Bramblestar's Storm

  “You did all you could,” Millie told him. “At least now you know what happened.”

  “Yes,” Jessy added. “You don’t have to worry anymore, and you can grieve for him properly.”

  Frankie nodded, gazing around at the group of cats who surrounded him with looks of sadness, but he said nothing.

  “You should have told us where you were going,” Cherryfall meowed. “We could have come with you. I’d have helped you find him.”

  “Come on.” Leafpool gave Frankie a gentle shove. “Into the tunnel, and I’ll take a look at you. You can have some thyme leaves for the shock.”

  “I’ll bring you some fresh-kill,” Minty offered as the medicine cat led Frankie away.

  Once Frankie had gone, Jessy padded over to Bramblestar. “Thank you,” she mewed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Bramblestar dipped his head toward her. “My cats never have to suffer alone,” he told her.

  Jessy’s ears flicked up. “Is that true?” she pressed. “That we are your cats?”

  “For now,” Bramblestar replied, feeling a purr rise in his throat.

  Jessy touched her nose to his. “Good.”

  Bramblestar opened his eyes to see dawn light seeping into the tunnel. For a moment he felt as if he couldn’t move a muscle. Weariness from the long trek the day before, and the struggle to free Benny’s body from the drain, weighed down his limbs. He staggered to his paws and stumbled out of his nest, still half-asleep.

  “Hey, that’s my tail!” Jessy’s voice meowed.

  Bramblestar turned to see that the brown she-cat had dragged her nest next to to his, and was looking up at him with amusement in her golden eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “It’s okay. How do you feel? You had a tough time yesterday.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Bramblestar shook each leg in turn, his muscles protesting, then arched his back in a long stretch. “I need to get moving, that’s all.”

  Jessy followed him as he headed along the tunnel and into the cool dawn. The sky was a pale, milky blue with small puffs of white cloud. No rain today, Bramblestar thought gratefully.

  In the clearing most of his cats were milling around Squirrelflight, who was organizing patrols. “Cloudtail,” she was mewing, “you can go and check the border with WindClan. Take—” She broke off as she spotted Bramblestar and Jessy emerge from the tunnel, held Bramblestar’s gaze for a heartbeat, and then turned back to Cloudtail. “Take Mousewhisker, Berrynose, and Birchfall with you,” she finished.

  As Cloudtail gathered his patrol together, Bramblestar padded up to his deputy. “I want to lead a patrol out beyond the top border,” he announced.

  “I’ll come!” Jessy offered.

  Bramblestar was acutely conscious of his Clanmates exchanging glances. “Sure,” he replied.

  “Spiderleg and Amberpaw as well?” Squirrelflight suggested.

  “Of course,” Bramblestar agreed, wanting to be off as soon as possible. “Let’s go.”

  With Bramblestar in the lead, the four cats headed straight up the ridge and across the border into the woods beyond. The sun rose in front of them, sending shafts of golden warmth between the trees. The last of Bramblestar’s weariness faded away, and he felt ready for anything.

  “Are we looking for signs of ShadowClan trespassing?” Spiderleg asked as they crossed their own scent marks.

  “No,” Bramblestar replied. “Badgers.”

  “Badgers?” Amberpaw echoed, her voice rising to a squeak. “Wow!” She slid out her claws and let her shoulder fur bristle up. “Are we going to fight them?”

  Spiderleg gave his apprentice a friendly nudge. “You’d be better off running away,” he mewed. “You’d hardly make a mouthful for one of those huge beasts.”

  “I’ll never run away!” Amberpaw exclaimed.

  “Don’t tease her,” Jessy protested to Spiderleg. Turning to Amberpaw, she added, “Don’t worry. Bramblestar taught me some moves for when a badger attacks. I’ll show you if you like.”

  “That’s okay,” Spiderleg told her. “Amberpaw is my apprentice.” His tone was frosty, and Bramblestar could understand why.

  A kittypet trying to take over his apprentice’s training! But Jessy learns so fast, she’d make a good mentor one day.

  “We’re not going to fight,” Bramblestar meowed. “I’ve spotted a few traces, smelled a few scents, and I just want to make sure there isn’t a badger set anywhere we’re hunting right now.”

