She sank her head on her paws again as she finished, as if telling the long story had exhausted her.
Cinderpelt nosed her gently, checking her breathing. “Those were deathberries,” she mewed. “You must never, ever touch them again.”
“I won’t, Cinderpelt, I promise,” murmured the tiny kit.
“Thank you, Sorrelkit,” Firestar meowed. He was angry but not surprised to discover that Graystripe had been right all along. The real shock was the news that Blackfoot had been seen on ThunderClan territory, and that Darkstripe had obviously arranged to meet him.
“What are you going to do about Darkstripe?” asked Sandstorm.
“I’ll have to question him,” Firestar replied. “But I don’t expect he’ll tell me anything.”
“He can’t stay in ThunderClan after this,” Sandstorm pointed out, her voice hard as flint. “There’s more than one cat who would rip his throat out for a couple of mouse tails.”
“Leave him to me,” Firestar mewed grimly.
Cinderpelt stayed with Sorrelkit, who was drifting off to sleep again, while Firestar returned to the main clearing with Sandstorm. Many of the cats were still there, sharing tongues after the earlier meeting. Whitestorm was heading for the gorse tunnel with Goldenflower and Longtail.
The patrol turned back and all the cats looked up, startled, as Firestar bounded to the top of the Highrock and yowled the summons to another meeting. His gaze sought out Darkstripe, but there was no sign of him.
“Where’s Darkstripe?” he meowed at Graystripe as his friend made his way to the base of the rock.
“In the den,” Graystripe replied.
“Fetch him.”
Graystripe disappeared into the warriors’ den, and emerged a moment later with Darkstripe and Brackenfur by his side. All three cats returned to the base of the Highrock, where Darkstripe sat and looked up at Firestar with a sneer on his face.
“Well?” he asked. “What does our noble leader want now?”
Firestar met his eyes steadily. “Sorrelkit is awake.”
For a few heartbeats Darkstripe held his gaze, and then he looked away. “Have you called a Clan meeting to tell us that?” His tone was scoffing, but his fur had bristled u n easily at the new s.
“Cats of ThunderClan.” Firestar raised his voice. “I’ve called you together so that you can witness what Darkstripe has to say. You all heard what happened to Sorrelkit yesterday. She’s awake now, and Cinderpelt says she’ll be fine. I’ve talked to her and she confirms what Graystripe said. Darkstripe did feed her the death berries. So, Darkstripe”—his gaze went back to the dark warrior below—“what have you to say for yours e l f?”
“She’s lying,” Darkstripe retorted. An angry hiss cam e from more than one of the cats around him, and he added, blustering, “Or she made a mistake. Kits never listen to what any cat says. She obviously didn’t hear me properly when I told her not to eat them.”
“She’s not lying or mistaken,” Firestar meowed. “And she told me something even more interesting: your reason for feeding her the deathberries. She saw you meeting Blackfoot, the deputy of ShadowClan, on our territory. Would you like to tell us what that was all about?”
More furious snarls came from the Clan, and a cat at the back of the crowd yowled, “Traitor!” Firestar had to signal with his tail for silence, and it was several moments before the angry cats quieted down again.
Darkstripe waited until he could make himself heard. “I don’t have to justify myself to a kittypet,” he growled.
Firestar’s claws scraped against the rock beneath his paws, and he felt reassured by their sharpness. “That’s exactly what you have to do. I want to know what you and Tigerstar are planning.” Panic suddenly flooded over him, and he forced it back. “Darkstripe, you know what Tigerstar tried to do to us. The dog pack would have torn the whole Clan to pieces. How can you even think of following him after that?”
Darkstripe met his eyes resentfully and did not reply. Firestar remembered how he had caught him on the morning the pack attacked, trying to slip away from the camp with Tigerstar’s kits. Darkstripe had known that Tigerstar was planning something; he would have abandoned the rest of the Clan to a ghastly death without even trying to warn them. That was what his loyalty to ThunderClan was worth.
Firestar wanted to be fair, so that no cat, not even Darkstripe himself, could accuse him of persecuting Tigerstar’s former allies. Even more than that, Firestar was still afraid of what Darkstripe might do if he left ThunderClan and was free to go to Tigerstar. But he was left with no choice. Exile was the only possible sentence for a cat guilty of Darkstripe’s crimes.
“You could have been a valuable warrior,” he went on to Darkstripe. “I gave you one chance after another to prove yourself. I wanted to trust you, and—”
“Trust me?” Darkstripe interrupted. “You’ve never trusted me. Do you think I didn’t know you told that ginger fool to watch me?” He spat the last words toward Brackenfur, still seated beside him. “Did you expect me to live the rest of my days with a shadow?”
“No. I was waiting for you to show your loyalty.” Firestar crouched on the rock and held Darkstripe’s furious gaze without flinching. “This is the Clan where you were born; these are the cats you grew up with. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? The warrior code says you should protect them with your life!”
As Darkstripe rose to his paws Firestar thought he could see fear flickering in his eyes, as if the dark warrior had never intended to make a final break with ThunderClan. He could not be sure, after all, that Tigerstar would welcome him; he had refused to follow the former deputy into exile, and he had failed in his attempt to take Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw to their father before the attack from the dogs. Tigerstar was not a cat who forgave easily.
But there was no trace of fear or regret in Darkstripe’s voice as he spoke. “This is not my Clan,” he hissed scornfully, to gasps of shock from the warriors around him. “Not any longer. ThunderClan is led by a kittypet, and there’s nothing left to fight for. I feel no loyalty to ThunderClan. In the whole forest, the only cat worth following is Tigerstar.”
“Then follow him,” Firestar retorted. “You are no longer a warrior of ThunderClan. If you are found in our territory after sunset today, we shall treat you as we would any enemy. Go now.”
Darkstripe’s burning gaze held Firestar’s for a moment longer, but he did not reply. Unhurriedly, he turned his back on Firestar and stalked toward the camp entrance. The cats nearby drew back as he passed them.
“You know what will be waiting for you if you try to come back,” Cloudtail snarled, curling his lip. Willowpelt said nothing, but spat, her fur bristling.
As soon as the tip of Darkstripe’s tail had vanished into the tunnel, a murmur of speculation broke out among the crowd of cats. One voice rose up clearly. “Has Darkstripe gone to ShadowClan?” asked Tawnypaw.
She had not joined in the Clan’s protests when Firestar had tried to force Darkstripe to admit his guilt. Instead she had watched everything in silent fascination, her eyes following the dark warrior every pawstep of the way to the tunnel. She looked shocked and sickened, but there was something else in her expression that Firestar could not read.
He froze as she asked her question. This apprentice knew that her father was the leader of ShadowClan. Did she understand the full extent of Darkstripe’s treachery?
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Darkstripe can go where he likes. From now on he is not a member of ThunderClan.”
“Does that mean we can chase him out of the territory if we see him?” Whitestorm called.