Chapter 27

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It was the time before dawn when the moon had set, but the sun had yet to streak the horizon with milky fingers of light. The night was still and cold, black like frozen water.

Sandstar padded out of his den. The clearing was empty, but he could hear the faint sounds of warriors waking up. Frost glittered on the ground, while above his head Silverpelt flowed like a river across the sky.

Pausing to drink in the night air filled with the scents of so many familiar cats, Sandstar felt every hair on his pelt stand up. This could be the last morning for any Clan. He felt as if everything were spinning out of his control, but when he looked for strength in the knowledge that Starclan controlled his fate, he found only uncertainty.

Sandstar sighed and shook himself before walking over to the fern tunnel that led to Cinderpelt's den. The medicine cat was dragging herbs and berries into the clearing, where Dustpaw was making them into bundles ready to carry.

"Is everything ready?" Sandstar asked.

"I think so." Pain filled Cinderpelt's blue eyes, as if he were already seeing the wounded cats who would soon need his help. "I'll need more cats to carry all this up to Fourtrees. Dustpaw and I can't manage on our own."

"You can have all the apprentices," Sandstar meowed. "Dustpaw, will you go and tell them?"

The young she-cat dipped her head and hurried off.

"Once we get there, the other apprentices will be needed to fight," Sandstar went on. "But Dustpaw can stay with you. Find somewhere well out of the way. I think there's a sheltered hollow on the other side of the stream—"

Cinderpelt bristled. "Sandstar, you don't mean that? What use will I be if I'm not where the fighting is?"

"But the cats need you," Sandstar insisted. "If you're injured, what happens to the rest of us?"

"Dustpaw and I can take care of ourselves. We're not helpless kits, you know." Cinderpelt's tart response reminded Sandstar of his mentor, Raggedpelt.

Sighing, he padded up to the medicine cat and touched noses with him. "Have it your own way," he meowed. "I know I can't say anything to change your mind. But please... be careful."

Cinderpelt let out a soft purr. "Don't worry, Sandstar. We'll be fine."

"Has Starclan spoken to you about the battle?" Sandstar forced himself to ask.

"No, I've seen no omens at all." The medicine cat raised his eyes to Silverpelt, where it was fading in the predawn sky. "It's not like Starclan to be silent when something so important is going to happen."

"I... I had a dream from them, Cinderpelt," Sandstar told him hesitantly, "but I'm not sure I understand it, and there isn't time to tell you all of it now. I just hope it means something good for us."

There was curiosity in Cinderpelt's blue eyes as he spoke of his dream at Sunningrocks, but he did not question him.

Sandstar returned through the fern tunnel and crossed the clearing to the elders' den. On the way he passed Sorreltail on watch, and waved a greeting with his tail.

When he reached the fallen tree, charred by the fire that had swept through the camp last greenleaf, Sandstar found all the elders still sleeping except for Smallear, who sat with her tail curled around her paws.

The she-cat rose to her paws as Sandstar came toward her. "Is it time?"

"Yes," Sandstar replied. "We'll be leaving soon... but you're not coming with us, Smallear."

"What?" The fur on Smallear's shoulders stiffened with annoyance. "Why not? We may be elders, but we're not useless. Do you really think we're going to sit back and—"

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