“Hi!” Bristlefrost called up to him, pleased to see a familiar and friendly face. “That’s a great job you’re doing.”
Flipclaw glanced down at her, and the look in his eyes wasn’t friendly at all. “You wouldn’t know a great job if it sat up and bit you,” he mewed coldly. “Or you wouldn’t have been so eager to turn your back on Jayfeather and Lionblaze, after all they’ve done for the Clan.”
The barbed comment shocked Bristlefrost so much that for a few heartbeats she couldn’t find words to reply. Her brother leaped down from the den wall and stalked past her before she recovered. Bristlefrost gazed sadly after him.
I should have told him what I did for the exiles, she thought. But he didn’t give me the chance.
She wanted to curl up in her nest and sleep, forgetting all her problems for a while, but as she was padding up to the entrance of the den, she spotted Finleap. The brown tom was crouching with hunched shoulders underneath an elder bush that grew in a crack in the den wall below the Highledge, avoiding the rain. He looked so unhappy that Bristlefrost felt sorry for him, and she trotted over to sit beside him.
“Twigbranch will be okay,” she murmured in an attempt to comfort him.
“I know she will,” Finleap responded, “but that doesn’t make it all right. Why should we expel our Clanmates like this? Why should I have to lose the cat I love because Bramblestar says so?”
His voice rose on the last few words; Bristlefrost felt all her muscles tense, and she glanced around to see if any cat might have overheard him. She touched her nose to his shoulder in a warning gesture, but Finleap hardly seemed aware of her.
“Why would StarClan want this?” he asked, growing even more impassioned. “I did the same thing—I left the Clan I was born in—and I wasn’t named as a codebreaker!”
“For StarClan’s sake, be quiet!” Bristlefrost hissed. She didn’t want to sound so fierce, but for Finleap’s own sake he had to stop protesting so loudly. “Remember, it’s Bramblestar’s order, and the code tells us we have to do what he says.”
Finleap gave her a long, melancholy stare. “I’m disappointed in you,” he mewed. “We might not know each other well, but I always thought you had a mind of your own.”
Before Bristlefrost could respond to the accusation, an irritated yowl came from the Highledge above. “What cat is screeching down there when I’m trying to rest?”
Horrified, Bristlefrost leaped to her paws. She had forgotten how close she and Finleap were to the Clan leader’s den; now she looked up to see Bramblestar peering blearily down from the Highledge. Beside her, Finleap was standing stiff-legged, his ears laid back and his shoulder fur bristling. Bristlefrost was terrified that he would challenge their leader.
“I’m sorry, Bramblestar!” she called quickly. “It’s okay. Finleap and I were just having a stupid argument.” She paused for a moment, then added, “May I please speak to you in private?”
Bramblestar hesitated, then replied with a grunt and jerked his head to invite her to come up. Finleap relaxed his hostile stance and gave Bristlefrost another disappointed look before turning his back on her and heading toward the warriors’ den.
Bristlefrost climbed up the tumbled rocks and onto the Highledge. I’d better think of something to talk about—and fast, she told herself, her thoughts whirling uselessly like a startled nest of bees.
Bramblestar had returned to his den; when Bristlefrost reached the entrance, she saw that he was sprawled out on the heap of moss and bracken against the back wall.
“Come in,” he growled. “What do you want?”
Bristlefrost had only asked for the meeting to separate Bramblestar and Finleap.
“I just wanted to ask if you’re okay,” she meowed. “It’s great that StarClan will be back with us soon.”
Bramblestar flexed his claws. “I’m doing fine,” he rumbled. “But what can you tell me about the rest of the Clan?”
“Oh, they’re doing fine, too,” Bristlefrost assured him, desperately eager. In reality she was finding it hard to carry on the conversation—she was too distracted by the terrible state of the den. “You know, they’re all a little wet, but in good spirits.”
Bramblestar’s bedding was lumpy and smelled stale. It looked as if it hadn’t been changed for a moon, and there were prey bones and scraps of fur scattered everywhere. They were giving off a reek, too.
It was never like this before Squirrelflight left, Bristlefrost thought. Has Bramblestar been forbidding the apprentices to clean it up? Why would he do that?
Even while Bristlefrost was talking to him, the false Bramblestar seemed listless and lethargic, stretching his jaws in a massive yawn instead of paying attention to her.
Bristlefrost couldn’t think of any reason for this unknown spirit cat to have taken over Bramblestar’s body, except to become leader of ThunderClan. But now that he had achieved what he wanted, he didn’t seem to be hopeful or pleased about it. Instead he seemed depressed, like he had lost interest in what it meant actually to be a leader.
Most of the ThunderClan warriors hadn’t noticed Bramblestar’s apathy, because Berrynose had made sure that the routine duties of the Clan were taken care of.
He may be a real pain in the tail, but he’s not a bad deputy.
Several times Bristlefrost had overheard Berrynose giving orders to other warriors, claiming that they came from Bramblestar, when she knew that Bramblestar hadn’t given any orders at all. Stemleaf, Spotfur, and Alderheart had noticed the change, too, but what could so few cats do about it?
A chill like the tapping of icy claws ran down Bristlefrost’s back as she met the hard amber gaze of the impostor. Who is this cat? she asked herself. What does he really want? The codebreakers Shadowsight had named were gone from the Clan. That had seemed to be the false Bramblestar’s goal, but now that he had achieved it, his success clearly wasn’t making him happy. So why is he doing it? Who is this?
Bristlefrost could find no answer to her questions.
The night sky was blotched with clouds as Bristlefrost padded beside Bramblestar and Berrynose on their way to the emergency Gathering. Fitful gleams of moon and starlight struggled to break through the covering, and the forest lay in deep darkness as the ThunderClan warriors brushed through the undergrowth.
Every step was an effort, and Bristlefrost would have much preferred to curl up in her nest and forget her troubles for a while in sleep. Her kin and most of her friends were still keeping their distance from her; clearly they assumed that she supported Bramblestar and his harsh punishments.
From the looks they’re giving me, you’d think I’d rolled in dog dung!
Before they had left the stone hollow more than a few fox-lengths behind, Bristlefrost realized that Bramblestar was paying keen attention to the forest around them, his eyes wide and his ears pricked alertly. He was completely different from the listless cat of earlier that day.
Now what does he think he’s doing?
Soon Bramblestar halted and plunged his nose into a thick growth of moss on the root of an oak tree, sniffing deeply. Turning to Bristlefrost, he asked her, “Is that Squirrelflight’s scent? Has she been here?”
Bristlefrost wasn’t sure how to react. She knew very well that far too many days had passed since Squirrelflight’s banishment for her scent to have survived on ThunderClan territory. But why was Bramblestar asking? Was he looking for reassurance that the exiled deputy was gone?
Hoping to please him, she took a sniff of the moss. It smells like . . . moss. “I’m not sure,” she replied to Bramblestar. “It could be.”
Bramblestar gave her a curt nod and continued toward the lake, but he was still watchful, and a few paces farther on he stopped to sniff at the debris beneath a holly bush and asked Bristlefrost the same question. There was a strange, wistful look in his eyes. Bristlefrost tried to keep her answers vague. She knew that Squirrelflight was living on ShadowClan territory, but she dared not give the interloper the least hint of that.