Bramblestar's Storm

  Bramblestar would have been prepared to settle for that, but Spiderleg broke in. “Look, we’re all suffering from the floods,” he snapped. “The last thing we want is to attack your camp. Just take us there!”

  “That’s enough!” Bramblestar warned him, raising his tail.

  Before he could say anything to the ShadowClan cats, Crowfrost’s shoulders sagged. “Okay, then, come on,” he meowed, sounding too weary to argue anymore.

  The ThunderClan patrol crossed out of their own territory and followed the ShadowClan cats, heading toward the top border. The ground began to rise steeply and a cold wind whipped their fur the wrong way and rattled the tops of the spindly trees. Crowfrost came to a halt in front of a dense bramble thicket. There was a strong reek of ShadowClan, and Bramblestar could hear sounds of movement and muted mews coming from deep within the brambles. It looks like they camped as high up as they could because they were afraid the water wouldn’t stop rising.

  “Wait here,” Crowfrost ordered. “I’ll bring Rowanstar out to you.” Pressing himself to the ground, he wriggled his way inside. Scorchfur and Tigerheart remained outside on guard. Ready to spring if we put a paw wrong, Bramblestar thought.

  Eventually there was movement among the brambles and Rowanstar appeared, followed by Crowfrost and two or three other ShadowClan cats.

  “Greetings, Bramblestar,” the ShadowClan leader mewed. “Crowfrost, thank you for bringing them to see me. Crowfrost is my new deputy,” he added to the ThunderClan cats, who murmured congratulations.

  “And of course we congratulate you on receiving your nine lives, Rowanstar,” Bramblestar meowed. “We know you will be a strong leader for ShadowClan. I see that you’ve managed to find a good place to camp while the water is high.”

  Rowanstar gave a brief nod. “Yes, we’ve had to move, just as you have, no doubt. But the water will soon go down, and meanwhile we’re surviving.”

  For all his brave words, Bramblestar could see the panic in the Clan leader’s eyes. His tucked-up flanks suggested that he had been giving all the fresh-kill to his Clanmates. But Bramblestar knew there was no point in challenging him directly about the trouble he was in. There’s no way he would ever admit it.

  Leafpool stepped forward, dipping her head to Rowanstar. “May I speak to Littlecloud?”

  “Yes, of course,” Rowanstar replied, respect for the medicine cat showing in his eyes. “Dawnpelt, please go get him.”

  The cream-furred she-cat, her belly swollen with kits, turned and pushed her way back into the brambles. That’s Tawnypelt’s daughter, Bramblestar thought. My kin . . . and her kits will come soon. I must do something to help this Clan.

  Littlecloud emerged from the thicket a moment later. Bramblestar was shocked to see how old and frail he looked; his eyes seemed to be fixed on some point in the distance, and his haunches quivered as he lowered himself to the ground.

  Bramblestar’s shock was reflected in Leafpool’s eyes as she padded up to Littlecloud and touched noses with him. “How are you, Littlecloud?” she asked.

  “Fine,” the old tabby rasped. “The apprentices are finding herbs to replenish my stores, and all the cats are healthy.”

  “Would you like me to take a look at your supplies?” Leafpool offered. “I might have some spare herbs that you’re missing.”

  A pleased glimmer appeared in Littlecloud’s eyes. “Thank you, Leafpool. That would be very helpful.”

  Rowanstar’s neck fur bristled slightly, but he didn’t protest as his medicine cat led the way into the thicket and Leafpool followed.

  The medicine cats had hardly disappeared when Pinenose and Pouncetail padded up from the direction of the lake, dragging dry bracken fronds behind them. Bramblestar exchanged a surprised glance with Cinderheart that warriors were fetching bedding; then he recalled that ShadowClan had so few apprentices that some of the everyday tasks would have to be carried out by warriors.

  “Great, you found some!” Scorchfur exclaimed, looking pleased, as the two cats approached.

  “We’ll take this straight to the nursery,” Pinenose mumbled around her mouthful of bracken. “Snowbird and your kits will sleep warm tonight.”

  “Let me help you carry it in,” Cinderheart suggested, stepping forward.

  “I’ll come, too,” Spiderleg added.

