by Erin Hunter
The memory sent a fresh shiver through Rootspring’s pelt. If StarClan was fading, where could the dead warriors go? And if there was no StarClan to go to and they weren’t ghosts in the forest, where were they? The leaders could stand here and talk of honor and forgiveness, but the impostor might have already done more damage than could be fixed. He might have severed the Clans’ connection to StarClan forever and taken from the dead their last place to wander. What were warriors without StarClan? They were no more than rogues.
Rootspring gazed harder into the shadows around the clearing, willing himself to glimpse a ghostly pelt moving beneath the trees, but he saw only darkness. He felt suddenly hollow, as though claws had ripped out his heart. He flinched as Snowbird let out a wail. Squirrelflight had finished talking, and Spotfur and Blossomfall lifted their voices to join Snowbird in her grief. Rootspring stared at them, his mouth dry. Without StarClan, they might never see their loved ones again. Without StarClan, this grief might just be the beginning.
Rootspring was thankful for the warmth of Violetshine’s pelt as he huddled beside her. They had kept vigil all night, and dawn was beginning to show itself in the surface of the lake.
In the middle of the clearing, Squirrelflight stood and stretched. Tigerstar straightened beside her. Harestar lifted his gaze to meet the ShadowClan leader’s and nodded as though agreeing. Together they headed for the Great Oak, picking their way through the circle of cats who still crouched in the pale dawn light. Squirrelflight and Leafstar followed, and the four leaders stopped beneath the ancient tree and began to talk softly among themselves. Rootspring watched them, interest pricking through his fur. Were they discussing what to do with the impostor?
Around Rootspring, the Clan cats were moving, stretching away the stiffness of the long night’s vigil.
Tree was lapping at Violetshine’s pelt. “You’ll feel warmer once we head home,” he told her.
“I hope the sun comes up soon.” Violetshine fluffed out her fur, as though soon wasn’t quick enough.
A pale gray pelt caught Rootspring’s eye as Bristlefrost stretched, arching her back until her tail trembled. Spotfur was hunched beside her. Bristlefrost nosed the warrior gently to her paws.
Rootspring hurried to speak to them. This could be the only chance he had to talk to Bristlefrost until the next Gathering, and he’d grown used to spending time with her. Standing shoulder to shoulder with her against the impostor, he’d felt they were almost Clanmates. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he told Spotfur as he reached them. “Stemleaf was a brave warrior.”
“Thank you.” Spotfur returned his gaze, grief glittering afresh in her eyes. “He was.” She turned away and headed toward Blossomfall, who’d found a spot at the edge of the clearing where sunlight was beginning to filter between the trees.
Bristlefrost gazed sadly after her. “She’s so upset,” she mewed.
Rootspring wished he could think of something to say to cheer Bristlefrost up. “She loved him a lot,” he mumbled awkwardly.
Bristlefrost looked at him suddenly. “I feel kind of guilty.”
Rootspring blinked, surprised. None of this was her fault. She’d done everything she could to protect her Clanmates. “Why?”
“I feel like I should have mourned him more.”
“Who? Stemleaf?” Rootspring was puzzled.
“I feel bad that I got over him,” she explained. “I had such a crush. I thought I’d love him forever, like Spotfur does. But seeing the way Spotfur is still grieving for him makes me think that what I felt wasn’t love at all.” She looked again at her Clanmate, who was staring blankly across the lake now.
“I guess you’ve just grown up,” Rootspring suggested. “We all change as we get older.” He went on without thinking. “I remember what it was like to have an apprentice crush.”
She turned back to him. “Did you get over yours?” They both knew he’d had a crush on her since she’d rescued him from drowning as a ’paw. Was she worried he didn’t like her anymore? She must know that wasn’t true.
“Of course not,” he mewed, surprised that he no longer felt embarrassed by his feelings for her. He’d been teased about them for moons, but he knew now that she shared them. There was no point telling her again. They’d decided ages ago that they could never be mates because they were from different Clans. There was enough trouble for the Clans to deal with without the two of them causing more.
