The Silent Thaw

Chapter 10

Rootpaw hunched his shoulders miserably as he followed Dewspring down the steep trail toward camp, despair clinging to his fur like heavy rain. Another training session with his mentor, and another day where Rootpaw seemed to mess up everything.

Dewspring’s tail flicked crossly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to snap out of it. It’s like trying to train a kit. You’re always watching something else when you should be listening to me. How will you ever learn if you don’t focus? You should be ready for your assessment by now, but I don’t trust you not to wander off in the middle of it and forget what you’re doing.”

Pelt prickling with frustration, Rootpaw padded into camp after his mentor. At this rate, he was never going to pass his assessment and show Leafstar and Dewspring that he could be a good warrior. He felt a twinge of annoyance in his belly fur. His training would surely be going better if he didn’t have Bramblestar’s ghost on his tail all the time, pestering him to take a message to Squirrelflight.

How, exactly, am I supposed do that? There was no way ThunderClan’s deputy would believe the story Rootpaw had to tell her. Especially if she heard it from a SkyClan apprentice. He’d just cause more trouble for the Clans, and for what?

Dewspring stopped at the edge of the clearing, gazing at him so intently, Rootpaw couldn’t help staring down at the ground. He was keenly aware of his Clanmates relaxing in the midday sunshine. Needlepaw was chattering with Wrenpaw and Kitescratch. Tree was hooking mice from the fresh-kill pile and inspecting them carefully, as though looking for one he liked. Violetshine and Palesky watched Pigeonfoot, who was demonstrating how he’d caught a bat mid-flight yesterday evening. Every cat seemed happy except Rootpaw. He looked at Dewspring, wishing he could explain that there was a good reason he was messing up in training so much. But even if he told his mentor what it was, he felt sure it would sound like nothing but a desperate excuse. “I’ll try harder,” he mumbled.

His heart sank even deeper as he saw Leafstar look toward him.

Her eyes were dark as she exchanged glances with Dewspring. Has he warned her how badly I’m doing?

The SkyClan leader crossed the clearing and stopped beside them. “Again?” she mewed heavily, her gaze resting on Rootpaw.

He has told her. Rootpaw wished he could melt into the earth as Dewspring sighed.

“He’s still not concentrating,” the gray tom growled.

“Rootpaw.” Leafstar stared at him sternly. “I don’t mind if apprentices find their training challenging. I expect it to be challenging. Learning is hard. But Dewspring told me you had promise. I thought I’d be giving you your warrior name by now. You certainly have the ability, but you can’t be spending your training sessions mooning over some cat who doesn’t even live in our Clan. It’s a waste of your time—yours and your mentor’s.”

Rootpaw blinked at her. “I’m not mooning.”

“Really?” She sounded unconvinced. “I can’t think why else Dewspring would tell me you spend most of your training staring into the trees when you should be watching prey.”

Rootpaw tried not to see the disappointment in her eyes. It was bad enough that Dewspring was looking at him like he’d caught a beetle instead of a mouse.

“The Clans are on edge,” Leafstar went on. “Who knows what will happen next? We’ve had no word from StarClan. Bramblestar is spreading panic and fear, throwing around accusations about codebreakers. If he’s trying to use StarClan’s silence to make ThunderClan more powerful, we need to be on the alert. SkyClan needs strong, reliable warriors. There’s no time for your antics. You need to try harder. You owe it to your Clan, to your mentor, and to yourself.”

He met her gaze, longing to explain that he could be a good warrior if only a certain dead cat would leave him in peace. Did Bramblestar’s ghost realize how much trouble it was causing? It should be here now, watching this. “I’m sorry,” Rootpaw mumbled.

“‘Sorry’ catches no prey.” Leafstar whisked her tail angrily. “I want to see some changes.” She stalked away, her pelt ruffling along her spine.

Rootpaw looked apologetically at Dewspring. His mentor was staring at him with undisguised exasperation. “I’m really sorry,” Rootpaw mumbled again.

Dewspring flattened his ears. “Don’t waste your breath,” he growled. “Just try harder.” He followed Leafstar back to her den and stopped beside her. They talked softly, leaning close, and Rootpaw could tell they were discussing him, his paw pads tingling with a mix of guilt and embarrassment. He wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of—failing his warrior assessment, or his leader and mentor finding out why he was doing so badly at his training.

Was there any way that he would be able to get rid of the ghost? He’d consulted Fidgetflake; he’d tried to get Tree to see it. Nothing had helped. He glanced at his father, who’d plucked a skinny mouse from the fresh-kill pile and was carrying it toward the shady patch beside the dogwood where he liked to eat alone. I have to tell him. He needed to share his secret before it got him into more trouble. Tree was the only cat in SkyClan who might understand what it was like to be plagued by a dead cat. And Tree was his father. He had to believe him, didn’t he?

