It was nearly a sun later when a ThunderClan patrol found Mistystar, exhausted and bloodstained, crouching on their territory border.
Since the storm had broken rain had fallen in a continuous curtain. The streams were close to breaking their banks and the very air seemed to be becoming mildewy. It was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of you, and being dry was a dim memory. It seemed as though now that nature had broken the barriers between leaf-bare and newleaf, she was determined to keep things that way.

But there were worse things out in the world than rain, and for the past sun most cats had been huddling in their dens, trying to close their ears against the horrific sounds of dying cats and the even more spine-chilling screams of some giant animal. And just when they had thought it was safe to leave their dens, one final howl of pain had shuddered through the rain-slicked air before the forest fell truly silent, except for the soft drumming of water.
With none of their usual hostility, the ThunderClan cats escorted the broken RiverClan leader to their camp, knowing that there could be only one reason for her condition and that she was undoubtedly here to tell them what it was.

But before they could reach it the warriors caught sight of Firestar himself, crouching barely more than a few feet away from the cliff edge. At any other time would be thick with brambles that the Clan cats had constructed, but the constant rain had washed them away.
Mistystar staggered forwards to meet the leader, and Firestar shooed his warriors away with a flick of his tail. These days, he spoke less and less, for the very act of talking seemed to drain all of his energy. As a surprising, but cruel, side effect of his degenerative disease, his stutter had faded completely, though he rarely had the concentration to focus on a sentence anymore.

There was a strange congruency between the two cats; both had once been mighty warriors, but were now reduced to cold shells of their former power. They felt strangely disconnected from the real world, as though their spirits were already on their way to StarClan and were connected to their flesh by the thinnest of cords. The only difference between them was that Mistystar stood a chance of recovery; Firestar did not.
The orange tom pushed his head closer to hers, examining her injuries. Finally he spoke in a distant tone of voice, "Your wounds are infected. Where is your medicine cat?"

Mistystar pulled back from him. "My pain is not your affair. As it is, there are no herbs to treat them. Mothwing's stocks were running short in the beginning; the drought had killed most of the herbs she needed. Then the wolves came and destroyed our camp, so now we have almost nothing. What we do have, we save for the queens, though we doubt any of their kits will survive. I deserve herbs least of all-I have lives to spare."
"Wolves?" said Firestar, as though the topic barely interested him.
"Yes, Firestar, wolves. That is why I am here. To warn you. They will return."
"You fought them off. So can we."

Mistystar shook her head in bitter frustration. "No Clan could stand against them. This was not a pack, Firestar, these were two wolves. We won only because of poison and sacrifice. As it stands, nearly half my Clan is dead and the rest of us are all injured. More will die."
"What is it you want, Mistystar? I have no herbs to give you. Ours are gone, too."
The grey she-cat stared hard at the ThunderClan leader, and, for a moment, some force seemed to strengthen her and she raised her head. "I ask nothing from you, Firestar. I came to warn you, and that is done. If you are ungrateful, so be it. The wolves are welcome to those without sense."
Firestar turned his head away. "Where are the wolves now?"

"Both dead, we think-or hope. One vanished into the trees, along with your granddaughter."
For the first time this seemed to get a reaction out of Firestar. "Hollyleaf?" he said. "But she's dead."
"No, she is not, but she will be if any of my warriors see her again. She led them here, Firestar. To RiverClan. She is a traitor to cats everywhere."
"Are you sure you are not mistaken? Things happen in fights. Fear, exhaustion, blows to the head…"
"I trust my eyes and that of my medicine cat. Hollyleaf is alive and healthy."
"And Hollyleaf fled with the wolf?"

