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He saw a similar glow in Morningflower’s eyes, and realized that at last she felt avenged for the death of Gorsepaw.
Taking a deep breath, Firestar dipped his head toward Tallstar and meowed, “We have no further need for LionClan. There are four Clans in the forest again.”
He could see that the older leader understood what he was saying. They were no longer allies, but rivals, who could meet in friendship only at Gatherings.
“We owe you our freedom,” meowed the WindClan leader. He dipped his head and headed toward the rest of his warriors at the far side of the clearing.
Alone for the first time, Firestar scrambled up to the top of the Great Rock. The sickening stench of blood rose around him, but up here he could look out over the forest and dare to believe that soon the battle would be no more than a distant memory.
He imagined the spirits of StarClan all around him, sharing the leadership of his Clan. They would be beside him every pawstep until he gave up his last life and went to join them.
“Thank you, StarClan,” he murmured. “Thank you for staying with us, fifth Clan of the forest. How could I ever have thought that I faced this battle alone?”
Suddenly he smelled a familiar scent and felt the soft touch of Spottedleaf’s pelt brushing against his fur. Her breath was warm in his ear. “You are never alone, Firestar. Your Clan will live on, and I will watch over you forever.”
For a moment Firestar felt all the pain of loss afresh, as if his beloved medicine cat had not died many moons ago, but in this very battle. Then his ears pricked at the sound of claws on rock, and as Spottedleaf’s scent faded, Firestar saw Graystripe and Sandstorm climbing toward him, with Bramblepaw scrambling up behind.
Sandstorm pressed her flank to Firestar’s. “Bluestar was right. Fire did save the Clan.”
“And now there are four Clans again,” Graystripe added. “Just as there should be.”
No, there are five, Firestar thought. He looked down over the clearing and the trees that stretched as far as he could see, and his senses filled with the sounds and the scents of his forest home. A thousand secret whispers told him that newleaf was stirring in the cold earth, shooting up new green fronds and rousing the prey from its long leaf-bare sleep.
The rising sun broke over the trees and flooded the clearing with light and warmth, and it seemed to Firestar that no dawn had ever been brighter.
