Veil Of Shadows

Chapter 9

Bristlefrost arched her back in a good long stretch, while her jaws parted in a massive yawn. She felt chilly and stiff, her pelt still damp from rain that had fallen during the night. Above her head, she could just make out the trees at the top of the hollow, their tracery of branches outlined against a sky paling toward dawn.

“Thank StarClan it’s morning!” she exclaimed to Rosepetal, who was sitting on the opposite side of the camp entrance.

Rosepetal nodded and raised one paw to lick it and scrub it over her face. “Now that Bramblestar has doubled the guards, we’ll all be keeping watch twice as often,” she complained. “He says he wants to keep the camp safe, but we were perfectly fine before.”

“True.” Bristlefrost blinked in an attempt to keep herself awake. “I can’t wait until I can go for a nice piece of prey and a nap.”

Rosepetal licked her paw again and gave her ears a wash. “I’m so looking forward to that!” she sighed. Then she glanced at Bristlefrost nervously. “I’m sure Bramblestar has a good reason for adding guards, though,” she added.

Bristlefrost sighed. I wish every cat didn’t think I was going to run off to Bramblestar to report everything they say.

Slow, uncertain paw steps sounded in the thorn tunnel, and both she-cats straightened up anxiously as Bramblestar appeared at the entrance. Bristlefrost remembered seeing him leave the camp just after sunset. Where has he been all night?

The false Clan leader appeared not to notice the two guards as he dragged himself into the camp. His head was hanging low, and his tail brushed the ground as if he was very tired. Bristlefrost noticed too how much weight he’d put on.

What can you expect when he takes first pick of the fresh-kill pile and doesn’t hunt or patrol anymore? He’s lost a lot of his energy.

“Greetings, Bramblestar,” Rosepetal meowed, dipping her head respectfully, and Bristlefrost echoed her words. But Bramblestar looked at neither of them, replying only with a grunt. He headed across the camp, his dark pelt soon lost in the darkness that still lay over the stone hollow.

Bristlefrost and Rosepetal waited for a few more moments, hoping that the Clan leader had gone to his den. Then, as the dawn light strengthened, they followed him farther into the camp, their guard duty over with the approach of day.

Heading for the fresh-kill pile, Bristlefrost was just in time to see Bramblestar leave a half-eaten squirrel behind him and shamble off into the medicine cats’ den. She exchanged a worried look with Rosepetal.

There’s something off about Bramblestar, Bristlefrost thought. She knew that even the most loyal ThunderClan warriors could see it now, but still, she didn’t dare to share the thought with Rosepetal. In grim silence the two warriors chose their prey; Bristlefrost devoured her mouse in a few hasty gulps, then headed for the warriors’ den.

Bristlefrost could tell that it was raining again as she woke in her nest. The sloshing of busy cats tromping through the mud reached her through the branches of the den. Rosepetal had already left, and apart from Bristlefrost the den was empty.

Bristlefrost rose, shook scraps of moss and bracken from her pelt, and gave herself a quick grooming. Then she ventured out into the camp.

Instantly, drizzle matted her fur. Not far from the entrance of the den Bristlefrost spotted her brother, Flipclaw, in the middle of a group of younger warriors, and paused to listen to what they were saying.

“You’ll never guess what a weird dream I had last night,” Flipclaw was meowing. “I was hunting some birds, and suddenly they grew to three times their size. They were huge! They looked really fierce, and they turned around and started chasing me!”

“Wow, scary!” Plumstone commented.

“You better believe it. I was their prey, and they had this creepy sparkle in their eyes. I knew somehow they would get me! I was running and running, but they were flying faster . . .”

As Bristlefrost listened, amused at the outlandish story, she noticed that Bramblestar had appeared from somewhere and was also listening to Flipclaw, his eyes narrowed. Seeing that Bristlefrost had spotted him, he gave her a nod and shuffled off, back to the medicine cats’ den.

Why is he spending so much time there? Bristlefrost wondered. Is he sick?

Just at the entrance to the den, Berrynose intercepted him. “Bramblestar, Sorrelstripe reported—”

The Clan leader cut him off with a dismissive wave of his tail. “Whatever it is, deal with it,” he snapped. “Are you Clan deputy or aren’t you?”

