Brambleclaw stared after him. He felt bad for his friend and Brook, cruelly driven out of their Clan. Yet he couldn’t believe Hawkfrost was entirely wrong. If this was the best way for him to achieve power, didn’t that make his actions right, in some way at least?
Chapter 16
The sun had set by the time Brambleclaw led Stormfur and Brook through the thorn tunnel into the ThunderClan camp. Shadows lay thickly in the stone hollow, and only one or two cats still lingered by the fresh-kill pile. Rainwhisker, on guard by the entrance, jumped in surprise at the appearance of Stormfur and Brook, but seeing that Brambleclaw was with them he just gave them a nod of greeting and said nothing.
“Let’s go and see Firestar,” Brambleclaw suggested, bounding across the clearing to the rockfall.
When he reached his leader’s den, with Stormfur and Brook scrambling up behind him, he found Firestar already curled in his mossy nest at the back of the cave. He raised his head as Brambleclaw paused in the opening.
“Good, you’re back,” he meowed, sitting up and shaking scraps of moss from his pelt. “What did you—” He broke off when he realised that Brambleclaw was not alone. “Is that Stormfur and Brook?” he mewed in surprise.
“That’s right.” Brambleclaw stepped inside and dipped his head to his Clan leader. “I’m sorry, Firestar. Something happened.”
Firestar beckoned Stormfur and Brook into the den with a sweep of his tail. “Is there a problem in RiverClan?”
“You could put it that way,” Brambleclaw replied. Rapidly he told Firestar everything, from the moment when he spotted Brook chasing the squirrel, to when he invited the banished cats to come back with him to ThunderClan.
“You did the right thing,” Firestar meowed when he had finished. “You couldn’t have left Stormfur and Brook with nowhere to spend the night.” Turning to Stormfur, he added, “You’re both welcome to stay for as long as you want.”
Stormfur’s ears twitched. “We thought just for tonight—” he began.
“That’s up to you,” Firestar told him. “But you deserve some time to decide what you want to do. ThunderClan owes you that, at least, after all the help you gave us when the badgers attacked.”
“Thank you,” mewed Stormfur, and Brook added, “You don’t know how much this means to us.”
It was obvious to Brambleclaw that Firestar would be quite happy to welcome Stormfur and Brook into ThunderClan permanently. Much as he liked Stormfur and his Tribe mate, he wasn’t sure that was the right decision. What about the rest of the Clan? And how would RiverClan react when they found out?
“Brambleclaw, take them to get something to eat, and then find them sleeping places,” Firestar directed. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Brambleclaw led the way out of the den and down into the clearing. He realised just how hungry he was; he hadn’t eaten since that morning, when he caught the mouse near the Twoleg pelts. There wasn’t much left on the fresh-kill pile— hunting patrols would need to go out first thing—but Brambleclaw chose a magpie for himself, while Stormfur and Brook shared a rabbit.
By the time they had finished eating, it was completely dark, and Silverpelt glittered above their heads as Brambleclaw led the way to the warriors’ den. The thorn tree’s new growth hadn’t covered all traces of the damage from the badgers, and the warriors were curled closely together in their mossy nests. Most of them were asleep or drowsily sharing tongues, and at first no cat took much notice of the new arrivals.
“Are you sure there’s room for us?” Stormfur asked as they slipped between the outer branches.
“Plenty,” Brambleclaw assured them.
He headed for some spare space closer to the rock wall, accidentally treading on Dustpelt’s tail as he padded past. The brown tabby tom lifted his head. “What’s going on?” he mewed irritably.
“Sorry,” Brambleclaw muttered. “It’s only Stormfur and Brook. They’re staying for a while.”
Dustpelt grunted. “Does Firestar know about this?”
“Of course.” Brambleclaw bristled at the suggestion that he would bring strange cats into the den without asking the Clan leader.
Dustpelt just twitched his whiskers and curled up again, pointedly drawing his tail close to his side. Brambleclaw managed to escort his friends to an empty space without disturbing any other cat. To his relief Squirrelflight was nearby; she looked up as Brambleclaw approached. Her voice was friendly as she meowed, “Hi, Stormfur, Brook. What are you doing here?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Brambleclaw replied. “Let’s get Stormfur and Brook settled in first.”
