by Erin Hunter
“No. But you have to show them that ThunderClan has strong leadership. That there’s nothing to worry about, that we are strong, and that whatever happens the Clan will stick together.”
Firestar narrowed his eyes. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
Brambleclaw swallowed. He knew what he had to say, though the words stuck in his throat like a stubborn piece of fresh-kill. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the place where dreams are born, he seemed to hear Tigerstar screeching at him in uncontrollable rage. But none of that mattered. His loyalty to his Clan had to come first.
“You need to appoint a new deputy.”
Firestar stared at him, and in that searching gaze Brambleclaw could see that Firestar knew exactly what he was asking.
But his leader’s only response was, “Why?”
“Because a united leadership—two loyal cats in charge— would do more than anything else to convince the Clan that we’re strong again in spite of the badger attack. Don’t you know that warriors like Blackstar sneer at us and call us weak?”
The hair on Firestar’s neck and shoulders bristled, and his voice was a soft growl. “Weak? I wish Blackstar dared say that to my face.”
“Weak,” Brambleclaw repeated. He took a deep breath. “The Clan is vulnerable when there’s no deputy, because if other Clans see it as a weakness, they’re more likely to attack us. ShadowClan have already made one attempt to set their scent markers on our territory. It’s dangerous to leave things as they are. Firestar, every cat knows how much you grieve for Greystripe. But you must appoint a new deputy.”
Firestar’s green gaze was fixed on the wall of the den, as if he could see past the stone to some scene Brambleclaw could not begin to guess at. “Do you remember,” he began softly, “how I had to leave the Clan for a while when you were a new warrior? Greystripe promised me then that he would keep the Clan safe. ‘I’ll wait for you,’ he said to me. ‘I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.’ Do you think I shouldn’t do the same for him?”
“No, Firestar.” Brambleclaw felt desperately sad to hear the anguish in Firestar’s voice as he recalled his old friend’s unswerving loyalty. “But if you had died on your quest, even Greystripe would have had to accept it, sooner or later.”
Firestar’s tail lashed once. “Greystripe is not dead! I’ll never give up hope until I have some kind of sign from StarClan telling me he isn’t still alive.”
“StarClan can’t see everywhere.”
Firestar froze as a new voice spoke. Brambleclaw glanced over his shoulder to see Sandstorm standing at the entrance to the den. She was right. In the mountains, the Tribe of Endless Hunting prowled the skies. Those paths were unknown to StarClan. If Greystripe still lived, perhaps he too walked under different skies, and StarClan did not know his fate.
Sandstorm slipped inside the den and went up to Firestar, pressing her muzzle against his. “I know it’s hard,” she meowed. “Greystripe was my friend too. But it might be time to accept that he isn’t coming back.”
Firestar’s gaze rested on her for a moment, then shifted to Brambleclaw. There was a world of hurt and betrayal in his eyes. “How can you both doubt me? Would you be so quick to give up hope for me, too?”
Sandstorm sat beside him, a flick of her tail indicating that Brambleclaw should leave. Brambleclaw dipped his head and backed away. Part of him respected Sandstorm’s wisdom, and hoped she could persuade the cat who was her mate as well as her leader to accept that his closest friend was never coming back. Partly he was filled with frustration that Firestar could be so blind. It was obvious to every other cat that ThunderClan needed a deputy. If Firestar went on refusing to admit that, Brambleclaw thought grimly, he might find himself challenged by more than an unexpected Clan meeting.
Chapter 17
When the meeting was over, Leafpool retreated to her den and busied herself making a poultice of yarrow for Goldenflower, who was complaining of cracked pads. Uneasiness wreathed her like fog. Firestar had never faced a challenge to his leadership like this. What had happened to ThunderClan’s trust in him that had brought them through their long journey to their new home? Had they really forgotten everything Firestar had done for them?
She had other worries, too, suspicions that troubled her even more deeply. She remembered Feathertail’s warning, and how Bluestar had told her in a dream that her path would twist in ways she could not foresee. It can’t be true, she told herself. If it is, what will I do?