  The warriors who were struggling with the bracken looked willing to accept help, but Rowanstar lashed his tail. “ShadowClan can manage without ThunderClan’s interference,” he snapped.

  “No cat doubts that,” Bramblestar mewed, keeping his voice calm. “But equally it’s not a sign of weakness to accept help sometimes.”

  Rowanstar’s nostrils flared, while Pinenose and Pouncetail quickly started dragging the bracken into the camp before a full-blown argument developed. The ThunderClan warriors stayed where they were.

  With a twitch of his ears Bramblestar beckoned Rowanstar a little way from the bramble thicket, so that they could talk privately. “Look,” he began, deciding to get straight to the point, “I know about the kittypets who have been stopping you from hunting beyond the border. If you want, I could send some warriors to help you defeat them, just like we did when you first moved into the territory.”

  Rowanstar lashed his tail and his shoulder fur bristled up into spikes. “Who told you?” he demanded.

  As if his words had summoned her, Tawnypelt appeared from the bushes, carrying a scrawny blackbird in her jaws. The rest of her hunting patrol followed with a few more puny scraps of prey. She halted at the sight of Bramblestar standing beside Rowanstar.

  Understanding flashed into Rowanstar’s eyes. “Tawnypelt!” he snarled. “Over here—now!”

  Tawnypelt gave her blackbird to another member of her patrol and padded over.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Rowanstar challenged her. “You told a cat from another Clan that ShadowClan needed help.”

  Tawnypelt gave Bramblestar a glare as if to ask him why he had come blundering in. “Yes, it was me. Of course I’ll ask my brother for help if I need it.”

  “And you call that being loyal to ShadowClan?” Rowanstar demanded.

  “You’ve never had reason to doubt my loyalty.” Tawnypelt’s voice was scathing. Then she softened, taking a step toward Rowanstar. “Please let ThunderClan help us,” she begged.

  Rowanstar lifted his head proudly. “Never. This is my Clan, and we will stand alone.”

  Bramblestar felt a sudden rush of sympathy. I should never have expected that Rowanstar would fall at our paws and beg for help. “Cinderheart, Spiderleg, we’re leaving,” he meowed. “Will some cat please get Leafpool?”

  Scorchfur slid into the thicket, and emerged a moment later with Leafpool and Littlecloud. She padded over to Bramblestar, and he saw with a sharp stab of concern that her eyes were full of trouble.

  “Bramblestar, I want to stay here,” she mewed. “Please let me.”

  Bramblestar blinked. “Why?”

  “Dawnpelt is very close to kitting,” Leafpool explained in a rapid undertone. “And Littlecloud’s herb store is pitiful. I could be a real help to him, and Jayfeather can manage without me for a few days.”

  Rowanstar was staring at her with horror in his eyes. “Are you mouse-brained?” he began. “Do you imagine—”

  Leafpool cut him off. “Rowanstar, do you want a healthy litter of kits, or don’t you?” While the ShadowClan leader was spluttering for an answer, she went on, “You know that Clan rivalries mean nothing to medicine cats. Will you deny me the chance to do the role that StarClan chose for me?”

  Her logic silenced Rowanstar, while Bramblestar regarded his medicine cat with admiration.

  “I could do with some help,” Littlecloud admitted. “Just for a few days.”

  Rowanstar turned to the old medicine cat with compassion in his gaze. “Very well,” he meowed.

  “Please, Bramblestar,” Leafpool begged. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Bramblestar hesitated, then dipped his head. ??
?Whatever you want.”

  Beckoning Spiderleg and Cinderheart with a flourish of his tail, he said good-bye to Rowanstar and led the way toward ThunderClan territory. He was still reeling from Leafpool’s unexpected decision.

  “Do you think Leafpool will stay with ShadowClan forever?” Cinderheart mewed. “After all, Littlecloud hasn’t had an apprentice since Flametail died.”

  A cold shiver passed through Bramblestar to hear his own fears voiced out loud. “Of course she’ll come back!” he snapped. “She’s a ThunderClan cat.”

  But even though he silenced Cinderheart, he couldn’t silence his own misgivings.

  Am I losing control of my Clan? I feel as though my cats are slipping through my paws like water.

