“Firestar, you’re back!” the white warrior exclaimed. “Are you—” He broke off, his blue eyes flaring with alarm. “That’s Willowpelt. What happened?”
Dustpelt and Brackenfur joined Cloudtail to listen, horrified, as Firestar set down the dead warrior and described how she had given her life to save Sootpaw.
“Let me get my claws on that badger,” Cloudtail hissed when Firestar had finished. “I’ll make it wish it had never been kitted.”
“Shouldn’t we follow it?” Dustpelt suggested. “We should make sure it really has gone.”
Firestar nodded. “It headed for the Thunderpath,” he meowed. “Cloudtail, take your patrol and see if you can pick up its scent. Follow it and find out what it does, if you can, but don’t attack it. Is that clear?”
Cloudtail lashed his tail. “If you say so.”
“If it settles in our territory, we’ll make a plan to get rid of it,” Firestar promised. “But I won’t risk losing more cats unless I have to.”
Muttering under his breath, Cloudtail led his patrol back along the trail toward Snakerocks. Great StarClan, let them all come back, Firestar prayed as they vanished into the undergrowth.
Firestar’s legs felt heavy with exhaustion as he and Ashfur struggled to maneuver Willowpelt’s body through the gorse tunnel. Pain for his Clanmates stabbed deep into his heart.
He was their leader; he was supposed to protect them, not let cats die when he was with them.
When he reached the clearing, Graystripe and Sandstorm were sitting together by the fresh-kill pile. They exchanged a questioning glance when they spotted him; Firestar guessed they were wondering why he had spent the night away from camp. SkyClan’s troubles crashed over him again, heavier than the weight of Willowpelt’s body, but he had to push them away. There was no time to think of the lost Clan now.
Both cats sprang up and raced over to him.
“Firestar, what happened?” Graystripe asked.
“I’ll tell you soon,” Firestar promised hoarsely. “I have to take Willowpelt to Cinderpelt first, so she can prepare for the vigil.”
“I’ll let her know.” Sandstorm spun around and sped off to the medicine cat’s den.
By the time Firestar and Ashfur had crossed the camp, Cinderpelt had emerged from the fern tunnel.
“Lay her body there,” she directed, pointing with her tail to a shady spot under the ferns. “She’ll be out of the sun until dusk falls.”
The two cats did as she suggested; Sootpaw settled down beside his mother’s body as if his legs couldn’t hold him up another moment. His eyes stared into the distance, glazed with horror, as if he couldn’t stop reliving that terrible moment.
“Sootpaw needs something for shock,” Firestar murmured to Cinderpelt. “And Ashfur might have damaged his shoulder.”
The medicine cat nodded. “I’ll fetch him some poppyseeds. Ashfur, come with me.”
As the gray warrior followed Cinderpelt to her den, another shriek sounded from the opposite side of the camp. Firestar’s head whipped around, and he saw Rainpaw and Sorrelpaw racing across from the apprentice’s den. Sorrelpaw flung herself down beside her mother’s body, pressing herself against her cold flank, while Rainpaw halted in front of Firestar.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“A badger killed her,” Firestar replied. “I’m sorry, Rainpaw.
No cat could have stopped it.”
The apprentice glared at him for a moment more, his fur bristling. Then his head and tail drooped and he turned away without a word, to settle down beside his brother and sister.
“They’ll all need Cinderpelt to look after them,” Sandstorm murmured.
Firestar was too sick at heart to reply. Brushing his mate’s fur with his tail, he trudged across the camp and scrambled up onto the Highrock to call the Clan for a meeting. Already cats were creeping out of their dens, shocked and bewildered as they learned about Willowpelt’s death.
“Cats of ThunderClan,” Firestar began when they were all assembled. “Willowpelt is dead. She died bravely, and her spirit will be honored in StarClan.”
“How did it happen?” Speckletail called out.
Firestar felt as if an extra weight of sorrow descended on him every time he had to tell the story. “The badger ran off toward the Thunderpath,” he finished. “I sent Cloudtail’s patrol to track it.”
Brightheart, sitting outside the nursery, flinched when he mentioned her mate, while Ferncloud drew her kits closer to her with a sweep of her tail. Spiderkit and Shrewkit pressed themselves into her fur, gazing up at Firestar with huge scared eyes.
“What about my kits?” Ferncloud demanded. “What if the badger comes here?”
“Unlikely,” Firestar replied, flexing his claws on the hard rock. “It was a young one, and I think it’s learned that cats aren’t easy prey. We’ll know more when Cloudtail comes back. I promise you,” he added, “we’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t settle in our territory.”
Ferncloud didn’t look convinced, but there wasn’t any more he could say to reassure her.
“Tonight we will sit vigil for Willowpelt,” he announced, and sprang down from the Highrock to show that the meeting was over.
“They’re badly shaken,” Graystripe commented, padding over with Sandstorm to join Firestar outside the entrance to his den.
“Those three apprentices especially,” Sandstorm added, compassion in her green gaze. “This is a bad time for them to lose their mother.”
Firestar nodded sadly. “It’s the first cat we’ve lost since the battle with BloodClan. I think it’s hard for all of us to understand that even if we’re at peace with the other Clans, the forest isn’t completely safe.”
For some reason, alarm lit in Graystripe’s and Sandstorm’s eyes as he spoke, and they exchanged a swift glance. Firestar didn’t understand, but after the stress of his meeting with the SkyClan warrior, and the horrible shock of meeting the badger, he didn’t have the energy to question his friends.
“We’ll talk later,” he mumbled, and padded slowly across the camp to the fresh-kill pile.
When night had fallen, the elders brought Willowpelt’s body into the center of the camp for her vigil. Firestar joined them there; he looked up to see the stars of Silverpelt blazing, as if they waited to welcome Willowpelt’s spirit.
“She was much loved,” Dappletail rasped, smoothing the gray warrior’s fur with one forepaw. “And far too young to die. She had much more to give her Clan.”
“I know,” Firestar agreed, feeling hollow with grief. He had been with Willowpelt when the badger attacked Sootpaw, but he had been unable to save her. Call yourself a leader? he asked himself savagely.
He watched as Cinderpelt guided the three apprentices to their mother’s side; the medicine cat murmured comforting words as the young cats crouched down and pushed their noses into the still gray fur. More of the Clan gathered around, some staying for a little while before going silently to their dens, while others settled beside Willowpelt’s body to keep watch during the night.
How can I leave now? I can’t abandon my Clan to go off into the unknown, searching for a Clan that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe I can’t protect them from badgers that kill or rabbits that blind them, but my place is still here, serving my Clan. That’s what it means to be a leader.
Firestar looked up at Silverpelt, wondering if the starry warriors approved of his decision. But the glittering specks of light seemed very far away, and they gave no answer.
He kept watch beside his dead warrior’s body until the first rays of dawn reached through the trees. A faint breeze ruffled Willowpelt’s fur. Speckletail rose to her paws. “It’s time,” she meowed.