Bramblestar’s Storm

Chapter 10

Bramblestar returned to the tunnel to find the cats spreading out bedding for nests. He could tell at once that their optimistic mood had changed to irritation as the reality of their homelessness set in.

“That’s not nearly enough bedding for Briarlight’s nest,” Millie complained.

“I’m sorry, but she’ll have to make do for now,” Daisy meowed, looking flustered. “We can get more later.”

Millie huffed with annoyance as she took away the bundle of moss and leaves.

Daisy whirled around when she spotted Snowpaw and Dewpaw play fighting on top of the pile she was trying to distribute, scattering moss everywhere. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “If that’s how you treat the bedding, you don’t deserve to have any.”

“It’s all wet and yucky anyway,” Snowpaw whined.

Daisy took a deep breath, as if she was trying to hold on to her temper, then decided not to bother. “You ungrateful little furball!” she hissed. “If you’re so miserable here, feel free to go back and sleep in your den!”

Snowpaw blinked up at her. He wasn’t used to hearing that tone from Daisy. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Purdy loomed out of the shadows with the other apprentices behind him. “Come on, young ’uns,” he rumbled. “Let’s get some moss, an’ you can show me how to make a nest. Then we’ll all bed down together.”

“Will you tell us again how you escaped from the hollow?” Lilypaw begged.

“I sure will!”

“Thank StarClan for Purdy,” Daisy sighed as the elder and the apprentices disappeared down the tunnel with their share of the bedding. “He’s so good with those young cats.”

“But he wouldn’t take any fresh-kill,” Blossomfall told Bramblestar, coming up to him with a worried look. “I did everything I could, short of shoving the rabbit down his throat, but it was no use. He told me to give it to the warriors instead.”

“We can’t have that,” Bramblestar meowed. “Thanks for telling me, Blossomfall.”

There were still some scraps of rabbit on the new fresh-kill pile. Picking up the biggest piece, Bramblestar padded down the tunnel until he found Purdy supervising the apprentices as they made their nests. Bramblestar dropped the rabbit at the elder’s paws. “Eat.”

Purdy refused to meet his gaze. “I’m not hungry.”

“Purdy, I won’t stand for any heroics,” Bramblestar insisted. “We all need to keep our strength up.”

The old cat turned away, gazing down into the darkness. “I’m not worth the effort of hunting,” he muttered.

“Never say that!” Bramblestar protested. “The warrior code is built on caring for our elders and kits.”

Purdy turned back to him and met Bramblestar’s gaze. His eyes were wide and distressed. “But I never served this Clan as a young cat,” he rasped. “And now, with Mousefur gone, things aren’t the same.”

Bramblestar took a deep breath and looked at Purdy with his head on one side. “Purdy, you’re being unfair. If you hadn’t saved us from the dog the first time we met, we might not have reached the sun-drown-place, and the Clans might never have made the Great Journey. And what do you think would have happened in the Great Battle, if you hadn’t saved Lionblaze when he was trapped with the dogs? ThunderClan owes you more than we can ever repay.”

Purdy shrugged. “Maybe,” he meowed with a flash of his old stubbornness, “but I still think you need to worry about the cats who need worrying about.” But he did sit down, tucked in his paws, and began to eat the rabbit.

As Bramblestar returned up the tunnel, Squirrelflight stepped up to his side. “What’s the matter? You look as if you bit into a vole and found it was crow-food.”

She listened while Bramblestar told her about his conversation with Purdy. “Hmm…” she murmured when he had finished. “I think I know what the problem is. Sandstorm!” She beckoned to her mother, who was arranging her nest a tail-length away.

“What is it?” Sandstorm asked.

“Purdy needs company,” Squirrelflight mewed. “And I don’t just mean those pesky apprentices. I know you could run the Clan without us—and so could Purdy, for that matter—but could you at least pretend that you want to spend more time with him? Don’t worry, we’ll still find things for you to do.”

Sandstorm’s green eyes glimmered. “I’ll do what I can,” she promised. “But perhaps the answer isn’t banishing more cats to the elders’ den, but getting Purdy more involved in Clan life. Why not put him in charge of bedding distribution along with Daisy?”

“That’s a great idea!” Bramblestar meowed. He headed farther up the tunnel to where Daisy was still struggling to share out the bedding she had collected. “You look as if you could do with another set of paws,” he told her. “Why not get Purdy to help?”

Daisy’s harassed expression brightened immediately. “Oh, I wonder if he would? I’ll go ask him right away.”

