Эрин Хантер - The Silent Thaw

Rootpaw stared at his mentor. He couldn’t tell him that he’d seen Bramblestar’s ghost. He couldn’t tell any cat. They’d think he was mouse-brained. Or lying. Or just weird, like Tree. “I’m sorry.” He looked at the ground, trying to stop himself from trembling. At least his Clanmates were here now. Bramblestar’s ghost wouldn’t try to talk to him while they were here, would it?

“Come on.” Violetshine nudged him along the shore. “Walking will warm you up.” She pressed close beside him as they followed their campmates toward their border. Tree slid in on the other side, his gaze soft with concern, and Rootpaw was grateful for the warmth of their pelts.

As they neared the forest, he glimpsed a ghostly form in the trees. Was Bramblestar’s ghost still following him? Dismayed, he pressed closer to Violetshine. He was going to have to do something about the apparition. But what could he do? It wants my help. But what could Rootpaw do? I’m not even sure if it’s real. As his fur began to dry in the chilly night breeze, Rootpaw tried to think of a plan. His heart felt heavy.

If none of the other cats at the Gathering could see the ghost, it was up to him. Ignoring it wasn’t working. Rootpaw was going to have to talk to the ghost.

The thought sent a chill through his whole body. Maybe, he thought, I should talk to a medicine cat first. . . .

Chapter 5

The dawn chill had already faded by the time Bristlefrost followed Rosepetal, Dewnose, and Lionblaze into the beech grove. The sun glittered between the trees, warm now even though it was still a long while until sunhigh.

Bristlefrost tasted the air, relishing the hazy scents of coming newleaf. “Hurry up,” she called to her sister.

Thriftear was trailing behind. “Aren’t you tired after staying up past moonhigh?” They’d arrived home late after the Gathering and talked for a while before finally going to their nests.

“The fresh air has woken me up.” Bristlefrost was happy to be out with her Clanmates.

Lionblaze glanced over his shoulder, his whiskers twitching with amusement. “Young cats need plenty of sleep,” he teased.

“It’s Thriftear who’s tired, not me!” Bristlefrost lifted her tail indignantly. “I like getting up early. I was awake before dawn to send out the day’s patrols.”

“Show-off,” Thriftear grumbled from behind.

“I’m not showing off,” Bristlefrost told her, feeling hurt that Thriftear had missed the point. She guessed her sister was just crabby because she was sleepy. “I want to help Bramblestar. You heard him at the Gathering. We have to be the best warriors we can be. That’s all I’m doing.”

“I wish you’d assigned me to a later patrol,” Thriftear sniffed.

Bristlefrost ignored her. There was no point in arguing with Thriftear when she was tired.

Rosepetal ducked under a low branch. “I think Bristlefrost has done a great job organizing the patrols.”

Lionblaze followed her. “The borders will be marked and the fresh-kill pile full by midmorning.”

Bristlefrost pricked her ears happily. “Do you really think I did okay?” She padded under the branch, letting the rough bark scrape her spine.

“Yes.” Rosepetal blinked back at her. She’d been her mentor, and there was pride in her gaze. “You were polite and firm. And you matched your Clanmates well. Though I’m not sure Thornclaw will enjoy being out with younger cats.”

Lionblaze purred. “He’s going to have to work to keep up. Flipclaw and Stemleaf are as fast as hares.”

Bristlefrost puffed her chest out, padding past the older warriors as they paused at the top of the slope. The trees thinned here, and the delicate branches of the beeches, still in bud, let sunshine stream onto the forest floor. Her paws scuffed over last leaf-fall’s leaves, hardly more than dust now, as she scanned the trailing brambles. Bramblestar had been so sure of what the Clans had to do at last night’s Gathering. They must uphold the warrior code so that StarClan would return. She was determined to do her best to help. She’d set an example to other cats. StarClan would have no choice but to return. She’d be the greatest warrior ThunderClan had ever known. She swallowed back a purr. She was lucky to have a leader like Bramblestar, who had faith in her and who knew exactly what to do. He’d lead the Clans down the right path, she was sure. Soon everything would be perfect thanks to him.

Mouse-scent touched her nose. She jerked her gaze toward an old beech, where tiny piles of freshly dug earth showed between the roots. She stopped, signaling to the others with a flick of her tail. As Lionblaze reached her, his paws barely made a noise on the forest floor.

Dewnose stopped beside him and followed Bristlefrost’s gaze. “It looks like mice are nesting there,” he whispered, as Rosepetal crept up to join them.

Thriftear caught up, her gaze sharpening with interest for the first time that morning. “There might be a whole family,” she breathed softly.

“Let’s surround the tree,” Bristlefrost suggested. “They might have a secret way out. If we cover every side, we’ll catch at least one.”

“Good idea.” Lionblaze nodded her forward. Clearly he wanted her to lead the way.

Bristlefrost crept quickly and silently toward the beech, crouching down behind it and waiting while her Clanmates fanned out around the roots, each covering a side.

“Thriftear.” Lionblaze blinked at the dark gray she-cat as she dropped her belly to the earth. “You start digging them out. We’ll be ready to catch any that try to escape.”

Thriftear nodded and shuffled forward and began to claw away the crumbly soil, using first one paw, then both, until she was digging deep between the roots.

Bristlefrost pricked her ears. Was that a squeak? She tensed, every hair on her pelt bristling with excitement. A flash of brown fur darted from beneath the root. She slammed her paws down, but it was too fast. It shot away and disappeared beneath the roots of a neighboring tree. Another mouse shot from the nest, then more. Thriftear snatched one up. Lionblaze hooked another and gave it a killing bite. Dewnose leaped, triumph shining in his eyes as he pinned a mouse with each forepaw. He killed one and then the other and sat back on his haunches. “Good plan, Bristlefrost.”

“We’ve caught a morning’s worth,” Lionblaze purred. “And the sun is hardly above the trees.”

“Maybe getting up early wasn’t so bad.” Thriftear held up the mouse she’d caught and purred.

Bristlefrost shook out her pelt. She didn’t care that she hadn’t caught a mouse. She was happy her idea had worked. Her Clan would eat because of her.

“Let’s bury them here and hunt some more,” Lionblaze suggested. “We can pick them up on our way back to camp.”

Thriftear hollowed out a space beneath the tree and Lionblaze and Dewspring dropped their catches into it. As Bristlefrost watched them, her pelt fluffed with satisfaction, she stiffened. A thought flashed across her mind. She’d been so proud of her idea that she’d forgotten it was StarClan who had guided her paws. They’d guided the whole patrol’s paws. “We never thanked StarClan for the prey!” Alarm sparked beneath her pelt. Thanking StarClan was the first thing every kit learned. Worry crawled through her belly. She hadn’t realized how easy it was to forget the warrior code. Her Clanmates could be breaking it all the time without even realizing. She looked around at her Clanmates, expecting to see their pelts bristle too. How could they have forgotten something so simple? “We must thank StarClan.”