Rootpaw scrambled back into place on the rock. And slowly, together, the warriors pushed the rock onto the logs. Working shoulder to shoulder, they were able to keep the rock on the logs, slide it slowly across, and push it to the edge of the Moonpool.
“Now,” Hawkwing yelled, “we all rest for a moment . . . and, on the count of three, we push it over the edge!”
Rootpaw panted, the cold air burning his lungs. He glanced around and caught the eye of Bristlefrost, who was on the outer edge of the group. She nodded at him and purred, and Rootpaw nodded back, sharing her sense of satisfaction.
Even if it doesn’t work, he thought, at least we’re doing something. Maybe that will impress StarClan?
But then he saw Jayfeather on the other side of the Moonpool, his eyes cast down with a look of utter despair, like he’d lost his only friend.
That is, if they’re not horribly offended that we touched the Moonpool . . .
Rootpaw felt heavy inside. Had things always been this horribly complicated?
“All right, everyone,” Reedwhisker yelled. “Take your places! . . . One . . . two . . .”
Rootpaw pressed his forepaws against the rock, pushing with all his might. All the warriors around him did the same, letting out a massive groan as the rock inched forward.
“Break!” Hawkwing yelled, and they all went limp, leaving the sharp edge of the rock dangling a few inches over the pool. Rootpaw tried to stretch his muscles. He knew they would all be sore in the morning.
Reedwhisker spoke up again after a few seconds. “Okay, places . . . One . . . two . . .”
They pushed the rock forward some more. Rootpaw’s forelegs ached, and he wondered if they would ever succeed. Then, so suddenly he let out a gasp of surprise, Rootpaw felt no resistance. The rock slid over the side of the pool, its sharp end nosing forward into the gash the medicine cats had dug out. There was silence for a few seconds, then a huge crash as the tip of the rock made contact with the ice.
“Hooray!” Breezepelt, from WindClan, yelled.
“Don’t be mouse-brained,” Bristlefrost snapped at him. “We don’t know whether it broke through. . . .”
At her words, all the warriors stepped forward to the edge of the pool to look down. But before he moved, Rootpaw glimpsed Jayfeather’s face.
It hadn’t changed.
Breezepelt scrambled to the edge and looked down. “It made a big dent. But there’s still more ice!”
Rootpaw felt his heart sink.
“It goes at least five tail-lengths down,” Bristlefrost added, staring down into the pool. “So much ice . . .”
Crowfeather was looking, too. “I suppose we can try again . . . ,” he meowed. But he sounded tired. As tired as Rootpaw felt.
Hawkwing looked even less optimistic. “We can try countless times,” he agreed, “but we don’t know where the water begins . . . or whether it’s frozen solid.”
Frozen solid. A shiver went through Rootpaw’s body at those words.
He was willing to try again, as hard as it might be . . . to find another rock, to push it into the pool, to hope that it might break the ice. He was willing to work all day, if he had to. All night, too, if he had the strength.
But as he caught Bristlefrost’s eye again, he wondered if she was feeling the same despair he was. All the effort in the world wouldn’t bring StarClan back if they’d left them on purpose.
What if StarClan has left us for good?
Chapter 18
Bristlefrost stood in the shadow of a rock, gazing around the snow-covered clearing; she was alert to pick up any sign of prey. Mousewhisker, who was leading the hunting patrol, had disappeared with Berrynose around a holly bush, but she could still see Snaptooth, his golden tabby pelt standing out against the white of the snowbank where he was crouching.
With all the tensions in the camp, Bristlefrost was finding it hard to concentrate. Bramblestar was still lying motionless in the medicine cats’ den, breathing but seeming unaware of anything going on around him. And the attempt to break the ice in the Moonpool, which had briefly given the Clan cats so much hope, had ended in failure. The Moonpool appeared to be frozen solid, and StarClan had remained stubbornly silent.
We could do with some good prey, Bristlefrost thought, though she had nearly given up hope of finding any. At least we’d all feel better if our bellies were full.
Almost as soon as the thought went through her mind, Bristlefrost spotted a disturbance ahead of her, where rocks and tussocks of grass jutted out of a shallow, uneven slope. Some of the snow shifted and rolled down the bank in clumps, leaving a dark hole. A nose poked out, a pair of ears . . .
A rabbit!
Bristlefrost’s jaws started to water; it had been so long since she’d seen a rabbit, she could hardly believe it was there in front of her. It emerged from its burrow and hopped slowly forward, its forepaws scrabbling at the snow to uncover buried grass and vegetation. It seemed to have no idea of the danger waiting for it only a few fox-lengths away.
Glancing across the clearing, Bristlefrost realized that Snaptooth had spotted the rabbit too. His ears were pricked, his whiskers quivering, and his gaze was fixed on the creature as it nibbled at the frostbitten grass.
Stay where you are! Bristlefrost wanted to yowl the words at her Clanmate, but she knew that their only hope of catching the prey was to stay still and silent until it was too far away from its burrow to dive safely back inside.
Her heart was thumping so hard it was painful, and it took all her self-control not to hurl herself at the rabbit. What if it turns back, and all I’ve done is stand here and stare at it?
Then Bristlefrost noticed that Snaptooth had flattened himself to the ground and begun to creep forward cautiously, working his way around to get between the rabbit and the burrow. The rabbit, too intent on feeding, didn’t notice his stealthy movement. We’ll have it trapped! Bristlefrost thought with delight, her mouth watering.
Once Snaptooth was in position, Bristlefrost lowered herself into the hunter’s crouch and prowled toward her prey, testing the ground with every paw step. But before she was close enough to pounce, a gust of wind passed over her. Bristlefrost froze, hoping the wind hadn’t been strong enough to carry her scent to her quarry.
The rabbit sat upright, its ears erect and its nose twitching. Oh, no! Now it knows I’m here! Spinning around, her prey darted for its burrow, its strong hind legs thrusting it forward in massive leaps. But Snaptooth was waiting. As he bared his teeth and bunched his muscles for a pounce, the rabbit let out a squeal of terror and skidded to a halt in a flurry of snow. It doubled back and raced off at an angle, heading away from where Bristlefrost was waiting to complete the kill.
Fox dung!
Snaptooth gave chase, but the rabbit was outpacing him. Bristlefrost almost despaired, until she remembered something Rosepetal had told her when she was an apprentice: Don’t run to where your prey is; run to where it’s going to be.
Bristlefrost flung herself forward, aiming for a spot a few fox-lengths ahead of the fleeing rabbit. Dread stabbed into her belly at the thought of losing the best prey she’d seen in moons. If the rabbit changes direction, I’ve totally messed up!
But the rabbit kept going. Bristlefrost leaped on top of it; hunter and prey rolled over and over in a whirl of legs, tail, and snow. Then Bristlefrost managed to fix her paw across the rabbit’s throat and dug her claws in deep. Blood gushed out and the rabbit went limp.