Эрин Хантер - Veil Of Shadows

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 Bristlefrost 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.

The Clan began to assemble, those who had been sheltering in their dens hunching their shoulders against the driving rain as they ventured into the open. Bristlefrost made herself take a place at the front of the crowd, though she dreaded hearing what Bramblestar might be planning next.

“I have an important announcement to make,” Bramblestar announced when the Clan had gathered. “Last night, Jayfeather and Alderheart returned from the medicine-cat meeting at the Moonpool. They brought the news that Shadowsight, the young ShadowClan cat whose visions have helped us face up to our codebreaking ways, has gone missing.”

Bristlefrost’s heart lurched at the news. Her forepaws kneaded the muddy ground as she remembered her meeting with Bramblestar the night before, and the blood clotting on his chest. She remembered too that Rootpaw and Tree had been planning to tell the medicine cats the truth about Bramblestar’s spirit.

I wonder if they convinced them. Her apprehension swelled as she added to herself, Does Shadowsight’s disappearance have anything to do with their plan?

“I believe Shadowsight has fled from the Clans,” Bramblestar continued, his voice cold and severe. “I believe he couldn’t cope with knowing that his mother, Dovewing, shared the blame for driving StarClan away, and that all codebreakers must be punished. Shadowsight was weak.”

Bristlefrost stared at her leader in shock. What is he talking about? She didn’t know the young ShadowClan medicine cat well, but she knew enough to believe there was no way he would have left his Clan—and his kin—willingly.

Bramblestar paused, gazing down at his Clan, and his voice grew warmer, trickling from his jaws like honey. “But of course, you, cats of ThunderClan—you are stronger. Those of you who need to atone will do so, and those who resist will be punished. In this way, we will set an example for the other Clans.”