Veil Of Shadows

The hope that Rootpaw had begun to feel faded abruptly at his leader’s decision. But it’s true, what she says, he admitted to himself. It must be really tough for a leader to lead her cats to their death.

“Then what are we going to do?” Sparrowpelt asked.

“No matter what, there is one thing SkyClan will always do,” Leafstar replied. “We will protect one another.”

The decisiveness in Leafstar’s voice made Rootpaw think that the meeting must be over, until Violetshine rose to her paws. “Of course you are right,” she began, dipping her head toward Leafstar. “But if Bramblestar is violent toward other cats, especially those in his own Clan—cats he is supposed to care for—then he must be stopped.” Her voice shook a little as she added, “I learned about that from Darktail.”

Rootpaw stared at his mother. She must feel very strongly to mention Darktail. Normally she never talks about that part of her life.

Leafstar met Violetshine’s gaze thoughtfully. “That’s true,” she meowed at last. “So it’s decided. We will protect one another. And we will keep our eyes and ears on Bramblestar, and do our best to prevent him from hurting any other cat.”

The Clan leader half turned away, perhaps to go back to her den, then swung around to face her Clan again. “There’s one more thing,” she added, beckoning with her tail to the two medicine cats. “Frecklewish, you said that Rootpaw’s and Tree’s ghost-seeing is as true as medicine-cat visions. So it seems obvious to me we should be asking ourselves: Should Rootpaw be apprenticed to you to become a medicine cat?”

Rootpaw let out a gasp, too shocked by the suggestion to comment on it. Frecklewish was shaking her head uncertainly. “I’ve never heard of a medicine cat with his abilities. . . .”

“That doesn’t mean there can’t be one,” Leafstar told her briskly.

“Of course we could always use another medicine cat,” Frecklewish responded. She gave Rootpaw a look from narrowed eyes, as if he were an unknown herb that might be good for healing or might turn out to be poisonous. “But I can’t say Rootpaw has ever shown much interest in the job.”

At last Leafstar turned to Rootpaw. “What do you think, Rootpaw?” she asked. “Would you be willing to try?”

Rootpaw realized he was gaping at his Clan leader. “I—I’m not sure,” he stammered. “I’d rather be a warrior, but if I’m needed as a medicine cat, I’ll serve my Clan the best way I can.”

Maybe this is a good thing, he tried to tell himself. At least being a medicine cat is a sort of okay way to be weird!

Leafstar turned back to her Clan and raised her voice once again. “Then it is decided. Rootpaw will become a medicine-cat apprentice,” she announced.

At her words, Rootpaw’s belly felt like it had fallen out past his paws and down into the earth. An image of Bristlefrost flashed into his mind, her sleek gray fur and graceful movements, and he suddenly remembered the drawbacks of what he had just promised to do.

My apprenticeship will last even longer, and I’ll be further behind Needleclaw. And maybe even worse—I’ll never be able to take a mate. . . .

Chapter 4

Bristlefrost plodded through the mud, following Bramblestar and Whitewing through the thorn tunnel and back into the ThunderClan camp. Bramblestar didn’t bother to dismiss them; without a word he headed across the camp and up the tumbled rocks to his den on the Highledge.

Whitewing exchanged a friendly glance with Bristlefrost. “You’d better go and help yourself to fresh-kill,” she suggested. “You deserve it after that.”

Bristlefrost nodded in gratitude. She felt every muscle in her body relax at the relief of getting out of the rain and away from Bramblestar for a while. Ever since he had exiled Lionblaze and Jayfeather the day before, he had been poking his nose into the business of every cat in the Clan: not just keeping a paw on their welfare, as a Clan leader should, but popping up inside their dens or listening in on conversations, looking for excuses to send more warriors away.

Meanwhile, Bramblestar had spent a lot of that time with Bristlefrost, but the attention he paid her seemed different. It was like she was exempt from his suspicion. He treated her like a cat he could trust to do as she was told. Now that he had gone for a rest, Bristlefrost felt as if she had escaped from a fox’s den. She spotted Stemleaf and Spotfur sharing tongues under a tree beside the fresh-kill pile, and bounded over to join them.

“Thank StarClan that’s over!” she mewed with a gusty sigh as she flopped down beside them.