While she was still speaking, a rustle came from the bushes at the top of the slope, and Squirrelflight appeared, followed by Bramblestar, Rowanstar, and Leafstar. Together they strode down into the bottom of the hollow.
“Where’s Onestar?” Rowanstar demanded. “What’s all this about?”
“Greetings,” Harespring meowed, dipping his head politely as he rose from where he sat a tail-length away from the entrance to Onestar’s den. “Onestar is here, but he won’t see you until all the leaders have arrived. We must wait for Mistystar.”
Rowanstar let out a growl of annoyance, his claws raking the earth of the camp floor. But before he could voice an objection, there was movement in the bushes at the far side of the camp, and Tigerheart emerged with Mistystar.
“Thank StarClan for that!” Rowanstar muttered. “Now maybe we can get this over with.”
Bramblestar glanced at the ShadowClan leader with a twitch of his whiskers. “Keep your fur on,” he advised. “We’ve been waiting for StarClan knows how long for Onestar to talk to us. Let’s try not to annoy him now.”
A bad-tempered snort was Rowanstar’s only reply.
Harespring slipped into Onestar’s den, and a moment later the WindClan leader emerged. After a curt word of greeting he beckoned the leaders closer with a wave of his tail.
“Maybe we should leave the leaders to it,” Hawkwing suggested, rising to his paws and facing the other cats.
“No.” Onestar’s voice was weary but decisive. “The way you fought today proves that you’re a worthy warrior—and besides, every cat should probably hear this.”
He remained standing as the four Clan leaders settled themselves around him, and the remaining cats sat in a ragged semicircle a fox-length farther away. Every hair on Violetpaw’s pelt was tingling with excitement, and she could see the same feeling in Twigpaw’s glittering green eyes.
“I am the reason the Clans have been blighted by Darktail and his rogues,” Onestar began. “And the story goes back many seasons, to when we lived in the old forest, when I was called Onewhisker and Tallstar was the leader of WindClan.”
The WindClan cats exchanged confused glances at their leader’s words. Violetpaw could see that even the senior warriors—the ones who remembered the time Onestar spoke of—had no idea what he was about to say.
“Onestar has kept this secret for such a long time,” she whispered to Twigpaw.
“You all know that I never expected to be chosen as deputy, or to become your leader,” Onestar continued. “Tallstar appointed me in the last moments of his life, and no cat was more astonished than I was. I felt I was unworthy. . . .” He paused for a moment and bowed his head. “And events have proved that I was right.”
“No!” Crowfeather protested from where he sat with his Clanmates. “You’ve been a noble leader, Onestar.”
Looking up again, Onestar shook his head sadly. “When I was a young cat, back in the old forest,” he continued, “I carried out my warrior duties, but I also liked to sneak off to explore the little Twolegplace beyond the farm where Barley and Ravenpaw lived. It was fun to spend time with the kittypets there, and tell them stories about what it was like to live in a Clan.”
“I never knew that!” Whitetail, a WindClan elder, was looking outraged. “Our Clan leader going off to make friends with kittypets!”
“Well, he wasn’t leader then,” Gorsetail murmured.
“It was easy to impress them,” Onestar admitted. He paused to give his chest fur an embarrassed lick. Raising his head, he let his gaze travel over the assembled cats. He opened his jaws to continue, but at first no words came out. Violetpaw could see how much effort it took when he finally began to speak again. “I used to tell them about hunting, and learning battle moves. I was never particularly skilled at those things, but the kittypets didn’t know that, because it was all so new and fascinating to them. And if I exaggerated a bit . . . well, it made me feel good. They thought I was wonderful!”
“But what does this have to do with Darktail?” Bramblestar asked.
“I’m coming to that,” Onestar replied. “There was one kittypet . . . a young she-cat called Smoke. She had such soft, gray fur, and such brilliant blue eyes . . . It was like I was staring into pools of pure water!”
Squirrelflight rolled her eyes. “I see.”
