The Silent Thaw

by Erin Hunter

  “Was there no vision at all?” Tawnypelt blinked from among the ShadowClan cats.

  “We thought it was the ice that stopped you seeing StarClan!” Hootwhisker yowled, the fur rising along his spine. His Clanmates exchanged nervous glances.

  Kestrelflight shrugged. “Perhaps they have nothing to share with us,” he suggested.

  Alderheart shifted beside him. “We’ve made it through leaf-bare,” he agreed. “If there’s no threat to the Clans, why would StarClan want to share with us?”

  Hopeful murmurs of agreement rippled among the warriors.

  “No news is good news,” Sandynose meowed loudly.

  “Perhaps they want to see if we can manage without them,” Snowbird suggested.

  “Why would they do that?” Tawnypelt looked unconvinced. “They’ve always shared with us in the past. Why would they suddenly stop?”

  In the uneasy silence that followed, Bramblestar frowned. “Has Shadowsight heard anything?”

  “None of us have,” Kestrelflight told him.

  “But Shadowsight has a special connection with StarClan,” Bramblestar pressed. “He was the only medicine cat who shared with them during leaf-bare.” His gaze fixed on the young ShadowClan medicine cat. “Are you sure you’ve heard nothing?”

  Shadowsight stared at his paws, his fur pricking around his shoulders. “I’m sure,” he mumbled.

  Bramblestar swept his gaze around the Clans. “Perhaps StarClan is angry at us for not following the code.”

  Rootpaw stiffened as the gathered cats swapped uneasy glances. Not this again. Bramblestar had mentioned the code at the last Gathering too. His suggestion that cats should accuse one another of crimes against the code had made Tree wonder about leaving the Clans. Did the other Clans think the ThunderClan leader was right?

  Could that be why Bramblestar’s ghost was here now? Had StarClan somehow sent the ghost of his first life to support the living leader’s message? Should I tell some cat? Rootpaw’s pads tingled nervously. There was no way he was telling any cat he could see dead cats. He wasn’t weird like Tree. He glanced at the apparition, wishing it would go away.

  The dead Bramblestar was staring at the living Bramblestar, his ghostly pelt spiked with fury. Why was he angry? Wasn’t he relieved to see he still had a body to return to? And yet how could he return to his body, when he was already in it? Rootpaw’s head began to ache. This was too confusing. He glanced again at the medicine cats. They were trying to contact StarClan, and here was a ghost, walking among them. Surely one of them must see him!

  He stiffened. Alderheart was staring at the apparition. Could he see it? Rootpaw leaned forward eagerly. Why not? Bramblestar was his father. The ThunderClan medicine cat must have a closer connection with the ghost than any cat. Leaves fluttered suddenly from a branch above Bramblestar’s ghost. Rootpaw glimpsed gray fur as a squirrel raced along it and disappeared up the trunk. His heart dropped like a stone as he saw Alderheart’s gaze flash after the squirrel. He was watching prey! Dismayed, Rootpaw swallowed back a sigh. I’m really the only cat who can see it.

  Feeling suddenly alone, Rootpaw stared at the gathered cats. Why me? It’s not fair.

  “That’s nonsense!” Dovewing’s angry mew made him jerk his muzzle toward her. Had he spoken out loud? The ShadowClan cat was staring indignantly at the real Bramblestar. “StarClan would never choose to turn their tails on us,” she called. “Something must be stopping them from making contact.”

  “Well, it’s not ice that’s silencing them,” Jayfeather grunted. “The Moonpool is thawing.”

  Bramblestar stared fiercely back at Dovewing from the Oak. “You just don’t want to believe that StarClan is angry with us for breaking the code,” he snapped. “Because you’re one of the cats who broke it.”

  Tigerstar bristled beside the ThunderClan leader. “Don’t talk to her like that—”

  Mistystar stepped between them. “Getting angry won’t help.”

  Bramblestar puffed out his chest. “If we’d gotten angry earlier, we wouldn’t have so many codebreakers in the Clans.” His accusing gaze swept around the cats below him. “And StarClan might still be speaking to us.”

  As the gathered cats glanced nervously at each other, Crowfeather flattened his ears. “Do you really think StarClan wants us to start throwing around accusations? They want peace in the Clans, not arguments.”

  Bramblestar growled. His gaze flashed to the WindClan deputy. “You’re just another codebreaker in denial about what’s really going on!”

