The sun has begun to set over the river, turning the water to a moving sheet of flame and sending a comforting warmth through Graystar's fur. He stands on the top of Sunningrocks, looking out over Riverclan territory.
"I wonder what tomorrow will bring," he murmurs.
Beside him, Sandstorm shakes her head, not replying in words but pressing her warm flank close to him. After their return from the devastated Windclan camp, Graystar had asked the pale ginger warrior to patrol with him. He has felt the need to get away from the rest of his clan for a while to prepare himself for the meeting with Tigerstar. Yet he did not want to be completely alone, and Sandstorm's presence comforts him.
They had skirted around Snakerocks and followed the Thunderpath up to the border with Shadowclan to renew the scent markings as far as Fourtrees; finally they returned along the RiverClan border.
There is no sign of Shadowclan intruders. The borders are secure, and yet Graystar knows that if they have to fight Shadowclan the battle will be about so much more than borders. It will be the climax of his conflict with Tigerstar, which has lasted since Fireheart died.
Graystar lingers on the rocks, savoring the comfort of being alone with Sandstorm.
"Tigerstar is determined to make himself ruler of the whole forest," he meows. "We must expect a battle."
"And Thunderclan and Riverclan will bear the worst of it," meows Sandstorm. "How many warriors can Windclan offer us after today?"
Her voice is troubled, but Graystar knows that, with or without Windclan, every cat in Thunderclan would fight beside him bravely. And Riverclan will be beside them.
The fiery light is dying.
Graystar turns to gaze across his beloved forest.
A single star glitters in the violet sky. Is that you, Bluestar? He asks silently. Are you still watching over us?
Fervently he hopes that his former leader is still protecting the clan she loves. If they survive the next day's meeting with Tigerstar, and manage to stay free from his quest for absolute power, it would be because Starclan knows that the forest needs four clans.
Everything is still and silent. There is no breeze to ruffle the cats' fur, no sound of prey scuffling among the rocks. Graytar feels as if the whole forest is holding its breath, waiting for the coming dawn.
"I love you, Sandstorm," he murmurs, pushing his muzzle against her side. Sandstorm turns her head to meet his gaze, her green eyes glowing.
"I love you, too," she replies. "And I know that you'll bring us through tomorrow, whatever happens."
Graystar wishes he can share her conviction. But he lets himself be soothed by her trust in him.
"We need to go and rest," he mews.
The chill of night is gathering by the time they reached the ravine. Frost already sparkles on the grass and the surface of the rocks.
As Graystar emerges from the gorse tunnel, a pale shape looms out of the darkness.
"I was starting to worry about you," Longtail meows. "I thought you might have run into trouble because of how late it is."
"No, we're fine," Gray replies. "There isn't even a mouse stirring out there."
"Pity. We could do with a few." Longtail gives Graystar a quick report on the patrols he has sent out and the watch he has set on the camp.
"You get some sleep," he finishes. "It's going to be a tough day tomorrow."
"I will," Graystar agrees. "Thanks, Longtail. And make sure you get some rest too." He adds as his deputy fades back into the darkness again. "I'm going to check on the sentries," he meows as he retreats.
"You couldn't have chosen a better deputy," Sandstorm comments when Longtail is out of earshot.
"I know. I don't know what I'd do without him."
Sandstorm looks at Graystar, sadness, and wisdom in her green eyes.
"You might find out tomorrow," she meowed. "Or any of the others. If Tigerstar makes us fight, cats are going to die, Graystar."
"I know."
Some of the sleeping cats around him, the friends he loves, and the warriors he trusts, might be lost to him. Win or lose, some of the cats Graystar leads out to battle will not come back. And they will die because he has ordered them to fight.
A pang of grief shakes him, so deep and painful that he almost wails aloud.
"I know," he repeats. "But what can I do?"
"Go on." Sandstorm's voice is soft. "You're our leader, Graystar. You have to do your duty. And you do it brilliantly."
Humbled, Graystar finds nothing to say, and after a moment Sandstorm presses her muzzle against his.
"I'd better get some sleep," she murmurs.
"No, wait." Graystar finds he can not face the prospect of that solitary den underneath the Highrock, full of shadows.
"I don't want to be alone tonight. Come and share my den with me."
The ginger she-cat dips her head.
"All right, if you want me to."
Graystar gives her ear a quick lick and leads the way across the clearing. Even though the curtain of lichen over the entrance to the den has still not grown back after the fire, the den lies in deep shadow. More by scent than sight Graystar realizes that one of the apprentices has left fresh-kill for him, and he remembers how hungry he is.
The prey is a rabbit; he and Sandstorm crouch side by side to share it, swallowing with quick, famished gulps.
"I needed that," Sandstorm purrs, extending her front paws and arching her back in a long, luxurious stretch. Then she yawns.
"I could sleep for a moon."
Graystar arranges his mossy bedding to make a sleeping place for her, and she curls up and closes her eyes.
"Good night, Graystar," she murmurs.
He touches his nose to her fur. "
Good night."
Soon her soft, regular breathing tells him she is asleep. For all his weariness, Graystar does not feel ready to curl up beside her. Instead, he sits watching while the moon rises and spills pale light through the entrance to the den, touching Sandstorm's fur to silver.
She is so beautiful, Graystar thinks, so precious to him. And yet she too might die tomorrow. This is what it means to be a leader, he realizes. He does not know if he can endure the pain of it, even though he knows that when dawn comes, he will take up the burden Starclan has laid on him.
Please, Starclan, help me to bear it well, he thinks as he settles himself into the moss beside Sandstorm. He takes comfort from the warmth of her fur as he lets sleep claim him at last.