Veil Of Shadows

Chapter 8

The sun was going down; scarlet light washed over the SkyClan camp, reaching even into the medicine cats’ den. Rootpaw narrowed his eyes against the glare as he dabbed at Macgyver’s tick with a ball of moss soaked in mouse bile. Macgyver kept shifting around, so Rootpaw found it hard to maneuver the moss ball into the right place.

“For StarClan’s sake, keep still!” he hissed around the twig clamped in his jaws.

“That tick is really dug in,” Fidgetflake commented cheerfully. “They can be tricky sometimes. Keep at it, Rootpaw—you’ll get there in the end.”

Rootpaw could barely keep from gagging at the stench and taste of the mouse bile. This isn’t fair, he thought. I had to do ticks when I was a warrior apprentice, and I still have to do them now. And I hate every last one of them!

He dabbed again, and to his relief the tick finally dropped off. Rootpaw let go of the twig with the soaked moss ball, gasping for a breath of fresh air.

“Thanks, Rootpaw,” Macgyver meowed, flexing his shoulders. “That feels much better.” With a nod to Fidgetflake, he padded out into the camp.

Rootpaw barely had time to clean up his paws before he heard his name being called from the entrance to the den. He turned to see his father, Tree.

“Fidgetflake, can I borrow Rootpaw for a bit?” Tree meowed. “I need to talk to him.”

With Fidgetflake’s permission, Rootpaw followed his father outside. He was glad to get out of his den, even for a short time. It stank of mouse bile and would for some time.

“Has anything changed?” Tree asked, halting a couple of tail-lengths from the den. “Have you seen the real Bramblestar again, or had any kind of sign that he’s still around?”

Rootpaw shook his head worriedly. “Not a whisker,” he replied.

“Last night’s meeting is still bothering me,” Tree meowed. “There was so much debate about what to do with the impostor, but if we can’t reach the real Bramblestar’s spirit, it doesn’t leave us with much choice. I’d have expected that if you haven’t seen him, he would be near Squirrelflight,” he added, for once sounding deeply serious.

“I thought the same thing,” Rootpaw responded. “But yesterday, before the meeting, I talked to Squirrelflight and there was no sign of Bramblestar anywhere near her.”

Tree twitched his whiskers thoughtfully. “Is it possible that Bramblestar has faded?” he murmured, half to himself. “We have no idea how it would affect a cat, to be out of his body for so long.”

Rootpaw couldn’t answer that question. “I wish there were something we could do,” he meowed.

“There may be.” Tree’s voice was hopeful again. “I’ve talked to Leafstar about an idea I had of a way to contact Bramblestar. She wasn’t sure at first, but when I told her that the impostor might have tried to kill Sparkpelt, she agreed to give it a try. She said if she could see Bramblestar’s ghost for herself, she might change her mind about going along with the false Bramblestar.”

“What’s the idea?” Rootpaw asked eagerly.

“Perform a summoning ritual. You know the group of cats I was born into, the Sisters? They used to call to their dead this way. Maybe if we do the ritual, we will be able to reach Bramblestar’s spirit—if it’s anywhere near the Clans. It would be a huge help if you would join in, Rootpaw.”

Rootpaw fell silent for a moment as a rush of optimism flooded through him from ears to tail-tip. For so long, he’d been the only one who could communicate with Bramblestar’s ghost, and his failure to find him had made Rootpaw feel helpless and alone. Having his whole Clan participate would take so much of the weight off his shoulders.

“Of course I will,” he replied. It was wonderful to finally have something new to try. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all.

“Great!” Tree purred. He bounded the couple of paces back to the medicine cats’ den, stuck his head inside, and called, “Frecklewish, Fidgetflake, we need you!”

With the two medicine cats following him, exchanging bewildered glances, Tree raced across the camp to the Tallstump and called for Leafstar.

The Clan leader emerged and leaped up onto the top of the stump. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Tallstump for a Clan meeting!” she yowled.

Taken aback, Rootpaw padded up to his father as the rest of the Clan gathered around them. “Wait, we’re doing this right now?” he whispered. He felt his optimism from a moment ago waver. Even though his powers had proven useful, he knew there were still cats in his Clan who thought of him and his father as weird. Calling on their Clanmates to join a ritual to summon the dead probably wouldn’t help. “I didn’t realize it was going to happen so fast,” he mewed nervously. “I was hoping we could take some time to ease them into the idea. . . .”

“We don’t have time,” Tree told him. “It has to be at sunset.”

“Tree is going to lead us in a ceremony from the Sisters,” Leafstar announced when the Clan had assembled. “We hope it will bring the spirit of the true Bramblestar back to us.”

Doubtful muttering arose from the Clan. “The Sisters?” Sandynose exclaimed. “Why are we bothering with that weird bunch?”

Just as I feared, Rootpaw thought, feeling embarrassed. If the Clan thought Rootpaw and Tree were weird, of course they’d think the same of their kin, the Sisters.

