Something is prodding Graystripe in the side. With a muffled mew of protest he opens his eyes to see Cinderpelt stooping over him.
"You dozed off," she murmurs. "But you'll have to wake up now. It's time to bury Bluestar."
He staggers to his paws. He flexes each stiff leg in turn and passes his dry tongue over his lips. He fee;s as if he has been crouching in the clearing for a moon at least. The sense of comfort he had felt as he slept is replaced by a wave of guilt.
"Did any cat see?" he mutterers to Cinderpelt. The medicine cat's blue eyes glimmer with sympathy.
"Only me. Don't worry about it, Graystripe. No cat would blame you after what happened yesterday."
Graystripe glances around the clearing. The pale light of dawn is just beginning to seep through the trees. A few tail-lengths away the elders have assembled to carry out their duty of bearing Bluestar's body to the burial place. The rest of the Clan are slowly emerging from their dens, forming two lines between Bluestar's body and the entrance to the gorse tunnel.
At a nod from Cinderpelt, the elders take up the body and carry Bluestar between the rows of her grieving warriors. Every cat bows his or her head as their leader is carried past.
"Good-bye, Bluestar," he murmurs. "I'll never forget you."
Sharp thorns of pain pierce his heart when he sees the tip of her tail scoring a furrow in the blackened leaves that still lie on the ground after the recent fire, also mixed with colorful leaves. When Bluestar has vanished with her escort, the rest of the cats begin to disperse.
Graystripe checks the camp, noticing with approval that the pile of fresh-kill has been stocked up. All he needs to do is send out the dawn patrol; then he can eat and rest.
He feels as if a moon of sleep would not be enough to banish the exhaustion from his paws. "
Well, Graystripe," meows Cinderpelt. "Are you ready?"
He turns to face her, puzzled. "Ready?"
"To go to the Moonstone to receive your nine lives from Starclan."
The tip of Cinderpelt's tail twitches.
"Graystripe, surely you hadn't forgotten?"
Graystripe shuffles his paws uneasily. Of course he hasn't forgotten the ancient ceremony to initiate all new clan leaders, but somehow he hasn't realized that it takes place right away after the past leader has died. He feels dazed by the speed with which everything is happening, bearing him forward relentlessly like the swift waters of the gorge that had almost drowned him.
Fear rises in his throat and he has to swallow quickly. No leader ever speaks of the mystic rite, so no other cat, except for the medicine cats, know what happens there.
Graystripe has visited the Moonstone before and talked to their ancestors, and received a vision himself there . That experience has been awe-inspiring enough. He can not imagine what would happen when he had to share dreams with his warrior ancestors to get the nine lives that every clan leader receives. On top of this, he knows that Highstones, where the Moonstone lies in a cavern far underground, is a whole day's journey away, and the ritual demands that he not eat beforehand, not even the strengthening herbs that other cats took for the journey because he is now the leader of the clan.
"Starclan will give you strength," meows Cinderpelt, as if she has read his thoughts. Graystripe mutters in vague agreement. Glancing around, he spots Longtail on his way to the warriors' den and summons the pale warrior with a flick of his tail.
"I've got to go to Highstones," he meows. "Will you take charge of the camp? We'll need a dawn patrol."
"Consider it done, Graystripe," promises Longtail, surprise in his green eyes and adds, "Starclan go with you, Graystripe."
Graystripe takes a last look around the camp as he follows Cinderpelt toward the gorse tunnel. Knowing that Longtail is in charge of the camp, makes him at ease as he trust the pale warrior. He will make an excellent deputy.
He feels as if he were going on a long journey, farther than he has ever traveled before, where the prospect of return looks doubtful. And in a way he never will return, for the cat who comes back will have a new name, new responsibilities, and a new relationship with Starclan. As he turns away, a yowl sounds behind him.
Sandstorm and Cloudtail are racing across the clearing.
"You weren't sneaking off without saying good-bye?" Cloudtail pants, skidding to a halt. Sandstorm says nothing, but she twines her tail with his and presses close to his side.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Graystripe meows.
"Listen," he adds awkwardly,
"I know things will be different now, but I'll never stop needing you—both of you and Longtail. No cat ever had such good friends."
Cloudtail butts him in the shoulder.
"We know that, you stupid furball," he mews.
Sandstorm's green eyes shine as she gazes into Graystripe's.
"We'll always need you too, Stripes," she murmurs. "And you'd better not forget that."
"Graystripe, come on!" Cinderpelt calls from where she is waiting at the entrance to the gorse tunnel. "We have to reach Highstones by nightfall—and remember I can't move as fast as you."