  Amberpaw was wide-eyed as the patrol padded onward. She paused beside every tree or clump of bracken to have a good sniff. “I’ve scented one!” she squealed, backing away from a tangle of gnarled oak roots.

  Bramblestar padded up to check. “No, that’s fox,” he told the bristling apprentice. “And it’s several days old. But well done for spotting it.”

  Eyes shining, Amberpaw went on sniffing, expecting at any moment to detect an entire den of badgers. But it was Spiderleg who found the first traces, a heap of droppings in the shelter of a bramble thicket.

  “They’re pretty stale,” he commented, backing away and passing his tongue over his lips in disgust.

  Bramblestar studied the scent for himself. “Three days old, at a guess,” he meowed. “And I think the badger went that way.” He angled his ears in the direction of the Twoleg nests where Victor and his friends lived.

  “The kittypets are welcome to them,” Spiderleg grunted.

  “That’s amazing!” Jessy exclaimed. “Bramblestar, can you really tell how old those droppings are, and which way the badger was heading?”

  “It’s all part of warrior training,” Bramblestar told her. “I think we should follow the scent for a while,” he went on. “Just to be sure that there isn’t a set nearby.”

  With Bramblestar in the lead, the patrol tracked the badger until they drew close to the ShadowClan border. There was no sign of a set. “We may as well turn back,” Bramblestar decided. “I don’t want Rowanstar to accuse us of trespassing again. We—”

  He broke off at a harsh squawk and a squeal of terror from Amberpaw. Spinning around, he saw that a rook had flown down and was attacking the small apprentice, stabbing her with its beak. Amberpaw bared her teeth and lashed out with one paw, but the rook was too big and fierce for her, pressing into the attack in a flurry of feathers.

  Spiderleg flashed past Bramblestar and flung himself on top of Amberpaw, hiding her from the rook. The bird battered at him with its wings and tried to fasten its claws into his back. Bramblestar let out a defiant yowl and hurled himself at the rook, his claws slashing at it. The rook squawked again and beat its wings to avoid his blows. Before it could gain height, Jessy leaped into the air and grabbed it. She fell back to the ground and rolled over, the rook flapping furiously in an attempt to escape. Its harsh cry was cut off as it went limp. Panting, Jessy rose to her paws and stood over her prey.

  “That was outstanding!” Bramblestar meowed. “Great job, Jessy!”

  Jessy’s eyes shone with pride.

  “We’re on a border patrol,” Spiderleg muttered as he scrambled off Amberpaw and smoothed down his ruffled fur. “Not a hunting patrol.”

  “All fresh-kill is welcome,” Bramblestar retorted. “Amberpaw, are you okay?”

  The apprentice tottered a little as she regained her paws, and checked herself for injuries. “I’m fine, thanks, Bramblestar.”

  “If that rook attacked us,” Bramblestar mewed thoughtfully, “there must be a new nest somewhere close by.” He peered up into the trees and spotted an untidy cluster of twigs lodged in the fork of a branch in a nearby ash tree. “Up there,” he murmured.

  Stealthily he began to climb the trunk, trying to stay out of sight of the nest until he could look down on it from above. A moment later he realized that Jessy was following him, leaving her catch at the bottom of the tree.

  Soon Bramblestar reached a branch from where he could see into the nest. A mother rook was sitting there; at the sight of Bramblestar she hal
f rose, revealing a small clutch of pale blue, brown-speckled eggs. As she settled again, her berry-bright eyes still fixed on him, Bramblestar slid out his claws, intent on more fresh-kill.

  “No, leave her!” Jessy protested. “She’s about to be a mother. You’d be killing her chicks as well!” Then she paused and gave her chest fur a few embarrassed licks. “Okay, I’m talking like a kittypet,” she admitted.

  “No, we’ll leave her,” Bramblestar meowed. As they turned to climb down the tree, he added mischievously, “We’ll come back when the chicks have hatched.”

  Jessy swiped at him, her claws sheathed, before leaping to the ground.

  Spiderleg, waiting at the bottom of the tree, looked unimpressed. “Are we going home, or what?” he grumbled.

  When the patrol arrived back at the tunnel, Frankie and Minty hurried forward to admire Jessy’s rook. Bramblestar looked around for Squirrelflight, to report to her about the badger traces, but before he spotted her Bumblestripe sprang up from where he was sitting beside the mudpile and raced over to him.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” the young warrior meowed. “I need to talk to you about Dovewing.”

