Bramblestar’s Storm

Chapter 7

Dawn had scarcely broken by the time Bramblestar and Jayfeather returned to the hollow. But their Clanmates were already awake and restless, pacing around the clearing with their fur blown the wrong way and their ears turned inside out. The trees clattered overhead as the wind gusted through them.

“I don’t like this,” Squirrelflight muttered as she joined Bramblestar in the center of the camp. “It reminds me too much of the time the tree fell, when Longtail died and Briarlight was injured.”

Bramblestar nodded, knowing that terrible day must be in the mind of every cat. A couple of fox-lengths away Dovewing was standing with her claws dug into the earth as if she were trying to take root. Her head was raised, and Bramblestar knew she was struggling to listen for falling trees.

Dovewing’s mother, Whitewing, emerged from the warriors’ den and padded up to her daughter. “This isn’t doing any good,” she murmured, giving Dovewing’s ear a gentle lick. “Come and share a vole with me.”

Dovewing hesitated, then allowed her mother to coax her over to the fresh-kill pile.

“I’m worried about Dovewing,” Bramblestar confided to Squirrelflight.

“I know,” Squirrelflight responded. “It was hard for all three cats to lose their powers.”

“But Dovewing seems to be suffering most of all,” Bramblestar mewed.

Lionblaze and Cinderheart pushed their way into the camp through the thorn barrier. Lionblaze looked ruffled, and was speaking over his shoulder to Cinderheart.

“It’s mouse-brained, trying to hunt in this!” he complained. “That branch from the beech tree whacked me right on the head!”

“Honestly, Lionblaze,” Cinderheart purred. “It was only a twig! You have to get used to being injured.”

Bramblestar sent Squirrelflight to round up the senior warriors. “We still have to send out patrols,” he began when they were gathered around him. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the blustering wind. “I don’t want any cat injured by falling trees—”

“Right,” Lionblaze muttered, rubbing the top of his head with one paw.

“But we need to restock the fresh-kill pile,” Bramblestar went on. “And I wouldn’t put it past ShadowClan or WindClan to take advantage of all this noise and chaos to cross the border. Especially WindClan, chasing those storm-blown white birds.”

Blossomfall nodded. “I’d bet a moon of dawn patrols that they’d have crossed our border after the bird we caught, if we hadn’t been there.”

“So who will lead a patrol?” Bramblestar asked.

“I will,” Squirrelflight offered immediately.

“And me,” Dustpelt and Ivypool added in chorus.

“I will, too,” Bumblestripe meowed. “Except… Dovewing, will you be okay if I leave you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Dovewing replied, though she was working her claws agitatedly into the ground.

Bramblestar could see that she was in too much of a state to be sent out on patrol. She was still trying to use her far-senses, even though she had lost them right after the battle. She feels like she’s deaf and blind, and she can’t bear it!

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Whitewing promised, leading her daughter back to the warriors’ den.

“Four patrols, then,” Bramblestar ordered. “Ivypool, take the WindClan border, and Dustpelt, take ShadowClan. Bumblestripe and Squirrelflight, your patrols can hunt. I’ll go with Bumblestripe.”

“Which cats should we take with us?” Dustpelt asked.

“Choose your own,” Bramblestar responded. “Have one cat in each patrol to watch out for danger—wind-blown branches, creaking trees, whatever. And if that cat says run, run!”

As Bumblestripe began to look around for other cats, his apprentice, Seedpaw, scampered up. “Can I come?” she chirped.

Bumblestripe shook his head. “It’s too dangerous out there for apprentices.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Bramblestar interrupted. “You and the others can help by clearing up any debris that gets blown into the camp. Tell your denmates I said so. You are responsible for keeping the camp tidy and safe, okay?”

Seedpaw lifted her head proudly. “We can do that, Bramblestar.” She dashed off toward the apprentices’ den.

