Bramblestar's Storm

  In addition to grief for Dustpelt, Bramblestar wasn’t looking forward to hearing what WindClan and RiverClan would have to say about the way ThunderClan had interfered again. He had no doubt that Rowanstar would claim it had been unnecessary and overconfident, and a threat to the independence of all the Clans.

  Yes, the badgers have been driven off, but at what cost to my warriors?

  A joyful yowl from the direction of the lake distracted Bramblestar from his gloomy thoughts. A moment later Jessy and Millie rushed out of the trees.

  “The water has gone!” Millie announced. “We can get into the hollow!”

  Several cats sprang up and crowded around the two she-cats. Their excited voices echoed around the clearing.

  “Is it really dry?”

  “We can go home!”

  “No more sleeping in that horrible, dark tunnel!”

  Brackenfur rose more slowly. “Calm down,” he meowed, thrusting himself into the enthusiastic throng. “It’ll take a lot of work to rebuild the old dens. I’ll come down now and take a look at the damage.”

  “We’ll come with you!” Snowpaw bounced up and down. “We’ll all help!”

  With the apprentices scampering ahead, all the cats ran into the trees and headed down the slope. Bramblestar fell in behind them, and found that Jessy had waited for him at the edge of the trees.

  “Isn’t this great?” she cried, bouncing up to him. “At last I can see your home!” Then she paused, tipping her head on one side. “Are you worried about how much damage has been done?” she asked more gently. “You don’t seem as excited as the others.”

  Bramblestar shook his head. “No, I know we can repair our dens. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

  Together they followed the rest of the cats down to the hollow. The lower slopes, where the water had just retreated, were still wet and slippery. Bramblestar watched Amberpaw lose her footing and roll down, tail and paws waving, until she managed to stop herself by grabbing a tuft of long grass. She sprang up again, slicked with mud but not at all bothered by the fall, and pelted on after her littermates.

  Bramblestar padded into the hollow and looked around. The thorn barrier at the entrance had been almost completely swept away; that would need restoring before they could feel safe. He was relieved to see that he could identify all the dens, though some of the branches and all of the moss and leaves that plugged holes in the roofs and walls had vanished. The nursery roof was sagging and washed-up branches blocked the entrance to the medicine cats’ den.

  Walking farther into the camp, Bramblestar had to pick his way among debris and a few surviving puddles. Scraps of bark, twigs, and leaves littered the ground, and there were even a few dead fish.

  “Look, a fresh-kill pile already!” Berrynose joked as he padded past.

  Poppyfrost wrinkled her nose and winced. “Not all that fresh,” she muttered.

  Brackenfur was moving from den to den, followed by Cherryfall and Mousewhisker as he inspected the damage. “We’ll need a lot of brambles to patch that up,” he warned, waving his tail at the roof of the warriors’ den, which had a jagged hole in the middle. “Dustpelt, do you think—” he mewed, then broke off, flinching. “Sorry, I forgot,” he mumbled. “I’m not sure I can do this without him.”

  Whitewing rested her tail across Brackenfur’s shoulders. “You worked with Dustpelt for many seasons,” she meowed encouragingly. “You know just what he would have done. And we’ll all help rebuild our home. You’re not alone.”

  Bramblestar watched the golden-brown tabby brace himself and examine the warriors’ den more closely. “We’ll need to find the longest bramble tendrils we can, to weave between the branches,” he told Cherryfall and Molewhisker. “Ivy is good, too. And then plenty of moss to plug the gaps. But first we have to clear out all the mud and mess.”

  “How do we do that?” Mousewhisker asked, ducking under the branches of the fallen tree to peer at the clots of sludge that covered the floor of the den.

  “Hmm . . .” Brackenfur narrowed his eyes. “There are plenty of dead leaves and ferns lying around. They should help to sop up the worst of the mud.”

  “Brackenfur!” Daisy’s voice called from across the camp.

  Bramblestar turned to see that the cream-furred cat had emerged from the nursery with a disgusted expression on her face. Cinderheart followed her a few paces behind.

  “Brackenfur, the nursery is a disgrace!” Daisy announced. “Cinderheart’s not having her kits in there.”