She returned his gaze fondly for a moment, then glanced at Snaptooth and Flywhisker as they padded past. “It’s weird in Thunderclan right now,” she confided as her Clanmates moved out of earshot. “Everyone is trying to get along, but it’s hard to forget that some of us left the Clan and some of us stayed. No cat says anything, but you can feel it.”
Rootspring’s pelt twitched guiltily. SkyClan had never felt more united. They’d stood against the impostor together. “I’m sure Squirrelflight will fix it.”
“I hope she can.” Bristlefrost didn’t look convinced. “But how can she lead Thunderclan when StarClan hasn’t given her nine lives yet? What if the Clan loses faith in her?”
“They won’t,” Rootspring told her. “She’s strong. We’ve all seen that. And she has warriors like you to support her.”
“I guess,” Bristlefrost conceded. “But there are tough times ahead. Knowing who the impostor is doesn’t mean that we can defeat him.”
“We can.” Rootspring hoped it was true. He tried to push away the fears that had haunted him last night. “We’ll defeat him and StarClan will come back and everything will go back to normal.”
“What about Bramblestar?” Bristlefrost asked nervously. “Will he ever come back?”
“Of course,” Rootspring told her breezily. “Once we’ve gotten rid of Ashfur.” He held Bristlefrost’s gaze, trying to look positive, but he could see she felt as doubtful as he did.
She lifted her chin suddenly. “Yes,” she stated firmly. “It’ll all be okay.”
“There’s no harm in hoping for the best,” Rootspring said.
She purred, only her eyes betraying worry. “Even if it’s not possible.”
The leaders had finished their discussion. Squirrelflight’s Clanmates were following her toward the tree-bridge. Tigerstar had called his warriors close while Harestar headed for the long grass.
Bristlefrost turned away. “I’d better go,” she mewed. “See you soon.”
“Take care of yourself,” Rootspring called after her as she padded behind her Clanmates.
“You too,” she called back, swishing her tail. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”
Leafstar lingered in the clearing as the other Clans headed home. SkyClan paced around her, clearly trying to warm themselves up. Violetshine stayed close to Plumwillow, her anxious gaze on her grieving denmate. Tree sat a little apart, watching the sun lift above the distant hills. Rootspring padded to his side and, as Leafstar finally began to lead the way from the island, stuck close to him. They hadn’t talked properly since they’d met at the battle, and the vigil had given Rootspring time to think. Cats who had been among them a quarter moon ago were gone now, and their Clanmates might never see them again. He’d realized that there was so much he wanted to say to his father while he still had the chance.
As they padded through the long grass and crossed the tree-bridge, he didn’t speak, but just let his pelt brush against Tree’s. But once they reached the shore, he slowed his pace to let their Clanmates pull ahead, and he was relieved when Tree slowed too. Violetshine stayed close to Plumwillow, and before long, Rootspring and Tree were trailing behind the rest of the patrol.
“It was a long night,” Rootspring began casually, his gaze on the tiny waves rippling over the beach.
“Yes.” Stones crunched beneath Tree’s paws.
“I was hoping I’d see some spirits.” Rootspring glanced at Tree. Had his father seen any ghosts?
“I guess they didn’t want to be at their own vigil,” Tree mewed grimly.
&
nbsp; “I guess not.” Hope pricked in his heart. Perhaps they’d come later. Or perhaps they’d found StarClan after all. They walked on in silence for a while longer as Rootspring searched for words. At last he found them. “I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me,” he mewed softly.
Tree glanced at him. “Sticking up for you?” He looked puzzled.
“When you pretended to be the one who was speaking to the ghost so I didn’t have to admit that I could see it too.”
Tree shrugged. “I just wanted to make it easy for you,” he mewed.
“But you didn’t have to.” Rootspring stopped. “And I wanted you to know I appreciated it.”
Tree paused and looked back. Affection shone in his gaze. “It’s what any father would do,” he mewed huskily. “You’ll find out when you have kits of your own.”
Ahead, the patrol had left the shore and disappeared into the forest where the path led toward SkyClan’s camp in the hills beyond Thunderclan’s land. Tree flicked his muzzle toward the ferns, which were still shivering where their Clanmates had passed. “Come on,” he mewed. “We’d better catch up.”