Bristlefrost’s amusement at her brother’s weird dream had faded; watching their leader’s erratic behavior made her deeply uneasy. Her pads itched with curiosity, and when Bramblestar had disappeared into the den, she sneaked closer, crouching in the shelter of the brambles that screened the entrance.

At first, she could only hear murmuring, until Bramblestar raised his voice, his ill temper as obvious as if she had been able to see his face.

“I’m your Clan leader!” he snarled. “The warrior code makes it clear that you have to do what I tell you.”

“But I can’t find anything wrong with you,” Alderheart responded, his voice calm and reasonable.

“And I’m telling you that I’m in pain!”

From the tone of Bramblestar’s voice, Bristlefrost could believe him. She was surprised to feel an unexpected pang of pity for him.

“I’m sorry about that,” Alderheart continued. “But I can’t give you any more poppy seeds. It’s not safe.”

Bristlefrost blinked in sudden understanding. Poppy seeds were strong. If Bramblestar had been taking them regularly, it would explain why he had become so lethargic.

Bramblestar let out a growl of anger and pushed his way out of the den. Bristlefrost had just enough time to leap backward and pretend to be dislodging a piece of grit from between her claws. She watched as the impostor stormed into the middle of the clearing.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey come here and listen to me!” he yowled.

Bristlefrost joined her Clanmates as they gathered around their leader. She could sense their uneasiness in their twitching tails and whiskers, and their shared glances of apprehension. Once again, they were gathering in the rain for a speech from their leader. It was as though all the cats were asking themselves, What now?

Alderheart had appeared from his den and remained standing at the entrance, his gaze fixed on Bramblestar with a deeply disturbed look that made Bristlefrost shiver.

Bramblestar gazed around the Clan as they settled around him. “ThunderClan is very lucky indeed,” he announced in that honeyed voice that Bristlefrost instinctively mistrusted, her pelt prickling at the sound. “Now that Jayfeather has been exposed as a codebreaker and sent into exile, we have been gifted with another medicine cat.”

Bristlefrost could see her own confusion reflected in the eyes of her Clanmates. Another medicine cat? Why has Alderheart said nothing about this? She knew that medicine-cat apprentices were recognized when they had a vision or some kind of communication with StarClan. But StarClan isn’t communicating with any cat right now. So what is Bramblestar meowing about?

She felt even more confused a heartbeat later as Bramblestar went on. “Flipclaw will become our new medicine-cat apprentice!”

“Flipclaw?” their mother, Ivypool, exclaimed in disbelief, at the same moment as Flipclaw blurted out, “Me? No way!”

Bramblestar turned his amber gaze on Flipclaw. “Do you doubt yourself?” he asked. “Just now, I heard you talking about a prophetic dream you had.”

“Prophetic?” Flipclaw blinked in bewilderment, while confused muttering came from the other assembled cats. “I’m not sure the dream was prophetic. At least, I hope it wasn’t! It was just weird. . . .”

Bramblestar padded forward until he stood close to Flipclaw, staring straight into the younger cat’s eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he purred. “You recalled being preyed on by birds. Birds that live in the sky, with a strange sparkle in their eyes. Come on, Flipclaw! What else sparkles and lives in the sky?”

For a moment Flipclaw stared blankly at the Clan leader. “Stars . . . StarClan?” he choked out at last.

Bristlefrost spotted movement at the corner of her eye and turned her head to see Alderheart padding forward from the medicine-cat den. His eyes were wide with surprise.

“That doesn’t sound like any vision I’ve ever heard of,” he meowed as he crossed the camp to join the false Bramblestar. “Even what Shadowsight saw was clearer than that!”

Bramblestar let out a hiss of exasperation, his tail-tip twitching to and fro. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Alderheart,” he snapped, “StarClan isn’t sharing traditional visions with us. We have to look harder for guidance! Flipclaw’s dream makes perfect sense to me.”

“Enlighten us, then,” Alderheart murmured.

