He followed her to the barrier. “We’d better be on the lookout for ShadowClan,” he warned. “They might still have a taste for ThunderClan blood.”
Cinderheart glanced back at him sharply. “You think?” She pushed her way through the tunnel.
Lionblaze snorted, annoyed with himself. She was right; he was treating her like a kit.
“Where are you two going?” Graystripe challenged as they emerged from the wall of thorns.
“Can’t sleep,” Cinderheart explained.
“Be careful,” Hazeltail cautioned.
“We won’t stay out long.” Lionblaze’s breath billowed in front of him. “It’s too cold.” He followed a narrow path through the frosty bracken and up through the trees.
At the top of the hollow, they emerged from the forest into moonlight. Lionblaze sniffed at the grass edging the cliff top. It was limp with frost, and he could smell nothing but frozen leaves and ice.
“Are you okay?” Cinderheart’s mew was hushed with concern.
“What do you mean?”
“About Russetfur.” Cinderheart tipped her head to one side. “About her dying.”
Lionblaze stiffened. “About me killing her, you mean?”
“You had to save Firestar.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Lionblaze turned back to the grass, following the glittering stalks around the hollow’s edge toward a fallen branch. He could only smell ThunderClan scents. No sign of intruders, or prey.
“You have to talk about it,” Cinderheart persisted. “Every other cat will be talking about it. You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“It shouldn’t have happened!” The words burst from Lionblaze, anger flooding quickly after. He sprang onto the fallen branch and turned on his Clanmate. “I never meant to kill her!” He tore at the bark, ripping chunks out with his claws. “I was just trying to save Firestar! But I didn’t even manage to do that. He still lost a life!”
Cinderheart flinched from the spray of splinters. “You did save Firestar.” Her voice was firm. “Who knows what Russetfur would’ve done next? She might have taken all his lives.”
Why was she making him remember? He was suddenly back in the battle, Russetfur struggling in his grip as he tried to rip her from Firestar. He shuddered as he felt her grow limp beneath his claws. Why had StarClan let him kill her?
Cinderheart kept pushing. “Every warrior knows they might die in battle. Why are you so upset? Are you afraid ShadowClan will retaliate?” Her dark blue eyes reflected the stars. “Why should they? Death happens. Clans have more to worry about than losing a warrior.”
“She was their deputy!” Lionblaze snapped.
Cinderheart met his gaze. “She was old.”
Lionblaze’s anger weakened its grip. He was suddenly sorry he had let his temper get the better of him. “A true warrior doesn’t kill to win,” he murmured. “Remember the code?”
Cinderheart blinked, her pelt smoothing, then turned and stared into the trees as though watching a thought drift into the forest. “Maybe times are changing,” she breathed.
Lionblaze stiffened. “No!”
Cinderheart shifted her paws.
“What do you mean?” Lionblaze pressed. “The warrior code is the same as it always was. How can something that important to all the Clans change?”
Cinderheart shrugged. “Can’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?” Lionblaze felt his pelt start to prickle. Had Dovepaw given something away about the prophecy?
“Something…” Cinderheart seemed to be searching for the right words. “Something feels different. The battle was so vicious—too vicious for a fight over boundaries—almost as if it was just the beginning of something much worse.” Her eyes were round, dark pools.
Lionblaze stared at her. Was she the only cat to feel this way? He was used to the prophecy: There will be three who will hold the power of the stars in their paws. He’d known for moons that ancient enemies were stirring. The Clans were on the edge of darkness. The knowledge colored every moment for him now; it shaped every thought. But the rest of the Clan must be protected from knowing. It was more than they could comprehend, more than they could cope with, however hard they trained, however much they believed in the warrior code.
“Have you had a dream? Some warning?” he demanded. “If you have, you should tell Firestar.”
Cinderheart shook her head. “No. It just feels wrong that Russetfur tried to kill Firestar. She was a fine warrior. Why try and kill him? She must’ve known StarClan would disapprove.”
Lionblaze leaned forward as she went on.
“It was like something darker was driving ShadowClan.”
A shriek from the trees made them both spin, fur on end, claws unsheathed. A white owl wheeled from between the trunks. It dived toward them, the air from the downbeat of its wide, snowy wings lifting their fur as it swooped past.
“What in the name of StarClan?” Lionblaze gasped.
A wing tip whipped against his muzzle, and he fought to keep his balance on the branch as, with another shriek, the owl whirled away over the hollow. With a startled yowl, Cinderheart pelted into the trees, her tail bristled like gorse. Lionblaze hared after her.
He started to call to his denmate, to reassure her, but he stopped himself. Running would wear out her fear soon enough. Besides, the cold night wind felt good in his fur. He felt powerful. Trees blurred around him; branches trembled as he passed. Cinderheart’s tail, a fox-length ahead, was already beginning to smooth, snaking behind her as she plunged through a stand of bracken. He followed, the frozen stalks scraping his pelt.
Cinderheart swerved as they burst from the bracken. The forest floor dropped away in a short steep slope that Cinderheart leaped in an easy stride, landing lightly and racing onward. She veered to skirt a knot of bare brambles. The trees grew thicker around them as they headed deeper into the forest. Lionblaze let Cinderheart lead, enjoying the warmth of her wake, matching her pace, concentrating only on the ground beneath his paws.
When Cinderheart began to slow, he slowed too, flanks heaving, breath coming in hard gasps, as together they pulled to a halt. Lionblaze was surprised to see the abandoned Twoleg nest, dark against the darker trees. He hadn’t realized they had run so far. They trotted past in silence and headed up the oak-lined slope behind the stones. Brambles sprang in front of them, but Cinderheart kept pushing her way through until she stumbled into a tiny clearing.
Behind her, Lionblaze stopped with a jolt.
“What is it?” Cinderheart asked, turning.
Lionblaze stared around the cramped space, hedged by thorns. He had been here once before. Then the sloping ground had been flat and grassy, dipping down in the center to a hole. Now the hole was gone, and instead of smooth grass, rocks and mud had set like a scab on the forest floor.
Lionblaze felt sick. Somewhere below that wounded earth lay his sister Hollyleaf’s body. This was where she had fled into the tunnels after finding out that Leafpool was their real mother. The entrance had collapsed and disappeared behind a mudslide, trapping her forever.
“What is it?” Cinderheart’s whiskers brushed his.
Lionblaze shook his head. Only he and Jayfeather knew the truth of Hollyleaf’s disappearance, the reason she had vanished underground: not just because of Leafpool, but because she had killed Ashfur, the only cat apart from them and Squirrelflight who knew, in order to keep the secret. When Ashfur’s death changed nothing in the storm inside Hollyleaf’s head, she had announced the truth at a Gathering, then returned to confront Leafpool one final time before fleeing to the tunnel. As far as her Clanmates were concerned, she had died in a tragic accident, and Ashfur’s murderer was still unknown, presumed to be a passing rogue.