Bramblestar's Storm

  “Maybe you should,” Bramblestar mewed, meeting her gaze. “Meanwhile let’s head for the ShadowClan border and see what else we can find. Jessy, if you scratch some earth over that thrush, we’ll pick it up on the way back.”

  As the five cats headed off, Bramblestar felt more relaxed than he had for days. It was good to be part of a patrol, without the weight of his duties as Clan leader. And he was impressed by how well Jessy was fitting in.

  Every cat was keeping a lookout for prey; Dovewing was the first to spot a shrew scrabbling in the grass at the foot of a mossy bank. “Frankie,” she murmured, angling her ears toward the tiny creature. “See that? Try catching it. And remember . . . quiet!”

  Looking determined, the gray tabby tom crept toward the shrew. He remembered to set his paws down carefully, but he had forgotten about his tail, which swept over a clump of long grass. The shrew darted away as the shadow of the grass fell across it. Frankie hurled himself at it in an enormous leap, but his claws hit the ground just short of his prey. The shrew veered away in a panic, right into the claws of Dovewing, who killed it with one quick blow.

  “I missed it!” Frankie wailed.

  “But you drove it straight into my paws,” Dovewing pointed out. “We make a great team!”

  A pleased purr rose in Frankie’s throat.

  “What about you, Minty?” Bramblestar asked. “Can you spot anything? Or hear anything?”

  Minty gazed around confusedly. “It’s all so strange,” she confessed.

  Bramblestar twitched his tail in rising frustration. Can’t she even tell the difference between a branch creaking and a mouse scuffling?

  He opened his jaws, ready for a harsh comment, when Dovewing stepped between him and Minty, motioning him away with a jerk of her head. “Come on, Minty,” she mewed. “Let’s listen together. Can you hear that loud creaking noise? The one that’s repeated every couple of heartbeats?”

  Minty listened for a moment, then nodded.

  “What do you think that is?” Dovewing asked.

  “Er . . . a branch moving in the wind?”

  “Very good,” Dovewing praised her. “Now . . . that rustling sound, just behind you. No—don’t turn your head and look!”

  “Ferns.” This time Minty sounded more confident.

  Bramblestar realized that Dovewing was drawing on her own experience of being able to hear everything. Her patience with Minty was clearly comforting the kittypet, making her feel less out of place.

  Frankie was busy practicing his stalking and crouching, so Bramblestar padded on slowly with Jessy by his side. “Where did you learn to climb?” he asked the brown she-cat.

  “My mother taught me,” Jessy replied. “I’ve always dreamed of living among trees!”

  “Well, now you are,” Bramblestar purred. “And it’s even better than this when the lake isn’t flooded.” Halting to point through the woods with his tail, he added, “There are lots of different trees down there, closer to the shore. Well, there used to be. I don’t know if they’ll survive being underwater.”

  “You’re really worried that the water won’t go down, aren’t you?” Jessy guessed.

  “Yes, I am,” Bramblestar meowed. “Not just for ThunderClan, but for all the Clans.”

  Together the two cats wandered on in companionable silence. But while they were still some way from the ShadowClan border, Bramblestar heard a faint hiss coming from the trees ahead. Pausing to taste the air, he stiffened, feeling every hair on his pelt begin to rise.

  ShadowClan scent!

  Bramblestar suspected that a ShadowClan patrol had crossed the border. He motioned Jessy to get back with a wave of his tail, wishing that he weren’t stuck out here alone with only a kittypet.

  Then a tortoiseshell head peered out from behind a bush, and Bramblestar let out a puff of relief.

  “Tawnypelt!” he cried. “What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER 19

  As Tawnypelt emerged from behind the bush, Bramblestar was aware of Jessy stiffening, her claws sliding out and her neck fur bristling as if she was ready for a fight.

  Of course, Bramblestar thought, she’s heard all about how hostile ShadowClan is, and she saw the WindClan intruders for herself.

  “It’s okay, Jessy,” he meowed. “This is Tawnypelt, my sister. Wait here while I speak to her.” He padded forward the few paw steps that brought him close to his sister. Tawnypelt was looking very thin, her tortoiseshell fur ruffled and her eyes wide. “Is Rowanstar okay?” Bramblestar asked.

