Эрин Хантер - Lost Stars

The assembled cats parted as Bristlefrost and her Clanmates paced forward and laid Bramblestar’s body down at the paws of the elders. With her task finished, Bristlefrost wasn’t sure what to do. Glancing around, she spotted her mother and father, Ivypool and Fernsong, watching with sorrowful expressions, and ran over to them with a low cry of relief.

Fernsong nuzzled her close. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Bristlefrost leaned into her father’s familiar embrace, thinking how lucky she was to have two parents who loved her. I should have remembered that when I was heartbroken over Stemleaf.

“I will be,” she replied to Fernsong. “But what happens to ThunderClan now?”

No cat could answer her question.

“I remember how much Bramblestar taught me when I was a kit and an apprentice,” Lionblaze meowed. “I believed he was my father then.” His voice caught in his throat, and it was a moment before he could go on. “He was the best father a cat could have.”

Darkness had fallen, and all the cats of ThunderClan had gathered to sit vigil for their dead leader. Alderheart sat closest, smoothing his father’s fur with one paw. Sparkpelt was beside him, and Squirrelflight on their leader’s other side, her head bowed. Lionblaze and Jayfeather sat nearby. Bristlefrost crouched in the circle of cats who surrounded them, listening to the tributes his Clanmates offered to Bramblestar.

“I remember when we made the journey to the sun-drown-place.” Squirrelflight’s voice was low, but clear enough to reach the ears of every cat. “Bramblestar—he was Brambleclaw then—was our leader. He was so brave and sensible. Without him we would never have made it there, much less survived to return to our Clans and give them Midnight’s message.”

A shiver passed through Bristlefrost as she heard Squirrelflight speak of that long-ago journey, the story Ivypool had told her when she was a kit in the nursery. Squirrelflight was actually there, she realized, and she and Bramblestar helped to bring the Clans to our home beside the lake.

“Don’t forget the Great Storm,” Graystripe put in. “Bramblestar was a new leader then, but he kept our Clan safe until we could return to our home here in the stone hollow.”

“And he guided us through the struggle with Darktail,” Alderheart added. “When the other Clans drew away, or gave in to evil, ThunderClan never did. And that was because of Bramblestar.” He bowed his head and his next words were choked out. “He was my father and I loved him.”

Sparkpelt pressed herself closer to her brother’s side. “We all loved him. Every cat in the Clan. And he was worthy of it.”

A desolate silence fell, broken after a few heartbeats by Jayfeather, who rose to his paws from where he sat near Bramblestar’s head. “Bramblestar was—” he began, then broke off, shaking his head helplessly as if the words wouldn’t come.

A moment later he rounded on Squirrelflight, his shoulder fur bristling and his neck stretched out. “Why did you let Shadowpaw kill him?” he hissed. “Where is ThunderClan now? We have no leader, and without a leader we have no future. Did you learn nothing from your time in StarClan?”

A murmur of protest arose from the surrounding cats at Jayfeather’s harshness toward a cat who was grieving. Bristlefrost didn’t understand how he could be so hostile to a cat he had once thought was his mother.

Bristlefrost could see the hurt in Squirrelflight’s eyes, but the deputy remained calm, raising her head to confront the angry medicine cat. “My time in StarClan is no cat’s business but my own,” she snapped. “And we weren’t much better off when Bramblestar was so ill. I believed he was going to die. I had to make a choice, and I made it. And I will continue to do so as acting leader of this Clan.”

“ Acting leader?” Jayfeather sneered. “What good will that—”

“I believe that when this leaf-bare ends, we will hear from StarClan again,” Squirrelflight interrupted. “And they will tell us what to do to make all this right.”

Jayfeather looked as though he might say more, then closed his mouth with a snap and sat down again. Bristlefrost tried to find hope in Squirrelflight’s words, but all she could see was a bleak future.

Bramblestar will still be dead. . . .

The vigil continued, with more cats offering their tributes to Bramblestar. Bristlefrost was one of the last cats to speak, wondering what she could contribute when she had known the Clan leader for such a short time.

“He made me a warrior,” she meowed at last. “It was the proudest day of my life. I will honor his memory by being the best warrior that I can be.”

Finally all the cats had spoken. A deep, reflective silence fell over the camp. Bristlefrost realized that she could make out her Clanmates’ faces more clearly; the sky was beginning to grow pale with the first light of dawn. A whole day had passed since they’d first learned that Bramblestar was dead.

The elders roused themselves, rising to stand around Bramblestar’s body, ready to carry him out of the stone hollow to the burial place. Jayfeather rose too, moving closer to Bramblestar’s head.

“May StarClan light your path, Bramblestar.” His voice was steady now, its anger gone. “May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.” Then he nodded to the elders. “It is time.”

The elders stooped to take up their burden, but before they could touch it, a faint ripple passed through Bramblestar’s body. Bristlefrost gasped, hardly able to believe what she had seen. I’m so tired. . . . I must be seeing things.

But around her, all her Clanmates were staring too. At first Bristlefrost could see they shared her disbelief; then, after a moment, they began to look at each other, a gleam of hope kindling in their eyes. “Did you see that?” some cat muttered.

“It . . . it could just be his body settling,” Alderheart stammered.

Another ripple, stronger this time, passed through Bramblestar. Bristlefrost crouched, frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Some cat whispered, “This can’t be . . .”

Bramblestar blinked and raised his head, his eyes vacant. After a moment he rolled onto his belly, and as he turned his head to gaze at his transfixed Clan, his eyes gradually focused. After a few more heartbeats, he rose slowly to his paws.

Every cat stared at him, stunned by what they were witnessing. Some of them backed away in alarm and confusion, while others took a wary step toward him, as if he were a predator who might lash out at them without warning.

“What’s happening?” Sparkpelt whispered.

After a moment Bramblestar stretched out his forepaws and arched his back in a long stretch, as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep. It wasn’t death, Bristlefrost realized. He looked healthier, too, not so emaciated, and his fur seemed to grow fuller, more sleek, as Bristlefrost watched.

Shadowpaw said he would get worse before he got better, she remembered. Is he finally getting better? Yet Bristlefrost was hardly able to believe what she was seeing. What happened to him? He looked like he was dead, for so long. . . .

Bramblestar padded across to Squirrelflight and dipped his head toward her. “Greetings,” he meowed. “It’s good to be with you again.”

Squirrelflight pressed herself against him and twined her tail with his. She was purring too hard to reply.

Bristlefrost exchanged a shocked, wondering glance with Ivypool. “He’s alive!” she exclaimed. “StarClan hasn’t forsaken us!”