Veil Of Shadows

Chapter 7

Shadowsight was floating in a dreamless haze when a voice cut through the fog and called his name. It seemed to be coming from an immense distance, and though it was vaguely familiar, Shadowsight couldn’t quite place it. Slowly he opened his eyes, feeling as though he had been asleep for a long time. When he tried to stretch his limbs, the movement felt strange, as if he wasn’t in control of his body.

All around him was gray mist; though he blinked several times, it didn’t clear. Dark shapes that might have been large rocks loomed around him. All he could see were twin points of yellow light, piercing the gloom. Gradually a shape formed around them and became a cat: a skinny black tom with yellow eyes fixed intently on him. Shadowsight felt that he ought to recognize him, but he was so confused that the name wouldn’t come to him.

Then the black tom spoke. “Greetings, Shadowsight.”

The voice was the same one that had been calling to him, and with a gasp Shadowsight remembered. “Spiresight!” Warm gratitude filled him. “I can’t believe it’s you! I thought you went to StarClan. That’s why my father gave you a warrior name.”

Spiresight shook his head. “I chose not to go to StarClan, so that I could watch over you,” he explained. “I haven’t been around all the time, but I’ve checked on you regularly since I died. And I’m very proud of the cat you have become.”

Shadowsight blinked, bewildered by everything he had to take in, but happy to be with the cat who had done so much for him and his kin. “I never saw you,” he mewed. “How is it that I’m talking to you now?”

The black tom hesitated for a heartbeat before he replied. “Three nights ago, I saw a cat attack you, and when you were unconscious, he threw you into this ravine.”

Horror coursed through Shadowsight, and he felt every hair on his pelt rise. Now he remembered the slash of sharp, curved claws and realized that his whole body should be throbbing with pain. But I can’t feel anything. “Am I dead?” he asked. “Where am I?”

“You’re not dead,” Spiresight replied. “At first I was afraid you were, but then I realized that you were still breathing—just. But you must have been seriously injured, because until now I couldn’t communicate with you at all—not even with your spirit.”

Shadowsight took in a shaky breath. “Spirit?” he whispered. “Am I a ghost?”

Spiresight had just told him that he wasn’t dead, but Shadowsight wasn’t sure he could believe him. Maybe I am, and I’ll never see my kin again! Then he realized that if he was dead, he should be in StarClan, but this place was completely unfamiliar to him. For a moment he felt so confused that he just wanted to close his eyes again and forget everything.

Instead Shadowsight took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up. Looking around, he saw that the mist had dissipated and the ravine was gradually coming into focus around him. He and Spiresight were sitting on a flat rock jutting out of the steep wall, about halfway down. The narrow gully seemed to be about fifteen or twenty tail-lengths high, with a small stream running along the bottom. Outcrops of rock poked out from the thin, sandy soil, with thick bushes rooted among them. Shadowsight didn’t recognize the place; he was sure it wasn’t on ShadowClan territory.

I don’t suppose many cats come here, he thought. Scrambling among these rocks would be really hard.

“I wanted to get help for you,” Spiresight went on, “but I didn’t want to leave you in case you woke up.”

Shadowsight blinked affectionately at his old friend. “You were always a loyal cat,” he murmured. “It makes sense that you would be a loyal ghost.”

Spiresight ducked his head, embarrassment in his yellow eyes. “You must have begun to heal from your injuries,” he meowed, “if I’m able to speak with you now. But you’re still in great danger. You’re hovering between life and death.”

Angling his ears, he gestured to Shadowsight to turn and look into the ravine in the other direction. Shadowsight took in a rasping breath as he spotted his own body lying sprawled beside a twisted thorn tree a couple of tail-lengths farther down. He couldn’t believe how battered he looked, his fur torn and matted and a dried trickle of blood spilling from his forehead and over his muzzle. At first he thought that he must be dead after all, until he spotted the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“I’m between life and death?” he asked, echoing Spiresight’s words. He remembered that after Leafpool’s death Jayfeather had said something similar to the medicine cats, how Squirrelflight and Leafpool had been between two worlds. Jayfeather explained that Squirrelflight had come back, while Leafpool had moved on to StarClan, but Shadowsight had found it hard to imagine.

“Thank you for what you’ve done,” he told Spiresight, not waiting for an answer. “But we need to tell a medicine cat about me. I need real treatment!”

Spiresight gave him a doubtful look. “I thought of that,” he responded, “but I didn’t know which cats I could trust . . . it must have been a Clan cat who did this to you.”

“Really?” Shadowsight didn’t want to believe what his friend had told him, but at the same time a terrible certainty washed over him, icy as a river in leaf-bare. Once more the brief memory of the attack flashed into his mind, this time bringing with it a strong scent of catmint.

The attacker masked his scent with herbs. Only a Clan cat would bother to do that.

“I’m sure of it,” Spiresight assured him, his voice heavy with the knowledge. “I was so shocked, and so worried about you, and in the darkness I didn’t get a good look at the cat. I only detected a Clan scent, mingled with catmint. We need to find out who attacked you, and it will be easier for you to do that as a ghost.”

Shadowsight didn’t think it would be easy at all. The problem seemed like a huge cliff that he didn’t have the strength to climb. It was impossible to think about it, and his mind slid away to something else that was troubling him.

“I was on my way to a medicine-cat meeting,” he meowed. “Do you know what happened there?”

