Shall I round up some cats and go?”

“Good idea.” Firestar tried to match her businesslike manner. “Go and have a sniff around Sunningrocks. Make sure RiverClan haven’t been up to their old tricks.” It would be just like Leopardstar, the ambitious leader of RiverClan, to try to claim the long-disputed territory while ThunderClan was shaken by the loss of Bluestar. “But I think it would be best if you sent our grandkits and Cinderheart. There are some cats outside the gorse tunnel, more time travelers. I want them all to properly catch up with each other before I introduce the newcomers.” A heartbeat later, he heard Darkstripe let out a shocked and furious yowl. “Oh, and Hollypaw and Honeypaw can keep an eye on their kits.”

“Right.” Not questioning why there were kits included with this group of time travelers. Sandstorm hurried off, first to collect the apprentices and apologize to Darkstripe, and then to get the warriors Firestar had chosen.

Firestar made his way toward the leader’s den. He still couldn’t think of it as his own, and he found himself missing his comfy patch of moss in the warriors’ den and the warm nest in the nursery even more sharply. Before he reached it, he heard his name being called and turned to see Graystripe hurrying after him.

“Firestar, I wanted to tell you — ” He broke off as if he were embarrassed.

“What’s the problem?”

“Well. . .” Graystripe hesitated and then went on in a rush: “I don’t know if you were thinking of choosing me to be your deputy, but I wanted to say that you don’t have to. I know I haven’t been back in the Clan long enough, and some cats still don’t trust me. I won’t be hurt if you pick another cat.”

Firestar felt a pang of regret. He would have chosen Graystripe above all other cats to hunt and fight by his side, and to give him the special support that a deputy gave the Clan leader. But it was true that he could not choose Graystripe so soon after his friend’s return from RiverClan. Though Firestar himself had no doubt of his friend’s loyalty to ThunderClan, Graystripe still had to prove himself before the rest of the Clan would accept him.

Leaning forward, Firestar touched noses with his friend. “Thank you, Graystripe,” he mewed. “I’m glad you understand.”

Graystripe shrugged, more embarrassed than ever. “I just wanted to say.” He turned and vanished through the branches of the warrior’s den.

Firestar felt choked with emotion and shook himself briskly. Padding around the Highrock to the den entrance, he heard movement inside. Ashpaw, one of the two oldest apprentices, whirled around as Firestar went in.

“Oh Firestar!” he exclaimed. “Whitestorm told me to fetch you some new bedding — and some freshkill.” He flicked his tail to the far side of the den, where a rabbit lay beside a thick pile of moss and heather.

“That looks great, Ashpaw,” Firestar meowed. “Thank you — and thank Whitestorm for me.”

The ginger apprentice dipped his head and started to leave, only to halt as Firestar called him back.

“Remind Dustpelt and Owltuft to have a word with me tomorrow,” Firestar mewed, naming Ashpaw, and his sister Fernpaw’s mentors. “It’s about time we started thinking about your warrior ceremony.” It’s overdue, he reflected. Ashpaw had proved himself an able and truly loyal apprentice, as had his sister, and their brothers had been made warriors recently after proving themselves in a battle against RiverClan.

Ashpaw’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes, Firestar! Thanks!” he meowed. Then he hesitated. “You’ll give me a different name, right? I don’t want to be Ashfur.

“I promised you I’d give you another name,” Firestar meowed. “After meeting Ashfur last night, I can honestly say you’re nothing like him. All you share is appearance, and if Bramblepaw is anything to go by, it’s that appearances do not make a cat.”

Ashpaw shot him a relieved smile and dashed off.

Firestar settled himself in the mossy nest and took a few mouthfuls of the rabbit. It had been thoughtful of Whitestorm to have the bedding changed, though Firestar still felt that Bluestar’s scent lingered in the very walls of the den. Perhaps it always would, and that was no bad thing. There was pain in his memories of her, but comfort too, when he thought of her wisdom and her courage in leading her Clan.

Shadows gathered around him as the last of the light died. Firestar was acutely conscious of being completely alone for the first time since joining the Clan: no warmth of other cats sleeping close by, no soft meows and purrs as his friends shared tongues, no gentle snoring or the sound of cats shifting in their dreams. For a few heartbeats he felt lonelier than ever.

Then he told himself to stop being so mouse-brained. He had an important decision to make, and it was vital for ThunderClan that he get it right. His choice of deputy would affect the life of the Clan for seasons to come.

Settling deeper into the moss, he wondered whether he ought to sleep now, and ask StarClan in a dream which cat would be the right deputy. He closed his eyes and almost at once he caught a trace of Bluestar’s scent. But no vision came; he could see only darkness.

Then he heard a whisper in his ear, filled with Bluestar’s gentle teasing. “Oh, no, Firestar. This is your decision.”

Sighing, Firestar opened his eyes again. “All right, Bluestar,” he mewed aloud. “I’ll decide.”

The deputy could not be Graystripe, that was clear, and Firestar was grateful to his friend for making that part of his choice easy for him. He let his mind drift over the other possible cats. The new deputy would have to be experienced, and a d never been questioned. Sandstorm was brave and intelligent, and he loved her more than any cat.

But that was not the right reason to choose a deputy.

And was Sandstorm really the right choice anyway? Surely there was one cat who towered over all the other possibilities? Whitestorm was experienced, wise, and brave. When Firestar had been made deputy, he had shown not a scrap of the resentment that a lesser cat might have felt. He had supported him from the beginning, and he was the cat Firestar naturally turned to when he needed advice. He was old, yes, but still strong and active. There were a good few moons left before he would be joining the elders in their den. And both of them could rely on the support of the three senior warriors: Sweetmint, Goldenflower, and Nighthunter.

Bluestar would approve, too, for the white warrior’s friendship had meant a great deal to her in her last moons.

Yes, Firestar thought. Whitestorm will be the new deputy. He stretched in satisfaction. All that remained was to announce the decision to the Clan.

*  *  *  *  *

Cinderheart followed Sandstorm out of the camp. Her mind was still reeling from everything that had happened.

First, Hollyleaf had turned out to be alive, and along with another cat, Fallen Leaves, had rejoined ThunderClan. Then, Ivypool had healed and woken up and told them all about how Firestar and a group of StarClan cats, including Cinderheart’s littermates, had helped kill the Dark Forest warriors she’d been fighting and saved her. Now, Sandstorm was leading them to meet more time travelers.

The instant she saw the cats who were waiting there, her body went rigid. A shock like lightning ran through her pelt, and for a few heartbeats, she didn’t move. Then she was running, bounding, forward and thrust herself against her sister and mother.

“Oh, Sorreltail! Oh Poppyfrost!” she breathed. “I’ve missed you so much!” She stood there for a moment, purring, entwined with her family. Around her, she could sense the spirits of Honeyfern and Molepaw beside them, and by the way Sorretail’s purring grew stronger, she’d sensed them too. She felt pure joy filling her, and she wished she could stay like this forever.

After a moment she stepped back, getting a good look at the newcomers. They honestly didn’t look much different, though both Poppyfrost and Sorreltail looked happier than she’d seen them in a long time.

“Great, Berrynose is here too,” Jayfeather grumbled from behind her. Surprised, she looked up to see her sister’s cream-colored mate, having not noticed him until Jayfeather had spoken.

“Aren’t you happy to see him too?” Sandstorm commented in surprise.

Lionblaze and Jayfeather shrugged in unison. “Not really.”

“Hey!” Berrynose growled.

“And why not?” Sandstorm pressed, studying all three toms with narrowed eyes. Cinderheart suppressed a purr of amusement at their antics.

“He’s a pain in the tail.” “He’s too smothering of his mate.” Once again they spoke in unison.

Berrynose glared at them. “I’ll have you know we talked things over and Poppyfrost showed me that I hadn’t been treating her the way I should.”

“He’s gotten a lot better,” Poppyfrost agreed. “Please try to not fight each other while we’re here. We have other enemies to deal with.”

Cherrykit ducked out from behind Berrynose. “Cinderheart!” she exclaimed. She darted forward and pressed against Cinderheart’s legs, followed quickly by Molepaw. “We missed you!”

“I missed you too, little ones,” Cinderheart purred, touching her nose to each of theirs.

Molekit turned to look at Hollypaw and Honeypaw. “Who are they?”

“Well, you know how you’re Poppyfrost and Berrynose’s kits?” Cinderheart meowed. The two kits nodded eagerly. “Well those two cats are Honeypaw and Hollypaw. They’re my kits.”

Sorreltail let out a proud gasp. “You have kits too!”

Cinderheart nodded. “Yes. Kits, this is Sorreltail, my mother, Poppyfrost, my sister, Cherrykit and Molekit, my nieces, as Robinpaw and Redpaw would say, and Berrynose, their father.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Hollypaw purred. “Lionblaze and Cinderheart have told us a lot about you.”

Honeypaw snorted. “And then you casually blurt out everything you can whenever you feel like it.”

“No, I don’t!”

“The first time Firestar was really panicking about Bramblepaw’s similar appearance to Tigerstar, you referenced the journey to the sun-drown-place, Bone and Jaggedtooth in the BloodClan battle, and called our grandfather a ‘random WindClan cat’.”

“You were asleep for that!”

“Well, I wasn’t asleep when you told Bramblepaw about Firestar saving Ones-whisker and kit from a falling tree, and the eclipse! You have no self-control when it comes to spoiling future information.”

“If we weren’t told future stuff as bedtime stories, then I wouldn’t have a problem with sharing it.”

Cinderheart sighed. “Both of you, knock it off. You’re supposed to be showing Molekit and Cherrykit around camp.”

Her kits didn’t hear her. “And yesterday you tried to warn Sorrelkit about deathberries!” Honeypaw hissed.

“Honeypaw, Hollypaw, enough!” Lionblaze growled. They startled and turned to stare at him. “Go bring the kits into camp. Firestar wants to keep you occupied so you stop torturing Darkstripe. Robinpaw does that enough on her own.”

The four young cats and Sandstorm left the group. Meanwhile, Sorretail gave a strangled gasp. “Darkstripe!” Cinderheart could see the blaze of fury in her eyes.

The adult time travelers began their patrol.

Cinderheart nodded. “Unfortunately, that mangepelt is still in ThunderClan right now.”

Poppyfrost frowned. “Can’t we just tell Firestar everything and get him kicked out right now?”

Lionblaze shook head angrily. “As time travelers, we’re not allowed to provide testimony unless we’re backing up something another cat has already learned everything on their own.”

“We can’t change this anyway,” Sorreltail muttered, her voice hard. “What Darkstripe does to me is something that shapes the cat I am for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” Jayfeather murmured. “If it’s any consolation, Dovewing and Ivypool humiliated that mangepelt when we first showed up in this time, and Honeypaw, Hollypaw, and Robinpaw have been torturing him whenever they get the chance.”

“That does make me feel better,” Sorreltail admitted, her voice still hard. “I want to rip him apart this time. That traitor doesn’t deserve ThunderClan.”

Poppyfrost pressed against her side. “He won’t be here for long. And in the meantime, we have to focus on the good that’s come of this. I get to see my sisters and brother again, I get to meet my sister’s kits–” She paused and looked at Hollyleaf. “I get to see an old friend who I thought was dead.”

Sorreltail smiled faintly. “I get to see the family I lost,” she whispered.

“And young Leafpool,” Lionblaze added.

It was as if he suggested fishing in the lake. Cinderheart winced at the look of sheer disbelief on her mother’s face.

“Leafpool isn’t alive,” Sorreltail corrected. “She and Squirrelflight won’t be born for moons.”

Jayfeather shook his head. “Nope, all three of Firestar and Sandstorm’s kits were born before the dog attack.”

“Three kits!” Sorreltail’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

“We were sent to make changes,” Lionblaze protested. “Is it really a bad thing that he and Sandstorm had kits sooner than they did in the original timeline?”

“The reason he and Sandstorm didn’t have kits for so long is because of Firestar’s love for Spot–” Sorreltail broke off when Jayfeather winced. “What did you do?”

He growled. “I didn’t do anything. I acted as a medicine cat because I am one. If that happened to mean that Firestar didn’t see Spottedleaf as much as he did before, then I don’t see a problem with it. It was better for every cat involved.”

“You can’t just go around messing with relationships,” Poppyfrost reprimanded. “What if you jeopardize the existence of some of our Clanmates.”

Lionblaze snorted. “Yeah, Firestar and Sandstorm having one more kit isn’t the problem we have to worry about.”

“And what’s the problem?” Berrynose asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

“Dustpelt may or may not have a different mate.” Jayfeather’s words were matter-of-fact.

Sorreltail was not. “How did that happen? What about Ferncloud?”

Cinderheart winced. “How much did Whitewing and Birchfall tell you about when we’ve been?”

“Just that you went back to join ThunderClan for a battle during Bluestar’s apprentice days and then were sent forward to join at the same time as Firestar,” Poppyfrost said quickly.

“That’s not entirely true,” Lionblaze mewed, avoiding Sorreltail’s very concerned eyes. “Most of us were sent to join with Firestar…but Jayfeather stayed in the past for a while and ended up saving Tigerstar’s sisters. Both of them had kits, and one of those litters grew up and trained alongside Firestar’s apprentice generation.” He paused.

Sorreltail didn’t seem to appreciate the pause. “Keep going.”

Hollyleaf cut in before he could. “I should add that I was sent back to Bluestar’s apprenticeship, but I never moved forward with everyone else.”

“You’ve been here for seasons!” Berrynose gasped. Hollyleaf shrugged.

“She saved a bunch of cats,” Cinderheart added helpfully. “She even helped form a new group of cats to help fight BloodClan.”

“That’s not the reason,” Hollyleaf protested. “They joined us because they saw how much we cared about honor and protecting others.”

“Lionblaze, keep going,” Sorreltail ordered.

He sighed, but continued. “After her sister Softpaw died fighting ShadowClan, and the other apprentices weren’t made warriors, Stripestalk started to grow closer to Dustpelt. We didn’t notice at the time because there were a bunch of other problems to deal with, and by the time we did, Tigerstar had exposed himself as a traitor.”

“So…where exactly is this Stripestalk?” Sorretail asked smoothly. “I suspect I’d like to meet her.”

The long-term time travelers, including Hollyleaf, all flinched and shot nervous looks at each other. How in StarClan are we supposed to explain this? Cinderheart wondered, suddenly realizing how Dustpelt must have felt trying to tell Nighthunter what her daughter had chosen to do.

“She is in ThunderClan, isn’t she?” Berrynose prompted.

Lionblaze groaned and decided to answer for the group. “Not exactly. She, uh, decided that it would be best for her join Tigerdung so she could spy on him.”

“She did what!?” Sorreltail exclaimed.

“Hey, it did work,” Lionblaze added quickly. “He trusted her so much that he made her ShadowClan deputy.”

For a moment there was silence.

“You complete mouse-brains!”

*  *  *  *  *

Firestar waited for a while, finishing the rabbit, drowsing but not letting himself fall into deep sleep in case he missed moonhigh. Silver light seeped into the den as the moon rose. Eventually he got to his paws, shook the scraps of moss from his fur, and padded out into the clearing.

Several of the Clan were pacing among the ferns at the edge, obviously waiting for the announcement. The evening patrol had returned and were eating their share of the fresh-kill, though Sorreltail seemed incredibly on edge. Firestar flicked his tail in greeting to Sandstorm as she padded out of the nursery, but did not go over to speak to her. Instead he sprang up onto the Highrock and yowled, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”

His summons was still ringing in the air when more cats began to appear, slipping from the shelter of their dens or padding into the moonlight from the shadows around the edges of the camp. Firestar saw Darkstripe stalk into the open and sit a few tail-lengths away from the rock, his tail wrapped around his paws and a scornful look in his eyes. Unobtrusively, Brackenfur followed him and took up a position close by. Less unobtrusively, Robinpaw took up a position close by on the opposite side.

Bramblepaw emerged from the apprentices’ den; Firestar couldn’t help wondering if he would go join some of the other cats, but he stayed with his sister, Tawnypaw, near the edge of the gathering crowd. The eyes of both apprentices were watchful, flicking back and forth. As Mousefur walked past them she snapped at Tawnypaw, and the younger she-cat turned her head away sharply, as if she and Mousefur had disagreed over something. Tawnypaw was bright and very confident, Firestar reflected; he wouldn’t be surprised if she offended the experienced warriors now and then.

Hollypaw and Honeypaw escorted Molekit and Cherrykit from the nursery and brought them to sit with Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw. Cherrykit immediately began speaking animatedly to the apprentices, and from the look on Bramblepaw’s face especially, the things she was saying were likely revealing future information.

Sandstorm and Graystripe were sitting together near the rock, close to Cloudtail and Brightheart, and the elders all came out in a group and settled down in the center of the clearing.

Firestar saw Whitestorm strolling over from the nettle patch with Cinderpelt. There was no air of anticipation about him as he stopped for a quick word with Fernpaw and Ashpaw before taking his own place beside the Highrock.

Swallowing his nervousness, Firestar began. “The time has come to appoint a new deputy.” Pausing, he felt the presence of Bluestar very close to him as he remembered the ritual words she used to speak. “I say these words before StarClan,” he continued, “that the spirits of our ancestors may hear and approve my choice.”

By now all the cats had turned their faces up to him; he looked down at their eyes gleaming in the moonlight and could almost taste their excitement.

“Whitestorm will be the new deputy of ThunderClan,” he announced.

For a heartbeat there was silence. Whitestorm was blinking up at Firestar, a look of pleasure and surprise spreading over his face. Firestar realized that the surprise was part of what he liked so much about the old warrior; Whitestorm had never assumed that he would be the one chosen.

Slowly he rose to his paws. “Firestar, cats of ThunderClan,” he meowed, “I never expected to be given this honor. I swear by StarClan that I will do all I can to serve you.”

As he finished speaking, sound gradually swelled from the assembled cats, a mixture of yowls and purrs and voices calling, “Whitestorm!” Sorreltail’s voice was the loudest of all, which made sense, considering she was his daughter. There was a bittersweet note to her cheers, and Firestar couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened to his new deputy at some point in the future. All the Clan began to press around the white warrior, congratulating him. Firestar knew that he had made a very popular choice.

For a few moments he remained on the Highrock and watched. A new feeling of optimism surged through his paws, filling him with confidence and warmth. He had his nine lives; he had the best deputy a cat could wish for; and he had a team of warriors who were ready to face anything. The threat of the pack was over, and they had more friends from the future: Firestar had to believe that soon they would be able to drive Tigerstar out of the forest for good.

Then, just as he was poised to leap down and offer his own good wishes to Whitestorm, he caught sight of Darkstripe. He alone of all the cats had not moved or spoken. He was staring up at Firestar, and his eyes burned with cold fire. Sorreltail had noticed as well, and she was glaring at Darkstripe with all the hatred Tigerstar had ever shown Firestar.

Firestar was instantly reminded of the dreadful vision in the ceremony, the hill of bones and the tide of blood that had flowed from it. Bluestar’s words rang in his ears again: Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest.

Firestar still did not know what the prophecy meant, but the words were laden with doom. He thought faintly of Scorch’s reference to the Twolegplace group BloodClan. There would be battle and bloodshed. And in Darkstripe’s malignant stare, Firestar seemed to see the first cloud that would eventually unleash the storm of war.

Chapter Text

A raw, damp cold pushed its way through Firestar’s fur as he padded through Tallpines. The sky was heavy with gray cloud and seemed undecided between sending rain or snow onto the forest. Here, where the ravages of the fire had been worst, ash still covered the ground, and the few plants that had begun to grow back had shriveled again with the coining of leaf-bare.

It was the day after his announcement to the Clan, and Firestar had left his new deputy in charge of the camp while he patrolled the border alone. He wanted some time by himself, to get used to being leader and to think about what lay ahead. Sometimes he felt he would burst with the pride of being chosen by StarClan to lead ThunderClan, but he also knew it would not be easy. Grief for Bluestar was a dull ache that would stay with him forever. And he was afraid of what Tigerstar might do next. Firestar could not be comfort e d, as the other cats were, by the absence of any traces of ShadowClan in their territory. He knew Tigerstar would not rest until he had brought his enemy down — and news that Firestar was now the leader of ThunderClan would only fuel the fires of his revenge.

Firestar emerged from the trees near Twolegplace and looked up at Princess’s fence to see if his sister had ventured out of her Twoleg nest. But there was no sign of her, and when he drank in the air he caught only a faint scent. Padding along the edge of the trees, Firestar came to a part of the forest he rarely visited, and recognized the Twoleg nest where he himself had lived as a kittypet, so many moons ago. Overcome by curiosity, he darted across the stretch of open ground at the edge of the trees and leaped to the top of the fence.

Memories of playing there as a kit flooded over him as he looked down at the stretch of grass bordered by Twoleg plants. There was a more recent memory, too, of coming here to find catnip when Bluestar was ill with greencough. Firestar could see the clump of catnip now from where he was sitting, and smell its tempting scent.

A flicker of movement from the nest caught his gaze, and he saw one of his old Twolegs pass by the window and disappear again. Firestar suddenly wondered how his Twolegs had felt when he left them to live in the forest. He hoped they hadn’t worried about him. They had cared for him well, in the way that Twolegs tried to, and Firestar knew he would always be grateful. He would have liked to tell them how happy he was in the forest, and how he was fulfilling the destiny StarClan had laid out for him, but he knew there was no way he could make Twolegs understand.

He was bunching his muscles, ready to leap down into the forest, when something black and white moved in the next garden. Glancing down, he saw Smudge, his old friend from his kittypet days. He looked as plump as ever, with a contented expression on his broad face. He was talking to a pretty brown tabby she-cat, a stranger to Firestar; their mews reached him but they were too far away for him to make out the words.

