Veil Of Shadows

Chapter 18

Wind was buffeting the trees and whipping the surface of the lake into white-tipped waves as Bristlefrost followed Bramblestar and the other ThunderClan warriors chosen to attend the Gathering. The full moon floated in the sky like a drifting leaf as clouds raced and jostled across its shining circle.

Bristlefrost’s paws felt heavy as she padded along the water’s edge. Usually she looked forward to meeting the cats of other Clans, but on this particular night she would rather have been anywhere else than on the Gathering island.

Preoccupied with her forebodings, she didn’t notice her sister, Thriftear, until she collided with her as she swerved around a boulder. Thriftear jumped backward and dipped her head with exaggerated respect.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I should know better than to get in the deputy’s way. Of course, you must go first,” she finished with a sweep of her tail.

Bristlefrost wanted to say that it had been her fault, and she didn’t want to go first, but before she could speak she looked up and noticed that Bramblestar had glanced back over his shoulder and was watching her. Instead of speaking to Thriftear, she gave her a dignified nod and padded on ahead.

I’d better get used to cats hating me, she thought, even my own littermate. No cat at the Gathering is going to be happy about the news that I’m the new deputy.

Even in ThunderClan, Bristlefrost knew that she didn’t command a scrap of the respect that her Clanmates had given to Squirrelflight, or even to Berrynose.

The moment Bristlefrost had dreaded came when she and her Clanmates pushed their way through the bushes that encircled the Gathering space and found places for themselves around the Great Oak. As ThunderClan deputy, she had to pad across the clearing and take her place on the tree roots with the other deputies, cringing inwardly at their contemptuous looks. Hawkwing’s greeting was a curt nod, while Cloverfoot of ShadowClan turned away and whispered something into the ear of RiverClan’s deputy, Reedwhisker.

Shocked and scornful comments arose from the warriors assembled in the clearing.

“That’s a deputy?”

“What’s she doing there? Where’s Berrynose?”

“ThunderClan must be really short of cats!”

Bristlefrost sat and stared at her paws as the five leaders leaped up into the branches of the Great Oak, and Bramblestar stepped forward to begin the meeting.

“Cats of all Clans,” he announced, “I am brave even to show up here tonight, because just a few days ago I was the victim of a savage attack. Stemleaf, Spotfur, Conefoot, and Dappletuft surprised and attacked me on my own territory, aiming to kill me. Yes, even cats from my own Clan! If it weren’t for the quick thinking and protection of my loyal warrior Bristlefrost, I would be dead!”

“What about Berrynose?” Tigerstar asked.

Bristlefrost noticed that Tigerstar was behaving as if he didn’t know what had happened to the former deputy. I wonder if Berrynose made it to the exiles’ camp—I hope so. Even though Berrynose was the most annoying cat in the forest, he didn’t deserve to fend for himself as an outcast.

“Berrynose failed me,” Bramblestar replied. “He is no longer my deputy, or a ThunderClan warrior. I have exiled him. Bristlefrost is now ThunderClan’s deputy.”

Bristlefrost cringed. Normally when a new deputy was announced at a Gathering, all the Clans would acclaim them by calling their name. But now there was only silence; she couldn’t meet the hostile glares of the cats around her.

“You exiled Berrynose?” Tigerstar repeated, sounding astonished. His claws dug hard into the branch where he stood. “But he was never a codebreaker. Mind you, neither was Alderheart, and I hear you’ve exiled him, too. At this rate, there’ll be more ThunderClan cats wandering the forest than in your camp.”

Bramblestar fixed the ShadowClan leader with a baleful amber glare. “ThunderClan business is ThunderClan business,” he snapped. “Alderheart has been replaced by a new apprentice, Flipclaw, who is doing a fine job, dedicated to serving his Clan and StarClan—just as we all should be. And he has received at least one prophetic dream, the only contact a cat of any Clan has had from StarClan”

Tigerstar let out a snort of amusement. “Do tell!”

“I will keep the details within ThunderClan,” Bramblestar retorted. “But the dream was very clear.”

As he was speaking, Bristlefrost noticed that some of her Clanmates were exchanging dubious glances. She shared their doubts. Nothing would convince her that her brother had received a single message from StarClan, or that he had the talent to become a medicine cat.

“In any case,” Bramblestar continued, “I am ThunderClan’s leader, chosen by StarClan, and I run my Clan as I see fit. Remember that killing another Clan’s leader is a serious offense to StarClan!” he added with a glance around the clearing. “And so I must ask all the Clans to exile any of my surviving attackers.”

