River Of Fire

PROLOGUE

A warm breeze wafted over the grass, carrying with it the scents of prey and the fresh green growth of newleaf. The sun shone from a blue sky crossed by scudding white clouds. A small stream gurgled its way down a gentle slope, then widened out into a pool fringed with rushes.

A group of cats sat beside the pool, while others stalked up and down along the bank. Frost shimmered in their fur, and starlight glittered at their paws and in their eyes.

“I can’t believe this has happened!” a cream-furred she-cat lamented. “I gave up my life trying to get back to ShadowClan.” Her voice shook as she went on. “I never thought there would be a time when ShadowClan didn’t exist!”

A plump white she-cat nuzzled her shoulder briefly, her black ears quivering. “I know, Dawnpelt,” she murmured with a sorrowful glance around at her Clanmates. “Maybe it’s our fault. Maybe we didn’t fight hard enough for ShadowClan while we were alive.”

A disdainful hiss came from a slim, silver-pelted cat, who had been pacing restlessly near the water’s edge. She halted and rounded on the others, her front claws tearing angrily at the grass. “You’re wrong, Beenose,” she snarled. “We couldn’t have saved a Clan that didn’t want to be saved. We have to place the blame where it belongs: on Rowanstar. Rowanclaw, as he’s calling himself now.”

“That’s easily said, Needletail.” The rasping voice came from an old gray she-cat with rumpled fur and glaring amber eyes, who sat on top of a boulder a couple of tail-lengths away. “But Rowanstar wasn’t the only cat who misunderstood Darktail’s true intentions. Did some of you not call yourselves Darktail’s Kin?”

“Of course, Yellowfang, you always know everything,” Needletail retorted, her tone edged with sarcasm.

“I’ve seen more in my time than you young cats.” Yellowfang’s voice rumbled from deep within her chest. “I thought once that nothing worse than Brokenstar’s leadership could happen to my Clan. But I was wrong.”

“I trusted Rowanstar,” a white tom added from where he sat at the base of Yellowfang’s rock. He swiped his tongue over one black forepaw and used it to wash his ears. “I thought he would make a fine leader after me. But what was he to do when half his Clan betrayed him and followed Darktail?”

Dawnpelt nodded sadly. “You’re right, Blackstar. I know we also made mistakes.”

“And now the ShadowClan cats who are left have joined SkyClan,” Beenose murmured. “But will Leafstar and the rest of SkyClan ever really trust them? We should all have tried harder when we had the chance.”

“That’s a load of mouse droppings!” Needletail meowed, her green eyes narrowing. “A strong leader could have held the Clan together, Darktail or no Darktail. We were only tempted by Darktail because of Rowanclaw’s weakness. And now that Darktail is dead, a strong leader would already be rebuilding the Clan. Rowanclaw accepted nine lives from StarClan, and now he’s all, ‘Thank you very much, I don’t want them anymore.’ What cat does that?”

Blackstar puffed out a sigh and shook his head. “No cat . . or at least, no cat should,” he admitted.

“And now the whole Clan is suffering,” Needletail hissed. “That mange-pelt—”

“Enough!” A new voice rang out.

They all turned to see a cat standing at the top of the slope, outlined against the sky. As they watched, she headed toward them, brushing her way through the grass with neat, purposeful paw steps. Stars streamed through her thick black fur like water.

“Who’s that?” Needletail muttered, glaring at the newcomer.

“No idea,” Blackstar replied, looking puzzled. “She’s no ShadowClan cat I’ve ever seen.”

The strange cat halted in front of the group of cats, seemingly undaunted by their bristling neck fur and twitching tail-tips.

“You may not have seen me,” she mewed calmly to Blackstar, “but I have seen you, many times. I am Shadowstar, the first leader of your Clan.”

Every cat instinctively took a step back. Dawnpelt let out a gasp, while murmurs of astonishment rose from the other cats. Yellowfang dipped her head respectfully, and even Needletail looked awed.

“You should not pass blame along so casually,” Shadowstar went on, fixing Needletail with a stern gaze. “The end of ShadowClan is about much more than Rowanclaw’s failure or the loss of your territory. Since the beginning, ShadowClan was destined to be one of the five Clans.”

The ShadowClan cats glanced uncertainly at one another.

“Why have you come to tell us this?” Yellowfang asked at last.

“The other first leaders and I led groups of cats, each group finding the place—moor, forest, river, or marsh—best suited to those cats’ characters and abilities. These groups, which would become the five Clans, then united in purpose for all our survival,” Shadowstar explained. “Only by working together, five separate but connected groups, like the petals of the blazing star, could we survive. Now you—not just ShadowClan, but the ancestors of all the Clans—must send a message to the living cats.” Her eyes glowed, the color of sunlight on fresh leaves, as she added, “There must be five Clans! ShadowClan must be saved!”

“But it’s too late,” Dawnpelt mewed wretchedly.

“We’ve already given the Clans a prophecy,” Blackstar pointed out. “But they’re ignoring it.”

Shadowstar lashed her tail. “If the fifth Clan is not saved, worse things will come than a storm,” she meowed. “Eventually it will mean the end of all the remaining Clans. And if we have no living cats to guide, it will mean the end of StarClan itself.”

A shocked silence fell over the group of starry warriors. None of them had ever imagined a time when there would be no StarClan.

It was Needletail who broke the silence. “In that case,” she responded, raising a paw to smooth her whiskers, “we’d better get working on the right message to send. . . .”