He almost jumped down to say hello, until he remembered that they would probably be frightened by the sight of a ruffian like himself. Not long after coming to the forest, Firestar had met Smudge in the woods, and nearly scared the life out of him before his friend recognized him. The life he led now was worlds away from theirs.

The sound of a door opening roused Firestar from his thoughts, and he edged along the fence into the shelter of a holly bush as one of his old Twolegs came out of the house and called. At once the pretty brown tabby meowed good-bye to Smudge and scrambled under the fence that divided the gardens. She ran up to the Twoleg, who scooped her up and stroked her before carrying her indoors, purring loudly.

She’s their new kittypet! Firestar thought. The closing of the door stirred a pang of envy in him, just for a heartbeat. The little tabby would have no need to catch her prey before she could eat; she would have a warm place to sleep, and no risk of dying in battle or from one of the many dangers that beset the forest cats. She would have the friendship of Smudge and other kittypets, and the care of her Twolegs — everything that Firestar had turned his back on to live as a Clan cat in the forest.

But at the same time she would never know the satisfaction of learning warrior skills, or of racing into battle beside her friends. She would never understand what it meant to live by the warrior code, and to follow the will of StarClan.

If I could relive my life, Firestar thought, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Suddenly claws scrabbled on the fence below him and from the comer of his eye he caught a glimpse of quick, brown movement. Turning his head, he found himself face-to-face with Bramblepaw.

It was a moment before Firestar recovered himself enough to speak. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you from camp, Firestar. I. . .I was curious about where you were going, and I wanted to practice my tracking skills.”

“Well, they seem good enough, if you got this far.” Firestar wasn’t sure whether he was angry with his apprentice or not. Bramblepaw shouldn’t have followed him without permission, but it was impressive to have tracked him all the way from the camp. He wondered why all the apprentices he had been assigned publicly had such a natural talent for sneaking away from camp He felt a twinge of guilt, too, that Bramblepaw should have caught him looking over a Twoleg fence at a pair of kittypets. Once before, when Firestar was an apprentice, Tigerstar had spied on him and caught him talking to Smudge and later Fallen Leaves. The huge tabby had reported straight back to Bluestar, deliberately calling into question Firestar’s loyalty to Clan life.

Meeting Bramblepaw’s eyes, Firestar saw the young cat’s nervousness fading, to be replaced by a steady gaze, as if he were weighing his mentor up. It was a long, intelligent look, and Firestar realized that he could see respect in the amber depths. He was aware yet again of his certainty that Bramblepaw could be an outstanding warrior.

“Can I trust you with something?” Firestar blurted out suddenly.

The young cat seemed surprised, but he didn’t rush to answer. Instead Bramblepaw held him with that serious gaze for a moment more. “Can I trust you with things?” he responded, twitching his ears in the direction of the Twoleg garden.

Sighing, Firestar wondered if it was necessary for him to justify himself to his apprentice; it was not Bramblepaw’s place to question the actions of his mentor — who also happened to be Clan leader. But in spite of the guilt Bramblepaw’s question had provoked, Firestar couldn’t help admiring the spirit that had dared to ask, and there was no malice or hostility in the question.

He took a deep breath. “You can trust me,” he promised solemnly. “I chose to leave my life as a kittypet. Whatever happens, I’ll always put the Clan first.” It was time, he decided, to be more open with Bramblepaw. “But I do come here now and again,” he continued. “I see my sister sometimes and occasionally her mate, and I wonder how things would have been if I’d stayed. Yet I always leave knowing that my heart lies with ThunderClan.”

Bramblepaw gave a little nod, as if the answer satisfied him. “I know what it’s like to have loyalties questioned,” he meowed.

Another pang of guilt stabbed Firestar, even though it had been a long time since he’d had suspicions about his apprentice, and he knew several cats still did. “How do you get on with the other apprentices?” he asked.

“They’re okay. Honeypaw and Hollypaw are our best friends, and Robinpaw’s pretty fun even though she has a tendency to plot ways to kill Tigerstar. But I know some of the warriors don’t like me and Tawnypaw, because Tigerstar’s our father.”

The words were spoken with such understanding that Firestar was even more ashamed of himself for doing something sooner. We’re more alike than I ever realized, Firestar thought. Constantly having to prove our loyalties by fighting twice as hard, defending ourselves twice as much to our enemies — and to our Clanmates.

“Can you cope with that?” he meowed cautiously.

Bramblepaw blinked. “I know where my loyalties lie. I’ll prove that someday.”

There was no boasting in the way he spoke, just calm determination. Firestar realized that he believed him. His apprentice had rewarded him for his honesty about visiting Twolegplace by being honest with him in return. Now, Firestar knew he owed it to Bramblepaw to trust his word.

“What about Tawnypaw?” he asked.

“Well. . .” Her brother hesitated, a troubled look in his eyes. “She can be a bit difficult at times — but it’s just her way. She’s a loyal cat at heart.”

“I’m sure she is,” Firestar mewed, though he noticed that Bramblepaw wasn’t entirely at ease discussing his sister with the Clan leader. He would need to keep a closer eye on Tawnypaw in future, and make sure she had all the support she needed to become a reliable ThunderClan warrior. A word with her mentor, Lightfrost, would be a good idea.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with suspicion like that,” he meowed quietly. “If there’s two problems Clan cats have, it’s that they don’t trust outsiders easily and they hold long grudges. Often they take out the anger of those grudges on innocent cats.

“Do I count as an innocent cat?”

Firestar found his sympathy growing. “Every cat is innocent until they choose to do something that they know is wrong. I know that you’re loyal, but if you ever find yourself struggling with something, no matter what it is, you can talk to me.”

“Thank you, Firestar.” Bramblepaw’s gaze brightened. “What was the thing you wanted to tell me about?”

For a heartbeat, Firestar was confused. What was I going to tell him? Then he remembered. “What I told you about visiting my sister and her mate was true, but they aren’t the only cats I’ve met in Twolegplace.”

“Who else did you meet?” Bramblepaw asked curiously.

“You know Hollyleaf, right?”

Bramblepaw nodded. “Yeah, she took me and the other apprentices out hunting while you were getting your nine lives.”

“She did?” His granddaughter had never mentioned that to him. “How’d it go?”

“Hollyleaf’s a brilliant hunter! She managed to catch a lot of prey, even though there isn’t that much right now. It’s like she focused specifically on hunting at one point when she was younger.”

Funny, she actually did focus on hunting, during her apprenticeship. Hollyleaf had told him the story during one of their conversations back when he was training Cinderpelt and Brackenfur.

“Well, what I wanted to tell you is that I met Hollyleaf long before she joined us after the dog pack,” Firestar told him.

“Really?” Bramblepaw sounded incredulous. “When did you meet her?”

“I met her the same day I met my sister,” Firestar explained. “I didn’t know who she was right away. It wasn’t until Lionblaze and Cinderheart had their kits and I realized how similar Hollypaw looked to Hollyleaf that I figured it out. Strangely enough, Robinpaw and Redpaw nearly spoiled the secret for her, but I was more focused on figuring out what happened to Redtail.”

Bramblepaw laughed. “What, time traveler kits spilling a secret? Nah, that wouldn’t happen.” His eyes were brimming with amusement.

Filled with warmth toward his apprentice, Firestar added, “I’ve got to get on if I’m to finish patrolling the border before dark. Do you want to come with me?”

Bramblepaw’s amber eyes lit up. “Can I?”

“Sure.” Firestar leaped down from the fence and waited for the young cat to scramble down behind him. “We’ll do some training on the way.”

“Great!” Bramblepaw meowed enthusiastically.

He padded close to his mentor’s shoulder as Firestar led the way back into the trees.

Firestar halted on the edge of the Thunderpath and drew in the scent that flowed across from ShadowClan territory. Tigerstar is out there, he thought. What is he planning? What will he do next?

As he stood wrapped in silent apprehension, he noticed scraps of white drifting down from the sky. Snow! Firestar thought, glancing up at a sky where the clouds were darker than ever. Hearing a surprised squeak from Bramblepaw, he turned around. A snowflake had landed on Bramblepaw’s nose and was slowly melting. The apprentice flicked out a pink tongue and licked it off, his yellow eyes round with wonder.

“What is it, Firestar?” he asked. “It’s cold!”

Firestar let out a purr of amusement. “It’s snow,” he replied. “It comes in leaf-bare. If it goes on like this, the flakes will cover all the ground and the trees.”

“Really? But they’re so tiny!”

“There will be lots of them, though.”

The flakes were already growing larger and falling more thickly, almost hiding the trees on the other side of the Thunderpath and smothering the ShadowClan scent. Even the roar of the monsters was muffled and they moved slowly, as if their glowing eyes couldn’t see well through the snow.

Firestar knew that snowfall would bring more problems to the forest. Prey would die in the cold, or huddle deep in holes where hunters could not follow. It would be harder than ever to feed the Clan.

His apprentice was watching the falling flakes with wide eyes. Firestar saw him reach out one paw tentatively to dab at one of them. A heartbeat later he was leaping and whirling with high-pitched mews of excitement, as if he were trying to catch every single flake before it reached the ground.

Firestar was surprised by a rush of affection. It was good to see the young cat playing like a kit again. Surely the dark-hearted Tigerstar had never chased snowflakes just for the joy of it? Or if he had, when had he lost the joy, and begun to care only for his own power?

There was no answer to that question, and Firestar knew that for Tigerstar, just as much as for himself, there was no going back. Their paws were firmly on the path StarClan had decided they should follow, and sooner or later the two leaders must meet to decide who should remain in the forest.

The snow had stopped by the time Firestar and Bramblepaw return e d to camp. The clouds had cleared away and the setting sun cast long blue shadows over the thin coating of white that powder e d the ground. Both cats were carrying fresh-kill; Firestar had watched his apprentice’s hunting skills and been impressed by the young cat’s concentration and skillful stalking.

They had just reached the top of the ravine when they heard a yowl behind them. Firestar turned to see Graystripe bounding through the undergrowth.

“Hi,” panted the gray warrior as he caught up with them. His eyes widened when he saw their catch. “You’ve had better luck than me. I couldn’t find so much as a mouse.”

Firestar grunted sympathetically as he led the way toward the gorse tunnel. He noticed that Sorrelkit, the most adventurous of Willowpelt’s three kits, had left the camp and climbed halfway up the steep slope farther along the ravine. To Firestar’s surprise, she was with Darkstripe; the warrior was bending over her, saying something to her.

“Odd,” Firestar muttered through a mouthful of squirrel fur, half to himself. “Darkstripe has never shown much interest in kits before. And what’s he doing out here on his own?”

Suddenly Firestar heard a sharp exclamation from Graystripe and his friend flashed past him, hurtling along the side of the ravine, his paws scrabbling against the loose snow-covered stones. At the same moment Sorrelkit’s legs crumpled underneath her sturdy tortoiseshell body and she started writhing in the snow. Firestar dropped his fresh-kill in amazement as Graystripe yowled, “No!” and flung himself on the dark warrior. Darkstripe clawed and flailed at him with his hind legs, but Graystripe ’s teeth were sunk in his throat and would not let go.

“What-?” Firestar dashed down the slope with Bramblepaw right behind him. He dodged the fighting cats, still locked together in a whirlwind of teeth and claws, and reached Sorrelkit’s side.

The little kit twisted and turned on the ground, her eyes wide and glazed. She was letting out high-pitched moans of pain, and there was foam on her lips.

“Get Cinderpelt and Jayfeather!” Firestar ordered Bramblepaw.

His apprentice shot off, his paws sending up puffs of snow. Firestar bent over the young kit and placed a paw gently on her belly. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Cinderpelt is coming.”

Sorrelkit’s jaws gaped wide and Firestar caught a glimpse of half-chewed berries in her mouth, scarlet against her white teeth.

“Deathberries!” He gasped.

There was a dark- leaved shrub growing from a crack in the rock just above his head, with more of the lethal scarlet berries clustered among the leaves. He remembered a time many moons ago when Cinderpelt had appeared just in time to stop Cloudtail from eating the deathberries, and warned him of how poisonous they were. Later, Yellowfang had used them to kill her son, Brokentail; Firestar had seen for himself how quickly and fatally they worked.

Crouching over Sorrelkit, Firestar did his best to scoop the crushed berries out of her mouth, but the kit was in too much terror and pain to keep still and make his task easier. Her head thrashed from side to side, and her body was convulsing in regular spasms that to Fireheart’s horror seemed to be growing weaker. He could still hear Graystripe and Darkstripe screeching in the throes of their fight, but they seemed oddly far away. All his attention was concentrated on the kit.

Then to his relief he felt Cinderpelt arrive beside him. “Deathberries!” he told her quickly, “I’ve tried to get them out, but...”

Cinderpelt took his place by the kit’s side. She had a bundle of leaves in her mouth; setting them down, she mewed, “Good. Keep holding her, Firestar, while I take a look.”

With two of them to help, and the kit’s struggles definitely growing weaker, Cinderpelt was soon able to paw out the remains of the deathberries. Then she rapidly chewed up one of her leaves and stuffed the pulp into Sorrelkit’s mouth. “Swallow it,” she ordered. To Firestar she added, “It’s yarrow. It’ll make her sick.”

The kit’s throat convulsed. A moment later she vomited; Firestar could see more scarlet specks among the pulp of leaves.

“Good,” Cinderpelt mewed soothingly. “That’s very good. You’re going to be fine, Sorrelkit.”

The little kit lay gasping and trembling; then Firestar watched in dismay as she went limp and her eyes closed.

“Is she dead?” he whispered.

Before Cinderpelt could reply, a yowl came from the entrance to the camp. “My kit! Where’s my kit?” It was Willowpelt, racing up the ravine with Bramblepaw and Sorreltail. She crouched beside Sorrelkit, her blue eyes wide and distraught. “What happened?”

“She ate deathberries,” Cinderpelt explained. “But I think I’ve gotten rid of them all. We’ll carry her back to my den and I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Willowpelt began licking Sorrelkit’s tortoiseshell fur. By now Firestar had seen the faint rise and fall of the kit’s flank as she breathed. She was not dead, but he could see from Cinderpelt’s anxious look that she was still in danger from the effects of the poison.

If it weren’t for the fact that Sorreltail were standing there, glowering in the direction of the fight, he would have been deeply worried. Now though, he just hoped she would recover soon and wouldn’t suffer in the process.

For the first time Firestar had a chance to draw breath and look for Graystripe. The gray warrior had pinned Darkstripe down a few tail-lengths away with one paw on his neck and another on his belly.

Darkstripe was bleeding from one ear, and he spat in fury as he fought vainly to free himself.

“What’s going on?” Firestar demanded.

“Don’t ask me,” snarled Graystripe. Firestar could hardly remember seeing his friend look so savage. “Ask this. . .this piece of fox dung why he tried to murder a kit!”

“Murder?” Firestar echoed. The accusation was so unexpected that for a heartbeat he could do nothing but stare stupidly.

“Murder,” repeated Graystripe. “Go on, ask him why he was feeding deathberries to Sorrelkit.”

“You mouse-brained fool.” Darkstripe’s voice was cold as he gazed up at his attacker. “I wasn’t feeding her the berries. I was trying to stop her from eating them.”

Sorreltail let out a hiss. “Is that the story you want to go with?”

“I know what I saw,” Graystripe insisted through gritted teeth.

Firestar tried to recall the image of the warrior and the kit that he had seen when he paused at the top of the ravine. “Let him get up,” he meowed reluctantly to his friend. “Darkstripe, tell me what happened.”

The warrior rose and shook himself. Firestar could see bare patches on his flank where Graystripe had clawed out lumps of fur.

“I was coming back to camp,” he began. “I found the stupid kit stuffing herself with deathberries, and I was trying to stop her when this idiot jumped on me.” He stared resentfully at Graystripe. “Why would I want to murder a kit?”

“That’s what I want to know!” spat Graystripe.

“Of course, we know who the noble Firestar will believe!” Darkstripe sneered. “There’s no use expecting justice in ThunderClan these days.”

The accusation stung Firestar, all the more so because he recognized that there was a core of truth in it. He would take Graystripe ’s word over Darkstripe ’s any day, but he had to be absolutely certain that his friend wasn’t making a mistake.

“I don’t have to decide now,” Firestar meowed. “As soon as Sorrelkit wakes up, she’ll be able to tell us what happened.”

As he spoke he thought he saw a flicker of unease in Darkstripe’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly he could not be sure. The dark warrior twitched his ears contemptuously. “Fine,” he meowed. “Then you’ll see which of us is telling the truth.” He stalked off toward the camp entrance with tail held high.

“Darkstripe!” It was Sorreltail who called out. The dark warrior turned to face her. “Are you sure you want to wait for that? I can tell Firestar and the Clan everything. I remember this moment well.”

“No, you can’t,” Darkstripe growled. “Time travelers can’t give testimony.” He spun around and disappeared through the gorse tunnel.

“I did see it, Firestar,” Graystripe assured him, his sides heaving from the fight. “I can’t understand why he’d want to hurt Sorrelkit, but I’m quite sure that’s what he was doing.”

Firestar sighed. “I believe you, but we have to let every cat see that justice is done. I can’t punish Darkstripe until Sorrelkit tells us what happened.”

If she does soon, he added silently to himself. He watched Cinderpelt and Willowpelt gently picking up the kit and carrying her toward the gorse tunnel. Sorrelkit’s head lolled limply and her tail brushed the ground. Firestar’s belly clenched as he remembered the kit bouncing around the camp. If Darkstripe had really tried to kill her, he would pay. But the sheer fury in Sorreltail’s eyes and the way her pelt was bushed out left no question about what had happened.

“Graystripe,” he murmured, “go with Cinderpelt. I want you or another warrior on guard in her den until Sorrelkit wakes up. Ask Sandstorm and Goldenflower if they’ll help. I don’t want anything else to happen to Sorrelkit before she’s fit to talk.”

Graystripe’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “Okay, Firestar,” he meowed. “I’m on my way.”

“Don’t worry,” Sorreltail growled. “I’ll guard her. I’d love to claw that mangepelt to shreds if he tries anything.”

They bounded down the slope and caught up with the other cats as they disappeared into the tunnel.

Firestar was left in the ravine with Bramblepaw. “I’ve left a squirrel up there,” he meowed to his apprentice, jerking his head toward the top of the ravine. “Could you collect it for me, please? And then you can rest and eat. You’ve had a long day.”

“Thanks,” Bramblepaw mewed. He took a few steps up the ravine and glanced back. “Sorrelkit will be okay, won’t she?”

Firestar let out a long breath. “I don’t know, Bramblepaw,” he admitted. “I just don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Firestar made his way thoughtfully back into the camp. Glancing around, he caught sight of Darkstripe gulping down a piece of fresh-kill beside the nettle patch. Mousefur, Goldenflower, and Frostfur were eating close by, but Firestar noticed that they had all turned their backs on Darkstripe and were not looking at him.

Graystripe must have already begun to spread the news of what had happened in the ravine. Frostfur and Goldenflower in particular, who had both raised kits of their own, would be horrified by the very suspicion that a Clan warrior would murder a kit. It was a good sign, Firestar realized, if they seemed to believe Graystripe’s version of events. It showed that his friend was becoming accepted by the Clan again, beginning to recover the popularity he had once had.

Firestar was heading toward Graystripe when movement by the warriors’ den caught his eye.

Brackenfur was just emerging from between the branches, gazing wildly around. He spotted Darkstripe, took a step toward him, and then veered away to join Firestar.

“I’ve just heard!” he gasped. “Firestar, I’m sorry. He got away from me. This is all my fault!”

“Steady.” Firestar let his tail rest a moment on the agitated young warrior’s shoulder, gesturing for calm. “Tell me what happened.”

Brackenfur took a couple of gulping breaths, struggling for self-control. “Darkstripe said he was going out to hunt,” he began. “I went with him, but when we got into the forest he said he had to make dirt. He went behind a bush and I waited for him. He was taking a long time, so I went to look — and he’d gone!” His eyes stretched wide with dismay. “If Sorrelkit dies, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Sorrelkit won’t die,” Firestar reassured him, though certain that it was the truth. The kit was still very ill, and the warrior was pacing irritably outside the medicine cat’s den. “Sorreltail is living proof of that. She’ll survive this and become a warrior and eventually have kits of her own. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

And now there was something else to worry about. Brackenfur’s story showed that Darkstripe had realized he was being watched. He had gotten rid of his guard very neatly. He must have had a reason, Firestar reflected. What had the dark tabby meant to do, and why had he tried to kill Sorrelkit?

“What do you want me to do now?” Brackenfur asked miserably.

“Stop blaming yourself, to begin with,” Firestar replied. “Darkstripe was bound to let us know where his loyalties lie sooner or later.”

Except for his anxiety over Sorrelkit, Firestar wasn’t sorry that Darkstripe had shown his true self in a way that no cat could ignore. Although he had hoped to keep the dark warrior in the Clan, where he could watch him for signs of treachery, now he knew that Darkstripe would never be loyal, to him or to ThunderClan, and there could be no place for a cat who would poison a defenseless kit. Let him go to Tigerstar, where he belongs, Firestar thought.

“Carry on guarding Darkstripe,” he went on to Brackenfur. “You can let him know you’re doing it now. Tell him from me he’s not to leave camp until Sorrelkit can tell her story.”

Brackenfur gave a tense nod and hurried across to the nettle patch, where he crouched beside Darkstripe and spoke to him. The warrior snarled something in reply and went back to tearing apart his piece of fresh-kill.

As Firestar watched, a pawstep sounded behind him and he turned to see Sandstorm; the ginger she-cat pressed her muzzle against his, a purr deep in her throat. Firestar drew in her scent, comforted for a moment just by being close to her.

