The Silent Thaw

by Erin Hunter

  Puddleshine tipped his head thoughtfully. “But going on normal patrols again could be good for him.”

  Shadowsight saw Antfur’s muscular legs begin to quiver. The brown-and-black tom grimaced a little. Shadowsight darted toward him, pressing his flank against Antfur’s to steady him as he began to sway. “Are you dizzy?”

  “A little,” Antfur confessed. “But that’s okay. I should get back to my warrior duties.”

  “You need to rest.” Shadowsight was supporting most of the warrior’s weight as he leaned against him. Antfur seemed hardly able stand on his own four paws. How could he be ready for patrols?

  Antfur pulled away from him. “I’ve already rested for three days,” he pointed out.

  Tigerstar swished his tail. “He just needs some exercise. A warrior’s place is out there, in the forest.”

  “Besides, Mittens was going to show me a shrew nest,” Antfur meowed eagerly.

  “Mittens?” Tigerstar frowned.

  Antfur frowned, clearly realizing he’d said the wrong name. He tried to correct himself. “I mean Blaze.”

  Shadowsight’s paws pricked anxiously. “You mean Blazefire, right?” Had he forgotten his friend’s warrior name?

  “Of course.” Antfur lifted his chin.

  Tigerstar’s gaze darkened. “Perhaps you should stay in the medicine den for another day or two.”

  Antfur’s eyes widened indignantly. “I don’t want to be treated like a kit, or an elder. I joined ShadowClan so I could be a warrior. I’m perfectly okay. I should be taking care of my Clanmates. They shouldn’t be taking care of me.”

  Tigerstar caught Shadowsight’s eye. “What do you think?”

  “I’d like to keep an eye on him.”

  “Puddleshine?” Tigerstar looked at the other medicine cat.

  “Shadowsight is right. Another day in the medicine den might be best,” Puddleshine mewed.

  “No!” Antfur’s pelt bristled. “I’m as fit as a hare.” He padded around the den, swishing his tail. “I’m perfectly capable of hunting.” He stared at Tigerstar.

  “But what if you get dizzy again while you’re out of camp?” Shadowsight felt unconvinced.

  “I won’t be on my own,” Antfur told him. “I’ll have a patrol with me, and my Clanmates won’t let anything happen.”

  Shadowsight still wasn’t sure. As long as he was keeping the secret of the codebreaker vision, he couldn’t let any cat take risks. If StarClan really had let Antfur get hurt to send him a message, they might decide to send another. “He should stay here.”

  Tigerstar frowned thoughtfully. “But Antfur has a point,” he murmured. “He won’t be on his own.”

  Puddleshine nodded. He padded around Antfur, sniffing his pelt. “There’s no swelling or stiffness. If he gets dizzy, he can rest until it passes.”

  “What if he gets confused again?” Shadowsight stared at Puddleshine.

  “He’ll be with his Clanmates.” Puddleshine looked decided. “They’ll help him.”

  Antfur shifted his paws impatiently. “Can I go?” he asked Tigerstar. “The dawn hunting patrol will be heading out soon.”

  Tigerstar nodded. “Okay, but take it easy.”

  “Of course I will.” Antfur ducked out of the den.

  Shadowsight watched him go. Would StarClan watch over him? Or would Antfur be in danger until Shadowsight shared the codebreaking vision with the Clans? I hear you, okay? He glanced upward, anger welling in his chest. I’m just trying to do what’s best.

  As Tigerstar left the den and Puddleshine fetched herbs from the store for Snowbird, Shadowsight gazed into the pale dawn light. Perhaps the run of bad luck had nothing to do with StarClan. Antfur would be fine. Fresh air and company would make him better, wouldn’t it? He tried to push his nagging doubt away. StarClan, I know what you’re trying to tell me! Worry itched beneath his pelt. Please protect Antfur.

  The morning passed slowly. Shadowsight made poultices for his Clanmates’ injuries: oak leaf and goldenrod for Stonewing’s tail, nettle for Scorchfur’s bruises, and marigold for Dovewing’s ear. He kept his ears pricked, listening for Antfur’s return. The small brown-and-black tom was probably having fun, relieved to escape the gloom of the medicine den and feeling like his old self again.

  As Shadowsight crossed the clearing, his paws still green with the nettle juice he’d smeared on Scorchfur’s injuries, paw steps sounded at the entrance. A patrol was returning.

