At Alderheart’s direction, she pulled together moss and bracken from the store in the den to make a nest for Bramblestar. Stemleaf lowered him gently into it.
“He’s so cold,” Alderheart mewed, stretching out a paw to touch Bramblestar’s forehead. “I just don’t understand. He was fine when he left for the hunt. How did he get sick so quickly?”
Neither Bristlefrost nor Stemleaf could answer that question.
“Is he losing a life?” Bristlefrost asked.
Alderheart shook his head. “No, not yet. But if we can’t give him the right treatment soon, he will.”
Leaving his father’s side, Alderheart padded to the back of the den where the medicine cats kept their herbs. Bristlefrost lingered, watching him curiously; he was sorting through the various heaps, but he didn’t seem to know what he was looking for.
As she watched, the bramble screen at the entrance to the den was brushed back, and Jayfeather appeared. He halted, sniffing, then asked, “Bramblestar’s here? What’s happening?”
Alderheart came forward again and explained to Jayfeather what Bristlefrost had told him. “Bramblestar needs treatment,” he finished. “But I’m not sure what to do for him.”
“I’ll examine him,” Jayfeather began, then broke off and swung around so that he was facing Bristlefrost; she found it hard to believe that he couldn’t see her.
“What are you doing, hanging about here like a spare piece of prey?” he demanded. “Out. Now.”
“Okay.” Bristlefrost turned to go, hearing Jayfeather ask if Alderheart had given Bramblestar anything.
“No, I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Alderheart replied.
As he spoke, Bristlefrost heard a sudden rustling, and a weak voice calling, “Alderheart?”
Bristlefrost spun around to see Bramblestar struggling to sit up, his amber eyes wide and intense. Alderheart sprang to his side, supporting his father against his shoulder.
“Alderheart . . . I must talk to you.” Bramblestar’s voice was weak, his words separated by desperate gasps, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.
“No, you have to rest,” Alderheart mewed. “You’re here in my den; we’ll take care of you.”
“No . . .” Bramblestar’s tail lashed once and for a moment Bristlefrost caught a glimpse of the strong and positive leader he had always been. “Listen. I had a terrible dream. . . .”
“Let him talk,” Jayfeather meowed. “Whatever it is, he needs to get it off his chest.”
“I saw the Clans fighting one another,” Bramblestar went on, his voice strengthening slightly. “Everything was chaos. The sky was dark—there were no stars, only a thin claw-scratch of a moon. And then even that faded, and I couldn’t see the cats anymore. I could only hear their terrible howls and screeches as the battle went on.”
Alderheart stifled a gasp, deep trouble in his face. “There were no stars . . . ,” he whispered.
“Is it true?” Bramblestar asked. “Has StarClan forsaken us?”
Alderheart glanced up at Jayfeather, then back at his father. At the same moment, Bristlefrost saw Jayfeather’s expression change to mingled anger and panic.
“Alderheart!” Jayfeather took a pace toward the younger medicine cat, his tail raised as if to prevent the younger cat from speaking.
Alderheart shook his head slightly. “The time for silence is over,” he told Jayfeather. “Yes, it’s true,” he responded to his father’s question. “StarClan still isn’t sending us messages, and we don’t know why.”
Bristlefrost felt a jolt in her belly as if some cat had thrown a rock at her. I had no idea! she thought. Still nothing from StarClan, moons later? Is that why Jayfeather and Alderheart have been looking so stressed lately?
“The medicine cats decided we would say nothing!” Jayfeather snapped. “Alderheart, you agreed—”
“You can’t hide StarClan’s abandonment from the leaders!” Bramblestar interrupted him. “It’s far too serious. Alderheart, you were right to be honest.” His chest heaved again, his back arching, as if he was struggling to stay conscious. His voice rasped as he continued, “I’ll remember you were honest, when not many cats were.”
And what does that mean? Bristlefrost wondered. Jayfeather looked taken aback, as if he didn’t understand it, either.
“Action must be taken,” Bramblestar went on, still in the same throaty tone. “But Alderheart, you shouldn’t be afraid. You’ve done the right thing by telling me.”
“What action?” Alderheart asked, his expression uncertain. “Bramblestar, tell us what you want us to do.”
Another spasm shook Bramblestar’s body, and his voice had weakened again as he replied, “Fetch Squirrelflight. . . . Tell the leaders. . . . You must get back in touch with StarClan!”
Alderheart looked up and spotted Bristlefrost still standing beside the entrance to the den. “Fetch Squirrelflight,” he repeated.
Bristlefrost nodded, but before she could move, another convulsion shook Bramblestar. He reared up out of his nest, all four paws lashing as if he was trying to attack an enemy. His head was thrown back, his jaws stretched wide in a terrible silent wailing. Then he went limp and collapsed to lie unmoving among the moss and bracken.
Chapter 17
A blustering wind flattened Rootpaw’s fur to his sides and made his eyes water as he gazed down at the medicine cats around the frozen Moonpool. He couldn’t believe that he had been chosen to come here and witness this desperate attempt to make contact with StarClan, along with three of the Clan leaders and many senior warriors. He stared in wonder at the icy cascade where a stream had frozen as it poured down into the pool, and at the frosty glitter of icicles hanging from the rocks.
The medicine cats were padding restlessly around the pool. From time to time one of them would stretch out a paw and touch the surface, as if they were testing the ice. Rootpaw noticed that none of them looked happy about what they were doing; Mothwing and Jayfeather especially seemed edgy, their anxiety clear in their twitching tails and whiskers.
Rootpaw’s sister, Needlepaw, stood beside him, and just behind them their parents, Violetshine and Tree. They waited at the top of the hollow, inside the line of bushes, at a respectful distance from the pool itself. Alongside, stretching out in a line, were the representatives of the other Clans.
I know this is an honor and all, Rootpaw thought, flexing his claws in a futile effort to keep his paws warm. But I wish they would get on with it!
“What are they doing down there?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. “If the water is frozen solid, what can they do? It’s not like they can start chipping away at the ice with their claws, right?”
“The leaders have suggested using a thick branch,” Tree told him. “If they position it over a rock, they can lever it to hit the ice much harder. They hope that breaking the ice will help the medicine cats contact StarClan.”
Rootpaw tried and failed to imagine any cat doing that. I wonder whose mouse-brained idea that was!
“I don’t understand what point there is in warriors being here at all,” Needlepaw mewed, shivering and fluffing out her fur against the cold. “We’re not allowed down by the pool, so what good can we do any cat, standing up here freezing our paws off?”
“The medicine cats asked us to come, because they might need help,” Violetshine responded. “And it shows StarClan how determined we all are to get in contact with our ancestors again.”
“But are warriors even supposed to be here?” Needlepaw asked. “I thought the Moonpool was only for medicine cats.”