  “It’s not that bad—” Cinderheart began to protest.

  “It’s worse than the tunnel!” Daisy hissed. Turning to Brackenfur, she added, “You have to do something right now, so it’s ready for when the kits arrive.”

  “Okay, okay,” Brackenfur soothed her. “I’ve only got four paws, you know. But I’ll make sure the nursery’s ready; don’t worry. I’ll come over with you now, and see what needs to be done.”

  Satisfied, Daisy turned to head back to the nursery, and was nearly knocked off her paws by all four apprentices, who were giving Frankie, Jessy, and Minty a tour of the camp.

  “This is where we sleep,” Dewpaw announced, waving his tail at the wreck of the apprentices’ den. “You can go in if you like.”

  Minty peered over the waterlogged ferns that edged the den and drew back with a twitch of her whiskers. “Er . . . very nice,” she murmured. “But I won’t go in just yet, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, I know it looks awful now,” Amberpaw responded cheerfully. “But when it’s dried out, and the floor covered with moss and bracken, it’s so cozy and comfortable!”

  “Except when you stick your tail in my ear,” Snowpaw muttered, giving her a prod.

  Lilypaw slipped between the two younger apprentices. “That’s enough,” she mewed. “Come on, we have to show the kittypets the medicine den.”

  “Yes!” Amberpaw yowled. “Come on, it’s this way!”

  The apprentices streamed across the clearing, paws slipping in the thick mud that covered the floor. “Oh, yuck, I’ve got it all over my pelt!” Snowpaw squealed.

  The kittypets followed, their expressions torn between amusement and confusion.

  “That’s where the fresh-kill pile used to be!” Amberpaw explained, pointing with her tail.

  “No, it’s not, mouse-brain!” Dewpaw swatted her over the head with one paw. “It was over there!”

  The sight of them lightened Bramblestar’s mood. He watched them wriggling through a tangle of branches into the medicine cats’ den. Dewpaw got stuck, his hind legs waving in the air until Snowpaw gave him a push. Frankie and Jessy used their greater strength to shift some of the branches aside and improve the entrance.

  Bramblestar realized that Squirrelflight had padded up silently and was standing at his side. “We’ll be home soon, won’t we?” she asked.

  Bramblestar turned to her and nodded, seeing his own joy and relief reflected in her face. “I’m sure we will,” he responded, then added, “I wanted to talk to you about the badgers. It worries me that—”

  He broke off as Brackenfur came bounding up, looking energized and purposeful. “Bramblestar,” he meowed, “can I start organizing building patrols right away?”

  “Of course,” Bramblestar agreed. Glancing at Squirrelflight, he added, “I’ll tell you another time.”

  That night Bramblestar headed to his nest before the last traces of daylight had faded from the sky. Most of his Clanmates were still gathered outside. Though they were tired, their fur muddy and full of twigs, they were still bubbling with excitement about rebuilding the camp in the hollow.

  As he closed his eyes, Bramblestar could hear their cheerful voices drifting down into the tunnel.

  “Berrynose, I’ll never forget seeing you with that bramble stuck in your fur!” Poppyfrost purred. “You looked like a hedgehog!”

  “It patched a good section of the nursery roof,” Berrynose retorted good-humoredly.

  “I thought Snowpaw had tu
rned into a brown cat,” his mentor, Ivypool, meowed. “It looked like he was trying to clear all the mud out of the camp with his pelt.”

  “And Molewhisker,” Rosepetal teased, “remember that you have to get off the branch before Brackenfur puts it in place. You nearly ended up as part of the warriors’ den.”

  Bramblestar drifted into sleep, lulled by the chatter. He found himself standing in the hollow on firm, dry ground, not the thick layer of mud that covered it now. Moonlight washed over his fur as he gazed around at the restored camp. The dens were as good as new, strong and safe and well constructed, and a thick barrier of thorns stretched across the entrance. But there was no sign of any of his Clanmates.

  From the corner of his eye Bramblestar spotted a flash of flame, and turned to see Firestar pushing his way into the camp. He bounded across to his former leader and dipped his head.

