Bramblestar's Storm

  “Then maybe you should strengthen your own scent marks,” Blackstar retorted with a sideways glance at Rowanclaw. “If you can’t be bothered to mark your borders, it’s not our fault if we stray across by a few paw steps.”

  “A few paw steps?” Squirrelflight spat disbelievingly.

  Bramblestar raised his tail to silence her. He could feel his own fur bristling, and all his instincts were telling him to leap at Blackstar and claw the smirk off his face. Firestar wouldn’t have started a fight, he reminded himself. He would have known what to say to keep things peaceful.

  “We know what you’ve done,” he began. “What we don’t know is why. What reason—”

  He broke off as Ratscar, a skinny, brown elder, took a step forward. “What right do you have to question our leader?” he snarled. “Take yourself back to your own territory.”

  Bramblestar let out a hiss of anger, furious that a ShadowClan elder was trying to give him orders. Squirrelflight slid out her claws, and from behind him Bramblestar could hear low growls from Brackenfur and Cinderheart.

  “Ratscar has one paw in the Dark Forest,” Squirrelflight muttered into his ear.

  “And we decided to give those cats another chance to prove their loyalty, remember?” Bramblestar muttered back, forcing his fur to lie flat.

  Meanwhile Rowanclaw had shouldered Ratscar back into the group of ShadowClan cats. “That’s enough!” the deputy snapped. To Bramblestar he added, “Maybe we should both agree to strengthen the scent marks along that stretch of the border. That way we can be sure that no cat will trespass accidentally.”

  Bramblestar guessed that he wouldn’t get a full admission of guilt without unsheathing his claws. Reluctantly he nodded. “Very well,” he meowed. “But be sure of this: ThunderClan will keep a very close watch on the border from now on.”

  “And so will ShadowClan,” Blackstar responded. “Now it’s time for you to go. Tawnypelt, escort them back to their own territory.”

  “We don’t need an escort, thanks,” Bramblestar told him.

  “No, we don’t,” Squirrelflight agreed, just loud enough to be heard. “Do you think we’d stay one heartbeat more than we have to on your maggot-ridden territory?”

  “That’s enough!” Bramblestar hissed into her ear. Head and tail high, he turned and stalked out of the camp. Behind him he heard hostile snarls from the ShadowClan cats, and he took a deep breath to keep his fur flat and his claws sheathed.

  But as he and his cats headed for the border, Bramblestar heard the pattering of paw steps behind him. He swung around, claws out, but the cat who was pursuing them was Littlecloud.

  “Greetings, Bramblestar,” he panted as he halted beside the patrol. “How are Leafpool and Jayfeather?”

  “They’re fine.” It was Squirrelflight who replied. “They work together really well, and—”

  “Squirrelflight, that’s enough,” Bramblestar interrupted. “We have to go. There’s work to do back in camp.”

  “But I was only—” Squirrelflight protested, then broke off when she caught Bramblestar’s eye. “Sorry, Littlecloud,” she added as she turned to follow Bramblestar and her Clanmates.

  Littlecloud watched them go with a disappointed expression.

  “What did you do that for?” Squirrelflight demanded, trotting to catch up to Bramblestar. “Medicine cats don’t take part in quarrels between the Clans. Littlecloud was asking a genuine question.”

  “Yes, but we aren’t medicine cats,” Bramblestar pointed out. Part of him sympathized with Squirrelflight, but since the Great Battle, obeying the code that kept the warriors of each Clan separate had never seemed more important. We have to show that we can survive on our own. Being too friendly, too compassionate, is a sign of weakness to our enemies.

  “We may be forced to fight ShadowClan to make them stay on their own side of the border,” he continued. “This isn’t the time to be gossiping with their medicine cat.”

  “We can’t possibly start another battle now!” Squirrelflight protested.

  Bramblestar halted, gazing into her eyes. “We might have to. ShadowClan might have been our ally when we faced the Dark Forest, but those cats are once again our rivals for every paw step of territory, every mouthful of prey. The Great Battle is over, but that doesn’t mean the Clans are at peace with one another.”

  CHAPTER 4

  By the time Bramblestar and his patrol returned to the hollow, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting unexpected heat for so early in newleaf. When Bramblestar pushed his way through the barrier of thorns, he saw that his Clanmates were basking in pools of sunlight, sharing tongues after completing the early patrols.