“The birds are StarClan,” Bramblestar responded. “For seasons they have fed us, nourished us with their wisdom. But now things have changed. They have become angry, vengeful. Until we do as StarClan has demanded, the Clans will suffer. We will be their prey!”

Bristlefrost felt every hair on her pelt prickle with horror at the interpretation the impostor was placing on what had clearly been a silly dream. Alderheart opened his jaws to comment, then shut them again with a snap.

Flipclaw, too, obviously shared Bristlefrost’s feelings, his eyes wide with dismay.

“But Bramblestar . . . I don’t feel any pull to be a medicine cat,” he mewed nervously. “Isn’t that something StarClan has to call a cat to be?”

Bramblestar curved his tail forward to rest it on Flipclaw’s shoulder. “As StarClan isn’t speaking to the Clans,” he began, “the only link we have to what they want is through me, the leader they approved for ThunderClan. And I want you, Flipclaw, to be the new medicine-cat apprentice. After all, we need one,” he continued, raising his head to address the rest of the Clan. “What if something happens to Alderheart?”

Gazing at Alderheart’s sudden wary expression, Bristlefrost could see that the medicine cat recognized the impostor’s words for the threat they were. Once Flipclaw is able to treat sick cats, Bramblestar can get rid of Alderheart anytime he wants.

“This is ridiculous!” Alderheart meowed, his voice full of bitterness. “Bramblestar, how is this in keeping with the code that you’ve been enforcing so fiercely?”

Bramblestar turned toward him, his muscular body looming over the slighter medicine cat. “I am the leader!” he snarled. “I make the decisions!”

His tail bushing out with fury, he stormed off toward the tumbled rocks, heading for his den. But before he reached it, he halted, glancing back over his shoulder. “Bristlefrost, follow me!” he snapped.

Bristlefrost’s heart began thumping hard with alarm. Does he know that I was listening to him and Alderheart in the medicine cats’ den? Am I in trouble?

But her only choice was to obey the false leader. She was aware of her Clanmates staring at her as she climbed the tumbled rocks in his paw steps and reached the entrance to his den.

“Come in, come in,” Bramblestar mewed testily. “I need to talk to you.”

Though she looked forward to getting out of the rain, Bristlefrost needed to take one last breath of fresh air before she could force herself into the stench of the den. She stepped inside warily, trying not to let her nose wrinkle at the stink of stale prey and soiled bedding. Dipping her head respectfully, she padded forward to within a tail-length of where Bramblestar sprawled in his nest.

“I’ve been in the Twolegplace, searching for Squirrelflight,” he told her. “But I haven’t caught the least hint of her scent. I was there all night, but it was no use. I don’t have the faintest idea where she is.”

Apprehension began to gnaw at Bristlefrost’s belly. “Why are you looking for her?” she asked. “Squirrelflight left Clan territory, just as you ordered. Surely you don’t think she deserves more punishment?”

Bramblestar shook his head sadly. “To tell the truth . . . I expected Squirrelflight to come home and ask to be taken back into ThunderClan,” he admitted. “But she hasn’t. I must have really angered her,” he continued, gazing up at the den wall as if he could see his former deputy standing there. “I know she must still love me, deep down. If I could only talk to her again . . .” His voice choked and he closed his eyes, resting his nose on his paws.

Bristlefrost was growing steadily more alarmed. An irrational Clan leader, sending Clan members into exile for supposedly breaking the warrior code, was one thing. But this befuddled creature, driveling on about how much Squirrelflight must love him, was far worse.

He couldn’t lead a kit out of the nursery, much less a whole Clan!

While Bristlefrost was wondering what she could possibly say, Bramblestar’s head snapped up again.

“I have a new task for you,” he rasped. “You have to search for Squirrelflight. You must find her. And when you do, you must tell her that her exile is revoked. You must get her to come back to ThunderClan.”

“But what will the rest of the Clan think about that?” Bristlefrost asked. “You exiled all the codebreakers. How can you let just one come back? Wouldn’t that encourage other cats to start doubting your leadership?”

