Shadowpaw gazed up into the darkness, wishing he could see the face of the warrior spirit who was saying these terrible things. He wanted to defy him and reject what he was saying, but he couldn’t. He believed every word of it.
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” he asked, his voice quavering.
“Yes, there is a way,” the voice replied, the mocking tone giving way to reassurance. “Listen carefully, and I’ll tell you what you must do. . . .”
Shadowpaw nodded, pricking his ears to take in the StarClan warrior’s instructions. But as the plan unfolded, he grew more and more uneasy.
This sounds so dangerous . . . maybe even crazy. But who am I to question StarClan? He was only an apprentice. It would be arrogant of him to think that he knew better.
Still, the thought of going back to the Clans and reporting what he had discovered made Shadowpaw feel a little sick. Puddleshine and Jayfeather would never go along with this . . . it goes against everything a medicine cat is taught! He knew that many of the older medicine cats didn’t fully trust him. Coming back with a plan like this would only make them more convinced that Shadowpaw was crazy.
Even if I could convince Alderheart and Puddleshine . . . Jayfeather won’t go along. He thinks I’m a stupid apprentice, and it’s all in my imagination. And now it was happening again. Why am I the only cat StarClan has given this message? No way will they ever believe me!
But then Shadowpaw realized something. Bramblestar had seemed strong and healthy the last time Shadowpaw had seen him at the Gathering. If he suddenly got sick, then that would prove that StarClan’s warning was important. Then the medicine cats would listen to him. And if Bramblestar didn’t get sick, maybe Shadowpaw wouldn’t need to say anything.
“Are you a strong cat?” the voice asked him. “Are you ready to carry out my instructions?”
“Yes, I will,” Shadowpaw replied. But before I do, he added privately to himself, there’s one cat I need to talk to.
“Then go,” the voice ordered. “And remember—the future of the Clans rests on your shoulders.”
Shadowpaw flinched. Not too much pressure, there. But he dared not refuse it, and the voice said nothing more. All he could do was obey.
Exhausted by stress and fear, Shadowpaw toiled up the path that led away from the Moonpool, feeling as shaken as he had when Puddleshine had first taken him there. He had hoped that another encounter with the voice would have made him feel better. Instead he had a whole new set of worries.
The journey back to ShadowClan territory had never seemed so long, but there was still no sign of dawn in the sky when Shadowpaw staggered into camp and sneaked back into the medicine cats’ den. Puddleshine was asleep, snoring quietly, and Shadowpaw was able to curl up in his own nest without disturbing him.
He sank at once into sleep, but his worries followed him even into his dreams. He was standing in the forest, looking down at Bramblestar, who lay unconscious at his paws. The ThunderClan leader’s eyes were closed, and white flakes of snow were settling in his dark tabby fur.
Shadowpaw woke with a jerk. Gray light was shining into the den, and Puddleshine was already up and out somewhere. Gathering his courage, Shadowpaw headed across the camp and halted outside Tigerstar’s den.
To his relief, Dovewing wasn’t there. Tigerstar was awake and grooming himself when Shadowpaw stuck his head inside.
“Is something bothering you?” Tigerstar asked, looking up and beckoning with his tail for his son to enter the den. Shadowpaw nodded solemnly. “Then come and tell me what it is.”
Shadowpaw padded inside and sat next to his father. “Tigerstar,” he meowed grimly, “we have to talk.”
Chapter 16
The last border patrols of the day had just left the camp, and the remaining cats of ThunderClan were milling around outside the warriors’ den while Squirrelflight organized them to go hunting. Though the fierce cold still gripped their territory, most of them seemed eager and optimistic, their eyes bright with purpose.
Bristlefrost stood a little way apart, wondering how her Clanmates could act so cheerful. For a short while the sun had broken through the heavy clouds of leaf-bare, but no light had penetrated the darkness of her heart.
“Hey, Bristlefrost!” Twigbranch called to her. “Do you want to hunt with us?”
Normally Bristlefrost would have agreed at once, pleased to have been invited. All she had ever wanted was to be a warrior and hunt for her Clan. But today she couldn’t summon up any enthusiasm.
She shook her head. “No, thanks. I . . . er . . . there’s a thorn in my bedding and I need to get it out.”
Twigbranch’s whiskers twitched as if she thought that was a feeble excuse, and Bristlefrost had to admit to herself that her Clanmate was right. She turned listlessly and was about to enter the den when she felt teeth fasten in her shoulder fur and turned her head to see her former mentor, Rosepetal. Ignoring Bristlefrost’s cry of protest, Rosepetal dragged her to a secluded spot between the outer branches of the den and the wall of the stone hollow.
“What’s going on?” Bristlefrost asked, bewildered.
“What’s going on with you?” the cream-colored she-cat challenged her. “You’ve just been made a full warrior, and that was always your dream—or so I thought. So why are you moping around camp like some cat stole your prey?”
Bristlefrost didn’t want to reply. She knew Rosepetal would just think she was being ridiculous, mooning over Stemleaf when the Clan had so many more important problems to face. But her feelings were still so sharp, so overwhelming, that to her horror she found herself pouring out everything to her former mentor.
“I really like Stemleaf,” she confessed. “And I was sure that we were meant to be mates, just as soon as I became a warrior. But he wasn’t thinking about that at all.” Her voice shook with misery as she remembered that terrible conversation. “The whole time, he’s wanted to be mates with Spotfur. I’ve been working so hard, and now . . . it feels like it’s all been for nothing.”
Rosepetal nodded. To Bristlefrost’s surprise, her eyes were kind. “I know exactly how you feel,” she meowed. “I’ve been in that position myself.”
Bristlefrost’s tail shot up in amazement. “You have?” She found it hard to believe that Rosepetal—such a beautiful, graceful she-cat, with all the skills a warrior needed—had ever pined for something she couldn’t have.
“Of course,” Rosepetal went on calmly. “Every cat has been there at least once. I know how painful it is when something, or some cat, that you’ve set your heart on doesn’t work out.”
“How did you get through it?” Bristlefrost asked.
“I focused on the things I could control,” Rosepetal replied. “Like being the best warrior I could be. And you can do the same. All your training isn’t a waste if you can use it for the good of your Clan. And maybe one day you’ll find the right mate. You’re a young cat; there’s no rush. Meanwhile, your Clan needs you.”
Bristlefrost nodded slowly. Though Stemleaf’s rejection still hurt, Rosepetal’s words made sense. Maybe she was right. Maybe Bristlefrost just needed to find her purpose within the Clan.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll try my best.”
“Good.” Rosepetal swished her tail with satisfaction. “Now, if you’re up to it, your Clanmates are getting ready to hunt. They could really use your help, and if you hurry, there’s still time for you to join them.”
Bristlefrost nodded, and rushed around the side of the den to where the cats were assembling. Most of them had already left, but one group remained, gathering around the Clan leader.