  Most of the cats sprang to their paws as soon as they noticed the patrol had returned.

  “What happened?” Poppyfrost called.

  “Yes, what did those crow-food eaters have to say for themselves?” Thornclaw asked.

  “And how are they coping after the Great Battle?” Cloudtail added.

  Bramblestar didn’t reply until he had padded into the center of the clearing and the Clan had gathered around him. “There’s still a lot of damage inside their territory.” He answered Cloudtail’s question first. “But their camp looks more or less back to normal.”

  “The ones we saw are terribly thin,” Brackenfur put in. “I’d guess prey’s not running too well for them.”

  “Good,” Spiderleg meowed, while Cloudtail gave a satisfied lash of his tail.

  Bramblestar felt a claw-scratch of uneasiness at his cats’ pleasure in the problems of a rival Clan.

  “What about the trespassing?” Mousewhisker demanded. “What did Blackstar have to say for himself?”

  “The ShadowClan cats insist that they crossed the border by accident,” Bramblestar told him. “They advised us to renew our scent markers.”

  A chorus of indignation broke out. Whitewing’s voice rose above the clamor. “That’s mouse-brained! I renewed those scent markers myself yesterday!”

  “We all know that,” Squirrelflight assured her. “And ShadowClan knows perfectly well that there’s nothing wrong with our scent markers. But they’ll never admit that they trespassed.”

  “Then they need to be taught a lesson,” Thornclaw growled.

  Several of his Clanmates caterwauled their agreement.

  Bramblestar shook his head. “No cat will set paw over the border to attack ShadowClan,” he ordered, even though a prickling in his paws was urging him to disobey his own command. “Squirrelflight will organize extra patrols to refresh the markers, and that will make it clear to ShadowClan that we won’t tolerate any more invasions.”

  Ignoring the mutters of protest, he turned away. On the other side of the hollow, the bramble screen that covered the entrance to the medicine cats’ den was swept aside. Jayfeather padded out, followed a heartbeat later by Briarlight, who dragged herself forward with her front paws, her useless back legs trailing behind her.

  Bramblestar winced when he saw how frail the young she-cat looked. It was clear that she hadn’t fully recovered from the bout of greencough that every cat had expected would kill her. Her typical cheerfulness was muted, and she seemed to be using every scrap of her strength to keep her forepaws moving.

  “Briarlight!” Cinderheart bounded across to her. “Come over here, into this patch of sunshine.”

  The rest of the Clan huddled around her, the trouble with ShadowClan temporarily forgotten. Briarlight was popular; every cat admired her courage and was glad to see her leaving the medicine cats’ den after her long illness.

  “Look here,” Purdy meowed, padding over when Briarlight had flopped down in a sunny spot. A mouse dangled from his jaws. “Let’s share this mouse, an’ I’ll tell you how I once chased a dog out of my Upwalker’s garden.”

  “No thanks, Purdy,” Briarlight mewed. “I’m not really hungry. But I’d love to hear the story,” she added hastily, as the old cat looked disappointed.

  “I’ve collected some thrush fe
athers for your nest,” Snowpaw announced, bouncing up with the feathers in his jaws and one or two clinging to his pelt. “They’re really soft. I’ll go in now and make it all cozy for you.”

  “Thank you,” Briarlight called hoarsely after the apprentice as he dashed away.

  “You’re doing brilliantly, little one,” Millie praised her daughter, stroking the young cat’s shoulders with her tail. “It won’t be long before you’re feeling in top form again.”

  “I guess.” Briarlight sighed. She rested her chin on her paws and watched Millie walk over to the fresh-kill pile, where Graystripe was pulling feathers from a blackbird.

  Bramblestar padded over to Briarlight. “Is something up?” he asked. “Can I help?”

  Briarlight twitched her ears. “I doubt it.” She lifted her head and looked at Bramblestar with sky-colored eyes. “I’m fed up with being treated as if I’m special!” she confessed. “I just want to be like every other cat.”

  “What?” Bramblestar tried to sound amused. “You want to be like Purdy? Are you going to tell me a story? Or maybe you want to be like Spiderleg, too shy to speak to Daisy even though she’s been the mother of his kits? Or perhaps you want to be Dewpaw, and live in the apprentices’ den with your fur smelling of mouse bile? We’re all different,” he reminded her briskly.