“Are you coming to eat?” she asked. “The kits and I waited for you. Graystripe told me what happened,” she continued as they padded together over to the nettle patch. “I said I’d relieve him later, to guard Cinderpelt’s den. Leafkit has decided she’s staying there until Sorrelkit recovers, and I don’t think Sorreltail is going to leave unless someone sneaks poppy seeds into her prey.”

“Thanks,” Firestar mewed. Then he frowned. “Why is Leafkit staying in the medicine den?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to witness something so terrible, even if he remembered how Ashfur had told him his daughter was destined to be a medicine cat.

Sandstorm sighed. “She won’t say anything when I try to talk to her. I hope she’s all right.”

“All our kits will be fine,” Firestar promised her. “I’ll stay in the nursery tonight if you still want to relieve Graystripe.”

He shot a glance at the Darkstripe as they walked past him to the pile of fresh-kill. Darkstripe had finished his meal; he rose to his paws and stalked toward the warriors’ den without acknowledging Firestar’s presence. Brackenfur followed with a determined look on his face.

Dustpelt emerged from the den just as Darkstripe reached it; Firestar couldn’t help noticing that the brown tabby veered sharply away as he went to join Ashpaw outside the apprentices’ den. The cats of ThunderClan were making their feelings very clear. Dustpelt had been Darkstripe’s apprentice after Redtail’s murder, and now he didn’t even want to speak to his former mentor.

Firestar picked out a magpie from the fresh-kill pile and took it over to the nettle patch.

“Hey, Firestar,” meowed Mousefur as he approached. “Thornpaw said you were going to have a word with Dustpelt and Owltuft about the eldest apprentices’ warrior ceremonies. It’s about time.”

“It certainly is,” Firestar agreed. Bluestar had made Cloudtail and Tulipleaf warriors before their siblings after the last battle at Sunningrocks because they’d proven themselves there, but Ashpaw and Fernpaw had more than proven themselves during the dog chase. “I figure I’ll bring the five of us take the dawn patrol tomorrow. That should give me a chance to see how they’re shaping up — not that I have any doubts,” he added hastily.

“I should think not!” Mousefur mewed. “Will you tell the apprentices about the patrol or leave that to their mentors?”

“I will,” Firestar replied, taking a quick bite of his magpie. “I want to see their reactions.”

When he and Sandstorm had finished eating, the ginger she-cat went off to Cinderpelt’s den, leaving Squirrelkit and Yellowkit with the other three she-cats, while Firestar padded over toward the tree stump where the apprentices ate. Dustpelt and Ashpaw were already there with Thornclaw, Tulipleaf and Fernpaw, and Cloudtail was just strolling over from the elders’ den, Brightheart close beside him.

“Ashpaw, Fernpaw.” Firestar gave the apprentices a nod as he settled down beside them. “Are your claws sharp? All your warrior skills ready?”

Ashpaw sat up straight, his eyes suddenly gleaming. “Yes, Firestar!”

“Never sharper!” Fernpaw purred.

“Dawn patrol tomorrow, then,” Firestar told him. “If it goes well, we’ll hold your ceremony at sunhigh.”

Ashpaw’s ears quivered with anticipation, but then the light in his eyes slowly died and he looked away.

“What’s the matter?” Firestar asked.

“It’s just...” Ashpaw spoke in a low voice. “I really don’t want to be remembered for the evil my future self did, and is still doing.”

Firestar rested his tail on the apprentice’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure they don’t hold it against you,” he promised. “Like I told Bramblepaw earlier, no cat is evil until they choose to do something that makes them that way. You want nothing to do with the crimes Ashfur has been responsible for, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.”

Dustpelt nodded. “Firestar is right,” he agreed, an awkward expression on his face as if it physically hurt him to admit agreement with his leader. “You’re your own cat, and you’ve been an excellent and dedicated apprentice. I know you’ll make a fine warrior.”

“See?” Fernpaw purred. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t let guilt you don’t deserve overwhelm you,” Firestar told him. “You deserve this.” With a glance at Fernpaw, he added, “You both do.”

*  *  *  *  *

Heavy rain fell during the night. When Firestar led Dustpelt, Owltuft, Ashpaw, Fernpaw, and Hollyleaf out of the camp at dawn, he saw that the light snowfall had vanished. Every fern and clump of grass was loaded with drops of water that shone as daylight seeped into the sky. Shivering, Firestar set a brisk pace.

He could see from the gleam in Ashpaw’s eyes that the young cat was wildly excited, but he kept calm, determined to show his leader that he was fit to be a warrior. Fernpaw was calmer, and there was only a small glint in her otherwise steady gaze. The three cats paused at the top of the ravine, where the breeze was carrying a strong scent of mouse. Fernpaw flashed an inquiring look at Firestar, who nodded.

“We’re not hunting,” he mewed quietly, “but we won’t say no to a bit of prey. Let’s see your action.”

Fernpaw froze for a moment, pinpointing the mouse scuffling among the leaves under a bush.

Stealthily she crept up on it, her body falling smoothly into the hunter’s crouch. Firestar noticed approvingly that he remembered how sensitive the mouse would be to the vibration of his pawsteps; he almost seemed to float over the ground. Then he sprang, and turned back to Firestar and his mentor with triumph in his eyes and the limp body of the mouse in his jaws.

“Well done!” meowed Owltuft.

“That was great,” Firestar agreed. “Bury it now, and we’ll pick it up on the way back.”

When Fernpaw had scraped earth over her catch, Firestar led the patrol toward Snakerocks. He had not been this way since that dreadful morning when he had discovered the trail of dead rabbits laid by Tigerstar to lead the dog pack to the ThunderClan camp. He swallowed bile in his throat as he remembered the reek of blood, but this morning he could detect nothing but the ordinary forest scents. When they reached Snakerocks everything was silent. The howls and barking that he had heard coming from the cave were now no more than a memory.

“They’re gone now,” Hollyleaf murmured. “Those dogs will never be a threat again.”

“Right, Ashpaw,” Firestar meowed, trying not to reveal the clinging horror that he still felt about this place. “What can you smell?”

The apprentice lifted his head and opened his jaws to draw air past his scent glands. Firestar could see that he was concentrating fiercely.

“Fox,” he announced at last. “It’s stale, though. . .two days old, I’d guess. Squirrel. And. . .and just a trace of dog.” He shot a glance at Firestar, who could see that the young cat shared his own misgivings. Ashpaw knew as well as any of them that this was where the dogs had stayed until they’d been led to the camp.

“Anything else?”

“The Thunderpath,” Ashpaw replied. “And there’s something...” He tasted the air again. “Firestar, I don’t understand. I think I can smell cats, but it’s not the scent of any of the Clans. Coming from over there.” He flicked his tail. “What do you think?”

Firestar took a deep breath and realized that Ashpaw was right. The breeze was blowing a faint trace of unfamiliar cat scent toward them.

“Let’s take a look,” Firestar murmured. “And be careful. It might only be a lost kittypet, but you can never tell.”

“That’s no kittypet,” Hollyleaf warned. Her voice was dark and angry.

As the cats padded warily through the undergrowth, the scent grew stronger. Firestar felt more certain now about the scent. “Rogues or loners,” he meowed. “Three of them, I’d guess. And the scent is fresh. We must have just missed them.”

“But what are they doing on our territory?” Fernpaw asked. “Are they Tigerstar’s rogues, do you think?” She was referring to the band of Clanless cats who had helped Tigerstar to attack ThunderClan during his exile, before he had joined ShadowClan.

“No,” replied Owltuft. “Tigerstar’s rogues took on ShadowClan scent long ago. This must be a new lot.”

“As for what they’re doing,” Firestar added, “I’d like to know that, too. Let’s follow them. Fernpaw, you lead.”

Fernpaw was serious now, her excitement at her upcoming warrior ceremony lost in the possible threat from the group of rogues. He did her best to follow the scent but lost it in a marshy stretch of ground, where not even Firestar could pick it up again.

“I’m sorry, Firestar,” mewed Fernpaw, crestfallen.

“It’s not your fault,” Firestar reassured him. “If the scent’s gone, it’s gone.” He raised his head, staring in the direction the trail had led them. It looked as if the strange cats were heading for the Thunderpath, or perhaps for Twolegplace. In either case, they were on their way out of the territory. He shrugged. “I’ll tell the patrols to keep a lookout, but hopefully there’s nothing to worry about. That was well scented, Ashpaw. And well followed, Fernpaw.” Turning to the young cats, he added with a purr of approval, “Let’s head back to camp. We have a warrior ceremony to arrange.”

Hollyleaf flicked her tail urgently. “Actually, Firestar, I need to talk to you first.”

He nodded, motioning for the other warriors to take their apprentices back. “What is it?” he asked, once the others had disappeared through the trees.

“Those cats we scented, they weren’t just some rogues and loners. They were BloodClan.”

“BloodClan!” he gasped, remembering how Scorch had warned him of the dangerous group and the battle they would force the Clans into. “How do you know?”

She gave him an unamused look. “Firestar, I’ve been living right beside BloodClan since it’s creation. In fact, when I tried to stop its existence, I unintentionally inspired it.”

“What? How in StarClan did you inspire it?”

She sighed. “Back when Tigerstar and his sisters were about to become warriors, Mistflow was attacked by four rogues while she was doing her assessment. Honeyfern, Pinestar, and I saved her, but the rogues swore revenge. That’s when they began to recruit cats from Twolegplace to join them, attracting the cruelest, most bloodthirsty rogues and kittypets they could find.”

“And you’ve known about them all this time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because they weren’t a threat until now,” she told him. “If I’d warned you too early, you might have been distracted from fleeing the fire or dealing with the dogs. There was no one right time.”

He groaned, realizing she was right. “So what now?”

“Nothing,” she meowed. “The only way to beat them is to let them come to us. Any Clan that tried to fight in Twolegplace would fail purely because they weren’t used to the different conditions there.”

“I don’t like waiting when I know my enemies are out there.”

“I know, Firestar. But in this case we don’t have any choice,”

Firestar looked squarely at her. “Then I guess we might as well focus our attention on making new warriors.”

*  *  *  *  *

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

Almost at once Firestar saw Fernpaw and Ashpaw approaching from the apprentices’ den with their mentors beside them. Both young cats had groomed themselves for the ceremony; their pale gray fur shone in the gray light of leaf-bare, and they looked as if they would burst with pride.

As he waited for the rest of the Clan to emerge, Firestar spotted Cinderpelt and Jayfeather coming from her den. Graystripe and Sorreltail were with her, and the four cats had their heads together, talking in low voices. Firestar wondered how Sorrelkit was getting on. He had briefly looked into the medicine cat’s den before he left with the dawn patrol. The kit had been sleeping then, and Cinderpelt had still not been prepared to say whether she thought the poison was out of her system. Firestar decided to check on Sorrelkit again as soon as the ceremony was over.

He could not help noticing Darkstripe emerging from the warriors’ den with Brackenfur right behind him. When they sat down in front of the Highrock, a space cleared itself all around them. None of the other cats wanted to be anywhere near Darkstripe. The warrior stared straight ahead with a sneer on his face, but Firestar guessed he would be as anxious as the rest of them to know if Sorrelkit would recover.

Firestar looked at the rest of the Clan for a moment. This was a day that Fernpaw and Ashpaw would remember for the rest of their lives, but it was special for Firestar too, because they were the first warriors he would make as Clan leader.

His voice rang out clearly as he began the ceremony with the words that were familiar to him from his own ceremony and all the others he had seen. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentice. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” Turning to the apprentices, Firestar continued,

“Fernpaw, Ashpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Fernpaw’s reply was firm and confident. “I do.”

Ashpaw was just a heartbeat behind her. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan,” Firestar declared, “I give you your warrior names: Fernpaw, from this moment you will be known as Ferncloud. StarClan honors your kindness and your compassion, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Stepping forward, Firestar rested his muzzle on the top of Ferncloud’s head, feeling the new warrior quiver with excitement. Ferncloud licked his shoulder in return, and met his gaze with a long look of joy. Firestar knew she was excited to join her brothers in the warriors’ den.

As Thornclaw stepped back to join the warriors, Firestar continued. “Ashpaw, from this moment forward, you will be known as Ashwing. StarClan honors your strength of will and the way you have risen above the shadows cast over you.”

Brightheart slipped over to them. “Ferncloud! Ashwing!” she purred, swiping her tongue over his ear. She had made a promise the night before to be the first cat to greet them with their new warrior names, and her voice held warmth and pride in their achievement.

Cloudtail pressed up behind her, greeting the new warriors in his turn. “Welcome to the warriors,” he purred cheerfully. “Tulipleaf and I have already made nests for you, so you can use them straight away once you finish your vigil.”

“Thanks, Cloudtail!” Ferncloud purred.

Meanwhile, Ashwing came over to Firestar. “Thank you so much!” he whispered. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Like I told you before, you’ve earned this,” Firestar assured him. “It was already true, but now it is unequivocally clear that you are nothing like Ashfur, and you never will be.”

“Thank you, Firestar.”

Firestar swallowed, his throat choked with emotion. Ashwing had grown into his own strong and resilient. It was moments like this that made being a leader worthwhile.

“Listen, Firestar,” meowed Cloudtail after a moment, “Brightheart and I are going to train together. We’re going to work on a fighting technique that forces her to use only one eye.”

“Well. . .” Firestar was uncertain. Scorch had suggested it when they’d first met, but Firestar hadn’t understood why he was so keen on it. But it was hard to resist her determination; besides, Firestar wanted her to be able to defend herself and her Clanmates as best she could. “You haven’t got an apprentice yet, Cloudtail,” he agreed, “so you do have the time to spend with Brightheart.” With a snort he added, “Not that it’s ever stopped you before.”

“Does that mean we can train together?” Cloudtail urged.

“Please, Firestar,” meowed Brightheart. “I want to come up with special to help the Clan.”

“All right,” Firestar agreed. With a sudden thought he added, “If you work out some new moves, we can teach them to the others. We never know if a cat may receive injuries that would require them to learn skills like this.”

Cloudtail meowed agreement. The two young cats were moving away when Whitestorm, who had been Brightheart’s mentor, came up to greet her. To Firestar, he added, “I looked in on Sorrelkit just before the ceremony. She was starting to wake up. Cinderpelt thinks she’ll recover. Jayfeather thinks it’s mouse-brained every cat is so worried when Sorreltail is here with us.” With a distant look in his eyes, he added, “I can’t believe how amazing she is. Seeing her as a warrior, with warrior age kits of her own…I never thought I’d make it that long.”

“That’s great news about Sorrelkit,” Firestar purred. Whitestorm, he remembered, was Sorrelkit’s father. “Do you think she’s fit yet to tell us what happened?”

“You’ll have to ask Cinderpelt,” the white warrior replied. “Go now — I’ll see to the patrols.”

Firestar thanked him and hurried toward the medicine cat’s den.

Cinderpelt met him at the mouth of the fern tunnel. “I was coming to look for you,” she meowed, as Sorreltail kneaded her paws against the ground. After hearing Whitestorm’s good news, Firestar was surprised to see the depth of anxiety in her eyes. “Sorrelkit is awake,” she went on. “She’s going to be fine. But you need to hear the story she has to tell.”

Chapter Text

Sorrelkit was curled up with Leafkit in a mossy nest near the entrance to Cinderpelt’s den. She raised her head as Firestar approached with the medicine cat, but her eyes were heavy and it looked as though she was finding it difficult to move.

Sandstorm was crouched close beside her on guard duty. “Poor little scrap,” she murmured to Firestar. “She nearly died. We’ve got to do something about Darkstripe.”

“I can’t wait to do something about Darkstripe!” Sorreltail snarled, her tail lashing furiously.

Sandstorm was looking as anxious as Cinderpelt; she would have heard Sorrelkit’s story too, and seen how angry Sorreltail was getting, Firestar realized. He nodded. “You can leave Darkstripe to me.” Settling down beside Sorrelkit, he mewed gently, “I’m glad to see you’re awake, Sorrelkit. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

The tiny tortoiseshell kit blinked up at him. “Sootkit and Rainkit were asleep in the nursery,” she began in a faint voice. “But I wasn’t sleepy. My mother wasn’t watching, so Squirrelkit suggested I do something sneaky. I went to play in the ravine. I wanted to catch a mouse. And then I saw Darkstripe.” Her voice shook and she hesitated.

“Go on,” Firestar encouraged her, thinking that he’d have to speak to Squirrelkit later and try to stop her from encouraging mischief in her denmates.

“He was coming up the ravine by himself. I knew he should have had Brackenfur with him, and I. . .I wondered where he was going. I followed him — I remembered the time he took Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw out of the camp, and I thought I might have an adventure like that, too.”

Firestar felt a pang of sadness as he remembered how Sorrelkit was always so bright and curious, getting into trouble because of her misguided courage. This limp scrap of fur didn’t look at all adventurous now, nor did the fuming Sorreltail, and Firestar could only hope that with Cinderpelt and Jayfeather’s care both would soon be back to liveliness again.

“I followed him a long way,” Sorrelkit went on, sounding rather proud of herself. “I’d never been so far from the camp. I hid from Darkstripe too — he didn’t kn ow I was there. And then he met some other cats — cats I’d never seen before.”

“What other cats? What did they look like? What scent did they have?” Firestar questioned her urgently.

Sorrelkit looked bewildered. “I didn’t recognize both the scents,” she mewed. Her nose wrinkled. “One of them smelled kind of like Nighthunter…and Dustpelt. She was black-and-white. But the second was yucky. He was a big white cat — bigger than you, Firestar. And he had black paws.”

Firestar stared at her as he realized whom she had seen. “Blackfoot and Stripestalk!” he exclaimed. “Tigerstar’s deputy. That was ShadowClan scent you smelled, Sorrelkit.”

“And what’s Darkstripe doing, meeting the ShadowClan deputy on our territory?” Sandstorm growled. “That’s what I’d like to know. Even if she’s a spy for ThunderClan, he doesn’t know that.”

“So what happened then?” Firestar prompted the kit.

“I got scared,” Sorrelkit admitted, looking down at her paws. “I ran back to camp, but I think Darkstripe must have heard me, because he caught up with me in the ravine. I thought he would be angry because I spied on him, but he told me how clever I was. He gave me some red berries for a special treat. They looked tasty, but when I ate them I started to feel really ill. . . . And I don’t remember anything else, except waking up here.”

She sank her head on her paws again as she finished, as if telling the long story had exhausted her. Leafkit pressed closer to her, beginning to lick her forehead, though she could barely reach it.

Cinderpelt nosed her gently, checking her breathing. “Those were deathberries,” she mewed. “You must never, ever touch them again.”

“I won’t, Cinderpelt, I promise,” murmured the Sorrelkit.

“Thank you, Sorrelkit,” Firestar meowed. He was angry but not surprised to discover that Graystripe had been right all along. Sorreltail’s behavior since then had made it very clear. The real shock was the news that Stripestalk and Blackfoot had been seen on ThunderClan territory, and that Darkstripe had obviously arranged to meet them.

“What are you going to do about Darkstripe?” asked Sandstorm.

“I’ll have to question him,” Firestar replied. “But I don’t expect he’ll tell me anything.”

“He can’t stay in ThunderClan after this,” Sandstorm pointed out, her voice hard as flint. “There’s more than one cat who would rip his throat out for a couple of mouse tails.”

As if to prove her point, Sorreltail let out a furious hiss.

“Leave him to me,” Firestar mewed grimly.

Cinderpelt stayed with Sorrelkit and Leafkit, who was drifting off to sleep again, while Firestar returned to the main clearing with Sandstorm, Sorreltail, and Jayfeather. Both of the time travelers seemed grimly excited for what was about to happen. Many of the cats were still there, sharing tongues after the earlier meeting. Whitestorm was heading for the gorse tunnel with Sweetmint, Goldenflower, and Longtail.

The patrol turned back and all the cats looked up, startled, as Firestar bounded to the top of the Highrock and yowled the summons to another meeting. His gaze sought out Darkstripe, but there was no sign of him.

“Where’s Darkstripe?” he meowed at Graystripe as his friend made his way to the base of the rock.

“In the den,” Graystripe replied.

“Fetch him.”

Graystripe disappeared into the warriors’ den, and emerged a moment later with Darkstripe and Brackenfur by his side. All three cats returned to the base of the Highrock, where Darkstripe sat and looked up at Firestar with a sneer on his face.

“Well?” he asked. “What does our noble leader want now?”

Firestar met his eyes steadily. “Sorrelkit is awake.”

For a few heartbeats Darkstripe held his gaze, and then he looked away. “Have you called a Clan meeting to tell us that?” His tone was scoffing, but his fur had bristled uneasily at the news.

“Shut up, Darkstripe!” Sorreltail hissed.

“Cats of ThunderClan.” Firestar raised his voice. “I’ve called you together so that you can witness what Darkstripe has to say. You all heard what happened to Sorrelkit yesterday. She’s awake now, and Cinderpelt says she’ll be fine. I’ve talked to her and she confirms what Graystripe said. Darkstripe did feed her the death berries. So, Darkstripe” — his gaze went back to the dark warrior below — “what have you to say for yourself?”

“She’s lying,” Darkstripe retorted. An angry hiss cam e from more than one of the cats around him, and he added, blustering, “Or she made a mistake. Kits never listen to what any cat says. She obviously didn’t hear me properly when I told her not to eat them.”

Sorreltail lashed her tail. “Say that again!”

“She’s not lying or mistaken,” Firestar meowed. “And she told me something even more interesting: your reason for feeding her the deathberries. She saw you meeting Blackfoot, the deputy of ShadowClan, on our territory. Would you like to tell us what that was all about?”