“Oh, Bristlefrost . . .” Bramblestar blinked at her with a look of amused affection that made her feel cold right down to her claw-tips. “When you’re older and more experienced, you’ll realize that there is such a thing as forgiveness, even from StarClan. I’m their representative in the Clan, now that the medicine cats can’t speak to them, and I’ve decided that Squirrelflight can be forgiven, if she changes her ways. Squirrelflight is . . . special.”

“Then I’ll go and look for her right away,” Bristlefrost mewed, not knowing what else she could say. What will he do if I don’t come back with Squirrelflight? she wondered nervously. But maybe Squirrelflight would agree to come back. That would be so wonderful! If she did, Bristlefrost wouldn’t have to carry this burden of pretending to agree with Bramblestar alone any longer. And if the impostor made Squirrelflight deputy again, she might be able to influence his behavior and protect their Clan. Bristlefrost dipped her head and backed out of the den, her belly trembling with relief once she was away from the impostor’s baleful eyes.

Down on the floor of the camp, her Clanmates were huddling into groups, clearly discussing Bramblestar’s latest edict. Near the medicine cats’ den, Flipclaw seemed to be arguing with Alderheart. As she passed the groups of whispering cats, they fell silent, watching her warily.

Bristlefrost didn’t wait to speak with any cat, only bounded across the camp and straight out into the forest. To begin with, she headed in the direction of the Twolegplace, in case any cat might be watching her, or—a horrific thought—Bramblestar himself decided to follow her. Once she was sure she was alone, she veered along the top border of SkyClan territory, then crossed into ShadowClan and made for the exiles’ camp.

As Bristlefrost approached the camp entrance, Squirrelflight appeared out of a bank of ferns, followed by Twigbranch and Dovewing. All of them were carrying prey; it had been a successful hunt.

“Squirrelflight, I have to talk to you!” Bristlefrost called out, bounding toward her.

Squirrelflight’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay, come into camp,” she mumbled around the vole in her jaws.

Bristlefrost followed the hunting patrol through the fern tunnel and waited while Squirrelflight deposited her prey on the fresh-kill pile.

“Would you like to eat with us?” Squirrelflight asked.

Bristlefrost shook her head; her belly was roiling, and she felt that she couldn’t have swallowed a single mouthful.

“I can see something’s bothering you,” Squirrelflight meowed, resting her tail-tip briefly on Bristlefrost’s shoulder. “What has Bramblestar done now?” She led Bristlefrost to one of the flat rocks beside the stream, where they could settle down in the sun. “It is Bramblestar, I suppose?”

“Or the thing inside him,” Bristlefrost responded. “He’s changed more than ever,” she continued, “and he seems to have lost all control. Now he’s calling himself StarClan’s only representative, and he says that StarClan has forgiven you. He wants you to come back. Oh, Squirrelflight, I wish you would!”

A gleam of longing lit in Squirrelflight’s green eyes, and Bristlefrost realized how much she wanted to be part of her Clan again. Then, reluctantly, she shook her head. “I can’t, Bristlefrost. I’m still loyal to ThunderClan, but there are ThunderClan cats here among the exiles. I’m still protecting my Clan. They need me here.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Bristlefrost asked, struggling with deep disappointment. “Bramblestar isn’t going to let this go. He’s going to keep searching for you. What if he finds out about this camp?”

Squirrelflight sat silent for a few moments, her head bowed. Bristlefrost watched her in an agony of impatience, but she knew better than to interrupt the former deputy’s thoughts.

At last Squirrelflight looked up. “I know what we must do,” she meowed. “You must tell Bramblestar that I’m dead.”

Bristlefrost stared at her. She had never told such a massive lie before, and she guessed she never would again. And will Bramblestar believe it? she asked herself. I can’t imagine it will work. . . . “I told you,” she mewed at last, “Bramblestar won’t let this go. He’ll need proof.”

“Then we must give him some,” Squirrelflight responded calmly.

While Bristlefrost wondered what she meant, Squirrelflight rose to her paws and padded over to the medicine cats’ den, which Jayfeather now shared with Mothwing. Halting at the entrance, she called out, “Jayfeather!”

The blind medicine cat padded out into the open, the scent of tansy clinging to his pelt. “Oh, it’s you, Bristlefrost,” he muttered. “What has that mange-ridden furball done now?”

