Lost Stars

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.

Seeing that Stemleaf was part of the group, Bristlefrost hesitated, almost changing her mind. Then she remembered what Rosepetal had said and held her head high as she joined the others.

I am a warrior, she reminded herself. I have a job to do.

Stemleaf tried to catch her eye, beckoning with his tail in a welcoming gesture, but Bristlefrost wasn’t ready to face him yet. Instead she looked away, focusing on Bramblestar, who was issuing some final instructions, with Squirrelflight by his side.

“I know prey is scarce,” he meowed. “But you shouldn’t bother coming back until you have something to show for your efforts. If you’re real warriors, you’ll freeze your paws off if you have to, for the survival of your Clan.”

As she listened, Bristlefrost grew uneasy at the tone of her leader’s words. His voice sounded rougher than usual, not like the calm, measured leader Bristlefrost had always admired.

Squirrelflight seemed to share her misgivings. “Aren’t you being a little harsh?” she murmured to Bramblestar. “All the warriors are doing their best under very difficult conditions.”

Bramblestar whipped his head around to face her, a hostile light in his eyes. “You would make excuses for them,” he snapped. “You always had a soft spot for weak cats.”

Squirrelflight stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what he had said to her. Bristlefrost heard one or two stifled gasps from the cats around her and saw them exchanging uncomfortable glances.

Every cat knew that not many moons had passed since Squirrelflight and Leafpool had been gravely injured in a rockslide. Leafpool had died, and Squirrelflight had nearly died, her spirit walking in StarClan as her body healed. In part, it was her love for Bramblestar, and his for her, that had drawn her back into the living world.

So why is he being so mean to her now?

A heartbeat later, Bramblestar seemed to realize that he had gone too far. “I’m sorry if I’m being too stern,” he mumbled. “It’s just that my responsibilities as leader are weighing more heavily on me in these hard times. I can’t just stand by and see my Clan starve.”

“It’s okay,” Squirrelflight mewed, touching his shoulder with her tail-tip. “We understand.”

Maybe you do, Bristlefrost thought. I’m not sure I could be so forgiving.

“I’ll lead this hunt myself,” Bramblestar announced abruptly. Without another word, he stalked off toward the camp entrance. Squirrelflight gathered the remaining warriors with a wave of her tail, and they followed their Clan leader out into the forest.

“Was that weird or what?”

Bristlefrost started as she realized that Stemleaf had fallen into step beside her. For a moment she was so concerned by what she had just heard and seen that she scarcely reacted to having the cat she loved padding along so close to her. She simply nodded, wide-eyed, then slowed her pace until she was trailing behind the rest of the group.

Bristlefrost knew that this leaf-bare had been tough on every cat. They were all getting more irritable than usual. But if even Bramblestar, usually so even-tempered, was being affected, perhaps things were worse than she had realized.

This just shows that Rosepetal is right, she thought. I have to dedicate myself to being the best warrior I can be. Nothing is more important than ThunderClan’s survival—not even my heart.

The cats padded through the snow-covered forest, their ears pricked for the least sound and their jaws parted to taste the air for the scent of prey. Soon Bristlefrost’s paws were so numb she couldn’t feel them, and even her thick gray pelt was no protection against the probing claws of cold.

Now and again Bramblestar would signal with his tail for the hunting patrol to halt. They would raise their noses in the air, checking even more carefully for scent on every passing breeze. But however hard they tried, no cat could pick up the least trace of prey.

Moving along after one of these stops, Bristlefrost noticed that there was something strange about the way that Bramblestar was walking. Usually the ThunderClan leader passed through the forest as silent as the wind. Now he slammed his paws down, breaking twigs and crushing dead leaves.

If there is any prey out here, he’ll drive it all away, making that racket, Bristlefrost thought.

Squirrelflight was staring uneasily at Bramblestar as he blundered around a tree stump and stumbled over a projecting root.