The leaders of the patrols quickly found other cats to go with them and headed into the forest. Mousewhisker and Cherryfall had joined Bumblestripe’s patrol. Both of them seemed spooked by the wind, darting uneasy glances around at every paw step, and starting at each unexpected noise.

Bramblestar took on the duty of keeping watch for danger. Though the trees were thrashing in the wind, none of them looked ready to fall. But the noise of the gusts and creaking branches was so loud that there was little chance of picking up tiny prey sounds, while the strong gusts scattered scents everywhere.

“I think we ought to hunt in places where prey might go to shelter,” Bumblestripe suggested. “Like a bramble thicket, or maybe the abandoned Twoleg nest.”

“Great idea!” Cherryfall agreed. “Let’s go to the nest.”

Anything to get out of this wind for a bit, Bramblestar thought.

He brought up the rear as Bumblestripe led the patrol along the old Thunderpath. Now they were battling into the wind, their eyes watering and their pelts pressed flat to their sides. Every paw step was a massive effort, as if the wind was trying to pluck them up and send them crashing into the trees.

When the Twoleg nest came in sight, Bumblestripe and the others halted, staring in dismay at the fallen branch and the damaged plants.

“Leafpool worked so hard over that!” Cherryfall gasped.

“And she and Jayfeather will put it right again as soon as this wind drops,” Mousewhisker reassured her.

Bramblestar couldn’t share Mousewhisker’s optimism. His memory of Jayfeather’s ominous omen was too strong, and he glanced around with his ears pricked. But all the trees within sight had their roots firmly fixed in the ground.

Bramblestar followed Bumblestripe and the others into the tumbledown den. Cherryfall puffed out a sigh of relief as she stepped inside. “Sheltered from the wind at last!” she mewed, smoothing her whiskers with one paw.

“Keep quiet and listen for prey,” Bumblestripe ordered.

In a brief moment of silence when the wind dropped, Bramblestar picked up a strong scent of mouse and heard the patter of their tiny feet above his head, where strong, straight, Twoleg-crafted branches were supporting the roof.

Bumblestripe had heard it, too. “Up there,” he whispered, pointing with his tail.

“I’ll go!” Cherryfall lightly climbed the wooden slats that were fixed to the far wall. From the top she made a graceful leap onto one of the branches.

“Be careful!” Bramblestar warned.

The young she-cat stalked along the branch. Farther along, in the shadows, Bramblestar could just make out a flicker of movement that told him a mouse was there.

But as Cherryfall was readying herself to pounce, a powerful gust of wind hit the den. One of the flat stones that formed the roof was torn free and clattered away. Cherryfall jumped in shock and lost her balance. Yowling in terror, she fell, her body twisting in the air. She just managed to snag the bulky wood with one claw before she plummeted to the ground.

“Help!” she wailed.

“Can you climb back up?” Bramblestar yowled.

Cherryfall stretched up with her other forepaw, but she couldn’t grasp the smooth surface. “I’m slipping!” she gasped.

“Mousewhisker, go after her,” Bramblestar ordered. “And for StarClan’s sake, watch where you’re putting your paws.”

Mousewhisker bounded up the wooden slats and leaped neatly onto the end of the branch. Balancing carefully in the center, he headed toward Cherryfall.

“Come on,” Bramblestar meowed to Bumblestripe. “Let’s collect dead leaves, debris, anything to break her fall if she loses her grip.”

Together they scraped up the earthy litter that lay on the floor of the den, then darted outside to find more. Bumblestripe tore up moss from the side of the den, while Bramblestar scraped up a clump of yarrow that grew near the door. The pile was growing, but agonizingly slowly, while Cherryfall dangled above it.

Mousewhisker had reached the point on the branch where his Clanmate was hanging. He stretched down, trying to grab her scruff, but it was just out of reach. While he strained, he brushed against Cherryfall’s leg, dislodging her precarious grip. She uttered a wild screech as she fell.

