“That’s Rainfur’s den,” he remarked. “It looks like he hasn’t been around for a couple of days.”
Firestar felt worn-out when they arrived back at the gorge.
But if only a few of the cats they had seen today decided to join, they would have the beginnings of a Clan. But only the beginning, he told himself. There was a lot of work to do before SkyClan would truly live again.
They had almost reached the path down the cliff when Sky let out a sharp exclamation and bounded ahead. Firestar caught up to find him talking to a tomcat whose pale gray pelt was marked with darker flecks.
“This is Rainfur,” he told Firestar. “We looked for you in your den,” he added to the gray tom.
Rainfur flicked his ears. “I’ve been downstream. Is there a problem?”
“No, just some news. Firestar, tell him what you told the others.”
As Firestar launched into his story again he was aware that Rainfur was looking doubtful. He seemed like a strong, proud cat who would need a good reason before he gave up his independence. When Firestar invited him to the meeting, he was quite prepared for him to refuse.
He was surprised when Rainfur nodded. “I’ll come,” the gray tom meowed, “but I’m not sure I like the idea. What will happen to cats who live here if they don’t want to join?”
“Nothing.” Firestar put as much conviction as he could into his voice. “We don’t want to quarrel with any cat.”
Rainfur’s eyes narrowed. “This is a peaceful place. I wouldn’t want anything to spoil it.” Abruptly he turned and plunged into the undergrowth.
“See you tomorrow!” Scratch called after him.
Firestar thought over the gray tom’s words as he followed Scratch down the path toward the river. He wanted to include at least part of this wood in the new Clan’s territory, but he didn’t want to cause trouble with the rogues who decided to remain as they were.
When Scratch reached the bottom of the cliff he turned toward the fallen tree trunk, but Firestar raised his tail to stop him and led the way upstream, intending to cross the river by the Rockpile. He still remembered the hostile force he had sensed in the undergrowth, and his belly lurched at the thought of encountering it again.
Moonlight washed over the gorge as Firestar and Scratch crossed the river again. Firestar leaped from the last rock to the ground to see a pale shape rising up from the shadow of the rocks.
“Sandstorm!” Firestar exclaimed. “I thought you’d be asleep. It’s late.”
His mate padded up and touched noses with him. “I wanted to hear what happened.”
“I’ll be off, then.” Scratch gave them both a wave of his tail, and bounded away to his cave.
Remembering that Clover and her kits would be sleeping in the warriors’ den, Firestar settled down on a rock by the side of the river. Sandstorm crouched beside him, pressing her side warmly against his while he told her about meeting the rogues.
“Then it looks as if SkyClan will return after all,” she mewed softly.
“Yes, I think it will.” But in spite of his optimistic words, Firestar’s belly churned when he thought of the meeting to come. He was used to addressing ThunderClan as their leader, but he wasn’t the leader of the cats who would gather here on the following night. Would they listen to him?
Am I doing the right thing? Shouldn’t there be a sign from StarClan, or from the SkyClan warrior ancestor? Where were all the other warrior ancestors of the shattered Clan?
He sat gazing up at the brilliance of Silverpelt for a long time, until Sandstorm drew her tongue over his ear and urged him back to the cave to sleep.
Chapter 24
The half-moon shone coldly as Firestar padded down the stony trail to the Rockpile. No other cats were waiting for him, and he couldn’t make out any shadowy shapes approaching down the cliff or along the river. Only Sandstorm was with him, pausing beside him at the foot of the rocks to gaze at him with luminous green eyes.
Firestar shifted from paw to paw, uneasy under the light of the half-moon. This was the time when medicine cats met to share dreams with StarClan. Somehow it felt wrong to be waiting for other cats to gather; the moon should have been full. Could that be a bad omen?
Shaking off the premonition of disaster, Firestar let his gaze follow the twisting line of the river, glittering silver in the starlight. He wanted to leap to the top of the rocks and yowl the words that drew his own Clan to a meeting. But the familiar summons would mean nothing here, and he was not sure there would be any other cats to hear it.
Suppose no cat comes to the meeting? What will I do then?
“You’ll be okay.” Sandstorm touched his shoulder with the tip of her tail. “It’s hard when you’re not these cats’ leader, but 3 1 2
you still have to shape them into a Clan.”
“Some of them,” Firestar corrected her. Even at his most optimistic, he couldn’t believe that all the cats he had spoken to would agree to join the new Clan. The last thing he wanted was to force any cat; it was important that they joined because they wanted to, and were willing to live by the warrior code.
Am I afraid they won’t do what I want? No, it was more than that.
The cats who joined SkyClan would have to be determined enough to survive after he and Sandstorm had returned to the forest. And they would succeed only if they were committed to the warrior code to the last claw and whisker.
“Go on.” Sandstorm nudged him toward the Rockpile.
“It’s time.”
Firestar met her brilliant gaze for a couple of heartbeats, and drank in her sweet scent. New strength seemed to flow into him; he sprang upward and reached the top of the Rockpile in a few vigorous bounds. From this vantage point he could see farther downstream and up the gorge in the other direction, but there was still no sign of any cats, except for Sandstorm sitting patiently at the foot of the rocks. The half-moon floated higher in the sky.
Where are you? Firestar thought desperately.
Then he caught sight of a flicker of movement in the shadows near the cliff face. He heard the scrape of claws on rock, and Sky pulled himself onto the topmost boulder to stand beside him.
“Greetings,” he meowed. “I see I’m in time for the meeting.”
“You know about that?” Firestar asked, surprised.
Sky dismissed the question with a flick of his ears. His gray pelt was silver in the moonlight, and his pale eyes shone.
Firestar wondered if Sky had ways of knowing things that other cats couldn’t understand.
“Do you want to speak to them first?” he suggested.
“You’re a descendant of SkyClan; they’ll listen to you.”
“Listen to me? The crazy rogue who sits looking at the moon?” A rusty purr of amusement came from the old cat.
“No, you must speak to them. More than anything, they need a leader to follow, and you can walk that path more easily than I.”
“But I am not their leader…” Firestar started to protest.
Sky looked deep into his eyes. “You can go back to your own Clan soon,” he promised. “But my Clan needs you now.”
Firestar bowed his head. “I will try,” he whispered.
Straightening up, he saw with a start of surprise that cats had begun to appear in the gorge. He spotted Scratch sitting at the foot of the rocks, half-hidden in shadows. Clover was guiding her kits down the stony trail and thrust them gently toward a niche in the Rockpile itself. All three kits were squeaking with excitement.