Veil of Shadows Read online

  “He’s not here,” Mothwing meowed.

  Puddleshine hesitated, blinking worriedly. “I looked for him, but when I couldn’t find him, I thought he’d just decided to go on ahead.” The fur on his neck and shoulders began to bristle. “Where can he have gone?” he asked.

  “You must have missed each other,” Mothwing meowed briskly. “We’ll give him a little longer.”

  The other medicine cats murmured agreement, settling down again beside the Moonpool. Rootpaw could see their growing tension in their twitching whiskers and the impatient flicking of their tails. He felt even more strongly that he didn’t belong here.

  As the moments dragged by, an aching hollow of anxiety opened up inside Rootpaw. Puddleshine, too, was still looking confused, as if he couldn’t imagine what was keeping Shadowsight.

  Rootpaw’s worry mounted until he couldn’t bear it any longer. Shadowsight was the cat who had first spread the news that StarClan was angry with the codebreakers, but he’d since changed his mind and begun doubting his own vision. He has enemies now, throughout the Clans. . . . “Something bad must have happened!” he burst out. “We should go and look for Shadowsight.”

  All the medicine cats turned to look at him with identical blank expressions on their faces. He was afraid that none of them would listen to an ordinary apprentice, but Frecklewish rose to her paws at once.

  “Rootpaw is right,” she meowed. “Shadowsight wouldn’t keep us waiting like this if he had any choice.”

  “He’d better not,” Jayfeather responded, a sarcastic edge to his voice. “If I find he’s run off to chase moths, I’ll claw his ears off!”

  Puddleshine gave the blind cat a hard glare. “If Shadowsight has deliberately wasted our time, I’ll be the one to deal with him,” he snapped.

  But Rootpaw could see from Puddleshine’s hunched shoulders and the droop of his tail that he was genuinely worried. He was the first cat to bound up the path and thrust his way through the bushes, while the rest of the medicine cats streamed after him. Rootpaw and Tree brought up the rear.

  “So much for calling up Bramblestar’s spirit,” Tree murmured with an anxious twitch of his ears.

  “This is more important,” Rootpaw insisted. He felt cold to the tips of his claws. Could an animal have attacked Shadowsight? Or worse—could another cat have attacked him? He shivered at the thought of a Clan cat attacking ShadowClan’s medicine cat. Would any cat really do that? It’s against the warrior code! “I’m sure something bad has happened to Shadowsight. We have to find him!”

  The group of cats climbed down the rocky slope and hurried across the moor, following the WindClan border stream until they reached ThunderClan territory. Maybe we’ll meet him on his way to the Moonpool, Rootpaw thought hopefully. But there was no sign of Shadowsight by the time Puddleshine led them to the place where he had left the lakeshore and headed into the forest in search of the injured cat.

  “This shouldn’t be difficult,” Mothwing mewed to Puddleshine. “Your scent is quite strong still, and so is Shadowsight’s. We only have to follow it.”

  But not many fox-lengths into the forest, the scent trail led into a patch that smelled so strongly of catmint that the cats’ scent was swamped by it.

  “Weird . . .” Puddleshine shook his head in bewilderment. “This is where we heard the cat yowling. I remember, because I thought mint didn’t grow in this part of the forest.”

  “That’s because it doesn’t. This isn’t a catmint patch. Someone brought catmint plants here,” Alderheart pointed out, giving them a good sniff. “And the stems of the grass below are crushed.”

  Rootpaw frowned, trying to work it out. “Maybe some cat—or even a fox—took prey here?”

  “Or someone brought the catmint here to roll in it . . . and disguise his or her scent,” Alderheart suggested, looking serious.

  “I’ve found your scent, Puddleshine,” Jayfeather reported from the far side of the catmint patch. “But not Shadowsight’s. It’s like he walked in here and never walked out again.”

  “But why?” Rootpaw protested. “Why would Shadowsight try to disguise his scent?”

  “Shadowsight! Shadowsight!” Puddleshine’s yowl shattered the silence of the forest, but there was no response.

  “He can’t be close by, if he didn’t hear that,” Mothwing pointed out. “We should split up and look for him.”

  Frecklewish nodded agreement. “We can organize another meeting at the Moonpool once he’s found,” she mewed.