More furious snarls came from the Clan, and a cat at the back of the crowd yowled, “Traitor!” Firestar had to signal with his tail for silence, and it was several moments before the angry cats quieted down again.

Darkstripe waited until he could make himself heard. “I don’t have to justify myself to a kittypet,” he growled.

Firestar’s claws scraped against the rock beneath his paws, and he felt reassured by their sharpness. “That’s exactly what you have to do. I want to know what you and Tigerstar are planning.” Panic suddenly flooded over him, and he forced it back. “Darkstripe, you know what Tigerstar tried to do to us. The dog pack would have tom the whole Clan to pieces. How can you even think of following him after that?”

Darkstripe met his eyes resentfully and did not reply. Firestar remembered how he had caught him on the morning the pack attacked, trying to slip away from the camp with Tigerstar’s kits. Darkstripe had known that Tigerstar was planning something; he would have abandoned the rest of the Clan to a ghastly death without even trying to warn them. That was what his loyalty to ThunderClan was worth.

As if finished waiting for Darkstripe to be dealt with, Sorreltail stalked forward, standing muzzle-to-muzzle with the dark tabby. “How could you poison me?” she hissed softly, seasons of pain and rage finally coming out. “Do you understand what you did? I remember everything. I remember the fear I felt with the first pains the deathberries inflicted on me. I remember the days of agony that followed when Cinderpelt managed to save me, how the Clan treated me as if I were fragile for a moon after I recovered. I remember that I lost some of the little time I had left to spend with my father, and I didn’t even know it at the time. I suffered so much and it was all because of you!” Her voice rose with the last few words, and she raked her claws across his ear.

Blood welled out of the injury, and Firestar opened his mouth to call Graystripe to pull the warrior away. But before he could, Sorreltail shook her head angrily and stepped away, moving to sit beside her daughters.

Firestar wanted to be fair, so that no cat, not even Darkstripe himself, could accuse him of persecuting Tigerstar’s former allies. Even more than that, Firestar was still afraid of what Darkstripe might do if he left ThunderClan and was free to go to Tigerstar. But he was left with no choice. Exile was the only possible sentence for a cat guilty of Darkstripe’s crimes.

“You could have been a valuable warrior,” he went on to Darkstripe. “I gave you one chance after another to prove yourself. I wanted to trust you, and — ”

“Trust me?” Darkstripe interrupted. “You’ve never trusted me. Do you think I didn’t know you told that ginger fool to watch me?” He spat the last words toward Brackenfur, still seated beside him. “Did you expect me to live the rest of my days with a shadow?”

“No. I was waiting for you to show your loyalty.” Firestar crouched on the rock and held Darkstripe’s furious gaze without flinching. “This is the Clan where you were born; these are the cats you grew up with. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? The warrior code says you should protect them with your life!”

As Darkstripe rose to his paws Firestar thought he could see fear flickering in his eyes, as if the dark warrior had never intended to make a final break with ThunderClan. He could not be sure, after all, that Tigerstar would welcome him; he had refused to follow the former deputy into exile, and he had failed in his attempt to take Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw to their father before the attack from the dogs, and nearly brought two young cats along who wanted to kill him. Tigerstar was not a cat who forgave easily.

But there was no trace of fear or regret in Darkstripe’s voice as he spoke. “This is not my Clan,” he hissed scornfully, to gasps of shock from the warriors around him. “Not any longer. ThunderClan is led by a kittypet, and there’s nothing left to fight for. I feel no loyalty to ThunderClan. In the whole forest, the only cat worth following is Tigerstar.”

“Then follow him,” Firestar retorted. “You are no longer a warrior of ThunderClan. If you are found in our territory after sunset today, we shall treat you as we would any enemy. Go now.”

“Yes, leave!” Sorreltail snarled.

“Get out of ThunderClan territory!” Cinderheart added.

“You don’t belong here!” Poppyfrost snarled.

Darkstripe’s burning gaze held Firestar’s for a moment longer, but he did not reply. Unhurriedly, he turned his back on Firestar and stalked toward the camp entrance. The cats nearby drew back as he passed them.

“You know what will be waiting for you if you try to come back,” Cloudtail snarled, curling his bp. Willowpelt said nothing, but spat, her fur bristling.

As soon as the tip of Darkstripe’s tail had vanished into the tunnel, a murmur of speculation broke out among the crowd of cats. One voice rose up clearly. “Has Darkstripe gone to ShadowClan?” asked Tawnypaw.

She had not joined in the Clan’s protests when Firestar had tried to force Darkstripe to admit his guilt. Instead she had watched everything in silent fascination, her eyes following the dark warrior every pawstep of the way to the tunnel. She looked shocked and sickened, but there was something else in her expression that Firestar could not read.

He froze as she asked her question. This apprentice knew that her father was the leader of ShadowClan. Did she understand the full extent of Darkstripe’s treachery?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Darkstripe can go where he likes. From now on he is not a member of ThunderClan.”

“Does that mean we can chase him out of the territory if we see him?” Whitestorm called.

“Yes, it does,” Firestar replied. Addressing all the cats, he added, “If you scent him, or any ShadowClan cats, tell me or Whitestorm. And that reminds me — this morning Ferncloud and Ashwing scented rogue cats on our territory. Keep a lookout for them, too, and report anything you find.”

Giving the orders helped him calm down. He could not help feeling the first creeping sensations of relief that at last he had Darkstripe out of his fur. There would be no more kittypet taunts, no more worries about whether all the Clan’s business was being relayed straight to Tigerstar. Even though Firestar was worried about what Darkstripe would do now, there was more gain than loss in the dark warrior’s departure. Yet still Firestar could not help wishing that he could have earned his loyalty.

Firestar leaped down from the Highrock. Now that everything was over exhaustion hit him like a blow from a badger’s paw. What he wanted more than anything was to curl up with his friends in the warriors’ den, to share tongues and sleep. But as leader of the Clan, he couldn’t do that.

Darkstripe’s treachery and the knowledge that ShadowClan cats were on his territory had revived all the memories of his nine-lives ceremony. Why had the hill of bones appeared in his dream, and the river of blood that had flowed from it? What did Bluestar’s prophecy mean? And where exactly did BloodClan fit in to all of this?

Desperate for answers, Firestar decided he would go to Cinderpelt’s den to see if the medicine cat had received any guidance from StarClan.

To his relief, Sandstorm was no longer on guard; he did not want the ginger she-cat to see him like this. Sorrelkit and Leafkit were asleep in her nest, and from the mouth of the split rock came faint sounds of Cinderpelt moving around inside. Firestar went closer and saw her rearranging the piles of healing herbs and berries that she kept there.

“Nearly out of juniper...” she muttered, then saw Firestar. “What’s the matter? What’s happened now?”

She limped out of the den and came up to him, nosing him anxiously as she smelled his fear-scent. “Firestar, what’s wrong?”

Firestar shook his head to clear it of apprehension. It was a relief to go right back to the beginning, and tell Cinderpelt about the dream that had come to him as he lay beside the Moonstone.

Cinderpelt sat beside him and listened in silence, her steady gaze never leaving his face.

“Bluestar told me, ‘Four will become two. Lion and tiger will meet in battle, and blood will rule the forest,”’ Firestar finished. “And then blood oozed out of the hill of bones and started to fill the hollow. Blood everywhere. . .Cinderpelt, what does it all mean?”

“I don’t know,” Cinderpelt confessed. “StarClan have not shown me any of this. Just as they have the power to show me what will happen, so they can choose not to share with me. I’m sorry, Firestar — but I’ll keep thinking about it, and maybe something will happen to make it clearer soon.”

She pushed her nose against Firestar’ s fur to comfort him, but though Firestar was grateful for her sympathy, he could not forget the horror of his dream. What dreadful fate lay in store for him? And if even Cinderpelt could not answer that question, what hope was there for ThunderClan?

Chapter Text

Surge

Surgestorm

Surgeleap

Surgewing

Surgebloom

Surgestep

Surgeflare

Surgeflight

Robinpaw

Robinfeather

Robinberry

Robinlight

Robincry

Redpaw

Redbark

Redbud

Redleaf

Redfern

Chapter Text

Firestar emerged from the forest near Sunningrocks and paused to taste the air. The sun was rising behind him, sending long shadows from the forest toward the river. Several days had passed since Darkstripe had left ThunderClan, and so far the patrols had not brought any news of him, nor of ShadowClan cats in the territory. But the memory of Firestar’s dream was still too sharp for him to believe that the threat from the territory beyond the Thunderpath was over.

Graystripe and Thornclaw padded out of the trees behind him. “Smell anything?” Graystripe asked.

Firestar shrugged. “Only RiverClan cats. No more than I’d expect, this close to the border. But I want to make sure that they haven’t been near Sunningrocks.”

“We’ll renew the scent markings,” meowed Graystripe. “Come on, Thornclaw.”

While his friends disappeared into the gullies among the rocks, Firestar remained where he was, carefully drawing the air over his scent glands. Though he was worried about ShadowClan, he had not forgotten RiverClan or their ambitious leader, Leopardstar. She had tried to retake Sunningrocks not long before, and Firestar would not be surprised if she decided to try again.

Not many moments passed before he detected fresh RiverClan scent. Instantly suspicious, he padded around the base of the rocks, only to relax a few moments later as he caught sight of Mistyfoot and Stripestalk. They were alone, crouched at the very edge of the river, and as Firestar watched Mistyfoot scooped a fish out of the water and killed it with one blow of her paw.

“Well done!” Firestar called.

Mistyfoot turned, saw him, and padded up the gently sloping bank as far as the border, Stripestalk just behind her. Firestar went to meet them there, glad to see that Mistyfoot still looked friendly in spite of the way she had left the ThunderClan camp. But he noticed with alarm that Mistyfoot was much thinner than when he had last seen her, and he wondered if something bad had happened following the revelation that Bluestar had been her mother. He was pleased to see Stripestalk as well, though confused why she was here in RiverClan territory.

“How are you, Mistyfoot, Stripestalk?” he meowed. “I hope there hasn’t been any trouble.”

“About me, Mosslight, and Stonefur?” Mistyfoot replied, guessing his thoughts. She hesitated. “Stonefur told the Clan the truth about Bluestar,” she meowed at last. “Some of them didn’t like it. One or two of them won’t talk to us at all now, and most of them are a bit uneasy with us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Firestar mewed. “What about Leopardstar? Has she said anything?”

“I could tell she wasn’t pleased. She supported us in front of the Clan, but I think she has an eye on us all the same, to make sure we’re still loyal.”

“Of course you’re loyal!” Firestar exclaimed.

“Yes, and the rest of the Clan will realize it sooner or later. Besides. . .” Mistyfoot paused again, and then went on. “That isn’t the worst of our problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tigerstar.” Mistyfoot shivered. “He visits Leopardstar regularly, and I can’t work out why. I’m sure they’re planning something.”

A jolt of fear shot through Firestar. “Planning what?”

Mistyfoot twitched her ears. “I’ve no idea. Leopardstar hasn’t told Mosslight, even though she’s her deputy. But there are a couple of ShadowClan warriors stationed permanently in our camp.”

“Like me,” Stripestalk meowed, speaking for the first time. “Tigerstar thinks I’m the best option to keep our warriors in line while they’re in RiverClan.”

“What? That shouldn’t happen! It must be against the warrior code!”

Mistyfoot shrugged, looking defeated. “Try telling that to Leopardstar.”

“But what are they doing there?”

“Leopardstar says that they’re staying with us so the Clans can exchange training methods and fighting techniques, but I don’t see much sign of it. All they do is watch. ... It’s like they’re learning all about us, all our secrets and weaknesses. But Leopardstar thinks it’s best to keep an eye on them.” Mistyfoot’s fur bristled as if she saw her enemies in front of her. “That’s why I came over here, to get away from them for a bit.”

Stripestalk growled. “I can tell you exactly what Tigerstar is planning, and so could the time travelers. He wants to combine all the Clans into one, which is a terrible idea and would never work. Leopardstar seems to believe that playing along is the best plan.”

“That’s terrible,” Firestar meowed. “What is Leopardstar thinking?”

“You want my opinion? She wants to do the best for her Clan and she thinks Tigerstar is the strongest leader in the forest, so she’s set out to act as his ally.”

“I’m not sure Tigerstar has allies,” Firestar warned her. “Only followers.”

Mistyfoot nodded. “I know.” She sat down, licked one paw, and drew it two or three times over her ear.

Firestar wondered if she was regretting saying so much to a warrior of another Clan. “How is the prey running?” he asked, hoping to distract her. “At least the river hasn’t frozen yet.”

“Not yet. Prey’s scarce, but that’s nothing new.” Mistyfoot flicked her ears dismissively. “It’s leaf-bare, after all. And those two warriors of Tigerclaw’s don’t help,” she added. “They sit there in camp stuffing their faces, but they never bring back much fresh-kill. At least Stripestalk and Rowanpaw bring back prey.”

Stripestalk smiles. “He seems to enjoy the challenge of hunting in another Clan’s territory.”

“Tell him not to get used to it,” Mistyfoot warned. “As soon as all this is over, ShadowClan won’t be allowed anywhere near our territory.”

She broke off at the sound of Graystripe’s voice yowling her name. Firestar turned to see his friend bounding down the bank toward them with Thornclaw just behind him.

“Hi, Mistyfoot, hi Stripestalk,” panted Graystripe, as if it were perfectly normal for another Clan’s deputy to be in another Clan’s territory. “How are Featherpaw and Stormpaw?”

“They’re fine, Graystripe,” replied Mistyfoot, with a purr of welcome for her former Clanmate. Though Graystripe’s stay in RiverClan had been short, the two cats had become good friends, and Mistyfoot was always willing to give Graystripe news of his kits. “Featherpaw is turning into a great fighter. ThunderClan will have to watch out when she’s made a warrior.”

Graystripe let out a purr. “Well, she couldn’t have a better mentor.”

Firestar backed away while Graystripe and Mistyfoot discussed the two apprentices. Thornclaw padded up to him and meowed, “We’ve renewed the scent markings, Firestar. There’s no fresh RiverClan scent around the rocks.”

“That’s good,” Firestar responded, though his thoughts were only half on what the young warrior was telling him. Mistyfoot and Stripestalk’s news deeply disturbed him. It sounded as if RiverClan and ShadowClan were allied more closely than ever before. And if Tigerstar decided to go to war, ThunderClan would be trapped between them.

Oh, StarClan, Firestar murmured to himself. Show me what I should do now.

*  *  *  *  *

After his talk with Mistyfoot, Firestar ordered extra patrols, but no cat reported anything unusual. The days slipped past peacefully until the time of the next Gathering approached.

As the sun went down behind the thorn hedge, Firestar sat with Whitestorm beside the nettle patch, sharing fresh-kill before the journey.

“Who will you take to the Gathering?” the white warrior asked.

Firestar swallowed a mouthful of squirrel. “Not you, I think,” he replied. “I’m certain Tigerstar is going to make a move of some sort, and I want you to guard the camp. I’ll leave you some strong warriors, too.”

“I think you’re right.” Whitestorm swiped his tongue around his mouth as he finished his vole.

“Tigerstar may have failed with the dog pack but he’s bound to try something else.”

“I’ll take Ferncloud and Ashwing,” Firestar decided. “They’ll be looking forward to their first Gathering as a warriors. And Sandstorm, Graystripe, and Frostfur. Plus Hollyleaf. I imagine she’ll want to catch up with the other time travelers. That should leave you with enough fighting strength if Tigerstar sends warriors to attack.”

“You think he’ll break the truce?” inquired Whitestorm.

Firestar flicked his ears. “What do you think? He led the dog pack to us — do you think he’d bother about a little thing like ignoring the will of StarClan?”

“StarClan?” Whitestorm snorted. “Tigerstar behaves as if he’s never heard of StarClan.” He paused, and then asked, “What about the two young apprentices — Tigerstar’s kits? Do you want to take them with you?”

Firestar shook his head. “Not in a hundred moons. You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? Tigerstar wants those kits. At the last Gathering, he gave Bluestar one moon to decide whether to hand them over. That time’s up now. If Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw are there, I wouldn’t put it past Tigerstar to try taking them from the Gathering.”

“Nor would I.” Whitestorm rumbled in agreement. “You think we should keep them, then?”

Firestar was startled. “Don’t you?” He had assumed that ThunderClan would insist on their right to keep the two apprentices, but if his deputy thought that they should give the young cats to their father, Firestar would consider his opinion carefully.

But Whitestorm was nodding. “There’s no question that they’re ThunderClan kits. Their mother is ThunderClan, and so was their father at the time they were born. Tigerstar going to ShadowClan doesn’t alter that. But if we want to keep them, we’ll have to fight for them.”

“Then we fight,” Firestar meowed determinedly. “Besides,” he added, “if we meekly hand them over, Tigerstar will see that as a sign of weakness. He’d be making more demands before you could say ‘mouse.’”

“True.”

Firestar took another bite of squirrel, his eyes narrowing as his thoughts moved to the approaching Gathering. “You know, Whitestorm,” he began, “Tigerstar won’t have it all his own way. I’ve got news for the Gathering, too. How do you think the other Clans will react when I tell them how Tigerstar tried to use the dog pack to destroy us? Not even Broken tail was as ruthless as that. Even Tigerstar’s own Clan will turn against him. They might even drive him from the forest, and then we’ll be rid of him.”

Whitestorm’s ears twitched; to Firestar’s surprise the white warrior didn’t look as optimistic as he had expected. “Maybe,” he meowed, “but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work out like that.”

Firestar stared at him. “You think the warrior code allows a cat to have another Clan tom apart by dogs?”

“No, of course not. But Tigerstar could always deny it. What proof do we have?”

Firestar thought seriously about what his deputy was saying. One cat — Longtail — had seen Tigerstar feed a rabbit to the pack. Several of the Clan had detected Tigerstar’s scent on the trail of rabbits. And Tigerstar had attacked Firestar himself close to the gorge, to make sure that the dog pack caught him and pulled him down. Only Bluestar’s sudden appearance had saved him.

True, Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur had witnessed Tigerstar’ s presence by the river that day, but they were already having problems within their own Clan. If they spoke up against Tigerstar their Clanmates might not believe them. It would be wrong, Firestar realized, to add to their troubles. And if Leopardstar was trying to fool Tigerstar like Stripestalk had been doing, she might ignore his story to protect her own Clan,

And all the rest of his evidence rested on the word of ThunderClan cats alone. Both WindClan and RiverClan knew there had been a serious rift between Tigerstar and his birth Clan that had driven the former deputy to leave. Tigerstar could try to make it seem as if the ThunderClan cats were lying.

“Then we’ll see who they believe,” Firestar insisted angrily. “Not every cat thi nk s that Tigerstar is StarClan’s gift to the forest. He won’t have it all his own way.”

“Let’s hope not.” Whitestorm got to his paws and stretched. “You’re going to have a lively time tonight, Firestar. I’ll go and tell the warriors you’ve chosen to be ready.”

As he padded away, Firestar crouched down beside the nettles and finished his squirrel. There was going to be trouble at this Gathering. Tigerstar was certain to claim his kits again, and Firestar suspected that he would take this opportunity to reveal Bluestar’s secret as well and denounce Mosslight, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur as half-Clan cats.

But I’ve got plenty to say, too, he thought, pushing aside the doubts Whitestorm had raised. When I’ve finished, no cat in the forest — not even his own Clan — will trust Tigerstar again.

Chapter Text

Firestar paused at the top of the hollow before leading his cats down to the Gathering. The night was still. Clouds were building up on the horizon, so that Firestar had begun to wonder if StarClan was going to hide the moon to show that it was not their will for the Gathering to take place.

But for now the moon rose high above the clouds, and the scent of cats drifted up to Firestar from the hollow below.

“Only WindClan so far,” murmured Graystripe, who was crouched at Firestar’s shoulder. “What’s keeping the others?”

Firestar shrugged. “StarClan knows. Personally, I wouldn’t care if Tigerstar never showed up.”

He signaled with his tail and led his warriors as they raced down through the bushes and into the clearing at the center of the hollow. As Graystripe had said, only WindClan cats were there. Firestar spotted their leader, Tallstar, seated with his deputy, Deadfoot, near the base of the Great Rock.

“Greetings, Firestar,” Tallstar mewed, dipping his head courteously as Firestar approached. “Tornear told me he met you on your way to Highstones. We grieve for Bluestar.”

“So do her own Clan,” Firestar responded, bowing his head in turn. “She was a noble leader.”

“But you will be a worthy successor,” meowed the black-and-white tom, surprising Firestar by the warmth of his tone. “You’ve served your Clan well.”

“I-I hope to serve it even better in future,” Firestar stammered.

Tallstar nodded once more in response, and sprang up to the top of the rock. Before following him, Firestar glanced around at his own cats. They were already circling among the WindClan warriors and beginning to exchange their news. Firestar was pleased to see that the two Clans seemed friendly toward each other, in spite of the near misunderstanding over Bluestar’s warning about the dog back. Worried as he was about ShadowClan and RiverClan, it was good to think that he might find allies in WindClan.

Hollyleaf went to join Heathertail and Furzepelt. The older of the WindClan time travelers smiled brightly when she saw his granddaughter, and Firestar realized that somehow all of his grandkits had known her well in their time.

Waving with his tail toward Onewhisker and his apprentice, Gorsepaw, who were settling down to talk with Sandstorm, Firestar jumped up to stand beside Tallstar on the top of the Great Rock.

He had stood here once before, when he took Bluestar’s place while she was ill after the fire, but he was still not used to looking down on his cats from such a great height, nor seeing their eyes gleam pale from reflected moonlight as they stared up at him. Firestar’s tension increased as he thought about what was to come, and the confrontation with Tigerstar that would surely happen before moonset.

