Veil Of Shadows

His voice rang out clearly across the crowd of cats below, who responded with yowls and caterwauls of agreement. Bristlefrost noticed that only Tigerstar, the rebels, and a few other warriors were looking doubtful.

“Now I ask my fellow leaders,” Bramblestar continued, “whether I can count on their help in strictly following the code and serving StarClan in any way we can.”

Silence followed the impostor’s words for a few heartbeats. Then Mistystar dipped her head in agreement. “You have my support, Bramblestar, and the support of RiverClan,” she mewed. “You’re right that exiling the codebreakers has been painful at times.” Bristlefrost detected a flicker of guilt in her eyes. She must be thinking of Mothwing, she thought. “But RiverClan is still suffering as a result of these rains. I hope that doing as StarClan has commanded will bring back their favor.”

“I hope so, too,” Harestar added. “I have lost a prized warrior and deputy, but we still struggle to feed our Clan. I believe our suffering will be rewarded when StarClan appears to us again, ready to help us through our difficult times. I’ve always respected you, Bramblestar, and I’ll do as you say.”

Silence fell again, as if the remaining two leaders were unwilling to speak. Bramblestar turned his head and fixed Leafstar with a hard stare.

“SkyClan has always served StarClan, and has always followed the code,” she responded, meeting the impostor’s gaze confidently. “We will not stop now.”

With a curt nod, Bramblestar turned to Tigerstar, who crouched on his branch, fixing the ThunderClan leader with a menacing glare.

“ShadowClan follows the warrior code, and always will,” he snapped. “I don’t need you to watch over me.”

“ShadowClan follows the code?” Bramblestar sneered. “When you haven’t even exiled the codebreaker in your Clan? How can you—”

“Dovewing atoned!” Tigerstar interrupted, raising his voice to a yowl. “And I will not be told how to handle discipline within my own Clan. ShadowClan will enforce the code.” His last few words were spat out. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“This isn’t about words.” The false Bramblestar was unsettlingly calm. “It’s about actions. Maybe the attack on me was only the first of many. This will be a long battle, and in enforcing the code we will make enemies. But the Clans must agree that we’re all in this together.”

Murmurs of agreement and support came from the other leaders and the assembled warriors. But as Bristlefrost gazed around at the crowd, all she could see was how many beloved, valued cats were missing.

Squirrelflight, Crowfeather, Mothwing, both ThunderClan medicine cats. But they’ll be back, Bristlefrost promised herself. The rebels may have lost the first battle . . . but I have to believe that they’ll win the war. Will I even be part of it, though? What if they think I betrayed them? Since being named deputy, Bristlefrost hadn’t had a chance to slip away and speak to the rebels, but she was afraid they must be blaming her for protecting Bramblestar.

As these thoughts passed through her mind, Bristlefrost spotted Rootspring across the clearing. For a moment their gazes locked. Rootspring looked completely shattered; he blinked once, then turned his head away.

Does he think I’m a traitor? Bristlefrost wondered, her throat clenching. Do they all?

On the day after the Gathering, Bristlefrost was dropping a blackbird on the fresh-kill pile when she was startled by a yowl of pain coming from the medicine cat’s den. She whirled around, then raced across the camp and brushed past the bramble screen into the den.

Inside, Flipclaw was struggling to bind a poultice onto Shellfur’s paw, but Shellfur was pulling away, scattering leaves and cobwebs over the den floor.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Flipclaw mewed frantically. “If you’d just keep still—”

“You don’t even know what you’re doing!” Shellfur screeched in despair. “It’s just getting worse!”

Flipclaw turned away, and Bristlefrost could tell from his desperate expression that her brother knew Shellfur was right.

Paw steps sounded behind Bristlefrost, who turned to see Sparkpelt pushing the brambles aside as she entered. “What in StarClan’s name is going on?” the orange tabby she-cat demanded.

Bristlefrost’s pelt tingled with apprehension. It would have to be Sparkpelt who walked in, she thought. I know she’s grieving for Squirrelflight, but she doesn’t have to claw every cat’s ears off!