  But before any cat could move, Tree stepped into the middle of the group. “Wait,” he ordered; Rootpaw blinked in astonishment at the authority in his father’s voice. “Whatever happened to Shadowsight might be connected to what Rootpaw has to show us,” Tree went on. “You all promised to listen—will you keep your word?”

  “We can’t trek all the way back to the Moonpool now,” Willowshine protested.

  “We don’t have to,” Tree told her, twitching his whiskers. “Rootpaw can show you right here.”

  With a wave of his tail he beckoned Rootpaw, who stepped forward. The medicine cats gathered in a ragged circle around him. He dug his claws nervously into the earth, sure that every cat must be able to hear the pounding of his heart.

  Fixing his gaze on the branches above his head, Rootpaw reached out with all his concentration toward Bramblestar. Come on, he pleaded silently. You have to come!

  For several heartbeats nothing happened, and Rootpaw began to wonder if he was doing this right. Then, from behind him, he heard a familiar meow.

  “Greetings.”

  Rootpaw lowered his gaze to see the eyes of the medicine cats stretch wide in wonder as Bramblestar’s spirit padded into the center of the circle.

  Yes! It’s working! They can all see him too.

  Even Jayfeather gave a shudder; though he couldn’t see Bramblestar, he clearly recognized his voice.

  But Rootpaw’s excitement didn’t last long. When he took a good look at Bramblestar, he saw how hazy and indistinct his spirit form had become, much less solid than the last time Rootpaw had seen him. Rootpaw’s pelt began to prickle with anxiety, and the sensation grew even stronger as Bramblestar began to speak.

  “I’m thankful you have come,” the ThunderClan leader began, gazing around at the medicine cats. His voice sounded distorted, so it was hard to make out what he was saying. “The longer I’m kept out of my own body, the weaker I’m getting. It’s costing me a lot to appear like this, but I have to . . .”

  On the last few words, Bramblestar’s voice began to fade. His spirit form grew even more indistinct, no more than a smudge of tabby fur against the undergrowth.

  “No!” Rootpaw choked out as the last vestiges of voice and body disappeared. “Wait . . .”

  “Where did he go?” Alderheart demanded, gazing around in confusion. “Rootpaw, can you see him?”

  Desperately worried and afraid, Rootpaw shook his head. “He’s gone.”

  A shocked silence followed his words, broken after a few heartbeats by Fidgetflake. “What was that? Was it even Bramblestar?”

  Kestrelflight let out a snort. “I could barely see or hear it. Rootpaw, are you playing some kind of trick?”

  Rootpaw’s indignant denial was swamped by Willowshine’s sharp tones. “It looked pretty strange to me, too. Why are we worried about this weird Sisters talent, when we should be focused on getting back in touch with StarClan?”

  “It’s a waste of time,” Kestrelflight growled, his shoulder fur bristling up.

  “Now wait a moment,” Alderheart meowed, raising one paw as he faced the RiverClan and WindClan cats. His eyes were deeply disturbed, but to Rootpaw’s relief he didn’t sound hostile. “Why shouldn’t we listen to Rootpaw? Perhaps his talents will help us understand what’s happened to Bramblestar.”

  “Alderheart is right,” Mothwing added, with a severe look at her former apprentice, Willowshine. “I admit I didn’t believe him at first, but now I have the evidence of my own
eyes. That was Bramblestar who stood among us.”

  Jayfeather nodded. “I would know his voice anywhere.” He gave his pelt a shake; Rootpaw guessed he was trying to hide how uneasy he felt. “But if that was Bramblestar, who is the cat who’s leading ThunderClan right now?”

  “And what does it all mean?” Puddleshine asked.

  No cat could answer him.

  Rootpaw stood on the edge of the group, flexing his claws in frustration as the medicine cats continued to murmur among themselves, their heads shaking and their tails twitching as they tried to make sense of the vision they had seen. Tree came and stood beside him; for once, Rootpaw was glad of his solid presence and the warmth of his father’s pelt touching his own.

  Finally, Alderheart’s voice rose above the other medicine cats’. “It’s clear what Jayfeather and I have to do,” he meowed. “And that’s keep an eye on the Bramblestar who’s still in ThunderClan.”

  “And StarClan help him if he’s not really our leader,” Jayfeather growled.