Mistystar looked down from where she sat in a fork of the Great Oak, her blue eyes gleaming with sorrow in the fitful moonlight. “Dappletuft died in the attack,” she mewed, “but I was stunned and dismayed to hear how she dishonored her Clan. No cat who offended StarClan in such a way can be part of RiverClan. We did not sit vigil for her, and we buried her as we would have buried a rogue, with no words spoken over her.”

Bristlefrost could see Dappletuft’s kin huddled together at the back of the crowd; every one of them looked ashamed and miserable. Her heart ached for them. Dappletuft must have known what she was risking, but to be exiled from your Clan in death . . .

Leafstar was shifting uncomfortably, working her claws into the bark of the branch where she sat. “I wonder why those young warriors risked so much to attack you, Bramblestar,” she meowed, a challenge in her tone.

Bramblestar seemed unmoved by the challenge. “A leader who upholds the warrior code as strongly as I do is bound to make enemies,” he responded smoothly. “After all, it can be difficult and painful to do what’s right. But StarClan has advised and watched over the Clans for seasons upon seasons. Surely the right course is whatever brings them back?”

Leafstar opened her jaws to reply, but Bramblestar cut her off.

“That brings me to my next point,” he continued. “My former mate and deputy, Squirrelflight”—he broke off for a heartbeat, then choked out the rest—“is dead.” His voice was thick with emotion; Bristlefrost realized that he was still grieving. “She was killed by a monster near the Twolegplace.”

Murmurs of surprise and dismay rose from the assembled cats. Bristlefrost noticed that Tigerstar looked particularly shocked. He knows exactly what happened—but he’s very good at pretending!

“Of course, I was devastated at first,” Bramblestar went on. “I loved Squirrelflight. I still love her. But then I realized: Not even the cats we love can escape punishment for breaking the code. StarClan will enforce the code regardless. And so we must brush aside our pain and put all our energies toward serving StarClan!”

His voice rang out clearly across the crowd of cats below, who responded with yowls and caterwauls of agreement. Bristlefrost noticed that only Tigerstar, the rebels, and a few other warriors were looking doubtful.

“Now I ask my fellow leaders,” Bramblestar continued, “whether I can count on their help in strictly following the code and serving StarClan in any way we can.”

Silence followed the impostor’s words for a few heartbeats. Then Mistystar dipped her head in agreement. “You have my support, Bramblestar, and the support of RiverClan,” she mewed. “You’re right that exiling the codebreakers has been painful at times.” Bristlefrost detected a flicker of guilt in her eyes. She must be thinking of Mothwing, she thought. “But RiverClan is still suffering as a result of these rains. I hope that doing as StarClan has commanded will bring back their favor.”

“I hope so, too,” Harestar added. “I have lost a prized warrior and deputy, but we still struggle to feed our Clan. I believe our suffering will be rewarded when StarClan appears to us again, ready to help us through our difficult times. I’ve always respected you, Bramblestar, and I’ll do as you say.”

Silence fell again, as if the remaining two leaders were unwilling to speak. Bramblestar turned his head and fixed Leafstar with a hard stare.

“SkyClan has always served StarClan, and has always followed the code,” she responded, meeting the impostor’s gaze confidently. “We will not stop now.”

With a curt nod, Bramblestar turned to Tigerstar, who crouched on his branch, fixing the ThunderClan leader with a menacing glare.

“ShadowClan follows the warrior code, and always will,” he snapped. “I don’t need you to watch over me.”

“ShadowClan follows the code?” Bramblestar sneered. “When you haven’t even exiled the codebreaker in your Clan? How can you—”

“Dovewing atoned!” Tigerstar interrupted, raising his voice to a yowl. “And I will not be told how to handle discipline within my own Clan. ShadowClan will enforce the code.” His last few words were spat out. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“This isn’t about words.” The false Bramblestar was unsettlingly calm. “It’s about actions. Maybe the attack on me was only the first of many. This will be a long battle, and in enforcing the code we will make enemies. But the Clans must agree that we’re all in this together.”

Murmurs of agreement and support came from the other leaders and the assembled warriors. But as Bristlefrost gazed around at the crowd, all she could see was how many beloved, valued cats were missing.

Squirrelflight, Crowfeather, Mothwing, both ThunderClan medicine cats. But they’ll be back, Bristlefrost promised herself. The rebels may have lost the first battle . . . but I have to believe that they’ll win the war. Will I even be part of it, though? What if they think I betrayed them? Since being named deputy, Bristlefrost hadn’t had a chance to slip away and speak to the rebels, but she was afraid they must be blaming her for protecting Bramblestar.

