Pinestar winced as he noticed the fresh blood on his deputy’s ear. Adderfang and Stormtail stood behind him, deep claw marks on their fur. Oh, my Clanmates. I am sorry that I did not fight alongside you today. You deserve more than this, I promise.
“Where were you?” Sunfall meowed.
Pinestar blinked. “Did you win?”
Sunfall nodded. “We chased those fish-faces back as far as the river. They still have Sunningrocks—that is a battle for another day—but they won’t set foot across the border for a while.”
One more tiny victory. Until the next battle.
“Good,” Pinestar mewed out loud. It is time. The last time I will summon my Clan. The last time I will call myself a warrior. The last time I will breathe the air in this place that has been my home for so many seasons.
The smooth gray stone felt familiar beneath his paws as he took his place on Highrock. He looked down at his Clanmates, knowing he would dream about this sight for the rest of his life. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather to hear what I have to tell you!”
Warriors and queens turned tired, grief-stricken eyes to face him. Pinestar felt a fresh wave of sadness roll in his belly. I wish I could take you all with me! he thought for one wild moment.
“Cats of ThunderClan, I can no longer be your leader. From now on, I will leave the Clan and live with housefolk in Twolegplace.”
There was a pause of horrified silence, then Stormtail hissed, “You’re going to be a kittypet?”
Sunfall looked as if a hedgehog had just sprouted wings. “Why?”
“How could you?” wailed Poppydawn from where she crouched beside Sweetpaw’s body.
Pinestar bowed his head. I love you all! Please believe me! “I have been honored to serve you this long,” he explained. “The rest of my life will be spent as a kittypet, where I have no battles to fight, no lives depending on me for food and safety.”
“Coward,” Adderfang snarled.
Pinestar avoided the warrior’s gaze. “I have given eight lives to ThunderClan—each of them willingly. But I am not ready to risk my ninth.”
“What could be more honorable than to die for your Clan?” rasped Weedwhisker.
“You would live among StarClan,” Poppydawn mewed. “And share tongues with Clanmates you have lost.”
Pinestar forced himself to keep still and not run into the welcoming bracken behind him. “I am doing this for ThunderClan, I promise.”
“You’re doing it for you,” Stormtail muttered.
Then a small golden-striped shape moved to the front of the cats and turned to face them. Pinestar stared down in surprise. What was Lionpaw doing now?
The apprentice raised his head boldly. “Do we really want a leader who no longer wishes to lead?” he demanded.
Thank you, Lionpaw. Pinestar watched his Clanmates’ eyes flicker with uncertainty. They shot fleeting, baffled glances at him, light as a butterfly’s wings, as if he was a stranger who had blundered into the camp by mistake.
“Sunfall will lead you well, and StarClan will understand,” Pinestar promised.
“The other Clans might not,” Sunfall suggested. There was a flash of anger in his eyes, and his fur bristled along his spine. “You won’t be able to come back to the forest, you know.”
Pinestar shrugged. “Oh, I can imagine the names they’ll call me. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the leaders suggests an addition to the warrior code, that all true warriors scorn the easy life of a kittypet. But you’ll make ThunderClan as strong as it ever was, Sunfall. My last act as leader is to entrust my Clan to you, and I do so with confidence.”
Sunfall bowed, though his gaze still burned. “I am honored, Pinestar. I promise I will do my best.”
Pinestar jumped down and studied his Clanmates. Former Clanmates? For a moment he wondered if they would treat him as a kittypet from this moment, if he would have to claw his way out of his own home. But Sunfall padded forward and rested his tail against Pinestar’s flank.
“You have led us well, Pinestar,” he murmured.
Larksong joined him. “We will miss you.”
“Sunfall will make a good leader,” White-eye insisted, and the cats around her nodded.
“Thank you,” Pinestar murmured. He turned to face Lionpaw, and felt a purr rising inside him. ThunderClan was lucky to have this young cat among them. “You were right,” Pinestar told him. “I had to tell the Clan myself. It would not have been fair to them, or to you, to do anything else. You have a good spirit, young one. When it is time for you to receive your warrior name, tell Sunfall I would have called you Lionheart.”
Lionpaw’s eyes glowed, and Pinestar knew he had judged well. Not everything I have done was a mistake.
He started toward the gorse tunnel but Leopardfoot blocked his way. “Pinestar, what about our kits?” she pleaded, her voice high with disbelief. “Won’t you stay to watch them grow up?” She had brought the kits out of the nursery; Mistkit and Nightkit were huddled on the ground, barely any bigger than the day they had been born, their eyes cloudy and unfocused. Tigerkit loomed beside them, broad and strong, crouching down to pounce on Pinestar’s tail.
Pinestar twitched his tail out of harm’s way. This is the hardest part of all. I can never tell this Clan about the warning StarClan gave me. Tigerkit deserves to grow up being treated fairly, given the best chance to succeed. It is not my duty to taint his reputation forever. “They’ll be fine with you, Leopardfoot. I’m not a father they could be proud of, but I will always be proud of them. Especially you, little warrior,” he forced himself to add.
Tigerkit stared up at him and let out a tiny growl.
“Be strong, my precious son,” Pinestar whispered. “Serve your Clan well.” Prove StarClan wrong, whatever happens.
There was nothing more to say. It was time to leave. He gazed around the clearing once more, committing every branch, every paw print to memory. Then he pushed his way into the gorse tunnel and left everything behind.
Chapter Ten
Pinestar padded through the forest for the last time, keeping to well-trodden paths. It didn’t matter if a patrol saw him; he was no longer their leader. No cat would be interested in him now. He had no responsibilities, no need to worry about the fresh-kill pile or border marks or whether the elders’ den would leak in the next rainstorm…
As he neared the wooden fence, Pinestar broke into a run. The long grass closed around him as he crouched down and leaped over the border between his old life and his new one. He landed with a thud, his legs suddenly feeling old and tired. He realized he was trembling, and for a heartbeat a sense of dizzying emptiness opened up inside him. All his life he had known what he was: kit, apprentice, warrior, deputy, leader, each role marked out by his name, the way his Clanmates treated him, the boundaries of the territory, and the routine of each day. All that had vanished. What was left?
For a moment, Pinestar wanted to go back. He would no longer be ThunderClan’s leader, but he could be an elder, safe, sheltered, well fed, with no responsibilities, not even for his own ticks. But his Clanmates would still be around him. He would still have to watch cats go out to fight, and never return. And he would be just as powerless to change Tigerkit’s destiny.
Pinestar kept going. He trotted through several kittypet territories, passing Tyr, who was dozing on a patch of sunbaked stone. Over a wall, along a narrow path, and then he was standing on the edge of the Thunderpath, picturing the very last time he had seen Shanty in the orange glow cast by the strange light-making poles. His paws felt heavy as he crossed the Thunderpath, not letting himself look down at the faint brown stain where she had died. She wasn’t there anymore, he told himself. All her pain, all her fear in that terrible moment, was over. Wherever she was, she was safe now.