Rootpaw’s pelt bristled. “But I’m just an apprentice!” He shifted uncomfortably as Tree and Bramblestar’s ghost looked at him. “How am I even supposed to get into the ThunderClan camp?”
Tree narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You have a friend there, don’t you?”
Rootpaw fluffed out his fur indignantly. “Bristlefrost is not a
The ghost’s eyes sparked with hope. “You can visit her, though.”
“Not without getting into trouble!” Rootpaw glared at it.
Tree pricked his ears. “What did Bramblestar say?”
Rootpaw had forgotten that his father couldn’t hear Bramblestar’s ghost. “He thinks I should visit Bristlefrost.”
“Maybe not visit her, exactly,” Tree mewed. “But she might be able to help when you get there.”
“How do I get there?” Rootpaw’s heart was pounding. They were both acting like this was easy.
“You’ll have to sneak in,” Bramblestar’s ghost told him.
“I can help you,” the ghost pressed. “I know the territory. I can show you how to get to the camp without being seen.” It turned and headed along the hilltop. “Come on. We should go now. There’s no time to waste.”
Rootpaw blinked desperately at his father. “He wants me to go to the ThunderClan camp now,” he breathed. “He says he can help me get there without being seen.”
“You should go,” Tree told him. “If another spirit is using Bramblestar’s body, the Clans might be in danger.” He fixed Rootpaw’s gaze solemnly. “I know he’s asking you to do something dangerous and difficult, but I think you should try. If you get in trouble, I’ll do everything I can to help you. But I know you can do this. Squirrelflight needs to know, and if any cat can persuade her, you can.”
Rootpaw stared into Tree’s eyes, his heart pounding. Tree was right. If Bramblestar’s ghost needed help, he should help it. He nodded to his father. “I’ll do it.”
Bramblestar’s ghost was already disappearing over the crest of the hill. “Hurry up!” he yowled.
“Take care of yourself!”
Tree’s mew rang out across the grass as Rootpaw bounded to follow Bramblestar’s ghost downslope.
Rootpaw’s ears twitched nervously as he stepped across the ThunderClan border.
“This way.” Bramblestar’s ghost was barely visible in the shadowy forest as it hurried past a wide swath of brambles and stopped where the forest floor sloped into a lake of bracken.
Rootpaw hurried after it, keeping close as the apparition led him among the stems.
His nose twitched as ThunderClan scents bathed his muzzle. “Is there a patrol nearby?”
“I’ll scout ahead.” Bramblestar’s ghost signaled for him to stay where he was with a flick of its tail and disappeared. Rootpaw waited, his breath shallow with fear until the ghost finally returned. “It’s clear all the way to the bluebell glade. Quick.”
As Bramblestar moved silently through the stems, Rootpaw followed, wishing his pelt didn’t make them rustle.
“Stop.” The ghost’s order sent alarm spiking through Rootpaw’s chest. He froze as the ghost pulled up and peered from the undergrowth. “Patrol.”
Rootpaw pressed his belly to the earth, holding his breath as paw steps sounded in the distance. He was trembling by the time they’d passed and faded.
“Up here.” Bramblestar’s ghost climbed effortlessly into an oak and disappeared among the branches. Rootpaw followed, scanning the forest as he heaved himself up. The ghost’s pelt was barely visible in the shadows as Rootpaw followed it along a branch, and he watched, alarmed, as it leaped into the next tree. Teetering on the end, Rootpaw stared at the forest floor. He mustn’t fall. There was no cat here to help him. He bunched up his muscles, then leaped, digging his claws deep into the bark as he landed. The branch trembled beneath him, and he clung on tight until it stopped shaking.
Bramblestar’s ghost was already hurrying along it, past the trunk and onto the next branch. Rootpaw’s heart was pounding as he followed the apparition from one tree to the next, thankful for his SkyClan training. He’d never traveled so far in trees before, and by the time he finally leaped down onto the forest floor, his pelt was spiked with fear.
“The camp’s not far,” Bramblestar told him.
Rootpaw swallowed back his dread. If this was scary, what would it be like to sneak into ThunderClan’s camp? He hurried after the ghost as it ducked beneath a bramble.
“Squeeze under here,” it ordered. Rootpaw ducked down and hauled himself beneath the low bush, wincing as the prickles snagged his fur. He was sharply aware of the branches pressing around him. He was so far from home. His fear started to spiral.
“Slow down!” The ghost’s fur shimmered among the stems. Alarm edged its mew.