  “He’s as well as the rest of us,” Tawnypelt replied. “But . . . oh, Bramblestar, ShadowClan is in big trouble. We’ve lost our camp and nearly all our hunting grounds. Our territory is so low-lying that the water has covered nearly all of it.”

  “You’re right, that’s bad,” Bramblestar mewed. “ThunderClan is struggling, too. We’ve started hunting beyond the top border; has Rowanstar thought of doing that?”

  “Yes, but our patrols ran into some trouble. . . .” Tawnypelt lowered her head, looking uncomfortable, and scrabbled her paws in the grass.

  “What kind of trouble?” Bramblestar prompted her.

  Tawnypelt took a deep breath. “There are kittypets who seem to think that part of the forest belongs to them,” she told her brother. “They attacked our patrols.”

  “Kittypets?” Bramblestar blinked in surprise. “Not the ones who live in the Twoleg nest in your territory? I thought we’d taught them a lesson.”

  Tawnypelt shook her head. “No, they went off with their Twolegs when the water started to rise. These are different cats.”

  “And they managed to chase off ShadowClan warriors?” Bramblestar found that hard to believe.

  “There were a lot of them!” Tawnypelt protested. “And we . . . we’re so hungry all the time, we’re not as strong as we were.”

  Bramblestar could understand that. Compassion for his sister clawed at him; he could see she was torn between pride and the desperate need for help. “What do you want me to do?” he meowed. “Do you want me to give you some of our fresh-kill? That could be difficult. . . .”

  Before Tawnypelt could reply, Jessy bounded up to his side. “Hi!” she mewed to Tawnypelt.

  Bramblestar wished that the kittypet had stayed where he left her. “This is Jessy,” he told his sister. “She’s staying with us for a while.”

  “I live with my housefolk over there,” Jessy added with a wave of her tail across the lake. “But they left when the floods came.”

  “You’re a kittypet?” Tawnypelt’s eyes stretched wide as she gazed over Bramblestar’s shoulder. “And there are more of you?”

  Glancing back, Bramblestar saw that Frankie and Minty had appeared from the trees with Dovewing.

  “Are you completely mouse-brained?” Tawnypelt yelped. “Giving food and shelter to kittypets at a time like this?”

  “They would have died if I’d left them in the flood!” Bramblestar growled, aware of Jessy bristling by his side.

  “That’s hardly your problem,” Tawnypelt retorted. “Well, I guess I can’t expect you to help us if you’re too busy feeding kittypets.”

  Bramblestar forced himself not to get angry. She’s not usually this short tempered. It’s only because she and her Clan are in trouble. “Firestar showed me that compassion is a sign of strength,” he responded calmly.

  “Firestar would have put Clan cats first!” Tawnypelt snapped. She turned and stalked away, then paused to look back over her shoulder. “Forget I said anything, Bramblestar,” she hissed. “Rowanstar will figure out a way to save us.”

  “Wow!” Minty exclaimed, watching Tawnypelt vanish into the bushes. “She’s really fiery! I can see why you don’t get along with ShadowClan.”

  “That’s Bramblestar’s sister, Tawnypelt,” Dovewing informed her. “She’s okay.”

  Bramblestar was torn between anger and worry for his sister. Things must be really bad in ShadowClan if she’s coming here to ask for help. He knew how
proud Tawnypelt was of her adopted Clan. I’m sure Rowanstar knows nothing about this.

  “Is everything okay with Tawnypelt?” Dovewing asked him.

  Bramblestar hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to give away. “Not really,” he replied at last. “But she’s no worse than the rest of us, struggling to survive the flood.”

  Bramblestar led his patrol back to the camp, pausing to pick up Jessy’s thrush on the way. When they reached the tunnel, Frankie headed straight for Millie, who was helping Briarlight with her exercises near the entrance.

  “Look what Dovewing and I caught,” he meowed, laying the shrew proudly at Millie’s paws.

  “Very good!” Millie’s eyes glowed as she gazed at the kittypet. “You see, it just takes a little while for you to settle in here.”

  “And Jessy caught a thrush all by herself,” Minty added as some of the other cats gathered around to look. “She climbed up the tree and leaped through the branches just like a real forest cat!” Minty sounded as pleased as if she had caught the thrush herself.

