I don’t suppose many cats come here, he thought. Scrambling among these rocks would be really hard.
“I wanted to get help for you,” Spiresight went on, “but I didn’t want to leave you in case you woke up.”
Shadowsight blinked affectionately at his old friend. “You were always a loyal cat,” he murmured. “It makes sense that you would be a loyal ghost.”
Spiresight ducked his head, embarrassment in his yellow eyes. “You must have begun to heal from your injuries,” he meowed, “if I’m able to speak with you now. But you’re still in great danger. You’re hovering between life and death.”
Angling his ears, he gestured to Shadowsight to turn and look into the ravine in the other direction. Shadowsight took in a rasping breath as he spotted his own body lying sprawled beside a twisted thorn tree a couple of tail-lengths farther down. He couldn’t believe how battered he looked, his fur torn and matted and a dried trickle of blood spilling from his forehead and over his muzzle. At first he thought that he must be dead after all, until he spotted the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
“I’m between life and death?” he asked, echoing Spiresight’s words. He remembered that after Leafpool’s death Jayfeather had said something similar to the medicine cats, how Squirrelflight and Leafpool had been between two worlds. Jayfeather explained that Squirrelflight had come back, while Leafpool had moved on to StarClan, but Shadowsight had found it hard to imagine.
“Thank you for what you’ve done,” he told Spiresight, not waiting for an answer. “But we need to tell a medicine cat about me. I need real treatment!”
Spiresight gave him a doubtful look. “I thought of that,” he responded, “but I didn’t know which cats I could trust . . . it must have been a Clan cat who did this to you.”
“Really?” Shadowsight didn’t want to believe what his friend had told him, but at the same time a terrible certainty washed over him, icy as a river in leaf-bare. Once more the brief memory of the attack flashed into his mind, this time bringing with it a strong scent of catmint.
The attacker masked his scent with herbs. Only a Clan cat would bother to do that.
“I’m sure of it,” Spiresight assured him, his voice heavy with the knowledge. “I was so shocked, and so worried about you, and in the darkness I didn’t get a good look at the cat. I only detected a Clan scent, mingled with catmint. We need to find out who attacked you, and it will be easier for you to do that as a ghost.”
Shadowsight didn’t think it would be easy at all. The problem seemed like a huge cliff that he didn’t have the strength to climb. It was impossible to think about it, and his mind slid away to something else that was troubling him.
“I was on my way to a medicine-cat meeting,” he meowed. “Do you know what happened there?”
Spiresight shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I do know cats have been looking for you.” Spiresight’s serious gaze fixed on him. “But I’ve heard . . . troubling mutterings from some of your Clanmates.”
Cold claws seemed to grip Shadowsight’s heart as he listened to Spiresight’s words. He remembered how some of his Clanmates had reacted when he’d first begun to have visions. What he saw was so unusual that many of his own Clanmates had thought he was weird or dangerous, until he had finally been accepted by the other medicine cats. “I know some of them think I’m odd,” he murmured. “But surely they would never . . .” His voice faded away as he looked down at his own battered body.
“Are you willing to bet your life on it?” Spiresight asked.
Shadowsight went on gazing at his body for a few heartbeats, then slowly shook his head.
“Good,” Spiresight mewed with a brisk nod. “That’s the right decision. I promise I’ll keep you safe while you’re in my care. Just resting will help you; that’s what I would have suggested if a city cat had been hurt this way. It must be working already,” he added, “because now you’re strong enough to communicate with me as a spirit. If you get any worse, I will find help from a living cat. Meanwhile,” he went on, “we can gather more information about what happened to you.”
“How?” Shadowsight asked eagerly.
“By visiting the Clans in your spirit form. We’ll have to be careful, though,” Spiresight warned him. “It’s dangerous for you to go too far from your body. If you leave it for too long, you might die, and then you would be a ghost forever. Mind you,” he added, with a spark of mischief in his gaze, “being a ghost isn’t all bad. You might even like it better than being alive and decide to—”
“I want to stay alive!” Shadowsight interrupted him abruptly. Then in a softer tone he added, “I’m sorry. I’m grateful to you for guiding me through this, but there’s still so much I have to do, and I need to be alive to do it.” He knew he didn’t have to put what he was facing in words for Spiresight. They both knew the huge cliff wasn’t going away—Shadowsight needed to know which cat was his enemy, and how the attack fit in to the troubles that beset the Clans. And beside that, if he was to recover from his injuries, he would need a cat to help him—one who wasn’t a ghost—so he had to figure out which Clan cats he could trust, and there wasn’t a moment to spare. “How do I start?” he asked.
As an answer, Spiresight pressed himself against Shadowsight’s side. For a heartbeat everything blurred, and when his vision cleared, Shadowsight found himself standing in the shelter of a clump of ferns. Glancing around, he realized that he was at the edge of the old SkyClan camp, where they had stayed when they occupied part of ShadowClan’s territory.
The center of the clearing was swarming with cats; their voices reached Shadowsight’s ears as a confused noise, and at first he couldn’t make out individuals among the mass of fur.
Gradually his confusion ebbed, and he began to make sense of what he was seeing. “There’s Tigerstar!” he exclaimed. “And Dovewing—and that’s Squirrelflight. Oh, and Rootpaw and Tree. Are there cats here from all the Clans?”
Spiresight nodded. “These are the rebel cats who oppose Bramblestar and his plans to exile the codebreakers,” he replied. “Let’s listen and see what we can learn.”
With Spiresight’s encouragement, Shadowsight slipped into the crowd of cats. An argument was raging about whether to kill Bramblestar, though Shadowsight found it hard to pay attention. All his mind was focused on the cats he cared for. His heart ached to see how desperate and exhausted his ShadowClan Clanmates looked, especially his mother and father. A powerful scent of grief wafted from them, making Shadowsight want to wail like an abandoned kit. He padded up to them and looked up into his father’s face.
“Look, I’m here!” he meowed. “I’m not lost—I’m going to be fine.”
But Tigerstar simply gazed through him, unaware that his son was standing less than a tail-length away. Urgency giving strength to his paws, Shadowsight sought out Tree and Rootpaw, who were standing together at the edge of the crowd.
“Can you see me?” he asked. “Please—you must!”
But again there was no response. Finding Spiresight at his shoulder, Shadowsight turned to him and asked, “Why can’t they see me? Tree sees dead cats all the time.”
“I don’t know,” Spiresight replied. “It seems ghosts only appear to certain cats.”
“But they should be able to see me!” Shadowsight flexed his claws in desperation.
“Not every cat with the Sisters’ blood can see every ghost,” Spiresight responded. “And I think it’s time for you to go back to your body.”