  Anxiety sprang up inside Bramblestar. “Is something wrong?”

  Bumblestripe shifted his paws uncomfortably. “Follow me,” he mewed.

  At Bramblestar’s nod, he led the way along the tunnel and past the nests, into the shadows beyond.

  “You haven’t been going down here, have you?” Bramblestar asked, astonishment and fear making his heart thud. “You know the tunnels are dangerous!”

  “I know,” Bumblestripe assured him. “But Dovewing’s safe. You just need to see this.”

  Unpleasant memories of the drain and Benny’s body filled Bramblestar’s mind as he followed Bumblestripe into the narrow, dripping darkness. For all his efforts to concentrate, he kept bumping into the walls. His pads grew numb from the cold, damp floor and every hair on his pelt longed to turn and head back to the light.

  Then Bramblestar heard a faint meowing coming from somewhere ahead. “What’s that?” he asked sharply, halting.

  “Shh!” Bumblestripe whispered. “Listen!”

  “Hello! Hello!” The sound came echoing up the tunnel.

  Now Bramblestar recognized the voice. “It’s Dovewing! Is she lost?” he gasped.

  “No,” Bumblestripe replied. “Come on.”

  Bramblestar followed him, creeping forward until they came to a place where three tunnels met. A thin shaft of light pierced the darkness from a crack in the roof. Peering over Bumblestripe’s shoulder, Bramblestar could see Dovewing standing with her back toward them. Clearly she had no idea they were there.

  “Hello! Hello!” she called again. Then she waited in silence, her ears pricked, as her voice echoed away down the tunnels.

  “What’s she doing?” Bramblestar whispered.

  Bumblestripe glanced back at him, his eyes filled with pain. “She’s testing how long she can hear the echoes,” he told Bramblestar. “She—she wants to be able to hear again.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “Hello!” Dovewing called again. “Hello!”

  “But she’s not deaf,” Bramblestar murmured in dismay. I thought she had accepted that her powers had gone.

  “She thinks she is,” Bumblestripe responded. “Compared with how she was . . . before.”

  Bramblestar thought of Lionblaze, furious that he had to wait for his wounds to heal. Was it worth these cats having their special powers, he wondered, when they suffer such agony losing them? Only Jayfeather seemed untroubled, but he was still able to be a medicine cat, just like before. And I’ve never known what goes through Jayfeather’s mind.

  Bramblestar padded forward. Dovewing jumped at the sound of his paw steps, and spun around to face him. After one glance into his eyes she hung her head and shuffled her front paws on the stone.

  “Bumblestripe told me what you’re trying to do,” Bramblestar began.

  “It’s none of his business!” Dovewing’s tone was indignant.

  “Of course it is,” Bramblestar meowed. “He’s your mate, and he cares for you.”

  Dovewing let out a long, frustrated sigh. “It’s awful, not being able to hear anymore,” she told Bramblestar. “I feel as if I’ve let my Clanmates down.”

  “Of course you haven’t!” Bramblestar assured her. “It’s not your fault.”

  Dovewing’s eyes were pools of sadness in the dim light. “In spite of the powers the three of us had, the Clans were still devastated by the Great Battle,” she mewed.

  “But without you, we would have suffered much more.” Bramblestar wasn’t sure what he could say to comfort Dovewing, and he paused for a moment, hoping that StarClan would give him the right words. But no words came.

  Maybe StarClan can’t see me under all this rock, he thought. I’ll have to figure this out on my own.

  “StarClan gave you those powers for a good reason,” he went on at last. “You knew where the Dark Forest warriors were attacking. Lionblaze fought like a whole Clan of warriors without shedding a drop of blood, and Jayfeather united StarClan.”

  Dovewing shook her head. “So why have we lost our powers, if we needed them so badly?”

  “Perhaps because StarClan knows you don’t need them now,” Bramblestar suggested. “We will still face challenges, like the flood, but we can survive them using our Clanborn knowledge. You and Lionblaze can still hunt and fight as well as any cat. Jayfeather still heals us.”

  “Maybe you’re right. . . .”

  Bumblestripe stepped forward out of the shadows. “Dovewing, you’re not angry with me, are you, that I told Bramblestar?”

