by Erin Hunter
Squirrelflight stared toward the sound, her mouth opening as though she could hardly believe her ears.
Rootspring lowered his gaze. “Tree always says that every ending is a beginning.”
Squirrelflight looked away, trembling.
Bristlefrost padded closer. She couldn’t let Squirrelflight give in to grief yet. “Now it’s time to rebuild Thunderclan.”
Chapter 24
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Shadowsight stiffened as Ashfur lifted his head and jerked his muzzle around, staring at the entrance to the bramble enclosure. Shadowsight had been watching the dark warrior as he’d slept, as still as dead prey. Now Ashfur sat up, his ears twitching as though a nightmare had woken him, and Shadowsight’s pelt bristled along his spine. He strained to hear beyond the rustle of wind in the pines. The forest seemed to sleep, wrapped in moonhigh silence. Only a bird called, far away between the trees.
Ashfur got to his paws, his posture stiff and his eyes wide—he looked like a hunted animal. He tasted the air. “Something’s changed.” His gaze bore into Shadowsight’s. “They’re coming for me.”
Shadowsight tried to push away the fear welling in his chest. He knew the Clans were meeting to decide Ashfur’s fate. Had they decided the dark warrior must die? He glanced toward the entrance to the bramble enclosure. Stonewing and Grassheart were sitting guard. Their pelts were smooth, their shoulders relaxed. “You must have imagined a noise,” he mewed, hoping it was true.
Ashfur thrust his muzzle closer. “They’re coming for me,” he growled. “I can sense it.”
Shadowsight backed away, fighting back fear. “I can’t hear anything.” But so many cats wanted the dark warrior dead that he couldn’t help feeling Ashfur was right. His thoughts whirled. Perhaps they should kill Ashfur. He had hurt so many cats and caused the death of more. He tried to kill me. It was dangerous to keep him alive. If Ashfur died, Shadowsight wouldn’t have to care for him anymore. He’d felt his Clanmates’ reproachful gaze each time he carried herbs to tend the prisoner’s wounds. They hadn’t forgotten that Ashfur had killed Conefoot and Frondwhisker. And, if Ashfur was dead, he wouldn’t have to listen to any more of Ashfur’s sly twisting of the truth. The dark warrior had told Shadowsight again and again that he would never be a medicine cat, that his Clanmates would never trust him, that their fates were intertwined. And yet Ashfur mustn’t die, surely? Bramblestar needed his body. And would the Clans be any more than rogues if they could kill a cat in cold blood?
Ashfur leaned closer. His sour breath bathed Shadowsight’s muzzle. “If they kill me, then you’ll never get Bramblestar back.” Trembling, Shadowsight met the dark warrior’s gaze. “You were the one who sent him to the frozen moor to die,” Ashfur pressed. “Do you think any of the Clans will forget that? They’ll see you as Bramblestar’s murderer forever.”
“That’s not true!” Shadowsight lashed his tail, but he knew Ashfur was right. He was Bramblestar’s murderer. Perhaps it was time he accepted it and let go of the hope that the Thunderclan leader could return.
Ashfur stared at him as though he could read Shadowsight’s thoughts.
Shadowsight glared back, refusing to be intimidated. “Why shouldn’t they kill you?” He puffed out his chest. “Bramblestar’s gone! His spirit hasn’t been seen for a moon. You’ve done something with him and he’s never coming back.” Ashfur held his gaze. Nothing showed in the tom’s eyes. “His body isn’t any use to him,” Shadowsight went on. “Why should you have it?”
Ashfur’s gaze glittered, suddenly spiteful. “Are you sure he’s gone?”
What game was Ashfur playing now? “He must be!”
“Why?”
The simple question made Shadowsight stiffen. “If he were still around, he’d have come to the Sisters’ ceremony!”
“What if I didn’t let him?”
Shadowsight felt cold. He could sense Ashfur’s spirit beneath Bramblestar’s flesh as his malignant gaze seemed to burn from the spirit world into this one. “What have you done with him?”
Ashfur’s whiskers twitched. “Didn’t I already warn you not to ask?”
Shadowsight remembered too clearly how, when his spirit had traveled to Bramblestar’s den, he’d seen Ashfur’s spirit rise from the Thunderclan leader’s body. Ashfur’s threat had been clear. You shouldn’t ask what became of Bramblestar. Not unless you want the same thing to happen to you. He pressed his paws into the earth to stop himself trembling. “Let him go.”