Pushing the troubling thoughts firmly out of her mind, Leafpool scooped up the poultice on a leaf, ready to take to the elders’ den. Suddenly she heard paw steps just beyond the bramble screen. Expecting a sick or injured cat, she popped her head out of her den and found herself face-to-face with her father.
“Firestar!” she exclaimed. “Are you sick?” He looked ill, his green eyes dull and his tail drooping.
Firestar shook his head. “I’m fine,” he mewed unconvincingly. “Your mother said I should come and talk to you. I need a medicine cat’s advice.”
Leafpool motioned to him to sit in the bracken outside the entrance to her den. It was warm here in the sun, but they were hidden from the rest of the camp by the screen of brambles. Sitting beside him, she curled her tail neatly over her paws and murmured, “I’m here if you need me. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Firestar heaved a sigh. “Brambleclaw spoke to me. He thinks Greystripe is dead, and I should appoint a new deputy. Sandstorm agrees with him. Do you think they’re right?”
Leafpool’s pelt prickled. However much she tried to ignore her personal feelings, she still found it hard to trust Brambleclaw after she had seen him in the dark forest with Hawkfrost and Tigerstar. But how could she tell that to Firestar? What could Firestar do about it, when in the waking world Brambleclaw was a loyal and energetic Thunder Clan warrior? Besides, what true medicine cat would walk beyond StarClan? How could it be part of her duties to pass on what she had seen in the forest of shadows?
She wondered whether Brambleclaw had brought this up because he hoped Firestar would choose him as the new deputy. She had seen ambition gleaming in his amber eyes, and she knew he wanted power. But she reminded herself that Brambleclaw couldn’t be made deputy because he had never had an apprentice. He must have put his own ambition aside for the good of the Clan; perhaps she was being unfair when she looked for the darkness in him.
Firestar was waiting for an answer, his green gaze fixed patiently on her. “Is there no hope for Greystripe?” he prompted. “Hasn’t StarClan shown you any sort of sign about him?”
Leafpool shook her head. But she knew she trusted her own inner voice this time. “I think you should accept that Greystripe is gone,” she told her father, her voice shaking as she saw the pain in his eyes.
“We’ve lost so many cats,” he murmured. “Greystripe and Cinderpelt were my closest friends.”
“The whole Clan will grieve for him,” Leafpool told him. “Stormfur, too.”
As if her words had called him up, she caught a glimpse of the grey warrior padding across the clearing with Brook and Squirrelflight, bringing prey for the fresh-kill pile.
“Wait here,” she told her father, and bounded out to meet him.
She caught up to Stormfur as he deposited his fresh-kill on the pile. “I want you to come and talk to Firestar,” she meowed. “I think he needs you. He . . . he is trying to decide whether he should appoint a new deputy or keep waiting for Greystripe to come back.”
Stormfur hesitated, confusion clouding his eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. “Will you be OK?” he asked Brook.
The Tribe cat nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“Sure she will,” Squirrelflight added. “We’ll go to the clearing and practise some fighting moves.”
Stormfur waited until the two she-cats were heading out of camp again, then fell in beside Leafpool as she padded back to her den. Firestar was still sitting in the bracken, his eyes unfocused.
; “Greystripe was the first Clan cat I ever met,” he meowed absently. “He jumped on me when I strayed out of my house-folk’s garden. I’d heard tales of the wild cats that lived in the forest, but I’d never seen one. No cat ever had a better friend.”
“Or a better father.” With a glance at Leafpool to show he understood exactly what was going on, Stormfur went to sit beside Firestar. “If he were still alive, not even StarClan could stop him from coming to find us.”
“Not if Twolegs have kept him shut up somewhere,” Firestar argued. “I won’t believe that I’ll never see him again.”
Stormfur rested the tip of his tail on Firestar’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard. I want Greystripe to be alive as much as any cat, but life has to go on.”
For a long moment Firestar was silent. Then he turned his head to look directly at Stormfur. “Do you think I should appoint another deputy?”