  “No.” But Dovewing brushed past him quickly and headed toward the camp without looking back.

  When Bramblestar emerged from the tunnel he spotted Jessy at the other side of the clearing, spreading moss out in the sun with Brightheart and Whitewing. As soon as she saw Bramblestar she rose and bounded over to him.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Those tunnels look pretty scary!”

  “Oh, they’re not that bad,” Bramblestar replied. “We’ve fought battles in them before.”

  “Really?” Jessy sounded impressed.

  Bramblestar was about to embark on the story of the trouble with Sol and WindClan when he saw Squirrelflight returning at the head of a hunting patrol. She was carrying a blackbird; Graystripe and Brackenfur both had mice, while Rosepetal was dragging along a squirrel.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Bramblestar mewed to Jessy. “I need to have a word with Squirrelflight now.” He padded over to the fresh-kill pile, where Squirrelflight and the others were depositing their catch, and beckoned her aside with a flick of his tail.

  “Is there a problem?” his deputy mewed.

  “I’ve just heard Dovewing calling in the tunnels,” Bramblestar explained. “She was trying to get her old hearing back. And Cinderheart is afraid that Lionblaze will take too many risks in battle because he can’t accept that he can be hurt now.”

  Squirrelflight riffled her whiskers thoughtfully, her concern clear in her green eyes. “It’s tough on them,” she meowed after a moment, “but I’m sure they’ll find a new balance in the end. After all, they see every day how their Clanmates have to live, and they both care deeply about the Clan.”

  Bramblestar blinked gratefully. “Thanks, you’re probably right. Look, I’m going to give the kittypets a battle-training session,” he went on. “Do you want to join us?”

  Squirrelflight gazed at him, her eyes narrowed with faint amusement. “Oh, no, I think I’ll leave that to you,” she mewed. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

  Bramblestar’s pelt suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. “Okay,” he mumbled.

  To his relief, the sound of cats brushing through the undergrowth distracted him and his deputy. He turned to see Millie emerging into the open at the head of her patrol, followed by Thornclaw, Ivypool, and Snowpaw. All four cats were bristl
ing with agitation. Bramblestar padded across the clearing to meet them, with Squirrelflight at his shoulder. Brightheart and Whitewing looked up from their task with the bedding, and the rest of Squirrelflight’s hunting patrol gathered around to listen.

  “Bramblestar!” Millie burst out. “We found fresh badger scent!”

  Bramblestar’s ears pricked and he felt an unpleasant hollowness in his belly. “Where?”

  “Across our top border,” Millie replied. “Just at the edge of ShadowClan’s forest. There were at least two of them.”

  “I’d better go take a look,” Bramblestar meowed. Glancing around, he beckoned to the two most senior warriors. “Brackenfur, Graystripe, you can come with me.”

  Jessy pushed herself to the front of the group. “And me!”

  “No,” Bramblestar responded. “Remember that you and Frankie and Minty are due for a battle-training session. Brightheart,” he added, turning to the ginger-and-white she-cat, “will you take that over for me, please?”

  Brightheart dipped her head. “Sure.”

  Jessy looked disappointed. “I’ll learn a new move, so you’d better watch out when you come back!”

  As she turned away, Bramblestar touched her shoulder with his tail-tip. “We’ll take a walk together later on,” he mewed. “Maybe up to the ridge at sunset?”

  Jessy’s eyes sparkled. “I’d like that!”

  Bramblestar headed out of the clearing, with Brackenfur and Graystripe flanking him.

  “You know,” Graystripe murmured as they headed for the ridge, “not all kittypets are bad news. After all, Millie was a kittypet. She settled down well in the Clan, and we’ve been very happy together.”

  “Yes, of course . . .” Bramblestar wondered where Graystripe was going with this subject. Besides, it seems harsh to be discussing mates when Brackenfur is still grieving for Sorreltail. “I’m worried about these badgers,” he meowed. “I wonder if they’re the same ones who attacked us before in the hollow.”

  “I thought we taught that lot a lesson,” Graystripe growled.

  The patrol crossed their own top border and headed for the woods beyond ShadowClan territory. As they drew closer, Bramblestar began to pick up the strongest badger scent he had smelled yet, mingled with the scent of terrified cats. He exchanged a glance with Brackenfur and Graystripe. “Something’s seriously wrong here,” he muttered.