Veil Of Shadows

Curling up that night in his nest in the apprentices’ den, Rootpaw felt better than he had in a long time. Even though he could hear the wind howling outside, and his worries about Bramblestar still nagged at the back of his mind, all he could really think about was his assessment and how he had to make sure he did his best.

When at last he went to sleep, he fell instantly into a dream where he and Dewspring were in the middle of the forest. Dewspring was calling out battle moves for him. “Backward leap! Strike with forepaws! Underbelly dive!” Rootpaw performed them all perfectly.

But then Dewspring began yowling at Rootpaw to wake up. Rootpaw couldn’t understand him, because he was awake already. He was staring right at Dewspring.

“I don’t understand,” he meowed. “Is this another sort of test?”

But Dewspring didn’t explain. He just kept on calling Rootpaw’s name as he drew closer, and his gray pelt began to give off a silver glow. As Rootpaw gaped in astonishment, the light grew brighter and brighter until it was so dazzling that it blinded him. He let out a choking cry of terror and found himself startling awake in his den.

His chest heaving from the memory of the dream, Rootpaw needed a few heartbeats to be sure he wasn’t still in the woods. Wrenpaw was curled up asleep close by, and above his head Rootpaw could make out the arching ferns that formed the roof of the den. The wind had calmed, and dawn was creeping into the sky, but Rootpaw realized that wasn’t the only light. A warm glow was coming from behind him, casting his shadow forward. He turned around and saw that something was standing there.

No, not something . . . Some cat.

As the glow began to fade, Rootpaw was able to make out the cat’s features. He was a small, skinny tom with sleek black fur and intense yellow eyes. Rootpaw had the strange sense he had glimpsed him before, and he was sure of one thing. This cat is dead.

“Who are you?” Rootpaw asked.

“There’s no time to explain,” the ghost cat responded. “You have to come with me—now.”

“What?” Rootpaw yowled so loud that he was afraid he had woken Wrenpaw, but the younger apprentice never stirred. “I can’t! I have my warrior assessment at sunrise. I can’t miss it for anything.”

The ghost cat was already heading toward the mouth of the den. Glancing back over his shoulder to look at Rootpaw, he asked, “Not even to save your friend’s life?”

His words brought Rootpaw upright, out of the den, and across the camp into the forest, as if he were being pulled along by an invisible tendril. I have no idea who this is, he thought, but could he be talking about Shadowsight? Is it possible that Shadowsight is still alive?

The dawn light was strengthening as the ghost cat led Rootpaw to the border with ThunderClan, and straight across it, ignoring the scent markers. Gulping nervously, Rootpaw followed.

I really hope we don’t meet the ThunderClan dawn patrol.

When he sniffed the air, all the ThunderClan scents were stale, but Rootpaw still kept his senses alert as he padded through the rival Clan’s territory, ready to leap up into the nearest tree if he caught even the faintest trace of an approaching ThunderClan cat.

Is this ghost really leading me to Shadowsight? Rootpaw asked himself. And is the ghost cat right, that his life is in danger? He had never heard of any cat daring to miss their warrior assessment. Oh, I hope it’s true, or I’ll be in so much trouble, and all for nothing!

Eventually the sun came up, casting long golden rays across the forest floor. Rootpaw felt a tightening in his chest, knowing that at that very moment Dewspring would be heading to his den to tell him it was time. But he’ll find my nest empty. Rootpaw’s only hope was that when he returned to camp and explained what happened, Dewspring would forgive him and give him another chance.

“Is it much farther?” Rootpaw called to the cat in front of him. His paws were beginning to ache.

“No, we’re almost there,” the spirit replied, not turning to look at him.

A few heartbeats later, Rootpaw began to pick up the scent of something bad, like prey that had been left out too long in the sun. “What’s that?” he muttered to himself, wrinkling his nose.

At the same moment, the ghost cat halted at the edge of a narrow ravine. Rootpaw padded up to join him and immediately spotted why he had been brought there. His belly clenched as he saw Shadowsight’s body, sprawled out beside a thornbush near the bank of the small stream that ran along the bottom of the ravine.