“You’re so worried about Bramblestar’s spirit.” Ashfur narrowed his eyes. “Haven’t you wondered about any other cat? Don’t you realize how much power I gained when I discovered how easily I could move between the living world and the dead?”
“What do you mean?” Panic sparked in Shadowsight’s pelt.
“No cat’s spirit is safe from me.”
Who else was Ashfur holding hostage? Shadowsight’s breath caught in his throat.
Ashfur went on. “Have you forgotten Spiresight?” His eyes glittered malevolently.
Spiresight. Shadowsight remembered with a jolt the cat he’d looked up to as a kit, who, as a spirit, had saved him after Ashfur had left him to die in the ravine. As he stared in horror at the dark warrior, Ashfur’s eyes lost Bramblestar’s amber depth and grew pale until they shone yellow in the moonlight. Shadowsight stared, hardly able to believe what he was seeing as he recognized Spiresight’s eyes staring at him from Bramblestar’s face. He saw desperation there as Ashfur dropped into a crouch, his shoulders hunching in fear until Shadowsight knew he was no longer seeing the dark warrior, but Spiresight trapped beneath Bramblestar’s pelt.
“Listen to him.” Spiresight’s mew was helpless with terror. “He has us all—” His mew broke into a gasp as he struggled to go on. “He’ll force us to—”
His eyes closed and Bramblestar’s body uncurled as Ashfur seemed once more to claim it, driving out Spiresight’s spirit as though chasing prey from its nest.
Shadowsight fought to control the dread surging deep within his chest. “What was that?”
“That was a warning.” Ashfur stared at him. “I want you to realize how much is at stake and what will happen to the spirits I control if you let Tigerstar and the others hurt me.”
“How do I know it’s true?” Shadowsight forced his chin high. Ashfur had been trying to manipulate him from the start. “How do I know you’re not faking this, too?”
Ashfur’s pelt prickled angrily. As Shadowsight watched, his body began to change once more, this time straightening until Ashfur stood tall, his head high, pride showing in the smooth curve of his tail. Shadowsight’s eyes widened as he recognized Bramblestar’s posture. Warmth suddenly glowed in the impostor’s gaze as though it was really Bramblestar staring back at him.
Bramblestar stretched his muzzle until it was a mouse-length from Shadowsight’s. “Do you believe Ashfur could fake this?”
Shadowsight’s heart quickened. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. Ashfur was a liar down to his bones. He was twisted enough to do something like this, and yet could he really make Bramblestar’s body look like a true warrior, as he was doing now, when he had the heart of a fox?
When Shadowsight didn’t reply, Bramblestar went on. “Don’t you think Ashfur has a plan? He wouldn’t come back unless he thought he could get what he wanted. But he needs me to make it happen, and he can’t get rid of me until he has what he wants. I’m still here. You didn’t kill me.”
Shadowsight’s heart seemed to melt with relief as he heard Bramblestar’s words. I’m not a murderer.
Bramblestar’s gaze burned hotter. “But if my body dies, I die with it.” His muzzle was a whisker from Shadowsight now. “There will be no chance to get me back.”
Shadowsight pulled away, his mind buzzing. Was this just a trick by Ashfur to convince him to help him escape? Or was Bramblestar really pleading with him to keep him alive? Ashfur had convinced his whole Clan that he was Bramblestar
for a while. Why couldn’t he convince me? And yet, if there was a chance to save Bramblestar, shouldn’t Shadowsight grasp it?
A yowl ripped through the still night air. Tigerstar. Shadowsight jerked his muzzle around as paw steps thrummed beyond the camp wall. The Clans were coming. He could smell their scents. And, from the fierceness of his father’s cry, he guessed they were coming for Ashfur.
The dark warrior slumped to the ground. Shadowsight stared at him. His eyes were closed, his body limp. Shadowsight poked him with a paw. He was breathing, but they were long, deep breaths, as though he was sleeping.
The brambles shivered as Lionblaze stalked into the enclosure. The Thunderclan deputy’s angry gaze flitted past Shadowsight and stopped as it reached Ashfur. Lionblaze curled his lip. “The leaders have voted,” he told Shadowsight.
