Veil Of Shadows

The medicine cat, who was sitting at the base of the rock where his Clan leader stood, rose to his paws. “I don’t believe Flipclaw even knew he should come. But at the meeting, Kestrelflight and Willowshine both promised to let their leaders know about Rootspring’s seeing Bramblestar’s ghost, how he showed us a blurry form that might have been that ghost, and what Shadowsight claims he saw while he was between worlds,” he announced.

“What about the way Alderheart was exiled and Flipclaw was forced to take his place?” Frecklewish asked.

“Yes, that too,” Puddleshine meowed. “So earlier today they paid me a visit to tell me how their leaders took it.”

“That’s good,” Crowfeather commented. “What happened?”

“According to Kestrelflight and Willowshine,” Puddleshine replied, “Mistystar and Harestar both had . . . spirited discussions with their deputies and their most trusted warriors.”

Crowfeather let out a snort of wry amusement. “Spirited, hmm? So how much fur was flying?”

Tigerstar batted at Crowfeather with his tail, though the WindClan cat was too far away for the slap to connect. “That’s not helping,” Tigerstar growled.

“Tigerstar, let me explain,” Puddleshine mewed swiftly. “Apparently Mistystar decided that all the evidence was coming from cats she didn’t know well enough to trust, and she couldn’t turn on another leader without StarClan’s guidance. In the end, she still believes that Bramblestar knows the most about how to get StarClan back.”

“And Harestar?” Crowfeather asked.

“He said Rootspring and Shadowsight had always been a bit odd—”

“No argument there,” some cat murmured out of the darkness.

Shadowsight didn’t know whether to be amused—because he had to admit there was some truth in what Harestar had said—or indignant that his pain and the risks he had taken were being brushed aside like flies hovering over fresh-kill.

“Then Harestar said there were few cats he trusted more than Bramblestar,” Puddleshine continued. “And he desperately needs StarClan’s favor to return prey to the moor. Both he and Mistystar will still support Bramblestar.”

“But what about Alderheart and Flipclaw?” Squirrelflight asked. “Didn’t that mean anything to Kestrelflight and Willowshine?”

“They were both shocked by it,” Puddleshine told her. “I think that’s what made them decide to pass on all the news to their leaders. But it didn’t make any difference to Harestar or Mistystar.”

“Great StarClan, what will it take?” Crowfeather snarled, while murmurs of frustration and disgust rose up from the other cats.

“That’s the problem,” Tigerstar meowed, raising his tail for silence. “RiverClan and WindClan believe that their only hope of seeing StarClan again lies with Bramblestar, so they will never see the bad in him. There’s no hope of winning more allies to our side.” He paused for a heartbeat, then added, “It’s time to attack—even if we are outnumbered. We have to kill Bramblestar.”

“No!” Shadowsight instinctively let out the cry of protest. “How could we kill him?” he continued, as every cat, including Tigerstar, swiveled to stare at him. “Bramblestar isn’t just some bad cat. He isn’t himself. There is something inside him, something evil. But we know from Rootspring that Bramblestar’s ghost is still around here somewhere.”

Now every cat looked toward Rootspring. Shadowsight expected support from him, but the young warrior avoided his gaze, shaking his head sadly.

“I haven’t seen Bramblestar’s ghost for a full moon now,” he confessed. “I’m afraid he’s . . . faded.” At last he looked Shadowsight in the eye, and went on. “I’m very sorry to say this, but I’m not sure there is a real Bramblestar anymore. Our chance to save him may have passed.”

Shadowsight stared back at Rootspring, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He wanted to protest, to yowl out his fervent belief that there still was a chance to restore the real Bramblestar.

But before Shadowsight could utter a sound, the scene in front of him changed. Flames roared upward, cutting him off from the rest of the cats, consuming everything. He recognized the same vision he had received before he killed Bramblestar’s body, the one that had convinced the other medicine cats that his visions were real.

In that vision, fire had divided all the Clans. This time, Shadowsight began to move with the flames, through the forest and up onto the moors. He paused, looking down at the Moonpool. As he set paw on the spiral path, the flames around him died, and he let out a gasp as he found himself back in the exiles’ camp.

None of the other cats seemed to have noticed anything. Squirrelflight had sprung up beside Tigerstar on the flat rock, arguing with vehement gestures of her tail. “I’m telling you that Bramblestar can be killed,” she insisted. “Or at least his body can. And then what will happen to the real Bramblestar’s spirit?”