Lost Stars

Chapter 22

Bristlefrost felt as though the sun had fallen out of the sky. She couldn’t imagine ThunderClan without Bramblestar as leader: strong and brave, and wise enough to guide his Clan through every danger and hardship.

And he must have had many lives left, she thought. He should have been able to lead us for season after season.

Bristlefrost’s whole body was numb with shock; though she knew she was lying on her belly, she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her, or remember settling into that position. She watched as some of her Clanmates clustered around Squirrelflight, who sat slumped near the entrance to the warriors’ den. She had returned from the moors to give her Clan the news of Bramblestar’s death, and since then she had hardly spoken.

Bristlefrost remembered how Squirrelflight’s sister, Leafpool, had died only a few moons before, and how Squirrelflight herself had spent time in StarClan. It was hard to imagine what Squirrelflight must be feeling now, to have lost her mate. She must be so lonely. . . .

Wondering if there was anything she could do to help, Bristlefrost rose and padded closer.

“Surely StarClan will contact you, if you go to the Moonpool,” Whitewing was meowing as Bristlefrost came within earshot. “We can’t know why this is StarClan’s will, but if you go there and show deference—show that you accept what’s happened—then surely they’ll give you your nine lives and make you our leader.”

“Yes, you must go,” Sparkpelt, Squirrelflight’s daughter, urged her, pressing herself against her mother’s side. Her kits were tumbling about with Sorrelstripe’s outside the nursery, where Sorrelstripe kept a weary eye on them. “You can’t truly become our leader until you receive your nine lives.”

Squirrelflight raised her head. “What good did nine lives do Bramblestar?” she snapped. “He’s dead!”

“But you’re still alive,” Birchfall pointed out. “And your Clan needs you.”

Squirrelflight’s voice dropped to a low growl. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve mourned Bramblestar.”

The cats around Squirrelflight exchanged anxious looks. Bristlefrost knew what they were thinking as clearly as if they had spoken aloud. Our leader is dead, when he should have survived, and our deputy is too crazed with grief to take his place.

Oh, StarClan, Bristlefrost thought. What will become of ThunderClan now?

Sunhigh was approaching when Bristlefrost plodded up the final stretch of moorland toward the snow den where Bramblestar’s body lay. Twigbranch, Rosepetal, and Thornclaw accompanied her, to bring their leader back to the camp for his vigil that night.

When the cats stooped over Bramblestar to draw him out of the den, Bristlefrost could hear their sharp intakes of breath as they realized that his body was almost frozen solid. When she and her Clanmates lifted him, she was surprised to feel how light he was, and saw her own surprise reflected in her Clanmates’ faces as they settled Bramblestar on their shoulders to carry him back to their camp. His illness had drained so much of his strength.

What cat allowed this to happen? Bristlefrost wondered, feeling like a fool. I trusted Shadowpaw. I thought his advice would save our leader. And now our leader is dead.

Despair crept up on Bristlefrost like a hunter stalking its prey as she helped carry Bramblestar’s body back to the stone hollow. When the patrol maneuvered their burden through the thorn tunnel and emerged into the camp, every cat in the Clan was out in the clearing. Several of them broke into anguished wails at the sight of their leader’s ice-crusted body.

Bristlefrost glanced around to see Jayfeather and Alderheart crouched close together at the entrance to their den. The elders, whose task it would be to bear their leader away for burial, stood waiting by the fresh-kill pile. Squirrelflight had not moved since Bristlefrost had left the camp, with several warriors still clustered around her. Even the kits were aware that something was wrong, and they burrowed into their mothers’ fur with tiny whimpers of grief.

The assembled cats parted as Bristlefrost and her Clanmates paced forward and laid Bramblestar’s body down at the paws of the elders. With her task finished, Bristlefrost wasn’t sure what to do. Glancing around, she spotted her mother and father, Ivypool and Fernsong, watching with sorrowful expressions, and ran over to them with a low cry of relief.

Fernsong nuzzled her close. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Bristlefrost leaned into her father’s familiar embrace, thinking how lucky she was to have two parents who loved her. I should have remembered that when I was heartbroken over Stemleaf.

“I will be,” she replied to Fernsong. “But what happens to ThunderClan now?”

No cat could answer her question.

“I remember how much Bramblestar taught me when I was a kit and an apprentice,” Lionblaze meowed. “I believed he was my father then.” His voice caught in his throat, and it was a moment before he could go on. “He was the best father a cat could have.”

Darkness had fallen, and all the cats of ThunderClan had gathered to sit vigil for their dead leader. Alderheart sat closest, smoothing his father’s fur with one paw. Sparkpelt was beside him, and Squirrelflight on their leader’s other side, her head bowed. Lionblaze and Jayfeather sat nearby. Bristlefrost crouched in the circle of cats who surrounded them, listening to the tributes his Clanmates offered to Bramblestar.

“I remember when we made the journey to the sun-drown-place.” Squirrelflight’s voice was low, but clear enough to reach the ears of every cat. “Bramblestar—he was Brambleclaw then—was our leader. He was so brave and sensible. Without him we would never have made it there, much less survived to return to our Clans and give them Midnight’s message.”

