The Silent Thaw

“Grab it!” Bramblestar’s faint mew echoed in the moonlight. Eyes stinging, heart pounding, Rootpaw thrust a foreleg above the surface, reaching for the apparition. His paw swished through the ghostly silhouette. He can’t touch me! The hope that had flashed for a moment in Rootpaw’s heart flickered out. With a wail he sank beneath the rippling water.

He struck out again, not for the surface this time, but forward. If he could push himself to the bank, he’d find the shallows. Lungs screaming for air, he thrashed the water, kicking out with every leg, hope rising again as he moved beneath the surface. His forepaw struck something hard. The lakebed. It was rising to meet the shore. He dug his claws into the sandy earth and hauled himself toward it until he felt solid ground beneath every paw, and felt the fresh night air bathe his head. Pulling himself forward, he gulped a desperate breath and staggered from the lake, trembling with terror and the cold. Teeth chattering, he shook out his pelt.

“Rootpaw!” Needlepaw dashed across the tree-bridge and landed on the shore behind him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The Gathering must have ended, because the cats were leaving the island, pouring along the long grass and filing across the bridge. As he struggled to calm himself, his Clanmates streamed around him.

“How did you fall into the lake again?” Kitescratch stared at him, his whiskers trembling with amusement.

Needlepaw turned on the brown tom. “He could have drowned!”

Violetshine wove around Rootpaw. He could feel her pelt prickling with fear. “What happened?” she mewed.

“I slipped on the frozen bark,” Rootpaw told her, rubbing water from his eyes with his paw.

Dewspring reached him. His mentor gazed at him sternly. “You shouldn’t have run out of the Gathering like that. How does it look to the other Clans if one of our apprentices hares away for no reason?”

“Leave him alone!” Violetshine glared at Dewspring. “He could have drowned.”

“Don’t be mouse-brained,” Dewspring snapped back. “There are only a few tail-lengths of water between the island and the shore. Even a mouse could have swum it.” His gaze flitted back to Rootpaw. “Why did you run away?”

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.