“Sure.” Squirrelflight moved over to make more space. Cloudtail was asleep next to her; she poked one paw hard into his side. “Move over, will you? You’re taking up more room than a badger.”
“Badger? Where?” Cloudtail looked up, blue eyes wide with alarm.
“Nowhere, mousebrain,” Squirrelflight snapped as several more cats stirred, heads popping up all over the den. “Go back to sleep.”
Brambleclaw helped Stormfur and Brook make nests for themselves in the moss, and finally settled down beside Squirrelflight. His jaws parted in a huge yawn; he could hardly stay awake to tell the story yet again.
“I wish I’d been there,” Squirrelflight mewed when he had finished. “I’d have shredded Hawkfrost’s ears.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Brambleclaw responded. “Not in the middle of the RiverClan camp.”
Squirrelflight flexed her claws. “He’d better stay out of my way, that’s all. Do you think they’ll stay?” she added, angling her ears towards Stormfur and Brook, who were already asleep, curled closely together among the moss and bracken.
“I hope so.” His jaws gaped in another yawn; his voice was blurred as he added, “ThunderClan needs good warriors.”
“RiverClan’s loss is our gain,” Squirrelflight agreed.
She rasped her tongue over Brambleclaw’s ears; the warm, rhythmic strokes were the last thing he felt as he slid into sleep.
Grey dawn light was filtering through the branches of the thorn tree when Brambleclaw awoke. Outside he could hear Sandstorm beginning to sort out the patrols. Hurriedly he sprang up and pushed his way out into the clearing.
“Why don’t you take Stormfur and Brook on the dawn patrol?” he suggested to the ginger she-cat. “It would be a good way for them to start learning the territory.”
Sandstorm twitched her ears, then nodded. “OK. Good idea.”
“What do you mean, learn the territory?” Brambleclaw jumped as Dustpelt came up behind him. The tabby tom still sounded cranky after being disturbed the night before. “I thought they were only staying overnight.”
“Nothing’s been decided yet,” Brambleclaw replied, wishing that he’d been more tactful, or that Dustpelt hadn’t overheard.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Sandstorm meowed. “They’re here now, so they may as well make themselves useful.”
She poked her head through the branches of the den to call Stormfur and Brook. When they emerged, the four cats headed out together; Dustpelt didn’t say anything, though Brambleclaw saw the tip of his tail twitching as he vanished into the thorn tunnel.
Brambleclaw joined Squirrelflight, Cloudtail, and Brightheart on a hunting patrol. When they returned, loaded with fresh-kill, he noticed more cats than usual standing about in the clearing, as if they were waiting for something. Uneasiness prickled his fur.
“What’s going on?” Squirrelflight asked, dropping three mice and a vole on the pile. “Hey, Brackenfur!” She waved her tail at the ginger warrior as he padded past. “What’s happening?”
“Mousefur just called a Clan meeting,” Brackenfur explained.
“Mousefur called a meeting?” Brambleclaw echoed. “Can she do that?”
Brackenfur shrugged. “She’s done it.”
“Oh, good,” Cloudtail meowed sarcastically. “More trouble. Just what we need.”
“I’m going to see if Leafp
ool knows anything.” Brightheart bounded off towards the medicine cat’s den, and with a disgusted lash of his tail Cloudtail followed her.
Brambleclaw’s uneasiness increased. Across the clearing, he could see the wiry brown elder standing beneath the Highledge. Dustpelt was with her; both cats looked angry.
“See that?” Brambleclaw nudged Squirrelflight.
Squirrelflight nodded. “I don’t know what all this is about,” she mewed, “but I bet I can guess.”
“So can I.” Brambleclaw looked around until he spotted Stormfur and Brook, sitting close together by the thorn barrier. He wondered whether they were reluctant to join in a meeting of a Clan where they didn’t belong, or if they wanted to be sure they could escape if things turned ugly.
He padded over to them, Squirrelflight at his shoulder.
“Are you OK?” he asked. “Has any cat said anything to you?”
Brook shook her head. “We’re fine,” she murmured, but her eyes gave away her distress.