  Briarlight let out a small mrrow of laughter. “I know,” she mewed. “But sometimes it’s really difficult to be Briarlight.”

  Bramblestar gazed down at her, feeling helpless. He turned at the sound of paw steps. Leafpool had returned to the camp. Her pelt was dusty and there was dirt wedged under her claws from tending the herbs by the Twoleg nest.

  “Everything’s tidy over there,” she reported to Jayfeather. “A little rain would help the catmint to grow.”

  “Jayfeather, I’m tired!” Briarlight called. “I’d like to go back to the den, please.”

  “But you’ve only been outside for a couple of heartbeats,” Jayfeather objected.

  “It’s not good for you to be shut up in there all by yourself,” Leafpool added.

  “I want to go back now,” Briarlight insisted.

  Jayfeather was opening his jaws to argue when Purdy, who had been sitting a tail-length away, nibbling at his mouse, brought the half-eaten prey over to Briarlight and dropped it at her paws.

  “You were going to help me with this,” he reminded her. “I can’t finish it. An’ I haven’t told you my story yet.”

  “You’ve hardly eaten anything!” Briarlight scolded him. “Come on, share the rest with me, and I’ll listen to the story.”

  Purdy flashed Bramblestar a knowing look as he tucked his paws underneath him and waited for Briarlight to take her first bite of mouse. “Well, there was this dog, see,” he began. “Nasty, flea-bitten creature . . .” He paused as Briarlight swallowed her mouthful, and nudged the fresh-kill closer so she could take another bite.

  You clever old cat! Bramblestar thought.

  Beside him, Jayfeather was listening to Briarlight’s movements with his head on one side. Grunting in satisfaction, he straightened up and turned to Bramblestar. “It’s full moon tonight,” the medicine cat announced. “We missed the last Gathering because the sky was covered with clouds. It will be interesting to hear how the other Clans have coped with these last two moons of cold and hunger.”

  Bramblestar looked around for Squirrelflight and spotted her chatting with Graystripe beside the fresh-kill pile. He beckoned her over with a wave of his tail. “Which cats should we take to the Gathering tonight?” he asked her.

  His deputy thought for a moment. “Cloudtail and Cherryfall haven’t been for a while.”

  “True, and neither has Cinderheart,” Bramblestar mewed. “I think we should take all the apprentices, too.”

  Squirrelflight’s eyes stretched wide. “All five? You must be joking!”

  “I’m not. Lilypaw and Seedpaw missed their chance last moon, and it wouldn’t be fair not to take the other three as well. It’s time they found out what goes on at a Gathering.”

  Squirrelflight let out a snort of amusement. “If they get across the tree-bridge without one of them falling in, I’ll eat my fur!”

  Bramblestar flicked her ear with his tail. “They’ll be fine.” Glancing around, he spotted Blossomfall and Thornclaw in the entrance to the warriors’ den. He felt his pelt prick with suspicion when he saw them with their heads together, and with a pang of guilt he swiveled his ears so he could hear what they were saying.

  “I hope I’m chosen to go to the Gathering,” Blossomfall murmured.

  “Me too,” Thornclaw agreed. “It’s been ages since we’ve seen the others.”

  Bramblestar’s uneasiness intensified. “I hope those two aren’t expecting to rekindle friendships they made in the Dark Forest,” he muttered.

  “We need to trust all our Clanmates equally.” Lionblaze spoke up from behind Bramblestar, who turned to face him. “What’s done is done, and can’t be undone.” His golden gaze was fixed on Bramblestar. “In the end, our Clanmates realized where their loyalties lay.”

  Bramblestar nodded, remembering that during the Great Battle, as soon as the ThunderClan cats had realized that the Dark Forest warriors were bent on death and destruction, they had all switched their allegiances and fought fiercely for their own Clan.

  He saw Squirrelflight’s gaze fixed on Thornclaw and Blossomfall, and knew that she struggled to forgive them. She lost so much in the Great Battle, Bramblestar thought. Her father, Firestar . . . and Hollyleaf, who was like a daughter to her.

