Veil Of Shadows

“What more can we do?” Mothwing asked sorrowfully. “We’ve lost his scent, and if he were close by he would have heard us calling for him.”

“But we can’t just abandon him!” Rootpaw protested, his shoulder fur beginning to bristle indignantly.

Puddleshine flicked his tail. “Maybe he’s gone back to ShadowClan,” he suggested. “It’s possible he made it to the Moonpool eventually and didn’t find us there. Maybe we just missed each other?”

The medicine cats all exchanged glances. Rootpaw sensed their doubt, and he didn’t feel optimistic, either. But it was clear that no cat knew what else to do.

Tree rested his tail lightly on Rootpaw’s shoulder. “Let it go for now,” he advised quietly. “If Shadowsight is anywhere nearby, we’ll find some sign.” To the medicine cats, he added, “All of you should stay alert for any sign of Shadowsight as you head for your camps.”

Puddleshine nodded. “Yes, and if you find anything, send word to ShadowClan. But I’ll hope to find him waiting for me back at camp.”

The other medicine cats murmured agreement. That wasn’t what Rootpaw wanted, but he had the sense to realize it was the best he could hope for. His paws dragging reluctantly, he followed Frecklewish and Fidgetflake on their way home to the SkyClan camp.

As he padded through the forest beside Tree, it wasn’t only Bramblestar’s fading ghost that weighed Rootpaw’s belly down with dread.

Where is Shadowsight? What has happened to him?

Chapter 2

Bristlefrost slid between the branches of the warriors’ den and into the silver wash of moonlight that filled the ThunderClan camp. Fluffing up her fur against the night chill, she cast a regretful glance over her shoulder at the warm nest she had left.

I wish I didn’t have to go, but the dirtplace is calling. . . .

While she padded across the camp, Bristlefrost raised her head to see the half-moon floating in the sky, and the glitter of countless stars. But instead of rejoicing in the beauty of the night, Bristlefrost felt her belly begin to roil in apprehension.

Where was StarClan now? Why were they keeping silent?

As she walked back from the dirtplace, Bristlefrost spotted movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see two cats slinking quietly along the stone wall on the far side of the camp. At the same time, the scent of catmint drifted into her nose, so strong that she wondered whether the cats had been rolling in a patch of it on purpose. Tasting the air, she picked up another, fainter tang.

Could that be blood?

At first Bristlefrost wasn’t sure which cats these were. They might even be interlopers, disguising their scent, though Rosepetal, on guard beside the thorn tunnel, hadn’t raised the alarm. Then, as the two cats drew closer, she recognized the impostor Bramblestar and the Clan deputy, Berrynose. Her first flash of relief was replaced by unease as she wondered why they were returning to camp so late and smelling so strongly of catmint.

Bristlefrost headed quickly back toward the warriors’ den, hoping that her Clanmates wouldn’t spot her. But before she could reach the shelter of the branches, she heard Bramblestar’s voice behind her, quiet but insistent.

“Bristlefrost! Is all well?”

Turning to face him, Bristlefrost waited for the Clan leader to pad up to her, with Berrynose close behind.

“Yes, Bramblestar. A quiet night,” Bristlefrost replied, dipping her head respectfully.

Bramblestar let out a huff of satisfaction. “Good.”

His manner was normal—he even seemed to be in a good mood—but Bristlefrost felt uncomfortable talking to him. From this distance, she could see his chest fur matted with blood, dark in the silver moonlight. It had turned his pelt into sticky clumps, but there was no sign of a wound, and he was moving easily, with not a trace of pain in his voice. Bristlefrost opened her jaws to ask what had happened, then bit the words back. She was sure of one thing: Questioning the false Bramblestar would be a really bad idea.

“Good night, then,” Bramblestar mewed, and headed toward his den on the Highledge, while Berrynose padded past Bristlefrost and thrust his way into the warriors’ den.

Bristlefrost hurried after him, trying to tell herself that the two cats had simply been out on a moonlight hunt.

But a hunt for what?

The next morning, Bristlefrost woke to find that the clear night had given way to thick cloud and rain that battered the roof of the warriors’ den. She flinched as an icy drop found its way through the interlaced branches and hit her on the back of her neck. She could hear wind, too, buffeting the trees at the top of the stone hollow.

“And guess what? I’m on dawn patrol!” she announced irritably as she hauled herself out of her nest and shook scraps of moss from her pelt.