The Darkest Hour полностью

Firestar gave her ear a quick lick and led the way across the clearing. Even though the curtain of lichen over the entrance to the den had still not grown back after the fire, the den lay in deep shadow.

More by scent than sight Firestar realized that one of the apprentices had left fresh-kill for him, and he remembered how hungry he was. The prey was a rabbit; he and Sandstorm crouched side by side to share it, swallowing with quick, famished gulps.

“I needed that,” Sandstorm purred, extending her front paws and arching her back in a long, luxurious stretch. Then she yawned. “I could sleep for a moon.”

Firestar arranged his mossy bedding to make a sleeping place for her, and she curled up and closed her eyes. “Good night, Firestar,” she murmured.

Firestar touched his nose to her fur. “Good night.”

Soon her soft, regular breathing told him she was asleep. For all his weariness, Firestar did not feel ready to curl up beside her. Instead he sat watching while the moon rose and spilled pale light through the entrance to the den, touching Sandstorm’s fur to silver. She was so beautiful, Firestar thought, so precious to him. And yet she too might die tomorrow.

This is what it means to be a leader, he realized. He did not know if he could endure the pain of it, even though he knew that when dawn came, he would take up the burden StarClan had laid on him.

Please, StarClan, help me to bear it well, he thought as he settled himself into the moss beside Sandstorm. He took comfort from the warmth of her fur as he let sleep claim him at last.

Firestar woke to see the den floor washed by the pale light of sunrise. Beside him, Sandstorm still slept, the moss stirred by her breathing. Careful not to wake her, Firestar rose, stretched, and padded out into the chilly morning.

The clearing was deserted, but almost at once Whitestorm appeared from the warriors’ den.

“I’ve sent out the dawn patrol,” he reported. “Brackenfur, Mousefur, and Graystripe. I told them to do a quick sweep up the ShadowClan border and report back to us.”

“Good,” mewed Firestar. “It would be just like Tigerstar to arrange a meeting at Fourtrees and then mount a raid somewhere else. That’s why I’m leaving you in charge of the camp, with as many warriors as I can spare.”

“Take all the strength you need,” Whitestorm meowed. “We’ll be fine. Young Brightheart is shaping up to be a really useful fighter ever since she started training with Cloudtail. And the elders can still raise a few claws, if they’re pushed.”

“They’ll be pushed, before all this is over,” Firestar predicted. “Thanks, Whitestorm. I know I can rely on you.”

The white warrior nodded and disappeared into the den again. Firestar watched him go, then padded across the clearing to the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt’s den.

When he reached the medicine cat’s den, he could hear her voice coming from the cleft in the rock.

“Juniper berries, marigold leaves, poppy seeds…”

Looking inside, Firestar saw the small gray she-cat checking the heaps of healing herbs and berries ranged alongside the wall of the den.

“Hi, Cinderpelt,” he mewed. “Everything in order?”

The medicine cat turned to him with a grave look in her blue eyes. “As much as it’ll ever be.”

“You think there will definitely be a battle?” Firestar asked her. “Have StarClan spoken to you?”

Cinderpelt came to join him at the mouth of the den. “No, not a word,” she replied. “But common sense says there’ll be a battle, Firestar. I don’t need an omen from StarClan to tell me that.”

She was right, Firestar knew, and yet her words chilled him. With such a momentous meeting ahead, why had there been no sign from StarClan? Had their warrior ancestors abandoned them in their time of greatest need? Too late, Firestar wondered if he should have traveled to Highstones to share tongues with StarClan.

“Do you know why StarClan are silent?” he asked Cinderpelt out loud.

The medicine cat shook her head. “But I do know something,” she meowed, as if she had read his thoughts. “StarClan haven’t forgotten us. They decreed long ago that there should be four Clans in the forest, and they won’t stand by and let Tigerstar change that forever.”

As Firestar thanked her and turned away to muster his warriors, he wished he shared her faith.

A stiff breeze was blowing as Firestar led his warriors up the slope to Fourtrees, rippling the grass and carrying the scent of many cats. Each gust brought a sting of rain from the gray clouds that pushed each other across the sky.

At the top of the slope, Firestar paused, crouching in the shelter of the bushes to look down into the clearing. Almost at once Cloudtail appeared at his side.

“Why are we standing about?” he demanded. “Let’s get on with it.”