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The young she-cat dipped her head and hurried off.
“Once we get there, the other apprentices will be needed to fight,” Firestar went on. “But Fernpaw can stay with you. Find somewhere well out of the way. I think there’s a sheltered hollow on the other side of the stream—”
Cinderpelt bristled. “Firestar, you don’t mean that? What use will I be if I’m not where the fighting is?”
“But the cats need you,” Firestar insisted. “If you’re injured, what happens to the rest of us?”
“Fernpaw and I can take care of ourselves. We’re not helpless kits, you know.” Cinderpelt’s tart response reminded Firestar of her mentor, Yellowfang.
Sighing, he padded up to the medicine cat and touched noses with her. “Have it your own way,” he meowed. “I know I can’t say anything to change your mind. But please…be careful.”
Cinderpelt let out a soft purr. “Don’t worry, Firestar. We’ll be fine.”
“Have StarClan spoken to you about the battle?” Firestar forced himself to ask.
“No, I’ve seen no omens at all.” The medicine cat raised her eyes to Silverpelt, where it was fading in the predawn sky. “It’s not like StarClan to be silent when something so important is going to happen.”
“I…I had a dream from them, Cinderpelt,” Firestar told her hesitantly, “but I’m not sure I understand it, and there isn’t time to tell you all of it now. I just hope it means something good for us.”
There was curiosity in Cinderpelt’s blue eyes as he spoke of his dream at Sunningrocks, but she did not question him.
Firestar returned through the fern tunnel and crossed the clearing to the elders’ den. On the way he passed Brackenfur on watch, and waved a greeting with his tail.
When he reached the fallen tree, charred by the fire that had swept through the camp last greenleaf, Firestar found all the elders still sleeping except for Speckletail, who sat with her tail curled around her paws.
The she-cat rose to her paws as Firestar came toward her. “Is it time?”
“Yes,” Firestar replied. “We’ll be leaving soon…but you’re not coming with us, Speckletail.”
“What?” The fur on Speckletail’s shoulders stiffened with annoyance. “Why not? We may be elders, but we’re not useless. Do you really think we’re going to sit back and—”
“Speckletail, listen. This is important. If you’re honest, you know that Smallear and One-eye would barely make it to Fourtrees, never mind fight when they got there. And Dappletail’s getting very frail. I can’t lead them into battle against Scourge.”
“And what about me?”
“I know you’re a fighter, Speckletail.” Firestar had thought carefully about what he was going to say, but with the elder glaring at him he felt like a raw apprentice again. “That’s why I need you here. There’ll be the other three elders here, and Willowpelt’s kits. They’ve learned some defensive moves but they’re not ready for battle. I’m putting you in charge of the camp while the rest of us are away.”
“But I—Oh.” Speckletail broke off as she understood what Firestar was asking her to do. Slowly the fur on her shoulders lay flat again. “I see. All right, Firestar. You can count on me.”
“Thank you.” Firestar blinked his gratitude at her. “If the battle goes badly, we’ll try to fall back here and reinforce you, but we might not make it. If BloodClan comes here, you’ll be all that’s left of ThunderClan.” His eyes met Speckletail’s. “You’ll need to get the kits and elders away. Try to cross the river, then head for Barley’s farm.”
“Right.” Speckletail gave him a brisk nod. “I’ll do the best I can.” Turning, she looked over to where Brightheart slept in the shelter of the tree trunk. “What about her?”
“Brightheart is as strong as any warrior now,” Fireheart meowed, his heart lifting. “She’s coming with us.” He padded over and nudged the young she-cat with one paw. “Wake up, Brightheart. It’s time to go.”
Brightheart blinked up at him with her good eye, then rose and stretched. “Okay, Firestar. I’m ready.”
She was heading out into the clearing when Firestar called her back. “Brightheart, if we come through this, you’ll be sleeping in the warriors’ den from now on.”
Brightheart’s ears pricked and she seemed to stand taller. “Thank you, Firestar!” she meowed, and dashed off, all her drowsiness vanished.
Dipping his head in farewell to Speckletail, Firestar followed Brightheart into the clearing. By now the other cats had begun to emerge from their dens. The apprentices, Featherpaw and Stormpaw among them, were cluster e d around Cinderpelt, each carrying a bundle of herbs. Dustpelt was with them, speaking urgently in a low voice to Fernpaw.
