Эрин Хантер - Veil Of Shadows

“He said Rootspring and Shadowsight had always been a bit odd—”

“No argument there,” some cat murmured out of the darkness.

Shadowsight didn’t know whether to be amused—because he had to admit there was some truth in what Harestar had said—or indignant that his pain and the risks he had taken were being brushed aside like flies hovering over fresh-kill.

“Then Harestar said there were few cats he trusted more than Bramblestar,” Puddleshine continued. “And he desperately needs StarClan’s favor to return prey to the moor. Both he and Mistystar will still support Bramblestar.”

“But what about Alderheart and Flipclaw?” Squirrelflight asked. “Didn’t that mean anything to Kestrelflight and Willowshine?”

“They were both shocked by it,” Puddleshine told her. “I think that’s what made them decide to pass on all the news to their leaders. But it didn’t make any difference to Harestar or Mistystar.”

“Great StarClan, what will it take?” Crowfeather snarled, while murmurs of frustration and disgust rose up from the other cats.

“That’s the problem,” Tigerstar meowed, raising his tail for silence. “RiverClan and WindClan believe that their only hope of seeing StarClan again lies with Bramblestar, so they will never see the bad in him. There’s no hope of winning more allies to our side.” He paused for a heartbeat, then added, “It’s time to attack—even if we are outnumbered. We have to kill Bramblestar.”

“No!” Shadowsight instinctively let out the cry of protest. “How could we kill him?” he continued, as every cat, including Tigerstar, swiveled to stare at him. “Bramblestar isn’t just some bad cat. He isn’t himself. There is something inside him, something evil. But we know from Rootspring that Bramblestar’s ghost is still around here somewhere.”

Now every cat looked toward Rootspring. Shadowsight expected support from him, but the young warrior avoided his gaze, shaking his head sadly.

“I haven’t seen Bramblestar’s ghost for a full moon now,” he confessed. “I’m afraid he’s . . . faded.” At last he looked Shadowsight in the eye, and went on. “I’m very sorry to say this, but I’m not sure there is a real Bramblestar anymore. Our chance to save him may have passed.”

Shadowsight stared back at Rootspring, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He wanted to protest, to yowl out his fervent belief that there still was a chance to restore the real Bramblestar.

But before Shadowsight could utter a sound, the scene in front of him changed. Flames roared upward, cutting him off from the rest of the cats, consuming everything. He recognized the same vision he had received before he killed Bramblestar’s body, the one that had convinced the other medicine cats that his visions were real.

In that vision, fire had divided all the Clans. This time, Shadowsight began to move with the flames, through the forest and up onto the moors. He paused, looking down at the Moonpool. As he set paw on the spiral path, the flames around him died, and he let out a gasp as he found himself back in the exiles’ camp.

None of the other cats seemed to have noticed anything. Squirrelflight had sprung up beside Tigerstar on the flat rock, arguing with vehement gestures of her tail. “I’m telling you that Bramblestar can be killed,” she insisted. “Or at least his body can. And then what will happen to the real Bramblestar’s spirit?”

“I don’t know,” Tigerstar growled in response. “What concerns me is the thing inside him. That has to be stopped, once and for all, before it destroys the Clans. We must attack. We have no other choice.”

“I understand, Tigerstar,” Squirrelflight mewed. “But please—could you just capture Bramblestar, and not kill him? As a prisoner, he couldn’t do any more damage, but it would give us a chance to find the real Bramblestar and reunite him with his body.” As she finished speaking, Squirrelflight’s figure seemed to sag and she let out a long sigh.

It pained Shadowsight to see the brave and determined she-cat so discouraged. He realized that she, too, was beginning to lose hope that the real Bramblestar would ever come back. It made his own hope start to wither like a seedling under the fierce sun of greenleaf.

“Maybe we could take him prisoner,” Lionblaze agreed. “But are we right to attack at all? Can we be sure that we’re strong enough to defeat the impostor?”

“We’re strong enough,” Crowfeather growled, narrowing his eyes at his son. “Just let me get my claws in him!”

“But if we fail,” Lionblaze argued, “then our entire rebel group will be wiped out. There would be nothing to stop the false Bramblestar controlling all the Clans.”

Instantly cats began to raise their voices in support of one warrior or the other, and for a moment Shadowsight was afraid that the meeting would break up into groups of squabbling cats. Then Tigerstar let out a loud caterwaul.

“Silence!” he ordered. “The time has come to attack! Getting rid of that mangy interloper is worth the risk. We can never be sure we’re strong enough, but this is the right thing to do, even if we may not win! We are warriors! Are we afraid of a cat who doesn’t even have his own body?”

Yowls of “No! No!” came from the ShadowClan cats around him. The cats from other Clans seemed surprised by Tigerstar’s fervent speech, but inspired enough to join in. Even Shadowsight was impressed, though he still felt uneasy about the attack.

Will it feed the flames of my vision, dividing the Clans? he wondered. Or will it stop them?

“We are agreed, then?” Tigerstar continued in a quieter voice, once the clamor had died down. “We will attack in two sunrises. And,” he added, with a glance at Squirrelflight, “if possible we will take Bramblestar prisoner.”

Squirrelflight nodded. “In two sunrises,” she repeated, though Shadowsight could see the fear and misgivings in her eyes.

Fire blazed up around Shadowsight, though he couldn’t feel any heat from the flames. He knew that he was lying curled up in his nest in the medicine cats’ den, but he also seemed to be hovering over the lake with the Clans’ territories spread out beneath him.

Just as in his first vision of fire, the flames were encroaching on the Clans, slowly devouring them. Shadowsight could hear the despairing wails and shrieks of agony of cats trapped in the blaze. The water level fell in the lake, as if some gigantic mouth were sucking it down, and a cloud of steam billowed up, obliterating Shadowsight’s vision.

“Help! Help!”

Shadowsight stiffened as he heard the voice, weak and faint as if it had reached him from an immense distance. Somehow he knew it was coming from the Moonpool.

It’s . . . it’s Bramblestar!

At that moment Shadowsight startled awake in his own nest. Puddleshine was asleep at the far side of the den, letting out gentle little snores. Everything seemed peaceful, but Shadowsight knew that he had been given a task.

I have to find the real Bramblestar. But how do you find a ghost?

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Bramblestar’s voice had come from the Moonpool. What did that mean? Was Bramblestar there? What did it mean, to be at the Moonpool as a ghost? Wherever Bramblestar was, he needed help.

A heartbeat later, Shadowsight knew what he had to do.

Shadowsight searched among Puddleshine’s herb stores until he found what he needed. For a moment he hesitated, thinking of Tigerstar and Dovewing, and what they would say if they knew what he meant to do. Then he looked at Puddleshine, so close to him, and he remembered his other Clanmates, and the cats of the other Clans, all of them in desperate need. With his resolve strengthened, he chewed and swallowed.