Shadowsight stared at him, his mouth too dry to answer.
“I’ve sent the guards away,” Lionblaze told him.
“Where’s Tigerstar?” Forcing himself to speak, Shadowsight glanced past Lionblaze. Surely the Thunderclan deputy didn’t plan to kill Ashfur alone.
“He’s outside with Mistystar, Harestar, and Leafstar,” Lionblaze told him. “They’ll join me once you’ve left.” His eyes were dark with determination. “Go and wait with the rest of the patrol outside camp.”
“Lionblaze.” Tigerstar’s mew sounded beyond the enclosure walls.
Lionblaze frowned and turned toward it. “What?” He padded from the enclosure.
As he disappeared, Ashfur scrambled to his paws. “You know what to do?”
Shadowsight blinked at him, wondering whose voice was speaking now. It sounded like Ashfur, Bramblestar, and Spiresight all at once, as though the impostor held all their spirits.
Ashfur stared urgently at Shadowsight. “You have no choice,” he hissed. “Bramblestar will die forever, and you’ll have killed him.”
Shadowsight closed his eyes for a moment, his heart feeling as though it would burst as horror pressed into it like stone. Then he turned and padded from the enclosure.
The camp was empty, the guards gone. Only the leaders and Thunderclan’s deputy remained. Lionblaze and Tigerstar were talking in heated whispers at the edge of the clearing, while Mistystar, Harestar, and Leafstar shifted nervously beside them.
“Are you sure you want to act for Squirrelflight in this?” Tigerstar gazed questioningly at Lionblaze.
“Thunderclan must take as much responsibility as the other Clans,” Lionblaze growled.
Shadowsight hurried toward them. “Before you do anything,” he called, “there’s something you should know.” He padded past them, drawing their gaze from the bramble enclosure.
His heart pounded in his ears as they stared at him, their eyes bright with curiosity.
“Is something wrong?” Tigerstar leaned closer.
Leafstar pricked her ears.
“Ashfur isn’t . . .” Shadowsight hesitated, letting his gaze flit from one leader to another. They stared at him. Harestar frowned as he let the pause lengthen.
“Spit it out!” As Lionblaze snarled, Shadowsight saw a shadow slip from the bramble enclosure. It flitted across the camp and headed for the dirtplace tunnel. He looked back at the leaders, but it was too late. Lionblaze’s gaze had followed his. It jerked toward the narrow gap in the camp wall as a dark tabby tail disappeared into the darkness.
Lionblaze’s pelt spiked. He swung his muzzle back to Shadowsight. Shadowsight backed away as the golden warrior unsheathed his claws. Eyes glittering, Lionblaze shook with rage.
“What in StarClan have you done?”
Chapter 25
Rootspring watched Squirrelflight push her way through the ferns, her orange pelt no more than a pale shadow between the leaves. The yowls from the ShadowClan camp had died away, and he shivered as he wondered what had happened there once the patrol had arrived. Was Ashfur dead? He wondered suddenly if Bramblestar was still wandering the forest. Would he know that his body had been killed—that he had nowhere to return to now? Rootspring longed to see him again, to speak to him, to apologize. I failed him.
Bristlefrost shifted beside him, her gaze following Squirrelflight as the Thunderclan leader disappeared into the trees. “Where do you think she’s going?”
“She said she wanted to go where she can be close to Bramblestar.” Rootspring remembered the grief sparkling in Squirrelflight’s eyes. “The real Bramblestar.”
“But we don’t know where the real Bramblestar is.” Bristlefrost blinked at him.
Rootspring gazed between the trees. “I think she’s heading for the Moonpool,” he mewed softly. “It’s as close as any cat can get to StarClan now.”
Bristlefrost tipped her head to one side. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Rootspring hardly heard her. A shaft of moonlight had caught Bristlefrost’s cheek, so that her fur shimmered with silvery light. Her blue-green eyes were round, their dark centers wide. She looked frightened. Was he really going to live the rest of his life without her? He fought the urge to wrap his tail around her and draw her close. If she lived in a different Clan, how would he ever know she was safe?
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Bristlefrost mewed again, her eyes growing wider.
“Eventually,” he murmured. “She’s accepted that Bramblestar won’t ever return to the lake. She can begin to mourn properly now.”
