by Erin Hunter
Bristlefrost’s paws prickled with unease, and her claws started to flex with anger at hearing a hint of accusation in the WindClan leader’s voice. That the Clans’ current problems were somehow all the fault of Thunderclan. Then she saw Squirrelflight’s forlorn expression. Her muzzle clamped tightly shut, and she felt a wave of pity. Squirrelflight clearly believed she was right: But did she really think a cat would try to destroy all the Clans just because she’d chosen Bramblestar over him?
Squirrelflight shifted self-consciously. “I know it sounds far-fetched,” she mewed. “But you didn’t know him as well as I did.”
Leafstar looked puzzled. “Who is Ashfur?”
“He was a Thunderclan warrior,” Squirrelflight replied. Her mouth moved, but no more words came out. It was as if her disbelief was keeping her from finishing her own thought.
“He tried to kill Hollyleaf,” Tawnypelt called from among the cats pressing closer beneath the Great Oak, eyes wide with interest.
“That’s what we heard in RiverClan.” Willowshine looked around at her Clanmates. Shock sparked in the gazes of the younger warriors, but many of the older warriors nodded, exchanging knowing glances.
Reedwhisker flicked his tail. “Mousefur told me at a Gathering that he attacked Hollyleaf when she was alone. That’s how he died: He slipped and hit his head when she fought him off.”
Bristlefrost remembered a night, many moons ago, when Graystripe had told some of the younger apprentices all about Ashfur, whom he’d called “a bad cat.” But however much she trusted the Thunderclan elder, she’d found it hard to believe that a warrior could turn on his Clanmate like that. Was it actually true?
“We heard that in WindClan too.” Crowfeather padded toward Lionblaze, blinking anxiously as he met the golden warrior’s gaze. “He threatened to kill you and Jayfeather once, didn’t he?”
Lionblaze nodded.
Emberfoot blinked. “I thought he was a loyal Thunderclan warrior.”
Sedgewhisker glanced at his denmate. “Don’t you remember the rumors?”
“Of course.” Emberfoot looked surprised. “But I didn’t believe them.”
“They weren’t lies,” Squirrelflight mewed. “Ashfur even helped Hawkfrost lure Firestar into a trap.”
Leafstar frowned. “And you think he’s found his way back from the Dark Forest?”
“He’s in StarClan,” Squirrelflight told her. “I saw him there.”
Leafstar swished her tail. “If StarClan accepted him, he must have changed. He can’t still be bad.”
Lionblaze narrowed his eyes. “He was my mentor, so I knew him better than most,” he meowed. “I can’t imagine him ever changing.”
Leafstar frowned. “But surely this happened moons ago! What’s it got to do with us now?”
Bristlefrost couldn’t help agreeing. Even if Ashfur had been bad when he was alive, he was in StarClan now. Why would a long-dead warrior want to leave StarClan to steal the body of another cat and cause trouble for all the Clans? She glanced around at the younger Clan cats, who were looking at one another, clearly as puzzled as she was.
Squirrelflight’s pelt prickled across her shoulders. “Just because a cat gets accepted into StarClan doesn’t mean they don’t bring their old resentments and hurts with them. Ashfur never forgave me for choosing Bramblestar over him,” she mewed uncomfortably.
Mistystar’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “And you think he’s come back for revenge?”
Squirrelflight nodded eagerly. “That’s why he possessed Bramblestar, don’t you see? That was the best way to get close to me and my kin.”
Harestar looked unconvinced. “That still doesn’t explain why he’s been causing trouble for the rest of us.”
Jayfeather called from below the oak. “When he was alive, Ashfur was willing to kill me and my littermates to make Squirrelflight suffer. He knows hurting the Clans would hurt her more than anything else.”
“But he’s just a warrior,” Tigerstar pointed out. “How could he have found his way back from StarClan? He wasn’t a medicine cat. He’s not that powerful.”
“I found my way back,” Squirrelflight told him. “When I was injured in the fight with the Sisters . . . when Leafpool . . .” Her breath caught in her throat, and her head drooped sadly for a moment, before she went on: “I spent time in StarClan, and I found my way back as a spirit.” She ignored the murmurs of astonishment rippling through the crowd. Instead her gaze flashed toward Tree. “You saw me,” she urged. “You know I came back.”