“Bramblestar,” she began, bounding up to him, “are you—”

Bramblestar turned on her savagely. “For StarClan’s sake,” he hissed, “leave me alone! I’m fine. I don’t need—”

He broke off with a choking cry. Bristlefrost watched in horror as his legs buckled and he sank to the ground. He made one attempt to rise, his forepaws scrabbling in the snow, then flopped back into an unmoving heap.

Yowls of consternation came from the nearby cats. Bristlefrost let out a gasp of dismay and raced up to Bramblestar’s side. Squirrelflight was already checking on him.

“He’s breathing,” she meowed, her green eyes wide with fear. “But I can’t wake him.”

“What do you want us to do?” Bristlefrost asked.

Squirrelflight was clearly making a massive effort to pull herself together. “We have to get him back to the medicine cats’ den,” she replied. “Jayfeather and Alderheart will know what he needs.”

Bristlefrost looked helplessly around her. Some of the warriors were spread out, absorbed in their search for prey, still unaware of what had happened, while others clustered around, gazing in horror at their fallen leader.

“What about the hunt?” Bristlefrost asked. “Bramblestar told us not to go back to camp until we’d caught something.”

“He’s in no position to give orders right now,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “I’ll stay behind and finish the hunt with the rest of the patrol. Bramblestar will need something to eat if he’s to recover from this . . . whatever it is,” she added, a slight tremor in her voice. “Will you and Stemleaf take him back to camp?”

For a moment, Bristlefrost tensed. She hadn’t been alone with Stemleaf since that dreadful day she had told him how she felt about him. But she refused to think about that. Their Clan leader needed help; she and Stemleaf had to give it to him.

While Squirrelflight gathered the remaining warriors together, Stemleaf crouched down in the snow beside Bramblestar, and Bristlefrost pushed their leader onto his back. He was so deeply unconscious that he didn’t react at all to being moved.

“Uh . . . he’s a heavy cat!” Stemleaf gasped as he staggered to his paws. “And he’s cold. It feels like I’m carrying a load of snow.”

With Bristlefrost walking alongside and steadying Bramblestar on Stemleaf’s back, they slowly made their way through the forest. Bramblestar lay limp, his paws dangling; only the slight movement of his whiskers told Bristlefrost that he was still breathing.

When they reached the stone hollow, Thornclaw, who was on watch, took one look at them and raced across the camp to the medicine cats’ den. A few moments later he emerged from behind the bramble screen, with Alderheart just behind him.

“What happened?” Alderheart asked, hurrying up to Bramblestar’s side.

While Stemleaf carried Bramblestar into the den, Bristlefrost explained how Bramblestar had seemed to lose his focus in the hunt, and then had collapsed and not moved or spoken since.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Alderheart murmured.

Bristlefrost felt a jolt of fear at her heart. She had assumed that once Bramblestar reached the medicine cats, they would know what to do. Instead Alderheart was gazing at him with all the confusion and worry that she felt. Of course—Bramblestar wasn’t only Alderheart’s Clan leader; he was his father too.

At Alderheart’s direction, she pulled together moss and bracken from the store in the den to make a nest for Bramblestar. Stemleaf lowered him gently into it.

“He’s so cold,” Alderheart mewed, stretching out a paw to touch Bramblestar’s forehead. “I just don’t understand. He was fine when he left for the hunt. How did he get sick so quickly?”

Neither Bristlefrost nor Stemleaf could answer that question.

“Is he losing a life?” Bristlefrost asked.

Alderheart shook his head. “No, not yet. But if we can’t give him the right treatment soon, he will.”

Leaving his father’s side, Alderheart padded to the back of the den where the medicine cats kept their herbs. Bristlefrost lingered, watching him curiously; he was sorting through the various heaps, but he didn’t seem to know what he was looking for.

As she watched, the bramble screen at the entrance to the den was brushed back, and Jayfeather appeared. He halted, sniffing, then asked, “Bramblestar’s here? What’s happening?”