  CHAPTER 20

  The first cat Bramblestar spotted when he reached the makeshift ThunderClan camp was Jayfeather, padding up from the opposite direction with Brightheart. Both cats were carrying bunches of herbs in their jaws. Jayfeather halted in front of the tunnel entrance, turned toward Bramblestar’s patrol as though he could see them. Then he dropped his herbs and bounded over to them.

  “Where’s Leafpool?” he demanded.

  “She stayed behind to help Littlecloud,” Bramblestar explained. This isn’t going to go well.

  Jayfeather’s neck fur stood on end. “And you let her? What about ThunderClan? Don’t you think I’ve got enough on my paws, looking after the cats with whitecough?”

  “You have Brightheart to help you,” Bramblestar pointed out.

  “It’s not the same,” Jayfeather hissed.

  Brightheart, who had followed him over, blinked at him, completely unoffended. “I’ll do whatever I can,” she mewed.

  Jayfeather gave a disgusted snort and stalked off. Brightheart shot an apologetic glance at Bramblestar and hurried after him.

  Across the clearing, Squirrelflight was organizing Mousewhisker, Dovewing, and Thornclaw into a hunting patrol. On the way out she halted beside Bramblestar.

  “How did the meeting go with Rowanstar?”

  Bramblestar described his offer to help ShadowClan cope with the fierce kittypets, and how Rowanstar had refused.

  Squirrelflight shrugged, though there was compassion in her green eyes. “That’s Rowanstar’s decision to make,” she commented.

  As Squirrelflight headed off with her patrol, Bramblestar noticed Jessy standing close by, listening to his account of the visit. He was about to beckon her over when Rosepetal, who was spreading the bits of Twoleg pelt on a holly bush, called out to her.

  “Hey, Jessy, come and help me freshen up these pelts!”

  Jessy bounded across to her immediately. Bramblestar was pleased and a little surprised to see how well she was settling in.

  “You’d almost think she was a Clan cat,” he remarked to Graystripe, who was padding past him with a starling in his jaws.

  Graystripe nodded, dropping his prey to reply. “We should have learned by now not to be surprised by kittypets,” he mewed with a wry twist to his mouth.

  “Hey, Bramblestar!” Cherryfall popped her head out of the tunnel. “Look what we’ve done with the new dens!”

  Bramblestar headed toward her, leaving Graystripe to carry his prey to the fresh-kill pile. Inside the tunnels, he saw that each section had been marked out by low walls of interwoven branches that would give even more protection from drafts. Within each wall were several nests of moss and bracken; stretching out a paw, he felt that they were hardly damp at all.

  “How do you like it?” Cherryfall prompted.

  “It’s great,” Bramblestar replied. It looks almost comfortable.

  “It’ll be even better once Rosepetal gets the Twoleg pelts back in,” Cherryfall mewed. “Dustpelt and Brackenfur worked out the breaks, and Mousewhisker and I helped build them.”

  “Good job, all of you,” Bramblestar purred. “I think we’ll all sleep better from now on.”

  He padded farther down the tunnel, spotting Purdy curled up asleep in the den he shared with the apprentices, and lastly reaching the section where Jayfeather and Leafpool had their den, next to the sick cats. Jayfeather and Brightheart were arranging their newly gathered herbs in cracks in the rock.

  Berrynose and Molewhisker were both sleeping; their breathing sounded almost back to normal. Amberpaw looked much better too, helping Briarlight with her exercises by tossing a ball of moss for her to catch. Bramblestar noticed uneasily that the injured cat couldn’t manage more than a couple of throws without having to stop to catch her breath.

  Sandstorm was curled up in her nest, but she raised her head and greeted Bramblestar as he approached. “How did the visit to ShadowClan go?” she asked.

  “Not good,” Bramblestar admitted. “Rowanstar wouldn’t let us help him with the kittypets.”

  “But he was quick enough to accept our medicine cat,” Jayfeather put in with a snarl.

  “Leafpool will be back soon,” Bramblestar told him, hoping that was true. A cough from Sandstorm drew his attention back to her, and he thought how ill she looked, her green eyes bright with fever. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, fine,” Sandstorm replied. “This fern dust gets in my throat, though. I’m going outside for some fresh air.” Rising to her paws, she shook some scraps of bracken out of her pelt and padded off.

  “How is she really?” Bramblestar asked Jayfeather, unable to stifle his anxiety about the ginger she-cat.