As these thoughts passed through her mind, Bristlefrost spotted Rootspring across the clearing. For a moment their gazes locked. Rootspring looked completely shattered; he blinked once, then turned his head away.

Does he think I’m a traitor? Bristlefrost wondered, her throat clenching. Do they all?

On the day after the Gathering, Bristlefrost was dropping a blackbird on the fresh-kill pile when she was startled by a yowl of pain coming from the medicine cat’s den. She whirled around, then raced across the camp and brushed past the bramble screen into the den.

Inside, Flipclaw was struggling to bind a poultice onto Shellfur’s paw, but Shellfur was pulling away, scattering leaves and cobwebs over the den floor.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Flipclaw mewed frantically. “If you’d just keep still—”

“You don’t even know what you’re doing!” Shellfur screeched in despair. “It’s just getting worse!”

Flipclaw turned away, and Bristlefrost could tell from his desperate expression that her brother knew Shellfur was right.

Paw steps sounded behind Bristlefrost, who turned to see Sparkpelt pushing the brambles aside as she entered. “What in StarClan’s name is going on?” the orange tabby she-cat demanded.

Bristlefrost’s pelt tingled with apprehension. It would have to be Sparkpelt who walked in, she thought. I know she’s grieving for Squirrelflight, but she doesn’t have to claw every cat’s ears off!

“Shellfur’s paw was wounded when he was defending Bramblestar,” Flipclaw explained. “And now it’s infected. I keep applying cobwebs and a poultice made of dried oak leaves, but it’s not getting better! Shellfur has a fever now.”

“Oak leaves?” Sparkpelt asked. “Isn’t that for preventing infection? I remember Alderheart treating my wound with oak leaves once, but when infection set in, he switched to marigold.”

Flipclaw stared at her, stunned. “I didn’t know about marigold,” he murmured. “I thought oak leaves were used to treat infections.”

Sparkpelt’s tail lashed, and her fur bushed up until she looked twice her size. “You weren’t even trained!” she snarled, glaring at Flipclaw. “How are you supposed to save cats’ lives when you can’t even treat an infected wound?”

Bristlefrost cringed in sympathy with her brother, especially when Flipclaw didn’t try to defend himself. He bowed his head, giving his chest fur a couple of miserable licks.

“That’s not fair!” Bristlefrost protested, her whiskers bristling with indignation. “Flipclaw didn’t ask for this. It’s not his fault he isn’t trained.”

“I’m sorry,” Sparkpelt sighed, letting her fur lie flat again. “You’re right, Bristlefrost. It’s not his fault.” Glancing past the bramble screen into the camp, she added, “It’s not your fault at all, Flipclaw. Come with me.”

Flipclaw followed her as she strode out into the open and came to a halt below the Highledge. “Bramblestar!” she yowled. “Come down here! I need a word with you.”

Bristlefrost padded out and stood a few tail-lengths away, her pelt tingling with apprehension at how Bramblestar might react. Flipclaw looked completely terrified at Sparkpelt’s disrespectful tone.

But the impostor looked almost amused as he leaped lazily down the tumbled rocks and strolled up to face Sparkpelt. “Yes?” he rumbled.

“We can’t go on like this, Bramblestar,” Sparkpelt meowed. “Whatever strange dreams Flipclaw had, he isn’t trained, and a Clan can’t function without a trained medicine cat. Do you realize that Shellfur has an infection raging out of control from a simple wound in his paw? Poor Flipclaw’s inexperience is threatening cats’ lives!”

In response, Bramblestar just blinked at her; Bristlefrost guessed that he hadn’t known, but he didn’t much care, either.

“I know you had disagreements with Alderheart and Jayfeather,” Sparkpelt went on. “But surely you can understand that we need a real medicine cat, for the good of the Clan? At the very least, let Brightheart help him until he gets the hang of it! You’ve always been a caring leader,” she added, her voice softening. “Please, won’t you reconsider? I’m asking you not as a warrior, but as your daughter.”

But you’re not his daughter, Bristlefrost thought, suppressing a shiver.

“You make an interesting point,” Bramblestar replied; he sounded quite detached, unaffected by Sparkpelt’s appeal to their kinship. “Bristlefrost, what do you think?”

Reluctantly Bristlefrost padded forward. By this time more warriors were gathering around, wanting to know what the fuss was about, and she felt they might be testing her, waiting for her to put a paw wrong as deputy.

“I understand what Sparkpelt means,” she replied to Bramblestar. “Would you like me to look for Alderheart or Jayfeather?”

“Not just yet,” Bramblestar told her, with a lash of his tail. “True, a good medicine cat is one component of a strong Clan, but there’s another, far more important one: loyalty.”