She headed down the tunnel and Bramblestar followed a few paces behind. Purdy looked taken aback when Daisy made her request. “Well… I’ve got my paws full keepin’ an eye on these young ’uns,” he meowed. “But I reckon if you really need me…”

“I do, Purdy!” Daisy assured him. “I’m so busy I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, then… you’d better show me what to do. You young cats behave now,” he added to the apprentices, “an’ I’ll tell you the story when I come back.”

Daisy padded back up the tunnel with Purdy at her flank, passing Bramblestar on their way to the heap of bedding. There was a proud gleam in Purdy’s eyes, and Bramblestar guessed there wouldn’t be any more fuss about taking his fair share of fresh-kill. Sandstorm, you know Purdy so well!

Hoping for a few moments alone, Bramblestar headed out of the tunnel and sharpened his claws on a nearby ash tree. They felt all clogged up with dirt and leaves, and he experienced a fierce satisfaction in seeing them gleaming again. I wish every problem could be solved by good fighting skills and a dose of courage, he thought, remembering how much simpler it had been to rip his claws through the pelt of a Dark Forest warrior. Coping with all these different cats is more exhausting than going into battle!

Night was beginning to fall by the time Bramblestar returned to the tunnel. His Clanmates were settling down among the sparse bedding, huddling together to share the precious moss. Before he went to his own nest, which Squirrelflight had prepared for him, Bramblestar set Cloudtail on watch at the entrance and Lionblaze farther down the tunnel beyond the last cats.

Now enemies can’t sneak up on us, and neither can the flood!

But the makeshift nests weren’t comfortable; the moss and leaves were damp in spite of Daisy’s efforts, and there wasn’t enough to go around. Even worse, a chilly draft whistled down the tunnel, lifting the cats’ fur.

“Can’t we go deeper into the tunnels?” Spiderleg asked Bramblestar. “That wind is freezing my ears off.”

“No, we can’t,” Bramblestar told him. “We can’t risk the river in the cave rising any higher.”

Spiderleg twitched his tail-tip. He didn’t argue, but Bramblestar heard him grumbling to himself as he curled up in his nest.

Eventually Bramblestar fell into an uneasy doze, and woke to see gray light flooding through the entrance. The Clan was rousing around him, looking tired and rumpled. But at least they’re all alive.

Bramblestar stood up and arched his back in a long stretch, trying not to wince as his muscles protested. At the entrance he spotted Squirrelflight with a number of cats clustered around her.

“We need hunting patrols,” she was meowing. “Sandstorm, will you lead one? And you, Mousewhisker… and Brightheart.”

Bramblestar relaxed from his stretch and stepped through the scattered bedding to join her. “We only need one border patrol,” he meowed. “I’ll lead it.”

Squirrelflight dipped her head. “Sure, Bramblestar. Which cats do you want?”

Bramblestar thought quickly. “Dovewing, Graystripe, and Thornclaw,” he decided. All levelheaded cats who can cope with whatever we find.

Venturing out at the head of his patrol, Bramblestar discovered that a light rain was falling, and a stiff breeze blew clouds across the sky, carrying the scent of the sun-drown-place from the lake. But the worst of the storm was over, and above his head he spotted an occasional glimpse of blue.

“We’ll avoid the WindClan border for today,” he meowed. “I need to think before we tackle that problem. Let’s go the other way and see what we can find out about ShadowClan.”

The patrol scrambled through the drenched forest toward the ShadowClan border. The water had risen to cover the old Thunderpath that led past the Twoleg den, leaving only a short stretch of the ShadowClan border still visible. Bramblestar ordered Thornclaw to renew the ThunderClan scent markers, but he couldn’t detect any fresh ShadowClan scent.

“They haven’t sent a patrol this way,” he remarked. “We’d better cross the border and find out what’s going on.”

“I hope they’re okay,” Dovewing murmured.

Briefly Bramblestar wondered why the young she-cat should be so anxious about their neighbors, then dismissed the thought. I’m anxious about them myself.

“It all looks so different,” Dovewing mewed as they took their first paw steps into ShadowClan territory. “I have no idea which way we should go.”

“We can’t get lost if we keep to the edge of the water,” Graystripe pointed out. “And it’s no use thinking we can keep to the safe ground three tail-lengths from the lakeshore.” His mouth twisted in wry amusement. “The safe ground is right in the middle of ShadowClan territory now.”

Looking around as he led the way along the waterline, Bramblestar tried to figure out where they were. On one side pine-covered slopes stretched upward. He could just make out the walls of the Twoleg den among the trees, and he wondered if the flood had reached the two hostile kittypets that gave ShadowClan so much trouble. On the other side stretched the floodwater, the gray surface interrupted by the dark pointed tops of pine trees. There was something familiar about the way the ground dipped toward the flood, and the shape of the bramble thicket ahead of them.

