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Sandstorm pressed her flank to Firestar’s. “Bluestar was right. Fire did save the Clan.”
“And now there are four Clans again,” Graystripe added. “Just as there should be.”
No, there are five, Firestar thought. He looked down over the clearing and the tress that stretched as far as he could see, and his senses filled with the sounds and the scents of his forest home. A thousand secret whispers told him that newleaf was stirring in the cold earth, shooting up new green fronds and rousing the prey from its long leaf-bare sleep.
The rising sun broke over the trees and flooded the clearing with light and warmth, and it seemed to Firestar that no dawn had ever been brighter.
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