Lost Stars

Yowls of consternation came from the nearby cats. Bristlefrost let out a gasp of dismay and raced up to Bramblestar’s side. Squirrelflight was already checking on him.

“He’s breathing,” she meowed, her green eyes wide with fear. “But I can’t wake him.”

“What do you want us to do?” Bristlefrost asked.

Squirrelflight was clearly making a massive effort to pull herself together. “We have to get him back to the medicine cats’ den,” she replied. “Jayfeather and Alderheart will know what he needs.”

Bristlefrost looked helplessly around her. Some of the warriors were spread out, absorbed in their search for prey, still unaware of what had happened, while others clustered around, gazing in horror at their fallen leader.

“What about the hunt?” Bristlefrost asked. “Bramblestar told us not to go back to camp until we’d caught something.”

“He’s in no position to give orders right now,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “I’ll stay behind and finish the hunt with the rest of the patrol. Bramblestar will need something to eat if he’s to recover from this . . . whatever it is,” she added, a slight tremor in her voice. “Will you and Stemleaf take him back to camp?”

For a moment, Bristlefrost tensed. She hadn’t been alone with Stemleaf since that dreadful day she had told him how she felt about him. But she refused to think about that. Their Clan leader needed help; she and Stemleaf had to give it to him.

While Squirrelflight gathered the remaining warriors together, Stemleaf crouched down in the snow beside Bramblestar, and Bristlefrost pushed their leader onto his back. He was so deeply unconscious that he didn’t react at all to being moved.

“Uh . . . he’s a heavy cat!” Stemleaf gasped as he staggered to his paws. “And he’s cold. It feels like I’m carrying a load of snow.”

With Bristlefrost walking alongside and steadying Bramblestar on Stemleaf’s back, they slowly made their way through the forest. Bramblestar lay limp, his paws dangling; only the slight movement of his whiskers told Bristlefrost that he was still breathing.

When they reached the stone hollow, Thornclaw, who was on watch, took one look at them and raced across the camp to the medicine cats’ den. A few moments later he emerged from behind the bramble screen, with Alderheart just behind him.

“What happened?” Alderheart asked, hurrying up to Bramblestar’s side.

While Stemleaf carried Bramblestar into the den, Bristlefrost explained how Bramblestar had seemed to lose his focus in the hunt, and then had collapsed and not moved or spoken since.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Alderheart murmured.

Bristlefrost felt a jolt of fear at her heart. She had assumed that once Bramblestar reached the medicine cats, they would know what to do. Instead Alderheart was gazing at him with all the confusion and worry that she felt. Of course—Bramblestar wasn’t only Alderheart’s Clan leader; he was his father too.

At Alderheart’s direction, she pulled together moss and bracken from the store in the den to make a nest for Bramblestar. Stemleaf lowered him gently into it.

“He’s so cold,” Alderheart mewed, stretching out a paw to touch Bramblestar’s forehead. “I just don’t understand. He was fine when he left for the hunt. How did he get sick so quickly?”

Neither Bristlefrost nor Stemleaf could answer that question.

“Is he losing a life?” Bristlefrost asked.

Alderheart shook his head. “No, not yet. But if we can’t give him the right treatment soon, he will.”

Leaving his father’s side, Alderheart padded to the back of the den where the medicine cats kept their herbs. Bristlefrost lingered, watching him curiously; he was sorting through the various heaps, but he didn’t seem to know what he was looking for.

As she watched, the bramble screen at the entrance to the den was brushed back, and Jayfeather appeared. He halted, sniffing, then asked, “Bramblestar’s here? What’s happening?”

Alderheart came forward again and explained to Jayfeather what Bristlefrost had told him. “Bramblestar needs treatment,” he finished. “But I’m not sure what to do for him.”

“I’ll examine him,” Jayfeather began, then broke off and swung around so that he was facing Bristlefrost; she found it hard to believe that he couldn’t see her.

“What are you doing, hanging about here like a spare piece of prey?” he demanded. “Out. Now.”

“Okay.” Bristlefrost turned to go, hearing Jayfeather ask if Alderheart had given Bramblestar anything.

“No, I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Alderheart replied.

As he spoke, Bristlefrost heard a sudden rustling, and a weak voice calling, “Alderheart?”

Bristlefrost spun around to see Bramblestar struggling to sit up, his amber eyes wide and intense. Alderheart sprang to his side, supporting his father against his shoulder.

“Alderheart . . . I must talk to you.” Bramblestar’s voice was weak, his words separated by desperate gasps, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.

“No, you have to rest,” Alderheart mewed. “You’re here in my den; we’ll take care of you.”