  Whorlpelt and Flowerstem looked up from the mouse they were sharing. Flowerstem’s nose twitched nervously as she tasted the air. Outside the apprentices’ den, Cinnamontail dropped the brambles she’d been threading into the wall. She looked toward the entrance, her pelt ruffling along her spine.

  Shadowsight followed her gaze nervously. What had put his Clanmates on edge? Through the thrumming of paw steps, he could hear fur brushing the forest floor, as though the patrol had caught a large rabbit and was dragging it back to share with their Clanmates. The entrance shivered as Snaketooth padded in. Shadowsight’s breath caught in his throat as he saw grief in the tabby she-cat’s gaze. Blazefire and Gullswoop followed her. They were hauling something behind them, their claws hooked into dark brown fur.

  Shadowsight froze. Horror swamped him like ice water as he recognized the body they’d brought back. It wasn’t a rabbit. It was Antfur, and the warrior was clearly dead. He swallowed back nausea as Blazefire pulled his Clanmate’s body into the clearing and let it drop to the ground.

  Cinnamontail raced from the apprentices’ den, her eyes wide with shock. “What happened?” She crouched beside Antfur and stared at Blazefire.

  “We told him to say close.” The white-and-ginger tom sounded numb. “But he chased a squirrel up a tree. I followed him, but he was too fast. He’d cornered it at the top before I reached him, and he got dizzy.” Blazefire’s mew broke. “He fell.”

  “There was nothing we could do.” Gullswoop stared bleakly at Antfur’s body.

  Cinnamontail stared at her dead friend. Like Blazefire, she’d shared a den with the tom when they’d lived in the city, before they joined the Clan. They’d known each other since kithood. Her eyes glistened with grief. “He was injured so recently. He should never have gone out.”

  “He wanted to hunt with his Clan,” Blazefire mumbled.

  “He wanted to be a warrior the moment he knew what one was,” Cinnamontail wailed. “He was always first to spot prey and first to chase it. He wanted to help make his Clan as strong and healthy as it could be. And in the end, it killed him.”

  Dovewing padded from her den. When she saw Antfur’s body and heard Cinnamontail’s sob, she limped across the clearing. Pressing her cheek to Cinnamontail’s, she looked at Shadowsight. He stiffened. Could she see his guilt? It was searing his belly like fire. I should have made Tigerstar keep him in camp! He dropped his gaze. Would it have changed anything? Antfur had only been hurt in the first place because StarClan was trying to send Shadowsight a message. His death proved it. This couldn’t just be a run of bad luck. Shadowsight’s paws felt as heavy as stone. It was a message from StarClan. And he knew, with a sense of dread that made the ground seem to shift beneath his paws, that the injuries and deaths would keep happening until he stopped them. He glanced guilty toward Tigerstar’s den. No matter what his father had said, he couldn’t risk keeping the secret anymore. He had to warn the other medicine cats.

  Chapter 10

  Rootpaw hunched his shoulders miserably as he followed Dewspring down the steep trail toward camp, despair clinging to his fur like heavy rain. Another training session with his mentor, and another day where Rootpaw seemed to mess up everything.

  Dewspring’s tail flicked crossly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to snap out of it. It’s like trying to train a kit. You’re always watching something else when you should be listening to me. How will you ever learn if you don’t focus? You should be ready for your assessment by now, but I don’t trust you not to wander off
in the middle of it and forget what you’re doing.”

  Pelt prickling with frustration, Rootpaw padded into camp after his mentor. At this rate, he was never going to pass his assessment and show Leafstar and Dewspring that he could be a good warrior. He felt a twinge of annoyance in his belly fur. His training would surely be going better if he didn’t have Bramblestar’s ghost on his tail all the time, pestering him to take a message to Squirrelflight.

  How, exactly, am I supposed do that? There was no way ThunderClan’s deputy would believe the story Rootpaw had to tell her. Especially if she heard it from a SkyClan apprentice. He’d just cause more trouble for the Clans, and for what?

  Dewspring stopped at the edge of the clearing, gazing at him so intently, Rootpaw couldn’t help staring down at the ground. He was keenly aware of his Clanmates relaxing in the midday sunshine. Needlepaw was chattering with Wrenpaw and Kitescratch. Tree was hooking mice from the fresh-kill pile and inspecting them carefully, as though looking for one he liked. Violetshine and Palesky watched Pigeonfoot, who was demonstrating how he’d caught a bat mid-flight yesterday evening. Every cat seemed happy except Rootpaw. He looked at Dewspring, wishing he could explain that there was a good reason he was messing up in training so much. But even if he told his mentor what it was, he felt sure it would sound like nothing but a desperate excuse. “I’ll try harder,” he mumbled.