Bristlefrost cringed inwardly, because she knew where the impostor’s words came from. She remembered what she had told him when he was grieving for Squirrelflight: that he’d need to depend on loyal warriors.

I meant the exiled ones. But clearly, he took it differently.

Bramblestar turned back to Sparkpelt, who was watching him warily, seemingly realizing that her appeal had done more harm than good. “A cat who respects the code must always obey her leader,” he told her in a condescending tone. “She must never question him—”

“The warrior code was given to us by StarClan,” Sparkpelt interrupted, her neck fur beginning to bristle again. “But now StarClan has disappeared! And how do you ever expect to connect to them again if you’ve exiled all the medicine cats?”

Bristlefrost saw Bramblestar begin to swell with fury, his amber eyes smoldering. “It’s because of cats like you that StarClan has abandoned us!” he hissed at Sparkpelt. “Cats who did not trust their leaders! But not anymore. Sparkpelt, you are no longer a ThunderClan cat. You are exiled!”

Sparkpelt’s eyes widened in dismay, but before she could respond, a scratchy voice piped up. “A good warrior doesn’t follow their leader off a cliff.”

Bristlefrost turned to see Graystripe stepping forward through the ring of cats who surrounded Bramblestar and Sparkpelt. “A good leader doesn’t expect blind loyalty,” he continued. “Firestar certainly never led like that. And neither did you, Bramblestar—not before you lost a life. Only a weak leader demands obedience at any cost. Only a—”

He broke off as Bramblestar flashed out a paw and raked him across the nose, leaving a long bloody scratch. A gasp rose up from the surrounding warriors.

Almost at once Graystripe recovered, drawing himself up so that Bristlefrost could imagine the formidable warrior he had once been. “Bramblestar would never have hurt his own warrior,” he meowed. “I don’t know who you are . . . but you’re not our leader!”

Bristlefrost was amazed at how close the elder had come to the truth. Surely every cat must see how wise he is!

“If you believe that,” Bramblestar snapped at Graystripe, “then you can leave with Sparkpelt.” With a glance at the assembled crowd, he added, “And so can any other cat who doesn’t understand loyalty.”

Blossomfall hesitated before padding forward to stand beside her father, Graystripe. Her brother, Bumblestripe, followed her, and a heartbeat later Cinderheart joined them, along with her apprentice, Finchpaw. Sparkpelt looked at her kit and nodded silently. Bristlefrost saw her own parents, Ivypool and Fernsong, exchange a glance and a few quick words. Ivypool’s paws twitched, and for a moment it seemed like she would walk out, but then she shot a concerned look toward Bristlefrost and Flipclaw.

They won’t leave without us, Bristlefrost realized. And even if Flipclaw wants to go, the Clan needs him.

Then to her amazement her sister, Thriftear, padded up to their parents, gave each of them a quick nuzzle, and joined the cats who were leaving. She shot a swift glance at Bristlefrost, then immediately looked away.

The group of exiled cats headed across the camp toward the thorn tunnel, without another word to Bramblestar. Bristlefrost remembered Tigerstar’s words at the Gathering. At this rate, there’ll be more ThunderClan cats wandering the forest than in your camp.

“Go then, filthy mange-pelts!” the impostor yowled. “Get out and don’t come crawling back!” Whirling around, he faced the warriors who remained. “Remember that I expect loyalty,” he snarled. “And if any cat knows that a Clanmate is not loyal . . . come and see me.”

His tail whipping to and fro, he stalked back to the tumbled rocks and climbed up to his den.

After the exiles had disappeared, Bristlefrost remained staring at the thorn tunnel for a few more heartbeats. She was so shocked by what had happened that she thought she might never move again. At last she forced herself to glance around at her Clanmates, who all looked just as stunned and horrified as she felt. She could smell their fear, spreading over the camp like a poisonous mist.

“I’ll talk to him,” she meowed, bracing herself.

Climbing up to the Highledge, she could feel her Clanmates’ hostility and hear their voices mocking the offer she had made. She didn’t waver or look back. She padded toward the entrance of the den and was just about to enter when she heard Bramblestar already talking to some cat.

Not talking . . . arguing.

“How dare you question me?” he snarled. “I’ll show you! I’ll show them all! I’ll make them regret what they’ve done to me. . . .”

Setting down her paws as softly as if she were stalking a mouse, Bristlefrost edged forward and peered into the entrance. Bramblestar stood with his back to her. His tail was twitching to and fro, while his neck fur was bristling and his ears were flattened.

But no cat was with him in the den.

Her whole body shaking uncontrollably, Bristlefrost backed away.