Quickly Squirrelflight told Jayfeather how Bramblestar had forgiven her and wanted her to go back to ThunderClan. “I’m not going, of course, so what we need to do is convince Bramblestar that I’m dead,” she explained. “Tell me, Jayfeather, can you wound me in a way that would cause a lot of bleeding but heal easily and safely?”

Bristlefrost suppressed a gasp of shock, staring at Squirrelflight. That’s so risky . . . and would Bramblestar even accept it?

Meanwhile Jayfeather was gaping at Squirrelflight. “Wound you? Have you got bees in your brain?”

“No, I haven’t!” Squirrelflight retorted. “But these are desperate times. If you can think of a better idea, tell me what it is.”

Jayfeather let out a snort. “I’m not going to injure you on purpose,” he insisted, his voice rising in anger. “I’m a medicine cat, not a weasel!”

As he was speaking, Mothwing stuck her head out of the den. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What’s all the meowing about?”

“Squirrelflight has lost whatever wits she possessed,” Jayfeather replied with a disgusted lash of his tail. “She wants me to wound her.”

“Bristlefrost and I need to create proof that I’m dead,” Squirrelflight explained. “It’s the only way to stop Bramblestar from looking for me. Jayfeather doesn’t like the idea of blood.”

“No, I don’t. The whole idea is ridiculous!” Jayfeather hissed. “It’s gone too far when a cat asks a medicine cat to wound her and—”

Squirrelflight looked at Mothwing pleadingly. “I know that Bramblestar won’t let this go,” she said. “If he’s determined to bring me back to camp, he’ll keep looking for me and sending patrols to look for me. Some cat would be bound to eventually figure out where I am, and that would expose all of us.”

“I’ll do it,” Mothwing interrupted. “Wounding a cat is a lot easier than healing one. But are you sure that’s the only way? Seems pretty brutal.”

“I’m sure,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Bristlefrost has told me how relentless he’s been about searching for me. It’s clear that he won’t let me go until he has to.”

Mothwing nodded, considering Squirrelflight’s words. “Good enough for me,” she said. “Besides, if we don’t do something now, he might come searching again, and we can’t risk him finding us here. He’d start a war with ShadowClan. And Jayfeather, if you don’t believe that you and I together can’t let a little blood from a cat and heal her afterward, you’re the one who has lost your wits.”

Jayfeather glared at her from sightless blue eyes. “I don’t want anything to do with this!” he snarled, and whipped around to disappear into the den.

“He’ll come around,” Mothwing mewed, entirely unimpressed by Jayfeather’s exhibition of temper.

I wonder how those two are getting along, Bristlefrost wondered, briefly amused in spite of the tension around her. I’d like to be a fly on the wall of that den!

“We’ll both look after you when it’s done, Squirrelflight,” Mothwing continued. “There’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not,” Squirrelflight responded. “I’m just so grateful to you, Mothwing. Can you get what you need right now? And then we’ll head for the Twolegplace.”

I sure hope this works, Bristlefrost thought. Or things will be even worse than they are now!

“It’s this way,” Bristlefrost meowed.

Sunhigh was long past, and the rain had ended when Bristlefrost led Bramblestar to the spot near the Twolegplace where she and Mothwing had helped Squirrelflight arrange the evidence of her “death” one day earlier. Emerging from the trees, she halted beside a Thunderpath. Clumps of grass near the edge were soaked with blood, while strewn on the hard, black surface were several tufts of Squirrelflight’s fur and a single claw. The stench of blood filled the air. She realized now that the blood might smell too fresh, the fur seem too carefully arranged. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She didn’t dare put him off any longer, so they’d had to hurry to set the scene. But she knew if he caught on to the truth, it would mean her life.

Oh, StarClan, let him believe me! Bristlefrost prayed, fighting to hide her fear as the false Bramblestar padded up to join her.

His amber eyes widened as he saw the blood and fur, and then, to Bristlefrost’s astonishment, his face contorted in what looked like real grief. Hunching his shoulders, he bowed his head and flattened his ears. For a few heartbeats he seemed unable to speak.

“She’s dead . . . and I killed her,” he choked out at last.