“Smoke and I became . . . more than friends,” Onestar admitted. “She loved to hear my stories of Clan life; she couldn’t get enough of them. She was happy to be my mate, but of course I only ever saw her in the Twolegplace. There was no way I could have brought her into camp.”
Rowanstar exchanged a glance with Mistystar. “You can say that again!” he muttered. “What was the mouse-brain thinking?”
“Obviously he wasn’t thinking,” Mistystar responded tartly.
“Everything was fine,” Onestar continued, “until I found out that Smoke was expecting kits. She came to find me on the moor. Thank StarClan that I was out hunting alone, and I came across her not too far from the border of our territory!
“Smoke was almost ready to give birth. She told me that she wanted to join WindClan, so that her kits could be brought up as warriors.” He gave a heavy sigh. “You see, I’d told her such wonderful tales of Clan life, as if it was all adventure and massive piles of prey. I had not mentioned all the times we nearly starved to death in a harsh leaf-bare, or how often we might get terrorized by dogs or Twolegs . . . or how heartbreaking it was to lose a Clanmate.”
“What did you say to her?” Violetpaw asked curiously, then let out a faint squeak of embarrassment. She had been so caught up in the story that she hadn’t stopped to ask herself if an apprentice should be questioning a Clan leader.
“What could I say to her?” Onestar didn’t seem to realize where the question had come from. “I knew there was no way I could bring a kittypet into WindClan. I would have been in terrible trouble for mating with her in the first place, and even worse, I knew that if Tallstar did let Smoke stay, she would have seen me as I really was. Just an ordinary warrior, not the heroic cat I had made myself out to be. And anyway”—he went on rapidly, as if he was trying to get past the shameful part of the story as quickly as he could—“Smoke was so soft and delicate. . . . She would never have survived a moon out on the moor.”
“So you sent her home?” Squirrelflight asked.
Onestar nodded. “I sent her home. I told her to go back to her Twolegs, where she would be safe. Her relationship with me was over. She argued for a while, but at last she left, and I told myself I’d had a lucky escape. I stayed away from the Twolegplace after that, and I never expected to hear from Smoke again.”
“But you did,” Bramblestar stated.
“Yes, Smoke came to find me one more time,” Onestar replied. There was bitter regret in his eyes. “She had a single kit with her, and she told me that after our last meeting, when she was still on her way home, her kits had come. She didn’t have any help—not from a cat, not even from a Twoleg. All but one of her kits—our kits—had died.”
A murmur of pity came from Sedgewhisker, and Onestar flinched as though some cat had struck him a blow.
“Smoke went back to her Twolegs, but only for a short time,” Onestar continued. “As soon as her kit was old enough to leave her, she brought him to me. She begged me to at least take him into camp, while he was still young enough to learn the ways of the Clans. And I . . . I refused. I was too worried about how I would have to explain to Tallstar.”
Violetpaw couldn’t help thinking about how ThunderClan and ShadowClan had taken in her and Twigpaw, even though at that time no cat knew who they were.
Onestar could have made up some story, if he’d tried, she thought. He could have helped the kit.
“Smoke turned on me then,” Onestar continued. “She told me that she would raise the kit by herself, and teach him to hate the Clans who had rejected him.” His head drooped, and Violetpaw could see that he felt great shame at what he had revealed.
“Wait,” Bramblestar interjected. “This kit—are you saying that he grew up to be Darktail? That Darktail is your son?”
Onestar nodded gloomily. “I tried to tell myself that I was protecting Smoke and her kit,” he mewed, raising his voice over the shocked murmurs of the other cats. “I thought that whatever she said when she was angry, she would take him and go back to being a kittypet, and their lives would be better that way.”
Violetpaw pressed herself against Twigpaw and felt her sister return the gesture. Both of them gazed at their SkyClan father, and they saw Hawkwing looking back at them with nothing but love.
All our struggles are over now, Violetpaw thought. We were so lucky that Alderheart found us in the tunnel and brought us back to the Clans. And now that we’ve found our father, it’s even better. He would never have turned his back on us.
