Prologue
Moonbeams broke through the roof of the medicine den. A chill crept into the rock dome through the narrow entrance, heralding the harshness of leaf-fall that was soon to come.
Canarypelt shivered, his thick, cream-colored fur swaying. He glanced at the cracked roof above, where white stars glittered in the deep sky.
Surely a message will arrive tonight. The medicine cat sat expectantly. For moons, he'd curled in his den and awaited news from his warrior ancestors. But it seemed as if he was always waiting, never receiving. StarClan called the Rebellion to life, they wouldn't abandon us now! Canarpelt's fur prickled, and a flash of fury lit in his chest. He slumped to the ground. The feeling was alarming. All his life, he'd felt nothing but respect towards the spirits that guided him.
The leaf tendrils at the entrance shook, and a russet she-cat emerged into the medicine den, a lithe golden tabby following.
"Creststar is having trouble moving," stated the russet cat.
Canarypelt jumped to his paws. His gaze flicked to a long gash on Creststar's flank, and his stomach churned.
"Stay there. I'll get you something." Canarypelt padded to the back of the den, fishing out a small pile of dock. He gently grabbed them between his teeth and returned to the gold she-cat.
"Thank you, Canarypelt," she meowed weakly. "It's just a bit irritated."
Canarypelt removed the cobwebs coating her wound, chewed up the bitter leaves, and began to apply them. "We're lucky the Rebellion won today."
"It doesn't feel as if we've won."
"Don't say that, Creststar." His eyes burned into hers. "The Uprising will only beat us if we believe they can."
"Canarypelt is right." The russet tabby nodded at him.
Creststar's shoulders heaved. She remained silent.
Canarypelt finished coating her wound and took a pawstep back. "Pinefoot, will you see that she doesn't move too much?"
"I know my sister," rumbled Pinefoot, pressing against Creststar, "She'll listen to anything I say."
Creststar rolled her eyes. "And I know my deputy. She has to listen to me."
Canarypelt gazed at the two she-cats fondly. His voice was soft when he next spoke: "Will you be sitting vigil for Rockpaw and Creamtail tonight?"
Creststar winced. "Of course. I was just about to return."
"I'll join, as well," mewed Canarypelt, touching his nose to hers.
Pinefoot straightened. "Are you sure? I thought you wanted to watch for messages from StarClan."
Canarypelt tilted his chin up, watching the twinkling stars above. He knew that the starry warriors were still with the Rebellion, but why weren't they speaking? Perhaps there was no way for them to help anymore.
"I think StarClan will be fine without me for a while," he said, nudging Creststar and Pinefoot outside. The undergrowth shook as the three cats pushed their way into camp. Ferns and nettles stirred in the wind, cold and wet with water drops. The plant-filled hollow was cast in deep shadows. Canarypelt gestured for the leader and deputy to follow him. They pushed through beds of hanging leaves, until they reached a small, peaty clearing.
Surrounded by grief-stricken cats, the black and white bodies of Rockpaw and Creamtail lay, fur soaked in blood.
Canarypelt found his way between a dappled queen and a tabby tom. They both bore deep wounds, ones which would need to be tended to as soon as the vigil came to an end. The medicine cat sprawled out, preparing to murmur his final goodbyes to his friends.
"Rockpaw was our last apprentice," breathed the queen, interrupting his thoughts. "My kits — my kits might end up with the same fate as him!" Her voice rose to a wail, and she curled her thick tail tight around two squealing kits.
Canarypelt pressed against her. "Before your kits are apprentices, Suefall, the Uprising will be defeated," he promised.
Suefall shook her head disbelievingly.
"Every day they grow stronger," a gray-and-white tom snarled, pressing his head against Rockpaw's limp body. "And we grow weaker."
The gathered cats nodded in agreement. Creststar flashed Canarypelt a glance, as if willing him to change their minds.
"The Rebellion is already starting to give up, Pebblefur," Canarypelt meowed, rising to his feet. "We'll never win when all we do is mope about."
"Is this what you call 'moping about'?" challenged a silver tabby. "We're grieving the deaths of our Clanmates!"
Canarypelt's hackles raised. "That's not what I meant, Froststripe." He realized for the first time that his claws were digging into the wet earth.
"If this goes on much longer," began Suefall, eyes flashing, "Me and my kits will be leaving the Rebellion."
Gasps rippled through the grieving warriors. "I'll go back to being a kittypet if I have to, but I will not raise my children just for them to be killed!"
Pinefoot sprang to her paws. "Enough!" she yowled, tail lashing. "This is a vigil! We are meant to be honoring the lives of Creamtail and Rockpaw, not bickering amongst ourselves!" Emotion swelled in her voice.
The feuding cats stiffened, then flattened out their fur, embarrassed.
Canarypelt suppressed a cry of frustration. What was becoming of his Clan? He leaned forward, pressing his nose to Creamtail's fur, and sighed. "May you both have better lives in StarClan."
"StarClan?" muttered Froststripe, her blue eyes glittering under the moonlight. "StarClan has abandoned us."