The Night Circle (The Red Tide #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Blossomstar lay in the center of the clearing, her thick tortoiseshell fur slicked to her body by the pounding rain. She was so much thinner than Fernpaw remembered; he had seen her sick, but the Clan hadn't been permitted to visit in nearly a half-moon for fear of it spreading. Her once-lively green eyes was closed now, and Fernpaw knew that if he lifted their lids, they would be dull and sightless.

Despite the rain, the Clan was gathered around their leader's body, eyes hollow with grief. Each member stood, one at a time, to touch their nose to her fur and murmur good wishes. "Good hunting," some whispered; "swift running," called others. When it was Fernpaw's turn, he pressed his muzzle softly to her flank and murmured "Find rest."

Though she was their leader, he hadn't known her well. She called meetings and went on patrol and was a very memorable presence, but he had never had many one-on-one conversations with her. "Find rest" was the best he could do.

Sleetstep leaped onto the Pine Branch, his gray-spotted tail swishing as he stood.
"Let all cats gather beneath the Pine Branch!" he yowled. The Clan was already gathered, except for Echodawn, who had stayed back with the Clan's kits. She slid out of the nursery and took a place beside Mossfire, turning her face toward her mate.

"Today we gather to grieve our precious leader, Blossomstar," he spoke, "she was brave and intelligent, and we will remember her for as long as we live. Tonight we mourn, but we must also elect a new deputy. Any warrior who has trained an apprentice, who wishes to be in the running, please step forward."

Fernpaw swallowed, wondering who would step forward. He didn't have to wait long, though. Four cats stepped from the crowd, heads and tails high.

Hareleap was the Clan's most senior warrior, but he was still energetic and healthy, and full of experience. His brown and white fur was slicked to his sides, but muscle clearly rippled beneath his fur. He took his place beneath the tree first, amber eyes full of grief and determination.

Next came Featherdust. The gray and white she-cat was a well-liked older warrior as well, known for her sharp tongue and level head. She looked as calm as ever under the scrutiny of her Clan.

There were some younger warriors in the running too. Scalefeather, though sometimes known for her temper, was a strong leader and good strategist, as well as Sleetstep's sister. She took her spot boldly but with grace, black and gray tail flicking slowly behind her.

Chivefall was the last cat to join the election. He was very popular with their leader and a well-respected cat, though personally he made Fernpaw a bit nervous. He looked over the Clan with a cold gaze, as if he had no emotions at all.

"Now that we have our four contestants," Sleetstep meowed, "pass around the pebbles."

Darkflame, the older of the medicine cats, came forward with a leaf wrap of pebbles. He came around to each warrior and apprentice and dropped a pebble between their paws. The leader, of course, couldn't vote, nor could the candidates or kits, but everyone else was eligible. Fernpaw stroked his pebble, his heart hammering in his chest. Who should he pick? He fixed his eyes on the rock, which was gray with flecks of shimmering blue.

The Clan formed a line behind the four candidates, and each cat placed their pebble in one of the candidates' leaves. Fernpaw watched his mother, Creekfeather, set her stone on Scalefeather's leaf. He glanced at his siblings standing beside him, who looked so much more sure than he felt. Honeypaw was watching Scalefeather with a gleam in her eye, and Blizzardpaw's gaze, surprisingly, was fixed on Chivefall.

When it was their turn, Honeypaw and Blizzardpaw moved confidently toward their chosen candidates, but Fernpaw took a moment to study all four. Chivefall was off the table, but Scalefeather was a possibility. His mother and sister had picked her, so she must be a good choice. Hesitantly, he stepped toward her and placed his pebble on her pile, then darted back into the crowd.

As the last few cats placed their stones on piles, the top contenders were painfully clear. Hareleap and Featherdust's piles were pitifully small. Chivefall and Scalefeather, however, had large, similarly sized piles; Fernpaw couldn't tell at a glance who would win.

Sleetstep and Darkflame stepped forward and each counted both piles, before coming together and whispering quietly. When the medicine cat stepped away, Fernpaw noticed a split second flash of fury in Sleetstep's face that sent shivers down his spine.

Sleetstep leaped onto the Pine Branch again and signaled for silence. The only sound was the pattering of the rain on the leaves above them as the Clan prepared to hear the verdict. Fernpaw's own heart was racing in time with the rain as he watched.

"The winner of the election is Scalefeather!"

Cheers erupted from the Clan, and Scalefeather's family and friends came forward to congratulate her. Chivefall stalked away, tail lashing with anger, but Hareleap and Featherdust stepped away gracefully from their piles and dipped their heads to their victorious opponent.

As the clamor died down, Sleetstep swished his tail for quiet again.
"Darkflame and I will use the meeting stone and share dreams with StarClan tonight. Tomorrow, I shall be known as Sleetstar!" Yowls of support rose from the Clan, and Fernpaw joined his voice to the rest.

"Sleetstar! Sleetstar! Sleetstar!"

A hawk flew overhead, its wings beating silently as it hovered above the Clan. Its sharp, hooked beak snapped as it watched Sleetstar on the branch. No one, not even Fernpaw, looked up to see the great bird, and within a few moments, it ruffled its wings and swooped majestically away.