“Yes.” He sounded as though he believed it. He turned in a slow circle, looking toward the entrance to the nursery. Like he was making sure that no cat was nearby. Then he turned back to her. “Bramblestar’s ghost has been following me around the forest for a moon. No cat can see him but me, but I know he’s real. He’s the one who wanted me to come here. He says the Bramblestar who leads your Clan is an impostor. He stole his body when Bramblestar lost a life, and now the real Bramblestar can’t get back in.”
Bristlefrost’s gaze flitted toward the Highledge. Bramblestar was lying in the shade, Squirrelflight sitting stiffly beside him. Of course he wasn’t an impostor! Rootpaw must have had a bad dream. “That’s impossible.”
“I wish it were.” Rootpaw’s shoulders sagged.
Bristlefrost’s paws pricked crossly. The day had been going so well. She’d caught a rabbit on her first patrol and marked the whole WindClan border. She knew Bramblestar must be impressed by what a good warrior she was becoming. And now Rootpaw had to spoil it, humiliating her in front of her Clanmates and telling her a nursery story as though she were a kit who’d believe anything. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because this is too important for me to leave without telling some cat,” Rootpaw mewed. “I trust you more than any cat in ThunderClan, and I thought we were friends.”
Bristlefrost looked away guiltily, then hesitated. What did she have to feel guilty about? “I’m a ThunderClan warrior,” she snapped. “My first loyalty is to my Clan and my leader. Why should I believe a SkyClan apprentice’s lies?”
“Because ThunderClan is in danger,” Rootpaw pressed. “Who knows what this impostor is planning or why he stole Bramblestar’s body?” He searched her gaze hopefully.
She sniffed. “This is nonsense! It’s not possible to steal another cat’s body.”
Rootpaw’s shoulders drooped. “I know it sounds crazy, and I understand why you don’t believe it.” He stared at her, his tail lying limply behind him. “But can you do one thing for me?”
“What?” She glared at him. What did he want now?
“Bramblestar’s ghost brought me here so I could warn Squirrelflight,” Rootpaw told her. “He wants me to pass on his message. I’m supposed to say, ‘I don’t know who that is in my body, but it’s not me.’” His eyes rounded imploringly. “Can you tell her that? Please?”
Bristlefrost shook out her fur angrily. “I’m not telling Squirrelflight such a ridiculous thing! Are you trying to ruin my reputation completely?”
Rootpaw dropped his gaze. “I’d never do that.”
Bristlefrost turned away and stared intently across the clearing. If Rootpaw was going to lie to her and try to make her feel guilty, then she wasn’t going to listen to him.
She heard him sigh. Then he settled beside her and gazed miserably at the camp entrance. It was going to be a long, awkward wait until his Clanmates arrived.
Bristlefrost watched Dewspring and Plumwillow escort Rootpaw from the camp. The young yellow tom padded between them, tail down and shoulders drooping. Bramblestar had used the opportunity to give the SkyClan warriors a lecture on how to discipline their apprentices, and she could tell they were furious at being humiliated by the ThunderClan leader. She felt a twinge of pity for Rootpaw. He was going to be in serious trouble when he got back to camp.
She tried not to think about the punishment Rootpaw might face, just as she tried not to think about the dumb story he’d told her. Why couldn’t he have been honest about why he’d come to ThunderClan territory? Had he come to see her after all and simply been too embarrassed to admit it to her face? She padded to the fresh-kill pile. It had been a long day, and she wasn’t going to think about Rootpaw anymore. She’d eat a mouse and go to her nest early so she’d be up in time to organize the dawn patrols.
Dusk was settling over the camp and her Clanmates were already sharing prey, talking softly in the twilight. Bramblestar was dozing beneath the Highledge, and Squirrelflight had taken the opportunity to move among her Clanmates, weaving around the clearing and stopping to talk here and there. Bristlefrost watched as the ThunderClan deputy stood beside Thornclaw, listening as he told her about the rabbit tracks he’d found in the beech grove. On the other side of the clearing, Alderheart was sharing a thrush with Sparkpelt and Finchpaw, while Stemleaf sat a tail-length away, throwing a reassuring glance toward Spotfur as the spotted tabby she-cat sat alone beside the warriors’ den.
Bristlefrost lifted a mouse from the pile and carried it toward Thriftear, who was already eating with Lilyheart and Flamepaw. As she neared, Stemleaf padded toward her and nosed her away.
She dropped the mouse and blinked at him. “What?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Stemleaf stretched his muzzle closer and lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t encourage Rootpaw,” he whispered. “Or he’ll keep coming back.”
Bristlefrost pulled away sharply. “I didn’t encourage him!” Anger flared beneath her pelt.
