“But you found Firestar!” Brambleclaw reminded her.
The she-cat’s gaze softened. “So I did.” She pressed her muzzle against his. “Tread carefully in whom you trust,” she whispered.
This life washed through Brambleclaw’s mind like an ice-cold river, making his ears ring and dazzling his eyes with light. He felt a stab of loneliness, as if the life was reminding him that some decisions would be his alone, and the fate of every cat in his Clan would depend upon him making the right choice.
The next cat to walk forward was a dusky brown she-cat with eyes the color of sunlit ice. Her pelt was glossy and the muscles rippled on her shoulders as she padded over the stone. For a moment
Brambleclaw didn’t recognize her, then his heart leaped and he gasped, “Mousefur?!”
The she-cat’s eyes gleamed. “Indeed. Did you think I would always be old and patch-furred, even here? You never knew me when I was young and strong, Brambleclaw. But this is how I will be for the rest of memory.” She stretched up to touch his cheek. “I give you a life for listening to your elders, for taking advice even when it is not expected. The oldest cats have seen the most, and there is precious little that is new, even beside the lake. Trust their wisdom, learn from their mistakes, and remember that without them, you would have no Clan to lead.”
Brambleclaw’s mind filled with countless murmurs and he was buffeted by unseen cats brushing past him on both sides. The hollow was overflowing with cats! He strained to hear what they were saying, but the whispers were too quiet and too numerous to pick anything out. Brambleclaw felt his legs start to tremble from all the memories that swirled around him, and he was grateful when a cat put its shoulder against his side to steady him.
“It’s all right,” said a deep voice. “Receiving nine lives is always hard, but you are fresh from a battle as well. Stay strong, it will soon be over.”
Brambleclaw opened his eyes and looked up at the gold-striped tabby in front of him. The tom’s shoulders were even broader than Brambleclaw’s, and the way he held his head made Brambleclaw think of the lions that were described in nursery tales.
“I am Lionheart,” rumbled the huge tom. “I died in a battle with ShadowClan before you were born, but I have watched you grow, and I know you will make a great leader for my precious
ThunderClan. I give you a life to have the greatest pride in your Clan, to honor the legacy that has been left by the leaders who have walked this path before”—he paused and nodded to Bluestar and Firestar—“and to have the courage to lay down your own paw prints over theirs. This is your chance to shape ThunderClan’s destiny. Use it wisely and make us proud.”
Lionheart had to stoop to rest his muzzle on top of Brambleclaw’s head. Brambleclaw was filled with a warm energy that made his fur stand on end. He pictured all the ThunderClan cats around him, felt their support like a blast of wind that could power him upward, higher than the treetops, to do whatever he wanted to do. “Thank you, Lionheart,” he whispered breathlessly.
The noble cat stepped back and dipped his head. “It is always an honor to bestow a life,” he meowed.
A lightly framed cat whose pale gray fur was dotted with darker flecks trotted forward. Her green eyes were wide and earnest. Brambleclaw stared at her with a swell of grief. “Ferncloud!”
The she-cat nodded. “Oh, Brambleclaw, this is a bittersweet meeting for both of us. I am so sorry to have left you all behind. Please look after Dustpelt for me, and all my precious kits.”
“I will,” Brambleclaw promised. “They miss you so much.”
Ferncloud’s eyes darkened. “And I miss them. But tell them I am watching over them and will be waiting for them always.” She gave herself a shake. “I have a life to give you, Brambleclaw!” She sounded almost kitlike with excitement. She reached up and nudged his chin with her nose. “My life is for understanding that it is not only warriors who play a part in protecting the Clan. She-cats who choose to live in the nursery do just as much as those who patrol borders and stock the fresh-kill pile.
We raise every new apprentice, feed every small mouth, teach every kit the importance of the warrior code. Without us, the Clan would be as rootless as an upturned tree. Honor the mother-cats, Brambleclaw, for we give you all life.”
Brambleclaw was plunged back into the nursery, his nose filled with the scent of milk and warm fur, soft moss enclosing him while his mother licked his ears. The small, shadowed space seemed full of more cats than he could recognize, all bending over him, watching him with warmth in their eyes and purrs rumbling from their bellies. Brambleclaw’s chest swelled with gratitude for everything these she-cats had done for his Clan, bringing new lives into the world and nurturing them until they were strong enough to hunt and fight alone. “Thank you, all of you,” he murmured, and the cats around him nodded and carried on soothing him until he felt an urge to drift off to sleep.
“Wake up, Brambleclaw!” said an amused voice.
Brambleclaw blinked open his eyes and saw a dark gray she-cat standing in front of him. Her blue eyes reflected the stars as she watched him. “Cinderpelt!” Brambleclaw exclaimed.
The she-cat dipped her head. “It took me a while to reach StarClan, but I am here now,” she meowed. Brambleclaw wanted to ask her what she meant, but she went on before he could speak. “I give you a life for offering second chances,” she announced, pressing her muzzle to his. “If a plan fails, if a Clanmate disappoints you, if destiny seems the wrong way around, never despair. Have the faith to try again, learn from what happened before, and success may come. The best things come to those who wait, Brambleclaw. Trust me.” Again amusement bubbled up in her voice, and Brambleclaw relaxed into the flood of energy that raced through him. Suddenly he felt strong enough to fight every battle twice, double the size of the fresh-kill pile, and train apprentices for twice as long as usual, until they had every skill, every battle tactic perfected.
Cinderpelt brushed her tail lightly along his flank, glanced at Firestar, then padded back to the ranks. Another gray she-cat walked forward, paler than Cinderpelt, with eyes the color of a dawn sky in newleaf. Brambleclaw’s breath caught in his throat. This was not a cat he had expected to see.
The she-cat nodded as if she knew what he was thinking. “I walk with the Tribe of Endless
Hunting now,” she meowed, her voice echoing as if she was still among the vast mountains and tumbling waterfalls where the Tribe cats lived. “But tonight I have come here with my StarClan friends to give you one of your lives.”
Brambleclaw bowed his head. “Oh, Feathertail, not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. I am so sorry we left you behind.”
Feathertail flicked her ears. “But I was part of the Tribe’s prophecy, remember? The silver cat who would destroy Sharptooth? The mountains are where I belong, but I have never forgotten the Clans. I watch over you still, and I am so, so proud of you, Brambleclaw.” She reached up and pressed her soft, stone-scented cheek against his. “I give you a life for exploring beyond the borders of your Clan, for seeing the possibilities that lie in unexpected places, and the untrodden paths that wait to be discovered. You are not trapped by your invisible boundaries. If you cannot find the answers within them, then look farther off. There is always hope somewhere.”
The sharp, slicing wind that Brambleclaw remembered from his stay in the mountains whipped around him, buffeting his fur and rocking him on his paws. He heard the keening cry of an eagle far above him, and his pelt felt damp from the mist thrown up by the waterfall. A pang of longing shot through him, for all the cats he had known and lost, for the long path he had followed in search of a new home for the Clans, for the sights he had seen far beyond the lake and the hills.