Rootpaw trailed a little way behind as he and his Clanmates set out for their own territory. He couldn’t help thinking that Leafstar was making a terrible mistake.
If only I could explain exactly what I saw in the pool, he thought sadly, his gaze fixed on his paws. Or if Tree hadn’t ended the song just at that moment! Why does everything have to go wrong?
His Clanmates were walking in near silence, and Rootpaw started in surprise at the sound of Leafstar’s voice. He looked up to see Leafstar padding beside him, her amber gaze sympathetic.
“Try not to worry too much, Rootpaw,” she mewed, her tone reassuring. “All is not lost—not yet. We’ll see what happens, and when we’re ready, we’ll act.”
Rootpaw nodded, though he guessed Leafstar could see he was finding her promises hard to accept.
“Frecklewish and Fidgetflake have praised how hard you’ve been working,” his Clan leader went on. “But they also say you don’t seem that enthusiastic about being a medicine cat.” Leafstar halted and looked deeply into Rootpaw’s eyes. “It’s up to you, Rootpaw. Honestly, now, if you listen to your heart, do you really want your paws to follow the path of a medicine cat?”
Rootpaw thought about the tasks he had carried out in the medicine-cat den. He had felt pride in mastering something new, but none of the joy he experienced in making a good catch on a hunting patrol or sniffing the fresh dawn air in the forest as he set out to patrol the border. And a deep pang of loss pierced him at the thought of never having a mate and kits. He let out a deep sigh. “No, I don’t,” he admitted.
He had half expected that Leafstar would be angry, but instead she nodded in understanding. “I’m proud of you for considering so seriously where you belong,” she told him. “Consider yourself a warrior apprentice again—but not for long. Tomorrow I’ll talk to Dewspring about your warrior assessment.”
For the rest of the way back to SkyClan territory, Rootpaw felt that his paws were carrying him on the wind.
Chapter 9
Bristlefrost arched her back in a good long stretch, while her jaws parted in a massive yawn. She felt chilly and stiff, her pelt still damp from rain that had fallen during the night. Above her head, she could just make out the trees at the top of the hollow, their tracery of branches outlined against a sky paling toward dawn.
“Thank StarClan it’s morning!” she exclaimed to Rosepetal, who was sitting on the opposite side of the camp entrance.
Rosepetal nodded and raised one paw to lick it and scrub it over her face. “Now that Bramblestar has doubled the guards, we’ll all be keeping watch twice as often,” she complained. “He says he wants to keep the camp safe, but we were perfectly fine before.”
“True.” Bristlefrost blinked in an attempt to keep herself awake. “I can’t wait until I can go for a nice piece of prey and a nap.”
Rosepetal licked her paw again and gave her ears a wash. “I’m so looking forward to that!” she sighed. Then she glanced at Bristlefrost nervously. “I’m sure Bramblestar has a good reason for adding guards, though,” she added.
Bristlefrost sighed. I wish every cat didn’t think I was going to run off to Bramblestar to report everything they say.
Slow, uncertain paw steps sounded in the thorn tunnel, and both she-cats straightened up anxiously as Bramblestar appeared at the entrance. Bristlefrost remembered seeing him leave the camp just after sunset. Where has he been all night?
The false Clan leader appeared not to notice the two guards as he dragged himself into the camp. His head was hanging low, and his tail brushed the ground as if he was very tired. Bristlefrost noticed too how much weight he’d put on.
What can you expect when he takes first pick of the fresh-kill pile and doesn’t hunt or patrol anymore? He’s lost a lot of his energy.
“Greetings, Bramblestar,” Rosepetal meowed, dipping her head respectfully, and Bristlefrost echoed her words. But Bramblestar looked at neither of them, replying only with a grunt. He headed across the camp, his dark pelt soon lost in the darkness that still lay over the stone hollow.
Bristlefrost and Rosepetal waited for a few more moments, hoping that the Clan leader had gone to his den. Then, as the dawn light strengthened, they followed him farther into the camp, their guard duty over with the approach of day.
Heading for the fresh-kill pile, Bristlefrost was just in time to see Bramblestar leave a half-eaten squirrel behind him and shamble off into the medicine cats’ den. She exchanged a worried look with Rosepetal.
There’s something off about Bramblestar, Bristlefrost thought. She knew that even the most loyal ThunderClan warriors could see it now, but still, she didn’t dare to share the thought with Rosepetal. In grim silence the two warriors chose their prey; Bristlefrost devoured her mouse in a few hasty gulps, then headed for the warriors’ den.
Bristlefrost could tell that it was raining again as she woke in her nest. The sloshing of busy cats tromping through the mud reached her through the branches of the den. Rosepetal had already left, and apart from Bristlefrost the den was empty.
Bristlefrost rose, shook scraps of moss and bracken from her pelt, and gave herself a quick grooming. Then she ventured out into the camp.
Instantly, drizzle matted her fur. Not far from the entrance of the den Bristlefrost spotted her brother, Flipclaw, in the middle of a group of younger warriors, and paused to listen to what they were saying.
“You’ll never guess what a weird dream I had last night,” Flipclaw was meowing. “I was hunting some birds, and suddenly they grew to three times their size. They were huge! They looked really fierce, and they turned around and started chasing me!”
“Wow, scary!” Plumstone commented.
“You better believe it. I was their prey, and they had this creepy sparkle in their eyes. I knew somehow they would get me! I was running and running, but they were flying faster . . .”
As Bristlefrost listened, amused at the outlandish story, she noticed that Bramblestar had appeared from somewhere and was also listening to Flipclaw, his eyes narrowed. Seeing that Bristlefrost had spotted him, he gave her a nod and shuffled off, back to the medicine cats’ den.
Why is he spending so much time there? Bristlefrost wondered. Is he sick?
Just at the entrance to the den, Berrynose intercepted him. “Bramblestar, Sorrelstripe reported—”
The Clan leader cut him off with a dismissive wave of his tail. “Whatever it is, deal with it,” he snapped. “Are you Clan deputy or aren’t you?”
Bristlefrost’s amusement at her brother’s weird dream had faded; watching their leader’s erratic behavior made her deeply uneasy. Her pads itched with curiosity, and when Bramblestar had disappeared into the den, she sneaked closer, crouching in the shelter of the brambles that screened the entrance.
At first, she could only hear murmuring, until Bramblestar raised his voice, his ill temper as obvious as if she had been able to see his face.
“I’m your Clan leader!” he snarled. “The warrior code makes it clear that you have to do what I tell you.”
“But I can’t find anything wrong with you,” Alderheart responded, his voice calm and reasonable.
“And I’m telling you that I’m in pain!”
From the tone of Bramblestar’s voice, Bristlefrost could believe him. She was surprised to feel an unexpected pang of pity for him.
“I’m sorry about that,” Alderheart continued. “But I can’t give you any more poppy seeds. It’s not safe.”
Bristlefrost blinked in sudden understanding. Poppy seeds were strong. If Bramblestar had been taking them regularly, it would explain why he had become so lethargic.