“ShadowClan and RiverClan are late,” he remarked.

Tallstar twitched his ears in agreement. “Clouds threaten the moon,” he pointed out. A trace of anxiety crossed his face. “Perhaps StarClan is angry.”

Looking up, Firestar saw that the clouds he had noticed earlier were spreading farther across the sky.

The air tasted damp, and his fur prickled with expectation. What would it mean, Firestar wondered, if StarClan veiled the moon and Tigerstar was left to plot in secret until the next Gathering?

“Tallstar,” he began, deciding that the time had come to confide in the WindClan leader and ask for his advice. “I’m worried about what Tigerstar might be planning — ”

He never finished. A triumphant yowling from the top of the hollow interrupted him, and a heartbeat later more cats raced into the clearing as ShadowClan and RiverClan arrived together, their cats fanning out below him. Tigerstar reached the top of the Great Rock in a single bound, and Leopardstar scrambled up beside him.

“Cats of all Clans!” Tigerstar declared, not waiting to greet Tallstar and Firestar or discuss which of the leaders should speak first. “I have news for you. Listen well, for great change is coming to the forest.”

Firestar stared at the ShadowClan leader in confusion. When Tigerstar first mentioned news, he had thought for a moment he was referring to Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur’s half-Clan heritage. Yet that would not merit such a spectacular arrival or make Tigerstar talk about great change. Meanwhile, Leopardstar was rolling her eyes at the dramatic nature of Tigerstar’s announcement.

Below them in the clearing there was dead silence. All the cats stared up at the Great Rock, their eyes wide as they waited for Tigerstar to explain. Every hair on Firestar’s pelt began to bristle, and he did not know whether it was due to the tension of the assembled warriors or the threatening rain clouds.

“Great change,” Tigerstar repeated. “And StarClan has shown me that it is ShadowClan’s task to prepare every cat in the forest to meet it.”

“Every cat?” Firestar heard the quiet mutter from Tallstar. The WindClan leader took a step forward. “Tigerstar — ”

“ShadowClan has the favor of StarClan,” Tigerstar swept on, ignoring the interruption. “We are blessed because we survived the sickness, and I have received the blessing of our warrior ancestors most of all because it was my task to restore the Clan and make it great again.”

Oh, yes? Firestar thought. He refused to believe that StarClan were showing favor to Tigerstar after all that he had done to his birth Clan. Glancing down into the clearing, he looked for Runningnose. The ShadowClan medicine cat had done his best to support his Clan during Nightstar’s ill-fated leadership, and Firestar had an idea that he was not entirely happy with Tigerstar as the old tom’s replacement. He wondered what Runningnose thought of the announcement Tigerstar had just made, but though his gaze searched the clearing carefully he could see no sign of the medicine cat or time travelers.

Left at home, Firestar asked himself, so they can’t deny what Tigerstar claims?

At the same time, he couldn’t help noticing that Mosslight was also missing, and he wondered if the RiverClan deputy was in more trouble because of her half-Clan parentage, and what she thought about her leader’s decision to ally her Clan with Tigerstar.

One cat Firestar did spot in the clearing below was Darkstripe. The former ThunderClan warrior was sitting beside Blackfoot, and Stripestalk and his eyes shone with admiration as he looked up at Tigerstar. It was clear that he had gone straight to his old ally after being driven out of ThunderClan.

“All of you know,” Tigerstar went on, “that changes have already come to us — unwelcome changes beyond our control. Last leaf-bare much of the forest was covered by floods. A fire swept through ThunderClan territory.” As he mentioned the fire he flashed a look at Firestar, who would have liked to claw the arrogance off his enemy’s battle-scarred face. “Twolegs are moving into our territory in ever greater numbers. Life is growing harder, and as the forest changes around us, we must change to meet the crisis.”

Yowls of support rose from below, though Firestar noticed that they came only from ShadowClan and some of the RiverClan cats. The warriors of ThunderClan and WindClan were exchanging stunned glances, as if they couldn’t work out what Tigerstar was trying to say. Firestar felt just as shocked. He had been so certain that Tigerstar would reveal Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur’s secret at this Gathering, and demand his own kits, Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, from ThunderClan. Firestar had braced himself, but now he was left to face a completely different challenge.

“StarClan have shown me the way,” Tigerstar meowed with a glance at the sky, where the storm clouds were massing more thickly still. “To survive the hardship ahead of us, we must join together. As four Clans, we waste our energies in striving against each other. As one, we would be strong. We must unite!”

Total silence met his words. Firestar could hear a faint breeze stirring the leafless branches of the four oak trees, and in the distance a mutter of thunder. He gaped at Tigerstar. A single Clan in the forest? When StarClan had always decreed that there should be four?

“Leopardstar has already agreed to join RiverClan with ShadowClan,” Tigerstar told them. “We shall be joint leaders of a greater Clan, to be known as TigerClan.”

Joint leaders? Firestar didn’t believe that for a moment. Tigerstar would never share his leadership with any cat.

Now Tigerstar turned to Firestar and Tallstar. “We have come to invite you to join the new Clan,” he meowed, his amber eyes glittering. “Let us rule the forest together in friendship and peace.”

Before he had finished speaking, Tallstar stepped forward, his fur bristling aggressively. But it was not to Tigerstar that he spoke; instead he addressed all the cats in the clearing below.

“TigerClan was the name of one of the great Clans of ancient times.” Tallstar’s voice rang out as strong and clear as if he were still a young cat. “Tigerstar has no right to use it now. Nor does he have the right to change the number of Clans in the forest. We have lived as four Clans for innumerable seasons, following the warrior code laid down for us by StarClan. To throw aside our ancient ways would bring disaster.” Turning to Tigerstar, he hissed, “I’ll die before I join my Clan to yours!”

Tigerstar blinked slowly. Firestar could see a dangerous gleam in his eyes, but his voice was calm as he replied, “Tallstar, I understand. These are important matters, and an older cat like yourself will need time to see that what I’m suggesting is for the good of all our Clans.”

“I’m not so old that I’ve lost my wits, you piece of fox dung!” Tallstar snarled.

Tigerstar flattened his ears, but he kept his temper. “And what does the new leader of ThunderClan think?” he sneered. All the hatred he had ever felt toward the flame-colored warrior was contained in those words, and even the air felt scorched.

Firestar’s veins throbbed as though they were filled with ice as he imagined the future. His territory and Tallstar’s lay between Tigerstar’s and Leopardstar’s. With ShadowClan and RiverClan in alliance, the two remaining Clans could be crushed between them.

Glancing down, Firestar saw unease spread among the ThunderClan and WindClan warriors. Sandstorm was on her paws, yowling, “Never, Firestar, never!” but some of the WindClan cats were talking urgently to each other, as if they were considering Tigerstar’s proposition. The dark tabby warrior had been clever, Firestar realized. Much of what he had said was true — times were growing harder, for all the reasons he had given. Maybe some cats would believe their problems could be solved by joining together as one Clan. But Firestar was convinced that the cats of the forest could fulfill their destiny only if there were four Clans. And even if he had considered for one moment the idea of joining together as one, he would have rejected it if Tigerstar was to be the new Clan’s leader.

“Well, Firestar,” Tigerstar rumbled, with another swift glance at the storm-dark sky. “Have you lost your tongue?”

Firestar took a couple of paces that brought him to Tallstar’s side. “I’ll never let you take over my Clan,” he spat at Tigerstar.

“Make us,” Tallstar invited. “If you can.”

“Make you?” Tigerstar’s amber eyes widened; for a heartbeat he looked almost genuinely hurt. “I came here in peace with a plan to help us all. Tallstar, Firestar, I want you to recognize that this is the right decision and come to me willingly. But don’t delay too long,” he added, a hint of menace in his voice. “StarClan will not wait forever.”

Fury blazed up in Firestar. How dared Tigerstar claim that his attempt to take over the whole forest was the will of StarClan?

Spinning around, he turned his back on the ShadowClan leader and paced to the front of the rock, where he could look down on all the assembled cats. The time had come for him to speak. When he had finished, Tigerstar would be revealed for what he was — a murderer who would wade through the blood of countless cats to get what he wanted. Let Leopardstar see the kind of cat she had trusted!

But before he could say anything, another cat, a brown tom with a black paw and green eyes pushed his way through to the front of the crowd. He met Firestar’s eyes with a smirk then spun around and began to speak.

“I know many of you have your doubts about what Tigerstar is proposing,” he began. “But I am here, as a warrior from the future, to promise you that his action is wise. In my time, the Clans all united. Together, cats hunt anywhere they wish in the forest. No one goes hungry, their bellies full with the plentiful prey that can be found even in leaf-bare. We are happy and healthy, and our kits don’t die young and tragically. Tigerstar is doing the right thing.”

“Thank you, Scratchflight,” Tigerstar purred. “No, if that eases your–”

Hollyleaf stepped forward, fury in her green eyes. “Liar!” she snarled, cutting him off. “You dare try to say these things about the future?”

“I’m sorry?” Scratchflight meowed, feigning confusion.

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand, Scratch! I know exactly who you are. After all, I was there when you were kitted in the Twolegplace!”

Gasps rang out in the clearing, and Firestar heard Tigerstar inhale sharply. “Are you sure you want to do this?” the dark tabby growled.

Hollyleaf ignored him. “I know you’ve always wanted power and influence, but joining a murderer is not going to help you get it. Stop what you’re doing before it’s too late!”

“Excuse me,” Tigerstar meowed. “But this interruption to the Gathering is rude and inconsiderate.”

“Is is?” Heathertail demanded. “Because I’m from the future too, and I’ve never seen this cat before. But I’ve seen a cat like him, one who’s willing to lie and play on cats’ emotions just to cause pain.”

“You can’t trust Scratch!” Hollyleaf warned. “He is no time traveler!”

“How do you know?” Jaggedtooth hissed challengingly, and from the snarl Hollyleaf released at the question, Firestar could tell she knew him.

To her credit, she ignored him too. “I know you can’t trust Scratch, and that he’s not a time traveler because I am. I am both a ThunderClan warrior from the future and the cat that so many of you have sought out in Twolegplace. My name before and now is Hollyleaf, but most of you have heard of the cats I have saved as Healer!”

“She is correct,” Tallstar agreed. “I have met her before, when one of our elders was sick and Barkface was unable to heal him.”

“RiverClan has been greatly helped by her as well,” Graypool put in. “She has saved many of our kits who would have died by illness. She is the one we should trust.”

Firestar suppressed his purr at the thought that his granddaughter was both so well-known for aiding so many, and the fact that Tigerstar shot an incredulous look at Leopardstar that the elder would speak up like this. Clearly he was wishing he’d killed Graypool along with Silverstream when he’d had the chance. Too late, fox dung!

“Tell her to stay silent!” Tigerstar hissed at the RiverClan leader.

She shrugged. “You hold me in higher esteem than you should if you think I can control my elders any more than you can.”

Tigerstar fell silent, angry emanating from his pelt. Firestar saw his chance.

“Cats of WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan!” Firestar yowled. “I can stay silent no longer. You cannot trust Tigerstar any more than you would trust a cornered badger.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a swift movement from Tigerstar, a bunching of muscles under the rippling tabby pelt, but then the ShadowClan leader glanced at the sky again, controlled himself, and went on listening with a look of deliberate indifference.

“I know many of you must have wondered why Tigerstar left ThunderClan,” Firestar went on. “You want to know the truth? This cat is power-hungry and dangerous, and he is willing to murder other cats to get what he wants.”

He broke off as lightning stabbed down from the sky, a blazing claw of white fire that raked the forest. Thunder crashed overhead, drowning Firestar’ s words; it sounded as if the Great Rock itself were being torn up.

“A sign! A sign!” Tigerstar yowled. He gazed up at the sky, his yellow eyes glowing in the light of the moon that still shone between the gathering clouds. “I thank you, StarClan, for showing us your will. This Gathering is over.”

Calling a command to his cats to follow him, he bunched his muscles to leap down from the Great Rock. Before he sprang he turned his head, eyes narrowed with hatred. “Bad luck, kittypet,” he spat. “Think about my offer. It’s your last chance to save those miserable cats.”

Before Firestar had the chance to respond, the ShadowClan leader launched himself from the Great Rock and disappear e d into the bushes that lined the hollow. ShadowClan cats poured after him. Leopardstar jumped down in her turn and gathered the warriors of RiverClan.

Firestar and Tallstar faced each other, shocked and bewildered, as lightning stabbed down again. A gust of wind buffeted the rock, almost carrying Firestar off his paws, and rain poured from the sky as the storm broke.

Almost blinded by the lashing rain, Firestar half jumped, half slithered down the side of the rock and streaked across the open ground to the shelter of the bushes, calling to his warriors as he went. Moments later he found himself crouching beneath a hawthorn bush with Graystripe and Sandstorm huddled close to him. Shaking rain from his pelt, he looked around for Tallstar, but the WindClan leader had not followed him.

The rain was striking the ground so hard that the drops scattered into a mist of spray. The four oaks thrashed and groaned in the wind. Grasses and ferns were flattened in the fury of the storm. But the chaos in the clearing was no worse than the chaos in Firestar’s mind.

“I can’t believe this!” he meowed, raising his voice above the howling wind. “I didn’t think even Tigerstar would dare to claim power over all the forest.”

“But what can we do about it?” asked Graystripe. “You didn’t get to tell the truth about Tigerstar.”

“It’s not Firestar’s fault that the storm broke,” Sandstorm pointed out, her hackles rising.

“Too late to worry about it,” Firestar told them. “That prey’s killed and eaten now. We have to decide what we do next.”

“What is there to decide?” snarled Sandstorm. The light of battle shone in her green eyes. “We fight, of course — until we’ve driven that piece of crowfood out of the forest for good.”

Firestar nodded. Though he said nothing, he couldn’t help thinking of Bluestar’s prophecy during his dream at the Moonstone.

Four will become two. Lion and Tiger will meet in battle.

"Tiger” must mean the new TigerClan, but who or what is "Lion”? Firestar pushed the question aside as he remembered Bluestar’s ominous parting words.

Blood will rule the forest.

Chapter Text

The squall was soon over. Firestar led his cats home through a forest where every twig and fern dripped water under a clearing sky. Silverpelt glittered brightly, and Firestar raised his eyes to utter a silent prayer: Great StarClan, show me what to do.

He began to worry about whether Tigerstar had sent warriors to attack the camp while Firestar and the others were away. It would be one way to weaken ThunderClan so that Firestar had no choice but to ally his surviving cats with TigerClan. Relief flooded over him as he emerged from the gorse tunnel to see that everything was peaceful.

Whitestorm got up from sentry duty outside the warriors’ den and padded over. “You’re back early. I wondered if those stormclouds would cover the moon.”

“Yes, but it was worse than that,” Firestar replied.

“Worse?” Whitestorm’s eyes widened in astonishment as Firestar told him what had happened at the Gathering just before thunder and lightning prevented his revealing words. More cats joined them, and Firestar was aware of shocked mews as his Clan learned what Tigerstar was planning.

“When the storm broke,” Firestar finished, “Tigerstar said it was a sign from StarClan that he had their favor. He and Leopardstar left, so the Gathering broke up.”

“It might well have been a sign,” mewed Whitestorm thoughtfully. “But one that shows StarClan are angry with Tigerstar.”

“Cinderpelt, what do you think?” Firestar asked the medicine cat, who had listened to the story with deep foreboding in her blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “If it was a sign, it would mean StarClan stopped you from telling the truth about Tigerstar, and I find that hard to believe.” She shrugged. “There are times when a storm is just a storm.”

“It was an unlucky one for ThunderClan, then,” muttered Longtail.

Jayfeather rolled his eyes. “StarClan better not have sent the storm. I’ll have words with them if they did.”

Hollyleaf sighed. “The storm’s been brewing since before the Gathering. I don’t think StarClan had anything to do with it.”

“I wish I’d been there,” Cloudtail growled. “I’d have torn Tigerstar’s throat out. No more problem.”

“In that case, it’s a good thing you weren’t there,” Firestar retorted. “Attacking a Clan leader at a Gathering? That would have made StarClan angry.”

Cloudtail narrowed his eyes at Firestar, the challenge clear in his blue gaze. “Why don’t StarClan do something to help us, then, if they’re so powerful?”

“Maybe they will,” Ferncloud suggested gently.

“So what are we going to do?” asked Mousefur. She was shifting from paw to paw as if she wanted to race out of camp and confront her enemies right away. “You’re not thinking of joining this. . .TigerClan, are you?”

“Never,” Firestar assured her. “But we need time to think, and rest.” He yawned and stretched. “For now, we’ll need extra patrols. Any volunteers to go out at dawn?”

“I will,” Mousefur offered instantly.

“Thanks,” meowed Firestar. “Keep a lookout along the border with ShadowClan. And if you come across any of Tigerstar’s warriors, you know what to do.”

“Oh, yes.” Cloudtail lashed his tail eagerly. “I’ll come with you, Mousefur. I could do with some ShadowClan fur to line my nest.”

Firestar didn’t try to check the young warrior’s hostility. No cat could doubt Cloudtail’s loyalty to ThunderClan, however scornful he was about StarClan and the warrior code.

Whitestorm named Brackenfur, Thornclaw, and Snowpaw to join the patrol as well, and all four cats padded off to get some rest before dawn. One by one, the other Clan cats headed for their dens. Firestar was aware of their shock, and the fear they did not quite succeed in hiding.

Eventually he was left alone with only Cinderpelt and Sandstorm by his side. He let out a long sigh. “Will there ever be any end to this?” he murmured.

Cinderpelt pressed her muzzle comfortingly against his. “I don’t know. It’s in the paws of StarClan.” She narrowed her eyes. “But sometimes I don’t believe there’ll be any peace in the forest until Tigerstar is dead.”

She padded off, leaving Firestar and Sandstorm. Sandstorm nudged Firestar’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go check on the kits. It’ll cheer you up.”

He followed her to the nursery. Ducking inside, he realized immediately that it had been a mistake to not tire Squirrelkit out before the Gathering, because she was enthusiastically chasing Bramblepaw’s tail.

“Remind me why we left the newest apprentice in charge of our kits,” he meowed in amusement.

Bramblepaw was too focused on keeping his tail away from the little ginger she-cat to hear him, but Brightheart did. “Actually, you left me in charge of your kits,” she reminded him. “You decided to have Bramblepaw help me because you were worried that Squirrelkit would be too much for one cat to handle.” Leafkit and Yellowkit were sleeping soundly against her side.

“Eh, Squirrelkit’s just ready to be a warrior already,” Sorreltail purred. Willowpelt had left her to watch her brothers while she stayed with Sorrelkit in the medicine den. “Just wait till she becomes an apprentice. You’ll really have your paws full then.”

“You mean she’ll be worse–Owww!” Bramblepaw gasped as Squirrelkit grabbed his tail with her tiny claws and bit into it with as much force as she possibly could.

Firestar quickly ran to help, gently easing Bramblepaw’s tail free. “Be gentle,” he scolded his daughter. “Bramblepaw’s your friend, remember?”

“He said I could play with his tail!” she squeaked.

“I said you could play with it, not try to tear it off,” he protested.

Undeterred, Squirrelkit wriggled away from Firestar and climbed onto Bramblepaw’s back. “Badger ride!” she cheered.

Bramblepaw pretended to groan and began to stomp around the den. After a few moments, Sandstorm went over to him and gently pulled Squirrelkit away by the scruff.

Firestar smiled fondly at his apprentice. “You’re relieved of chaos duty,” he said warmly. “Go get some rest. We’re doing battle training tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Firestar!” Bramblepaw purred. He quickly left, heading for the apprentices’ den.

Sandstorm was relieving Brightheart as well. “Thanks for keeping an eye on them.”

Brightheart smiled. “It was my pleasure. These two were easy; it was Bramblepaw who had the hard part.”

“He always was a good father,” Sorreltail sighed. “When he found out the truth about…” She trailed off, but Firestar knew what she was going to say. About Hollyleaf, Lionblaze and Jayfeather. Seeing the way Bramblepaw had played with Squirrelkit, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that they’d had such a loving cat to raise them.

Sandstorm took Brightheart’s place, curling herself around their kits.Squirrelkit was not enthused about Sandstorm’s attempted grooming, and she squirmed in annoyance.

Firestar laughed, lying down beside his mate. “Come here, little one.” She perked up, ducking away from Sandstorm’s tongue, and settling down next to him. He knew he’d have to go back to his den at some point, but right now, this time with his family was all he cared about.

*  *  *  *  *

“Right,” Firestar meowed. “Attack me.”

A few fox-lengths away, Bramblepaw crouched on the floor of the hollow. Firestar waited as the apprentice began to creep toward him, his amber eyes darting from side to side as if he was choosing the best place to strike.

A heartbeat later Bramblepaw launched himself into the air. But Firestar was ready for him. Slipping rapidly to one side, he butted Bramblepaw in the flank as he came down, and the young cat lost his balance and rolled over, his paws scuffing up dust.

“You’ll have to be quicker than that,” Firestar told him. “Don’t give your enemy time to think.”

Bramblepaw scrambled up, spitting out sand, and immediately sprang again. His outstretched paws caught Firestar on the side of the head, thrusting the older cat sideways so that his paws slid out from under him. Bramblepaw held him down, his nose almost touching Firestar’s.

“Like that?” he asked.

Firestar pushed him off. “Let me up, you great lump!” Shaking sand out of his pelt, he added, “Yes, just like that. You’re shaping up well, Bramblepaw.”

The apprentice’s eyes glowed and Firestar suddenly felt as if he were looking at a young Tigerstar — but this was Tigerstar as he should have been: strong, skillful, brave and, yes, ambitious, but in Bramblepaw all the ambition seemed to be focused on becoming the best warrior that he could be in the service of his Clan.