  His heart sank even deeper as he saw Leafstar look toward him.

  Her eyes were dark as she exchanged glances with Dewspring. Has he warned her how badly I’m doing?

  The SkyClan leader crossed the clearing and stopped beside them. “Again?” she mewed heavily, her gaze resting on Rootpaw.

  He has told her. Rootpaw wished he could melt into the earth as Dewspring sighed.

  “He’s still not concentrating,” the gray tom growled.

  “Rootpaw.” Leafstar stared at him sternly. “I don’t mind if apprentices find their training challenging. I expect it to be challenging. Learning is hard. But Dewspring told me you had promise. I thought I’d be giving you your warrior name by now. You certainly have the ability, but you can’t be spending your training sessions mooning over some cat who doesn’t even live in our Clan. It’s a waste of your time—yours and your mentor’s.”

  Rootpaw blinked at her. “I’m not mooning.”

  “Really?” She sounded unconvinced. “I can’t think why else Dewspring would tell me you spend most of your training staring into the trees when you should be watching prey.”

  Rootpaw tried not to see the disappointment in her eyes. It was bad enough that Dewspring was looking at him like he’d caught a beetle instead of a mouse.

  “The Clans are on edge,” Leafstar went on. “Who knows what will happen next? We’ve had no word from StarClan. Bramblestar is spreading panic and fear, throwing around accusations about codebreakers. If he’s trying to use StarClan’s silence to make ThunderClan more powerful, we need to be on the alert. SkyClan needs strong, reliable warriors. There’s no time for your antics. You need to try harder. You owe it to your Clan, to your mentor, and to yourself.”

  He met her gaze, longing to explain that he could be a good warrior if only a certain dead cat would leave him in peace. Did Bramblestar’s ghost realize how much trouble it was causing? It should be here now, watching this. “I’m sorry,” Rootpaw mumbled.

  “‘Sorry’ catches no prey.” Leafstar whisked her tail angrily. “I want to see some changes.” She stalked away, her pelt ruffling along her spine.

  Rootpaw looked apologetically at Dewspring. His mentor was staring at him with undisguised exasperation. “I’m really sorry,” Rootpaw mumbled again.

  Dewspring flattened his ears. “Don’t waste your breath,” he growled. “Just try harder.” He followed Leafstar back to her den and stopped beside her. They talked softly, leaning close, and Rootpaw could tell they were discussing him, his paw pads tingling with a mix of guilt and embarrassment. He wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of—failing his warrior assessment, or his leader and mentor finding out why he was doing so badly at his training.

  Was there any way that he would be able to get rid of the ghost? He’d consulted Fidgetflake; he’d tried to get Tree to see it. Nothing had helped. He glanced at his father, who’d plucked a skinny mouse from the fresh-kill pile and was carrying it toward the shady patch beside the dogwood where he liked to eat alone. I have to tell him. He needed to share his secret before it got him into more trouble. Tree was the only cat in SkyClan who might understand what it was like to be plagued by a dead cat. And Tree was his father. He had to believe him, didn’t he?

  His paws felt heavy as he padded across the grass. His father looked up as he neared, his eyes rounding. “Hey, Rootpaw. Is everything okay?” He tipped his head to one side. “I saw Leafstar was talking to you. She looked kind of angry. Did you forget a battle move? Or catch the wrong sort of mouse?”

  “No.” Rootpaw’s pelt ruffled with irritation. He knew his father hadn’t wanted to be a warrior himself, but could he not take his own son’s ambition seriously?

  Tree pushed the mouse toward him. “Sit down and have a bite,” he mewed gently. “You can tell me why you look like a sparrow that’s lost its chick.”

  Rootpaw glanced over his shoulder. Leafstar and Dewspring were still talking. Leafstar’s gaze flitted toward him. He shifted his paws self-consciously. “Can we talk about it outside?” he asked Tree.

  Tree eyed his mouse, then met Rootpaw’s gaze. “I guess this can wait.” He got to his paws, his eyes glittering suddenly with worry. “It sounds important,” he mewed. “Should I ask Violetshine to join us?”

  “Violetshine won’t be able to help with this.” Rootpaw headed for the entrance.

