She scanned the empty air.
“He can’t get back into his body because some other spirit is there,” Rootpaw told her. Hope flickered in his chest. Perhaps she could make everything right again.
“Squirrelflight!” The impostor’s yowl cut through the night air. “We’re leaving.”
Squirrelflight scanned the air once more, then turned and hurried away. She caught up with Bramblestar as he marched out of the clearing and pushed his way through the long grass, his pelt bristling angrily. The ghost watched her go, and she shot a longing look over her shoulder. Rootpaw searched the thinning crowd for his family. What would Tree say after the impostor’s behavior tonight? If he’d thought about leaving before, tonight must have convinced him that the Clans had changed, and not for the better.
Two ThunderClan warriors were pushing through the crowd, heading toward Rootpaw. He stiffened when he recognized Spotfur and Stemleaf. Were they coming to accuse him of disrespecting their leader?
“It was an accident—” he began as they reached him.
“What was?” Spotfur stopped and tipped her head, looking puzzled.
“Telling Bramblestar to shut up,” he mewed apologetically.
“We’re not here to talk about that.” Stemleaf glanced furtively over his shoulder. “We just wanted to tell you that we’re planning a secret meeting.”
He blinked at the white-and-orange tom. “What does that have to do with me?”
“It’s for cats who are worried about the way things are going in the Clans,” Stemleaf dropped his mew to a whisper. “We thought you might be interested.”
“Because you told Bramblestar to shut up,” Spotfur chimed.
“I wasn’t talking about
Stemleaf wasn’t listening. He seemed in too much of a hurry. “We’re going to see if we can stop Bramblestar from trying to punish so many cats.”
“We’re meeting at the greenleaf Twolegplace,” Spotfur whispered.
“Three nights from now,” Stemleaf added. “At moonhigh.”
They turned and hurried after their Clanmates before Rootpaw could speak. His pelt prickled along his spine.
“You’re going to go, aren’t you?” The ghost’s mew made him jump. He’d forgotten it was there.
He blinked at it. “I’m still in trouble for sneaking out last time,” he pointed out.
“But cats are finally realizing something is wrong!” The ghost was staring at him eagerly.
“If I get caught attending a secret meeting, I might never become a warrior!”
“You might never become a warrior if Tree decides to take you away from the Clans,” the ghost growled darkly. “And he will if the impostor carries on about making cats suffer.”
Rootpaw didn’t know what to say. Bramblestar’s ghost was right.
“You have to go.” The ghost stared at him. “You and Tree are the only ones who know about the impostor. You might be able to save the Clans.”
Rootpaw stared wordlessly at Bramblestar’s ghost. He felt suddenly small beneath the wide, black sky. He wasn’t even a warrior yet, and the whole fate of the Clans seemed to rest on his shoulders. If he acted, he might get in trouble. But if he did nothing, Tree might take their family away. He could stay, without his kin, but what if the impostor’s accusations tore the Clans apart? He’d have no family
He blinked helplessly at the ghost. “Okay,” he mewed. “I’ll go.”
Chapter 14
“I can see the hole,” Flamepaw called to her from the roof. The young tom was balancing carefully on the delicate canopy of stems, a bracken frond in his paw.
“Can you reach it?” Bristlefrost called back.
“Yes.” Flamepaw began to thread the bracken into the woven honeysuckle.
Bristlefrost sat back on her haunches, relieved to be patching the final holes in the den at last. The sun was high, and ThunderClan had sent out two large patrols. Bristlefrost had asked Lilyheart if Flamepaw could stay in camp to help fix the den. He was nimble and light enough to work on the roof without crashing through it.
Lilyheart had taken the opportunity to clean out her nest and was hauling heather into the warriors’ den while Birchfall, Cinderheart, and Finchpaw rewove loose strands of brambles around the entrance tunnel. Alderheart and Jayfeather were sorting herbs in the medicine den. Poppyfrost was helping Cloudtail and Graystripe line their nests with fresh moss. It was rare these days to see a ThunderClan warrior resting. They preferred to work, which pleased Bristlefrost. StarClan would surely approve of their efforts. Even now, Sparkpelt, Spotfur, and Stemleaf were clearing old ferns from the patch beside the medicine den to give the young ferns more room to grow.
Below the Highledge, Bramblestar got up sleepily from his favorite patch of grass and padded toward the dirtplace tunnel. Squirrelflight scrambled to her paws as he disappeared and hurried across the clearing. Bristlefrost stiffened. Squirrelflight was heading toward her, her eyes glittering with worry.