  “Good job,” Squirrelflight mewed, giving the thrush a sniff. “We’ll take you out with the apprentices next time.”

  “They’re all doing well,” Dovewing put in. Half joking, she added, “Maybe we should give them some fighting lessons next.”

  Jessy and Frankie exchanged a glance. “I’m up for it,” Jessy declared. Frankie looked less certain, but nodded a heartbeat later.

  Minty took a step back. “I’ll stick with hunting, if that’s okay.”

  Bramblestar went to look for Sandstorm, and found her inside the tunnel, fluffing up the bedding to help it dry out. He remembered she’d been ill; though she wasn’t coughing now, he didn’t like the sound of her rasping breath.

  “Did you want something, Bramblestar?” she asked, turning toward him.

  Bramblestar paced the tunnel restlessly as he told her about his meeting with Tawnypelt. “What do you think Firestar would have done?” he asked her.

  Sandstorm had listened quietly, sitting with her tail wrapped around her paws. “I think you’re asking the wrong question,” she mewed. Her green gaze was fixed on him. “You should be asking yourself what you should do.”

  “I don’t know,” Bramblestar confessed. “That’s why I’m asking for your opinion.”

  Sandstorm flicked her tail-tip back and forth for a couple of heartbeats, thinking. “You haven’t welcomed Rowanstar formally as ShadowClan’s leader yet,” she pointed out at last. “And there’ll be no more Gatherings until the water goes down. Why not visit him? If his Clan is obviously in trouble, it wouldn’t be too difficult to ask if he wants help. Then he can make the decision whether to accept or not.”

  Bramblestar sagged with relief. “You’re right,” he meowed. “Why didn’t I think of that? What kind of leader am I if I have to ask you what to do all the time?”

  “You don’t ask me all the time,” Sandstorm mewed briskly. “You’re doing fine. I’m glad Tawnypelt felt that she could come and ask you for help,” she added. “Sometimes Clan boundaries cause more damage than they’re worth.”

  The two hunting parties returned at sunhigh. Not that we can see the sun, Bramblestar thought. Sometimes I think we’ll never feel its warmth again. When every cat had finished eating, Squirrelflight began to organize the afternoon patrols.

  “I don’t mind going out again,” Jessy offered. “Hunting this morning was fun.”

  “I’ll go too,” Frankie mewed.

  Bramblestar was glad that the two kittypets were adapting so well, but he could see that they were both tired after the morning’s unaccustomed exercise. “No, you’ve already done your bit,” he meowed. He had been watching the two medicine cats patiently trekking back and forth with mouthfuls of herbs, and now he suggested, “Why don’t you help Jayfeather and Leafpool sort out their supplies?”

  “That would be great.” Leafpool padded over to them. “We’re managing to build up a store again, but we lost everything so we had to start over.”

  Bramblestar spotted Dovewing talking to Brightheart, who had also been helping the medicine cats. “Do you think you could take Minty with you to look for herbs? It would help her get used to the forest.”

  “Sure,” Brightheart responded.

  Bramblestar gave Dovewing a grateful nod, impressed by her kindness and her good sense in guessing what would help Minty to feel better about her new surroundings.

  Cherryfall and Mousewhisker puffed past him, dragging branches, with Brackenfur and Dustpelt to supervise.

  “Careful as you go past the mudfall,” Dustpelt warned. “We spent a lot of time getting it secure, and I don’t want you to dislodge it.”

  “We’re being careful,” Cherryfall panted.

  “It’ll be fine,” Brackenfur reassured Dustpelt. “Think how much more comfortable the nests will be when we install these windbreaks.”

  Bramblestar watched them as they disappeared into the tunnel. He couldn’t help noticing how old Dustpelt and Brackenfur were looking, the fur around their muzzles fading to gray and their movements growing stiffer. I’m glad they have the younger cats to help them.

  “No, Purdy, you don’t need to go on patrol.” Squirrelflight’s voice interrupted Bramblestar’s thoughts. “I need you to help look after the sick cats—Briarlight especially.”

  Bramblestar purred. I’d be lost without Squirrelflight to keep every cat in line! She has a knack for making them all feel useful and important, even Purdy.

  When the sturdy tabby had gone bumbling off into the tunnel, Squirrelflight noticed that Bramblestar was looking at her, and padded across to him. “Do you have any special tasks for today?”