Bramblestar darted forward just in time to break her fall. She slammed into him, knocking him to the ground, and his head cracked against the stone floor. Darkness sparkled over Bramblestar’s vision. Voices echoed around him, seeming to come from a long way off. Am I losing a life? he wondered.

Then the voices sounded more clearly and he recognized the tones of Cherryfall and Mousewhisker.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I let you fall.”

“Oof—all the breath’s knocked out of me! But I’m fine, I think.”

Then another voice, more distant, joined them. “What’s going on in there?”

Bramblestar sat up groggily. His vision cleared and he saw Ivypool peering through the entrance to the den, with her patrol clustered anxiously behind her.

“Cherryfall fell off the branch up there,” Bumblestripe explained. “Bramblestar was great—he broke her fall.”

Ivypool’s eyes stretched wide. “Are you hurt?” she mewed. “You should go straight back to camp and let Jayfeather check you out.”

“There’s no need,” Bramblestar protested, rising to his paws. The walls of the den whirled around him.

“And hedgehogs can fly,” Ivypool retorted. “You can barely stand. And don’t try to hide your paw from me, Cherryfall. I can see the blood on it.”

“It’s only a ripped claw,” Cherryfall muttered.

“It needs treating!” Ivypool hissed.

Bramblestar sighed. “Okay, Ivypool, keep your fur on. We’ll go back. But I still want that mouse caught. Mousewhisker and Bumblestripe, you can stay here and try again.”

Bumblestripe nodded. “We’ll get it, don’t worry.”

Bramblestar led the way out of the den with Cherryfall limping behind him. Ivypool and her patrol flanked them as they returned to the camp.

“Any sign of WindClan on the border?” Bramblestar asked Ivypool.

“Not a sniff,” the silver-and-white tabby told him. “As far as we can scent anything in this wind. We didn’t spot any more of those white birds, either.”

Back in the hollow, Bramblestar sent Cherryfall to her nest, then headed for the medicine cats’ den. Both Jayfeather and Leafpool were there, sorting piles of herbs.

“How am I supposed to keep my stocks tidy when the wind is this bad?” Jayfeather was grumbling as Bramblestar brushed past the bramble screen. “I no sooner put a stem down, when it’s gone.”

“We need to do this as fast as we can, and then shove everything down to the bottom of the cleft,” Leafpool meowed.

Jayfeather snorted. “And what do you want?” he asked, looking up at Bramblestar with his intense blue gaze. “Not another skirmish with WindClan?”

“No,” Bramblestar replied. He explained what had happened at the Twoleg nest. “Cherryfall has a ripped claw,” he finished. “I sent her to rest in the warriors’ den. Leafpool, I thought you could take a look at her there.”

Jayfeather’s eyes narrowed. “Are you the ThunderClan medicine cat, Bramblestar, or am I?” He sighed. “Okay, Leafpool. Better take some marigold, if it hasn’t all blown away.”

When Leafpool had slipped out carrying the herbs, Jayfeather faced Bramblestar again. “Go on, then,” he meowed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How do you know I—”

“You sent Leafpool away deliberately, right? Don’t waste my time, Bramblestar.”

“It’s about the omen,” Bramblestar began. “Was this the disaster we were warned about? I saved Cherryfall—does that mean I defeated the omen?”

Jayfeather looked thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “With all this wind, it’s impossible to think straight.”

“Then you can’t help?” Bramblestar asked.

“With the omen? No. But I can still help with your injuries. Sit still while I examine you.”

Bramblestar’s paws were itching to get back to his patrol, but he forced himself to wait while Jayfeather ran his paws expertly over him.

“You’ve got a bump on your head,” the medicine cat mewed. “And does it hurt when I do this?” He gave Bramblestar a sharp prod in the shoulder.

“Ow! Yes, it does.”

“Thought so,” Jayfeather grunted. “You’ll have some pain there for a day or two, but it’s not serious. A poppy seed should ease it.”