Stormfur met his gaze. “You must do whatever you think best,” he began. “But I know one thing. Nothing meant more to Greystripe than your friendship and his Clan. Even when he was in RiverClan, he longed to go home. He would want to see ThunderClan as strong as it could possibly be, even if that meant accepting that he’s not coming back.”
Leafpool thought her heart would break. It was so, so hard to imagine that Greystripe was dead.
Firestar let out a long sigh. “You’re just like him, you know,” he told Stormfur.
Pride glowed in Stormfur’s eyes. “I wish I could believe it. But I’ll never be half the warrior my father was.” Then he twitched his ears and sat straighter, as if dismissing his dark thoughts. “I’m sorry, Firestar,” he meowed. “Brook and I have made things difficult for you. We never intended to stay in ThunderClan forever.”
“I know,” Firestar responded, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I know you have loyalties elsewhere, but until the time is right for you to return to the Tribe, this is your Clan.”
Stormfur bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Firestar rose to his paws. For a heartbeat, he rested his muzzle on Stormfur’s head, as if he were appointing a new warrior. Then he arched his back in a long stretch and padded out into the clearing.
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”
Firestar’s yowl rang out confidently but Leafpool knew how much this must be hurting him. She and Stormfur followed him out past the screen of brambles. The sun was going down, filling the stone hollow with blood-red light. Firestar stood in the centre, his pelt blazing, waiting for his Clan to gather. He had come down from the Highledge to face their challenge; he stayed with them now to share their grief at what he had to say.
Leafpool watched the cats gather from around the clearing. Brambleclaw was first to emerge from the warriors’ den, followed closely by Dustpelt, Cloudtail, and Brightheart. Ashfur got up from the fresh-kill pile and stood at the back. Brackenfur and Ferncloud both appeared from the nursery, while Daisy remained in the entrance with her kits. The two apprentices joined their mentors. The elders padded out of their den beneath the hazel bush; Goldenflower was limping as she guided Longtail, and Leafpool guiltily remembered the poultice she had yet to deliver.
Last of all, Squirrelflight and Brook shot in through the thorn tunnel and raced across to Leafpool and Stormfur.
“We heard Firestar call from the clearing,” Squirrelflight panted. “What’s going on?”
“Listen,” was all Leafpool could reply, too sick at heart to explain.
Firestar waited until the whole Clan was gathered around him. “Cats of ThunderClan,” he began, “the day has come that I never wanted to see. You all know that Greystripe was lost to us when Twolegs trapped him in the old forest. Since then I’ve tried to believe that he was still alive, and that he’d come back to us one day. But now . . .”
His voice faltered, and he stood a moment with his head bowed before going on. Then he straightened up again and his voice was steadier.
“I have to face the fact that ThunderClan can’t go on any longer without a deputy.” He looked up at the darkening sky, where a single warrior of StarClan had appeared, right above the hollow. “Greystripe is dead.”
For a heartbeat the Clan was silent; Leafpool could hear nothing but the faint rustling of the trees. The ThunderClan warriors looked at one another, eyes stunned with grief. Then a soft murmur rose, of compassion and acceptance. Leafpool saw several cats, including Mousefur, nodding with sad approval. They believed Firestar was right. He had their support again, but Leafpool knew what the cost had been to him.
“Tonight we will sit vigil for Greystripe,” Firestar went on. “And before moonhigh I will appoint the new deputy.”
The last of the daylight rippled on the cats’ fur as they moved into the centre of the clearing and crouched down. Leafpool almost felt as if she could see Greystripe’s powerful grey body lying in the midst of them.
“He was my mentor,” Brackenfur meowed. “I learned more from him than from any cat.”
“We trained together,” Dustpelt added. “We fought and hunted together, and StarClan knows we fell out at times, but I always knew I could trust him.”
“He never gave up, and he always fought to keep his Clan safe,” mewed Sandstorm.
Firestar had not moved from where he stood beneath the Highledge, but he added his voice to the rest. “He was loyal through and through. He was the truest friend a cat ever had. StarClan will receive him with honour.” His voice shook again and this time he made no attempt to steady it as he added, “Farewell, Greystripe. May StarClan light your path.”
