She and the other elders lifted Willowpelt’s body and carried it slowly out of the camp for burial. The rest of the Clan emerged from their dens and watched them go in respectful silence. When Willowpelt’s gray fur was lost to sight in the gorse tunnel, Cinderpelt swept her tail around to gather the three apprentices close to her.
“No training for them today,” she told Firestar. “They need to rest.”
Firestar nodded. “You know best, Cinderpelt.”
His limbs stiff from crouching all night, he stumbled to his paws and headed for his den. As soon as he sank into the soft moss of his bedding, darkness swept over him like a crow’s wing.
The sparkling scent of swift-flowing water flooded around him, and Firestar found himself walking beside a river.
Sunlight danced on the surface; the silver shapes of fish flickered in the shallows. He paused and looked around. The trees and bushes on the riverbank were unfamiliar, and he knew that he was dreaming.
There was a sudden turbulence in the water, and a cat’s head broke the surface, a plump silver fish gripped tightly in its jaws. As it swam to the bank and padded out of the water, Firestar recognized Silverstream, the RiverClan cat who had fallen in love with Graystripe and died bearing his kits. The drops of water clinging to her fur shone as brightly as stars.
Dropping the fish in front of him, she meowed, “Greetings, Firestar. This fish is for you.” When he hesitated, she pushed it closer to him. “Go on, eat.”
“But it isn’t a ThunderClan fish,” Firestar protested. “I don’t want to steal prey.”
Silverstream let out a little mrrow of amusement. “You’re not stealing; it’s a gift. It’s not a RiverClan fish either. You looked hungry, so I thought I would catch you some food.”
“Thank you.” Firestar didn’t hesitate any longer. Sinking his teeth into the fish, he thought he had never tasted anything so delicious. With every mouthful he felt strength pouring back into his tired body.
While he was still eating, Silverstream padded closer to him and mewed softly into his ear, “Remember the life I gave you when you became leader of your Clan? I told you it was for loyalty to what you know to be right. Firestar, that isn’t always the same as following the warrior code.” When he turned to her in surprise, she added in a whisper, “I always knew it was right for me and Graystripe to be together, even though we came from different Clans. There are some things that are too big to be contained in the warrior code.”
She touched her nose to his flank, then padded back to the river and launched herself into the water.
“Good-bye, Silverstream,” Firestar called.
He thought he heard her last word of farewell shivering in the air as the dazzle of light on the water swallowed her up.
Where she had vanished, the image of fleeing SkyClan cats appeared, leaping and flickering through the waves. Then Firestar was blinking awake in his own den, with the taste of fish in his mouth and his belly comfortably full.
Silverstream obviously believed he should go on the journey to find SkyClan. The warrior code did not account for everything that happened beneath the stars, and now he had to make amends for what the other four Clans had done so long ago. Since a StarClan cat had come to tell him this, was it the will of his warrior ancestors that the lost Clan should be restored? Perhaps even StarClan felt guilty for what they had allowed to happen.
“I must go,” Firestar murmured aloud. Even though he felt his heart torn in two when he thought of leaving his Clan, he knew that Graystripe was as loyal to ThunderClan as he was, and would care for them until he returned.
He got to his paws, shaking scraps of moss from his pelt.
When he brushed past the screen of lichen and into the clearing, he saw that it was almost sunhigh. The long sleep, and the fish Silverstream had given him, had brought back his strength, and he knew there were many things he must do before he could leave.
First he padded through the fern tunnel to Cinderpelt’s den. Willowpelt’s three kits were curled up asleep in the ferns, huddled together for comfort. Longtail was lying outside the split in the rock and raised his head as Firestar emerged into the clearing. “Hi, Firestar.”
Hope tingled in Firestar’s pads. “Can you see me?”
Longtail blinked, and Firestar saw that his eyes were still inflamed. “Yes… no. I’m not sure,” he replied. “You’re just a blur. I think I recognized you by your scent.”
“Your eyes are no better, then?”
Longtail sighed. “No. I think they’re getting worse.”
“But I’m not giving up yet.” Cinderpelt emerged from her den, speaking around the leaf wrap she carried in her jaws.
Setting it down beside Longtail, she added, “This is a poultice of marigold with juniper berry juice. We’ll see if it helps.”
“Okay.” Longtail didn’t sound hopeful, but he kept his head still while Cinderpelt dabbed the poultice on his infected eyes.
“Did you want something, Firestar?” she asked when she had finished, cleaning her paws on the grass.
“A word with Longtail,” Firestar replied. “It’s about Sootpaw,” he began awkwardly, wondering how Longtail would react to losing his apprentice.
“I know, he’s not being mentored,” Longtail mewed promptly. “It’s been worrying me.”
Firestar was relieved that he didn’t have to explain what was on his mind. “As soon as he’s fit to train again, I think I should find another cat to take over. Just until your eyes are better.”
Longtail’s ears twitched. “You don’t have to lie to me, Firestar. I know perfectly well I’m going blind. I’ll never train another apprentice.”
Firestar exchanged a glance with Cinderpelt. The fact that the medicine cat didn’t protest showed him that Longtail was probably right.
“We’ll worry about that when it happens,” he meowed.
“Right now, we need to find Sootpaw another mentor. Do you think Thornclaw would be a good choice?”
“Yes, he’s very keen. It’s time he had an apprentice.”
Longtail suppressed a sigh. “Sootpaw will do fine with him.”
“That’s settled, then. Thanks, Longtail.” He hesitated, knowing he had to tell Cinderpelt about his decision to leave, but not knowing how to begin.
Her eyes narrowed. “I can tell you’ve something on your mind, Firestar,” she meowed. “Spit it out.”
“I need to talk with you,” he began. “Will you come for a walk with me in the forest?”
Cinderpelt looked startled. “What, now?” She flicked her tail toward the sleeping apprentices. “I’ve got my paws full with those three.”
“No, after sunhigh,” Firestar replied. “I need to talk to Graystripe and Sandstorm, too. We’ll go once the afternoon patrols have been sorted out.”
Cinderpelt’s blue eyes still looked puzzled, as if she was wondering what Firestar had to tell her that couldn’t be said in her own den. “Okay, I’ll take Sootpaw, Sorrelpaw, and Rainpaw to the nursery. Ferncloud and Brightheart can look after them. It’ll do them no harm to be treated like kits for a day or two, so soon after losing their mother.”
“Great,” Firestar mewed. “I’ll meet you by the fresh-kill pile.”
But as he brushed back through the fern tunnel, a cold stone seemed to weigh in his belly as he wondered how his friends would react to his decision.
Firestar led the way out of the gorse tunnel with Graystripe, Sandstorm, and Cinderpelt following close behind; his claws flexed nervously as the time came closer when he would have to tell them about SkyClan.
“Cloudtail reported to me just before sunhigh,” Graystripe meowed as they climbed up through the ravine. “He and his patrol tracked the badger as far as the stream, and then they lost the scent in a patch of boggy ground.”