“We will, Rowanfur.” Spiderstar dipped his head to the young cat. “Their spirits are free now to walk among the stars.”
“What?” A gray tabby elder rose shakily to his paws. “Sunpelt and Fallensnow are dead? Then where are their bodies? We must sit vigil for them and then bury them.”
“Oakstep, we had to leave them behind,” Swallowflight spat out with a lash of his tail. “We were too busy fleeing to save our own pelts to carry our fallen Clanmates.” He turned away, his head bowed as if he couldn’t bear to go on looking at the others.
Frostclaw padded up and sat quietly beside him, pushing her nose into the black tom’s matted shoulder fur. “Swallowflight, there was nothing else we could have done for them. No cat could blame us.”
“She’s right,” Brackenheart meowed quietly. “Our Clanmates hunt with StarClan now. They’ll understand.”
Spiderstar nodded, his eyes dark with pain and loss.
“But if you had brought them back we could have buried them!” Oakstep protested. “Where is the honor in leaving them to be picked over by the rats? Sunpelt and Fallensnow should never be crow-food!”
Every paw step an effort, he started to hobble up the trail that led to the top of the gorge. Before he had gone more than a few fox-lengths, Spiderstar darted in front of him and forced the grief-stricken elder to stop.
“We have lost enough Clanmates tonight,” he mewed. “Let us pray for their spirits as they join StarClan.”
Swallowflight’s ears pricked, and he turned to look at his Clan leader. “StarClan? Do you think they are really watching over us?” His whiskers twitched with disgust. “If they cared about us at all, they would never have let the rats come.”
Honeyleaf whirled to face her Clanmate. “StarClan has given us the warrior code, and with that comes the courage and skill to defeat our enemies. SkyClan is not defeated yet!”
Silence greeted her words. It was several heartbeats before Spiderstar spoke, his voice aching with sadness. “Honeyleaf, you’re wrong. We are defeated. I cannot bear to lead my Clanmates into one more battle, to watch them starve through another leaf-bare, afraid of every noise, every stirring leaf. We have become prey.” He heaved a sigh from the depths of his chest. “The rats have won. SkyClan is no more.”
A chorus of protest broke out at the Clan leader’s words. The third elder, a sandy-colored she-cat, hauled herself to her paws and padded up to face him, her whiskers twitching.
“That can’t be right, Spiderstar,” she growled. “I was a kit when we lived in the forest, when the Twolegs stole our territory and the other Clans forced us to leave. Some cats thought SkyClan was finished, but we found a new home for ourselves, here in the gorge. If losing our home didn’t beat us, neither should this battle.”
“Mousefang’s right.” Oakstep padded to his Clanmate’s side. “We can’t give up now.”
“Show us these rats and we’ll fight them,” another elder, Nightfur, added.
“I never knew the forest, but I honor your memories of it.” Spiderstar dipped his head to the three old cats, respect in his eyes. “No cat doubts your courage, my friends, but there’s nothing that any of us can do. There are too many rats.”
“Then there has to be another answer!” Honeyleaf burst out. “Spiderstar, I’ve tried to be a good, brave, loyal deputy, to you and to SkyClan. I’ve worked my paws off, and I’ve never been afraid to fight. I didn’t come this far just to watch our Clan die!”
Spiderstar reached out to touch the she-cat’s shoulder with the tip of his tail. “You have been the best deputy a cat could wish for,” he told her. “And you would have led your Clan with the same honor and courage. Every cat knows that.”
“What do you mean, ‘would have’?” Honeyleaf drew her lips back in the beginning of a snarl; her neck fur bristled up. “I—”
“This is all a load of mouse dung.” Nightfur cut off what the deputy was about to say. “How are we supposed to survive as loners if we can’t survive as a Clan?”
For a few heartbeats no cat answered; they exchanged dismayed glances with one another, as if the old black tom’s words had suddenly made them realize that they were facing a future without the support of their Clan. Even Honeyleaf subsided, her fur settling flat again and only her tail-tip twitching.
“I… I’ve been taking food from Twolegs now and again,” Frostclaw admitted, lowering her head and giving her mangled paw a lick. “It doesn’t taste too bad, if you’re hungry.”
“What?” Honeyleaf’s ears pricked. “Food from Twolegs? That’s completely against the warrior code!”
Frostclaw blinked at her guiltily and didn’t try to defend herself.
The young ginger tom, Rowanfur, padded up to her and pressed himself against her side. “So what?” he meowed defiantly. “I’ve been taking food from Twolegs, too. I’d rather do that than starve. I reckon they’d take us into their dens,” he added, his voice shaking a little. “I think they’re sorry for us, seeing how thin we are. If we went to live with them, we’d have shelter and we’d be safe from the rats.”
One or two of the other cats nodded and murmured agreement.
Honeyleaf stalked into the middle of the group, raking them with an icy glare from her green eyes. “Kittypets? You want to be kittypets? SkyClan warriors will never do that! It would be the greatest shame of all!”
“That’s true!” Swallowflight agreed with a lash of his tail. “I’d rather die than go crawling to Twolegs for food!”
None of the other cats could meet the deputy’s accusing stare. At last, Mousefang asked quietly, “Brackenheart, have you had a sign from StarClan? Can they tell us what to do?”
The young medicine cat padded forward, his eyes downcast. “I feel nothing but sadness and guilt coming from our ancestors,” he confessed. “Guilt for taking us away from the forest, and sadness because SkyClan is coming to an end.”
“What?” Oakstep’s eyes stretched wide with horror. “Has even StarClan given up on us? I remember when Cloudstar led us away from the forest,” he went on when no cat answered him. “He said we should never look to the spirits of our warrior ancestors again, and he was right. We should never have listened to StarClan. They have done nothing for us!”
By now the sunlight had almost gone, and warriors of StarClan were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. But none of the cats in the gorge looked up at their frosty glitter. Instead, they huddled together at the bottom of the cliff, where the rocks retained a little warmth from the sun, and there was shelter from the chilly wind.
“Then this is the end,” a black-and-white tom meowed. “Rowanfur, will you show me where to get Twoleg food?”
“Of course,” the ginger tom replied. “Any cats who want to can come with me and Frostclaw.”
A gray she-cat got up and padded to his side. “I’ll come, too. There’ll be food and warmth with the Twolegs. The warrior code can’t feed or shelter us. It’s just words.”
“I never thought I’d hear a SkyClan warrior say that!” Honeyleaf hissed, horrified. “The warrior code lives in all of us, when we hunt and fight and give thanks for the life of a Clan cat.”
The gray she-cat whipped around to face her. “I do not give thanks for this life! It is over!”
Honeyleaf slid out her claws, and for a heartbeat it seemed as if the two she-cats would turn on each other, screeching and clawing. Then the Clan deputy turned her back.
“Well, I won’t turn into a mewling kittypet,” she insisted, her bristling fur showing how furious she was. “If we can’t stay here, I’m going farther up the gorge, away from the rats. There might be better hunting there.”
“I’ll come with you,” Swallowflight meowed. “We’ll survive better if we hunt together.”