Alderheart came forward again and explained to Jayfeather what Bristlefrost had told him. “Bramblestar needs treatment,” he finished. “But I’m not sure what to do for him.”

“I’ll examine him,” Jayfeather began, then broke off and swung around so that he was facing Bristlefrost; she found it hard to believe that he couldn’t see her.

“What are you doing, hanging about here like a spare piece of prey?” he demanded. “Out. Now.”

“Okay.” Bristlefrost turned to go, hearing Jayfeather ask if Alderheart had given Bramblestar anything.

“No, I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Alderheart replied.

As he spoke, Bristlefrost heard a sudden rustling, and a weak voice calling, “Alderheart?”

Bristlefrost spun around to see Bramblestar struggling to sit up, his amber eyes wide and intense. Alderheart sprang to his side, supporting his father against his shoulder.

“Alderheart . . . I must talk to you.” Bramblestar’s voice was weak, his words separated by desperate gasps, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.

“No, you have to rest,” Alderheart mewed. “You’re here in my den; we’ll take care of you.”

“No . . .” Bramblestar’s tail lashed once and for a moment Bristlefrost caught a glimpse of the strong and positive leader he had always been. “Listen. I had a terrible dream. . . .”

“Let him talk,” Jayfeather meowed. “Whatever it is, he needs to get it off his chest.”

“I saw the Clans fighting one another,” Bramblestar went on, his voice strengthening slightly. “Everything was chaos. The sky was dark—there were no stars, only a thin claw-scratch of a moon. And then even that faded, and I couldn’t see the cats anymore. I could only hear their terrible howls and screeches as the battle went on.”

Alderheart stifled a gasp, deep trouble in his face. “There were no stars . . . ,” he whispered.

“Is it true?” Bramblestar asked. “Has StarClan forsaken us?”

Alderheart glanced up at Jayfeather, then back at his father. At the same moment, Bristlefrost saw Jayfeather’s expression change to mingled anger and panic.

“Alderheart!” Jayfeather took a pace toward the younger medicine cat, his tail raised as if to prevent the younger cat from speaking.

Alderheart shook his head slightly. “The time for silence is over,” he told Jayfeather. “Yes, it’s true,” he responded to his father’s question. “StarClan still isn’t sending us messages, and we don’t know why.”

Bristlefrost felt a jolt in her belly as if some cat had thrown a rock at her. I had no idea! she thought. Still nothing from StarClan, moons later? Is that why Jayfeather and Alderheart have been looking so stressed lately?

“The medicine cats decided we would say nothing!” Jayfeather snapped. “Alderheart, you agreed—”

“You can’t hide StarClan’s abandonment from the leaders!” Bramblestar interrupted him. “It’s far too serious. Alderheart, you were right to be honest.” His chest heaved again, his back arching, as if he was struggling to stay conscious. His voice rasped as he continued, “I’ll remember you were honest, when not many cats were.”

And what does that mean? Bristlefrost wondered. Jayfeather looked taken aback, as if he didn’t understand it, either.

“Action must be taken,” Bramblestar went on, still in the same throaty tone. “But Alderheart, you shouldn’t be afraid. You’ve done the right thing by telling me.”

“What action?” Alderheart asked, his expression uncertain. “Bramblestar, tell us what you want us to do.”

Another spasm shook Bramblestar’s body, and his voice had weakened again as he replied, “Fetch Squirrelflight. . . . Tell the leaders. . . . You must get back in touch with StarClan!”

Alderheart looked up and spotted Bristlefrost still standing beside the entrance to the den. “Fetch Squirrelflight,” he repeated.

Bristlefrost nodded, but before she could move, another convulsion shook Bramblestar. He reared up out of his nest, all four paws lashing as if he was trying to attack an enemy. His head was thrown back, his jaws stretched wide in a terrible silent wailing. Then he went limp and collapsed to lie unmoving among the moss and bracken.