Эрин Хантер - Veil Of Shadows

Near the entrance to Tigerstar’s den, Crowfeather stood by himself, his disapproving gaze raking across the camp. “I should have expected that ThunderClan and ShadowClan wouldn’t be able to get along,” he meowed, not speaking to any cat directly, but loud enough for several cats nearby to hear him. “Not even when it’s in every cat’s best interest. I ran things much better as WindClan’s deputy, but I won’t poke my whiskers in if no cat cares to ask for my help.”

While he was speaking, Tigerstar emerged from his den, casting an annoyed glance at Crowfeather as he padded past him to greet Frecklewish and Rootpaw.

“This won’t do,” he began abruptly. “I can’t put up much longer with ShadowClan being the shelter for all the outcast warriors. There are just too many cats in the camp.” With a brusque nod to Frecklewish, he continued, “What’s the news in SkyClan? Leafstar’s the only other leader with enough sense not to listen to Bramblestar’s demands. Do you think she’d be able to give shelter to some of these cats?”

Frecklewish exchanged a doubtful glance with Rootpaw, then shook her head. “Leafstar has decided that SkyClan will go along with Bramblestar for now,” she replied, “as long as there’s no evidence of Bramblestar hurting any cat. That means that, officially at least, it’s four Clans against one. I’m sorry, Tigerstar, but this isn’t a good time to try to move the exiled cats out of ShadowClan territory.”

For a moment Rootpaw was afraid that the ShadowClan leader would explode in a burst of fury. But then Tigerstar’s tail drooped with frustration and weariness, and Rootpaw noticed for the first time how thin and anxious he looked. Glancing across the camp, he spotted Dovewing near the fresh-kill pile; she looked just as ill as her mate.

I know how worried they must both be about Shadowsight.

As the hunting patrols finally headed out of the camp, Squirrelflight and Cloverfoot padded over to stand beside their leader.

“Are we going to have this confusion every day?” Squirrelflight asked. “I don’t want to tread on your tail, Cloverfoot, but some of the exiles don’t know which of us they should listen to.”

“I’m not one to stay where I’m not wanted,” Crowfeather meowed, stepping forward to join the group before Tigerstar could respond. “But why can’t the exiled cats move to the old SkyClan camp that’s now on ShadowClan territory? I know no cat has lived there for a while, but we could fix it up.” He tilted his head toward the warriors’ den, from where loud sounds of squabbling still split the air. “It would solve that problem, for sure.”

Tigerstar looked worried for a moment; Rootpaw guessed that he didn’t like the idea of cats from other Clans setting up their own camp on his territory. Then his expression cleared, and he gave a brisk nod. “You’re right, Crowfeather. This can’t go on. We’ll give it a try.”

“The rebel cats could meet there, too,” Squirrelflight suggested. “That would make it less likely for outsiders to find out that ShadowClan is involved.”

“Excellent,” Crowfeather meowed with a satisfied flick of his ears. “I’ll call the exiles together.” He disappeared into the warriors’ den, and Rootpaw heard his voice raised in a commanding yowl. “Cats who are not in ShadowClan, come here to me!”

“I know where the old camp used to be,” Cloverfoot told Tigerstar. “I’ll lead the exiles there.”

“Some of them are out hunting,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “I’ll wait here until they’re all back, and then bring them along.”

Tigerstar waved his tail in agreement and let out a sigh of relief. “Then maybe we’ll get a bit of peace around here.”

But Rootpaw saw the anxiety still lurking in Tigerstar’s eyes, and knew that there would be no peace for the ShadowClan leader until he knew what had happened to his son.

Cloverfoot took the lead as the exiled cats emerged from the warriors’ den, and they climbed the slope in a straggling line, moving toward the bramble barrier that edged the camp. Crowfeather brought up the rear.

As Rootpaw watched them go, he realized that Squirrelflight was standing beside him. She bent her head and spoke quietly into his ear. “Rootpaw, can you help me see Bramblestar again?” she asked, her green eyes gleaming with eagerness. “I have a lot I need to discuss with him.”

Rootpaw looked around, but there was no sign of Bramblestar’s spirit. Since his last appearance to the medicine cats, Rootpaw had hoped that he might be sticking close to Squirrelflight. But if he’s not here . . .

“I’m sorry,” he replied reluctantly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen his spirit.”

He hated to see the light die from Squirrelflight’s eyes, to be replaced with an anxiety that reflected his own. If Bramblestar isn’t with Squirrelflight, and I haven’t seen him in days, Rootpaw asked himself, then what could have happened to him? How long can a spirit linger outside its body?

And how will the Clans ever return to normal if the real Bramblestar is truly gone?

Chapter 6

Bristlefrost glanced around curiously as she padded through the fern tunnel into the old SkyClan camp. The morning sunshine had given way to a heavy shower of rain around sunhigh, and gray clouds still hung low over the forest. All the undergrowth was drenched, and Bristlefrost shivered as she paused to shake moisture from her fur.

Stemleaf and Spotfur pushed through the tunnel behind Bristlefrost and came to stand by her side. “What a great place for a camp!” Spotfur exclaimed. “SkyClan must have been sorry to leave it.”

“They didn’t have much choice,” Stemleaf mewed drily. “It is on ShadowClan territory, after all.”

Bristlefrost had to agree with Spotfur: This had obviously been a good camp. A stream ran through the middle of it, overhung by vegetation, with flat rocks here and there that would be great places for cats to sun themselves. At the far end was an old cedar tree with a hollow that Bristlefrost guessed had been the Clan leader’s den. The ferns that surrounded the clearing were reinforced by brambles, though gaps had opened up since the camp had been abandoned. The bushes that must have sheltered the various dens needed work, too, before they would keep out the wind and the rain.

Bristlefrost and her Clanmates had arrived for a meeting of the rebel cats, but so far the only cats she could see in the clearing were the exiles who had moved in there. Not far away from her she could see Crowfeather and Lionblaze facing each other with glaring eyes and fur bristling.

“You and Twigbranch need to get on with repairing the apprentices’ den,” Crowfeather snapped.

Lionblaze rolled his eyes. “It may have escaped your notice, but we don’t have any apprentices,” he pointed out. “Or kits, either. It’s far more important to plug the gaps in the warriors’ den, and fetch moss for nests.”

“We might have apprentices soon,” Crowfeather argued. “If Bramblestar keeps going, we can expect more exiles—I don’t think even the apprentices are safe.”

“Bramblestar can’t keep going—”

Crowfeather interrupted Lionblaze’s protest. “Don’t be naive. We might be here so long that we need a permanent camp, with kits being born here and becoming apprentices.”

Bristlefrost stifled a gasp of horror at the thought that the crisis in the forest might go on for so long. But the squabbling toms seemed unaware of her.

“You might be right,” Lionblaze meowed. “But that’s not happening right now. The first thing we need to do is make sure the warriors who are here now have a place to sleep. Besides,” he went on when Crowfeather looked as if he would go on arguing, “you might be a Clan deputy, but you’re not my Clan deputy, so don’t give me orders.”