  “I’m thinking of going over to ShadowClan to have a word with Rowanstar,” Bramblestar meowed. “Just to see how he’s coping.”

  Squirrelflight blinked in surprise. “I don’t think Rowanstar will appreciate another Clan muscling in,” she told him.

  “Blackstar was generous to me when I first became Clan leader,” Bramblestar responded. “I’d like to return the favor.” He didn’t tell Squirrelflight about his encounter with Tawnypelt.

  Squirrelflight still didn’t look impressed, but she didn’t argue any more. “Then I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the camp,” she mewed.

  Bramblestar glanced around to see which cats were free to come with him, and beckoned Leafpool with a wave of his tail. “I’m going to visit ShadowClan,” he informed her. “Now that Jayfeather has some help, I’d like you to come with me.”

  “Sure, Bramblestar.”

  “Spiderleg, Cinderheart!” Bramblestar called.

  The long-legged black warrior came bounding over, while Cinderheart, who had been talking to Lionblaze under a nearby elder bush, followed more slowly, with Lionblaze still at her side.

  “Can I come too?” Lionblaze asked when he heard where his Clan leader and the others were going.

  Bramblestar shook his head. “I’m not expecting trouble,” he meowed, “so I don’t want to take too many warriors with me. Besides, Lionblaze, you have a habit of bringing trouble to ShadowClan all by yourself.”

  “Okay,” Lionblaze agreed without protest. He touched noses with Cinderheart. “Take care,” he mewed softly. “You don’t know what you’re going to find over there.”

  Cinderheart gave his ear a lick. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Watching their farewell, Leafpool leaned close to Bramblestar. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we have some new kits in the Clan soon,” she murmured.

  Kits! Bramblestar thought happily. Then he let out a sigh. I hope they aren’t born outside the hollow, in this cold, damp tunnel.

  As Bramblestar’s patrol was getting ready to leave, Jessy looked up from where she was sorting herbs with Jayfeather and came racing over to them. “Good luck, Bramblestar,” she meowed. “You’re being a good brother to do this.”

  Squirrelflight looked puzzled. “What does she mean, ‘a good brother’?” she asked, her ta
il-tip twitching.

  Bramblestar began to regret that he hadn’t told Squirrelflight about his meeting with Tawnypelt. But it’s too late now. “Oh . . . uh . . . I guess Jessy knows my sister is in ShadowClan, and that I’m worried about her.”

  Squirrelflight didn’t look convinced by his reply, her green gaze flicking from Bramblestar to Jessy and back again. “Well, isn’t Jessy learning quickly,” she commented after a moment.

  Realizing anything he said would just make things worse, Bramblestar led his patrol out of the camp and through the trees to the ShadowClan border. When they reached it and saw the extent of the flooding in their rivals’ territory, Spiderleg and Leafpool halted, gazing in shock at the waste of water.

  “I had no idea the lake had stretched so far!” Leafpool exclaimed.

  “It’s pretty bad.” Cinderheart, who had seen this on her previous patrol, was calmer. “Life must be so hard for ShadowClan now.”

  “Life’s hard for all of us,” Spiderleg mewed unsympathetically.

  Bramblestar had no idea how to find ShadowClan’s temporary camp, so he led his patrol along the border, staying on the ThunderClan side, his ears pricked for the sound of cats and his jaws parted to pick up their scent. Eventually a whiff of ShadowClan scent reached him and he heard the swish of long grass as cats brushed through it.

  “Hey, ShadowClan!” he called out, stopping. “Over here!”

  He waited, his Clanmates bunched around him, until Crowfrost appeared around a bramble thicket with Tigerheart and Scorchfur a pace or two behind. All three cats looked desperately thin, their ribs showing beneath their pelts.

  “What do you want?” Crowfrost growled as he stopped in front of Bramblestar. “You have no business being here.”

  “We haven’t crossed your border,” Bramblestar pointed out mildly. “But we’d like to visit Rowanstar. I want to welcome him as your new leader.”

  “I think they just want to find out where we’ve made our new camp,” Scorchfur put in, glaring over Crowfrost’s shoulder.

  “Well, we don’t have to take them there,” Crowfrost responded. “If that’s really what you want,” he added to Bramblestar, “then we’ll bring Rowanstar to you here.”