The Silent Thaw

Puddleshine’s words had unsettled him. Could it be true that he’d misinterpreted StarClan’s signs? Were his ancestors trying to send him a deeper message that he was too mouse-brained to understand? Instinctively he headed for the edge of the forest and the stream that would lead him to the Moonpool. Perhaps they’d talk to him now, if he confessed that he didn’t understand their visions and begged them to just tell him what they wanted.

The moon was high by the time he pulled himself over the lip of the hollow and followed the dimpled rock down to the pool. The black surface reflected no stars, and the dark water made him nervous. Was StarClan determined not to listen? His heart quickened as he crouched at the edge. Please, StarClan, speak to me. I only want to make things right, for you and for the Clans. Surely they’d hear the longing in his heart and respond? The Moonpool was cold, but the thawed water rippled as he touched his nose to it. He let his mind clear, waiting for the wide green meadows of StarClan to open before him and the voices of cats he’d only known in visions to speak to him.

He saw only endless darkness. The chill of the stone beneath his paws seemed to reach through him, until he felt as cold as ice. Fear trickled along his spine, and he shivered, suddenly unnerved. The weight of another cat’s gaze seemed to press into his pelt. Was some cat watching him? He lifted his head sharply and blinked open his eyes. In the silence of the night, he could sense another presence in the hollow. He fluffed out his fur, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the Moonpool’s wide stone basin beneath the endless black sky. Fear wormed beneath his pelt and, keeping low, he crept away from the water and hurried up the spiraling path to the lip of the hollow. He scrambled over the edge, relieved as the shadows swallowed him.

He had felt nothing of StarClan in the hollow, and as he padded quickly along the stream that cut through the moor and led back toward the forest, his pelt prickled with foreboding. He realized with a sense of dread that none of the visions had swept him to the sun-drenched meadows of StarClan. There had been no glittering pelts, only a single disembodied voice swathed in shadow. That voice had told him to take Bramblestar onto the moor to let him die. It had told him that the Clans must suffer until the codebreakers were punished.

Puddleshine’s words rang again in his head. Every vision seems to have pushed the Clans deeper into conflict. His mentor was right. Each time he’d shared what he’d seen, the Clans had grown more frightened and more defensive. I don’t see why StarClan would want to lead us down that path.

StarClan had only ever wanted the Clans to be safe and happy. Why would they demand suffering now?

He glanced back toward the hollow, no more than a silhouette against the starry sky. He’d gone to the Moonpool to find clarity. And he had, but not in the way he’d expected. Certainty sat like a rock in his belly. The voice, which had told him to cure Bramblestar by letting him die and had shown him the codebreakers, belonged to a spirit that knew the Clans. But he knew now, with a sureness that filled him with horror, that the voice had never been the voice of StarClan.

Chapter 16

Rootpaw peered from the den entrance

and tasted the damp night air. Musty forest scents bathed his tongue. The dark clearing was deserted. He pricked his ears and heard only the call of an owl far away in the forest. Anxiety fluttered in his belly as he glanced at the moon. It was already high in the raven-black sky. His Clanmates had taken ages to settle into their dens and go to sleep. I’m going to be late for the meeting!

Bracken rustled behind him, and he jerked his muzzle around, alarm sparking in his pelt. Had one of his denmates woken? In the shadows, he saw Wrenpaw curl tighter in her nest and settle deeper into the moss. Needlepaw was still snoring softly beside her.

Holding his breath, Rootpaw slipped outside, skirting the clearing as he made for the entrance. He quickened his step. Once he was out in the forest, he would only have to worry about being seen by foxes and badgers. For once, he wished that Bramblestar’s ghost were with him. He didn’t like being alone in the woods at night, and another pair of eyes would be useful. But the ghost had disappeared last night and Rootpaw hadn’t seen it since. Perhaps it had gone to keep an eye on Squirrelflight. She’d looked pretty scared when she’d found out her mate was an impostor.

“Rootpaw?” A whisper from the shadows made him freeze. Fur spiking, he glanced around, his heart sinking as he recognized his father’s yellow pelt glowing in the moonlight.