Tigerstar gave no sign that Lionblaze’s aggressive tone had offended him. “My son, Shadowpaw,” he began, “who as you know is a medicine-cat apprentice, told me, after he received a message from StarClan.”
“No cat has received a message from StarClan!” Graystripe put in.
Tigerstar’s gaze flicked to the elder and away again. “My son has. And, more important, he knows how to cure Bramblestar.”
Every cat’s gaze turned to Squirrelflight, who stood silent for a long moment, clearly stunned. Then she glanced at Flippaw. “Please fetch Jayfeather and Alderheart,” she requested.
The whole Clan waited in silence while the apprentice scurried across the camp and vanished behind the bramble screen at the entrance to the medicine cats’ den. Bristlefrost felt so confused that she couldn’t move, her mind racing and filling with half-formed questions. She didn’t know whether to hope that Shadowpaw really did have the answer to Bramblestar’s mysterious illness, or whether this was all some kind of ShadowClan trick to attack ThunderClan when they were vulnerable. Maybe Tigerstar did find out about the Moonpool, and this is some complicated strategy to get revenge?
When Bristlefrost felt she couldn’t wait a heartbeat longer, Jayfeather and Alderheart appeared from their den and padded over to the fresh-kill pile with Flippaw following them.
“What’s all this?” Jayfeather demanded harshly.
Instead of explaining, Squirrelflight turned to Shadowpaw. “All right,” she began, “if Bramblestar were sick, how would you cure him?”
Shadowpaw looked up at the ThunderClan deputy; for a moment Bristlefrost could see he was too overwhelmed to speak, until Tigerstar gave him an encouraging nudge.
“W-well . . . ,” the apprentice stammered, “Bramblestar’s illness is like a—a wildfire. It can’t be snuffed out with treatment. It has to be allowed to burn out on its own.”
Squirrelflight’s green eyes narrowed as she gazed down at him. “And what does that mean?” she asked.
“It’s an unusual idea—” Tigerstar began, then broke off and waved his tail at his son for Shadowpaw to continue.
Shadowpaw gathered himself and started to speak again. Bristlefrost felt a twinge of admiration for the young cat; it must take courage to tell a rival Clan what to do, when he was no more than an apprentice, and to stand up to that Clan’s suspicious glares while he explained.
“You should take Bramblestar to a cold place on the moor,” Shadowpaw told the ThunderClan medicine cats, his voice sounding more confident as he continued. “The colder the better, and somewhere where the wind is strong. Build him a den in the snow, and have him sleep there overnight. The sickness will get worse before it gets better, but when Bramblestar wakes up he will be strong again, and just as healthy as before.”
A long, disbelieving silence followed Shadowpaw’s words. At last Squirrelflight shook her head, turning to Tigerstar. “Are you serious?” she demanded. “Do you really think I would allow any cat to drag my sick mate—if he were sick—out onto the moor to freeze to death?”
“Maybe he does,” Jayfeather growled, turning a hostile expression on the ShadowClan leader. “Shadowpaw, exactly how has Puddleshine been training you? Don’t you realize that what you’re suggesting could kill Bramblestar? That would leave ThunderClan weak, when we have problems enough as it is. And maybe that’s what Tigerstar wants!” he finished with a lash of his tail.
“Nonsense,” Tigerstar responded. He closed his eyes briefly and dug his claws into the ground; Bristlefrost could see what a massive effort it took for him to keep his temper in check. “I came here in good faith, to share my son’s vision. I didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“I’m not sure where Shadowpaw’s visions come from,” Jayfeather snapped back at him, “but the medicine cats couldn’t even reach our ancestors when we made cracks in the frozen Moonpool. So I know these instructions aren’t coming from StarClan!”
Tigerstar’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?” he asked Jayfeather. “Who made cracks in the Moonpool? Why would any cat think of doing that to such a special place?”
A long silence followed the ShadowClan leader’s questions. Bristlefrost thought she could see a look of deep regret in Jayfeather’s eyes, and uncomfortable glances from the other cats standing around. She knew Jayfeather had never meant to give away so much to Tigerstar, after the ShadowClan cats hadn’t been invited to help.
Finally Squirrelflight raised her head, as if she was bracing herself for an unpleasant task. “It was necessary . . . ,” she mewed. “To see if we could reach StarClan again. All the Clans helped.”
“ShadowClan didn’t help,” Tigerstar retorted, his shoulder fur beginning to bush up in anger. “Why were we left out?”
Every cat stared uncomfortably at Shadowpaw, who kept his gaze fixed on his paws. Bristlefrost felt sorry for the apprentice, her kin, who wasn’t much older than her. He even looked a bit like her and her littermates . . . she could see Flippaw in the shape of his eyes, Thriftpaw in the seriousness of his gaze.
What must it feel like, when all the Clans think you’re lying?
But at the same time, Bristlefrost could see why the ThunderClan cats were so doubtful about him now. How could any cat believe that his message about putting Bramblestar out in the cold could really be from StarClan? Why is Shadowpaw so special? she wondered. And why would StarClan seek out a ShadowClan medicine cat, and not one from ThunderClan or one of the other clans?
“I understand now,” Tigerstar growled, when it was clear that no cat intended to answer his questions. “I’m sorry I brought my son here, through the cold, for no good reason. If the other Clans don’t view ShadowClan as one of them, then ShadowClan will seek its own path. This is the last wisdom from Shadowpaw that I will share with outsiders!” He raked the crowd of cats around him with a last hostile glare. “Come on, Shadowpaw. We’re leaving.”
Turning, he stormed off across the camp. For a moment, Shadowpaw hesitated, as if he didn’t want to follow, until Tigerstar glanced back over his shoulder and snapped, “Shadowpaw!”
The apprentice dipped his head to Squirrelflight and followed his father.
Before the two ShadowClan cats reached the thorn tunnel, Squirrelflight suddenly stepped forward; Bristlefrost saw remorse in the Clan deputy’s face. “Wait . . . ,” she called out to the cats’ retreating tails, her voice weak and uncertain.
Tigerstar checked for an instant, then continued without looking back. Both he and Shadowpaw disappeared into the tunnel.
When they were gone, Squirrelflight heaved a deep sigh, and turned a glare on Jayfeather from narrowed green eyes. Though Jayfeather couldn’t see the glare, he certainly seemed to feel it; he shrugged his shoulders uneasily. “We all know what Tigerstar has been like in the past,” he mumbled.
Bristlefrost could feel her pelt tingling from the tension in the camp, as if ants were crawling through her fur. She couldn’t believe that such a short time ago she’d been sharing prey with her Clanmates and feeling optimistic.
“Maybe Shadowpaw’s idea has some merit,” Alderheart meowed. His voice was calm, and he was clearly trying to smooth things over.
“What?” Jayfeather spat. “You must have a whole nest of bees in your brain if you want to do what that delusional little flea-pelt told you!”
“Keep your fur on, Jayfeather,” Alderheart told him, resting his tail for a moment on the older medicine cat’s shoulder. “That’s not what I mean at all. But don’t you remember how I once saved Puddleshine from a terrible Twoleg infection by feeding him the flesh of deathberries? At first, it seemed like they would kill him, and he got worse before he got better—just like Shadowpaw said would be the answer to Bramblestar’s illness.”