  “That doesn’t help the rest of us,” Frecklewish pointed out. “What do we do? Do we tell our leaders?”

  Mothwing shook her head. “I don’t know. . . . It’s a grave accusation to say that Bramblestar is not really himself—and we have so little evidence to prove it. Perhaps it would be better to keep this to ourselves until we’re sure.”

  Kestrelflight hunched his shoulders, glaring around at his fellow medicine cats. “I don’t know why you’re all getting your tails in a twist,” he rasped. “Bramblestar went on to his next life; it’s that simple. And now he’s going to lead the Clans to reconnect with StarClan. Do you, as medicine cats, want that, or do you want to sow suspicion and discontent by listening to this . . . this apprentice?”

  Rootpaw took a step forward, jaws opening to defend himself, but Tree coiled his tail around his shoulders, drawing him back. “Let them go back to their Clans and think about what they’ve seen,” he murmured into Rootpaw’s ear. “Either they’ll act or they won’t, and arguing won’t change their minds.”

  Rootpaw heaved a heavy sigh. He hated to admit it, but his father was right. He waited beside Tree while the medicine cats said their final farewells and turned toward their Clans.

  “What about Shadowsight?” Rootpaw asked as they were about to leave.

  “What more can we do?” Mothwing asked sorrowfully. “We’ve lost his scent, and if he were close by he would have heard us calling for him.”

  “But we can’t just abandon him!” Rootpaw protested, his shoulder fur beginning to bristle indignantly.

  Puddleshine flicked his tail. “Maybe he’s gone back to ShadowClan,” he suggested. “It’s possible he made it to the Moonpool eventually and didn’t find us there. Maybe we just missed each other?”

  The medicine cats all exchanged glances. Rootpaw sensed their doubt, and he didn’t feel optimistic, either. But it was clear that no cat knew what else to do.

  Tree rested his tail lightly on Rootpaw’s shoulder. “Let it go for now,” he advised quietly. “If Shadowsight is anywhere nearby, we’ll find some sign.” To the medicine cats, he added, “All of you should stay alert for any sign of Shadowsight as you head for your camps.”

  Puddleshine nodded. “Yes, and if you find anything, send word to ShadowClan. But I’ll hope to find him waiting for me back at camp.”

  The other medicine cats murmured agreement. That wasn’t what Rootpaw wanted, but he had the sense to realize it was the best he could hope for. His paws dragging reluctantly, he followed Frecklewish and Fidgetflake on their way home to the SkyClan camp.

  As he padded through the forest beside Tree, it wasn’t only Bramblestar’s fading ghost that weighed Rootpaw’s belly down with dread.

  Where is Shadowsight? What has happened to him?

  Chapter 2

  Bristlefrost slid between the branches of the warriors’ den and into the silver wash of moonlight that filled the ThunderClan camp. Fluffing up her fur against the night chill, she cast a regretful glance over her shoulder at the warm nest she had left.

  I wish I didn’t have to go, but the dirtplace is calling. . . .

  While she padded across the camp, Bristlefrost raised her head to see the half-moon floating in the sky, and the glitter of countless stars. But instead of rejoicing in the beauty of the night, Bristlefrost felt her belly begin to roil in apprehension.

  Where was StarClan now? Why were they keeping silent?

  As she walked back from the dirtplace, Bristlefrost spotted movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see two cats slinking quietly along the stone wall on the far side of the camp. At the same time, the scent of catmint drifted into her nose, so strong that she wondered whether the cats had been rolling in a patch of it on purpose. Tasting the air, she picked up another, fainter tang.

  Could that be blood?

  At first Bristlefrost wasn’t sure which cats these were. They might even be interlopers, disguising their scent, though Rosepetal, on guard beside the thorn tunnel, hadn’t raised the alarm. Then, as the two cats drew closer, she recognized the impostor Bramblestar and the Clan deputy, Berrynose. Her first flash of relief was replaced by unease as she wondered why they were returning to camp so late and smelling so strongly of catmint.

  Bristlefrost headed quickly back toward the warriors’ den, hoping that her Clanmates wouldn’t spot her. But before she could reach the shelter of the branches, she heard Bramblestar’s voice behind her, quiet but insistent.

