Chapter 25

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After they said good bye to Olive, Brightheart went off to hunt, leaving Sandstar to return to the camp alone. Twilight was gathering by the time he reached the ravine, and he scented Brindleface before he spotted the pale gray tabby warrior ahead of him. Sandstar caught up to him just before he reached the gorse tunnel; he had a vole clamped in his jaws, and set it down when he saw Sandstar.

"I was hoping for a word with you," he began, without even waiting for a greeting. "And it's best out here, where no cat will overhear us."

Sandstar's heart lurched. "What's the matter? Has something gone wrong?"

"You mean apart from Scourge?" the older warrior meowed wryly. He settled himself on a flat rock and beckoned with his tail for Sandstar to join him. "No, nothing's wrong. The patrols and the training are going well... but I keep asking myself, have we really thought about what we're doing?"

Sandstar stared at him. "What do you mean?"

The Thunderclan deputy took a deep, painful breath. "Scourge and her Clan outnumber us by many, even with Windclan fighting on our side. I know your warriors will fight to the last drop of blood to save the forest, but perhaps the price will be too high."

"Are you saying we should give in?" Sandstar's voice sharpened, he had never expected to hear advice like this from his deputy. If Brindleface's courage hadn't been beyond question, he would have said it was the speech of a coward. "Leave the forest?"

"I don't know." Brindleface sounded tired, and Sandstar was suddenly reminded of his age. "Things are changing, no cat can deny that, and perhaps it's time to move on. There must be territory beyond Highstones. We could find another place—"

"Never!" Sandstar interrupted. "The forest is ours."

"You're young." Brindleface looked solemnly at him. "You would see it that way. But cats are going to die, Sandstar."

"I know." All day Sandstar had kept busy, encouraging his warriors—and himself—with thoughts of a victory over Scourge. Now Brindleface was forcing him to face the fact that even if they won, it would be at a terrible cost. Thunderclan might drive the invading cats from the forest and still be left with few survivors, as weakened as if they had been defeated.

"We must go on," he meowed. "We can't turn tail and run like mice. You're right, Brindleface, I know you are, but what other choice have we? It can't be the will of Starclan for us to leave the forest."

Brindleface nodded. "I thought you would say that. Well, I've told you what I think. That's what a deputy's for."

"I'm grateful for it, Brindleface."

The pale gray tabby warrior rose to his paws, turned toward his vole, and then glanced back at Sandstar. "I've never had the kind of ambition that drove Goldenstar—or you," he meowed. "I've never wanted to be leader. But I'm particularly glad I'm not leader now. No sane cat would envy you the decisions you have to make."

Sandstar blinked, not knowing what to say.

"All I hope for," Brindleface went on, "is that I'll fight my hardest when the time comes."

A shadow of uncertainty crossed his face, and Sandstar realized that many cats would have joined the elders by Brindleface's age. It would be natural for him to fear that his fighting strength might fail.

"I know you will," he agreed. "There's no nobler warrior in the whole forest."

Brindleface held his gaze for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he picked up his vole and padded into the camp.

Sandstar stayed on the rock. Brindleface's words had disturbed him, and he was suddenly reluctant to go back into camp and settle in his shadowy den under the Highrock. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

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