The Silent Thaw

Chapter 4

“What are you staring at, Rootpaw?” Needlepaw sounded exasperated as she stared at her brother. “It’s like you’re somewhere else. This is a Gathering, remember? We should be honored Leafstar let us come. Look!”

Rootpaw followed Needlepaw’s gaze as it flashed around the island clearing, trying hard to focus his thoughts. Cats from every Clan crowded around them. Hawkwing and Macgyver were chatting with Cloverfoot. Violetshine had found Twigbranch and seemed to be peppering her with questions while her ThunderClan littermate blinked back at her, happily. Tree was deep in conversation with two RiverClan warriors. Rootpaw’s tail twitched. His sister was right. He should be paying attention. Gatherings were meant to be exciting. But Rootpaw couldn’t help scanning the clearing. Had Bramblestar’s ghost come here too?

The apparition had plagued him for a half-moon, flitting into view every few days. Nowhere was safe. It would appear in the camp clearing while Rootpaw was trying to eat. Its shimmering pelt would catch Rootpaw’s eye while he was hunting in the forest, glimmering between bushes as though tracking Rootpaw’s patrol. One night, Rootpaw had woken up to find Bramblestar’s ghost sitting silently beside his nest. Rootpaw’s pelt prickled at the memory. Seeing the real Bramblestar beneath the Great Oak only unnerved Rootpaw more. How could the ThunderClan leader be dead and alive at the same time?

“Rootpaw!” Needlepaw nudged him. “Look over there.” Her bright eyes were fixed on a group of young cats showing battle moves to one another at the edge of the clearing. Rootpaw stared at them mutely. He was still thinking about the ghost. What if it appeared here? Would any other cats see it? “You go talk to them.” He nudged Needlepaw away. “You can tell me about them later.”

Needlepaw narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting weird again.”

“Am I?” Rootpaw blinked at her innocently. He couldn’t let her find out what was unnerving him. She’d think he had bees in his brain. Or worse. She’d think he was like Tree. “I guess I’m just worried about my assessment.”

“You don’t even know when it is. Why bother—” Needlepaw hesitated. She was staring at Bristlefrost moving toward them through the crowd. She gave Rootpaw a knowing look. “I understand now,” she purred. “You want to talk to Bristlefrost.” She shrugged and began to head toward the ThunderClan apprentices. “I’ll leave you in peace,” she teased. “But don’t let Leafstar see. She doesn’t approve of cats having mates in other Clans.”

“She’s not my mate!” Rootpaw’s pelt felt hot as he yowled after his sister.

“Hey, Rootpaw.” Bristlefrost’s friendly mew made him jump. She had reached him already.

“Hi, Bristlefrost,” he mewed quickly. “How’s ThunderClan?”

“Good, I guess.” She blinked at him. “How’s your training going?” She tipped her head to one side kindly, as though asking a kit if they liked playing moss-ball.

“Fine.” Rootpaw fluffed out his fur. “I’ll probably be assessed soon.”

“Really?” she looked surprised. “I thought you’d be training for moons yet.”

“It might be any day.” Rootpaw’s pelt ruffled hotly along his spine. Did she think he was too young to become a warrior, or just mouse-brained?

She shifted her paws. “I mean,” she corrected herself, suddenly self-conscious, “it seems so quick. I feel like I’ve only just gotten my warrior name.”

“Maybe other Clans train their apprentices differently,” he suggested. “But in SkyClan you don’t have to be an apprentice to learn. Warriors learn new skills all the time.”

“I guess.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Like, the other day, Blossomfall taught me how to track birds from the forest floor. I’d never tried it before. Have you?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she began to explain. “You have to choose a bird and keep your eye on it. You can’t stop watching for a moment. One blink and you could lose it among the leaves.”

Rootpaw guessed she was just trying to be nice, but he didn’t like being told something he knew already. “We track birds a lot in SkyClan.”

“Really?” Bristlefrost didn’t seem to hear him. Her attention had flitted to the Great Oak, where the leaders were scrambling onto the lowest branch. “I’d better go,” she mewed. “Bramblestar’s announcing Thriftear’s and Flipclaw’s warrior names. I want to be the first to yowl them out.” Before he could say good-bye, she slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

Feeling unsatisfied, Rootpaw nosed his way between his Clanmates. He hadn’t said anything clever or funny, but nor had Bristlefrost. Perhaps he didn’t like her as much as he used to. It was for the best; after all, they were from different Clans.

Tree and Violetshine were at the edge of the clearing with Sandynose and Plumwillow. Rootpaw settled between them as Needlepaw arrived. When she reached Rootpaw, she was out of breath. “The new apprentices are called Myrtlepaw and Baypaw,” she whispered. “Aren’t ThunderClan names strange?”