  “Bristlefrost! Is all well?”

  Turning to face him, Bristlefrost waited for the Clan leader to pad up to her, with Berrynose close behind.

  “Yes, Bramblestar. A quiet night,” Bristlefrost replied, dipping her head respectfully.

  Bramblestar let out a huff of satisfaction. “Good.”

  His manner was normal—he even seemed to be in a good mood—but Bristlefrost felt uncomfortable talking to him. From this distance, she could see his chest fur matted with blood, dark in the silver moonlight. It had turned his pelt into sticky clumps, but there was no sign of a wound, and he was moving easily, with not a trace of pain in his voice. Bristlefrost opened her jaws to ask what had happened, then bit the words back. She was sure of one thing: Questioning the false Bramblestar would be a really bad idea.

  “Good night, then,” Bramblestar mewed, and headed toward his den on the Highledge, while Berrynose padded past Bristlefrost and thrust his way into the warriors’ den.

  Bristlefrost hurried after him, trying to tell herself that the two cats had simply been out on a moonlight hunt.

  But a hunt for what?

  The next morning, Bristlefrost woke to find that the clear night had given way to thick cloud and rain that battered the roof of the warriors’ den. She flinched as an icy drop found its way through the interlaced branches and hit her on the back of her neck. She could hear wind, too, buffeting the trees at the top of the stone hollow.

  “And guess what? I’m on dawn patrol!” she announced irritably as she hauled herself out of her nest and shook scraps of moss from her pelt.

  She hadn’t expected an answer, but Thornclaw looked up from where he was giving himself a quick grooming. “Like any cat would attack us in this weather,” he mewed sourly.

  Bracing herself, Bristlefrost headed out into the wind and rain. Her pelt was soaked in the first few heartbeats as she splashed her way to where Stormcloud was gathering the rest of the patrol together.

  The night before, still and beautiful in the moonlight, seemed so far away that Bristlefrost almost wondered whether she had dreamed the encounter with Bramblestar.

  But it was so real!

  While she slogged around the border with Stormcloud, Molewhisker, and Poppyfrost, Bristlefrost’s brief conversation with Bramblestar repeated itself in her mind. She couldn’t forget the sight of his chest fur clotted with blood. By the time she returned to camp, drenched and shivering, she knew she had to tell some cat what she had seen.

  As Bristlefr
ost emerged from the thorn tunnel, she spotted a hunting patrol just ahead of her, carrying their prey to the fresh-kill pile. Stemleaf and Spotfur were among them. Forcing her aching legs into a run, Bristlefrost crossed the camp and caught up to them, skidding to a stop and almost losing her balance on the muddy ground as they dropped a vole and two mice onto the pile.

  “I have to speak to you,” she murmured. “It’s urgent.”

  Stemleaf turned to her, his eyes wide and questioning, but several cats were crowding around the pile, and he said nothing, only drawing her and Spotfur away from the others. They found a quiet spot beside the wall of the camp, beneath a jutting stone that gave them some shelter from the wind and rain. Spotfur glanced around warily, checking that no cat could overhear them.

  “Tell us,” Stemleaf mewed.

  “Last night I went out to make dirt . . . ,” Bristlefrost began, and went on to describe her weird encounter with Bramblestar and Berrynose, the overwhelming scent of catmint, and the blood clumping Bramblestar’s chest fur. “I don’t want to accuse a leader of something so serious,” she added, “but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. What do you think—am I making something out of nothing?”

  Stemleaf blinked thoughtfully. “Maybe you are,” he responded, “but given what we know about Bramblestar, it doesn’t seem likely. I think he’s up to something.”

  “We’ll have to watch him even more closely,” Spotfur put in.

  “Yes,” Stemleaf agreed. “But we know he sent dogs after Sparkpelt because she’d disobeyed him. And now he’s coming back to camp covered with blood. What will we do if Bramblestar is up to something terrible?”

  “I don’t know,” Bristlefrost admitted.

  Neither of the others could suggest a plan, either. Still tense with anxiety, Bristlefrost returned with Spotfur and Stemleaf to the fresh-kill pile to choose some prey. They were sharing a squirrel when Bramblestar emerged from his den and stood on the Highledge, his amber gaze raking across the camp.

  “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting,” he yowled.