“We had a great patrol this morning,” Stormfur meowed. “Sandstorm was friendly, and Dustpelt—well, Dustpelt is rude to every cat, so you tend not to notice. But when we got back we could see cats glaring at us, and hardly any cat wanted to talk to us. I think Dustpelt went to see the elders, and then Mousefur called this meeting.”
He broke off at the sound of Mousefur’s yowl from across the clearing. “Firestar! Firestar!”
A moment passed before Firestar appeared on the Highledge. A ray of sunlight turned his pelt to flame and traced his ears in gold. “What is it?” he asked.
“The Clan needs to talk to you,” Mousefur replied.
As Brambleclaw padded closer, beckoning with his tail for his friends to follow, Firestar leaped down the rocks and joined the rest of his Clan in the clearing. Brambleclaw thrust his way to the front so that he could hear everything and join in if he had to.
“Well, Mousefur?” Firestar faced the elder, his green gaze level. “What’s this all about? I thought it was the Clan leader’s duty to call meetings.”
It was Dustpelt who replied. He kept his anger under control and spoke with deep seriousness. “We’re not trying to undermine you, Firestar,” he began. “But we’re worried about the way ThunderClan is becoming . . . well, mixed. First it was Daisy and her kits. Now Stormfur and Brook. If it goes on, we won’t be ThunderClan any more, just a collection of loners and kittypets.”
“Mousebrain!” Squirrelflight hissed into Brambleclaw’s ear. “Has he forgotten where Firestar came from?”
Brambleclaw didn’t reply, because Mousefur had started to speak.
“Dustpelt is right,” she declared. “You’re taking in too many strange cats. This is not the warrior code as I was taught it.” More sharply, she added, “You can punish me if you like, Firestar. I tell it as I see it.”
Firestar touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail. “I wouldn’t dream of punishing you, Mousefur. Every cat has a voice in what affects the Clan. But in this case I think you’re wrong.”
Mousefur’s neck fur bristled. “Why?”
“Because ThunderClan needs more cats. Until Daisy came, we had only two apprentices and no kits at all. Now we have plenty of kits, but we need strong warriors to defend our borders and protect our Clan. You know what Blackstar and Leopardstar said at the last Gathering. They want more territory. We’ve already had to fight ShadowClan when they tried to move the border.”
“Not to mention the foxes and badgers in the forest,” Sandstorm added.
Firestar flicked an ear to acknowledge her support. “Stormfur and Brook would be helpful for training young warriors, too,” he went on. “Brook knows hunting techniques that we’ve never learned.”
“That might be useful if we had a mountain in our territory,” Dustpelt pointed out drily.
“We don’t know when it might be useful,” Firestar retorted. “And we’ll need mentors for the kits who are in the nursery now—more, if more kits are born.”
Murmurs of disagreement echoed around the hollow. Rainwhisker’s voice rose above them. “But there are ThunderClan cats who’ve never had apprentices.”
“Stormfur is half ThunderClan,” Brambleclaw meowed, pushing forward to stand beside Firestar. “You could argue he has a right to be here.”
“True.” Firestar gave him a grateful glance. “He grew up in RiverClan, but every cat knows he had a ThunderClan father.”
“And that explains a lot.” The mutter came from just beside Brambleclaw. “Firestar would do anything to get Greystripe’s kin into the Clan.”
Brambleclaw’s head whipped round and he found himself staring into Longtail’s blind gaze. He would have liked to claw the tabby warrior’s fur off, but he contented himself with a faint hiss. Had Firestar heard the remark? he wondered. And is it true? Stormfur looked very much like his father, Greystripe, and he shared Greystripe’s courage and fierce loyalty to friends and Clan. It wouldn’t be surprising if Firestar felt drawn to Stormfur, when he was missing his old friend so much.
“Greystripe and Firestar have been friends for seasons,” Thornclaw meowed to Longtail. “Of course he feels he owes something to Greystripe’s kin.” His tone was quiet, and Brambleclaw couldn’t tell whether he agreed with Firestar’s decision or not.
“As for Brook,” Firestar continued, “what matters is not where a cat was born or who their kin may be.”
Argue with that, Brambleclaw thought. Our Clan leader was a kittypet, and he’s one of the greatest cats the forest has ever seen.