“No stranger than Needlepaw.” Rootpaw blinked at her.

Needlepaw looked worried. “Do you think Needlepaw is a strange name?”

“Of course not.” He nudged her. “I was just teasing.”

“Hush.” Violetshine swished her tail at her kits and looked up at the oak.

Tigerstar had stepped to the edge of the branch. “Puddleshine’s apprentice has received his medicine-cat name.” His mew rang out over the gathered cats. “From now on, he will be known as Shadowsight.”

“Shadowsight!” The ShadowClan warriors chanted his name proudly. Kestrelflight, Alderheart, and Jayfeather joined in as Shadowsight shifted self-consciously beside them.

Rootpaw caught Shadowsight’s eye and nodded. He’d met the medicine cat a few times in the forest, and he liked him. He seemed less intimidating than the older medicine cats.

As the yowling died away, Tigerstar went on. “Prey is beginning to return after the long leaf-bare. We will have full bellies within a moon.” He looked toward Bramblestar as though inviting the ThunderClan leader to speak next.

Bramblestar bowed his head. “We have new warriors,” he told the gathered cats. His gaze flitted toward his Clanmates, crowding at the far edge of the clearing. “Thriftear and Flipclaw passed their assessment. It won’t be long before they’re leading their own patrols.” His gaze settled on Bristlefrost for a moment. “In ThunderClan, we believe in encouraging our younger warriors to take on new and challenging responsibilities as soon as they’re able.”

Bristlefrost glanced shyly at her paws.

Has she been given special duties? Rootpaw narrowed his eyes. Perhaps that was why she’d seemed distracted. His old affection for her filled his heart once again. How could he forget that she’d pulled him out of the frozen lake two moons ago and saved him from drowning? As he watched her, a familiar shape moved behind the ThunderClan cats. His heart sank as he recognized the shimmering outline, pale against the forest behind. Bramblestar’s ghost. He jerked his muzzle back to the real Bramblestar, who was still speaking from the Great Oak.

“Our two new ’paws will soon be warriors,” he told the Gathering confidently. “And ThunderClan will be stronger than ever.”

Mistystar stepped forward. “RiverClan is strong too.” Rootpaw looked away as she began to address the Clans. How could he concentrate on what they were saying when the ghost of a living cat was skulking at the edge of the clearing? He tried not to look at the apparition. He’d been avoiding its eye since the first time he’d seen it, pretending as hard as he could that he was as unaware of its presence as his Clanmates. He could see ghostly Bramblestar now, pacing impatiently, like a loner trapped in a kittypet den, his gaze flashing from the leaders to the warriors. Was it hoping some cat here would see it?

I know how you feel. Rootpaw scanned the gathered cats. Were any of them looking at Bramblestar’s ghost? He glanced at Tree. Could his father see it? He hesitated. But Bramblestar wasn’t dead. He was staring at the Gathering from the Great Oak. Rootpaw blinked hopefully at the medicine cats. Perhaps they could see the ghost? But their gazes were fixed on the leaders, unaware that anything was wrong.

“Rootpaw!” Violetshine hissed in his ear. “Stop staring around the clearing and concentrate. This is a Gathering. You need to pay attention.” She nudged him sharply, and he dragged his gaze back to the Great Oak. Harestar was looking toward the medicine cats, lined beneath the branch. “Kestrelflight joined the other medicine cats for the half-moon meeting at the Moonpool.” The WindClan leader’s eyes glittered with worry as he looked expectantly at the mottled gray tom. “He wants to tell you what they saw.”

Kestrelflight glanced at Frecklewish and Alderheart before he spoke. “The Moonpool has begun to thaw,” he reported. “We expected to be able to share with StarClan.” His ears twitched uncertainly. “But there was no word from them.”

“Was there no vision at all?” Tawnypelt blinked from among the ShadowClan cats.

“We thought it was the ice that stopped you seeing StarClan!” Hootwhisker yowled, the fur rising along his spine. His Clanmates exchanged nervous glances.

Kestrelflight shrugged. “Perhaps they have nothing to share with us,” he suggested.

Alderheart shifted beside him. “We’ve made it through leaf-bare,” he agreed. “If there’s no threat to the Clans, why would StarClan want to share with us?”

Hopeful murmurs of agreement rippled among the warriors.

“No news is good news,” Sandynose meowed loudly.

“Perhaps they want to see if we can manage without them,” Snowbird suggested.

“Why would they do that?” Tawnypelt looked unconvinced. “They’ve always shared with us in the past. Why would they suddenly stop?”

