“I’m not,” Squirrelflight responded. “I’m just so grateful to you, Mothwing. Can you get what you need right now? And then we’ll head for the Twolegplace.”
I sure hope this works, Bristlefrost thought. Or things will be even worse than they are now!
“It’s this way,” Bristlefrost meowed.
Sunhigh was long past, and the rain had ended when Bristlefrost led Bramblestar to the spot near the Twolegplace where she and Mothwing had helped Squirrelflight arrange the evidence of her “death” one day earlier. Emerging from the trees, she halted beside a Thunderpath. Clumps of grass near the edge were soaked with blood, while strewn on the hard, black surface were several tufts of Squirrelflight’s fur and a single claw. The stench of blood filled the air. She realized now that the blood might smell too fresh, the fur seem too carefully arranged. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She didn’t dare put him off any longer, so they’d had to hurry to set the scene. But she knew if he caught on to the truth, it would mean her life.
Oh, StarClan, let him believe me! Bristlefrost prayed, fighting to hide her fear as the false Bramblestar padded up to join her.
His amber eyes widened as he saw the blood and fur, and then, to Bristlefrost’s astonishment, his face contorted in what looked like real grief. Hunching his shoulders, he bowed his head and flattened his ears. For a few heartbeats he seemed unable to speak.
“She’s dead . . . and I killed her,” he choked out at last.
Chapter 10
“It just set in overnight,” Spiresight explained.
Shadowsight shuddered as he crouched in spirit form once again, looking down at his broken body still sprawled in the ravine. Where his fur was torn away he could see that his wounds were red and swollen. In his next breath he took in the sweetish smell of infection, almost gagging as it hit him in the throat. Yet he couldn’t feel a thing. Normally, that would be a blessing, but right then, being able to feel pain might have helped him figure out what was wrong and how to fix it.
“My Clan thinks I’m dead,” he murmured. “And soon they may be right.” He knew that he would never heal on his own now that his wounds were festering.
Since he first awoke and saw Spiresight, Shadowsight had spent some time observing the other Clans, trying to find some kind of clue as to who had attacked him. It had been interesting to visit other camps, especially ThunderClan’s, where the tension was so thick, he could almost see it. But although it had been fun at first to eavesdrop on private conversations and see cats that he cared about, it soon grew frustrating that he couldn’t communicate with any of them. He didn’t know how Spiresight had done it for so long. Maybe the pull toward the living was not as strong when a cat was truly dead. But if the yearning was even half as strong as what he felt now, he wanted no part of it.
Plus, being a ghost had its limitations. He couldn’t taste scents on the air or feel the breeze rustling through his pelt. It was disorienting. And for all his efforts, and Spiresight’s, they hadn’t learned anything.
“We can’t just go on investigating,” he told Spiresight. “I need my wounds cleaned, and poultices of the right herbs, and the bleeding stopped with cobwebs. Even that might not be enough to cure the infection—but it’s certainly more than a ghost can handle!”
“But who can we tell?” Spiresight asked. He was standing beside Shadowsight, his eyes filled with anguish as he gazed down at his friend’s unmoving body. “We don’t know which cat we can trust.”
“Maybe not, but I know that no cat in ShadowClan would ever hurt me. And I need a medicine cat’s help if I’m going to survive. We need to get Puddleshine.”
Spiresight looked skeptical. “Isn’t Puddleshine one of the cats who was with you the night you were attacked?” Spiresight asked.
Shadowsight nodded.
“He didn’t keep up with you when you searched for the injured cat,” the ghost cat continued. “That gave your attacker time to strike. And Puddleshine chose to stop searching for you and head on to the Moonpool.”
“What are you trying to say?” Shadowsight asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.
“Are you sure Puddleshine wasn’t involved?”
“Of course I am!” Shadowsight retorted. “Puddleshine was my mentor, and he’s one of the most dedicated medicine cats I know. He would never cause harm to any cat, let alone me.”
Spiresight took a step toward Shadowsight, his expression sympathetic but grim. “I know that’s what you believe. Yet until this happened to you, I’m sure you would have sworn that no cat in any of the Clans would have hurt you, but clearly one of them did. So don’t be naive. Think—really think—about who had the opportunity to do this to you. Was Puddleshine there, and did he leave you behind?”
Shadowsight stared at him. “Yes, but I—” He broke off. He couldn’t imagine Puddleshine hurting any cat, but he had to admit that he had been there on the night of the attack, and they had gotten separated. But I can’t believe he was part of a plot to kill me! ShadowClan had had its share of conflict and trouble, but nothing would make him lose faith in his Clanmates, or his mentor. He felt guilty for even entertaining the thought. “Puddleshine would never hurt me,” Shadowsight repeated, and this time his tone left no room for doubt.
Spiresight sighed. “Fine. I’ll have to take your word for it. But there is still a problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Shadowsight.
“There are only certain Clan cats I can communicate with,” Spiresight replied. “And that means we don’t have many choices. There’s a young SkyClan cat who seems to see me. I’ve never spoken to him, but it’s worth a try. His name is—”
“Rootpaw?” A warm feeling spread through Shadowsight at the thought of the young tom. He didn’t know Rootpaw well, but he had always been kind. And he had shown great courage and good sense in the way he’d responded to seeing Bramblestar’s ghost. He seems like a trustworthy cat.
“Yes,” he mewed to Spiresight. “Rootpaw is definitely the cat we need. Let’s go.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Spiresight responded brusquely. At Shadowsight’s stricken look, he went on, “Getting a living cat—even one who is sensitive to spirits—to see me may take some time. Time that you may not have. You’ve already been separated from your body for too long.”
“But—” Shadowsight started to argue.
“Trust me. I’ll go now, and when I return, it will be with a cat who can help.” Spiresight seemed to concentrate for a moment, then vanished.
Shadowsight stared at the spot where he had been. Even though he wanted to be back in his body again, he reflected that there were advantages to being a ghost. But I’m not ready to become one just yet, he thought. You’d better hurry, Spiresight.
Chapter 11
Rootpaw crept between two boulders, keeping his claws sheathed so they wouldn’t scrape on the hard surface. He could just make out the gray fur of the cat in front of him, who seemed unaware of his presence. Drawing his hind legs up beneath him, Rootpaw plunged forward in a pounce; at the same moment he let out a blood-curdling yowl.
He landed squarely on the back of the gray cat, who slid to one side, trying to shake him off. But Rootpaw’s claws were too securely embedded in his fur. Finally, he spoke.
“Okay, you can let go now.” When Rootpaw didn’t move, he added, “Let me get up, you daft furball!”