His paws felt heavy as he padded across the grass. His father looked up as he neared, his eyes rounding. “Hey, Rootpaw. Is everything okay?” He tipped his head to one side. “I saw Leafstar was talking to you. She looked kind of angry. Did you forget a battle move? Or catch the wrong sort of mouse?”

“No.” Rootpaw’s pelt ruffled with irritation. He knew his father hadn’t wanted to be a warrior himself, but could he not take his own son’s ambition seriously?

Tree pushed the mouse toward him. “Sit down and have a bite,” he mewed gently. “You can tell me why you look like a sparrow that’s lost its chick.”

Rootpaw glanced over his shoulder. Leafstar and Dewspring were still talking. Leafstar’s gaze flitted toward him. He shifted his paws self-consciously. “Can we talk about it outside?” he asked Tree.

Tree eyed his mouse, then met Rootpaw’s gaze. “I guess this can wait.” He got to his paws, his eyes glittering suddenly with worry. “It sounds important,” he mewed. “Should I ask Violetshine to join us?”

“Violetshine won’t be able to help with this.” Rootpaw headed for the entrance.

Tree padded beside him, his fur fluffed. Rootpaw glanced at his father. Is he pleased I’m asking him for help? He slid after Tree through the ferns at the entrance to the camp and climbed up the steep slope between the boulders, pausing as he reached the top.

Ahead of him, hills rolled toward the mountains. He took a deep breath of crisp, clean air and faced his father. “I keep seeing a ghost,” he blurted. He waited for his father’s eyes to light up. He’ll be proud that I’m like him. His pelt ruffled irritably.

Tree eyed him thoughtfully without speaking.

“I thought you’d understand,” Rootpaw pressed. Why wasn’t Tree saying anything? Doesn’t he believe me? His chest tightened. “Except it’s not a ghost. It’s Bramblestar’s ghost. But it can’t be, because Bramblestar is alive. Am I imagining it? Is it normal? It’s driving me crazy.” His heart quickened as Tree frowned. “Perhaps I am crazy. I’m the only one who can see him. And he’s started talking to me. Asking me to help him. How can I help a dead cat? I’m not even—”

“Slow down.” Tree moved closer, his gaze fixed on Rootpaw’s.

“But you think I’m crazy, right? I can tell by the way you’re looking at me.” Panic began to spiral in Rootpaw’s belly. The ground seemed to sway beneath his paws. If Tree thought he was crazy, perhaps he was crazy.

“You’re not crazy,” Tree mewed firmly. “I don’t know how you’re seeing the ghost of a living cat. But I believe you, and we’re going to sort this out.”

Rootpaw’s throat tightened. He felt an overwhelming desire to bury his muzzle in Tree’s fur, as he’d done when he was a kit. He was relieved that the ghost wasn’t his secret anymore. And Tree believed him. He blinked at his father. “It’s been happening since before the Gathering. That’s why I ran out. I saw him looking at me. He knew I could see him. It freaked me out when he wanted to talk to me.”

“That must have been very scary.” Tree ran his tail along Rootpaw’s spine. “Do you think Bramblestar’s ghost wants to hurt you?”

“No,” Rootpaw told him quickly. “He seems as confused as I am. He just wants to understand why he’s a ghost when his body is still leader of ThunderClan. He says it’s been stolen, and he doesn’t know what to do. I’m the only cat who can see, and he wants me to help him.”

Tree sat down and gazed across the hilltops. “So a ghost can take over another cat’s body?” He frowned, clearly puzzled.

“It only took over when Bramblestar died on the moor.” Rootpaw told Tree what the ghost had told him.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“But it’s happened now.”

Tree paused for a moment, then tipped his head thoughtfully to one side. “I guess it explains why Bramblestar has been behaving so strangely. But who would want to take over his body?” He looked at Rootpaw. “If it’s not Bramblestar, who is it?”

Rootpaw shrugged.

“It must have something to do with all this nonsense about codebreakers,” Tree went on. “Whoever it is, they’re clearly trying to stir up trouble in the Clans.” He narrowed his eyes. “We’re going to have to tread carefully.”

“But if we warn the other Clans what’s happening, it’ll help, won’t it?” Rootpaw’s ears pricked with hope.

“Most warriors don’t see dead cats,” Tree told him. “They’re going to find this hard to believe. Can you imagine old warriors like Thornclaw or Emberfoot swallowing the idea of two Bramblestars—one dead and one alive?”

“But they believe in StarClan. And they fought alongside dead cats in the Great Battle, didn’t they?”