“Yeah,” Sagenose agreed. “Those rogues don’t know anything that the Clans don’t know!”

“Like Bramblestar’s ghost is real anyway,” Sandynose added.

“Quiet!” Leafstar ordered, with a stern look at the two toms. “This may not work, but at least we’re going to try.”

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as Tree and Rootpaw stepped into the center of the clearing, with their Clanmates in a circle around them. Though Fidgetflake nodded at him supportively, Rootpaw sensed the reluctance of the other gathered cats and felt more exposed than ever.

“Tonight we sing to guide the spirit of Bramblestar back to us,” Tree announced, his voice ringing clearly across the camp. “We know he has much to tell us, and we will try to help him on his journey to regain his body. Bramblestar, come to us!”

Tree threw back his head and let out an eerie, high-pitched wailing. It was met by a stunned silence from the other cats, and Rootpaw spotted several of them exchanging skeptical looks.

Then Violetshine stepped forward and joined in the wailing, nervously at first, then more confidently as she matched her voice to her mate’s. Her participation seemed to shift the mood of the circle. They might have thought Tree and Rootpaw were strange, but they respected Violetshine. If she took the ritual seriously, maybe they would too. Encouraged, Rootpaw joined his voice to his parents’. Then Hawkwing padded up to support them, followed by Needleclaw and Fidgetflake. Soon many others were wailing, their voices shivering upward as the stars began to appear.

Rootpaw felt that the sound was stretching out across all the lake territories, calling Bramblestar to them. This is going to work, Rootpaw thought, hope rising inside him. It has to. If Bramblestar is anywhere nearby, he will come.

Even as the last of the sunlight died, the song continued. Rootpaw gazed around while the rest of the cats went on with their wailing. He was sure that Bramblestar would come if he could, but there was no sign of him.

Tree fell silent, looking questioningly at Rootpaw, who could only shake his head sadly. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. At last Rootpaw broke out of the circle and searched more and more desperately for Bramblestar around the edges of the camp and inside the dens. Please, Bramblestar, show yourself! he urged silently, but the ThunderClan leader was nowhere to be found. The voices grew more ragged, then finally faded into silence. Full darkness had fallen, and Bramblestar had not come.

Rootpaw gazed around and saw deep disappointment on the faces of his Clanmates; Leafstar in particular sat with her shoulders drooping and her gaze fixed on her paws.

“I’m sorry!” Rootpaw’s voice was shaking. He had let himself believe that this could work, and now he felt like even more of a failure than before. “I tried so hard, and it was no use.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Fidgetflake offered, casting a kind glance at Rootpaw.

Tree curled his tail around his son’s shoulders. “Ghosts are unpredictable,” he mewed comfortingly. “And Bramblestar’s spirit is probably even more so, as his body is still alive. We can try again.”

But Rootpaw felt heavy with dread. If it didn’t work this time, what’s the point of trying again?

“I have an idea,” Frecklewish announced unexpectedly. The Clan was breaking up now, cats heading for their dens, leaving the medicine cats in the center of the clearing with Tree, Rootpaw, and Leafstar. “Why don’t we try the ritual again, but this time at the Moonpool?”

“You know, that might just work.” Tree gave her an intent look. “But don’t the medicine cats go there at moonhigh? This ritual must be performed at sunset.”

“Sunset didn’t seem to work this time,” Frecklewish pointed out gently. “So maybe moonhigh will.”

Tree nodded. “I can’t argue with that,” he said. But he still seemed uncertain as he gazed around the clearing.

“The Moonpool is where we meet with the spirits of our warrior ancestors,” Frecklewish continued. “It might be easier for Bramblestar to come to us there.”

Leafstar nodded slowly. “That’s definitely worth a try,” she meowed. “Frecklewish, I know that only medicine cats are allowed at the Moonpool, but with your permission, Tree and I will come with you.”

“Of course, Leafstar,” Frecklewish replied immediately. “It’s not like we haven’t broken that rule over these past few moons. These are strange times, and until Star Clan returns”—Frecklewish glanced away sadly—“if they return, we must do whatever has a chance of working. You and Tree will be most welcome.”

Buffeting winds scoured the moor as the five cats made their way to the Moonpool. Rootpaw’s eyes watered and his fur was flattened to his sides as he struggled into the teeth of it. By the time he clambered up the final rocky slope to the top of the hollow, he felt fit for nothing except to curl up and sleep.

The Moonpool was dark as the SkyClan cats pushed through the bushes and began making their way down the spiral path. The stream cascading down from the rocks hardly seemed to disturb the surface. Here and there a glinting light reflected the stars and a claw-scratch of moon that appeared now and again through gaps in the racing clouds.

Rootpaw shivered. “Oh, StarClan, let it work this time!” he murmured.