Mistystar broke into Violetpaw’s musings. “So,” she meowed to Onestar. “Darktail knew that you rejected him.”
Onestar gave a weary nod. “Yes, he was old enough to understand. StarClan knows where he went for so long, but wherever it was, he grew into a bitter and resentful cat, full of grief for a father he never knew, and hatred for a way of life he never got the chance to understand.”
“You can say that again!” Tigerheart muttered.
If Onestar heard the comment, he ignored it. “He must have gathered rogues to him as his followers,” he went on, “and not long ago, he wandered up the river and found SkyClan. He attacked them and drove them out.”
Violetpaw saw her father tense for a moment, his neck fur bristling and his claws digging into the ground. She knew that he must be reliving that terrible time. She leaned over to touch his ear with her nose, and gradually he relaxed, blinking gratefully at her from sorrowful amber eyes.
Meanwhile, Onestar was continuing with his story. “When Alderheart arrived on his quest, Darktail got the information that he had been seeking for so long: where I and the other Clans had gone after we left the forest territories. And just like that, he got the chance he’d always craved: to wreak revenge on me—the father who had rejected him—and our whole way of life.”
“I’m beginning to understand why you behaved as you did,” Mistystar remarked.
Onestar hesitated for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether the RiverClan leader was expressing sympathy. “When the rogues attacked us here, in WindClan territory,” he meowed at last, “and the fighting spilled into ThunderClan—that was the first hint I got that Darktail was my own kit. When he attacked me, he whispered, ‘I will destroy you, and all of the Clans, for what you did to me.’ At once, I understood the threat that Darktail posed to all of us, and to WindClan in particular. That’s why I wanted you, Rowanstar, to drive him out of your territory.”
Rowanstar snorted. “It would have helped if you’d told the truth from the start. I might have understood why you were so furious when I hesitated.”
“I know,” Onestar admitted. “But I couldn’t. All I could do was close my borders. And then,” he added, “Bramblestar convinced me to join with the other Clans to expel the rogues from ShadowClan. But in that battle . . .”
Onestar’s voice died away. He hunched his shoulders and his tail drooped; Violetpaw thought she had never seen a cat look so ashamed.
“What happened?” Mistystar demanded. “You wanted the rogues off Clan territory so badly, but suddenly you retreated with all of your warriors. Why?”
“I’m not proud of what I did,” Onestar replied. “But when I was grappling with Darktail—and I’ve never battled an enemy with strength so vicious—this cat who was my son leaned into me and whispered something. . . .”
“What?” Squirrelflight asked tensely.
“He said . . . ‘What do you think will happen to a cat who rejected, and then killed, his own son? Surely that cat would end up in the Dark Forest. Think of that when you are on your last life!’ But what Darktail didn’t know was that I am on my last life. He made me so afraid. . . .”
A gasp went up from all the assembled cats. Violetpaw knew how shocking it was for a leader to refer openly to being on his last life, and even more shocking to admit that he was worried about where he would go after death. She saw Kestrelflight, the WindClan medicine cat, wince and close his eyes briefly.
“You must be joking!” Rowanstar exclaimed incredulously. “The Dark Forest is not for a leader who saves his Clan from a terror such as Darktail—no matter whose kin he is!”
“That’s true,” Kestrelflight agreed. “The Dark Forest is for cats who have given themselves to evil. That isn’t you, Onestar. I could have told you that long ago, if you’d trusted me enough to be honest with me.”
Onestar looked down at his paws. “Maybe,” he sighed. “I admit that it was a selfish fear. But . . . well, things look a bit different when a leader is on his final life. I started to worry that StarClan would judge me harshly for my mistakes—and StarClan knows, I have made many of those.”
Silence followed the end of Onestar’s confession. Violetpaw couldn’t help feeling sympathy for him: it must have been hard to stand up in front of his Clan and his fellow leaders to admit what he had done. At the same time, she knew—perhaps better than many cats—what disasters had followed Onestar’s flight from the battle.