“No, thanks,” Bramblestar meowed. “I’ll put up with the pain so I can keep a clear head.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “Suit yourself. Tell me if you change your mind.”

Bramblestar thanked the medicine cat and padded out into the clearing again. Squirrelflight’s hunting patrol had just returned, but their jaws were empty.

“It’s hopeless!” Squirrelflight declared, her fur bristling. “I think the wind has blown all the prey out of the forest.”

We’ll go hungry tonight, Bramblestar thought. I hope Bumblestripe and Mousewhisker managed to catch that mouse. Slipping into the warriors’ den to check on Cherryfall, he found the young cat drowsy from poppy seed. Leafpool had put a poultice of marigold leaves on her injured paw and was stroking the warrior’s fur while she went to sleep.

Bramblestar retreated quietly and crossed the clearing to the elders’ den, where Purdy, his tabby pelt ruffled by the wind, was busy plugging the drafts with long tendrils of bramble.

“The apprentices should be helping you with that,” Bramblestar meowed.

“I can manage fine,” Purdy puffed. “I don’t need no young cats runnin’ around after me. They’ve better things to do.”

But Bramblestar could see that the old tabby was looking tired, and the brambles were catching in his matted tabby fur. Backing out of the den, he beckoned with his tail to Lilypaw and Seedpaw, who were collecting sticks and dead leaves from the floor of the camp.

“Go and help Purdy, please,” he meowed when they came bounding up. “His den needs wind-proofing, and then you could see if there’s any fresh-kill left for him.”

“Sure, Bramblestar,” Lilypaw chirped.

Bramblestar let out a purr. The two older apprentices are shaping up nicely. Catching sight of Daisy in the entrance to the nursery, he padded over to her.

“This wind is terrible!” the cream-colored she-cat exclaimed as he approached. “It blows dust into my eyes and fur, and I can’t hear myself think.”

“It won’t last long, I hope,” Bramblestar mewed. “Daisy, I wonder if you could sleep in Purdy’s den tonight? If anything happens, I don’t want him to be alone.”

Daisy twitched her whiskers. She knows what I mean. Another falling tree would tear the heart out of this Clan.

“I’ll go,” Daisy agreed, “but I probably won’t get any sleep, what with the wind and the stench of mouse bile. Honestly, I think every tick in the forest heads straight for Purdy!”

Bramblestar looked around for Squirrelflight, wondering if it was too late to send out more patrols. Spotting her outside the warriors’ den, he headed toward her, only to be intercepted by Millie.

“Briarlight is very worried about falling trees,” the gray she-cat told him. “She won’t be able to run away.”

Looking at Millie’s troubled eyes, and the way she was agitatedly working her claws into the ground, Bramblestar thought that Millie was more terrified than Briarlight for her daughter’s safety. “Okay, I’ll talk to her,” he meowed.

Millie led him to the fresh-kill pile, where Briarlight was sharing a rather shriveled shrew with Molewhisker.

“Where would you feel most comfortable sleeping?” Bramblestar asked her.

Briarlight shivered. “Somewhere there are no trees,” she replied.

Bramblestar figured that Briarlight might feel safest up on the Highledge, where the rock would shelter her. “You can sleep in my den,” he told her. “Come on, I’ll carry you up there.”

Briarlight blinked at him in surprise. “Really? Wow!”

“Thank you, Bramblestar,” purred Millie.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Bramblestar crouched down so that Briarlight could haul herself onto his back. Molewhisker gave her a boost, and Brackenfur saw what was going on and came to help too. With the toms steadying Briarlight on either side, Bramblestar struggled up the slope of rocks, wincing every time their paws dislodged small stones. Millie brought up the rear, and Bramblestar heard her gasp with alarm at each stone that pattered down into the clearing.