  “Firestar!” he meowed. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “It’s good to be here,” Firestar responded. “Thank you for returning our Clan to its home.”

  “It hasn’t happened yet,” Bramblestar reminded him.

  “No, but it will.” Firestar’s green eyes glowed. “You have done well.”

  “Really?” Bramblestar found that hard to believe. “Even by fighting ShadowClan’s battle for them?”

  “You did what you thought was right,” Firestar told him.

  No, Bramblestar thought. I did what I thought you would think was right.

  “Those badgers could have caused trouble for ThunderClan,” Firestar went on.

  “I don’t know that for sure,” Bramblestar meowed. “Rowanstar is angry with me.”

  Firestar let out a long sigh. “So few cats understand how important it is for us to share dangers between all the Clans.”

  Bramblestar was puzzled. How could that be reconciled with keeping each Clan safe and independent, the way the Clans had lived for season upon season? “But each Clan leader is responsible for their own Clan, right?” he checked. “It’s not up to us to make decisions for other Clans.”

  Firestar fixed him with an intense green gaze. He sat down in the middle of the clearing and gestured with his tail for Bramblestar to sit beside him. “There’s something you need to know,” he began. “When I had been leader of ThunderClan for just a few moons, Bluestar came to me and told me about a terrible mistake that the four Clans had made a long time ago: that they allowed a fifth Clan to leave the forest.”

  Bramblestar stared at him in astonishment. “A fifth Clan? But there isn’t a fifth Clan!”

  “Once there was,” Firestar continued. “They were called SkyClan, and their territory in the old forest lay next to ThunderClan’s. Their skill was hunting aboveground in the trees, snatching birds from the air. They were strong and well respected. But the Twolegs began to build more dens, and they destroyed SkyClan’s territory to make room for them.”

  Every hair on Bramblestar’s pelt prickled. “Just like the Twolegs did to us,” he breathed, “when the old forest was cut down and we had to make the Great Journey to find a new home by the lake.”

  Firestar nodded. “Exactly like that. SkyClan’s leader, Cloudstar, asked the other Clan leaders to change the borders of their territories so that they would still have somewhere to live. The other leaders refused. SkyClan had no choice but to leave the forest and travel until they found somewhere else they could settle.”

  “What happened to them then?” Bramblestar felt like a kit begging the elders for a story.

  “They made their home in a gorge where the forest river rises. But there were dangers that they never expected, and SkyClan almost died out, until cats began to settle in the gorge again, and StarClan sent me and Sandstorm to help them form a new SkyClan.”

  “So that’s where you went!” Bramblestar exclaimed. “That time you disappeared for moons and left Graystripe to lead the Clan.”

  Firestar dipped his head. “That’s right. And it wasn’t easy, let me tell you.”

  Bramblestar’s head spun. How had the Clans kept this massive secret for so long? “What about SkyClan now? Did they survive?”

  “I don’t know,” Firestar admitted. “They have their own warrior ancestors, and I can’t see them from my StarClan, though Cloudstar once visited me here. But I have faith in Leafstar, the cat who became their leader, and her deputy, Sharpclaw, and their medicine cat, Echosong. And if they follow the warrior code, it will protect them.” He paused for a moment, memories flickering in his eyes like minnows in a stream. “The four leaders who drove SkyClan out realized that they had been wrong,” he meowed. “They came to Leafstar and each gave her one of her nine lives. It was more than an apology: It was an acknowledgment that one Clan cannot survive alone, that we owe the others a debt that is greater than we know. And that proved to me what I’ve known all along: that the safety of each Clan depends on all the others.”

  Bramblestar began to understand why Firestar had told him this story, but he didn’t dare to interrupt.

  “Fighting the badgers was your chance to do the right thing,” Firestar told him, “to save ShadowClan from being driven out of their territory altogether. The Clans traveled a long way to find this home. We can’t lose it now. It’s not up to any one Clan to protect the others; all of us have to fight together to survive.”

  “Like in the Great Battle,” Bramblestar meowed.

  “Exactly!”

  “Tell me more about SkyClan,” Bramblestar went on, his pelt pricking with curiosity about these cats he had never heard of before. “Did they—?”