“Loyalty is what matters,” Firestar declared, “and that exists now, not in the past. Loyalty has to be proved every day, in every piece of fresh-kill brought back for the Clan, every claw mark on our enemies, every patrol, every training session.”
“But what if ThunderClan ever has to fight with RiverClan?” Dustpelt asked. “What would Stormfur do then?”
“Are you saying he would be a traitor?” Brambleclaw snarled. He glanced at his friend, but Stormfur was studying his paws, as if none of this applied to him.
“I’m saying he’d be torn between Clans,” Dustpelt retorted. “Would you wish that on any cat?”
Brambleclaw had to admit that the tabby warrior was right. Stormfur had felt that pain already, when he decided to abandon RiverClan and stay with Brook in the mountains. He must be feeling it again now, as he was driven out of the Clan where he had grown up. But what other choice did he have?
“Stormfur’s our friend.” Squirrelflight’s voice broke into the argument. “He made the journey to the sun-drown-place. Brook’s Tribe took us in when we travelled through the mountains. And they both helped us after the badger attack. How many of you would even be alive without them? Is this how you want to repay her?”
“That was different!” Rainwhisker called out. “We never meant to stay with the Tribe for good.”
“Besides, that’s not the problem now,” Mousefur added. “We have to think of the future of ThunderClan.”
“Enough!” Firestar lashed his tail. “I’ve listened to you, but I’m not going to change my mind. If Stormfur and Brook decide to leave, then we’ll give them what help we can. If they want to stay, then we will make them welcome. This meeting is over.” He turned and stalked back towards the rocks leading up to his den.
For a few heartbeats, shock kept the Clan silent. Firestar never snapped out orders like that; he never got angry with warriors who disagreed with him. Brambleclaw guessed that this meant more to him because of his kittypet background, and because offering help to Greystripe’s son was one last thing he could do for his absent friend.
As Firestar vanished into his den, the rest of the Clan broke up into groups, murmuring quietly to one another. Some cats shot hostile glances at Stormfur and Brook; Brambleclaw could see that it wasn’t just Dustpelt and Mousefur who were unhappy with Firestar’s decision.
With Squirrelflight beside him, Brambleclaw padded over to his friends. Stormfur looked up as they approached, his b
lue eyes full of pain.
“We’ll go,” he meowed. “We can’t disrupt the Clan like this.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Brambleclaw argued. “I’m not going to let a few hostile Clanmates drive you out.” Not like RiverClan, he added silently. “I’ll go and talk to Firestar. We’ll figure something out.”
Without waiting for Stormfur to agree, he headed for the Highledge. Behind him he heard Squirrelflight meow, “How about a hunt? I found a great place for prey the other day, just crawling with mice.”
When Brambleclaw poked his head into Firestar’s den, the Clan leader was sitting in his nest, his gaze fixed on the rock wall. He jumped when Brambleclaw appeared.
“Oh, it’s you,” he mewed. “Come in.” Still with the distant look in his eyes, he added, “I was just remembering when Stormfur was born. Greystripe took him and Feathertail to RiverClan because he thought they would be safe and wanted there.”
Brambleclaw let out a murmur of sympathy. He couldn’t remember that far back, when he had been a tiny kit in the nursery with his sister, Tawnypelt. She had left too, to become a warrior of ShadowClan. For a heartbeat, loneliness clawed at his throat and he felt Firestar’s pain as if it were his own.
“Firestar, I have to talk to you,” he began reluctantly.
“What is it?” Some of the old fire returned to Firestar’s eyes. “I thought you wanted Stormfur and Brook to stay?”
“I do. I think you’re right that the Clan needs new warriors. But . . .” His claws scratched on the hard stone floor of the den. “I’m not sure you’re going about it the right way.”
He half expected a cuff over the ear for being rude, but Firestar just held him with a piercing green gaze.
“Go on.”
“Every cat in ThunderClan is loyal. They would all die for ThunderClan if they had to. But Dustpelt and Mousefur feel—every cat feels—that they have to make a stand for the sake of the Clan. They’re worried about the Clan looking weak.”
“So what do you suggest?” Firestar growled. “Give in to them? Drive out two great warriors just because the Clan doesn’t like where they came from?”