"Coming!" Graystripe gives each of his friends a quick lick before plunging into the gorse tunnel after the medicine cat. His heart feels full of hope as he catches up to her and makes his way to the top of the ravine. He might be leaving his old life behind, but he can take with him everything that is important. His friendships and the support they give him.
The sun is up in a clear blue sky and the frost has melted from the grass by the time the two cats reach Fourtrees, where the Gatherings are held between all four clans every full moon.
The two cats cross the border leaving the sheltered forest behind them. As he and Cinderpelt reach the crest of a stretch of moorland and he notices a Windclan patrol picking their way through the heather a few foxlengths below. They are downwind, so Graystripe has not detected their scent as a warning.
The leader of the patrol raises his head, and Graystripe recognizes the warrior Tornear. He and Cinderpelt wait as the Windclan cats bound through the heather toward them. Mudclaw curls his lip in a snarl, but Tornear dips his head as he halts in front of Graystripe.
"Greetings, Graystripe, Cinderpelt," he meows. "Why are you here on our territory?"
"We're on our way to Highstones," Cinderpelt replies, taking a step forward. He feels a surge of pride to see the respectful nod the Windclan warrior gives to his medicine cat.
"No bad news, I hope?" Tornear asks; cats did not usually travel to Highstones unless a crisis in their Clan demands direct communication with Starclan. Or apprentices head there to experience the Moonstone for themselves, with usually just their mentor.
"The worst," Cinderpelt meows steadily. "Bluestar died yesterday."
All three Windclan cats bow their heads; even Mudclaw looks solemn.
"She was a great and noble cat," Tornear meows at last. "Every clan will honor her memory."
Raising his head again, he turns to Graystripe with a look of curiosity and respect in his eyes.
"So you're to be leader now?" he asks.
"Yes," Graystripe admits. "I'm going to receive my nine lives from Starclan."
Tornear nods, his gaze traveling slowly over the warrior's gray-colored pelt.
"You're young," he comments. "But something tells me you'll make a fine leader."
"Th-thank you," Graystripe stammers, taken by surprise.
Cinderpelt rescues him.
"We mustn't stay," she meows. "It's a long way to Highstones."
"Of course." Tornear steps back. "We'll tell Tallstar your news. May Starclan be with you!" he calls as the two ThunderClan cats bounded away.
On the edge of the uplands they pause again and look down over a very different landscape. Instead of bare hillside broken by outcrops of rock and patches of heather, he sees a scattering of twoleg nests among fields and hedgerows. In the distance the Thunderpath cuts a swath across the land, while beyond that jagged hills rear up, their barren slopes looking gray and threatening.
Graystripe swallows; that desolate region is where they were heading. He realizes that Cinderpelt is looking at him with understanding in her blue eyes.
"Everything's different," he confesses. "You saw those Windclan cats. They don't even treat me in the same way anymore. Even though I'm the same deputy and jokester as before"
He knows he can never say these things to anyone except the medicine cat—not even to Sandstorm. Despite how much he will want to. Their relationship has changed, meaning he will be confiding more in Cinderpelt for clan decisions and his deputy.
"It's as if every cat expects me to be noble and wise. But I'm not. I'll make mistakes, just like I did before. Cinderpelt, I'm not sure I can do this."
"Mouse-brain."
Graystripe is both shocked and comforted by the teasing note in Cinderpelt's voice.
"When you make mistakes—not if, Graystripe, when—I'll tell you about them, believe me." More seriously, she adds, "And I'll still be your friend, no matter what. No cat that ever lived was perfect all the time. Bluestar wasn't! The trick is to learn from your mistakes, and have the courage to be true to your heart. And you won't be alone wit just me. You'll have the support of your deputy and the support of Sandstorm along with your clanmates. They might not see you the same, but you won't be alone."
She turns her head and rasps her tongue over his ear.
"You'll be fine, Graystripe as long as you remember that.. Now let's go."
Graystripe lets her take the lead down the slope and across the twoleg farmland. The two cats pick their way over the sticky earth of a plowed field and skirt around the twoleg nest where the two loners, Barley and Ravenpaw, live.
He keeps a lookout, but there is no sign of them. He is sorry not to see them, for both cats are good friends to Thunderclan, and Ravenpaw had once trained alongside him as an apprentice.
The distant barking of a dog sends shivers through Graystripe's fur as he remembers the horror of being chased by the pack. Keeping to the shadows of the hedges, they eventually reach the Thunderpath and crouched beside it, their fur ruffled by the wind of monsters racing past them. The strong reek of their fumes flood his nose and throat, and his eyes sting.