  Shocked mews sounded from WindClan. ShadowClan cats were exchanging anxious looks. Rootpaw shifted closer to Needlepaw. Why was Bramblestar upsetting every cat? What made him so sure that StarClan was angry with them?

  Bramblestar’s gaze gleamed with determination. “StarClan is silent for a reason. It’s perfectly clear to me what we have to do to bring them back. We must make sure the warrior code is respected and upheld.”

  As he spoke, ghostly fur flickered at the edge of Rootpaw’s vision. Alarmed, he jerked his gaze toward it. Bramblestar’s ghost was moving fast toward the Great Oak, ears flat, teeth bared. Was it going to attack the real Bramblestar? Rootpaw stared, fear sparking in his paws. The ghost suddenly turned, its spectral gaze locked with Rootpaw’s so intensely that it seemed to burn deep into his thoughts. Panic shrilled through his fur. It knows I can see him! Blood roaring in his ears, Rootpaw turned and fled. He plunged into the long grass, then hared toward the tree-bridge. Pelt spiked with terror, he exploded from the grass. I have to escape! The tree-bridge was a few tail-lengths ahead. He made for it, his breath shallow, and leaped onto the fallen tree. The frost on the bark made his paws slip, and he jerked sideways to keep his balance

  “You have to help me!” A voice sounded behind him. Rootpaw skidded to a clumsy halt on the tree-bridge. Dread weighted his paws. I can’t outrun a spirit. He turned, trembling.

  Bramblestar’s ghost stood below him on the shore. Behind, the long grass was still shivering where Rootpaw had charged through it. The ghost eyed him, desperation in its pale gaze. “You’re the only cat who can see me, and I don’t know how long I can last like this.” It took another stop forward.

  Rootpaw scrabbled backward. “Stay away!” His paws slipped again. Alarm flared beneath his pelt as he slithered sideways and tumbled from the bridge. He hit the water with a splash. The cold snatched his breath as he sank. Flailing, he tried to keep his head above the surface as he reached for the lakebed with his hind paws. But there was only water beneath him, and he sank deeper into the chilly blackness.

  Terror burned beneath his pelt. He churned his paws, hauling himself upward long enough to poke his muzzle into air. He gasped for breath, swallowing water as he sank again. Help! He remembered how he’d fallen into the lake before. Bristlefrost had fished him out, but she wasn’t here now. His Clanmates were in the clearing. Help! He fought for the surface once more. As he broke it, he saw Bramblestar’s ghost leaning down from the tree-bridge. A ghostly paw swung toward him.

  “Grab it!” Bramblestar’s faint mew echoed in the moonlight. Eyes stinging, heart pounding, Rootpaw thrust a foreleg above the surface, reaching for the apparition. His paw swished through the ghostly silhouette. He can’t touch me! The hope that had flashed for a moment in Rootpaw’s heart flickered out. With a wail he sank beneath the rippling water.

  He struck out again, not for the surface this time, but forward. If he could push himself to the bank, he’d find the shallows. Lungs screaming for air, he thrashed the water, kicking out with every leg, hope rising again as he moved beneath the surface. His forepaw struck something hard. The lakebed. It was rising to meet the shore. He dug his claws into the sandy earth and hauled himself toward it until he felt solid ground beneath every paw, and felt the fresh night air bathe his head. Pulling himself forward, he gulped a desperate breath and staggered from the lake, trembling with terror and the cold. Teeth chattering, he shook out his pelt.

  “Rootpaw!”
Needlepaw dashed across the tree-bridge and landed on the shore behind him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  The Gathering must have ended, because the cats were leaving the island, pouring along the long grass and filing across the bridge. As he struggled to calm himself, his Clanmates streamed around him.

  “How did you fall into the lake again?” Kitescratch stared at him, his whiskers trembling with amusement.

  Needlepaw turned on the brown tom. “He could have drowned!”

  Violetshine wove around Rootpaw. He could feel her pelt prickling with fear. “What happened?” she mewed.

  “I slipped on the frozen bark,” Rootpaw told her, rubbing water from his eyes with his paw.

  Dewspring reached him. His mentor gazed at him sternly. “You shouldn’t have run out of the Gathering like that. How does it look to the other Clans if one of our apprentices hares away for no reason?”

  “Leave him alone!” Violetshine glared at Dewspring. “He could have drowned.”