  He broke off as the sun began to rise above the treetops, spilling warm light into the hollow. Firestar’s flame-colored form was already beginning to fade.

  “There is one other cat who knows what happened with SkyClan,” he mewed; the words seemed to come from an immense distance as the last glimmer of his green eyes vanished. “If you have any more questions, ask her.”

  Bramblestar woke to find his cats stirring around him, heading out of the tunnel in their eagerness to begin the new day. Firestar’s last words echoed in his ears.

  I know which cat he meant.

  Following his Clanmates out of the tunnel, he padded over to Squirrelflight, who was starting to organize the first patrols. “Don’t put me in a patrol just yet,” he meowed. “There’s something I have to do first.”

  Squirrelflight nodded. “No problem.”

  A paw poked Bramblestar in the side, and he turned to see Jessy. “Hey,” she protested. “I thought we were going hunting this morning.”

  Bramblestar dipped his head. “I know. But this is important. We’ll go later, okay?”

  Jessy gave him a light flick with her tail, and bounded off to join Frankie, Cloudtail, and Millie. Bramblestar watched her go, then went to look for Sandstorm. He found her sitting in a patch of sunlight near the mudpile. Jayfeather had just dropped a spray of leaves at her paws.

  “But I’m perfectly capable of joining a patrol,” Sandstorm was objecting. “I’m hardly coughing at all.”

  “You’re capable when I say you are,” Jayfeather retorted. “Now eat the tansy and get some rest.”

  Sandstorm sighed, rolling her eyes, but she licked up the leaves without any more argument. Bramblestar padded up as Jayfeather disappeared into the tunnel again.

  “Firestar visited me in a dream last night,” he announced as he sat down beside the pale ginger she-cat.

  Joy glowed in Sandstorm’s green eyes. “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I dream about Firestar all the time, but it’s not the same as a real visit.”

  “I know he’s watching over you,” Bramblestar assured her. “He sent me to talk to you.”

  “Oh?” Sandstorm’s whiskers twitched. “What about?”

  “In my dream, he told me about SkyClan. I wanted to know more, and he said that you were the cat I should ask.”

  “SkyClan . . . oh, yes.” Sandstorm reached out with her forepaws to give herself a good stretch. “That was
an amazing time! So scary . . . but it was fun, too, and what we did was important.”

  “Tell me about it,” Bramblestar urged her.

  Sandstorm described how the former SkyClan leader, Cloudstar, had visited Firestar in a dream and given him the task of traveling upriver to discover the remains of his Clan. “When we came to the gorge where the river rises, it seemed empty at first. But we learned that an old cat came to sit on the rocks at every full moon to watch the stars and speak to the spirits of his ancestors. His name was Sky.”

  “And he was the last surviving cat of SkyClan?” Bramblestar asked, fascinated.

  Sandstorm shook her head. “No, but his mother’s mother was born into the Clan. She passed down the warrior code to her daughter, who passed it down to Sky.”

  “And he kept the memories alive . . .” Bramblestar murmured. “What happened next?”

  “Firestar thought that all he needed to do was find SkyClan, but the old cat Sky didn’t agree. He wanted to see SkyClan restored. . . . So that’s what we did, though it wasn’t as easy as that makes it sound.”

  “Where did you find enough cats?”

  “There were rogues living in the forest around the gorge. We had to rescue one she-cat and her kits from a Twoleg who was starving them. We scared him out of his fur! And there were two young kittypets who became our first apprentices: Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw. They were a pawful, and no mistake! They took Firestar into the Twolegplace nearby to see if any other kittypets wanted to join.”

  “And did they?” Bramblestar asked, surprised.

  “Oh, yes.” Sandstorm’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Echosong, who became the medicine cat . . . She was a kittypet.”

  Bramblestar blinked in surprise.

  “In the end,” Sandstorm went on, “we discovered what had destroyed the original SkyClan. There was a huge Twoleg den that was full of rats. The rats started attacking the new Clan in the gorge, so we had to go and fight them.” For a heartbeat her gaze became shadowed. “Firestar lost a life there.”