As Rootspring nodded and began to head toward the trees, a shape shimmered at the edge of his vision. Jerking his muzzle toward it, he froze, his pelt spiking along his spine.
“What’s wrong?” Tree stared at him, then followed his gaze.
Rootspring held his breath. Could his father see it?
Tree’s hackles lifted and Rootspring knew it must be real. A ghost cat was watching them from farther up the shore, its outline so hazy it was hard to see.
Bramblestar? Had the Thunderclan leader’s ghost returned at last? He squinted harder, peering past the haze. No. It wasn’t Bramblestar. It was a she-cat.
The ghost cat noticed them watching it and padded closer. As she neared, she seemed to grow more solid, as though she had decided to let herself be seen. Her ears pricked with interest. Rootspring guessed she was a kittypet. Her pelt looked as soft as a kit’s, and a warrior—even a ghostly one—would never approach so carelessly.
Tree let his hackles fall. As he lifted his tail in a friendly greeting, Rootspring did the same.
“Hi,” Tree mewed. “I haven’t seen you before.”
The kittypet looked surprised. “I’m surprised you can see me now.” She looked from Tree to Rootspring, her eyes growing even wider as she seemed to realize that Rootspring was staring at her too. “Can you both see me?”
“Yes.” Tree dipped his head politely.
“But how?” The kittypet frowned, clearly puzzled. “Living cats usually can’t.”
We’re different. Rootspring stopped himself before he could say it out loud. He was used to seeing ghosts now, but he wasn’t ready to admit to this strange kittypet that he wasn’t an ordinary warrior. Instead he shrugged. “I don’t know. We just can.”
“You’re warriors, right?” the kittypet mewed.
Rootspring nodded. “Have you seen warriors before?”
“Of course.” She blinked. “They’re all around the lake.”
“What’s your name?” Tree asked.
“Cheddar.”
Rootspring’s ears pricked. What a weird name.
Tree didn’t seem surprised. “I’m Tree, and this is Rootspring.”
“Hi.” She lapped her shoulder fiercely as though responding to a sudden itch.
Rootspring wondered if ghost cats had ghost fleas. His thoughts began to quicken. If she was a ghost, and he was seeing her, then he could be sure he still had the power to see the dead. So where were the warriors who’d been killed in the battle? If they weren’t in StarClan, perhaps they were just keeping their distance from their living Clanmates. “Have you seen any other spirit cats around here?” he asked Cheddar.
Her gaze flitted along the shore, as though she was searching. “No,” she mewed at last, bringing her gaze back to Rootspring. “It’s just me most of the time.”
Tree leaned forward. “Most of the time?” he echoed.
“I’ve seen some other cats around recently, but they fade in and out.” Cheddar frowned. “It’s like they can’t decide whether to be ghosts or not.”
They fade in and out. Dread pressed at the edge of Rootspring’s thoughts. Did that mean they were close to disappearing altogether? “What did they look like?” he pressed.
“Some were gray; some were tabby,” Cheddar told him. “There was a brown tom with ginger legs.”
Sandynose? Rootspring’s heart lurched.
Tree must have recognized the description as well. He glanced at Rootspring.
“Do you know them?” Cheddar’s eyes widened.
“We lost some Clanmates recently,” Tree explained.
“I’ve never seen ghosts fade like that before.” Cheddar’s ears twitched nervously. “Do you know what’s happening to them?”
“They might be trying to join their Clanmates in StarClan,” Tree suggested.
“Is that where dead warriors go?” Cheddar asked.
Rootspring nodded, wondering if Tree might be right. Were the dead warriors trying to get to StarClan?
“StarClan must be a creepy place, because they looked scared.” Cheddar’s pelt was spiking across her shoulders now.
Scared? Rootspring’s heart quickened.
“Perhaps they were just fading into nothing.” The kittypet’s eyes rounded with fear. “Will that happen to me too? Dying was bad enough—I don’t want to disappear forever!”
“You won’t disappear,” Tree promised.
Rootspring wondered how his father could be sure. Did cats without StarClan stick around forever because they had nowhere else to go?
Cheddar blinked at Tree anxiously. “How do you know?”
“You’re not a warrior,” Tree told her.