Firestar couldn’t resist letting out a purr of satisfaction. Amid all the troubles that beset ThunderClan, it was a relief to escape for a short time for a training session with his apprentice.

But Bramblepaw’s next words reminded him of his weightier responsibilities. “Firestar, I wanted to ask you. . .why does every cat think it would be so bad to be part of TigerClan?”

“What? ” Firestar felt a surge of surprise; he could hardly believe his apprentice had asked the question.

Bramblepaw flinched, but he went on, steadily meeting his mentor’s eyes. “Ashwing told me what Tigerstar said. It’s true that times are hard. Every cat’s always complaining about the shortage of prey, and how there are more Twolegs in the forest than ever before. Besides, TigerClan will be the strongest Clan in the forest if RiverClan joins with ShadowClan. Wouldn’t it make sense to join them?”

Firestar took a deep breath. After all, he had asked questions like these when he first came to the forest, not understanding why there should be rivalry and battle between the Clans. He sat down beside Bramblepaw. “It’s not as simple as that,” he meowed. “For one thing, there have always been four Clans in the forest. For another, it would mean the end of ThunderClan.”

“Why?”

“Because we cannot believe Tigerstar when he says the four leaders would rule jointly.” Firestar tried to speak gently, remembering he was talking about the young cat’s father, but there was no hiding the stark truth. “Tigerstar would take control. We would lose everything that makes us ThunderClan.”

For a few heartbeats Bramblepaw was silent. Then he meowed, “I see. Thank you, Firestar. That’s what I wanted to know.”

“Then let’s get on.” Firestar sprang to his paws. “There’s a move I think you might find useful. ...”

As he continued with the training session, he found that he was glad his apprentice was willing to speak his mind. It was true that Tigerstar’s proposal was convincing, and explaining its problems to Bramblepaw had helped strengthen his own resolve.

*  *  *  *  *

When the training session was over, Firestar sent Bramblepaw to hunt for the elders. He was about to return to camp when Cloudtail bounded over the top of the training hollow, closely followed by Brightheart.

“Firestar! We’re going to practice Brightheart’s fighting moves. Do you want to see how she’s coming on?”

“Yes, of course — go ahead.” Even though Brightheart was already a warrior, it was sometimes hard to see the gentle she-cat as a fighting cat. Watching her with Leafkit and Yellowkit the night before had shown she was a natural with kits. But right now she was happy and confident, and he wanted to encourage her as much as he could.

Cloudtail and Brightheart ran into the middle of the hollow. Brightheart closed one eye and flattened an ear to her head. For a few heartbeats they prowled around each other; then Cloudtail darted in and gave Brightheart a couple of blows with sheathed paws on the blind side of her head. Brightheart rolled with the impact and Firestar tensed, imagining the damage an enemy cat might have done with his claws out and all his strength behind the blow.

But instead of rolling away from Cloudtail, Brightheart propelled herself toward him, tangling her paws with his and throwing him off balance. Firestar pricked his ears with interest as the two cats writhed together on the ground, and suddenly Brighthear pinning Cloudtail down with one paw on his neck.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Firestar meowed, padding over to join them as Brightheart released Cloudtail and the young white warrior jumped up and shook sand out of his pelt. “Brightheart, try it on me.”

Looking nervous, Brightheart faced him. Firestar found it harder than he had expected to come up on her blind side; the young she-cat kept weaving back and forth so that he had to change his position. When at last he leaped at her, she slid under his outstretched paws and tripped him in the same way that she had surprised Cloudtail. For a few heartbeats they wrestled together until at last Firestar managed to hold her down.

“Harder than it looks, isn’t it?” meowed Cloudtail, strolling up beside them with a delighted expression.

“It certainly is. Well done, Brightheart.” Firestar let the she-cat get up; her open eye was shining at his praise. For the first time he began to wonder if she had a future as a fighting specialist after all. “Keep practicing,” he told her. “And let me watch you again soon. I think you definitely have something to teach the Clan.”

*  *  *  *  *

After the storm, the weather turned cold again. Every morning the grass and ferns were furred with frost, and there was another light fall of snow. Prey became scarcer still, and what the hunters managed to catch was thin and scrawny, scarcely a mouthful for a hungry cat.

“If I don’t get a decent meal soon I’ll fade away to a shadow,” Graystripe complained.

He and Firestar were on patrol not far from Fourtrees, along with Nighthunter, Longtail, and Thornclaw. Firestar had hoped they would find more prey farther from the camp, where the fire had never reached, but the catch was pitifully small.

“I’m going to try down by the stream,” Firestar meowed.

He headed down the slope to where a thicker growth of fern and shrubs marked the line of the stream. When he paused to taste the air the prey-scent was faint, and he could not hear any of the small sounds that would have alerted him to creatures scurrying through the grass.

With so little fresh-kill, the Clan was growing weaker by the day. Just enduring leaf-bare would be hard enough, but on top of that there was the new threat from TigerClan. Would they be strong enough to defend themselves? Firestar wondered.

His pawsteps led him by instinct down toward the stream and he crouched down to drink, prodding the thin ice at the very edge and shaking icy drops off his paw when it gave way.

As Firestar bent his head to lap from the stream, the sun came out behind him, striking through the leaves. Light dazzled on the water and surrounded Firestar’s reflection with golden rays. For a moment the image of his head disappeared, to be replaced by that of a roaring lion. It was the beast Firestar had heard described in so many elders’ tales, his flame-colored pelt blazing into a luxuriant mane, his eyes shining with unlimited strength and power.

Startled, Firestar leaped backward. He let out a yowl as he collided with a tree and stumbled into the dead leaves among its roots. When he looked up, Mistflow was facing him from across the stream.

The gray she-cat’s eyes were brimming with amusement, and she let out a little mrrow of laughter.

“Mistflow!” Firestar gasped. She had never come to him before when he was awake, and he wondered what this might mean. He sprang to his paws, ready to splash through the stream to her side, but she signaled with her tail for him to stay where he was.

“Take heed of what you have seen, Firestar,” she told him, her amusement vanishing like the frost at dawn. “Learn what you must be.”

“What do you mean?” Firestar asked urgently.

But as she finished speaking, Mistflow began to fade. Her eyes rested on him and her body paled until Firestar could see the bank of the stream through it.

“Mistflow, don’t leave me yet,” he begged. “I need you. I need StarClan.”

But her eyes shone for a heartbeat longer, and then she was gone.

“Firestar!” It was Graystripe’s voice. Firestar shook his head to clear it and turned to face his friend as he came padding down the bank.

“Are you okay?” Graystripe asked. “You yowled loud enough to scare all the prey between here and Fourtrees!”

“I’m fine,” Firestar replied. “Something startled me, that’s all.”

Graystripe examined him for a moment longer, as if he wasn’t quite satisfied with his leader’s explanation, and then turned away. “If you say so,” he meowed, retreating up the bank. “Come and see the rabbit Longtail caught — it’s as big as a fox!”

Firestar stayed where he was. He was still trembling from the shock of his vision. He had seen himself like one of the Great warriors of old, a member of LionClan. Bluestar’s prophecy echoed in his head again: Lion and Tiger will meet in battle.

Did this mean that a new Clan — LionClan — would arise to combat TigerClan? And did StarClan intend Firestar to lead it?

Chapter Text

“Firestar, ” meowed Graystripe. “I want to ask you something.”

Firestar was crouching by the nettle patch. He had just seen Brackenfur leaving at the head of the evening patrol, and now he was eating his share of fresh-kill before rounding up a patrol of his own for an extra check on the ShadowClan border.

“Sure,” he replied. “What is it?”

Graystripe crouched beside him, but before he could speak Tawnypaw came stalking out of the elders’ den, her head and her tail held high as she headed for the gorse tunnel. Her amber eyes blazed with anger. Bramblepaw emerged behind her, his jaws clamped on a bundle of bedding moss. He looked worried.

“Tawnypaw!” Firestar called. “What’s the matter?”

For a heartbeat he thought the apprentice was going to ignore him. Then she veered sharply to stand in front of him. “Smallear!” she spat. “If ever a cat asked to have his fur clawed off — ”

“You shouldn’t talk like that about an elder,” Firestar rebuked her. “Smallear’s given good service to the Clan and we should respect that.”

“What about a bit of respect for me?” Tawnypaw was so furious she seemed to have forgotten she was talking to her leader. “Just because I was a little late going to clear out the old bedding, Smallear said that Tigerstar had never wanted to serve the elders either, and he could see I was going to turn out just like my father.” She scraped her claws on the sandy floor of the clearing as if she were picturing the old tom’s fur. “It’s not the first time he’s said things, either. I don’t see why I should have to put up with it!”

While she was speaking, Bramblepaw had come to join them, putting down the moss he was carrying. “You know Smallear’s joints are aching because of the cold weather,” he meowed.

“You’re not my mentor!” Tawnypaw flared up at her brother. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Calm down, Tawnypaw,” Firestar mewed. He wanted to reassure her that no cat believed she would end up a murderer and traitor like her father, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. “You’re doing very well as an apprentice, and you’re going to make a great warrior. Sooner or later the Clan will see that.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Bramblepaw meowed, and added to his sister, “We’ve got to live down what Tigerstar did. That’s the only way the Clan will believe in our loyalty.”

“Some cats believe in it already,” Graystripe put in, and Bramblepaw flashed him a grateful glance.

The worst of Tawnypaw’s fury was fading, though her amber eyes still burned. With a toss of her head she turned away, flinging her parting words over her shoulder as she stalked toward the gorse tunnel. “I’m going to fetch some fresh moss.” Under her breath, she muttered, “If I can’t prove I’m not like Tigerstar here, then I’ll go where I can prove it.”

“I’m sorry, Firestar,” Bramblepaw murmured when she had gone. “But Tawnypaw’s right to be upset.”

“I know,” Firestar reassured him. “If I can catch Smallear at a good moment, I’ll have a word with him.”

“Thanks, Firestar.” Bramblepaw dipped his head in gratitude, picked up his moss, and hurried after his sister.

Firestar gazed worriedly after the two apprentices. He must talk to Smallear, he decided, and soon. Constantly taunting the young cats about their parentage was not the way to ensure their loyalty to ThunderClan.

Realising that Graystripe was still waiting patiently beside him, he mewed, “Okay, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s my kits,” Graystripe confessed. “Ever since the Gathering, I can’t get them out of my mind. Mistyfoot and Stonefur weren’t there and neither was Mosslight, so I couldn’t ask them for news, but now that Tigerstar has essentially taken over RiverClan, I’m sure my kits are in danger.”

Firestar took a bite of vole and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t see why they should be at risk more than any other cat,” he replied, swallowing his mouthful. “Tigerstar will want to look after all the apprentices to guarantee a strong fighting force.”

Graystripe didn’t look reassured. “But Tigerstar knows who their father is,” he pointed out. “He hates me, and I’m worried that he’ll take it out on Featherpaw and Stormpaw.”

Firestar realized that Graystripe had a fair point about Tigerstar’ s hostility. “What would you like to do?”

Graystripe blinked nervously. “I want you to come with me across the river and bring them back to ThunderClan.”

Firestar stared at his friend. “Are you completely mouse-brained? You’re asking your Clan leader to stroll into RiverClan territory and steal a couple of apprentices?”

Graystripe scraped his forepaw on the ground. “Well, if you put it like that. .

“How else would you put it?” Firestar tried to control his shock, but Graystripe’s suggestion was too close to Brokentail’s old crime of stealing kits. If Firestar agreed and RiverClan found out about it, they would be justified in attacking ThunderClan. And with ShadowClan to help them, that was a risk Firestar couldn’t take.

“I knew you wouldn’t listen.” Graystripe turned and began to retreat, his tail drooping.

“I am listening. Graystripe, come back and let’s think about this.” As Graystripe stopped, Firestar went on: “You don’t know that Featherpaw and Stormpaw are in danger. And they’re apprentices now, not kits. They have the right to decide their own future. What if they want to stay in RiverClan?”

“I know.” Graystripe sounded despairing. “Don’t worry, Firestar. I understand there’s nothing you can do to help.”

“I didn’t say that.” Against all his better judgment, Firestar knew he couldn’t stand by and do nothing to help his friend. Graystripe pricked his ears, half-hopeful, as Firestar went on: “Suppose we go over there quietly, just the two of us, and check on them? If they’re okay, then you won’t need to worry any more. If they’re not, I’ll tell them there’s a place for them in ThunderClan, if that’s what they choose.”

Graystripe’s yellow eyes had begun to glow as Firestar spoke. “That’s great!” he meowed. “Thanks, Firestar. Can we go now?”

“If you like. Let me finish this vole first. You find Whitestorm and tell him he’s in charge of the camp. But don’t tell him where we’re going,” he added quickly.

Graystripe bounded off to the warriors’ den while Firestar swallowed the last few gulps of vole and swiped his tongue over his mouth. By the time he had finished, Graystripe had reappeared and the two friends headed for the mouth of the gorse tunnel.

Reaching it, however, they stopped short as two familiar shape slipped into the clearing.

“Ravenpaw!” Firestar exclaimed happily, recognizing the black-furred tom. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you” Ravenpaw responded, touching noses in greeting with Firestar and then with Graystripe. “Graystripe, I haven’t seen you in moons! How are you?”

“I’m fine. It’s easy to see you’re doing well,” he added, eyeing Ravenpaw’s glossy black pelt.

Sorreltail snorted. “It’s perks of living in a barn that’s warm even in leaf-bare.”

“I came to pay my respects to Bluestar,” Ravenpaw explained. “You remember, Firestar, you said I could.”

“Yes, of course.” Firestar glanced at Graystripe, whose paws were working urgently in his haste to be off. “Ravenpaw, can you go and find Cinderpelt? She’ll show you the place where Bluestar is buried. Graystripe and I are just off on a mission.”

“That sounds like the old days!” meowed Ravenpaw, half enviously. “What is it this time?”

“We’re going over to RiverClan to check on my kits,” Graystripe told him in a rush. “I’m worried about them, now that Tigerstar is taking over.”

Ravenpaw’s shocked look reminded Firestar that he knew nothing of the recent developments in the forest. Rapidly he told the black cat what Tigerstar had announced at the last Gathering.

“But that’s a disaster!” Ravenpaw hissed when he had finished. “Is there anything I can do to help? I could come with you.”

His eyes were gleaming. Firestar guessed Ravenpaw was excited by the prospect of adventure. How different he was now from the nervous apprentice he had once been, bullied by his fierce mentor, Tigerclaw!

Sorreltail grinned. “And I’m definitely coming. There’s something I want to see.”

“All right,” he meowed, trusting his instincts that it would be good to have Ravenpaw and Sorreltail with them, though the tortoiseshell’s enthusiasm did worry him slightly. “We’ll be glad to have you.”

As he bounded through the forest, his two oldest friends by his side and the time traveler just a pawstep behind, Firestar felt his mind flood with memories of how they had trained and hunted together as apprentices. For a short time he could almost imagine that those days had returned, that he had shed his responsibilities like falling leaves and was young and carefree again.

But he knew that this was impossible. He was Clan leader now, and he could never escape from his duty to the cats who depended on him.

*  *  *  *  *

The sun had gone down by the time that Firestar and his friends reached the edge of the forest. Warning the others to stay back, Firestar crept through the undergrowth until he could look out over the river.

In front of him lay the stepping-stones, the easiest route into RiverClan territory. As Firestar peered at the cold, gray water, he caught a strong scent of cats — RiverClan and ShadowClan mixed. A patrol was making its way along the opposite bank. They were too far away for Firestar to be sure which cats they were, but he could not see the blue-gray pelts of Mistyfoot and Stonefur or the gray-and-white fur of Mosslight.

He felt a pang of disappointment. If either of their friends had been near the border, Graystripe could have asked them for news and the matter could have ended there. Now they would have to go right into RiverClan territory.

Firestar knew he was risking everything on slipping in and slipping out again quietly, unobserved. If it was ever found out that a Clan leader had trespassed on another Clan’s territory, he would be in trouble. But he knew that he had to do it for Graystripe.

The gray warrior had crept up beside him. “What’s the matter?” he whispered. “Why are we waiting here?”

Firestar angled his ears toward the patrol. A moment later they disappeared into a reed bed and their scent slowly faded.

“Okay, let’s go,” Firestar meowed.

Leading the way, he leaped from one stepping-stone to another across the black, swiftly flowing water. He thought back to the floods of last leaf-bare, when he, Dovewing, and Graystripe had almost drowned saving the lives of two of Mistyfoot’s kits, along with Longtooth and Icerunner. Leopardstar had conveniently forgotten that now, Firestar realized, as well as how the three ThunderClan warriors, along with Ivypool, had helped the starving cats of RiverClan by taking them fresh-kill from their own hunting grounds.

But there was no point in thinking about that now. Reaching the far bank, Firestar slid into the shelter of a clump of reeds and checked once again that no enemy cats were near. All he could scent was the traces of the patrol, steadily growing fainter.

Treading softly, he made his way upriver toward the RiverClan camp. Sorreltail, Graystripe and Ravenpaw followed, silent as shadows.

Suddenly a new scent drifted on the breeze. Firestar paused, his whiskers twitching. His eyes widened as he recognized the reek of carrion, crowfood that had rotted for days until its foul stench poisoned the air.

“Ugh! What’s that?” growled Ravenpaw, forgetting the need for silence.

Firestar swallowed the bile that rose into his throat. “I don’t know. I’d say it was a foxhole, but there’s no scent of fox.”

Sorreltail hissed. “I’ve never scented it myself, but I know exactly what is.” The fear and anger in her voice scared Firestar.

“It stinks, whatever it is,” Graystripe muttered. “Come on, Firestar, we need to keep going before some cat catches us.”

“No,” Firestar meowed. “I know you’re worried about your kits, Graystripe, but this is too strange. We have to investigate.”

A few tail-lengths ahead, a tiny stream flowed sluggishly into the main river. Firestar turned to follow it through more reeds. The stench grew stronger, and beneath the smell of crowfood he began to pick up the scent of many cats, a mixture of ShadowClan and RiverClan like the patrol. He halted and signaled for his friends to do the same as he began to make out noises from somewhere ahead: movement in the reeds and the voices of cats mingling together.

“What is this?” Graystripe whispered. “We’re nowhere near the camp.”

Firestar flicked the tip of his tail for silence. At least the stench would mask their ThunderClan scent and make it easier for them to stay hidden.

More cautiously than ever Firestar crept on again until the reeds began to thin out and he came to the edge of a clearing. Flattening himself against the damp ground he crawled as far forward as he dared and looked out.

At once he had to clamp his teeth hard to keep back a yowl of shock and anger. The stream ran along one side of the clearing, its near-stagnant waters clogged by the remains of fresh-kill carelessly flung there and left to rot. Cats crouched on the bank, tearing at prey. But that was not what had roused Firestar’ s fury.

Opposite his hiding place, on the far side of the clearing was a vast hill of bones. They gleamed like stripped branches in the last of the watery daylight, some tiny shrew bones hardly bigger than teeth, others as big as the leg bone of a fox or a badger.

Icy trembling seized Firestar’s body. For a heartbeat he thought he was back in his dream at Fourtrees. He remembered the blood that had come oozing out of that hill of bones, and longed to flee in terror. But this was far worse than the dream because Firestar knew that it was happening now, in the real world. And crouched on top of the pile, his fur black against the sun-bleached remains, was Tigerstar, leader of the new united Clan.

“Bonehill!” Sorreltail whispered.

Firestar forced himself to stay hidden. He had to find out what Tigerstar was doing. The others crept forward to crouch beside him. Ravenpaw’s fur bristled, and Graystripe looked as if he were going to be sick. Meanwhile, Sorreltail seemed almost anticipatory. Clearly she knew exactly what was supposed to happen next.

After the first shock ebbed, Firestar examined the scene more closely. The hill was made up of only prey bones, not mixed with cat bones like the one in his dream. On one side of it stood the ShadowClan deputy, Stripestalk, and beside her were Blackfoot and Clawface. On the other side was Leopardstar. Her gaze flicked nervously back and forth across the clearing. Firestar wondered if she regretted what had happened to her Clan, and he guessed that her ambition to make her Clan strong had blinded her to Tigerstar’s real nature. But whatever the former RiverClan leader felt, it was too late for her to go back now.

“I can’t see my kits,” Graystripe whispered, a breath of sound close to Firestar’s ear.

Mosslight, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur weren’t there either, Firestar realized. In fact, most of the cats in the clearing came from ShadowClan, though he spotted the RiverClan warriors Blackclaw and Heavystep. There was no sign of either medicine cat, and Firestar wondered if that was significant.

He was still watching, too stunned to know what to do next, when Tigerstar rose to his paws. A few small bones rattled down the side of the hill. The dark tabby’s eyes blazed in the fading light as he let out a triumphant yowl.

“Cats of TigerClan, gather here around the Bonehill for a Clan meeting!”

Immediately the cats in the clearing approached the hill, crouching low in respect. Others appeared from the reeds.

“He must have built that hill to look like the Highrock,” Ravenpaw murmured. “So he can look down on his Clan.”

The dark tabby waited until his warriors were all in place and then announced, “It is time for the trial to begin. Fetch the prisoners!”

Firestar exchanged a bewildered look with Graystripe. Where had Tigerstar found prisoners? Had he already mounted an attack on WindClan?

At Tigerstar’s order, a ShadowClan warrior — Jaggedtooth, who had been one of Brokentail’s rogues — vanished into the reeds. He returned a few moments later dragging another cat with him. At first Firestar did not recognize the skinny gray warrior, his fur unkempt and one ear shredded and bleeding. Then, as Jaggedtooth pushed him into the circle of cats beneath the Bonehill, Firestar realized it was Stonefur.