Bristlefrost’s eyes glistened. “Her heart must be broken.”
Yes. Rootspring’s heart ached too, for Squirrelflight and for himself. The Thunderclan leader had lost a mate she’d loved for countless moons. He was losing the future he’d hoped he’d spend with Bristlefrost. His throat tightened as he fought back grief. Bristlefrost was beside him now. He wanted to press close to her and feel her warmth. It might be the last chance they ever had to be alone. Instead he moved away. “I’m going to follow her,” he mewed. “I think I can help.”
“Shall I come?” Bristlefrost lifted her chin eagerly.
He shook his head. “I want to share with her what I learned from the Sisters,” he explained. “It might be a comfort, to hear how the dead stay with the Sisters after they’re gone, to continue their journey alongside them.”
He saw tenderness in Bristlefrost’s gaze.
“You’re very kind,” she breathed.
He dropped his gaze as heartache overwhelmed him. “I just want to make it easier for her.”
Bristlefrost leaned closer. “Let me help too.”
Rootspring turned away. “It’s probably best she doesn’t see a Thunderclan cat right now,” he mewed hoarsely. “She has to be strong for her Clanmates; she won’t want you to see her so weak with grief.”
Bristlefrost reached out her muzzle and touched it to his shoulder. “Be careful,” she whispered. “The Moonpool’s a long way.”
He felt the warmth of her breath in his fur. “I’ll be fine.” His mew was husky. Padding away from her, he didn’t dare look back. They would never be mates now. This was as close as they’d ever be.
He felt as though he’d left his heart behind as he headed between the trees. There was an empty space in his chest, aching at its loss. He ignored the pain, forcing himself to focus on Squirrelflight’s scent instead.
Tracking it along a rise, he followed it past the ditches, which cut furrows through ShadowClan’s forest like claw marks. The scent was harder to trace as it reached Thunderclan territory, masked by other Thunderclan scents, but Rootspring kept his head low, opening his mouth to let the night air bathe his tongue, and found traces where Squirrelflight had skirted the SkyClan border. She was clearly heading for the far side of Thunderclan’s forest, where trees gave way to moorland. He felt sure now he’d been right. She was going to the Moonpool.
He slid from the trees, padding into moonlight, and crossed the short stretch of grassy moor that led to a stream. Pausing, he scanned the hillside, where the stream cut a rock-lined path up to the Moonpool hollow. A shape moved among the boulders far
ahead. Was that Squirrelflight? The shape moved in and out of the shadow of the rocks, weaving among them as it followed the stream. It must be.
Rootspring quickened his pace, not wanting to lose sight of her. The stream chattered beside him as he scrambled over the rocks. A breeze rolled down from the high moor, fragrant with heather scents. It slicked his pelt against his skin, and he lowered his head, moving quickly as he neared the waterfall that reached from the streambed to the lip of the Moonpool hollow. Squirrelflight was already climbing it. He could see her ginger pelt in the starlight now as she leaped from boulder to boulder and hauled herself up over the edge.
As the moon silhouetted her at the top, Rootspring hurried to the base of the waterfall and began to scramble up. He paused as Squirrelflight sat down, her head drooping. He ducked into the shadow of a rock and watched her as she sank into grief. He couldn’t approach her now. The words he’d wanted to share about the Sisters and their connection to the spirits of their ancestors seemed suddenly empty. Perhaps they’d be a comfort later, but right now she needed to be alone, to remember Bramblestar and mourn his passing.
A tabby pelt moved at the edge of the hollow. Rootspring stiffened as he recognized the broad shoulders and wide head of a tom. He was padding along the edge of the hollow, his gaze fixed on Squirrelflight. Bramblestar? Rootspring narrowed his eyes. It looked exactly like him. Had his spirit found a way back to comfort his mate? Squirrelflight lifted her head and saw the tom heading toward her. Rootspring’s heart leaped with hope as he saw her eyes light up.
Then she frowned, her pelt spiking along her spine.
Horror gripped Rootspring. It’s not Bramblestar. . . . His paws sparked with dread as the tabby slowed and stopped a tail-length from Squirrelflight.
“I’m giving you one last chance.” The tom’s mew was edged with a threat.
Ashfur! Rootspring stared at the dark warrior. How had he escaped from the ShadowClan camp?