In the uneasy silence that followed, Bramblestar frowned. “Has Shadowsight heard anything?”

“None of us have,” Kestrelflight told him.

“But Shadowsight has a special connection with StarClan,” Bramblestar pressed. “He was the only medicine cat who shared with them during leaf-bare.” His gaze fixed on the young ShadowClan medicine cat. “Are you sure you’ve heard nothing?”

Shadowsight stared at his paws, his fur pricking around his shoulders. “I’m sure,” he mumbled.

Bramblestar swept his gaze around the Clans. “Perhaps StarClan is angry at us for not following the code.”

Rootpaw stiffened as the gathered cats swapped uneasy glances. Not this again. Bramblestar had mentioned the code at the last Gathering too. His suggestion that cats should accuse one another of crimes against the code had made Tree wonder about leaving the Clans. Did the other Clans think the ThunderClan leader was right?

Could that be why Bramblestar’s ghost was here now? Had StarClan somehow sent the ghost of his first life to support the living leader’s message? Should I tell some cat? Rootpaw’s pads tingled nervously. There was no way he was telling any cat he could see dead cats. He wasn’t weird like Tree. He glanced at the apparition, wishing it would go away.

The dead Bramblestar was staring at the living Bramblestar, his ghostly pelt spiked with fury. Why was he angry? Wasn’t he relieved to see he still had a body to return to? And yet how could he return to his body, when he was already in it? Rootpaw’s head began to ache. This was too confusing. He glanced again at the medicine cats. They were trying to contact StarClan, and here was a ghost, walking among them. Surely one of them must see him!

He stiffened. Alderheart was staring at the apparition. Could he see it? Rootpaw leaned forward eagerly. Why not? Bramblestar was his father. The ThunderClan medicine cat must have a closer connection with the ghost than any cat. Leaves fluttered suddenly from a branch above Bramblestar’s ghost. Rootpaw glimpsed gray fur as a squirrel raced along it and disappeared up the trunk. His heart dropped like a stone as he saw Alderheart’s gaze flash after the squirrel. He was watching prey! Dismayed, Rootpaw swallowed back a sigh. I’m really the only cat who can see it.

Feeling suddenly alone, Rootpaw stared at the gathered cats. Why me? It’s not fair.

“That’s nonsense!” Dovewing’s angry mew made him jerk his muzzle toward her. Had he spoken out loud? The ShadowClan cat was staring indignantly at the real Bramblestar. “StarClan would never choose to turn their tails on us,” she called. “Something must be stopping them from making contact.”

“Well, it’s not ice that’s silencing them,” Jayfeather grunted. “The Moonpool is thawing.”

Bramblestar stared fiercely back at Dovewing from the Oak. “You just don’t want to believe that StarClan is angry with us for breaking the code,” he snapped. “Because you’re one of the cats who broke it.”

Tigerstar bristled beside the ThunderClan leader. “Don’t talk to her like that—”

Mistystar stepped between them. “Getting angry won’t help.”

Bramblestar puffed out his chest. “If we’d gotten angry earlier, we wouldn’t have so many codebreakers in the Clans.” His accusing gaze swept around the cats below him. “And StarClan might still be speaking to us.”

As the gathered cats glanced nervously at each other, Crowfeather flattened his ears. “Do you really think StarClan wants us to start throwing around accusations? They want peace in the Clans, not arguments.”

Bramblestar growled. His gaze flashed to the WindClan deputy. “You’re just another codebreaker in denial about what’s really going on!”

Shocked mews sounded from WindClan. ShadowClan cats were exchanging anxious looks. Rootpaw shifted closer to Needlepaw. Why was Bramblestar upsetting every cat? What made him so sure that StarClan was angry with them?

Bramblestar’s gaze gleamed with determination. “StarClan is silent for a reason. It’s perfectly clear to me what we have to do to bring them back. We must make sure the warrior code is respected and upheld.”

As he spoke, ghostly fur flickered at the edge of Rootpaw’s vision. Alarmed, he jerked his gaze toward it. Bramblestar’s ghost was moving fast toward the Great Oak, ears flat, teeth bared. Was it going to attack the real Bramblestar? Rootpaw stared, fear sparking in his paws. The ghost suddenly turned, its spectral gaze locked with Rootpaw’s so intensely that it seemed to burn deep into his thoughts. Panic shrilled through his fur. It knows I can see him! Blood roaring in his ears, Rootpaw turned and fled. He plunged into the long grass, then hared toward the tree-bridge. Pelt spiked with terror, he exploded from the grass. I have to escape! The tree-bridge was a few tail-lengths ahead. He made for it, his breath shallow, and leaped onto the fallen tree. The frost on the bark made his paws slip, and he jerked sideways to keep his balance

“You have to help me!” A voice sounded behind him. Rootpaw skidded to a clumsy halt on the tree-bridge. Dread weighted his paws. I can’t outrun a spirit. He turned, trembling.