At last Bramblestar reached his den and settled Briarlight into his nest, pulling the moss and bracken closely around her to make her cozy. “You’d better stay with her, Millie,” he meowed. “Call me if there are any problems. I’ll be in the warriors’ den.”

“We’ll be just fine here, Bramblestar,” Millie responded. “Thank you so much.”

Bramblestar headed down into the clearing and found Squirrelflight still sitting outside the warriors’ den, her tail wrapped around her paws.

“Do you think we should take out another hunting patrol?” he meowed.

“In this?” Squirrelflight glanced up at the trees, still buffetted by the roaring wind. “No. We’ll just have to go hungry tonight, and hope things are better in the morning.”

Bramblestar was glad to agree with her. His head and his shoulder were aching, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and go to sleep.

“That was very kind, what you did for Briarlight,” Squirrelflight murmured as they slipped inside the warriors’ den.

Bramblestar felt embarrassed all over again. “It was logical,” he mewed with a shrug.

As the Clan settled down to sleep, Dustpelt and Brackenfur padded around to check each den, making sure that the branches were woven as securely as they could be, and plugging any new holes with moss and bramble.

“Don’t stay awake too late,” Bramblestar advised them. “You need your sleep too.”

Dustpelt didn’t reply. Bramblestar suppressed a sigh. He wondered if the tabby tom was deliberately working himself into exhaustion to have a chance of sleeping in his empty nest.

Though his mossy bed was comfortable, Bramblestar found it hard to sleep because of the noise of the wind. He couldn’t stop listening out for the creaking sound that would warn of a tree about to fall. But at the same time he enjoyed hearing the breathing of his Clanmates and seeing their furry shapes in the dim light. He realized for the first time how much he missed their company when he was sleeping alone in his den on the Highledge.

If I had a mate, I wouldn’t be alone, he thought, then gave himself a shake. There’s no point dwelling on that.

Finally Bramblestar gave up his attempt to sleep and crept into the clearing. He staggered as the force of the wind hit him, with a slap of rain that probed his pelt with icy claws. Recovering himself, he began to pad around the camp.

Purdy’s voice came from the elders’ den. “So, I says to the dog, ‘Listen, flea-pelt, this is my garden, so take your stench-ridden body out of here.’”

“Wow…” Daisy’s voice sounded so drowsy that Bramblestar thought she was talking in her sleep. “How brave of you.”

Moving on, Bramblestar paused underneath the Highledge, but couldn’t hear any sound coming from there. I hope that means Briarlight and Millie are asleep. He poked his head into the apprentices’ den and made out five curled-up balls of fur deeply asleep in their thick nests of moss and bracken. All were silent except for Snowpaw, who was snoring loudly. As Bramblestar watched, Lilypaw shot out one hind leg and, without opening her eyes, prodded Snowpaw in the belly. Snowpaw grunted and was quiet.

Bramblestar sighed with relief. The Clan is safe.

He still felt restless, so he headed out of the camp with a nod to Thornclaw, who was on guard duty. Even in the shelter of the trees, wind swept cold raindrops into his face as he picked his way through the debris on the forest floor. Stars and the occasional glimmer of moonlight appeared through the racing clouds. Uneasiness stirred in Bramblestar’s belly; in the flickering half light, something looked different.

Stumbling over fallen branches, Bramblestar made his way closer to the lake. The creaking and clattering trees made him jump, his senses stretched to the edge of panic. The air smells different, too. What’s going on?

He picked up the pace, desperate to find out if something was threatening his Clan. A tree stump loomed up in front of him; bunching his muscles, he leaped over it. A heartbeat later he landed up to his belly fur in icy water.

Bramblestar let out a startled screech. But I’m only halfway to the lake!

For a moment he floundered while the water dragged at him, surging around his legs. With a hiss he dug his claws into the ground and paw step by paw step hauled himself backward up the slope until he was clear of the water. Then he whirled around and raced for the hollow.

StarClan help us! The lake has flooded!