The Silent Thaw полностью

Rootpaw’s throat tightened. He felt an overwhelming desire to bury his muzzle in Tree’s fur, as he’d done when he was a kit. He was relieved that the ghost wasn’t his secret anymore. And Tree believed him. He blinked at his father. “It’s been happening since before the Gathering. That’s why I ran out. I saw him looking at me. He knew I could see him. It freaked me out when he wanted to talk to me.”

“That must have been very scary.” Tree ran his tail along Rootpaw’s spine. “Do you think Bramblestar’s ghost wants to hurt you?”

“No,” Rootpaw told him quickly. “He seems as confused as I am. He just wants to understand why he’s a ghost when his body is still leader of ThunderClan. He says it’s been stolen, and he doesn’t know what to do. I’m the only cat who can see, and he wants me to help him.”

Tree sat down and gazed across the hilltops. “So a ghost can take over another cat’s body?” He frowned, clearly puzzled.

“It only took over when Bramblestar died on the moor.” Rootpaw told Tree what the ghost had told him.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“But it’s happened now.”

Tree paused for a moment, then tipped his head thoughtfully to one side. “I guess it explains why Bramblestar has been behaving so strangely. But who would want to take over his body?” He looked at Rootpaw. “If it’s not Bramblestar, who is it?”

Rootpaw shrugged.

“It must have something to do with all this nonsense about codebreakers,” Tree went on. “Whoever it is, they’re clearly trying to stir up trouble in the Clans.” He narrowed his eyes. “We’re going to have to tread carefully.”

“But if we warn the other Clans what’s happening, it’ll help, won’t it?” Rootpaw’s ears pricked with hope.

“Most warriors don’t see dead cats,” Tree told him. “They’re going to find this hard to believe. Can you imagine old warriors like Thornclaw or Emberfoot swallowing the idea of two Bramblestars—one dead and one alive?”

“But they believe in StarClan. And they fought alongside dead cats in the Great Battle, didn’t they?”

“That was moons ago,” Tree told him. “Before SkyClan even came here. And they all saw those dead cats. I’m not sure any cat will want to believe that a SkyClan apprentice, and you alone, can see the ghost of a living warrior. They might think we’re causing trouble for trouble’s sake.” His tail twitched uneasily. “If this living Bramblestar is trying to hurt the Clans, telling any cat that he’s a fake might just give him something new to sharpen his claws on.”

Rootpaw stared at him, his paws heavy with disappointment. He’d thought Tree might be able to help. He’s as powerless as I am. He blinked at his father. Or maybe not! Hope sparked suddenly from his desperation. “But you’re Clan mediator,” he mewed eagerly. “They’d believe you, wouldn’t they? Bramblestar wanted me to tell Squirrelflight. But I’m just an apprentice. I’ve got no reason to cross their border. You can visit ThunderClan easily. Just say it’s important Clan business and tell Squirrelflight that Bramblestar’s a fake.”

Tree gazed at him solemnly. “I can’t use my position like that,” he mewed gently. “If she doesn’t believe me, it will reflect badly on SkyClan. Squirrelflight could say that I’m trying to undermine ThunderClan. It could go very wrong. It might even start a battle. We can’t risk that until we’re sure of our facts.”

Rootpaw’s pelt tingled. He felt sure another pair of eyes was watching him. He turned around, his heart lurching as Bramblestar’s ghost padded toward him.

“Can he see me?” The ghost nodded toward Tree.

Rootpaw shook his head. “But I’ve told him about you.”

“Does he believe you?” Bramblestar’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes.” Rootpaw nudged his father. “Bramblestar’s ghost is here.”

Tree stiffened, looking around. “Where?”

“Over there.” Rootpaw flicked his tail toward the apparition. Its ghostly pelt was rippling like water in the sunshine.

Tree stared blankly at the patch of grass Rootpaw had pointed out.

“Can you see it now?” Rootpaw asked eagerly. Perhaps if he tried harder, now that he knew where the ghost was . . .

Tree shrugged. “I can’t see every dead cat.” He blinked at Rootpaw. “I wouldn’t want to.”

Bramblestar’s ghost was staring excitedly at Tree. “Is he going to help you speak to Squirrelflight?”

“He can’t,” Rootpaw told it. “Not without getting SkyClan in trouble with the other Clans.”

Bramblestar’s gaze darkened. “He could try.”

Rootpaw stretched his muzzle toward his father. “He wants you to try to talk to Squirrelflight,” he explained.

“I can’t.” Tree stared blankly into space, clearly trying to focus on the spot where he thought Bramblestar’s ghost stood. “This needs to come from Rootpaw. He’s the only cat who can help her speak to you, if she asks—which she certainly will, because she will want proof. And if she figures out that I’m lying, she might think it’s some kind of SkyClan plot. It could cause all sorts of trouble. . . .”

The ghost looked thoughtful. “I guess Rootpaw would sound more genuine.”