“That was moons ago,” Tree told him. “Before SkyClan even came here. And they all saw those dead cats. I’m not sure any cat will want to believe that a SkyClan apprentice, and you alone, can see the ghost of a living warrior. They might think we’re causing trouble for trouble’s sake.” His tail twitched uneasily. “If this living Bramblestar is trying to hurt the Clans, telling any cat that he’s a fake might just give him something new to sharpen his claws on.”

Rootpaw stared at him, his paws heavy with disappointment. He’d thought Tree might be able to help. He’s as powerless as I am. He blinked at his father. Or maybe not! Hope sparked suddenly from his desperation. “But you’re Clan mediator,” he mewed eagerly. “They’d believe you, wouldn’t they? Bramblestar wanted me to tell Squirrelflight. But I’m just an apprentice. I’ve got no reason to cross their border. You can visit ThunderClan easily. Just say it’s important Clan business and tell Squirrelflight that Bramblestar’s a fake.”

Tree gazed at him solemnly. “I can’t use my position like that,” he mewed gently. “If she doesn’t believe me, it will reflect badly on SkyClan. Squirrelflight could say that I’m trying to undermine ThunderClan. It could go very wrong. It might even start a battle. We can’t risk that until we’re sure of our facts.”

Rootpaw’s pelt tingled. He felt sure another pair of eyes was watching him. He turned around, his heart lurching as Bramblestar’s ghost padded toward him.

“Can he see me?” The ghost nodded toward Tree.

Rootpaw shook his head. “But I’ve told him about you.”

“Does he believe you?” Bramblestar’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes.” Rootpaw nudged his father. “Bramblestar’s ghost is here.”

Tree stiffened, looking around. “Where?”

“Over there.” Rootpaw flicked his tail toward the apparition. Its ghostly pelt was rippling like water in the sunshine.

Tree stared blankly at the patch of grass Rootpaw had pointed out.

“Can you see it now?” Rootpaw asked eagerly. Perhaps if he tried harder, now that he knew where the ghost was . . .

Tree shrugged. “I can’t see every dead cat.” He blinked at Rootpaw. “I wouldn’t want to.”

Bramblestar’s ghost was staring excitedly at Tree. “Is he going to help you speak to Squirrelflight?”

“He can’t,” Rootpaw told it. “Not without getting SkyClan in trouble with the other Clans.”

Bramblestar’s gaze darkened. “He could try.”

Rootpaw stretched his muzzle toward his father. “He wants you to try to talk to Squirrelflight,” he explained.

“I can’t.” Tree stared blankly into space, clearly trying to focus on the spot where he thought Bramblestar’s ghost stood. “This needs to come from Rootpaw. He’s the only cat who can help her speak to you, if she asks—which she certainly will, because she will want proof. And if she figures out that I’m lying, she might think it’s some kind of SkyClan plot. It could cause all sorts of trouble. . . .”

The ghost looked thoughtful. “I guess Rootpaw would sound more genuine.”

Rootpaw’s pelt bristled. “But I’m just an apprentice!” He shifted uncomfortably as Tree and Bramblestar’s ghost looked at him. “How am I even supposed to get into the ThunderClan camp?”

Tree narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You have a friend there, don’t you?”

Rootpaw fluffed out his fur indignantly. “Bristlefrost is not a friend. She’s just a cat I know.”

The ghost’s eyes sparked with hope. “You can visit her, though.”

“Not without getting into trouble!” Rootpaw glared at it.

Tree pricked his ears. “What did Bramblestar say?”

Rootpaw had forgotten that his father couldn’t hear Bramblestar’s ghost. “He thinks I should visit Bristlefrost.”

“Maybe not visit her, exactly,” Tree mewed. “But she might be able to help when you get there.”

“How do I get there?” Rootpaw’s heart was pounding. They were both acting like this was easy.

“You’ll have to sneak in,” Bramblestar’s ghost told him.

“Sneak in?” Rootpaw stared at the ghost, hardly able to believe his ears. A Clan leader was telling him to break the warrior code.

“I can help you,” the ghost pressed. “I know the territory. I can show you how to get to the camp without being seen.” It turned and headed along the hilltop. “Come on. We should go now. There’s no time to waste.”

Rootpaw blinked desperately at his father. “He wants me to go to the ThunderClan camp now,” he breathed. “He says he can help me get there without being seen.”

“You should go,” Tree told him. “If another spirit is using Bramblestar’s body, the Clans might be in danger.” He fixed Rootpaw’s gaze solemnly. “I know he’s asking you to do something dangerous and difficult, but I think you should try. If you get in trouble, I’ll do everything I can to help you. But I know you can do this. Squirrelflight needs to know, and if any cat can persuade her, you can.”

Rootpaw stared into Tree’s eyes, his heart pounding. Tree was right. If Bramblestar’s ghost needed help, he should help it. He nodded to his father. “I’ll do it.”

