Veil Of Shadows

“What happened in SkyClan?” Spotfur asked, while Stemleaf snagged a vole from the pile and pushed it over to Bristlefrost.

Bristlefrost took a hungry bite and mumbled her reply through a mouthful of delicious vole. “I’m not sure.” After swallowing, she went on. “Leafstar didn’t seem convinced by Bramblestar urging her to exile more cats.”

“Good for her,” Spotfur commented.

“But it doesn’t help much,” Stemleaf reminded his mate. Under his breath he added, “There’s still no sign of Shadowsight. Could Bramblestar have killed him?”

“No cat has found his body, or any blood,” Spotfur pointed out, while Bristlefrost shivered at having her worst fear put into words. “If Shadowsight was dead, there would be some evidence of it, surely?”

Stemleaf shook his head slowly. “It could have been covered up. Or maybe he’s being kept prisoner somewhere.”

“One thing I’m certain of,” Bristlefrost meowed. “Bramblestar is wrong when he says that Shadowsight ran off.”

“He would never do that,” Spotfur agreed. “He—”

She broke off as Stemleaf stretched out his tail to touch her shoulder, giving her a warning glance. Bristlefrost glanced around to see Stemleaf’s father, Thornclaw, bounding over to join them.

Has Stemleaf told Thornclaw what we suspect about Bramblestar? she wondered. No, he can’t have, or he wouldn’t have hushed Spotfur.

Bristlefrost’s muscles tensed briefly as she reflected on how many ThunderClan cats knew nothing about the false Bramblestar. She and the other rebels didn’t know which cats they could trust. Seeing Stemleaf so tense around his own father, she was reminded how easily the Clan could be divided if they revealed their suspicions too early, without proof. ThunderClan could be torn apart, she thought with a shiver. We must all tread very carefully.

“Greetings,” Thornclaw meowed cheerfully as he sat beside them and chose a mouse from the fresh-kill pile. “The prey was running well today, despite the weather,” he continued. “I’m sure now that newleaf is here, things will start to get better.”

“I hope so,” Stemleaf commented, though Bristlefrost thought he looked dubious. “Might be nice to see the sun again, though.”

“Are you worried that StarClan is sending this terrible weather, too?” Thornclaw tore off a mouthful of mouse and swallowed it. “I gather you’re not alone, but don’t read too much into it. I admit I don’t always understand StarClan, but they’ll explain themselves sooner or later, you can count on it.”

“But do they really want us to exile our own Clanmates?” Bristlefrost asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wondered if she had been too daring. What if Thornclaw reports what I said to Bramblestar?

But Thornclaw didn’t seem at all worried about her question. “You’re young, and of course you worry about these sorts of decisions,” he purred. “But after what I experienced in the Dark Forest—well, I’m willing to do what’s necessary, and now I’m sure things will settle down. StarClan will be back soon, you’ll see.”

Bristlefrost narrowly avoided rolling her eyes, while Stemleaf and Spotfur exchanged another uneasy glance.

“I’m sure you’re right, Thornclaw,” Stemleaf meowed.

Quickly finishing her vole, Bristlefrost excused herself and bounded back to the warriors’ den. Outside, she spotted her brother, Flipclaw, who was balancing precariously halfway up the outer wall; water dripped from his nose as he wove a bramble tendril into a gap that had opened up in the high winds the night before.

“Hi!” Bristlefrost called up to him, pleased to see a familiar and friendly face. “That’s a great job you’re doing.”

Flipclaw glanced down at her, and the look in his eyes wasn’t friendly at all. “You wouldn’t know a great job if it sat up and bit you,” he mewed coldly. “Or you wouldn’t have been so eager to turn your back on Jayfeather and Lionblaze, after all they’ve done for the Clan.”

The barbed comment shocked Bristlefrost so much that for a few heartbeats she couldn’t find words to reply. Her brother leaped down from the den wall and stalked past her before she recovered. Bristlefrost gazed sadly after him.

I should have told him what I did for the exiles, she thought. But he didn’t give me the chance.

She wanted to curl up in her nest and sleep, forgetting all her problems for a while, but as she was padding up to the entrance of the den, she spotted Finleap. The brown tom was crouching with hunched shoulders underneath an elder bush that grew in a crack in the den wall below the Highledge, avoiding the rain. He looked so unhappy that Bristlefrost felt sorry for him, and she trotted over to sit beside him.

“Twigbranch will be okay,” she murmured in an attempt to comfort him.