“Yes, you did,” Tree agreed. “There are things about StarClan we don’t fully understand,” he mewed. “If it’s possible for Squirrelflight to return, then why not Ashfur?”
Tigerstar flicked his tail decisively. “Squirrelflight didn’t steal another cat’s body.”
“I didn’t try to,” Squirrelflight argued. “I never would. But Ashfur might. He’s capable of anything.”
Leafstar’s eyes went round. “Do you think this cat is the reason why we can’t communicate with StarClan?”
Squirrelflight nodded. “Maybe.”
Kestrelflight pushed his way through the crowd and stopped beside Jayfeather. “No one cat could be powerful enough to break our connection with StarClan.”
Jayfeather blinked at him. “Why not?”
“It’s never been done before,” Kestrelflight argued.
“Perhaps no cat has tried before,” Jayfeather answered.
Around the clearing, cats exchanged glances. Bristlefrost noticed that the older cats, who must remember Ashfur, were looking worried. It was clear they were beginning to believe that this Thunderclan warrior might have returned. She felt a strange, curious flush of heat run through her pelt at seeing the cats of other Clans sharing glances—some concerned, some shocked, and some a little angry. Could this really have been Thunderclan’s fault, that StarClan was now absent?
Anxiety sparked in her chest. She supposed it was possible that one of their ancestors had turned against them and found a way to break their connection with StarClan. Her thoughts spiraled. Can we survive without StarClan? And if we do, will we even be warriors anymore?
Squirrelflight shifted on the branch. “Whether or not you agree with me about who’s stolen Bramblestar’s body, we can all agree that a spirit is pretending to be him.” The gathered cats stared back at her uncertainly. “I know how it sounds, but it’s the only explanation that fits the facts. A dead warrior has found a way back and is trying to hurt us,” she pressed. “Right?”
At the back of the crowd, Shimmerpelt began to nod. Around her, the other RiverClan warriors dipped their heads. Their agreement spread as a murmur through the other Clans until Tigerstar whisked his tail.
“Okay,” the ShadowClan leader meowed. “An ancestor has found a way to come back.”
Mistystar nodded. “It seems like it could be Ashfur.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Lionblaze called from below.
Harestar narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t StarClan put a stop to it?”
Squirrelflight’s tail swished angrily. “Let’s accept that we don’t know how this has happened, but it has. And I’m sure Ashfur’s behind it. He wants revenge, and if I’m right, revenge against me won’t be enough for him. As Lionblaze said, he’ll want every cat to suffer. I can’t let that happen because of me.”
“Let Thunderclan deal with it.” The WindClan tom Breezepelt was standing up straight, his tail in the air. “We shouldn’t have to suffer just because Squirrelflight couldn’t decide who she loved.”
“I never—”
Squirrelflight’s protest was drowned out by Cherryfall’s hiss, as the ginger she-cat got to her paws and aimed her amber eyes at Breezepelt: “Do not speak to our leader like that!”
“She’s not your leader!” Breezepelt broke from the WindClan group and stalked ominously toward Cherryfall—who strode out to meet him. All around the Gathering, cats shifted their paws, murmuring uneasily. “Thunderclan doesn’t ha
ve one right now.”
“Yeah . . .” Stonewing, the white ShadowClan tom, stretched his neck as he called out: “And Thunderclan doesn’t have their leader because Squirrelflight’s former mate is causing trouble.”
“He’s not my mate!” Up on the branch, Squirrelflight was standing up straight, risking losing her footing. “He never was!”
“It is not Squirrelflight’s fault that Ashfur developed an obsession.” Jayfeather’s blind eyes were roving the Gathering, as though he was prepared to fight every cat if he had to, to defend his adopted mother.
A heavy, uneasy silence fell. One or two cats looked embarrassed at having almost gotten into fights, while Bristlefrost couldn’t help noticing that SkyClan looked mostly confused at hearing the other Clans discuss trials of a different time, before they had arrived at the lake.
After a moment, Thornclaw bowed his head solemnly. “If it’s Ashfur, he’ll never feel satisfied.”
Blossomfall and Cinderheart murmured in agreement. Birchfall glanced at Poppyfrost.
