Lost Stars

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!”

Chapter 23

Puddleshine was already up, busily sorting herbs, but Shadowpaw still lay in his nest as dawn light grew in the ShadowClan camp. He glanced up listlessly as Snowbird appeared; a thorn in her bedding had scratched her nose.

“I’ll fetch you some herbs,” he mewed, beginning to force himself to his paws.

“Oh . . . no, it’s okay,” Snowbird stammered. “Thanks anyway, but I see that Puddleshine has already got some horsetail over there.”

Shadowpaw let out a grunt and flopped back into his nest. Snowbird gave Shadowpaw a wary look as she passed him, and she seemed happy to deal with Puddleshine as he treated her and then sent her back to her warrior duties.

A trickle of cats followed Snowbird as the morning light strengthened, all of them with minor problems, and all of them reluctant to even look at Shadowpaw. Snaketooth actually let out a faint hiss, pointedly turning away. Like I care, Shadowpaw thought, watching morosely with his nose on his paws.

They’re afraid of me, he realized. And they have good reason to be. I killed Bramblestar, at the bidding of . . . who? Or what?