Эрин Хантер - Veil Of Shadows

“Then I’ll go and look for her right away,” Bristlefrost mewed, not knowing what else she could say. What will he do if I don’t come back with Squirrelflight? she wondered nervously. But maybe Squirrelflight would agree to come back. That would be so wonderful! If she did, Bristlefrost wouldn’t have to carry this burden of pretending to agree with Bramblestar alone any longer. And if the impostor made Squirrelflight deputy again, she might be able to influence his behavior and protect their Clan. Bristlefrost dipped her head and backed out of the den, her belly trembling with relief once she was away from the impostor’s baleful eyes.

Down on the floor of the camp, her Clanmates were huddling into groups, clearly discussing Bramblestar’s latest edict. Near the medicine cats’ den, Flipclaw seemed to be arguing with Alderheart. As she passed the groups of whispering cats, they fell silent, watching her warily.

Bristlefrost didn’t wait to speak with any cat, only bounded across the camp and straight out into the forest. To begin with, she headed in the direction of the Twolegplace, in case any cat might be watching her, or—a horrific thought—Bramblestar himself decided to follow her. Once she was sure she was alone, she veered along the top border of SkyClan territory, then crossed into ShadowClan and made for the exiles’ camp.

As Bristlefrost approached the camp entrance, Squirrelflight appeared out of a bank of ferns, followed by Twigbranch and Dovewing. All of them were carrying prey; it had been a successful hunt.

“Squirrelflight, I have to talk to you!” Bristlefrost called out, bounding toward her.

Squirrelflight’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay, come into camp,” she mumbled around the vole in her jaws.

Bristlefrost followed the hunting patrol through the fern tunnel and waited while Squirrelflight deposited her prey on the fresh-kill pile.

“Would you like to eat with us?” Squirrelflight asked.

Bristlefrost shook her head; her belly was roiling, and she felt that she couldn’t have swallowed a single mouthful.

“I can see something’s bothering you,” Squirrelflight meowed, resting her tail-tip briefly on Bristlefrost’s shoulder. “What has Bramblestar done now?” She led Bristlefrost to one of the flat rocks beside the stream, where they could settle down in the sun. “It is Bramblestar, I suppose?”

“Or the thing inside him,” Bristlefrost responded. “He’s changed more than ever,” she continued, “and he seems to have lost all control. Now he’s calling himself StarClan’s only representative, and he says that StarClan has forgiven you. He wants you to come back. Oh, Squirrelflight, I wish you would!”

A gleam of longing lit in Squirrelflight’s green eyes, and Bristlefrost realized how much she wanted to be part of her Clan again. Then, reluctantly, she shook her head. “I can’t, Bristlefrost. I’m still loyal to ThunderClan, but there are ThunderClan cats here among the exiles. I’m still protecting my Clan. They need me here.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Bristlefrost asked, struggling with deep disappointment. “Bramblestar isn’t going to let this go. He’s going to keep searching for you. What if he finds out about this camp?”

Squirrelflight sat silent for a few moments, her head bowed. Bristlefrost watched her in an agony of impatience, but she knew better than to interrupt the former deputy’s thoughts.

At last Squirrelflight looked up. “I know what we must do,” she meowed. “You must tell Bramblestar that I’m dead.”

Bristlefrost stared at her. She had never told such a massive lie before, and she guessed she never would again. And will Bramblestar believe it? she asked herself. I can’t imagine it will work. . . . “I told you,” she mewed at last, “Bramblestar won’t let this go. He’ll need proof.”

“Then we must give him some,” Squirrelflight responded calmly.

While Bristlefrost wondered what she meant, Squirrelflight rose to her paws and padded over to the medicine cats’ den, which Jayfeather now shared with Mothwing. Halting at the entrance, she called out, “Jayfeather!”

The blind medicine cat padded out into the open, the scent of tansy clinging to his pelt. “Oh, it’s you, Bristlefrost,” he muttered. “What has that mange-ridden furball done now?”

Quickly Squirrelflight told Jayfeather how Bramblestar had forgiven her and wanted her to go back to ThunderClan. “I’m not going, of course, so what we need to do is convince Bramblestar that I’m dead,” she explained. “Tell me, Jayfeather, can you wound me in a way that would cause a lot of bleeding but heal easily and safely?”

Bristlefrost suppressed a gasp of shock, staring at Squirrelflight. That’s so risky . . . and would Bramblestar even accept it?

Meanwhile Jayfeather was gaping at Squirrelflight. “ Wound you? Have you got bees in your brain?”

“No, I haven’t!” Squirrelflight retorted. “But these are desperate times. If you can think of a better idea, tell me what it is.”

Jayfeather let out a snort. “I’m not going to injure you on purpose,” he insisted, his voice rising in anger. “I’m a medicine cat, not a weasel!”

As he was speaking, Mothwing stuck her head out of the den. “What’s going on?” she asked. “What’s all the meowing about?”

“Squirrelflight has lost whatever wits she possessed,” Jayfeather replied with a disgusted lash of his tail. “She wants me to wound her.”

“Bristlefrost and I need to create proof that I’m dead,” Squirrelflight explained. “It’s the only way to stop Bramblestar from looking for me. Jayfeather doesn’t like the idea of blood.”

“No, I don’t. The whole idea is ridiculous!” Jayfeather hissed. “It’s gone too far when a cat asks a medicine cat to wound her and—”

Squirrelflight looked at Mothwing pleadingly. “I know that Bramblestar won’t let this go,” she said. “If he’s determined to bring me back to camp, he’ll keep looking for me and sending patrols to look for me. Some cat would be bound to eventually figure out where I am, and that would expose all of us.”

“I’ll do it,” Mothwing interrupted. “Wounding a cat is a lot easier than healing one. But are you sure that’s the only way? Seems pretty brutal.”

“I’m sure,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Bristlefrost has told me how relentless he’s been about searching for me. It’s clear that he won’t let me go until he has to.”

Mothwing nodded, considering Squirrelflight’s words. “Good enough for me,” she said. “Besides, if we don’t do something now, he might come searching again, and we can’t risk him finding us here. He’d start a war with ShadowClan. And Jayfeather, if you don’t believe that you and I together can’t let a little blood from a cat and heal her afterward, you’re the one who has lost your wits.”

Jayfeather glared at her from sightless blue eyes. “I don’t want anything to do with this!” he snarled, and whipped around to disappear into the den.

“He’ll come around,” Mothwing mewed, entirely unimpressed by Jayfeather’s exhibition of temper.

I wonder how those two are getting along, Bristlefrost wondered, briefly amused in spite of the tension around her. I’d like to be a fly on the wall of that den!

“We’ll both look after you when it’s done, Squirrelflight,” Mothwing continued. “There’s no need to worry.”

“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!