Every cat stared at him, stunned by what they were witnessing. Some of them backed away in alarm and confusion, while others took a wary step toward him, as if he were a predator who might lash out at them without warning.
“What’s happening?” Sparkpelt whispered.
After a moment Bramblestar stretched out his forepaws and arched his back in a long stretch, as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep. It wasn’t death, Bristlefrost realized. He looked healthier, too, not so emaciated, and his fur seemed to grow fuller, more sleek, as Bristlefrost watched.
Shadowpaw said he would get worse before he got better, she remembered. Is he finally getting better? Yet Bristlefrost was hardly able to believe what she was seeing. What happened to him? He looked like he was dead, for so long. . . .
Bramblestar padded across to Squirrelflight and dipped his head toward her. “Greetings,” he meowed. “It’s good to be with you again.”
Squirrelflight pressed herself against him and twined her tail with his. She was purring too hard to reply.
Bristlefrost exchanged a shocked, wondering glance with Ivypool. “He’s alive!” she exclaimed. “StarClan hasn’t forsaken us!”
Chapter 23
Puddleshine was already up, busily sorting herbs, but Shadowpaw still lay in his nest as dawn light grew in the ShadowClan camp. He glanced up listlessly as Snowbird appeared; a thorn in her bedding had scratched her nose.
“I’ll fetch you some herbs,” he mewed, beginning to force himself to his paws.
“Oh . . . no, it’s okay,” Snowbird stammered. “Thanks anyway, but I see that Puddleshine has already got some horsetail over there.”
Shadowpaw let out a grunt and flopped back into his nest. Snowbird gave Shadowpaw a wary look as she passed him, and she seemed happy to deal with Puddleshine as he treated her and then sent her back to her warrior duties.
A trickle of cats followed Snowbird as the morning light strengthened, all of them with minor problems, and all of them reluctant to even look at Shadowpaw. Snaketooth actually let out a faint hiss, pointedly turning away. Like I care, Shadowpaw thought, watching morosely with his nose on his paws.
They’re afraid of me, he realized. And they have good reason to be. I killed Bramblestar, at the bidding of . . . who? Or what?
The day before, Tigerstar and Dovewing had tried to comfort him, but there wasn’t much that they could say. Shadowpaw could see in their faces that they too had begun to doubt his connection to StarClan. They knew StarClan wouldn’t direct him to kill a leader.
What made it worse was that Bramblestar’s sister, Tawnypelt, had barely moved since the news was brought to her. She remained crouched in the clearing even when snow started to fall, lazily dappling her tortoiseshell fur. Shadowpaw longed to comfort her, remembering how she had taken him to the Tribe of Rushing Water in the hope that they might cure his seizures. Tawnypelt had been there for him when he needed her, and now he longed to be there for her. But he knew that nothing he could say would help her now.
Grief is spreading from one end of the lake territories to the other, all because of my mistake.
Shadowpaw was still hunched in his nest, gloomily asking himself if there was anything he could have done differently, when he was disturbed by raised voices in the camp outside. He looked up, but he couldn’t rouse himself to go and find out what was happening. The voices sounded surprised rather than hostile, anyway; the camp wasn’t under attack.
Puddleshine hurried out, then reappeared a moment later. “Come on,” he urged Shadowpaw. “Some ThunderClan warriors are here, and they want to speak to you.”
Shadowpaw raised his head, as wary as if he had scented a fox in a thicket. I don’t want to speak to them.
Puddleshine must have realized his nervousness, for his expression softened. “They say they’ve come in peace, Shadowpaw; they’re not angry. And even if they were,” he added, “you’re in the heart of ShadowClan. There’s no way Tigerstar would let anything bad happen to you.”
Slowly Shadowpaw rose to his paws and shook off scraps of moss and bracken from his pelt. Confusion made his movements clumsy. Why wouldn’t ThunderClan be angry? he wondered. These are the cats whose leader I killed.
Shadowpaw ventured out of the den, blinking in the stronger light outside. Lionblaze and Fernsong were there waiting for him, with Tigerstar and Dovewing a couple of tail-lengths away. Both his parents looked tense; Tigerstar had extended his claws, as if he was ready to fight.
As soon as the ThunderClan cats spotted Shadowpaw, they stepped up to him with tails held high in the air and eyes shining with joy. Seeing them like that made Shadowpaw even more bewildered. Tigerstar and Dovewing, and the other ShadowClan cats who were beginning to gather, exchanged confused glances. They don’t know what to make of it, either.
“We’ve brought good news!” Lionblaze announced, his voice warm with happiness. “Bramblestar is alive. Your treatment worked, Shadowpaw.”
Yowls of surprise and excitement exploded from the cats standing around, while Shadowpaw caught looks of pride and respect from Tigerstar and Dovewing.
“We’re so sorry for doubting you.” Fernsong was finding it hard to make himself heard above the joyful clamor. “Maybe you can see things other cats can’t, or maybe StarClan sent you these weird messages so you would have the courage to try something no other medicine cat would have dared. We want you to know that ThunderClan doesn’t bear you any ill will.”
“Quite the opposite, in fact,” Lionblaze added.
Shadowpaw stood still, completely stunned by the praise that every cat was heaping on him. I’m not sure I really did anything. . . . It was hard to accept that StarClan really was guiding him. If they are, they’ve chosen a very odd way to do it. He was still shaken, though he tried to hide his doubts; he didn’t want to spoil the joy of the ThunderClan warriors.
“Bramblestar has called another emergency Gathering for tomorrow night,” Fernsong continued when the noise had died down. “He wants to discuss Shadowpaw’s other visions, and the way forward for all five Clans.”
Tigerstar dipped his head. “ShadowClan will be there,” he promised.
The ThunderClan warriors turned back to Shadowpaw, thanking him and congratulating him again, then took their leave. Once they were gone, his Clanmates crowded around him.
“Good job!” Sparrowtail exclaimed. “I always believed in you, you know.”
Right. And hedgehogs fly, Shadowpaw thought.
“We’re really lucky!” Snaketooth mewed. “StarClan has chosen just one cat to receive their messages—and he’s in our Clan!” Remembering how Snaketooth had hissed at him in his den, Shadowpaw felt wryly amused at how quickly the tabby she-cat had changed her opinion.
Shadowpaw bowed his head, murmuring thanks for his Clanmates’ praise, but he felt more and more uncomfortable with each passing heartbeat. As soon as he could, he escaped back to his den.
Puddleshine followed him, gazing at him with mingled curiosity and confusion. “I’m beginning to doubt myself,” he told Shadowpaw. “I examined Bramblestar, and I didn’t think there was anything to be done for him. But you—my own apprentice—saw a way. Clearly you’re the one whose paws are guided by StarClan.” Shadowpaw wanted to protest, but his mentor went on. “Your connection with them isn’t like any I’ve seen before, but I won’t doubt you again.”