The Silent Thaw

Bramblestar backed away, unable to believe his eyes as he watched his body moving among his Clanmates. Something had gone terribly wrong. That’s not me! He had to let some cat know. His mind raced. Tree can speak to the dead! The idea struck him like lightning. Perhaps he can speak to me. Pelt spiking with fear, Bramblestar fled into the forest. I have to fix this!

Chapter 1

Keep running! Rootpaw didn’t dare look over his shoulder.

“Wait! You have to help me! Please!” Bramblestar’s plaintive wail echoed through the trees.

“Leave me alone!” Heart lurching, Rootpaw pushed his paws harder against the frozen forest floor. Why was the ThunderClan leader chasing him? What was Bramblestar doing on SkyClan land? And why did he look so much like a ghost?

Rootpaw’s thoughts spiraled as his paws thrummed over the earth. Bramblestar can’t be a ghost. He’s not dead! He’d lost a life to fever. But he was a Clan leader; he had come back. He was alive. Then why had Rootpaw been able to see the forest through Bramblestar’s shimmering pelt? Why hadn’t he smelled ThunderClan scent? Why had his paws made no sound on the hard earth?

Something sinewy snagged Rootpaw’s leg. It jerked from under him and he rolled, snatching it free as he thumped onto his side. The shock of his fall jolted him from his panic. Lying still for a moment, Rootpaw let his breath steady before scrambling to his paws. Pain flashed through the paw the root had caught. He glanced back the way he’d run. Something moved in the distance. Bramblestar? He stiffened, his belly tightening, then relaxed as he realized it was just bracken trembling in the breeze. He lifted his snagged paw, moving it gingerly. The pain softened and faded and he put his weight on it, relieved to find that it was okay.

He looked again for Bramblestar. The forest was deserted. He shook out his pelt. Did I imagine it? He’d been so sure he’d seen the ghostly ThunderClan leader. His breath caught in his throat. Perhaps Bramblestar had died again. Rootpaw shivered. Perhaps the fever that had killed him once had returned and killed him again. But why would I see his ghost? Dread crawled Rootpaw’s belly. Am I like Tree? His father had always been able to see dead cats. Was it possible Rootpaw had inherited the skill?

Rootpaw shuddered. He didn’t want to be strange like Tree. It was bad enough being Tree’s son and having his Clanmates treat him like the kit of a five-legged squirrel. He just wanted to be like his denmates—a normal warrior, with normal warrior kin. He lifted his chin, irritated. He would go back to the clearing. If it had been the real Bramblestar, he might still be there. He could explain why he’d come. And if it turned out Rootpaw had imagined seeing the ThunderClan leader, he’d see that there was nothing to be scared of. The wind might have made the shadows shiver so they seemed like a tabby pelt.

Squaring his shoulders, Rootpaw marched back to the clearing. As he neared the tiny glade, he fluffed his fur against the cold, puffing out his chest as he padded down the slope and stopped in the middle. He looked around, pricking his ears, but saw no sign of Bramblestar, neither the warrior nor the ghost. There was no scent lingering in the air. Shadows rippled over the ground. Rootpaw shook his head. He had not seen Bramblestar’s ghost. He’d imagined the whole thing.

He glanced at the sky, realizing that the sun had lifted high above the trees. His heart quickened. He was late. Dewspring would be expecting him for training. Rootpaw broke into a run and hared between the trees, heading back to camp.

“I’m glad you decided to turn up.” Dewspring was waiting for him outside the fern entrance. He flicked his tail irritably as Rootpaw scrambled down the slope toward him.

“Sorry!” Rootpaw puffed.

“We’re supposed to be stalking prey.” Dewspring stared at him.

“We still can,” Rootpaw mewed apologetically.

Dewspring huffed. “A warrior arrives on time.”

“I got distracted.” Rootpaw glanced at his paws. It was a lame excuse, but how could he tell his mentor that he thought he’d seen a ghost of a cat who wasn’t even dead? Besides, he didn’t want Dewspring to think he was as strange as Tree.

Dewspring whisked his tail. “Don’t let it happen again,” he mewed. “You’ve still got a lot to learn. If you want to become a warrior before greenleaf, we don’t have time to waste.”

As Rootpaw dipped his head, the frost-browned ferns rustled and Hawkwing pushed his way out of camp. Plumwillow and Nettlesplash followed at his heels.

“Hi, Dewspring.” The SkyClan deputy paused beside the gray tom. He glanced at Rootpaw. “How’s your apprentice doing?”