Two days had gone by since the attack on WindClan, and still, Fireheart hadn't woken up. Cinderpelt was doing her best to remain optimistic, but she was beginning to lose faith that her patient would ever recover. He was still clinging onto life in the meantime, however, so she and the rest of the Clan did their best not to think of the possibility of losing their trusted deputy.

Of course, Darkstripe had no concern over the matter at all, but no one particularly cared about his opinion. The tabby warrior was spending more and more time outside of camp, even neglecting his apprentice, Fernpaw. Dustpelt had taken over her training, much like Fireheart had done with Brackenfur when Graystripe was ignoring his duties as a mentor, although most of the Clan knew that his primary interest was spending time with the pretty apprentice rather than concern over her training.

Bluestar, on the other hand, was having an especially difficult time. She was still riddled with guilt over her apprentice's injuries and spent the entirety of her time altering between sitting at his side and hiding away in her den. Whitestorm had tried to coax her into eating a few pieces of fresh-kill on occasion, but she usually picked moodily at it for a few moments before pushing it away and claiming she wasn't hungry. Indeed, Bluestar wasn't sure if she would ever be hungry again, what with the state Fireheart was in now.

On the evening of the third day after the battle, Bluestar was on her way to see Fireheart again when Whitestorm stopped her. Her nephew had a stern look in his eyes, and the blue-gray she-cat let out an inward sigh. She knew that look all too well; it was the same look he wore whenever he was going to talk her into something she didn't want to do.

"Yes, Whitestorm? What do you need?" Bluestar meowed tiredly.

"You know perfectly well what, Bluestar. You have to eat something," Whitestorm mewed calmly. "And I mean eat, not just picking at your food and throwing it away."

"I'm not hungry," the ThunderClan leader replied defiantly.

"You haven't eaten for three days. How can you not be hungry?" Whitestorm pointed out. More softly, he added, "I know you're worried about Fireheart. I am too, trust me. But he needs you to stay strong for the Clan. Do you think he would want you to neglect the rest of ThunderClan just for his sake?"

Bluestar bowed her head. "It's my fault he's stuck like this," she whispered, feeling herself beginning to choke up. "I ordered the attack, and now StarClan is punishing me! They're going to take away one of the only warriors left that I can trust. But if that's going to happen, then the least I can do is be there when he–he–"

"Bluestar!" Whitestorm's sharp meow snapped her back to attention. "Calm down for a moment and think about what you're saying. What happened to Fireheart is not the result of StarClan punishing you. Mudclaw hates ThunderClan; you know that as well as anyone. Fireheart's injuries were nothing more than that piece of WindClan fox dung taking a battle too far. It just so happens that Fireheart was the one to get hurt instead of another ThunderClan warrior. Besides, do you think Cinderpelt is going to let him die? He's her friend, you know, and she cares for him. She's not going to let him die on her watch; you can count on that."

He spoke with such conviction that for a moment, Bluestar almost believed what he was saying. Then she shook her head, telling herself not to let his words sway her. She knew deep down that StarClan was punishing her for attacking an innocent Clan, and frankly, she couldn't say she didn't deserve it. The attack had been unjust; she had ordered her warriors to harm honest cats over a crime they didn't commit.

StarClan were quite crafty, Bluestar had to admit. They must have realized that directly punishing her wouldn't have been useful, as she no longer cared for her well-being. Instead, they had chosen to unleash their fury on her deputy, knowing that it was the only way to hurt her now. Fireheart was going to die, and all because she had been foolish enough to let her anger and hatred cloud her judgment. He, the only honorable cat in ThunderClan and possibly the noblest cat in the entire forest, was going to suffer the consequences of her actions.

"No," Bluestar meowed out loud. "That's not going to happen."

Whitestorm blinked at her in confusion. "What's not going to happen?"

Instead of answering, however, Bluestar turned on her heel and made her way back towards her den beneath the Highrock. Maybe StarClan had decided to punish Fireheart for her mistake, but that didn't mean she couldn't at least attempt to change their minds. Going to Highstones wasn't an option, seeing as Tallstar had probably ordered his warriors to keep an eye out for any ThunderClan warriors. That meant she would have to try to contact her warrior ancestors another way.

Although I doubt they're going to care, she thought to herself. Not since they've abandoned my Clan and me. But if the only chance I have at making things right is to kneel to those traitors, then that's what I'll do. I owe it to Fireheart if nothing else.

She didn't expect StarClan to explain themselves to her, of course. There could be no explanation, no justification for what they had done. Her only purpose was to convince them not to take Fireheart into their ranks, to change their minds about punishing him. Maybe they would be willing to show mercy, if not for her, then at least for the cat who had served his Clan so faithfully despite not being born into it.

This is my only chance, Bluestar repeated. I have to do this. I can't let Fireheart die for my mistake.

With that final vow in mind, the blue-gray queen curled up in her nest and closed her eyes, waiting for her ancestors to visit her dreams.