“And yet you’re the Clans who got to keep all your territory when we rearranged the borders to make room for SkyClan,” Tigerstar pointed out, an edge to his voice. “If you’re not happy with it now—”
“You’re still complaining about the borders?” Crowfeather, the WindClan deputy, interrupted from his place on the oak roots. His tail twitched in exasperation. “We already fixed that for you!”
“You know perfectly well why we made that decision,” Mistystar added, glaring at Tigerstar from eyes like chips of blue ice. “And unless you can persuade the Twolegs to move the Twolegplace between RiverClan and ShadowClan or the horseplace on our border with WindClan, that’s the way it has to be.”
Tigerstar was obviously ready to make a furious retort when Bramblestar rose and took a pace forward. “That prey has been eaten,” he pointed out calmly, “and the new borders were working well for all the Clans until the weather turned so cold. That’s our problem, and that’s what we should be concentrating on.”
Tigerstar gave his shoulders an angry shrug, while Mistystar dipped her head in acknowledgment of what the ThunderClan leader had said. Bristlepaw felt a stab of pride. Her leader was so wise, to know what to say to prevent a useless quarrel.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” Harestar continued after a moment’s pause. “This is the worst leaf-bare any cat can remember, and the longest that cold weather like this has lasted.”
“And the longest that the medicine cats have gone without receiving messages from StarClan,” Jayfeather announced from where he sat with the other medicine cats. There was an ominous note in his voice that chilled Bristlepaw far more than the news of prey shortages.
She could see many of the older cats exchanging worried glances at Jayfeather’s words, making her realize even more clearly how serious the problem was.
That was such a mouse-brained thing I said, back in the camp!
“But surely that’s just a result of the cold and the Moonpool being frozen?” Mistystar meowed. “I’m confident that all we have to do is be patient and wait for the warmer weather.”
Leafstar flicked an ear, her expression tense. “We certainly hope so.”
Bristlepaw could see that Jayfeather wanted to object, but Harestar continued before he could get a word out.
“Maybe it’s time to share some good news, then,” he suggested. “WindClan has two new apprentices, Woodpaw and Applepaw.”
A chorus of caterwauling broke out in the clearing as the assembled cats called out the names of the new apprentices. Bristlepaw joined in, seeing the two young cats duck their heads in embarrassment, while their mother and father, Heathertail and Breezepelt, looked on proudly.
“RiverClan has good news, too,” Mistystar announced as the clamor died away. “Curlfeather has given birth to three healthy kits.”
Again Bristlepaw joined in the chorus of congratulation, though she could see a faint shadow of anxiety on Mistystar’s face, and she spotted a few of the RiverClan warriors exchanging worried glances.
This weather and the shortage of prey must be really tough for a mother cat and newborn kits in the nursery, Bristlepaw thought. Sparkpelt and Sorrelstripe probably feel the same . . . but I haven’t noticed, because I’ve been so focused on my own worries. A sharp claw of guilt pierced her as she realized how self-centered she had been, thinking only about how the harsh leaf-bare had spoiled her chances of becoming a warrior.
At last the noise died down again and Bramblestar turned to Leafstar. “How are things in SkyClan?” he asked.
Leafstar seemed reluctant as she rose to her paws, padding forward until her branch began to dip gently under her weight. “Life is hard in SkyClan,” she reported, “but perhaps not as hard as for the rest of you.” Her tone was hesitant, and Bristlepaw guessed she was aware that her news might spark resentment from the other Clans—especially from ShadowClan. “Our territory is in a sheltered valley,” the SkyClan leader went on, “and there are caves in the hills beside our top border, where we could withdraw if things get any worse.”
Bristlepaw could hear muttered comments from some of the warriors in the clearing below, and Tigerstar’s shoulder fur began to bristle as if he thought he was facing an enemy.
“How lucky for you,” he muttered.
Leafstar turned to him with a lash of her tail. “Let’s not start arguing about this again,” she mewed. “The new boundaries were agreed on by all the Clans, including ShadowClan.”
Tigerstar’s only reply was a snort as he sat down on his branch again.
“This is all very well,” Jayfeather began again, rising from where he was sitting beside Alderheart, “but none of it really matters. Why aren’t we talking about why we’ve lost our connection with StarClan?”
This time, Jayfeather’s words seemed to reach the cats around him; Bristlepaw could hear uneasy murmurs spreading throughout the crowd.
“Why are we cut off?” Crowfeather from WindClan called out. “And will the connection come back again?”
“Who will watch over us now?” some cat added from among the SkyClan warriors. Bristlepaw couldn’t see who it was, but she could hear the alarm in the cat’s voice.
“Calm down.” Mosspelt, the RiverClan elder, rose to her paws and waved her tail to emphasize her words. “The Moonpool is frozen! That must be what’s keeping StarClan away. But don’t worry. Newleaf will come; it always does.”
More yowling broke out, some cats agreeing with Mosspelt and others snarling their objections. Bristlepaw looked in dismay at their bristling fur and extended claws.
They can’t start fighting—not at a Gathering!
But before a blow could be struck, a single word rang out across the clearing. “Enough!”
Every cat turned to look up at the Great Oak. The cat who had called out was Tigerstar, on his paws again and sweeping the clearing with a commanding gaze.
“What Jayfeather says is not quite right,” he meowed when the assembled cats were quiet once more. “There is one cat who can still communicate with StarClan.”
Jayfeather looked outraged, but before he could speak, Puddleshine nudged a young cat to step forward from the group of medicine cats. Bristlepaw recognized him as Shadowpaw, the ShadowClan medicine-cat apprentice. He’s my kin, she remembered. . . . His mother, Dovewing, was the littermate of her own mother, Ivypool. He said nothing, but only stood blinking up at his Clan leader.
“Shadowpaw,” Tigerstar announced, “has received a message from StarClan.”
Chapter 10
Shadowpaw gazed at the assembled warriors, who were all staring back at him, as if they couldn’t believe what Tigerstar had told them. Something twisted in his belly, like a snake trying to bite him from the inside. Ever since the lightning strike, when he had awoken beside the Moonpool in a puddle of slush, he had felt that something wasn’t right with him. And he couldn’t find any explanation for it.
“Go on,” Tigerstar encouraged him. “Tell the Clans what you told me and Puddleshine.”
Gulping nervously, Shadowpaw launched into the story of how he had woken in his den and been compelled to go back to the Moonpool. “Then, when I got there,” he continued, “there was a bright flash of light, and I heard a voice. I think I was struck by lightning.”
“Struck by lightning?” some cat in the crowd repeated. “Sure, and hedgehogs fly!”
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” Reedwhisker, the RiverClan deputy, asked. He sounded sympathetic, but Shadowpaw could sense that he didn’t believe a word of his story. “I’ve seen what lightning strikes can do,” the black tom went on. “It wasn’t long ago that lightning almost destroyed our camp. If you had really been struck, you wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.”