Lost Stars

Before the two ShadowClan cats reached the thorn tunnel, Squirrelflight suddenly stepped forward; Bristlefrost saw remorse in the Clan deputy’s face. “Wait . . . ,” she called out to the cats’ retreating tails, her voice weak and uncertain.

Tigerstar checked for an instant, then continued without looking back. Both he and Shadowpaw disappeared into the tunnel.

When they were gone, Squirrelflight heaved a deep sigh, and turned a glare on Jayfeather from narrowed green eyes. Though Jayfeather couldn’t see the glare, he certainly seemed to feel it; he shrugged his shoulders uneasily. “We all know what Tigerstar has been like in the past,” he mumbled.

Bristlefrost could feel her pelt tingling from the tension in the camp, as if ants were crawling through her fur. She couldn’t believe that such a short time ago she’d been sharing prey with her Clanmates and feeling optimistic.

“Maybe Shadowpaw’s idea has some merit,” Alderheart meowed. His voice was calm, and he was clearly trying to smooth things over.

“What?” Jayfeather spat. “You must have a whole nest of bees in your brain if you want to do what that delusional little flea-pelt told you!”

“Keep your fur on, Jayfeather,” Alderheart told him, resting his tail for a moment on the older medicine cat’s shoulder. “That’s not what I mean at all. But don’t you remember how I once saved Puddleshine from a terrible Twoleg infection by feeding him the flesh of deathberries? At first, it seemed like they would kill him, and he got worse before he got better—just like Shadowpaw said would be the answer to Bramblestar’s illness.”

His words were met with silence. Every cat in the Clan was staring at Alderheart. Bristlefrost struggled with a surge of fear. Bramblestar will die if Alderheart leaves him in the snow.

The silence dragged out until Alderheart lashed his tail in frustration. “We have to do something to save my father!” he blurted out.

“But we don’t have to do this,” Jayfeather retorted. “It’s absurd. We may have known Tigerstar for a long time, but don’t forget that before he became Clan leader, he abandoned his Clan and his role as deputy.”

“He came back,” Squirrelflight pointed out.

“Okay, he came back,” Jayfeather meowed. “And then he caused more problems when we were trying to adjust the territories to make a home for SkyClan. And that’s what worries me: Tigerstar seems to be a cat who changes his mind and his mood very quickly. We can never be sure what Tigerstar’s true motives are—except that he thinks of ShadowClan above all else.”

“You think he told Shadowpaw what to say?” Ivypool asked. “To attack ThunderClan by killing our leader?”

No cat could be that evil! Bristlefrost thought, horrified.

Jayfeather shook his head. “No, I believe Shadowpaw means well. He truly thinks he is helping. But in my opinion, none of his visions have ever sounded as if they come from StarClan.”

“But when has StarClan ever been predictable?” Alderheart demanded, his tone growing heated. “Maybe StarClan has changed their way of reaching us, and will only communicate through Shadowpaw. Maybe, like so many of StarClan’s actions, the reason will only become clear with time. And Bramblestar is dying. None of our usual herbs are working! With StarClan cutting us off, mustn’t we—now more than ever—do all we can to keep him alive?”

Squirrelflight stepped forward to Alderheart’s side. Bristlefrost could see sorrow in her eyes, and knew she was on the brink of making what must be the hardest decision of her life.

“I’m sorry, Alderheart,” she mewed at last. “I can’t allow this.”

For a moment Bristlefrost thought that Alderheart would protest. Then he lowered his head, saying nothing. Squirrelflight gazed at him for a moment more before padding off to the warriors’ den.

“Squirrelflight, you should eat something,” Ivypool called after her, but Squirrelflight didn’t look back.

An awkward silence fell over the camp, as if no cat had any idea what to say. One or two of the warriors began to drift away toward their den, only to halt as Jayfeather spoke.

“I have an idea,” he told Alderheart. “If we could get some borage, we might be able to rouse Bramblestar.”

Hope and confusion warred in Alderheart’s eyes. “Why borage?” he asked. “We use it to reduce fever. That’s hardly necessary right now.”

“It might sound odd,” Jayfeather agreed, “but Shadowpaw was right about one thing. The longer Bramblestar stays in our den, the more chance there is of his temperature dropping so quickly that he might never recover. But if we gave him something to make him colder . . . Would that spur him on to get better, the way Shadowpaw suggested? The way the deathberries seemed to trick Puddleshine into getting better.” When Alderheart didn’t reply, he added, “It’s got to be worth trying, right?”