  “Don’t be mouse-brained,” Dewspring snapped back. “There are only a few tail-lengths of water between the island and the shore. Even a mouse could have swum it.” His gaze flitted back to Rootpaw. “Why did you run away?”

  Rootpaw stared at his mentor. He couldn’t tell him that he’d seen Bramblestar’s ghost. He couldn’t tell any cat. They’d think he was mouse-brained. Or lying. Or just weird, like Tree. “I’m sorry.” He looked at the ground, trying to stop himself from trembling. At least his Clanmates were here now. Bramblestar’s ghost wouldn’t try to talk to him while they were here, would it?

  “Come on.” Violetshine nudged him along the shore. “Walking will warm you up.” She pressed close beside him as they followed their campmates toward their border. Tree slid in on the other side, his gaze soft with concern, and Rootpaw was grateful for the warmth of their pelts.

  As they neared the forest, he glimpsed a ghostly form in the trees. Was Bramblestar’s ghost still following him? Dismayed, he pressed closer to Violetshine. He was going to have to do something about the apparition. But what could he do? It wants my help. But what could Rootpaw do? I’m not even sure if it’s real. As his fur began to dry in the chilly night breeze, Rootpaw tried to think of a plan. His heart felt heavy.

  If none of the other cats at the Gathering could see the ghost, it was up to him. Ignoring it wasn’t working. Rootpaw was going to have to talk to the ghost.

  The thought sent a chill through his whole body. Maybe, he thought, I should talk to a medicine cat first. . . .

  Chapter 5

  The dawn chill had already faded by the time Bristlefrost followed Rosepetal, Dewnose, and Lionblaze into the beech grove. The sun glittered between the trees, warm now even though it was still a long while until sunhigh.

  Bristlefrost tasted the air, relishing the hazy scents of coming newleaf. “Hurry up,” she called to her sister.

  Thriftear was trailing behind. “Aren’t you tired after staying up past moonhigh?” They’d arrived home late after the Gathering and talked for a while before finally going to their nests.

  “The fresh air has woken me up.” Bristlefrost was happy to be out with her Clanmates.

  Lionblaze glanced over his shoulder, his whiskers twitching with amusement. “Young cats need plenty of sleep,” he teased.

  “It’s Thriftear who’s tired, not me!” Bristlefrost lifted her tail indignantly. “I like getting up early. I was awake before dawn to send out the day’s patrols.”

  “Show-off,” Thriftear grumbled from behind.

  “I’m not showing off,” Bristlefrost told her, feeling hurt that Thriftear had missed the point. She guessed her sister was just crabby because she was sleepy. “I want to help Bramblestar. You heard him at the Gathering. We have to be the best warriors we can be. That’s all I’m doing.”

  “I wish you’d assigned me to a later patrol,” Thriftear sniffed.

  Bristlefrost ignored her. There was no point in arguing with Thriftear when she was tired.

  Rosepetal ducked under a low branch. “I think Bristlefrost has done a great job organizing the patrols.”

  Lionblaze followed her. “The borders will be marked and the fresh-kill pile full by midmorning.”

  Bristlefrost pricked her ears happily. “Do you really think I did okay?” She padded under the branch, letting the rough bark scrape her spine.

  “Yes.” Rosepetal blinked back at her. She’d been her mentor, and there was pride in her gaze. “You were polite and firm. And you matched your Clanmates well. Though I’m not sure Thornclaw will enjoy being out with younger cats.”

  Lionblaze purred. “He’s going to have to work to keep up. Flipclaw and Stemleaf are as fast as hares.”

  Bristlefrost puffed her chest out, padding past the older warriors as they paused at the top of the slope. The trees thinned here, and the delicate branches of the beeches, still in bud, let sunshine stream onto the forest floor. Her paws scuffed over last leaf-fall’s leaves, hardly more than dust now, as she scanned the trailing brambles. Bramblestar had been so sure of what the Clans had to do at last night’s Gathering. They must uphold the warrior code so that StarClan would return. She was determined to do her best to help. She’d set an example to other cats. StarClan would have no choice but to return. She’d be the greatest warrior ThunderClan had ever known. She swallowed back a purr. She was lucky to have a leader like Bramblestar, who had faith in her and who knew exactly what to do. He’d lead the Clans down the right path, she was sure. Soon everything would be perfect thanks to him.

