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 Lostface. 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 a look at Firestar from n arrowed amber eyes, and Fireheart wondered if he saw hostility there.
He pushed the problem of Bramblepaw to the back of his mind as he looked out over the assembled cats. 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, 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 3
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.