Bramblestar’s ghost stood below him on the shore. Behind, the long grass was still shivering where Rootpaw had charged through it. The ghost eyed him, desperation in its pale gaze. “You’re the only cat who can see me, and I don’t know how long I can last like this.” It took another stop forward.

Rootpaw scrabbled backward. “Stay away!” His paws slipped again. Alarm flared beneath his pelt as he slithered sideways and tumbled from the bridge. He hit the water with a splash. The cold snatched his breath as he sank. Flailing, he tried to keep his head above the surface as he reached for the lakebed with his hind paws. But there was only water beneath him, and he sank deeper into the chilly blackness.

Terror burned beneath his pelt. He churned his paws, hauling himself upward long enough to poke his muzzle into air. He gasped for breath, swallowing water as he sank again. Help! He remembered how he’d fallen into the lake before. Bristlefrost had fished him out, but she wasn’t here now. His Clanmates were in the clearing. Help! He fought for the surface once more. As he broke it, he saw Bramblestar’s ghost leaning down from the tree-bridge. A ghostly paw swung toward him.

“Grab it!” Bramblestar’s faint mew echoed in the moonlight. Eyes stinging, heart pounding, Rootpaw thrust a foreleg above the surface, reaching for the apparition. His paw swished through the ghostly silhouette. He can’t touch me! The hope that had flashed for a moment in Rootpaw’s heart flickered out. With a wail he sank beneath the rippling water.

He struck out again, not for the surface this time, but forward. If he could push himself to the bank, he’d find the shallows. Lungs screaming for air, he thrashed the water, kicking out with every leg, hope rising again as he moved beneath the surface. His forepaw struck something hard. The lakebed. It was rising to meet the shore. He dug his claws into the sandy earth and hauled himself toward it until he felt solid ground beneath every paw, and felt the fresh night air bathe his head. Pulling himself forward, he gulped a desperate breath and staggered from the lake, trembling with terror and the cold. Teeth chattering, he shook out his pelt.

“Rootpaw!” Needlepaw dashed across the tree-bridge and landed on the shore behind him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The Gathering must have ended, because the cats were leaving the island, pouring along the long grass and filing across the bridge. As he struggled to calm himself, his Clanmates streamed around him.

“How did you fall into the lake again?” Kitescratch stared at him, his whiskers trembling with amusement.

Needlepaw turned on the brown tom. “He could have drowned!”

Violetshine wove around Rootpaw. He could feel her pelt prickling with fear. “What happened?” she mewed.

“I slipped on the frozen bark,” Rootpaw told her, rubbing water from his eyes with his paw.

Dewspring reached him. His mentor gazed at him sternly. “You shouldn’t have run out of the Gathering like that. How does it look to the other Clans if one of our apprentices hares away for no reason?”

“Leave him alone!” Violetshine glared at Dewspring. “He could have drowned.”

“Don’t be mouse-brained,” Dewspring snapped back. “There are only a few tail-lengths of water between the island and the shore. Even a mouse could have swum it.” His gaze flitted back to Rootpaw. “Why did you run away?”

Rootpaw stared at his mentor. He couldn’t tell him that he’d seen Bramblestar’s ghost. He couldn’t tell any cat. They’d think he was mouse-brained. Or lying. Or just weird, like Tree. “I’m sorry.” He looked at the ground, trying to stop himself from trembling. At least his Clanmates were here now. Bramblestar’s ghost wouldn’t try to talk to him while they were here, would it?

“Come on.” Violetshine nudged him along the shore. “Walking will warm you up.” She pressed close beside him as they followed their campmates toward their border. Tree slid in on the other side, his gaze soft with concern, and Rootpaw was grateful for the warmth of their pelts.

As they neared the forest, he glimpsed a ghostly form in the trees. Was Bramblestar’s ghost still following him? Dismayed, he pressed closer to Violetshine. He was going to have to do something about the apparition. But what could he do? It wants my help. But what could Rootpaw do? I’m not even sure if it’s real. As his fur began to dry in the chilly night breeze, Rootpaw tried to think of a plan. His heart felt heavy.

If none of the other cats at the Gathering could see the ghost, it was up to him. Ignoring it wasn’t working. Rootpaw was going to have to talk to the ghost.

The thought sent a chill through his whole body. Maybe, he thought, I should talk to a medicine cat first. . . .