A shiver passed through Bristlefrost as she heard Squirrelflight speak of that long-ago journey, the story Ivypool had told her when she was a kit in the nursery. Squirrelflight was actually there, she realized, and she and Bramblestar helped to bring the Clans to our home beside the lake.

“Don’t forget the Great Storm,” Graystripe put in. “Bramblestar was a new leader then, but he kept our Clan safe until we could return to our home here in the stone hollow.”

“And he guided us through the struggle with Darktail,” Alderheart added. “When the other Clans drew away, or gave in to evil, ThunderClan never did. And that was because of Bramblestar.” He bowed his head and his next words were choked out. “He was my father and I loved him.”

Sparkpelt pressed herself closer to her brother’s side. “We all loved him. Every cat in the Clan. And he was worthy of it.”

A desolate silence fell, broken after a few heartbeats by Jayfeather, who rose to his paws from where he sat near Bramblestar’s head. “Bramblestar was—” he began, then broke off, shaking his head helplessly as if the words wouldn’t come.

A moment later he rounded on Squirrelflight, his shoulder fur bristling and his neck stretched out. “Why did you let Shadowpaw kill him?” he hissed. “Where is ThunderClan now? We have no leader, and without a leader we have no future. Did you learn nothing from your time in StarClan?”

A murmur of protest arose from the surrounding cats at Jayfeather’s harshness toward a cat who was grieving. Bristlefrost didn’t understand how he could be so hostile to a cat he had once thought was his mother.

Bristlefrost could see the hurt in Squirrelflight’s eyes, but the deputy remained calm, raising her head to confront the angry medicine cat. “My time in StarClan is no cat’s business but my own,” she snapped. “And we weren’t much better off when Bramblestar was so ill. I believed he was going to die. I had to make a choice, and I made it. And I will continue to do so as acting leader of this Clan.”

“Acting leader?” Jayfeather sneered. “What good will that—”

“I believe that when this leaf-bare ends, we will hear from StarClan again,” Squirrelflight interrupted. “And they will tell us what to do to make all this right.”

Jayfeather looked as though he might say more, then closed his mouth with a snap and sat down again. Bristlefrost tried to find hope in Squirrelflight’s words, but all she could see was a bleak future.

Bramblestar will still be dead. . . .

The vigil continued, with more cats offering their tributes to Bramblestar. Bristlefrost was one of the last cats to speak, wondering what she could contribute when she had known the Clan leader for such a short time.

“He made me a warrior,” she meowed at last. “It was the proudest day of my life. I will honor his memory by being the best warrior that I can be.”

Finally all the cats had spoken. A deep, reflective silence fell over the camp. Bristlefrost realized that she could make out her Clanmates’ faces more clearly; the sky was beginning to grow pale with the first light of dawn. A whole day had passed since they’d first learned that Bramblestar was dead.

The elders roused themselves, rising to stand around Bramblestar’s body, ready to carry him out of the stone hollow to the burial place. Jayfeather rose too, moving closer to Bramblestar’s head.

“May StarClan light your path, Bramblestar.” His voice was steady now, its anger gone. “May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter when you sleep.” Then he nodded to the elders. “It is time.”

The elders stooped to take up their burden, but before they could touch it, a faint ripple passed through Bramblestar’s body. Bristlefrost gasped, hardly able to believe what she had seen. I’m so tired. . . . I must be seeing things.

But around her, all her Clanmates were staring too. At first Bristlefrost could see they shared her disbelief; then, after a moment, they began to look at each other, a gleam of hope kindling in their eyes. “Did you see that?” some cat muttered.

“It . . . it could just be his body settling,” Alderheart stammered.

Another ripple, stronger this time, passed through Bramblestar. Bristlefrost crouched, frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Some cat whispered, “This can’t be . . .”

Bramblestar blinked and raised his head, his eyes vacant. After a moment he rolled onto his belly, and as he turned his head to gaze at his transfixed Clan, his eyes gradually focused. After a few more heartbeats, he rose slowly to his paws.

Every cat stared at him, stunned by what they were witnessing. Some of them backed away in alarm and confusion, while others took a wary step toward him, as if he were a predator who might lash out at them without warning.

“What’s happening?” Sparkpelt whispered.

After a moment Bramblestar stretched out his forepaws and arched his back in a long stretch, as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep. It wasn’t death, Bristlefrost realized. He looked healthier, too, not so emaciated, and his fur seemed to grow fuller, more sleek, as Bristlefrost watched.

Shadowpaw said he would get worse before he got better, she remembered. Is he finally getting better? Yet Bristlefrost was hardly able to believe what she was seeing. What happened to him? He looked like he was dead, for so long. . . .

Bramblestar padded across to Squirrelflight and dipped his head toward her. “Greetings,” he meowed. “It’s good to be with you again.”

Squirrelflight pressed herself against him and twined her tail with his. She was purring too hard to reply.

Bristlefrost exchanged a shocked, wondering glance with Ivypool. “He’s alive!” she exclaimed. “StarClan hasn’t forsaken us!”