  “She doesn’t have greencough,” Jayfeather answered, “so she should be okay. But living in a cold, damp tunnel doesn’t help.”

  I wish we could go back to the hollow, Bramblestar thought. Aloud he mewed, “I think I’ll go check the water levels, and see if they’re starting to go down.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Jayfeather pushed a few stems of tansy into a crack and turned to Brightheart. “Stay and finish up here. I won’t be long.”

  Outside in the clearing, Bramblestar spotted Lionblaze and Daisy on their way back into the clearing with a load of moss. “We’re going to check the water levels,” Bramblestar called. “Do you want to come with us?”

  Lionblaze paused, his bundle of moss tucked under his chin.

  Daisy gave him a nudge. “Go on,” she urged him. “I’ll sort out the bedding.”

  “Thanks!” Lionblaze dropped the moss and bounded over to join Bramblestar and Jayfeather.

  Heading into the trees, Bramblestar caught a whiff of ThunderClan scent, and came upon Squirrelflight’s hunting patrol, already heading back to camp. Squirrelflight was carrying a thrush, while Dovewing and Thornclaw both had mice.

  “You’ve done well!” Bramblestar purred.

  Squirrelflight nodded. “I think the prey is starting to come back,” she mumbled around her mouthful of feathers.

  “Why don’t you come with us to check the water levels?” Bramblestar suggested.

  “Sure.” Squirrelflight dropped her catch at Mousewhisker’s paws. “You can take that in. And Thornclaw, you can lead the patrol out again. It seems like the prey’s running well, so we ought to make the most of it.”

  As the rest of the patrol headed for the camp, Bramblestar led the way down the slope with Squirrelflight at his side, and Lionblaze and Jayfeather just behind. He suddenly felt at ease, comfortable and happy to be with these cats he knew so well. The others seemed to feel the same, their tension and anxiety relaxing as they trotted through the trees.

  Scuffling broke out behind them with a mock growl from Lionblaze. “Die, ShadowClan trespasser!”

  “Get off, you great lump!” Jayfeather protested, though there was laughter in his voice.

  Squirrelflight whipped around. “Honestly! How old are you both?”

  The two brothers broke apart. “Sorry,” Lionblaze muttered, though his eyes glimmered with mischief. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I’ll get you later,” Jayfeather promised as they set out again.

  It’s almost like they are kits again . . . our kits, Bramblestar thought.
A pang of sorrow pierced him as he pictured Hollyleaf. She should be with us. I hope she found peace in StarClan.

  Reaching the top of the hollow, the four cats peered over, scanning the floodwater that covered their dens.

  “It’s just as deep as it was before,” Bramblestar meowed, discouraged.

  “I’m not so sure.” Lionblaze pointed with his tail to a tangle of soggy roots that stuck out of the cliff above where the nursery had been. “See those? They look as if they might have been uncovered recently.”

  Bramblestar nodded slowly, trying to remember whether the roots had been visible the last time he looked.

  “When we went down into the tunnels,” Lionblaze meowed, “you scratched on the floor to mark the water level. Maybe we could do the same here.” He frowned. “Though I don’t see how we could make scratch marks on the side of the cliffs.”

  “Maybe we don’t need to,” Squirrelflight put in. “We could go to the edge of the flood among the trees, and mark the water level there with sticks instead.”

  “Great idea!” Bramblestar agreed.

  Following the top of the hollow, the cats reached the water’s edge and paused for a moment, gazing out across the lake and the drowned forest. Bramblestar felt his paws sinking into mud.

  “Mouse dung!” Jayfeather cursed. He had taken an extra pace forward, and now the mud was creeping up his legs, hampering him as he tried to backtrack.

  Lionblaze leaned over and grabbed his brother by the scruff, hauling him back. “Use your nose, mouse-brain!” he hissed.

  Jayfeather shrugged him off, and raised each paw in turn to shake off sticky clots of mud. Lionblaze jumped back to avoid the shower.

  “The scents are all different,” Jayfeather mewed after a moment. “And the air feels weird on my fur.”

  For a few heartbeats longer Bramblestar stood still, contemplating his flooded territory and realizing how much had changed—perhaps forever. I wonder if we’ll ever hunt in that part of the forest again.