Bramblestar’s ghost was already disappearing over the crest of the hill. “Hurry up!” he yowled.

“Take care of yourself!”

Tree’s mew rang out across the grass as Rootpaw bounded to follow Bramblestar’s ghost downslope.

Rootpaw’s ears twitched nervously as he stepped across the ThunderClan border.

“This way.” Bramblestar’s ghost was barely visible in the shadowy forest as it hurried past a wide swath of brambles and stopped where the forest floor sloped into a lake of bracken.

Rootpaw hurried after it, keeping close as the apparition led him among the stems.

His nose twitched as ThunderClan scents bathed his muzzle. “Is there a patrol nearby?”

“I’ll scout ahead.” Bramblestar’s ghost signaled for him to stay where he was with a flick of its tail and disappeared. Rootpaw waited, his breath shallow with fear until the ghost finally returned. “It’s clear all the way to the bluebell glade. Quick.”

As Bramblestar moved silently through the stems, Rootpaw followed, wishing his pelt didn’t make them rustle.

“Stop.” The ghost’s order sent alarm spiking through Rootpaw’s chest. He froze as the ghost pulled up and peered from the undergrowth. “Patrol.”

Rootpaw pressed his belly to the earth, holding his breath as paw steps sounded in the distance. He was trembling by the time they’d passed and faded.

“Up here.” Bramblestar’s ghost climbed effortlessly into an oak and disappeared among the branches. Rootpaw followed, scanning the forest as he heaved himself up. The ghost’s pelt was barely visible in the shadows as Rootpaw followed it along a branch, and he watched, alarmed, as it leaped into the next tree. Teetering on the end, Rootpaw stared at the forest floor. He mustn’t fall. There was no cat here to help him. He bunched up his muscles, then leaped, digging his claws deep into the bark as he landed. The branch trembled beneath him, and he clung on tight until it stopped shaking.

Bramblestar’s ghost was already hurrying along it, past the trunk and onto the next branch. Rootpaw’s heart was pounding as he followed the apparition from one tree to the next, thankful for his SkyClan training. He’d never traveled so far in trees before, and by the time he finally leaped down onto the forest floor, his pelt was spiked with fear.

“The camp’s not far,” Bramblestar told him.

Rootpaw swallowed back his dread. If this was scary, what would it be like to sneak into ThunderClan’s camp? He hurried after the ghost as it ducked beneath a bramble.

“Squeeze under here,” it ordered. Rootpaw ducked down and hauled himself beneath the low bush, wincing as the prickles snagged his fur. He was sharply aware of the branches pressing around him. He was so far from home. His fear started to spiral. What am I doing? What if his fur got caught? Who’d drag him to safety? Not the ghost. The ghost couldn’t touch him. Panicking, he scrabbled forward, desperate to be out in the open. At least there he would be able to see where he was.

“Slow down!” The ghost’s fur shimmered among the stems. Alarm edged its mew.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” Blood roared in Rootpaw’s ears. He could hardly breathe beneath this dusty bush. Why had he agreed to such a dangerous mission? You’ll be okay, he told himself. You’re not trying to hurt any cat. This isn’t your fault. He saw open forest and made for it. As he hauled himself out, relief swept through him. He gulped in fresh air.

“Wait!” The ghost’s cry rang in his ears as sharp, strong ThunderClan scent bathed his tongue.

“What are you doing here?” He heard Molewhisker’s mew, his pelt spiking as he jerked around and found himself facing a ThunderClan patrol. Bristlefrost, Finleap, and Molewhisker were staring at him with wide, round eyes.

Molewhisker flattened his ears. Finleap’s pelt bristled with hostility. As Bristlefrost blinked at him, Rootpaw shrank away, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He hadn’t even made it to the ThunderClan camp. He stared helplessly at Mousewhisker, feeling Bristlefrost’s gaze burning his pelt. He looked around quickly for Bramblestar’s ghost but saw nothing. Turning back to Molewhisker, he tried to stop himself from shaking. “I’m sorry,” he mewed.

Molewhisker glanced at Bristlefrost, accusation flashing in his eyes. “Did you know he was coming?”

Bristlefrost stiffened. “No! I’d never break the code like that.”

Molewhisker nodded curtly and looked back at Rootpaw. The anger in his gaze made Rootpaw’s pads prick with fear. “We’d better take you to Bramblestar,” the ThunderClan warrior growled. “You can explain to him what you’re doing on our land.” He nudged Rootpaw forward roughly.

Rootpaw padded stiffly ahead, aware of the eyes of the ThunderClan patrol burning into his pelt as they fanned out around him. Dread gripped his belly. Why had he listened to his father and the ghost? They weren’t the ones who’d have to face Bramblestar. He forced himself not to tremble, suddenly aware that he’d made a terrible mistake.