If WindClan had kept fighting with us, we could have defeated Darktail back then. He would never have been able to attack RiverClan. So many cats who are dead would still be alive.
Needletail wouldn’t have had to die. . . .
As the silence dragged on, Onestar raised his head again. Suddenly he looked firmer, more decisive—more like a Clan leader.
“We all have the same problem,” he meowed. “The rogues go on attacking us, stealing territory, threatening vulnerable cats and kits. I know this problem is of my making, and I’m very sorry that I turned away from my friends. I won’t do that again; I’m no longer afraid. Darktail and his rogues need to be dealt with, no matter what happens to me—otherwise, they will keep on coming back, and more good cats will perish.”
“Then—” Bramblestar began.
“Yes,” Onestar affirmed. “WindClan will fight with the other Clans, to drive Darktail off our territory once and for all.”
CHAPTER 20
Alderheart crouched at the edge of the Moonpool, ready to touch his nose to the water. The sky was still streaked with the last light of sunset, and there was a reddish tinge to the surface of the pool. He hoped that was not a bad omen.
This may be too soon for us to visit StarClan again, he thought. But we have to try.
After Bramblestar and the others had returned to the ThunderClan camp, word of Onestar’s confession had spread rapidly through the rest of the Clans. Every cat knew that they would soon be advancing into ShadowClan territory to confront Darktail and his Kin.
This time we’ll defeat him, Alderheart mused, but even so, Clan cats will be injured. . . . Some of us may be killed.
But before that battle could take place, all the medicine cats from the four lakeside Clans had gathered at the Moonpool to show StarClan that they had carried out their last instructions. All five Clans had reunited.
It’s a pity SkyClan has no medicine cat, Alderheart reflected. That’s something we’ll have to deal with as soon as possible.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jayfeather, who shook out his pelt irritably. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
Alderheart closed his eyes and touched his nose to the surface, bracing himself against the chill. But this time the water was warm and caressing, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in a forest glade, with sunlight dappling the ground.
All the other medicine cats stood there with him, except for Mothwing. Around the edges of the clearing, under the trees, the cats of StarClan were assembled, their pelts shining with a frosty light and their eyes gleaming. A shiver of mingled relief and excitement passed through Alderheart as he gazed at them: relief because he sensed that they approved of what th
e Clans were doing, and excitement because there were many cats among them whom he had never seen before.
Can this be . . . ?
“SkyClan ancestors!” Leafpool’s delighted mew answered for him. “Now that SkyClan has returned to us, the spirits of their warrior ancestors can walk these skies with our own StarClan.”
Alderheart’s gaze devoured the newcomers; he knew that each of them would have a story to tell, and he wondered whether he would ever know what those stories were. In particular, he noticed a mottled she-cat who fixed him with an intent look, as if she wanted to ask him something, though she didn’t speak.
The air tingled with the happiness that surged through his fellow medicine cats, and for a few moments Alderheart relaxed, content just to enjoy it.
Firestar padded into the middle of the clearing, beckoning with his tail for the medicine cats to join him there. As he stepped forward, Alderheart saw that the flame-colored tom was standing beside a five-pointed leaf that had the same flame color as his pelt. One of the points of the leaf was bent backward.
“Do you know what this means?” Firestar asked, pointing to the bent point with one paw.
“I’m not sure,” Alderheart mewed hesitantly when he had studied the leaf for several heartbeats. “The five points stand for the five Clans, right? But why is that point bent?”
“That point stands for ShadowClan.” It was Yellowfang who replied, bounding up to stand beside Firestar. “The five Clans must live together, peacefully, on your shared territory. But part of that territory—my old Clan’s home—is lost. It must be reclaimed. Do you understand now?”
A murmur of agreement came from all the medicine cats. “Yes, now I do,” Alderheart meowed, speaking for them all. “Before we can decide how to live peacefully in the territory we have, we must secure all of that territory. We must reclaim ShadowClan’s land.”
Firestar nodded. “Exactly. And to do that,” he added, “the Clans must remember their names.”