Bramblestar’s belly lurched. We’re above the ShadowClan camp! The whole of their hollow is filled with water!

The rest of his patrol had realized it too.

“So where are the cats?” Dovewing asked, working her claws in the soggy ground. “Something awful must have happened to them!”

As if they had heard her speaking, a ShadowClan patrol sprang out from behind a cluster of fir trees. Scorchfur was in the lead, with Pinenose and Ferretclaw just behind him. Ferretclaw’s apprentice, Spikepaw, brought up the rear.

“What are you doing here?” Scorchfur demanded, racing up to the ThunderClan patrol. “Get out!”

Bramblestar dipped his head, keen to avoid a hostile confrontation like the one with WindClan the day before. “We’re just making sure you survived the flood,” he replied. “We got worried when there were no fresh scent marks along your border.”

“ShadowClan doesn’t need ThunderClan to worry about us!” Scorchfur hissed.

“And we’re on our way to set the scent markers now,” Pinenose added, her black fur bristling.

For all their brave words, Bramblestar thought that the ShadowClan cats looked scared out of their fur, their eyes wide, their gazes darting from side to side as if they expected an enemy to pounce on them from out of the nearest cover. “I’m sorry about your camp,” he mewed, waving his tail toward the swirling water that filled the dip. “We’ve lost our home, too.”

“We don’t want your sympathy,” Scorchfur snarled. “We’re fine. And if you think we’re going to tell you where we’re living now, think again!”

If you’re fine, why do you look so distraught? Bramblestar wondered. Aloud he meowed, “I wouldn’t dream of asking. Just tell me one thing: Is Tawnypelt okay?”

“And your other Clanmates?” Dovewing put in quickly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ferretclaw gave a reluctant nod. “We’re all okay.”

“And hedgehogs fly,” Thornclaw muttered from behind Bramblestar, who gave him a warning flick of his ears.

“We want to cross your territory to check on RiverClan,” Bramblestar meowed. “Do we have your permission, as long as we stay inside three fox-lengths from the edge of the water?”

“I suppose so,” Scorchfur growled. “If it’ll get you off our territory sooner.”

With another respectful dip of his head Bramblestar turned to go, waving his tail for his patrol to follow.

“RiverClan won’t thank you for interfering!” Ferretclaw called after them. “You’ve got no right to act like ThunderClan is here to save us all!”

Ignoring the parting shot, Bramblestar led his patrol farther along the water’s edge to where the Twoleg half bridge had once reached out into the lake—now covered now by many tail-lengths of water.

“You know something?” Graystripe meowed, padding along beside Bramblestar. “When you asked about Tawnypelt, Ferretclaw said that all the cats are okay, but none of them ever mentioned Blackstar. If you ask me, those are cats who are mourning their leader.”

Bramblestar halted, staring at the gray warrior in alarm. “Great StarClan! Do you really think Blackstar lost his ninth life in the storm?” If a Clan leader has died, the rest of us need to know! But he was sure that he wouldn’t be welcome if he tried to find the place where ShadowClan was sheltering. He would have to wait for them to bring him any news.

Still following the waterline, the patrol emerged from the trees some way inland from the half bridge. The small wooden Twoleg dens on the lakeshore were completely submerged except for the pointed tops of their roofs. Because the ground was flatter here, the floodwater had reached a long way up the narrow Thunderpath. The smooth silver surface stretched ahead of them, covering everything that had been there before. It was impossible to tell what was happening over in RiverClan territory.

“We need to get some height,” Bramblestar muttered.

Clawing his way up a pine tree, he edged out along a branch until he could see to the farthest end of the lake. Where the RiverClan camp had stood between two streams, circled by bushes, there was nothing but shining gray water.

Graystripe scrambled up after Bramblestar and gazed over his shoulder. “StarClan help them!” he breathed. “Are they all dead?”

Bramblestar didn’t know. Leaping down from the tree, he gathered his patrol around him. “There’s no sign of RiverClan,” he meowed. “We have to find out what happened to them.”

Thornclaw looked doubtful. “That ShadowClan warrior was right. It’s not up to ThunderClan to save every cat.”

Bramblestar met his gaze. “If we can save one life, StarClan would want us to try,” he insisted. “We’ve been lucky in the storm. RiverClan hasn’t.”

Thornclaw shrugged, though he still didn’t look happy.

Bramblestar began looking for a way to cross the flooded Thunderpath. The water was too deep and swift moving to swim across close to where the RiverClan camp used to be. “We’ll have to head farther away from the lake,” he decided.

“That’s going to bring us close to the Twoleg dens,” Graystripe pointed out. “Are we prepared for that?”