Firestar felt Graystripe stiffen beside him, and put out a warning paw for his friend not to give them away. Graystripe’ s ears twitched but he stayed still and silent, watching.

The reeds parted again. This time Firestar knew at once the cat who stepped into the clearing, his fur sleek and his head raised proudly. It was Darkstripe. Traitor! Firestar thought, his belly clenching in anger. Beside him, Sorreltail snarled quietly at the sight of the cat who had tried to poison her.

More movement in the reeds heralded the arrival of another ShadowClan warrior who was shepherding two smaller cats, one a silver-gray tabby and the other with thick, gray fur. Though they appeared healthy like Stonefur, they bore similar wounds to the warrior, their steps were unsteady as they staggered into the clearing. Huddling together in the shadow of the Bonehill, they looked around them with wide, scared eyes.

An icy chill gripped Firestar’s muscles. The two young cats were Graystripe’s kits, Featherpaw and Stormpaw.

Graystripe growled deep in his throat and gathered himself to spring.

“No!” Firestar gasped, leaping on his friend before he could leave the shadow of the reeds. “If Tigerstar sees us, we’re crowfood!”

On Graystripe’s other side Ravenpaw grabbed him by one shoulder. “Firestar’s right,” he hissed. “What chance would we have against all these cats?”

Graystripe writhed desperately, as if he hadn’t heard. “Let me go!” he snarled. “I’ll flay that piece of fox dung! I’ll rip his heart out!”

“No!” Firestar repeated in an agonized whisper. “We’ll be slaughtered if we show ourselves now. We won’t leave your kits, Graystripe, I promise we won’t, but we’ve got to wait for the right moment to rescue them.”

Graystripe went on struggling for a moment longer, then subsided with a grunt of agreement. Firestar let him go, nodding to Ravenpaw to do the same.

“Listen,” he murmured. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”

While they had been holding Graystripe down, Tigerstar had begun to speak, his voice drowning the noise of their scuffle among the reeds. Sorreltail was watching intently.

“Cats of TigerClan,” he began, “you all know the hardships that we have to face. The cold of leaf-bare threatens us. Twolegs threaten us. The other two Clans in the forest, who have not yet realized the wisdom of joining with TigerClan, are a threat to us.”

Firestar’s tail- tip twitched in anger and he flashed a look at Graystripe. Tigerstar was the threat! All that ThunderClan and WindClan wanted was to get on with their lives in peace, according to the ancient traditions of StarClan and the warrior code.

But Graystripe’s burning gaze was fixed on his two kits, cowering at the base of the Bonehill; he was unaware of Firestar’s glance.

“Surrounded as we are by enemies,” Tigerstar went on, “we must be sure of the loyalty of our own warriors. There is no room in TigerClan for the halfhearted. No room for cats who might waver in battle, or worse still, turn on their own Clan mates. TigerClan will not tolerate traitors!”

Except the traitor who leads it, Firestar thought. Or Darkstripe, who would have watched his own Clan be devoured by dogs.

The cats in the clearing broke out into yowls of agreement. Tigerstar allowed the clamor to continue for a moment before signaling with his tail for silence. The noise died and he began to speak again.

“Especially we will not tolerate the abomination of half-Clan cats. No loyal warrior would ever take a mate from another Clan, diluting the pure blood that our warrior ancestors decreed for us. Bluestar and Graystripe of ThunderClan both flouted the warrior code when they took mates from RiverClan. The kits of such a union, like the ones you see in front of you now, can never be trusted.”

He paused, and his deputy Stripestalk yowled out, “Filth! Filth!” The cruelty and harshness of the words didn’t match the sadness in her eyes.

Darkstripe took up the cry, and a chorus of yowls and screeches echoed his words. This time Tigerstar let them fall quiet in their own time, gazing out over the cats below him with a look of calm satisfaction.

He and Stripestalk must have rehearsed all this, Firestar realized in horror.

He noticed that it was the ShadowClan warriors who yowled the loudest. The RiverClan cats joined in less enthusiastically; Firestar guessed they might not all fully agree with the ShadowClan leader, but they did not dare stay silent.

The two half-Clan apprentices flattened themselves close to the ground, as if they were afraid of being swept away in the gale of the Clan’s fury. Stonefur crouched over them as if he could protect them, gazing around with defiance in his eyes.

Where are Mistyfoot and Mosslight? Firestar wondered. Tigerstar knows they’re half-Clan too. What has he done with them?

Tigerstar spoke again. “Half-Clan cats have been tolerated until now, but the time for tolerance has passed. There is no place in TigerClan for warriors who owe allegiance to two Clans. How can we trust them not to betray our secrets, or even turn on us and kill us? Can we expect StarClan to fight on our side if we allow those who are not pure in heart and blood to walk freely among us?”

“No!” Darkstripe screeched, flexing his claws and lashing his tail from side to side.

“No, my friends. We must get rid of the abominations in our midst! Then our Clan will be clean again and we can be sure of the favor of StarClan.”

Stonefur sprang to his paws. He faced Tigerstar, bristling with fury.

“No cat has ever questioned my loyalty,” he snarled. “Come down here and tell me to my face that I’m a traitor!”

Firestar wanted to wail aloud at the blue-gray warrior’s hopeless courage. Tigerstar could have swatted him aside with one paw, and yet Stonefur still remained defiant.

“Mistyfoot and I never even knew that Bluestar was our mother until a couple of moons ago,” Stonefur insisted. “And Mosslight may have known, but she chose RiverClan. We have been loyal RiverClan warriors all our lives. Let any cat who thinks different come out here and prove it!”

Tigerstar angrily swept his tail toward Leopardstar. “You showed poor judgment when you chose this cat’s sister as your deputy,” he growled. “RiverClan is choked by the weeds of treachery, and we must root them out.”

To Firestar’s dismay, Leopardstar bowed her head. The gesture showed just how far Tigerstar’s power extended, that the once-formidable RiverClan leader was unable or unwilling to protect her own deputy. Then her eyes glinted as she looked towards the bushes Firestar and his friends were hidden in. She knows we’re here! Why isn’t she saying anything?

Yet the dark tabby’s words gave Firestar hope. It sounded as if Tigerstar was about to banish Stonefur and the two apprentices. If he did, then Firestar and his friends could wait for them at the border, ready to take them back to ThunderClan, where they would be safe.

When Tigerstar spoke again, his voice was measured and cold. “Stonefur, I will give you a chance to show your loyalty to TigerClan. Kill these two half-Clan apprentices.”

An eerie silence spread through the clearing, broken only by Graystripe’s gasp of outrage. Luckily the TigerClan warriors were so intent on the scene in front of them that no cat heard him.

“Firestar!” Graystripe whispered. “We must do something!” His claws dug into the ground and his muscles bunched, ready to spring, yet his eyes were fixed on Firestar as if he would not attack without his leader’s order.

Ravenpaw’s eyes, bright with distress, turned to Firestar. “We can’t just watch them die!”

“They’ll be fine,” Sorreltail promised. “No cat will harm them today.”

Firestar could feel his fur prickling with tension. He knew he could not stay crouching here in hiding while Graystripe’s kits were threatened a few fox-lengths away. If all else failed, he was ready to give up his life in a battle to save them.

“Wait just a moment,” he murmured. “Let’s see what Stonefur does.”

The blue-gray warrior had turned to face Leopardstar. “I take orders from you," he growled. “You must know this is wrong. What do you want me to do?”

For a heartbeat Leopardstar looked uncertain, and again Firestar began to hope that she would take a stand against Tigerstar and stop the destruction of her Clan. But he had underestimated the strength of her ambition, and her misguided faith that Tigerstar offered an invincible future. “These are difficult times,” she meowed at last. “As we fight for survival we must be able to count on every one of our Clanmates. There is no room for divided loyalties. Do what you must.”

Stonefur held her gaze for a moment more, a moment that to Firestar seemed to last for several moons. Then he faced the two apprentices and they shrank away from him, their eyes glazed with terror.

Stormpaw gave his sister a comforting lick. “We’ll fight him,” he promised. “I won’t let him kill us.”

Brave words, Firestar thought desperately. Stonefur was a skilled, experienced warrior, and he was a formidable threat to two half-trained apprentices who had imprisoned as well.

The RiverClan warrior gave a little nod to Stormpaw, just like any mentor approving of his apprentice’s courage. Then he turned to look up at Tigerstar again.

“You’ll have to kill me first, Tigerstar!” he spat.

Narrowing his eyes, Tigerstar flicked his tail at Darkstripe. “Very well. Kill him,” he ordered.

“This’ll be fun,” Sorreltail purred. Firestar wondered what she meant.

The black-striped warrior crouched low, every hair on his pelt quivering with joy that Tigerstar had given him a chance to prove his loyalty to his new Clan. With a grunt of effort, he hurled himself at Stonefur.

Amusement flooded through Firestar. He could see only one end to the fight. The blue-gray warrior was still strong and well-fed. He would easily be more than a match for Darkstripe. Despite this, Firestar wanted to leap into the clearing and fight on Stonefur’s side, but he knew it would be suicidal in the presence of so many enemy cats. He knew that he had to hold back in the hope, however slight, of saving the apprentices. Firestar had scarcely known an ordeal worse than the one he faced now, remaining hidden while his friend fought alone.

Clearly, Stonefur’s skills had not deserted him. Quick as lightning, he dropped backward so that instead of landing on his shoulders Darkstripe was faced with all four paws, claws extended to rip at his fur.

Firestar felt his throat tighten. He remembered a day during his apprenticeship when Stonefur’s mother, Bluestar, had taught him that very move. Bluestar, if you can see this, help him now! he begged.

The two warriors were a clawing, screeching knot of fur on the floor of the clearing. The rest of the cats scrambled backward to give them space, still keeping the same eerie silence. They were so intent on the battle, Firestar wondered for a moment if this might be the best time to rescue the apprentices. But Tigerstar was still crouched on top of the Bonehill, with a clear view of the whole clearing, and he would easily see them coming.

Stonefur had fastened his teeth into Darkstripe’s scruff and was trying to shake the dark warrior, but Darkstripe’s greater size and strength were too much. He lost his grip and the two warriors sprang apart, breathing hard. Blood was trickling from a scratch above Darkstripe’s left eye, and clumps of fur were missing from his flank. Stone fur’s pelt was even more ragged, and as he shook one forepaw spots of blood spattered on the ground.

“Get a move on, Darkstripe!” Blackfoot jeered. “You’re fighting like a kittypet!” Beside him, Stripestalk purred agreement.

With a hiss of fury Darkstripe launched another attack, but Stonefur was ready for him again. Slipping to one side, he raked his claws down Darkstripe’s side, and followed up with a blow to his back leg as the dark warrior crashed past him. Stonefur staggered from the force of the impact, but by the time Darkstripe regained his paws, he had recovered. This time the RiverClan warrior went on the attack, bowling Darkstripe over and fastening teeth and claws in his neck.

Firestar heard Graystripe’s intake of breath. His yellow eyes were blazing; on his other side Ravenpaw was sinking his unsheathed claws into the ground. Firestar felt hope burn in his belly. Was it possible that Stonefur could win?

“Take that, Foxdung!” Sorreltail cheered quietly.

But Tigerstar had no intention of letting Stonefur escape. As Darkstripe struggled vainly to break free, the massive tabby flicked his ears at Blackfoot. “Finish it,” he ordered.

The ShadowClan warrior hesitated, flinching at Tigerstar’s amber glare, and flung himself into the battle. But before he could reach the RiverClan warrior, a dark gray she-cat hurtled from the shadows and crashed into his side. Blackfoot staggered backwards, and Firestar recognized Minnowtail.

“Rebels, attack!” she yowled furiously.

Just like that, the clearing exploded into battle. Blackclaw lunged at Fernshade, burying his teeth in the she-cat’s shoulder. Clawface struck a hefty blow at Boulder, knocking the silver tom away. Marigoldleaf and Mintshade wrestled with Jetstalker, while Deerfoot faced Jaggedtooth, snarling. Whitethroat faced Nightwhisper, though to Firestar’s confusion, neither tom seemed happy to fight.

Tigerstar stared down at the chaos, his eyes burning with confusion and rage. Glancing at Stripestalk, he ordered, “Take Scratchflight and get the abominations back to their prison!” Then he scrambled down the Bonehill and tackled Minnowtail, who had an unresisting Blackfoot pinned.

Meanwhile, Stripestalk flicked her tail at Stonefur and the apprentices. The blue-gray warrior stopped tormenting Darkstripe, banging the dark tabby’s head into the ground to render him unconscious, and followed her.

To Firestar’s surprise, Stripestalk led the cats straight to where he and his friends were hiding. As they pushed through the bushes, Graystripe leaped to his paws and began sniffing his kits worriedly.

“Are you both okay?” he demanded.

“We’re fine,” Stormpaw promised.

Stripestalk nodded. “Tigerstar didn’t want the RiverClan cats to keep watch over Stonefur and the others, so he put me in charge of choosing the guard.”

“His mistake,” Stonefur growled. “Apparently his deputy has been secretly turning cats against him. She made sure our guards were sympathetic to us and provided us with enough prey.”

“Not enough of them wanted to turn on him,” Stripestalk sighed. “But we don’t have time for that now. We have to get out of here.”

Firestar stared at her. “But what about Mosslight and Mistyfoot?”

“Mossyfoot’s already brought them to the stepping-stones,” Stonefur explained. Nodding to the two apprentices, he meowed, “It’s time to go.”

Firestar set a brisk pace back toward the river, feeling himself relax as the stench of the Bonehill and the scattered prey began to fade, along with the sounds of the battle. Graystripe helped the two apprentices along, encouraging them with gentle nudges and mews. Mistyfoot kept up bravely, limping on paws cracked and sore after her imprisonment, while Ravenpaw stayed at the rear, his ears tilted back for the sounds of pursuit.

The night was silent except for the murmur of water, and by the time the river came in sight they had not encountered any other cats. Turning downstream toward the stepping-stones, Firestar dared to hope that they would escape undetected.

To his horror, before they could reach the river, their path was blocked by two cats. Firestar recognized Leopardstar’s distinctive golden spotted pelt immediately, but it took him a few more heartbeats to recognize Scratchflight as well.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” the brown tom growled menacingly. “Stripestalk, I was fairly certain Tigerstar ordered you to bring the prisoners back to their den, not escort them to ThunderClan territory.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle this,” she muttered to the rest of them. Stalking forward, she stood a few tail-lengths away from Scratchflight. “Listen to me,” she meowed urgently. “Tigerstar is a terrible cat and a murderer. You don’t have to do what he says. You can go with the others and be free from him, or return to the Twolegplace if you want.”

Scratchflight’s eyes brightened with dark pleasure. “Ah, you are a traitor. I’d suspected it before, when you oh-so-conveniently pushed Blackfoot into the one place that would cause ShadowClan to cry out for his life to be spared, and again when you insisted on taking evening patrols alone but took far too long to return to camp. But now I have unquestionable proof.”

Stripestalk glared at him. “Don’t do this. You’re completely outnumbered.”

“Am I?” he asked calmly. “It appears another deputy position has opened up.”

He lifted his head, opening his mouth to call out, and Stripestalk charged him. She hit him hard in the chest with her shoulder, her much smaller size allowing her to slip under his guard. He coughed harshly, clearly winded, and stepped back, panting heavily as he fought to recover.

Stripestalk didn’t give Scratchflight the chance to recover. She lashed out at his muzzle, her claws drawing blood, and reared up to cuff his ears. With a hiss, she leaped onto his back, digging her teeth into his ear. He screeched painfully and flipped onto his back, crushing her beneath him.

Without hesitating, he flipped back to his paws and raised his black paw. His claws glinted in the fading light as he aimed for her throat. But just as he lashed out, Leopardstar barreled into him from behind. His claws sliced into Stripestalk’s shoulder instead.

Scratchflight began to spin so he could face his new attacker, but Leopardstar was faster. In a flash of golden fur, she dived for him and bit deeply into his neck. He fell limp with a grunt.

Firestar stared at Leopardstar and she shrugged. “I protect my cats,” she told him. “Stripestalk may be loyal to ThunderClan, but she’s rescuing RiverClan cats. I couldn’t let Scratchflight stop her.”

“Thank you,” Stripestalk murmured, wincing as she lapped at the wound Scratchflight had given her. To Firestar’s relief, it didn’t seem deep.

Stonefur dipped his head to his leader. “Thank you for helping us.”

Leopardstar smiled. “You’ve been a brave and loyal member of RiverClan since you were a kit. At another time, I might have let fear cloud my judgement, but I’ve spent a lot of time talking to Minnowtail and Mossyfoot. And after I learned that Tigerstar killed Silverstream, there was no way I was going to truly join him.”

A horrified gasp came from Graystripe and he looked directly at Firestar. “What is she talking about? You said that she died losing her balance after saving Graypool?” Glaring at Leopardstar, he added, “And how long have you known? Why did no cat tell me?”

Firestar opened his mouth to reply.

Then a distant yowling sounded through the reeds and the cats froze in their tracks.

“The prisoners have escaped!”

Stripestalk frowned. “I have to get back, now!”

Leopardstar nodded agreement "Take care of my Clanmates," she told Firestar. Then the two she-cats quickly vanished in the darkness.

“Quick — the stepping-stones!’’ Firestar hissed.

Alone, the ThunderClan cats could have raced easily out of danger, but none of them would abandon the injured prisoners. Graystripe fell back to join Ravenpaw as rearguard, while Firestar and Sorreltail tried to urge on the RiverClan cats.

“You’ll have to leave us!” Stonefur gasped. “There’s no sense in all of us being captured.”

“Never!” snarled Graystripe. “We’re all in this together.”

By now they were bounding alongside the river, the RiverClan cats stumbling in their efforts to keep up. Firestar could already see the ripples in the water where the current was broken by the stepping-stones. But the yowling behind them grew louder, and when he turned his head to draw in a rapid gulp of air he could taste the scent of ShadowClan.

“Great StarClan!” he whispered. “They’re catching up.”

None of the pursuing cats had appeared yet by the time they reached the stepping-stones, where Mistyfoot and Mosslight were waiting anxiously. Firestar leaped onto the first stone, then the second, and gestured with his tail for Mistyfoot to follow.

“Hurry!” he urged.

Mistyfoot bent her hind legs and leaped, staggering as her paws hit the slippery surface, but managing to keep her balance. The two apprentices came next. Firestar stopped when he was halfway across and waited, the river water lapping his paws, while the other cats leaped out behind him.

Because the RiverClan cats were injured they were concerningly slow, bracing themselves for each leap. Mistyfoot reached him first, and Firestar edged to the side of the stone to let her go past. The two apprentices were still some way behind, with Mosslight helping Stonefur at the bank. Firestar’s claws scraped the rough stone in his impatience, though he tried to stay calm. When the first dark shapes of pursuing cats slipped out of the reeds he forced himself to say nothing. Stormpaw was just nerving himself to leap; Firestar locked his gaze with the younger cat’s. “Come on,” he mewed steadily. “You’re doing fine.”

But as her brother gathered himself, Featherpaw, a couple of stones behind him, spotted the ShadowClan warriors racing along the riverbank. “They’re coming!” she yowled.

Caught off balance, Stormpaw misjudged the distance and fell short. His forepaws landed on the stone, but his hindquarters splashed into the river. The current bubbled around him, dragging at his thick fur as he scrabbled to pull himself to safety.

“I’m slipping!” He gasped. “I can’t hold on!”

Firestar jumped back onto the previous stone, barely managing to balance in the space left by Stormpaw’s clawing forepaws. He fastened his teeth in the apprentice’s scruff just as the younger cat lost his grip and slid backward into the river. For a few heartbeats Firestar felt his own paws sliding on the smooth rock under Stormpaw’s weight and the force of the current.

Then he spotted Graystripe swimming up behind his son, paws thrusting strongly through the icy water. The gray warrior shoved his shoulder underneath Stormpaw and heaved him upward. Firestar managed to haul the apprentice out to crouch shivering on the rock.

Glancing toward the RiverClan shore, Firestar saw Ravenpaw urging Featherpaw onto the next stone, getting his own paws wet to leave her space to stand on the driest part.

Behind them, the pursuing cats had reached the first stone. Blackfoot was in the lead, flanked by Jaggedtooth and Jetstalker and two or three others — too many to fight, Firestar realized.

“Come on!” he yowled. “Hurry!” He nudged the shivering Stormpaw. “Keep going — follow Mistyfoot!”

Blackfoot crouched, ready to spring, his eyes fixed on the stepping-stone where Ravenpaw had put himself between Featherpaw and the ShadowClan warrior. Firestar’s belly clenched. The loner was brave, but his training days were far behind him. He'd only been in one fight since he'd left ThunderClan, and he would be no match for a seasoned warrior like the white-furred tom.

Graystripe began swimming back toward Ravenpaw. A wild screech split the air as the rest of the ShadowClan warriors spread along the bank in a menacing line.

“Keep going!” Firestar gasped to Mistyfoot. “Take Stormpaw with you. I’m going back.”

But before he could move, a fierce battle yowl went up from the forest on the ThunderClan side of the river. Firestar saw three shapes streaking out of the undergrowth: Cloudtail, with Sandstorm and Thornclaw just behind him.

“Thank StarClan — ” he began, breaking off as Cloudtail leaped toward the river, eyes blazing and claws extended. At first, it seemed he was heading straight for Mistyfoot, who was just jumping from the last stone onto the bank. Then he flashed past her, raced across the stones, and hit Jaggedtooth hard.