Frecklewish ordered her Clanmates to find spaces for themselves around the edge of the pool. Then Tree threw his head back and sent up his eerie wailing to the silent sky. Rootpaw and the others joined in.

As the ritual song continued, Rootpaw gazed into the dark water, willing the spirit of Bramblestar to appear. Come—come now! You have to!

For a moment he thought that he saw something glimmering in the depths of the Moonpool, something more than the faint and fugitive stars. His heart lifted, everything within him reaching out to the light.

But at that moment Tree brought his song to a close, and the other cats dropped out, too, so that the wailing died away. The gleam of light faded too, as if it was sinking back into shadow.

“I saw something!” Rootpaw exclaimed, lashing his tail in frustration. “A light there—in the pool.”

Frecklewish padded to his side and peered downward. “I can’t see anything,” she mewed.

“It’s gone now.”

Frecklewish raised her head to meet Rootpaw’s gaze. “Are you sure you saw it?”

“Yes!” Rootpaw replied. “At least . . . I think so.”

“You probably imagined it,” Frecklewish stated briskly. “It’s easy to do, with the moon and starlight flickering like this. And it’s easy to imagine seeing what you’re really hoping for.”

The other cats murmured agreement, and Rootpaw had to agree too. He couldn’t put his paw on exactly what he had seen, and he couldn’t bring himself to argue with cats who were all much more experienced than he was. He let out a sigh of discouragement.

His companions all seemed to share his mood, their tails and whiskers drooping at this second failure of the Sisters’ ritual.

“It’s my belief that Bramblestar’s spirit is fading as he goes longer and longer without a body,” Tree meowed. “I’ve never known it to happen to ghosts before, but Bramblestar’s situation isn’t what you could call normal.”

Sadly Rootpaw decided that his father must be right. “Is it already too late to save him?” he asked anxiously.

Leafstar turned to Tree. “What do you think?”

“We know whoever is controlling Bramblestar’s body isn’t Bramblestar,” Tree began slowly. “No matter how much time we have left, if we want to save the ThunderClan leader, we have to fight against whoever has stolen his body.”

“You’re right, Tree,” Frecklewish agreed.

“Maybe that’s true, but I’m still not ready to start a war with ThunderClan,” Leafstar responded firmly. “Especially when two of the other Clans support them. I have to think of SkyClan first.”

“But what about Bramblestar?” Rootpaw asked, dismayed by his leader’s decision. “We can’t just abandon him.”

Tree gave his son an approving nod. “Leafstar, you have to realize that this . . . creature, whatever it is, inside Bramblestar’s body, is going to destroy us all, sooner or later.”

“Yes.” Frecklewish’s voice was harsh, quite different from her usual gentle demeanor. “He has already caused chaos in ShadowClan, and made two other Clans exile a deputy and a medicine cat. Where will it all end?”

“I understand what you’re saying,” Leafstar responded. “And I don’t mean to do nothing. We will watch and wait. It’s a terrible thing that I have to say, but I would rather sacrifice Bramblestar than SkyClan. No, Rootpaw,” she continued, as the apprentice opened his jaws to object again. “For now, we will carry on as we have.”

Rootpaw trailed a little way behind as he and his Clanmates set out for their own territory. He couldn’t help thinking that Leafstar was making a terrible mistake.

If only I could explain exactly what I saw in the pool, he thought sadly, his gaze fixed on his paws. Or if Tree hadn’t ended the song just at that moment! Why does everything have to go wrong?

His Clanmates were walking in near silence, and Rootpaw started in surprise at the sound of Leafstar’s voice. He looked up to see Leafstar padding beside him, her amber gaze sympathetic.

“Try not to worry too much, Rootpaw,” she mewed, her tone reassuring. “All is not lost—not yet. We’ll see what happens, and when we’re ready, we’ll act.”

Rootpaw nodded, though he guessed Leafstar could see he was finding her promises hard to accept.

“Frecklewish and Fidgetflake have praised how hard you’ve been working,” his Clan leader went on. “But they also say you don’t seem that enthusiastic about being a medicine cat.” Leafstar halted and looked deeply into Rootpaw’s eyes. “It’s up to you, Rootpaw. Honestly, now, if you listen to your heart, do you really want your paws to follow the path of a medicine cat?”

Rootpaw thought about the tasks he had carried out in the medicine-cat den. He had felt pride in mastering something new, but none of the joy he experienced in making a good catch on a hunting patrol or sniffing the fresh dawn air in the forest as he set out to patrol the border. And a deep pang of loss pierced him at the thought of never having a mate and kits. He let out a deep sigh. “No, I don’t,” he admitted.

He had half expected that Leafstar would be angry, but instead she nodded in understanding. “I’m proud of you for considering so seriously where you belong,” she told him. “Consider yourself a warrior apprentice again—but not for long. Tomorrow I’ll talk to Dewspring about your warrior assessment.”

For the rest of the way back to SkyClan territory, Rootpaw felt that his paws were carrying him on the wind.