Cinderpelt braces herself beside him, waiting for a space between the monsters when it will be safe to cross. Graystirpe feels anxious for his friend. Her leg has been permanently injured in an accident at the edge of the Thunderpath many moons ago, when she had been Fireheart's apprentice; the old injury will slow her down. "
We'll go together," he meows. "Whenever you're ready."
Cinderpelt gives a tiny nod; Graystripe guesses she is afraid, but she won't admit it. He brushes his tail on her flanks to comfort her.
A moment later, after a brightly colored monster flashes past, she meows, "Now!" and limps rapidly out onto the hard black surface. Graystripe bounds at her side, forcing himself not to leave her behind even though his heart is hammering and every instinct screams at him to run across as quickly as he can. He hears the roar of a monster in the distance, but before it arrives he and the Medicine cat are safe in the hedgerow on the other side.
The Medicine cat lets out a gusty sigh. "Thank StarClan that's over!"
He murmurs agreement, though he knows they still have to face the return journey. Already the sun is sliding down the sky. The land on this side of the Thunderpath is less familiar to Graystripe, and every sense is alert for danger as they begin to climb toward Highstones.
But all he can hear is prey scuffling in the scanty grass; the tempting scent floods his mouth, and he wishes he is allowed to stop and hunt.
As Graystripe and Cinderpelt reach the foot of the final slope, the sun is setting behind the peak. The evening shadows are lengthening and a chill creeps over the ground. Above his head, Graystripe can make out a square opening beneath an overhang of stone.
"We've reached Mothermouth," Cinderpelt meows. "Let's rest for a moment."
She and him lie down together on a flat rock while the last of the light dies from the sky and the stars of Silverpelt begin to appear. The moon floods all the landscape in a cold, frosty light. "
It's time," mews Cinderpelt.
All his misgivings courses through him once again, and at first he thinks his paws will not carry him. But he rises and begins walking forward, the sharp stones biting into his pads, until he stands beneath the arch known to the clans as Mothermouth.
A black tunnel yawns into darkness. From his previous visits Graystripe knows that there is no point in straining his eyes to see what lay ahead; the blackness is unbroken all the way to the cavern where the Moonstone lies.
As he hesitates, Cinderpelt steps forward confidently.
"Follow my scent," she tells him. "I will lead you to the Moonstone. And from now on, until the ritual is over, neither of us must speak."
Graystripe nods, despite there being a forest full of questions that he wants to ask her about the procedure, since his past experiences won't be like this one. But none of those answers would help him overcome the creeping dread he feels. Even though he knows he has done great at leading the clan during these past few moons, he can't help but doubt himself. Especially that now he is becoming the leader of Thunderclan. A huge responsibility. But he will not be alone, like Cinderpelt said.
Graystripe bows his head in silence and follows Cinderpelt as she makes her way into the darkness. The tunnel slopes steadily downward, and he soon loses his sense of direction as it winds back and forth. Sometimes the walls are so close together that his fur and whiskers brush the sides.
His heart thumps wildly despite having done this two times before and he opens his mouth to draw in Cinderpelt's comforting scent, terrified at the thought that he might lose her. Even though his mind, despite his fear, knows that he won't.
At last he realizes that he can see Cinderpelt's ears outlined against a faint light ahead. Other scents begin to reach him, and his whiskers twitch in a flow of cold, fresh air.
A heartbeat later he rounds a bend in the tunnel and the light grows suddenly stronger. Graystripe narrows his eyes as he pads forward, sensing that the tunnel has opened out into a cave.
High above his head, a hole in the roof shows a chink of night sky. A shaft of moonlight shines through it, falling directly onto a rock in the center of the cavern. Graystripe draws in his breath sharply. He has seen the Moonstone twice before, but he has forgotten just how startling it was.
About three tail-lengths high, tapering toward its top, it reflects the moonlight in its dazzling crystal as if a star has fallen to the earth. The white light lits up the whole cave, turning Cinderpelt's gray fur to silver. She turns toward Graystripe and signals to him with her tail to take his place beside the Moonstone. Unable to speak, even if he can think of anything to say, he obeys.
He lies down in front of the stone, settling his head on his paws so that his nose touches the smooth surface. The cold is a shock, so he almost draws back, and for a moment he blinks at the light of stars sparkling in the depths of the stone. Then he closes his eyes, and waits for Starclan to send him to sleep.