Firestar glanced toward the middle of the river, where Ravenpaw and Graystripe were tussling with Blackfoot on the central stone. Stormpaw was nerving himself for the last leap onto the bank, while Featherpaw huddled two or three stones farther back. Sandstorm and Thornclaw launched themselves across the stones to face the ShadowClan warriors, the two apprentices cowering at the edge of their stones to let them pass. Mosslight had helped Stonefur to the second stone and now fought with Jetstalker on the far bank. Sorreltail was wrestling with two of the ShadowClan warriors at once, occasionally letting out cheerful growls.

Firestar bunched his muscles to follow the others, but before he leaped he saw Blackfoot slip exaggeratedly off the stone to be swept away in the current. He ducked briefly below the surface of the water, then reappeared swimming clumsily back toward the RiverClan side, his ears flat against his head. The three ThunderClan warriors stood crowded together on one stone, digging in their claws and growling fiercely at the remaining pursuers.

“You’ll come no farther if you want to stay alive,” snarled Sandstorm.

The ShadowClan warriors milled about uncertainly on the first two or three stones. Unused to the river, they were unsteady on their paws and clearly unwilling to join battle with the furious ThunderClan cats.

“Get back!” Blackfoot yowled as he clambered onto the bank, his fur streaming. “Let them escape; they’re only half-Clan crowfood.” There was a strange tone in his voice, as though he didn’t believe the words he was saying.

His warriors didn’t notice, seeming happy to obey, and within moments all the ShadowClan cats had vanished into the reeds.

Firestar concentrated on helping the two apprentices finish crossing, while Mosslight eased Stonefur across the stones. Graystripe and Ravenpaw followed closely behind. Checking his cats for wounds, Firestar saw that Graystripe had lost a clump of fur from one shoulder, Sorreltail had a scratch on her muzzle, and Ravenpaw’s left ear was bleeding, but otherwise they seemed unhurt.

“Well done, all of you,” he meowed, turning to the other ThunderClan warriors. “I was never so glad to see any cats as when you three came out of the forest. What brought you here?”

“You did,” Cloudtail panted. “You ordered extra patrols to watch the border. Lucky for you that we came along when we did.”

Firestar felt his legs go weak with relief. StarClan had sent the patrol at just the right moment. “Okay,” he meowed, “we’d better get back to camp. These cats need to rest. Ravenpaw, you’d better come too and let Cinderpelt look at that ear.”

Firestar stayed at the rear in case the ShadowClan warriors decided to cross the river after all, but behind them every thing was quiet. After a few moments, Sandstorm dropped back to join him.

“Poppyfrost said I’d want to be here. What happened?” she asked. “What are these RiverClan cats doing here?”

Firestar paused to give her ear a quick lick. “They were prisoners,” he explained. “If we’d left them there, Tigerstar would have killed them.”

Sandstorm turned her green gaze on him, horrified. “Why?”

“Because their parents came from different Clans,” Firestar explained. “Tigerstar says half-Clan cats aren’t fit to live in any Clan.”

“But his own kits are half-Clan!” Sandstorm protested.

Firestar shook his head. “No, because Tigerstar was a ThunderClan cat when they were born. At least, that would be his excuse. You don’t think that the great Tigerstar would father anything but pure-blooded kits, do you?”

The shock and disgust in Sandstorm’s eyes deepened, then turned to sympathy as she looked at the RiverClan cats. “Poor things,” she murmured. “Will you let them stay in ThunderClan?”

Firestar nodded. “What else can we do?”

The moon was high and bathing the ravine in a silvery light by the time that Firestar and the others reached the camp. Firestar could hardly believe that everything could be so peaceful here, only a short distance from the bloodstained clearing of the Bonehill and all the violence unleashed by Tigerstar’s ambition.

But as he emerged from the gorse tunnel into the camp, the illusion of peace was shattered. Whitestorm came hurrying toward him with Lightfrost at his heels. The younger warrior looked distraught.

“Thank StarClan you’re back, Firestar!” he exclaimed. “It’s Tawnypaw — she’s disappeared!”

Chapter Text

“Disappeared? ” Firestar echoed in alarm. “What happened?”

“We’re not sure.” Whitestorm was calmer than Lightfrost, but his eyes gave away his concern. “It was Bramblepaw who first said he couldn’t find her. I thought he was making a fuss about nothing, but we searched the camp. She isn’t here, and no cat saw her leave.”

“It’s my fault!” Lightfrost broke in. “I’m her mentor.”

“It’s not your fault,” Whitestorm assured him. “I sent you on hunting patrol. No cat expects you to be in two places at once.”

Lightfrost shook his head despairingly, and Firestar guessed he was think about the other family he’d lost in the past few seasons.

“Fetch Bramblepaw,” Firestar ordered; Thornclaw bounded off at once to the apprentices’ den.

While he waited, Firestar sent Ravenpaw and the five RiverClan cats to see Cinderpelt; Graystripe went with them to explain what had happened, and to assure himself that his kits would be all right. Though the gray warrior was cold and drenched from the icy river, all his concern was for his kits, and as they crossed the clearing he stuck close to their side like a bulky shadow.

“I don’t know what to think,” meowed Whitestorm when they had gone. “Maybe Tawnypaw got some idea into her head and went off by herself. She could be trapped or injured somewhere — ”

“Or she could be in ShadowClan,” Lightfrost interrupted, his fur bristling. “Tigerstar could have stolen her!”

“But Tigerstar was over in RiverClan territory,” Firestar told them quietly. “So were Stripestalk, Blackfoot, and Darkstripe.” He saw Whitestorm’s ears twitch in surprise, and he knew he would have to explain every thing to his deputy as soon as possible.

“He could have sent some other cat to do his dirty work,” Cloudtail put in.

“Have you scented ShadowClan cats around the camp?” Firestar asked Whitestorm. “Or RiverClan?”

The white warrior shook his head. “No cats but our own, Firestar.”

“Then it sounds as if she left willingly,” Firestar meowed. “Perhaps she just felt like hunting by herself for a change.” But he couldn’t help remembering the incident before he left the camp, when Tawnypaw had been furious with Smallear for comparing her with her father. Firestar wondered if he had misjudged how hurt she had felt.

He broke off his thoughts as Bramblepaw came up. “Tell me what Tawnypaw did before she disappeared,” Firestar ordered.

“Just the usual apprentice chores.” Bramblepaw sounded anxious; his amber eyes were wide and confused. “We changed the elders’ bedding and brought them fresh-kill, and I went to get some mouse bile from Cinderpelt to put on a tick in Smallear’s fur. When I came back, Tawnypaw had gone, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Where have you looked so far?”

“I went back to where we got the moss for the bedding, but she wasn’t there,” his apprentice replied. “And I checked the training hollow.”

Firestar nodded. “Did you ask the elders if she said anything to them?”

“I did,” replied Whitestorm, “but they couldn’t remember anything out of the ordinary.”

“And what about Goldenflower?” Firestar went on. “Did Tawnypaw say anything to her?”

Whitestorm shook his head. “She was frantic. I sent her with Mousefur to search toward Tallpines. They aren’t back yet.”

“Did you try to track Tawnypaw?” Firestar asked.

“Yes, of course,” Lightfrost replied. “We tracked her to the top of the ravine, but after that we lost the scent.”

Firestar hesitated. More than anything he wanted to believe that there was an easy explanation for Tawnypaw’s absence. StarClan forbid he should wish a young cat to be lying injured somewhere, but even that would be preferable to his worst fears, that Tawnypaw had gone willingly to join her father.

“I’ll try again,” he decided. “It’s probably too late, but — ”

“I’ll come with you,” Cloudtail offered.

Firestar gave him a nod of gratitude; Cloudtail was one of the best trackers in the Clan. “Okay,” he meowed. “Swiftblade, Thorclaw, you come too.”

“Wait.” Dovewing’s voice was soft, but firm. “You don’t need to go out looking for her.”

Surprised, Firestar asked, “Why not?”

She sighed. “I can find her right now.”

“Are you sure?” Sandstorm meowed. “If you do…every cat will know about–”

Dovewing growled. “I’ve never wanted to hide in the first place. Now is the time for me to use my powers to keep you all from going on a pointless search in an impending storm.”

“Okay.” Firestar dipped his head in acceptance.

Staring in the direction of the gorse tunnel, Dovewing narrowed her eyes. She didn’t seem to be doing anything unusual, but after a moment, she sighed again and announced, “Tawnypaw has gone to ShadowClan.”

“Are you sure?” Lightfrost demanded.

Dovewing nodded. “It wasn’t surprising. Tawnypaw leaving ThunderClan to escape the bias and blame is a well-known fact in our time. And it doesn’t matter to us because she is still a brave and loyal warrior.”

Firestar groaned. “Fantastic. I can’t wait to tell Goldenflower.”

“Well?” Goldenflower asked as Firestar came up to her. “What did you find out?”

Taking a deep breath, Firestar braced himself before replying. “Tawnypaw has gone to ShadowClan.”

“You’re not serious!” Goldenflower protested. “Tawnypaw would never do that!”

“But she has,” Firestar meowed softly. “She made her decision.”

“You don’t care, do you?” Goldenflower’s meow rose, high-pitched with anger. “You think she left deliberately! You never trusted her!”

Firestar struggled to answer, despite knowing that her accusation wasn’t true. He’d accepted both Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw a long time ago. But Goldenflower did not wait. Instead, she spun around and disappeared beneath the branches of the warriors’ den.

“Wait!” Firestar called, but she ignored him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Sandstorm meowed sympathetically. “I’ll go and calm her down.” She slipped into the den behind Goldenflower.

Tired and discouraged, Firestar turned to Bramblepaw, expecting a similar accusation from him. But his apprentice was standing quietly, and the look in his amber eyes was unreadable.

“It’s okay, Firestar,” he meowed. “I know you did all you could. Thank you.” Head down and tail drooping but tense, he made his way back to the apprentices’ den.

Firestar watched him go. Exhaustion flooded over him; it seemed like several moons since Graystripe had first suggested going to RiverClan to see his kits.

Then he remembered something and followed his apprentice. “Bramblepaw,” he called quietly.

The young tabby turned towards him. “Yes?”

“Before I went to RiverClan, Tawnypaw mentioned something about doing something to prove that she wasn’t Tigerstar. Are you sure she didn’t say anything to you about that?”

Bramblepaw hesitated. “Well…I…”

Gently, Firestar rested his tail on Bramblepaw’s shoulder. “Whatever it is, I won’t be angry. But after what happened today, it could be very dangerous for your sister in ShadowClan.”

Reluctantly, Bramblepaw began to speak. “A couple days ago, after a training session, Tawnypaw and I were talking with Hollypaw and Honeypaw, and they mentioned something about how Tawnypaw joined ShadowClan in the original timeline.”

“Of course they did,” Firestar sighed. “What else did they say?”

“Well, Honeypaw suggested that if Tawnypaw felt she couldn’t stay in ThunderClan this time too, she could always go to ShadowClan to act as a spy, just like Stripestalk. He said that Tigerstar would be delighted to have one of his kits choose to join him.”

“Under normal circumstances, he would be,” Firestar agreed. “But after today, he might be especially paranoid. Tawnypaw could still be in danger.”

Bramblepaw frowned. “We didn’t know anything drastic like that would happen,” he mewed. “But I went with her to Fourtrees, just in case, and we were met by a older ShadowClan warrior named Brightflower, and an apprentice named Rowanpaw. Both of them promised to protect her.”

Firestar nodded. “It was wise of you to go with her and make sure she’d be safe,” he told his apprentice.

“I’m still not sure she will be,” Bramblepaw admitted. “But I couldn’t go to ShadowClan, couldn’t go to our father, not even as a spy. I’m not like Stripestalk or Tawnypaw; I look just like that mangepelt, and I–I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t want the Clan to have any reason to doubt my loyalty.”

“If they do,” Firestar meowed, “I’ll defend and support you. I know you’re one of us, no matter what anyone else tries to say.”

“Thank you, Firestar,” Bramblepaw yawned.

Firestar laughed. “It’s been a long day. You can have tomorrow off from your duties. Go get some rest.”

Yawning again, Bramblepaw disappeared into his den.

A chilly gray dawn was beginning to seep into the sky, and Firestar desperately needed to rest, but there was one more duty to perform first. He had to visit Cinderpelt, and make sure the RiverClan cats would recover from their ordeal.

As he padded across the clearing to the medicine cat’s den, Firestar felt all his doubts about his leadership welling up again. One warrior banished, and gone to join his enemy — and willing to kill to prove his new loyalties. One apprentice vanished, desperate to prove her loyalty by spying. And the whole forest caught up in terror and hatred that Firestar saw no way to combat. The vision of himself wearing the mane of LionClan that he had seen in the stream seemed a long way away. If StarClan really had destined him for greatness, Firestar couldn’t help wondering if they had chosen the wrong cat.

*  *  *  *  *

Standing on the Highrock, Firestar watched as his Clan emerged from their dens. It was the morning after his expedition to RiverClan territory, and he had called a meeting to tell his warriors exactly what had happened, and to explain the presence of the three RiverClan cats.

Mistyfoot and the two apprentices were sitting at the base of the Highrock with Graystripe and Cinderpelt. Mosslight and Stonefur were beside Whitestorm, and the she-cat was looking at the ThunderClan deputy with a deep fondness. Clearly they’d been close before she’d gone to RiverClan. Firestar was pleased to see that they already looked stronger, and their injuries had already begun to heal, as if their energy was coming back after a good meal and with Cinderpelt’s care.

Ravenpaw had left at dawn, his injured ear swathed in cobweb and a gleam in his eyes as he recalled the battle on the stepping-stones.

“Amazing how my old training came back to me,” he meowed to Firestar. “I hadn’t forgotten the Fighting moves.”

“You did brilliantly,” Firestar purred. “This is the second time you’ve fought beside us. You’re a real friend to ThunderClan.”

“Now that Tigerstar is rising to power, I think ThunderClan needs all the friends it can get,” the loner mewed seriously.

Ravenpaw had spent a few moments by Bluestar’s grave and then set out for the farm near Highstones. Firestar wondered if he would need to call on Ravenpaw for help again. Tigerstar’s enemies would have to unite to drive him out of the forest — yet Firestar knew that the final confrontation must be his alone.

He waited until all the Clan cats had settled themselves around the Highrock, and then began to speak.

“You’ve all heard by now that Graystripe, Ravenpaw, Sorreltail and I went over to RiverClan territory last night.” He described the Bonehill and the rotting prey strewn around the clearing, and how Tigerstar had whipped up the hatred of his warriors against half-Clans — cats whose parents came from two different Clans. Firestar’s voice shook as he described the fight between Stonefur and Darkstripe, and how the RiverClan warrior had beaten the ThunderClan traitor just before the TigerClan cats began to fight each other. The cats below him shuddered and flattened themselves against the ground in sympathy and terror.

Sorreltail was grinning. “I’m so glad I got to see Stonefur beat Darkstripe. I only heard about it before, but now…”

Dustpelt growled, “Why aren’t we attacking ShadowClan right now, then, for revenge? And what if Stripestalk–and Tawnypaw–ends up in danger because of this?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that,” Firestar replied. “ThunderClan doesn’t know who to trust right now.”

“We can have a good try at them anyways,” retorted Cloudtail, springing to his paws.

“But where would we attack?” asked Firestar. “There’ll be warriors from both Clans in the RiverClan camp, and I don’t expect TigerStar has left the ShadowClan camp unguarded.

“I feel just the same as you,” he went on. “I don’t like what Tigerstar is doing, and I’m afraid of what he might do in the future. I’d like to know what StarClan want us to do, but so far I’ve had no word from them. Cinderpelt, Jayfeather, have they spoken to you?”

The crippled medicine cat glanced up at him. “No, not yet.”

Jayfeather rolled his eyes. “Believe me, they’re not sitting quietly right now. Tigerstar’s got to deal with what happened and reestablish control.”

With an angry flick of his ears, Cloudtail sat down again, and Brightheart rubbed against his shoulder to calm him down.

In the brief pause, Firestar wondered if it was true to say that he had received no message from StarClan. There had been the vision of himself in the stream, wearing the glory of LionClan. He thought again of Bluestar’s prophecy: Four will become two; lion and tiger will join in battle.

Suddenly understanding dawned on Firestar like a ray of sunlight striking through branches. Four Clans would become two; did that mean ThunderClan must join with WindClan?

“We’re still here, Firestar!” Dustpelt’s voice disturbed his thoughts.

Firestar started. “Sorry,” he meowed. “I’ve called you here to welcome the RiverClan cats we rescued. You all know Mosslight, Stonefur, and Mistyfoot, and Featherpaw and Stormpaw, Graystripe’s kits. I think we should offer them a place in ThunderClan until it’s safe for them to go home.”

Murmuring broke out around the clearing as he made the suggestion. Most cats agreed with him, Firestar could see, but a few others were looking uncertain.

Longtail was the first to voice his doubts. “That’s all very well, Firestar, and I’m sorry for what they’ve been through, but if they stay here, what are they going to eat? It’s the middle of leaf-bare. We’ve got our work cut out feeding ourselves.”

“I’ll hunt for them!” Graystripe sprang up to face the Clan. “I can feed all three of them, and more of the Clan as well.”

“We’re not helpless, you know,” added Mistyfoot. “Stonefur and the apprentices will heal in a day or two, and Mosslight and I will hunt for ourselves and you as well.”

“We won’t be a burden on you,” Mosslight meowed.

Mousefur got up and spoke directly to Firestar. “It’s not a question of who’s going to hunt. This is a harder leaf-bare than usual, after the fire. We’re all hungry, and we’ll need all the strength we can get if we’re going to have to fight this TigerClan. I say they should go home.”

Sandstorm leaped to her paws before Firestar could speak.” They can’t go home,” she pointed out. “Weren’t you listening? They’ll be murdered if they do, like how Darkstripe tried kill Stonefur.”

“Do you want it to be known that ThunderClan sent cats to their death?” Brackenfur added.

Mousefur looked down at her paws, anger making her fur bristle.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Whitestorm meowed calmly, “that all these cats are half ThunderClan. As well as Bluestar’s kin, they are mine. They have a right to ask us for shelter.”

Bluestar and Whitestorm are kin?

From his vantage point on top of the Highrock, Firestar saw a ripple of shock pass through his cats as they turned to look at Mistyfoot, standing like a living shadow of their former leader. Remembering the hostility some of them had shown when Mistyfoot, Mosslight, and Stonefur had shared tongues with the dead Bluestar, Firestar realized that Whitestorm was taking quite a risk in reminding them.

But this time there was no hostility. Even Mousefur and Longtail stayed silent. The story of what had happened beside the Bonehill had swung the sympathy of the Clan over to the RiverClan cats. The warriors relaxed, their shock subsiding, and there were a few murmurs of agreement with what Whitestorm had said.

Firestar looked down at the RiverClan cats where they sat at the base of the rock with Graystripe and Cinderpelt.

“Welcome to ThunderClan,” he meowed.

Mistyfoot bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Firestar. We won’t forget this.”

Mosslight smiled. “You have the same honor and compassion our mother did.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Firestar meowed. “I just hope you’ll all feel completely better soon.”

“They’ll be fine, Firestar,” meowed Cinderpelt. “All they need is good food and a warm place to sleep.”

“At least there was bedding in that hole,” Featherpaw fretted, her eyes wide and troubled. “Stripestalk went out of her way to make things better for us.”

“You don’t need to think about that anymore,” Mistyfoot promised with a comforting lick. “Just concentrate on getting strong again. As soon as you’re fit, we’ll have to get on with your training.”

Firestar remembered that Mistyfoot was Featherpaw’s mentor. He was wondering about the difficulties of training an apprentice in unfamiliar territory, when Graystripe broke in on his thoughts.

“I know Stonefur is Stormpaw’s mentor, but perhaps I could help them out a bit, since they don’t know ThunderClan territory?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Firestar admitted. “And I could ask Sandstorm to help Mistyfoot and Featherpaw.”

Firestar brought the meeting to an end and descended from the High Rock. Glancing around, he spotted Sandstorm not far away, with the kits, who were too young to attend the meeting, playing nearby. “Sandstorm, I want to ask you a favor.”

The ginger she-cat looked up at him. “What is it?”

“It’s about Mistyfoot. She’ll have trouble mentoring Featherpaw properly here. She doesn’t know where the training places are, or the dangers, or the best places for prey.”

Firestar hesitated, not sure if what he was about to suggest was a good idea. After all, Sandstorm was still nursing the kits. He didn’t understand enough about weaning kits to know if it was safe for her to leave them.

“Go on,” mewed Sandstorm.

“I. . .I wanted to ask you if you’d help Mistyfoot with Featherpaw’s training. I can’t think of any cat who would be better.”

Sandstorm gave him a long, measured look. “You think you can get around me with a bit of flattery, do you?”

“I don’t—”

Sandstorm let out a purr of laughter. “Well, maybe you can. Of course I’ll help her, you stupid furball. The kits are old enough to start eating some softer solid prey, and several of our Clanmates are happy to watch them for me. I’ll have a word with Mistyfoot now.”

Relief washed over Firestar. “Thank you, Sandstorm.”

A loud wailing interrupted him. The cats still in the clearing were staring at the entrance from the gorse tunnel. Firestar could not see what had alarmed them, but he caught the tang of unfamiliar cat scent.

Thrusting his way through his warriors, Firestar reached the entrance. Limping out of the tunnel was a cat that was panting heavily.

Then Firestar made out the gray-and-white pelt under the dirt and managed to distinguish the scent of WindClan. The newcomer was Furzepelt, panting heavily from exhaustion.

“Furzepelt!” Firestar exclaimed. “What happened?”

 Furzepelt staggered toward him. “You’ve got to help us, Firestar!” she rasped. “TigerClan is going to attack our camp!”