Rootpaw stared at his mother. She must feel very strongly to mention Darktail. Normally she never talks about that part of her life.
Leafstar met Violetshine’s gaze thoughtfully. “That’s true,” she meowed at last. “So it’s decided. We will protect one another. And we will keep our eyes and ears on Bramblestar, and do our best to prevent him from hurting any other cat.”
The Clan leader half turned away, perhaps to go back to her den, then swung around to face her Clan again. “There’s one more thing,” she added, beckoning with her tail to the two medicine cats. “Frecklewish, you said that Rootpaw’s and Tree’s ghost-seeing is as true as medicine-cat visions. So it seems obvious to me we should be asking ourselves: Should Rootpaw be apprenticed to you to become a medicine cat?”
Rootpaw let out a gasp, too shocked by the suggestion to comment on it. Frecklewish was shaking her head uncertainly. “I’ve never heard of a medicine cat with his abilities. . . .”
“That doesn’t mean there can’t be one,” Leafstar told her briskly.
“Of course we could always use another medicine cat,” Frecklewish responded. She gave Rootpaw a look from narrowed eyes, as if he were an unknown herb that might be good for healing or might turn out to be poisonous. “But I can’t say Rootpaw has ever shown much interest in the job.”
At last Leafstar turned to Rootpaw. “What do you think, Rootpaw?” she asked. “Would you be willing to try?”
Rootpaw realized he was gaping at his Clan leader. “I—I’m not sure,” he stammered. “I’d rather be a warrior, but if I’m needed as a medicine cat, I’ll serve my Clan the best way I can.”
Maybe this is a good thing, he tried to tell himself. At least being a medicine cat is a sort of okay way to be weird!
Leafstar turned back to her Clan and raised her voice once again. “Then it is decided. Rootpaw will become a medicine-cat apprentice,” she announced.
At her words, Rootpaw’s belly felt like it had fallen out past his paws and down into the earth. An image of Bristlefrost flashed into his mind, her sleek gray fur and graceful movements, and he suddenly remembered the drawbacks of what he had just promised to do.
My apprenticeship will last even longer, and I’ll be further behind Needleclaw. And maybe even worse—I’ll never be able to take a mate. . . .
Chapter 4
Bristlefrost plodded through the mud, following Bramblestar and Whitewing through the thorn tunnel and back into the ThunderClan camp. Bramblestar didn’t bother to dismiss them; without a word he headed across the camp and up the tumbled rocks to his den on the Highledge.
Whitewing exchanged a friendly glance with Bristlefrost. “You’d better go and help yourself to fresh-kill,” she suggested. “You deserve it after that.”
Bristlefrost nodded in gratitude. She felt every muscle in her body relax at the relief of getting out of the rain and away from Bramblestar for a while. Ever since he had exiled Lionblaze and Jayfeather the day before, he had been poking his nose into the business of every cat in the Clan: not just keeping a paw on their welfare, as a Clan leader should, but popping up inside their dens or listening in on conversations, looking for excuses to send more warriors away.
Meanwhile, Bramblestar had spent a lot of that time with Bristlefrost, but the attention he paid her seemed different. It was like she was exempt from his suspicion. He treated her like a cat he could trust to do as she was told. Now that he had gone for a rest, Bristlefrost felt as if she had escaped from a fox’s den. She spotted Stemleaf and Spotfur sharing tongues under a tree beside the fresh-kill pile, and bounded over to join them.
“Thank StarClan that’s over!” she mewed with a gusty sigh as she flopped down beside them.
“What happened in SkyClan?” Spotfur asked, while Stemleaf snagged a vole from the pile and pushed it over to Bristlefrost.
Bristlefrost took a hungry bite and mumbled her reply through a mouthful of delicious vole. “I’m not sure.” After swallowing, she went on. “Leafstar didn’t seem convinced by Bramblestar urging her to exile more cats.”
“Good for her,” Spotfur commented.
“But it doesn’t help much,” Stemleaf reminded his mate. Under his breath he added, “There’s still no sign of Shadowsight. Could Bramblestar have killed him?”
“No cat has found his body, or any blood,” Spotfur pointed out, while Bristlefrost shivered at having her worst fear put into words. “If Shadowsight was dead, there would be some evidence of it, surely?”
Stemleaf shook his head slowly. “It could have been covered up. Or maybe he’s being kept prisoner somewhere.”
“One thing I’m certain of,” Bristlefrost meowed. “Bramblestar is wrong when he says that Shadowsight ran off.”
“He would never do that,” Spotfur agreed. “He—”
She broke off as Stemleaf stretched out his tail to touch her shoulder, giving her a warning glance. Bristlefrost glanced around to see Stemleaf’s father, Thornclaw, bounding over to join them.
Has Stemleaf told Thornclaw what we suspect about Bramblestar? she wondered. No, he can’t have, or he wouldn’t have hushed Spotfur.
Bristlefrost’s muscles tensed briefly as she reflected on how many ThunderClan cats knew nothing about the false Bramblestar. She and the other rebels didn’t know which cats they could trust. Seeing Stemleaf so tense around his own father, she was reminded how easily the Clan could be divided if they revealed their suspicions too early, without proof. ThunderClan could be torn apart, she thought with a shiver. We must all tread very carefully.
“Greetings,” Thornclaw meowed cheerfully as he sat beside them and chose a mouse from the fresh-kill pile. “The prey was running well today, despite the weather,” he continued. “I’m sure now that newleaf is here, things will start to get better.”
“I hope so,” Stemleaf commented, though Bristlefrost thought he looked dubious. “Might be nice to see the sun again, though.”
“Are you worried that StarClan is sending this terrible weather, too?” Thornclaw tore off a mouthful of mouse and swallowed it. “I gather you’re not alone, but don’t read too much into it. I admit I don’t always understand StarClan, but they’ll explain themselves sooner or later, you can count on it.”
“But do they really want us to exile our own Clanmates?” Bristlefrost asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wondered if she had been too daring. What if Thornclaw reports what I said to Bramblestar?
But Thornclaw didn’t seem at all worried about her question. “You’re young, and of course you worry about these sorts of decisions,” he purred. “But after what I experienced in the Dark Forest—well, I’m willing to do what’s necessary, and now I’m sure things will settle down. StarClan will be back soon, you’ll see.”
Bristlefrost narrowly avoided rolling her eyes, while Stemleaf and Spotfur exchanged another uneasy glance.
“I’m sure you’re right, Thornclaw,” Stemleaf meowed.
Quickly finishing her vole, Bristlefrost excused herself and bounded back to the warriors’ den. Outside, she spotted her brother, Flipclaw, who was balancing precariously halfway up the outer wall; water dripped from his nose as he wove a bramble tendril into a gap that had opened up in the high winds the night before.