Closer to the warriors’ den, Brightheart had joined Cloudtail, while Mousefur and Longtail stalked around each other in a final practice of their fighting moves. As Firestar watched, Graystripe and Sandstorm slipped out from between the branches of the den with Thornclaw and Mistyfoot just behind. Whitestorm came up and urged the cats toward the nettle patch for a piece of fresh-kill.
Firestar felt a rush of pride. These were his cats, brave and loyal, every one of them.
Above him, the outlines of bare branches had begun to show black against the sky. Firestar felt a moment of sheer terror at the reminder of the approaching sunrise. He forced himself to stride confidently across the clearing until he joined Whitestorm beside the fresh-kill pile.
“This is it,” the white warrior meowed.
Firestar took a vole from the pile of fresh-kill. His belly was churning with tension, but he forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls.
“Firestar,” Whitestorm continued after a moment, “I just wanted to say that Bluestar could not have led us better in these terrible days. I’ve been proud to serve as your deputy.”
Firestar stared at him. “Whitestorm, you’re talking as if…” He couldn’t put what he was afraid of into words. The older warrior’s respect meant more to him than he could say, and he couldn’t imagine how he would cope if Whitestorm did not come back from the battle.
Whitestorm concentrated on the blackbird he was eating, avoiding his eyes, and didn’t say any more.
The camp was still dark when Speckletail emerged with the other elders to see the warriors off. Willowpelt’s kits rushed out of the nursery to say good-bye to their mother and Sandstorm. They looked excited; they didn’t fully understand what the Clan was going to face.
“Well, Firestar,” Cloudtail meowed. “Is everything ready?” The tip of his tail twitched nervously as he admitted, “I’ll be a lot happier when we’re on the move.”
Firestar swallowed the last of his vole. “So will I, Cloudtail,” he replied. “Let’s go.”
Rising to his paws, he gathered his Clan with a flick of his tail. As his gaze met Sandstorm’s, he felt strengthened to see her green eyes glow with trust and love.
“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar called, “we go now to fight against BloodClan. But we’re not alone. Remember there are four Clans in the forest, and always will be, and the other three will fight with us today. We will drive out these evil cats!”
His warriors sprang up, yowling their agreement. Firestar turned, and began to lead them through the gorse tunnel and up the ravine toward Fourtrees.
When he paused at the top for a last glance back at the camp, he did not know if he would ever see his beloved home again.
CHAPTER 28
The first faint streaks of dawn were showing as Firestar approached Fourtrees. Pausing on the bank of the stream, he glanced back at the warriors who followed him. His heart swelled with pride as his gaz
e traveled over each one. Sandstorm, his beloved; Graystripe, the truest friend any cat ever had; Brackenfur, sensible and loyal; Whitestorm, his wise deputy; Thornclaw, the newest warrior of ThunderClan, looking tense and eager at the prospect of his first battle; Longtail, who had discovered at last where his heart lay; Frostfur and Mousefur, a formidable pair of she-cats; Dustpelt, reserved but true-hearted, and his apprentice, Ashpaw; Firestar’s own apprentice, Bramblepaw, a glow in his amber eyes and his fur bristling; and Cloudtail, wayward but committed to his C l an, with Brightheart, the cat he had brought back from the brink of death. Pain like claws tore at Firestar’s heart as he realized how much they meant to him, and what fearful danger they were facing now.
He raised his voice so that they could all hear him. “You know what lies ahead of us,” he meowed. “I only want to say one thing. Ever since StarClan placed the four Clans in the forest, no leader ever had a band of warriors like you. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that.”
“There was never a leader like you, Firestar,” meowed Graystripe.
Firestar shook his head, his throat too choked for words. It was just like Graystripe to compare him to the truly great leaders like Bluestar, but he knew how far short of that he fell. He could only resolve to do his best to live up to his friends’ trust in him.
Crossing the stream, he heard a whisper of movement from the direction of the river and glanced down the slope to see the cats of RiverClan and ShadowClan slipping quietly toward the meeting place. Firestar signaled a greeting with his tail as the warriors thronged around him, swelling the ranks of his own forces.