Do warriors disappear if they can’t find their way to StarClan? Fear dropped like a stone in Rootspring’s belly. With StarClan out of reach, was it possible the dead warriors might simply fade into nothing?
As his thoughts spiraled, Cheddar turned away. Rootspring watched her climb the shore. “If you see them again, tell them we’re trying to help them!” he called after her.
Cheddar looked over her shoulder. “Okay.”
But how? What could he do to make sure the dead Clan cats found their way safely to StarClan? Frustration sparked through his fur. What was the point of having a weird power like seeing ghost cats if he couldn’t help them when they were in danger?
Chapter 4
The mouse moved beneath the scattered leaves, making them quiver. Bristlefrost tensed. I’ll catch it this time. She slammed her paws down, her heart leaping, then felt the mouse slither from her grasp. Again? How? She’d hooked it for sure! Fox dung! Her pelt burned with frustration. Why couldn’t she catch it? She’d caught countless mice before. What was wrong with this one?
Hunger was gnawing at her belly as she hunted for food. She felt like she hadn’t eaten, or slept, for days. If she could just catch this mouse, she’d break her run of bad luck—and then she’d catch another and another. No cat need ever go hungry again. She just had to catch this one mouse.
The scattered leaves rippled again. The mouse was moving beneath them once more. Bristlefrost watched it, following her training, keeping her tail still even though it wanted to whip back and forth as excitement gathered beneath her fur. This time. Determination hardened every muscle. Her claws itched in their sheaths. When the mouse moved, she leaped for it, throwing out her forepaws, grabbing for the shape she could see beneath the leaves. She’d keep hold of it this time! Blood pounded in her ears, bursting into fury as she felt empty earth beneath her claws again. The mouse had vanished.
Her heart sank. How could she catch prey that became invisible in a moment? As she fell back onto her haunches, her ears twitched. Sounds were pawing at her ears—voices, whose words were clear but who sounded oddly . . . distant.
“StarClan will never come back if we don’t do things right!”
Thornclaw
’s angry yowl tugged her wide awake, blinking as the camp swam into view, her memories of hunting mice fading fast. Lionblaze’s sharp reply set her fur prickling.
“Who even knows what’s right anymore?”
“A true warrior knows!” Thornclaw’s growl sounded like an accusation.
Bristlefrost sat up in her nest. Guilt twisted her belly. She’d slipped away for a nap before her border patrol at dusk. She should have stayed awake. She knew how fragile the Clan was at the moment. Now a fight was breaking out. Quickly, she hopped from her nest and poked her head out the entrance of the warriors’ den.
Lionblaze was facing Thornclaw in the middle of the clearing. Afternoon sunshine had turned the Thunderclan deputy’s pelt to gold, but Bristlefrost could see he was fighting to keep his hackles down. Thornclaw stared back at him, ears half flat, anger shining in the tabby’s blue eyes. Their Clanmates watched from the edge.
Ivypool was staring at the two warriors in dismay. Sorrelstripe’s and Dewnose’s eyes rounded with worry. Twigbranch leaned forward, her ears pricked, as though ready to join in; Finleap tried to calm her with a touch of his tail as Bumblestripe paced anxiously beside Flywhisker, Snaptooth, and Flipclaw. The three young warriors’ gazes were sharp with interest.
No sign of Squirrelflight. Bristlefrost glanced up at the Highledge, toward Bramblestar’s den, where Squirrelflight slept alone now. But she didn’t see the acting Thunderclan leader. She must be heading a patrol. Bristlefrost slid out of the den, keeping her distance from Lionblaze and Thornclaw. She wouldn’t intervene yet. An argument might clear the air, as long as it didn’t get out of control.
Lionblaze glared at Thornclaw. “Are you accusing me of not being a true warrior?”
Bristlefrost held her breath. She’d been wrong. This was more than a petty squabble. All around the camp, cats had stopped what they were doing to listen. Even Graystripe had appeared at the entrance to the elders’ den, watching everything with wide eyes.
“Of course not.” Thornclaw looked away, and Bristlefrost breathed out a little as he backed down. But the warrior hadn’t finished. “I just mean, we’re floundering like fish on a riverbank when we should know what to do,” he grunted.