As Bristlefrost saw worry flash between them, she suppressed a shiver. The older Thunderclan warriors clearly remembered Ashfur and were wary of him.
“If it is Ashfur who’s possessed Bramblestar, at least we know who we’re fighting,” Squirrelflight mewed. She stared over the heads of the cats on the ground, her eyes flitting left and right for a moment, before she turned to face Leafstar. “And I think I know a way to prove it’s him.”
Leafstar blinked. “How?”
The Thunderclan leader’s eyes lit up. “I have a plan.” Harestar tipped his head and Squirrelflight went on. “I think I can trick him into admitting who he is.”
“Okay.” Tigerstar pricked his ears. “Let’s hear it.”
Moonlight drenched the trees, pouring down through the canopy and silvering the forest floor as Bristlefrost followed her Clanmates home from the Gathering. They’d reached Thunderclan territory, but their muscles were still taut, their ears pricked. The air here was fragrant with familiar woodland scents; the undergrowth rustled with prey. But none of the patrol glanced toward the sounds. They padded in silence behind Squirrelflight.
Bristlefrost guessed they were all considering the plan their leader had outlined at the meeting. Could it really work? Her heart was racing. Even if it did work, would proving that Ashfur had stolen Bramblestar’s body help them fix this? She stopped and watched her Clanmates, her tail twitching anxiously. “What difference will it make if we know who it is?” she called after them.
Squirrelflight looked back. Shadows pooled around her, and, as she hesitated, the air seemed to quiver as though it were waiting for her answer, too. “The Clans need to know that the warrior who’s done this is acting alone,” she mewed at last. “It will restore their faith that the rest of StarClan is still on our side.”
“But what if he’s not acting alone?” Bristlefrost struggled to keep up with her racing thoughts. “What if StarClan’s not on our side? The impostor might have divided StarClan just like he divided us. Maybe that’s why we can’t reach them.”
The others had stopped beside Squirrelflight. Cinderheart and Finleap exchanged glances while Thornclaw and Poppyfrost looked nervously at their leader. Finchpaw’s eyes glittered anxiously in the darkness.
Lionblaze lifted his muzzle stiffly. “No cat could divide StarClan.”
Squirrelflight blinked gratefully at her deputy. “Especially not Ashfur.” She signaled to Lionblaze with a flick of her tail. “Take the patrol back to camp,” she told him. “Share our plan with the others. The sooner every cat knows who our enemy is, the better. I want to speak with Bristlefrost alone.”
Bristlefrost stiffened. Is she angry that I questioned StarClan? Her paws felt rooted to the earth as the rest of the patrol padded silently into the shadows and disappeared. “I didn’t mean to scare any cat,” she told Squirrelflight, meeting her leader’s gaze apologetically. “But I don’t see how knowing who’s stolen Bramblestar’s body will help. If one ancestor can turn against us, couldn’t any of them?” She fluffed out her fur, fear making her cold.
“Our ancestors won’t turn against us,” Squirrelflight told her.
“How do you know that?”
“They were warriors once. They are warriors still. They believe in loyalty.”
“So you’re sure he’s acting alone?”
“Yes,” Squirrelflight assured her. “Ashfur is the only cat in StarClan who would put his own needs above his Clan.” She blinked reassuringly at Bristlefrost.
But Bristlefrost didn’t feel reassured. She’d tried to help this impostor when she’d still believed he was Bramblestar, and even after she’d realized he wasn’t, she’d been too scared to confront him. She remembered with a shiver how ruthless he had been, and the dark menace that had sometimes crept into his voice. “But what if he finds a new way to hurt us?” she mewed nervously. “He loved you, but he still wanted to hurt you. What will he do to cats he’s never loved?”
“It wasn’t love,” Squirrelflight growled. “It was obsession. To love another cat is to put their needs first. But Ashfur only ever put himself first. He will do anything to make me sorry I chose Bramblestar over him. He’s already found a way back to the lake, and I’m sure he’s the one who destroyed the connection between the Clans and StarClan, all to get his own way.” Determination lit her gaze. “But we won’t let him. We’ll fix what he’s broken and rid ourselves of him once and for all, okay?”