  Mouse-scent touched her nose. She jerked her gaze toward an old beech, where tiny piles of freshly dug earth showed between the roots. She stopped, signaling to the others with a flick of her tail. As Lionblaze reached her, his paws barely made a noise on the forest floor.

  Dewnose stopped beside him and followed Bristlefrost’s gaze. “It looks like mice are nesting there,” he whispered, as Rosepetal crept up to join them.

  Thriftear caught up, her gaze sharpening with interest for the first time that morning. “There might be a whole family,” she breathed softly.

  “Let’s surround the tree,” Bristlefrost suggested. “They might have a secret way out. If we cover every side, we’ll catch at least one.”

  “Good idea.” Lionblaze nodded her forward. Clearly he wanted her to lead the way.

  Bristlefrost crept quickly and silently toward the beech, crouching down behind it and waiting while her Clanmates fanned out around the roots, each covering a side.

  “Thriftear.” Lionblaze blinked at the dark gray she-cat as she dropped her belly to the earth. “You start digging them out. We’ll be ready to catch any that try to escape.”

  Thriftear nodded and shuffled forward and began to claw away the crumbly soil, using first one paw, then both, until she was digging deep between the roots.

  Bristlefrost pricked her ears. Was that a squeak? She tensed, every hair on her pelt bristling with excitement. A flash of brown fur darted from beneath the root. She slammed her paws down, but it was too fast. It shot away and disappeared beneath the roots of a neighboring tree. Another mouse shot from the nest, then more. Thriftear snatched one up. Lionblaze hooked another and gave it a killing bite. Dewnose leaped, triumph shining in his eyes as he pinned a mouse with each forepaw. He killed one and then the other and sat back on his haunches. “Good plan, Bristlefrost.”

  “We’ve caught a morning’s worth,” Lionblaze purred. “And the sun is hardly above the trees.”

  “Maybe getting up early wasn’t so bad.” Thriftear held up the mouse she’d caught and purred.

  Bristlefrost shook out her pelt. She didn’t care that she hadn’t caught a mouse. She was happy her idea had worked. Her Clan would eat because of her.

  “Let’s bury them here and hunt some more,” Lionblaze suggested. “We can pick them up on our way back to camp.”

  Thriftear hollowed out a space beneath the tree and Lionblaze and Dewspring dropped their catches into it. As
Bristlefrost watched them, her pelt fluffed with satisfaction, she stiffened. A thought flashed across her mind. She’d been so proud of her idea that she’d forgotten it was StarClan who had guided her paws. They’d guided the whole patrol’s paws. “We never thanked StarClan for the prey!” Alarm sparked beneath her pelt. Thanking StarClan was the first thing every kit learned. Worry crawled through her belly. She hadn’t realized how easy it was to forget the warrior code. Her Clanmates could be breaking it all the time without even realizing. She looked around at her Clanmates, expecting to see their pelts bristle too. How could they have forgotten something so simple? “We must thank StarClan.”

  “I thanked StarClan.” Dewnose shrugged. “Just not out loud.”

  Thriftear glanced at her paws. “Me too,” she mewed quickly. “I said it to myself.”

  Bristlefrost narrowed her eyes. Really? She was unconvinced. Her sister always made excuses when there was something she should have done; it was easier to keep the peace than own up to mistakes. “Perhaps we should all say it out loud now, so we know we’ve done it.” She couldn’t let StarClan be mad at Thriftear.

  Thriftear rolled her eyes. “We’re not kits.”

  Bristlefrost blinked at her earnestly. “It’s important,’ she mewed. “You heard Bramblestar at the Gathering. We have to stop breaking the code if we want StarClan to talk to us again.”

  Rosepetal’s ears twitched, as she and Lionblaze shared a glance. “Do you really think StarClan would stop talking to us because of something so small?”

  “It’s not small if every cat does it,” Bristlefrost pointed out. “I think we should all thank StarClan out loud from now on, after every catch. That way we can be sure we’ve done it, and we can remind any cat who forgets.”

  “We can’t start yowling after every catch,” Lionblaze mewed gruffly. “We’ll scare off our next prey while thanking StarClan for our last.”

  Bristlefrost stared at him. Why were her Clanmates risking StarClan’s anger over such a small thing? “Warriors have been giving thanks to StarClan for their prey since the warrior code was invented. It must be important.”