He bowed his head and padded slowly to the rockfall, to climb up to his den and grieve alone.
Leafpool crouched with the rest of her Clan in the whispering silence, while the night grew darker and StarClan gathered overhead. Were they greeting a new warrior? The last time she had met with StarClan at the Moonpool, there had been no sign of Greystripe. Perhaps Greystripe wasn’t lost under different skies; perhaps he wasn’t dead at all.
She stirred uneasily and her gaze went to the crack in the rock wall that led to Firestar’s den. Even if that were true, Leafpool was as certain as ever that ThunderClan needed a new deputy. Whether Greystripe was alive or not, he wasn’t here to carry out his duties and give his strength to the Clan.
She raised her eyes to the glitter of Silverpelt above her head. “Please, send me a sign,” she murmured. Then she closed her eyes and waited for the dream from StarClan.
She found herself in the forest on a bright day in newleaf, with sunshine dancing golden on moss and fern. She thought she was near the hollow, but when she padded along the path that should have led her to the entrance, she found herself confronted by a thick wall of bramble.
The air was filled with the scent of ThunderClan cats, and from the middle of the bramble thicket she thought she could hear the happy squealing of kits at play. Curious, she leaped into the nearest tree, scrambling up until she could see what lay on the other side of the brambles.
She was looking down into the ThunderClan camp. She could see the familiar dens, a well-stocked fresh-kill pile, and her Clanmates padding back and forth or sprawled lazily in the sunlight. But instead of high stone walls, the clearing was surrounded by tall barriers of bramble.
Suddenly Leafpool felt herself swooping down from the branch until she was hovering above the topmost tendrils, as if she were a bird. From here she could gaze right into the wall of thickly intertwining stems. Every branch bristled with thorns and, as Leafpool looked closer, she saw that they weren’t thorns at all, but cats’ claws, strong and curved and pointing outward to keep out ThunderClan’s enemies.
Bramble claws! Brambleclaw was keeping the Clan safe.
The understanding jerked her awake. Around her the Clan cats still kept their vigil for Greystripe. Silverpelt blazed overhead, and the moon skimmed the branches of the trees, shedding its pale light into the clearing. Moonhigh had almost come, and
soon Firestar would name his new deputy.
Shivering, Leafpool sat up and drew a paw over her face. She had prayed to StarClan for a sign, and they had answered her prayer as clearly as any cat could wish for: Brambleclaw was the cat they wanted to protect ThunderClan. Even though he had never had an apprentice, even though the starry warriors must know about his meetings with Hawkfrost and Tigerstar, he was still the cat they had chosen.
Quietly, so as not to disturb her grieving Clanmates, Leafpool got up and extended her forepaws in a long stretch. Then she headed for her father’s den.
When she reached it, she found Firestar crouched in his nest with his paws tucked under him. She was thankful to see that the stunned look of grief had faded from his eyes; he was deep in thought and started as she spoke his name.
“Leafpool, is that you? What can I do for you?”
“I have to talk to you, Firestar. StarClan have sent me a sign.” Rapidly, aware of the moon steadily rising above the camp, Leafpool told him her dream.
“Brambleclaw?” Firestar echoed when she had finished. “Yes, he’s a good warrior. He would make an excellent deputy.” He shifted among the moss and ferns. “I’d almost decided to appoint Brackenfur,” he went on. “He would be a good deputy too, and he is a loyal warrior. But I have to remember that I’m not only choosing a deputy, I’m choosing the cat who might be the next leader of ThunderClan. And somehow . . . I’m not sure Brackenfur is that cat.”
“Brambleclaw could be,” Leafpool mewed. “I know he hasn’t had an apprentice yet, but I don’t think StarClan would have sent me that sign if it mattered to them. These are unusual times—ThunderClan has never had so few apprentices. I . . . I truly believe that Brambleclaw is the right choice.” In spite of all her misgivings, she couldn’t ignore the tabby tom’s courage and warrior skills, and the determination that had led his companion cats to the sun-drown-place and brought them home with the prophecy that had saved the Clans. He had been chosen by StarClan then; this could be the next paw step they wanted him to take.