“Maybe, but I’m not sure staying would be good for any of us.” Tree glanced at Rootpaw anxiously. “Why did you run away after the Gathering? It’s not like you.”
Rootpaw felt hot. “I saw something that startled me, that’s all.”
“What startled you?” Tree’s gaze darkened.
“It doesn’t matter.” Rootpaw wished his father would stop questioning him. What could he say? That he’d seen a ghost? What if Tree was proud that he shared the same weirdness?
Tree shifted beside him. “If there’s anything you’re worried about, you can always talk to me,” he mewed softly.
“I know.” Rootpaw felt a flood of affection for his father. He wasn’t like other Clan cats, but he never hid how much he loved Rootpaw, Needlepaw, and Violetshine. Rootpaw felt suddenly lucky to have him. He wished he could tell him about Bramblestar’s ghost. But how would it help? His heart lurched as a pelt shimmered among the alders. He recognized the ghostly fur. Bramblestar had found him and was pacing between the trees a few tail-lengths away. At least the ghost isn’t trying to get my attention. Rootpaw watched Bramblestar out of the corner of his eye as the ThunderClan leader paused and seemed to taste the air. Perhaps my bush disguise worked, he thought. Perhaps it can’t see me. Disappointment pierced his chest as Bramblestar stiffened, his eyes brightening as he caught sight of Rootpaw. Mouse dung!
“Did you learn anything from Fidgetflake?” Bramblestar padded nearer and stared at Rootpaw eagerly. “Do you know who the other Bramblestar is yet?”
Rootpaw blinked back at the ghost helplessly. Did it really expect him to speak? Are you blind? Tree’s sitting right next to me! Rootpaw stiffened as an idea flashed in his mind. Would Tree be able to see the apparition here? “Look,” he mewed loudly, nudging Tree with a paw. A bird was hopping along the branch above Bramblestar’s head. “Should we catch it?”
As Tree stared thoughtfully at the bird, Rootpaw willed him to notice the ghost standing underneath.
“It looks jumpy,” Tree mewed. “It’ll fly away the moment it sees us move.”
Rootpaw’s heart sank. His father still couldn’t see Bramblestar’s ghost. Why not? Frustration welled in his chest. If you can see ghosts, why not this one?
Tree got to his paws and shook the leaf litter from his pelt. He blinked at Rootpaw. “Would you think about leaving the Clans if things get worse?”
Rootpaw shrugged, feeling Bramblestar’s gaze on his pelt. “I don’t know. I want to be a warrior.”
“Think about it,” Tree told him. “I know it’s complicated, but with every Gathering, I can’t help feeling more sure it would be for the best. I don’t like where Bramblestar is leading the Clans. If he pushes this codebreaker talk much further, I think we ought to go.”
Rootpaw saw Bramblestar’s ghost shift uneasily. He wanted to tell his father everything. Tree might know a way to get rid of the apparition. He hesitated. But if Tree knew there were two Bramblestars causing trouble, would he insist on leaving straight away? Rootpaw couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t ready to give up his chance to become a SkyClan warrior. He would have to make this ghost go away by himself. He looked into his father’s eyes. “It will work out,” he mewed earnestly. “I know it will. The Clans won’t let anything really bad happen.”
Tree narrowed his gaze. “I hope so,” he mewed darkly. “But I’ve seen more of life than you. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want.” He brushed leaf litter from Rootpaw’s pelt with his tail. “Are you coming back to camp?”
“I’ll stay here and practice some hunting moves,” Rootpaw told him. He was going to talk to the ghost. The time had come, and even if he couldn’t answer its questions, he could find out what it wanted and, like Fidgetflake had told him, try to figure out a way to honor its wishes. He blinked at his father. “I want to be ready for my assessment.”
“See you later.” Tree touched his nose to Rootpaw’s ear, his breath billowing in the chilly air, then headed between the trees.
The ghost turned its head to watch the yellow tom disappear, then slumped onto the ground. Resting its chin on its forepaws, it stared blankly at Rootpaw. “I don’t know what’s happening,” it murmured. “But if warriors are thinking about leaving the Clans already, it can’t be good.”
Rootpaw stared at Bramblestar. Was he giving up? “You must have some idea what’s going on.”
Bramblestar started in surprise. This was the first time Rootpaw had addressed him. “I’m just as confused as you are,” the ghost confessed.
Rootpaw frowned, thinking. “Perhaps you just need to go back to StarClan.”
“I don’t know how,” Bramblestar told him. “I haven’t seen a single StarClan cat since I died. I’m stuck in the forest.”
“Why can’t you go back to your body?”
“There’s some other cat in it, or haven’t you noticed?”
“Who?” Rootpaw began to pace.
“I don’t know.”
Rootpaw stared at the ghost cat. “Do you think I can do something about it?” he asked. “Because I can’t. I’m not a medicine cat. I’m not even a warrior yet. I don’t even know why you keep following me. There must be another cat who can help you.”
“I’ve tried to find one,” Bramblestar told him. “But you’re the only cat who can see me.”
Rootpaw sat down. “Why me?”
Bramblestar shrugged. “Perhaps you’re the only one who can help me.”
“But how?” Rootpaw huffed, exasperated. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Bramblestar sat up. “You have to get a message to Squirrelflight.”
“Me?” Rootpaw cringed. Squirrelflight was ThunderClan deputy. Even if he could find his way through ThunderClan territory and speak to her, she wasn’t going to listen to a SkyClan apprentice, especially if he tried to tell her that he had a message from Bramblestar’s ghost. “How?”
Bramblestar stared at him, giving a sharp mew. “Find a way.”
If a dead cat has a message to pass on, we must listen to it and do our best to honor their wishes. As he remembered Fidgetflake’s words, a shiver raced along Rootpaw’s spine. Bramblestar was asking the impossible.
He closed his eyes. You want to be a warrior, he told himself sternly. Then do what Bramblestar says and find a way.
Chapter 8
A cold wind swirled around the hollow, and pigeon-gray clouds hung heavily above the camp. Bristlefrost fluffed her fur out to keep herself warm as she tugged a young bramble shoot that was creeping toward the elders’ den. Prickles jabbed her paws, and she leaned down to bite through the young stem where it disappeared into the camp wall. She picked the stem up gingerly between her teeth and carried it to the pile she had made. Finleap and Stormcloud were clearing brambles farther along the wall.
Bristlefrost had organized the dawn patrols, but Squirrelflight had gone back to deciding the patrols for the rest of the day—without telling Bramblestar. So Bristlefrost was busying herself, along with her Clanmates, tidying the camp while she waited for the ThunderClan deputy to emerge from her den. Lionblaze and Spotfur were clearing dusty bedding and old leaves from the nursery while Daisy wove fresh bracken into the roof. Ivypool and Fernsong stripped withered strands of bracken from the walls of the warriors’ den, and Thornclaw and Blossomfall looked for gaps that needed patching in the sides of the apprentices’ den.