Veil Of Shadows

Spiresight shook his head. “I chose not to go to StarClan, so that I could watch over you,” he explained. “I haven’t been around all the time, but I’ve checked on you regularly since I died. And I’m very proud of the cat you have become.”

Shadowsight blinked, bewildered by everything he had to take in, but happy to be with the cat who had done so much for him and his kin. “I never saw you,” he mewed. “How is it that I’m talking to you now?”

The black tom hesitated for a heartbeat before he replied. “Three nights ago, I saw a cat attack you, and when you were unconscious, he threw you into this ravine.”

Horror coursed through Shadowsight, and he felt every hair on his pelt rise. Now he remembered the slash of sharp, curved claws and realized that his whole body should be throbbing with pain. But I can’t feel anything. “Am I dead?” he asked. “Where am I?”

“You’re not dead,” Spiresight replied. “At first I was afraid you were, but then I realized that you were still breathing—just. But you must have been seriously injured, because until now I couldn’t communicate with you at all—not even with your spirit.”

Shadowsight took in a shaky breath. “Spirit?” he whispered. “Am I a ghost?”

Spiresight had just told him that he wasn’t dead, but Shadowsight wasn’t sure he could believe him. Maybe I am, and I’ll never see my kin again! Then he realized that if he was dead, he should be in StarClan, but this place was completely unfamiliar to him. For a moment he felt so confused that he just wanted to close his eyes again and forget everything.

Instead Shadowsight took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up. Looking around, he saw that the mist had dissipated and the ravine was gradually coming into focus around him. He and Spiresight were sitting on a flat rock jutting out of the steep wall, about halfway down. The narrow gully seemed to be about fifteen or twenty tail-lengths high, with a small stream running along the bottom. Outcrops of rock poked out from the thin, sandy soil, with thick bushes rooted among them. Shadowsight didn’t recognize the place; he was sure it wasn’t on ShadowClan territory.

I don’t suppose many cats come here, he thought. Scrambling among these rocks would be really hard.

“I wanted to get help for you,” Spiresight went on, “but I didn’t want to leave you in case you woke up.”

Shadowsight blinked affectionately at his old friend. “You were always a loyal cat,” he murmured. “It makes sense that you would be a loyal ghost.”

Spiresight ducked his head, embarrassment in his yellow eyes. “You must have begun to heal from your injuries,” he meowed, “if I’m able to speak with you now. But you’re still in great danger. You’re hovering between life and death.”

Angling his ears, he gestured to Shadowsight to turn and look into the ravine in the other direction. Shadowsight took in a rasping breath as he spotted his own body lying sprawled beside a twisted thorn tree a couple of tail-lengths farther down. He couldn’t believe how battered he looked, his fur torn and matted and a dried trickle of blood spilling from his forehead and over his muzzle. At first he thought that he must be dead after all, until he spotted the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“I’m between life and death?” he asked, echoing Spiresight’s words. He remembered that after Leafpool’s death Jayfeather had said something similar to the medicine cats, how Squirrelflight and Leafpool had been between two worlds. Jayfeather explained that Squirrelflight had come back, while Leafpool had moved on to StarClan, but Shadowsight had found it hard to imagine.

“Thank you for what you’ve done,” he told Spiresight, not waiting for an answer. “But we need to tell a medicine cat about me. I need real treatment!”

Spiresight gave him a doubtful look. “I thought of that,” he responded, “but I didn’t know which cats I could trust . . . it must have been a Clan cat who did this to you.”

“Really?” Shadowsight didn’t want to believe what his friend had told him, but at the same time a terrible certainty washed over him, icy as a river in leaf-bare. Once more the brief memory of the attack flashed into his mind, this time bringing with it a strong scent of catmint.

The attacker masked his scent with herbs. Only a Clan cat would bother to do that.

“I’m sure of it,” Spiresight assured him, his voice heavy with the knowledge. “I was so shocked, and so worried about you, and in the darkness I didn’t get a good look at the cat. I only detected a Clan scent, mingled with catmint. We need to find out who attacked you, and it will be easier for you to do that as a ghost.”