  Tree padded beside him, his fur fluffed. Rootpaw glanced at his father. Is he pleased I’m asking him for help? He slid after Tree through the ferns at the entrance to the camp and climbed up the steep slope between the boulders, pausing as he reached the top.

  Ahead of him, hills rolled toward the mountains. He took a deep breath of crisp, clean air and faced his father. “I keep seeing a ghost,” he blurted. He waited for his father’s eyes to light up. He’ll be proud that I’m like him. His pelt ruffled irritably.

  Tree eyed him thoughtfully without speaking.

  “I thought you’d understand,” Rootpaw pressed. Why wasn’t Tree saying anything? Doesn’t he believe me? His chest tightened. “Except it’s not a ghost. It’s Bramblestar’s ghost. But it can’t be, because Bramblestar is alive. Am I imagining it? Is it normal? It’s driving me crazy.” His heart quickened as Tree frowned. “Perhaps I am crazy. I’m the only one who can see him. And he’s started talking to me. Asking me to help him. How can I help a dead cat? I’m not even—”

  “Slow down.” Tree moved closer, his gaze fixed on Rootpaw’s.

  “But you think I’m crazy, right? I can tell by the way you’re looking at me.” Panic began to spiral in Rootpaw’s belly. The ground seemed to sway beneath his paws. If Tree thought he was crazy, perhaps he was crazy.

  “You’re not crazy,” Tree mewed firmly. “I don’t know how you’re seeing the ghost of a living cat. But I believe you, and we’re going to sort this out.”

  Rootpaw’s throat tightened. He felt an overwhelming desire to bury his muzzle in Tree’s fur, as he’d done when he was a kit. He was relieved that the ghost wasn’t his secret anymore. And Tree believed him. He blinked at his father. “It’s been happening since before the Gathering. That’s why I ran out. I saw him looking at me. He knew I could see him. It freaked me out when he wanted to talk to me.”

  “That must have been very scary.” Tree ran his tail along Rootpaw’s spine. “Do you think Bramblestar’s ghost wants to hurt you?”

  “No,” Rootpaw told him quickly. “He seems as confused as I am. He just wants to understand why he’s a ghost when his body is still leader of ThunderClan. He says it’s been stolen, and he doesn’t know what to do. I’m the only cat who can see, and
he wants me to help him.”

  Tree sat down and gazed across the hilltops. “So a ghost can take over another cat’s body?” He frowned, clearly puzzled.

  “It only took over when Bramblestar died on the moor.” Rootpaw told Tree what the ghost had told him.

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

  “But it’s happened now.”

  Tree paused for a moment, then tipped his head thoughtfully to one side. “I guess it explains why Bramblestar has been behaving so strangely. But who would want to take over his body?” He looked at Rootpaw. “If it’s not Bramblestar, who is it?”

  Rootpaw shrugged.

  “It must have something to do with all this nonsense about codebreakers,” Tree went on. “Whoever it is, they’re clearly trying to stir up trouble in the Clans.” He narrowed his eyes. “We’re going to have to tread carefully.”

  “But if we warn the other Clans what’s happening, it’ll help, won’t it?” Rootpaw’s ears pricked with hope.

  “Most warriors don’t see dead cats,” Tree told him. “They’re going to find this hard to believe. Can you imagine old warriors like Thornclaw or Emberfoot swallowing the idea of two Bramblestars—one dead and one alive?”

  “But they believe in StarClan. And they fought alongside dead cats in the Great Battle, didn’t they?”

  “That was moons ago,” Tree told him. “Before SkyClan even came here. And they all saw those dead cats. I’m not sure any cat will want to believe that a SkyClan apprentice, and you alone, can see the ghost of a living warrior. They might think we’re causing trouble for trouble’s sake.” His tail twitched uneasily. “If this living Bramblestar is trying to hurt the Clans, telling any cat that he’s a fake might just give him something new to sharpen his claws on.”

  Rootpaw stared at him, his paws heavy with disappointment. He’d thought Tree might be able to help. He’s as powerless as I am. He blinked at his father. Or maybe not! Hope sparked suddenly from his desperation. “But you’re Clan mediator,” he mewed eagerly. “They’d believe you, wouldn’t they? Bramblestar wanted me to tell Squirrelflight. But I’m just an apprentice. I’ve got no reason to cross their border. You can visit ThunderClan easily. Just say it’s important Clan business and tell Squirrelflight that Bramblestar’s a fake.”