"Yes. Where, I don't know. We could spare no cats to track them and it was unlikely they'd pick up a trail with the rain in any case. But the wolf should die."
"And the other?"
Mistystar's eyes gleamed. "We sacrificed him to StarClan this morning. Littlecloud's prophecy was fulfilled after all. Perhaps you heard it?"
"I can barely hear the rain on my ears anymore, Mistystar," Firestar replied. He cast his eyes towards the hollow and was silent for a moment. "They say that in StarClan a warrior is restored to the time when he was happiest."
"With my own experiences, I would say that is true." Mistystar said, wondering where he was going with this.

"I don't remember when I was happy, Mistystar. I liked being leader, but there was too much. Every day there was a new crisis requiring my decisions, and I made the wrong ones far too often. When I was a deputy, Bluestar was as crippled as a kit. When I was a warrior, there was Tigerstar." He sighed. "I think the only time I was truly glad just to be alive was when I was an apprentice. But I don't want to be that, either."
Still not quite understanding his point, and remembering all too well what happened last time Firestar went into an odd spiel, Mistystar said, "I don't think that StarClan takes that into account. I have seen kits become warriors without ever experiencing that in their lives. But why are you so curious? You seem better."

"Better!" rasped the flame-coloured tom. "If I am better, then this is the sunniest day in greenleaf. I am turning into a shadow, Mistystar. Some days I forget who I am. Were it not for Sandstorm, I would have faded away long ago. But she reminds me, each and every day, that my Clan needs me."
"She is a mate that any tom would be privileged to have," replied Mistystar politely.
"But I disagree," he said, as though she had not spoken. "I don't think this world needs me at all anymore. My warriors act as though I am already dead. I am waiting for them to hold a vigil," he mewed, his voice grim with black humour. "And if what you say is true, then there are dark days to come indeed. Days that will require more decisions. Decisions from me! A cat who doesn't remember his own name at times!" He growled, turned around, and then paced back and forth on the edge of the cliff. Mistystar kept one eye on the precipice while steadily stepping away.
Suddenly Firestar stopped and smiled, an expression that showed broken and grey teeth. "Brambleclaw will make a very fine leader. As good as his father, but with rather a better heart. His decisions will be right."

Perhaps a cat from StarClan had murmured into her ear, for the moment Firestar said will make Mistystar knew what he was going to do. She stepped forwards, ignoring the pain in her limbs. "Firestar, enough. If you truly believe that you are worthless to the Clan, go to the Moonpool and make your case to StarClan. They will strip you of your name and elect Brambleclaw. But not this. It was not for this that you were made the hero of ThunderClan."
Firestar tilted his head, and for a moment Mistystar thought she might have gotten through to him. But the leader shook his head slightly. "The hero of ThunderClan," he muttered, and let out a bark of laughter. "Perhaps there was such a thing, but that cat wore another pelt." He took a step towards the edge of the cliff, and then another, until the tips of his toes brushed empty space. He glanced back at her.

"Farewell, Mistystar. Perhaps we will meet in the meadows of StarClan."
"Firestar, don't-stop!"
But she was too late.
The last glimpse she had of the once-great ThunderClan leader was of his body, so soaked in the rain that it was dark brown rather than ginger, tumbling through drowning space before disappearing into the cloud of rain-mist. A series of sickening cracks, one after the other, echoed distantly through the air, before silence once again reigned the woods.
"Firestar," she wailed bitterly, her limbs frozen in horror.
No no no…

A howl pierced the gloom, and so eerily similar was it to the cry of the wolves that Mistystar's heart missed a beat. But this voice was of a cat's.
"Firestar! He's fallen from the cliff!" shrieked a cat.
"Can't have! Mistystar was with him…" said another.
And the idea jumped from cat to cat like a bolt of lightning.
When they came for her, first she tried to explain to them the truth, but their ears were deaf to her. Then she tried to fight them, but there was nothing, not an atom of strength in her limbs. Finally she just limply staggered between them as they herded her towards her fate, and it seemed as cold and unforgiving as the rain around them, the glint in the fangs of the wolf, and the spark of darkness in Firestar's eyes right before he leaped to his death on the rocks below.