“Okay.” Bristlefrost dipped her head. Squirrelflight seemed suddenly much more powerful than any spiteful dead cat. Of course Ashfur couldn’t win this battle. He was one cat against many. And yet, as Squirrelflight turned and headed after the others, doubt began to worm in Bristlefrost’s belly. If Squirrelflight’s plan worked, would it make Ashfur more determined to get his revenge?
“Come on.” Squirrelflight picked up the pace as Bristlefrost hurried after her. “I know my plan sounds a little . . . well, very dangerous. But once the Clans know who the impostor is, they’ll know he can be defeated. We can work out a way to get rid of him so that Bramblestar can return.”
What will Ashfur do when he realizes you’re choosing Bramblestar over him again? Bristlefrost swallowed back the words. Squirrelflight must realize the danger, surely.
“I can’t believe he ever fooled me.” Squirrelflight shuddered. “I’ve known Bramblestar my whole life. I should have known straight away that something was wrong.” She lifted her head, her nose twitching as the scents of Thunderclan’s camp washed over them.
Bristlefrost could see the entrance before her. She followed Squirrelflight through the tunnel; her leader’s words were muffled as the thorns swallowed them.
“I’m going to make it right,” Squirrelflight mewed. “I have to.”
Dread pressed at the edges of Bristlefrost’s thoughts. A cornered fox is more dangerous than a whole warrior patrol. She remembered her mentor’s words, learned moons ago. This impostor seemed more like a fox than any cat Bristlefrost had ever known. She admired Squirrelflight’s courage, and she wished she could be more like her, yet she couldn’t help feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.
Chapter 2
The pungent scent of rosemary filled Shadowsight’s nose as he pushed his way through the entrance tunnel, a few stems bunched between his jaws. He was looking forward to tucking them away in the herb store, where the smell would be lost among the other leaves. And yet he hesitated at the edge of the clearing and scanned the ShadowClan camp, noting Mothwing, the RiverClan exile, laying out yarrow leaves in a patch of sunshine near the medicine den. Cloverfoot and Berryheart murmured softly to each other at the head of the clearing, while Tawnypelt and Stonewing shared a starling nearby, and Grassheart and Pouncestep picked at the fresh-kill pile. Flowerstem was working with Whorlpelt to patch a hole in the elders’ den, where Oakfur peered out. It seemed like an ordinary morning, and yet Shadowsight could see his Clanmates exchanging occasional worried glances. Who
rlpelt stopped work and sat back on his haunches, peering at the sky as though judging how close to sunhigh it was.
They’re waiting for it to begin. Shadowsight pushed back a tremor of foreboding and eyed the hollow tree. It stood, dark and gnarled, in the densest part of the camp wall, where brambles twined so thickly against it that even a mouse couldn’t slip through. There was a hole in the trunk that looked like a wailing mouth. Kits used to explore the gloomy den inside, and when greenleaf was very hot, ShadowClan stored prey there to keep it cool. Now it was Bramblestar’s prison. Trailing branches bounded a narrow stretch of earth in front where Bramblestar was allowed to stretch his legs from time to time. Even though he was separated from the rest of the camp, Shadowsight felt the impostor’s presence like the memory of a bad dream that tainted a new day.
Scorchfur and Sparrowtail sat stiffly at the entrance to this bramble enclosure, guarding the defeated Thunderclan leader—or whoever had possessed his body. Scorchfur glanced at the hole in the trunk, where something moved in the darkness, then turned quickly back toward camp. He caught Sparrowtail’s eye, and the two warriors held each other’s gaze for a moment before looking away, shifting their paws uneasily.
They’re nervous. Shadowsight’s pelt prickled. Even the most experienced warriors were scared of the impostor. He pushed the thought away and carried the rosemary to the medicine den, where he dropped it beside Mothwing.
She sniffed it. “That’s strong. Where did you find it?”
“Near the lakeshore,” he told her. “Where we collect mallow.”
“We’d better dry it a little before we put it in the store,” Mothwing mewed.
“Really?” Shadowsight blinked at her. “Won’t it lose its power if it dries out?”
“Some, but it’ll keep longer and save us another trip to the lake.” Mothwing began to spread out the stems, but Shadowsight was hardly listening. His thoughts had flitted to his father. “Where’s Tigerstar?”
Mothwing nodded toward the leader’s den. “With Dovewing.”