Spiresight shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I do know cats have been looking for you.” Spiresight’s serious gaze fixed on him. “But I’ve heard . . . troubling mutterings from some of your Clanmates.”

Cold claws seemed to grip Shadowsight’s heart as he listened to Spiresight’s words. He remembered how some of his Clanmates had reacted when he’d first begun to have visions. What he saw was so unusual that many of his own Clanmates had thought he was weird or dangerous, until he had finally been accepted by the other medicine cats. “I know some of them think I’m odd,” he murmured. “But surely they would never . . .” His voice faded away as he looked down at his own battered body.

“Are you willing to bet your life on it?” Spiresight asked.

Shadowsight went on gazing at his body for a few heartbeats, then slowly shook his head.

“Good,” Spiresight mewed with a brisk nod. “That’s the right decision. I promise I’ll keep you safe while you’re in my care. Just resting will help you; that’s what I would have suggested if a city cat had been hurt this way. It must be working already,” he added, “because now you’re strong enough to communicate with me as a spirit. If you get any worse, I will find help from a living cat. Meanwhile,” he went on, “we can gather more information about what happened to you.”

“How?” Shadowsight asked eagerly.

“By visiting the Clans in your spirit form. We’ll have to be careful, though,” Spiresight warned him. “It’s dangerous for you to go too far from your body. If you leave it for too long, you might die, and then you would be a ghost forever. Mind you,” he added, with a spark of mischief in his gaze, “being a ghost isn’t all bad. You might even like it better than being alive and decide to—”

“I want to stay alive!” Shadowsight interrupted him abruptly. Then in a softer tone he added, “I’m sorry. I’m grateful to you for guiding me through this, but there’s still so much I have to do, and I need to be alive to do it.” He knew he didn’t have to put what he was facing in words for Spiresight. They both knew the huge cliff wasn’t going away—Shadowsight needed to know which cat was his enemy, and how the attack fit in to the troubles that beset the Clans. And beside that, if he was to recover from his injuries, he would need a cat to help him—one who wasn’t a ghost—so he had to figure out which Clan cats he could trust, and there wasn’t a moment to spare. “How do I start?” he asked.

As an answer, Spiresight pressed himself against Shadowsight’s side. For a heartbeat everything blurred, and when his vision cleared, Shadowsight found himself standing in the shelter of a clump of ferns. Glancing around, he realized that he was at the edge of the old SkyClan camp, where they had stayed when they occupied part of ShadowClan’s territory.

The center of the clearing was swarming with cats; their voices reached Shadowsight’s ears as a confused noise, and at first he couldn’t make out individuals among the mass of fur.

Gradually his confusion ebbed, and he began to make sense of what he was seeing. “There’s Tigerstar!” he exclaimed. “And Dovewing—and that’s Squirrelflight. Oh, and Rootpaw and Tree. Are there cats here from all the Clans?”

Spiresight nodded. “These are the rebel cats who oppose Bramblestar and his plans to exile the codebreakers,” he replied. “Let’s listen and see what we can learn.”

With Spiresight’s encouragement, Shadowsight slipped into the crowd of cats. An argument was raging about whether to kill Bramblestar, though Shadowsight found it hard to pay attention. All his mind was focused on the cats he cared for. His heart ached to see how desperate and exhausted his ShadowClan Clanmates looked, especially his mother and father. A powerful scent of grief wafted from them, making Shadowsight want to wail like an abandoned kit. He padded up to them and looked up into his father’s face.

“Look, I’m here!” he meowed. “I’m not lost—I’m going to be fine.”

But Tigerstar simply gazed through him, unaware that his son was standing less than a tail-length away. Urgency giving strength to his paws, Shadowsight sought out Tree and Rootpaw, who were standing together at the edge of the crowd.

“Can you see me?” he asked. “Please—you must!”

But again there was no response. Finding Spiresight at his shoulder, Shadowsight turned to him and asked, “Why can’t they see me? Tree sees dead cats all the time.”

“I don’t know,” Spiresight replied. “It seems ghosts only appear to certain cats.”

“But they should be able to see me!” Shadowsight flexed his claws in desperation.

“Not every cat with the Sisters’ blood can see every ghost,” Spiresight responded. “And I think it’s time for you to go back to your body.”

Shadowsight nodded, but almost at once he was distracted by his father’s voice. “I’m sure Shadowsight is dead,” Tigerstar began. “If he were alive, he would never have left ShadowClan. If he were able, he would have come home.”

“Maybe not,” Dovewing responded. “Remember, we once left the Clans without telling any cat—StarClan, how I regret that now!”

Tigerstar nodded, but there was no hope or belief in his eyes as he gazed at Dovewing. The anger and grief in his father’s voice alarmed Shadowsight even more, and he surged forward once again through the crowd of cats.

“Tigerstar, I’m here!” he yowled. “I’m not dead!”

But just as before, Tigerstar stared straight through Shadowsight; he couldn’t hear or see him. Shadowsight felt as helpless as a raindrop falling from the sky to be lost in a rushing stream.

As his distress overwhelmed him, Shadowsight’s vision blurred. Sickness rose in his belly, and he felt every joint in his body giving way. He was conscious of Spiresight pressing against his side.

“You need to get back to your body right now!” the spirit cat meowed.

In the next breath, Shadowsight found himself back in the ravine. His legs wouldn’t hold him up; he slumped down on the rock, staring at his own unconscious body. A terrible certainty grew in his mind that it was breathing more slowly.

How long do I have left?