  “I understand how you feel,” he whispered into Squirrelflight’s ear. “But if we treat them like outsiders, won’t that encourage them to start looking beyond the Clan again for support?”

  “Leafpool has volunteered to stay behind,” Jayfeather put in. “So I’ll be able to come.”

  “And I presume I can join you?” Lionblaze meowed. He half released his claws so that they flashed in the sunlight. “Just in case ShadowClan causes more trouble.”

  Bramblestar looked around at the three cats: his deputy, his medicine cat, and one of the Clan’s bravest warriors. But they meant far more than that to him. They are my family, he thought, even though they’re not my blood kin. These cats will always be the most precious parts of my life. He felt a jolt of grief as he pictured a black-furred cat with sharp green eyes. If Hollyleaf were still alive, my family would be whole once more.

  The sun had gone down when Bramblestar led his cats out of the hollow and down toward the lake. The horizon was still streaked with scarlet, and the surface of the water reflected the dying glow. Bramblestar looked up to see the moon, a huge silver circle, hanging above the trees in a clear indigo sky.

  Amberpaw let out a yowl of excitement as the lake came into sight. She charged down the slope toward it, with her two littermates hard on her paws. Lilypaw and Seedpaw glanced at each other as if they were far too mature for such overexcited behavior, then squealed, “Wait for us!” and pelted after them.

  “Hey, be careful!” Squirrelflight called after them.

  Amberpaw and Dewpaw skidded to a halt at the water’s edge in a shower of pebbles. But Snowpaw couldn’t stop in time. He splashed into the lake; his squeal of alarm was cut off as his head went under the surface and he vanished.

  “Fox dung!” Bramblestar spat.

  With a lash of his tail he raced for the lake, with Cloudtail, Snowpaw’s father, bounding along at his shoulder. As Bramblestar reached the edge of the water, he caught a brief glimpse of Snowpaw resurfacing with his paws flailing. Bramblestar plunged toward him and managed to grab Snowpaw by the scruff before he sank again.

  Digging his paws into the pebbly lakebed, Bramblestar carried the apprentice back to the shore. Cloudtail leaned over Snowpaw as Bramblestar set him down on solid ground. The other apprentices gathered around anxiously.

  “Are you completely flea-brained?” Cloudtail demanded. “If I were Clan leader, I’d send you straight back to c
amp!”

  Snowpaw coughed up a mouthful of water and struggled to his paws. “I—I’m sorry!” he gasped. “I didn’t mean to fall in. I think the lake is bigger than it used to be.”

  Bramblestar looked around. “He’s right,” he commented, noting how far up the shore the water had risen. It’s the end of leaf-bare, and we’ve had a lot of rain.

  “Look at the size of the moon,” Brackenfur put in, joining them. “The lake is always fuller when the moon is extra big.”

  Bramblestar stepped back to give his pelt a shake without splattering his Clanmates. “I won’t send you home,” he told Snowpaw. “But let’s have no more silliness, okay?”

  “Okay,” Snowpaw mewed. “Thank you, Bramblestar.”

  “You’d better run around to get dry,” Cloudtail advised. “And remember, I’m keeping an eye on you.”

  Snowpaw ducked his head briefly before scampering off with the other apprentices.

  “He’s no worse for his wetting,” Bramblestar observed. “I can’t be too hard on him. I remember how excited I was about my first Gathering, back at Fourtrees.”

  “You?” Squirrelflight let out a snort of amusement. “You were cool as frost!”

  Bramblestar gave her a friendly flick with his tail. “Not like you, then! You couldn’t see a thornbush without getting stuck in it. I remember—”

  “We don’t have time for stories,” Squirrelflight interrupted. “Are we going to the Gathering or not?”

  The ThunderClan cats followed the shoreline until they reached the stream that marked the border with WindClan. Bramblestar kept an eye on the five apprentices to make sure that they had no problems jumping across the steep-sided brook.

  “Wow, we’re on WindClan territory!” Dewpaw exclaimed when he landed.

  “What happens if a WindClan patrol spots us?” Amberpaw asked. “Do we fight? I know a great move!”

  “No, we don’t fight,” Cinderheart told her. “The ground three fox-lengths from the lake doesn’t belong to any Clan, so we can travel safely as long as we don’t take any prey.”