Bramblestar was calling me from the Moonpool, he thought with quickening excitement. That could be his voice!
Without hesitating, Shadowsight set off toward the sound, picking up the pace until he was racing along with his tail streaming out behind him and his belly fur brushing the grass. The cries grew louder, and at last he could work out where they were coming from: a vast oak tree covered in fungus and lichen, with vines hanging from its branches like the tails of crouching predators.
Shadowsight halted, his chest heaving for breath as he stared at the tree. His first thought had been that he must free any cat in danger under this starless sky, but now he wondered whether the voice was a trap.
How could Bramblestar’s spirit have ended up here? he asked himself.
More cautiously now, he prowled forward, encircling the tree from a few fox-lengths away. On the far side he spotted a wide gash in the trunk, blocked by branches crisscrossing from one side to the other, with brambles, twigs, and debris shoved into the gaps. The voice was coming from behind the barrier.
“Help me!”
I was right—I know that voice! Shadowsight realized, a thrill of excitement pulsing through him from his ears to the ends of his claws. “Bramblestar?”
“Yes, it’s me!” There was sudden hope in the voice behind the barrier, though it was still very weak. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Shadowsight. Wait—I’ll get you out.”
Sliding out his claws, Shadowsight began to tug at the branches, but they were all too heavy for him to move. What I need is a couple of strong warriors! Instead he began to claw at the bramble tendrils, ignoring the thorns that caught in his fur and pierced his pads. When he had dragged away several of the tendrils, Shadowsight tore at the smaller debris until he had opened up a narrow gap at the bottom of the gash in the trunk. Peering through it, he spotted a hunched tabby shape and the gleam of intense amber eyes.
“It is you, Bramblestar!” Shadowsight exclaimed. “Can you get out through here? I don’t think I can move the heavy branches.”
“I’ll try.”
Shadowsight was doubtful as he watched Bramblestar’s spirit trying to squeeze himself through the tiny space, remembering what a big cat he was in the living world. But somehow the ThunderClan leader managed to haul himself into the open, where he collapsed, wheezing.
“Thank you, Shadowsight,” he gasped when he could speak. “I thought I would never get out. I was too weak to move that stuff, and getting weaker.”
“But how did you get in there?” Shadowsight asked eagerly. “Which cat—”
Shadowsight broke off as, without warning, he felt his legs begin to shake. Losing his balance, he fell to the ground. He could hear voices echoing from far away.
“Puddleshine! Do something!”
“I’m fetching yarrow.”
Bramblestar scrambled to his paws and came to Shadowsight’s side. “What’s the matter?” he asked anxiously.
Shadowsight tried to respond, but his belly was convulsing. Bitter bile rose up into his throat. All around him the trees of the Dark Forest were fading, and he could make out the shadowy outlines of more cats bending over him.
“I’m . . . waking up!” he gasped out.
“Then take me with you!” Bramblestar meowed urgently. “I can—”
The rest of the ThunderClan leader’s words were lost on Shadowsight’s next breath. His eyes flew open and he found himself sprawled on his side in the medicine cats’ den. A pool of vomit lay on the ground beside him, speckled with the bright red spots of the deathberry he had eaten.
Somewhere nearby he could hear his father yowling. “Shadowsight, what have you done?”
With difficulty Shadowsight managed to sit up. He was frustrated to be dragged away from Bramblestar’s spirit just when he was on the point of learning what cat had stolen Bramblestar’s body, but very glad to be back home. He could still smell the stink of rotten fungus, but he was safely away from the grim territory of the Dark Forest.
Blinking, he saw Puddleshine crouching at his side, a leaf of yarrow in his claws. Tigerstar was standing over him, his horrified gaze fixed on his son.
“It’s okay,” Shadowsight reassured his father. His throat hurt and his voice was hoarse. “I knew what I was doing. And now I know what’s keeping StarClan away.”
Chapter 20
Rootspring crouched beneath an arching clump of ferns a couple of tail-lengths from the ThunderClan border. His head raised, he parted his jaws to taste the air for fresh ThunderClan scent. As long as he didn’t cross the border, he hoped that he wouldn’t be in trouble if he was caught here.
But I’d still have a problem explaining just what I’m doing. I’d rather not be seen by any ThunderClan cats.
He had been crouching beneath the ferns for so long that his legs were starting to stiffen and ache; he knew it might be difficult if he had to make a quick escape to avoid the rival Clan. But as much as he wanted to stand up and stretch, he forced himself to stay in hiding, waiting for Bristlefrost.
Rootspring was beginning to wonder whether he was ever going to see any ThunderClan warrior, but finally the long grass on the other side of the border parted and a cat came into view. It wasn’t the cat Rootspring wanted to see, though: It was the false Bramblestar, heading along the border.
Rootspring tensed as he watched the dark tabby tom, noticing that his pelt looked dull, as if he hadn’t groomed it in the last moon. He couldn’t relax until the impostor padded safely out of sight and his scent began to fade.
Where is he going? he asked himself, then gave his pelt a shake to dismiss the question. It isn’t time to confront Bramblestar yet, not until Leafstar and Tigerstar agree. I’m not here for Bramblestar.
Once he was certain that the ThunderClan leader had left, Rootspring crept a little closer to the border, scanning the territory for any sign of Bristlefrost. Eventually he spotted her, winding her way through a clump of elder bushes, with Molewhisker and Hollytuft following her. They were clearly a hunting patrol; Rootspring’s jaws began to water at the scent of the prey they carried.
When she was only a couple of fox-lengths from the border, Bristlefrost halted and dropped the vole she was carrying. All three cats looked uncomfortable; Rootspring was too far away to hear what Bristlefrost was saying, but she seemed to be giving the two older warriors instructions.
Since the other warriors had their backs to Rootspring, he risked rising to his paws and padding a bit closer, bushing out his fur to make himself as big as possible.
Come on, Bristlefrost—look at me!
Finally, Bristlefrost’s gaze fell on him, and her eyes widened slightly. Rootspring gestured with his tail for Bristlefrost to meet him up a nearby tree, but the pale gray she-cat looked back toward the ThunderClan warriors. To Rootspring’s relief, she didn’t give him away.
Now that he had moved within earshot, Rootspring could make out what Bristlefrost and the others were saying.
“We’ve hunted well,” Bristlefrost meowed. “You can take the prey back to camp.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Hollytuft asked. Her voice sounded a little cold.
Bristlefrost shook her head. “I just remembered that Flipclaw asked me to bring back a few sprigs of chervil, if I could find any.”
“Okay,” Molewhisker responded, exchanging a glance with Hollytuft. “We’ll see you back at camp.”
He and Hollytuft collected their prey, including Bristlefrost’s vole, and headed off in the direction of the ThunderClan camp. Bristlefrost stood looking after them until they disappeared into the undergrowth.