Veil Of Shadows

“We must try,” Mistystar interrupted. “These heavy newleaf rains have brought flooding and mudslides to RiverClan, and prey has not been running well. I need StarClan’s guidance, but StarClan has turned away from us. Perhaps Bramblestar is right; perhaps we have been too lax in following the warrior code, and that’s why StarClan is angry with us. I have no choice but to exile you.”

Mothwing rose to her paws. Bristlefrost was close enough to see the hurt in her eyes as she responded to her Clan leader. “I’ve been devoted to RiverClan ever since my mother brought me to you,” she pointed out. “My own mother decided to leave the Clan, but I chose to stay!”

“You don’t even follow StarClan,” some cat muttered from among the RiverClan cats.

Mothwing’s head whipped around in the direction of the voice. “That doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “I’ve proven my loyalty to my Clan many times over.” She gazed up at Mistystar, not pleading any longer, but Bristlefrost could see how much she loved her Clan, and how crushed she was at the thought of exile.

“I’m sorry,” Mistystar repeated. “Perhaps when all this is over, you will be able to return.”

Mothwing’s chest heaved in a deep sigh, and she bowed her head to her leader without any more protest. Then she turned and headed out of the clearing, following in Crowfeather’s paw steps.

All around Bristlefrost the assembly broke up into small groups of cats, arguing whether it was right to exile the codebreakers. Dread swelled in her belly as she listened to the furious yowls and snarling.

This isn’t a war between Clans, she realized. It could be even worse.

Each Clan seemed to be splintering into different factions, allying themselves with cats from other Clans, even if all they had in common was their feelings about the codebreakers. Bristlefrost could see the strength of five united Clans slipping away like water soaking into dry ground.

She noticed that Bramblestar had leaped down from the Great Oak and was circling the camp, listening to the chaos he had unleashed. Now and again he would speak up to defend Mistystar or Harestar against their own warriors.

In the confusion, Bristlefrost noticed Stemleaf creeping away, following Mothwing and Crowfeather. A spark of hope lit inside her that he would be able to find them and tell them that Tigerstar had offered refuge to the exiles in ShadowClan.

I just hope he doesn’t get caught. . . .

Chapter 5

Rootpaw scrabbled uncertainly at the pile of dried leaves lying in front of him on the floor of the medicine-cat den. “Comfrey?” he guessed.

Fidgetflake rolled his eyes. “It’s tansy, for StarClan’s sake! Can’t you smell the difference?”

Rootpaw nodded obligingly, but inwardly he was thinking that all these dried herbs smelled the same—dry and dusty. Suppressing a sigh, he reminded himself that being a medicine cat was a very important job. His Clan needed him, and he liked the way that every cat treated him with respect. But at the same time, he couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that it would be a lot more fun to be out hunting on such a sunny day.

I want to do what’s right for my Clan, but maybe I didn’t think this whole medicine-cat thing through. This . . . isn’t how I imagined my life would be.

Frecklewish turned from the back of the den where she had been sorting a pile of freshly gathered herbs. “While it’s quiet, we should take advantage of the sunshine,” she meowed, “and spread these herbs out to dry. It could start raining again at any time.”

At once Rootpaw sprang to his paws. “Sure, I’ll help,” he offered, pleased at the chance to get out of the medicine cats’ den.

“Not you, Rootpaw.” Frecklewish ordered him back with a wave of her tail. “You need to keep memorizing those herbs!”

While she and Fidgetflake began transporting the fresh herbs out into the sunlight, Rootpaw headed for the niches at the back of the den where the dried supplies were kept. He tried to remember what the medicine cats had taught him about how to identify each herb, what it was used for, and where it was stored.

He sniffed doubtfully at the dried leaves in the first niche. Marigold, maybe?

At the same moment, Rootpaw heard stumbling paw steps as some cat entered the den. Turning, he saw Rabbitleap, and froze at the sight of his Clanmate’s chest and muzzle covered with blood.

Rabbitleap’s voice was surprisingly calm as he began, “Rootpaw, I need you to—”

Rootpaw didn’t hear anything else as panic swept over him. I need to take care of him, but what am I supposed to do? “Frecklewish! Fidgetflake!” he yowled. “Help!”