Rootpaw stared at him, his paws heavy with disappointment. He’d thought Tree might be able to help. He’s as powerless as I am. He blinked at his father. Or maybe not! Hope sparked suddenly from his desperation. “But you’re Clan mediator,” he mewed eagerly. “They’d believe you, wouldn’t they? Bramblestar wanted me to tell Squirrelflight. But I’m just an apprentice. I’ve got no reason to cross their border. You can visit ThunderClan easily. Just say it’s important Clan business and tell Squirrelflight that Bramblestar’s a fake.”
Tree gazed at him solemnly. “I can’t use my position like that,” he mewed gently. “If she doesn’t believe me, it will reflect badly on SkyClan. Squirrelflight could say that I’m trying to undermine ThunderClan. It could go very wrong. It might even start a battle. We can’t risk that until we’re sure of our facts.”
Rootpaw’s pelt tingled. He felt sure another pair of eyes was watching him. He turned around, his heart lurching as Bramblestar’s ghost padded toward him.
“Can he see me?” The ghost nodded toward Tree.
Rootpaw shook his head. “But I’ve told him about you.”
“Does he believe you?” Bramblestar’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes.” Rootpaw nudged his father. “Bramblestar’s ghost is here.”
Tree stiffened, looking around. “Where?”
“Over there.” Rootpaw flicked his tail toward the apparition. Its ghostly pelt was rippling like water in the sunshine.
Tree stared blankly at the patch of grass Rootpaw had pointed out.
“Can you see it now?” Rootpaw asked eagerly. Perhaps if he tried harder, now that he knew where the ghost was . . .
Tree shrugged. “I can’t see every dead cat.” He blinked at Rootpaw. “I wouldn’t want to.”
Bramblestar’s ghost was staring excitedly at Tree. “Is he going to help you speak to Squirrelflight?”
“He can’t,” Rootpaw told it. “Not without getting SkyClan in trouble with the other Clans.”
Bramblestar’s gaze darkened. “He could try.”
Rootpaw stretched his muzzle toward his father. “He wants you to try to talk to Squirrelflight,” he explained.
“I can’t.” Tree stared blankly into space, clearly trying to focus on the spot where he thought Bramblestar’s ghost stood. “This needs to come from Rootpaw. He’s the only cat who can help her speak to you, if she asks—which she certainly will, because she will want proof. And if she figures out that I’m lying, she might think it’s some kind of SkyClan plot. It could cause all sorts of trouble. . . .”
The ghost looked thoughtful. “I guess Rootpaw would sound more genuine.”
Rootpaw’s pelt bristled. “But I’m just an apprentice!” He shifted uncomfortably as Tree and Bramblestar’s ghost looked at him. “How am I even supposed to get into the ThunderClan camp?”
Tree narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You have a friend there, don’t you?”
Rootpaw fluffed out his fur indignantly. “Bristlefrost is not a friend. She’s just a cat I know.”
The ghost’s eyes sparked with hope. “You can visit her, though.”
“Not without getting into trouble!” Rootpaw glared at it.
Tree pricked his ears. “What did Bramblestar say?”
Rootpaw had forgotten that his father couldn’t hear Bramblestar’s ghost. “He thinks I should visit Bristlefrost.”
“Maybe not visit her, exactly,” Tree mewed. “But she might be able to help when you get there.”
“How do I get there?” Rootpaw’s heart was pounding. They were both acting like this was easy.
“You’ll have to sneak in,” Bramblestar’s ghost told him.
“Sneak in?” Rootpaw stared at the ghost, hardly able to believe his ears. A Clan leader was telling him to break the warrior code.
“I can help you,” the ghost pressed. “I know the territory. I can show you how to get to the camp without being seen.” It turned and headed along the hilltop. “Come on. We should go now. There’s no time to waste.”
Rootpaw blinked desperately at his father. “He wants me to go to the ThunderClan camp now,” he breathed. “He says he can help me get there without being seen.”
“You should go,” Tree told him. “If another spirit is using Bramblestar’s body, the Clans might be in danger.” He fixed Rootpaw’s gaze solemnly. “I know he’s asking you to do something dangerous and difficult, but I think you should try. If you get in trouble, I’ll do everything I can to help you. But I know you can do this. Squirrelflight needs to know, and if any cat can persuade her, you can.”
Rootpaw stared into Tree’s eyes, his heart pounding. Tree was right. If Bramblestar’s ghost needed help, he should help it. He nodded to his father. “I’ll do it.”
Bramblestar’s ghost was already disappearing over the crest of the hill. “Hurry up!” he yowled.
“Take care of yourself!”
Tree’s mew rang out across the grass as Rootpaw bounded to follow Bramblestar’s ghost downslope.
Rootpaw’s ears twitched nervously as he stepped across the ThunderClan border.
“This way.” Bramblestar’s ghost was barely visible in the shadowy forest as it hurried past a wide swath of brambles and stopped where the forest floor sloped into a lake of bracken.
Rootpaw hurried after it, keeping close as the apparition led him among the stems.
His nose twitched as ThunderClan scents bathed his muzzle. “Is there a patrol nearby?”
“I’ll scout ahead.” Bramblestar’s ghost signaled for him to stay where he was with a flick of its tail and disappeared. Rootpaw waited, his breath shallow with fear until the ghost finally returned. “It’s clear all the way to the bluebell glade. Quick.”
As Bramblestar moved silently through the stems, Rootpaw followed, wishing his pelt didn’t make them rustle.
“Stop.” The ghost’s order sent alarm spiking through Rootpaw’s chest. He froze as the ghost pulled up and peered from the undergrowth. “Patrol.”
Rootpaw pressed his belly to the earth, holding his breath as paw steps sounded in the distance. He was trembling by the time they’d passed and faded.
“Up here.” Bramblestar’s ghost climbed effortlessly into an oak and disappeared among the branches. Rootpaw followed, scanning the forest as he heaved himself up. The ghost’s pelt was barely visible in the shadows as Rootpaw followed it along a branch, and he watched, alarmed, as it leaped into the next tree. Teetering on the end, Rootpaw stared at the forest floor. He mustn’t fall. There was no cat here to help him. He bunched up his muscles, then leaped, digging his claws deep into the bark as he landed. The branch trembled beneath him, and he clung on tight until it stopped shaking.
Bramblestar’s ghost was already hurrying along it, past the trunk and onto the next branch. Rootpaw’s heart was pounding as he followed the apparition from one tree to the next, thankful for his SkyClan training. He’d never traveled so far in trees before, and by the time he finally leaped down onto the forest floor, his pelt was spiked with fear.
“The camp’s not far,” Bramblestar told him.
Rootpaw swallowed back his dread. If this was scary, what would it be like to sneak into ThunderClan’s camp? He hurried after the ghost as it ducked beneath a bramble.
“Squeeze under here,” it ordered. Rootpaw ducked down and hauled himself beneath the low bush, wincing as the prickles snagged his fur. He was sharply aware of the branches pressing around him. He was so far from home. His fear started to spiral. What am I doing? What if his fur got caught? Who’d drag him to safety? Not the ghost. The ghost couldn’t touch him. Panicking, he scrabbled forward, desperate to be out in the open. At least there he would be able to see where he was.