Meanwhile Rosepetal had fetched Bramblestar from his den; Bristlepaw saw the Clan leader stop a few tail-lengths away from her while the rest of the cats formed a ragged circle around him.
My warrior ceremony is now? Bristlepaw wondered, frantically beginning to groom herself.
The Clan leader threw back his head and let out a commanding yowl. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”
The four elders emerged from their den and padded up to sit together at one side of the circle. Alderheart brushed past the bramble screen of the medicine cats’ den, followed a heartbeat later by Jayfeather. Sorrelstripe and Sparkpelt sat at the entrance to the nursery with Daisy, while the two litters of kits rolled and play wrestled around their mothers’ paws.
When all the cats were assembled, Bramblestar beckoned Bristlepaw with his tail. She padded up to him with Rosepetal at her side. She could feel the gaze of every cat on her, and held her head high, though it was hard to ignore the nest of mice that seemed to be chasing one another inside her belly.
“Cats of ThunderClan,” Bramblestar began, “one of the most important tasks a Clan leader can perform is the making of a new warrior. And that is the task in front of me today. Rosepetal, has your apprentice, Bristlepaw, learned the skills of a warrior, and does she understand the meaning of the warrior code?”
Rosepetal dipped her head to her Clan leader. “She has, and she does,” she replied. “I am proud to bring her before you.”
“Then I, Bramblestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice,” the Clan leader continued, glancing up at the sky with an unsettled expression. “She . . . has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn.
“Bristlepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”
Bristlepaw let her voice ring out clearly across the camp. “I do.”
“Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name.” Bramblestar paused. “Bristlepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Bristlefrost. I know that StarClan will honor your skill and your determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”
Bramblestar stooped to rest his muzzle on Bristlefrost’s head, and she gave his shoulder a respectful lick, then took a step backward. As if at a signal, all the Clan burst out in yowls and caterwauls of acclamation.
“Bristlefrost! Bristlefrost!”
Warmth spread through Bristlefrost from ears to tail-tip. Her meager catch was forgotten in her pride and happiness. She was purring too hard to speak as her parents came up to congratulate her again, while her littermates bounced around her.
“You’re awesome, Bristlefrost!” Thriftpaw meowed. “But it’s our turn next, don’t forget!”
“Yes, you’ll both be warriors really soon now,” Bristlefrost assured them.
More cats pressed up to give her their congratulations, and Bristlefrost thanked them, but her paws were tingling with impatience for the chance to talk to Stemleaf. Finally, as her Clanmates began to move away, she spotted him standing to one side.
“Bristlefrost is a great name,” he told her as she padded up to him. “I’m so glad you passed this time.”
“Thank you.” Bristlefrost took a deep breath, and strove to stop herself from shaking. It’s now or never! “Stemleaf,” she went on, “I really—really—like you. I’ve always felt that we might be mates someday. And now that I’m a warrior, maybe this is the time for us to start thinking of each other in a new way?”
Stemleaf stared at her, and Bristlefrost saw to her horror that dismay, and not love, was filling his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mewed. “I had no idea you felt like this, Bristlefrost. I like you a lot, but I always thought of you as a friend—a really good friend, almost like another littermate. I’ve never felt . . . that way about you.”
Bristlefrost felt as stunned as if a rock had fallen from the camp wall and hit her on the head. But she wasn’t ready to give up yet. “But now that you know how I feel . . . do you think that in time, Stemleaf, you might feel the same way?”
Stemleaf shook his head. His eyes were full of distress, but that wasn’t much comfort to Bristlefrost. “I don’t think so. Actually, I . . . I like another cat.” His gaze traveled across the camp to where Spotfur was playing with Sparkpelt’s and Sorrelstripe’s kits outside the nursery. “I’m so sorry, Bristlefrost.”
“Oh . . . o-of course,” Bristlefrost muttered, stumbling over her words. Any awkwardness she’d felt in the past was nothing compared to the horrible embarrassment that flooded through her now. “Don’t worry about it. Just forget the whole thing.”
Head down, she fled across the camp, and Stemleaf didn’t follow. A few cats paused to congratulate her as she passed, but Bristlefrost didn’t want to listen. Instead she plunged into the warriors’ den and burrowed into the nearest nest, hiding her head under her paws and tail. This should have been such a proud moment, but now she was full of grief and humiliation. She felt as if a fox were tearing out her belly, and all she wanted was to be left alone.
“Bristlefrost?” She recognized her father’s voice. “Bristlefrost, what’s the matter?”
Bristlefrost didn’t respond to Fernsong. He won’t understand. No cat will understand.
I’ll never be happy again.
Chapter 13
Shadowpaw shivered as he padded behind Puddleshine down the spiral path to the Moonpool. He could see every breath the other cats took, misting the air above their heads, but he knew that the chill he felt was not only because of the snow. There’s something in the air, and it isn’t right.
He and Puddleshine were the last cats to arrive at the Moonpool meeting, and Shadowpaw realized at once that the others were wary of him. The only ones not to glance at him suspiciously were Alderheart, who greeted him kindly, and Puddleshine, who stayed close to him as they took their places beside the pool.
Shadowpaw didn’t know if the other medicine cats had lost their trust in him because of his ominous message or because they believed he had lied at the Gathering about his vision. Or maybe they think ShadowClan is up to something? Whatever the reason, Shadowpaw had never felt so uncomfortable at a half-moon meeting.
Shadowpaw almost dreaded looking at the Moonpool, and when he did, he could see that frost had spread across its surface, covering the water in a sheen of icy blue. It looked as solid as rock. Surely no cat has seen anything like that before!
The other cats, too, were casting uneasy glances at the frozen surface, and none of them seemed quite sure how to conduct the meeting. Kestrelflight was the first to clear his throat and begin to speak.
“We have a little catmint beginning to grow back, in spite of the frost,” he reported. “But it won’t flourish unless the weather gets warmer. Cats are bound to get sick, and times ahead will be tough.”
Willowshine dipped her head in agreement. “Most of the Clan cats are focused on the lack of prey,” she mewed. “But we medicine cats have to look beyond our immediate needs.”
A murmur of assent rose from the rest of the cats. “Sick cats can’t hunt, so there’ll be even less prey,” Alderheart added.
An uncomfortable silence fell again, broken by Jayfeather, who asked the question that Shadowpaw knew must be on all their minds. “Has any cat received a message from StarClan?”