“We have to be,” Bramblestar replied. “And if you ask me, the Twolegs have more to worry about right now than a few cats.”

The four warriors trekked along the line of the Thunderpath, as close as they could get without wetting their paws. When the Twoleg nests came into sight they were still and silent, with strange Twoleg things bobbing about in the water between them.

“This is weird,” Dovewing mewed, shivering. “But at least it doesn’t look like there are any Twolegs around.”

“Let’s find a way across,” Bramblestar announced, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The vast expanses of water all around them unnerved him, too.

“Do you think we should go back and get more cats?” Graystripe suggested.

Bramblestar shook his head. “We might not have time. We don’t know what we’re going to find in RiverClan.”

“And I’m sure ShadowClan would be so pleased to see ThunderClan marching back and forth across their territory,” Thornclaw added.

Bramblestar padded as close as he could get to the nearest Twoleg den. The water lapped at the wall, high enough that the den must be flooded inside, deeper than a cat could walk. The cats clearly weren’t going to get across to RiverClan territory without getting wet, but could they avoid having to swim all the way? Bramblestar spotted a dark line that seemed to surround the nest just below the surface of the water. He realized that it must be a fence stretching around the square of grass and flowers, like the fences on the border with the old forest.

“Look,” he mewed, pointing with his tail. “If we can reach that, we can walk along the top and get as far as the Thunderpath.”

“And then?” Thornclaw meowed.

“Swim across, and hope there’s another fence on the other side.” Bramblestar looked at his patrol, knowing he was leading them into danger. What if I lose one of them? But he also knew that he couldn’t turn around and go back to ThunderClan without finding out what had happened to the cats of RiverClan.

Not giving himself time to change his mind, Bramblestar waded into the water, then swam until he reached the barrier. As he had hoped, it was a wooden fence. He managed to claw his way up it; when he stood on the top, the water reached halfway up his legs.

“It’s okay!” he called, waving his tail for the others to join him. But the top of the fence was narrow, and with the water lapping and sucking at his legs, it was hard to keep his balance. The fence shuddered as the next cat reached it; Bramblestar stifled a screech of shock as his hind paws slipped, and only just stopped himself from sliding back into the flood.

Behind him he heard Thornclaw hiss, “Fox dung!” but when Bramblestar looked back he realized that the tabby warrior was still upright on the fence, and the other cats were managing to follow him. The water distorted Bramblestar’s view of the fence, but he figured out a way of putting his paws down in a straight line while he balanced with his tail. Step by step he made his way to the other end of the fence, overlooking the submerged Thunderpath.

When he reached it, he was puzzled by the sight of a flat red object under the water a mouse-length below where he was standing. Examining it more closely, he realized what it was.

“There’s a drowned monster here!” he exclaimed.

Thornclaw, who was just behind him, peered over his shoulder. “Creepy!” he commented.

Bramblestar looked down at the monster. If they jumped onto it, they could be several paw steps closer to RiverClan before they had to swim. But what if it wakes up? He studied the edges of the top of the monster carefully. There were no air bubbles, no signs of movement, nothing to suggest that it was still alive.

“Come on,” he called to the others. “This way!”

“Are you mouse-brained?” Thornclaw asked. “Jump on top of a monster?”

“It’s underwater, and I’m sure monsters can’t swim like fishes,” Bramblestar pointed out. Without giving Thornclaw time to argue, he launched himself onto the top of the monster. As he splashed down, the hard surface lurched beneath his paws, and panic stabbed through him as he fought for balance.

It’s alive!

But then the rocking motion steadied. Bramblestar stood still for a moment while his heart stopped thumping. “It’s fine,” he meowed breathlessly. “Follow me.”

Thornclaw, Dovewing, and Graystripe jumped onto the monster behind him, gasping as the creature swayed beneath their paws. It was impossible to sink in their claws and get a secure grip, so Bramblestar started moving as soon as Graystripe reached them, sliding his feet one by one across the slippery surface.

At the far end of the monster, it was clear they would have to swim across the deep water that covered the Thunderpath. But Bramblestar could just make out another fence leading away on the other side, past a Twoleg den toward the fields beyond RiverClan’s territory.

“Aim for that fence over there,” he meowed, pointing with his tail. “Swim!”

“Oh, StarClan,” Dovewing muttered, but she launched herself into the water and started paddling strongly.

Bramblestar reached the fence first and helped his Clanmates clamber onto it, water streaming from their pelts. The Twoleg dens here were joined together in a long line. The fence where they were clinging ran past the dens at one end, and by following it they could make their way around the back. Bramblestar led the way, finding it easier now to push his legs through the water and keep his footing on the narrow strip of submerged wood.

The cats sploshed their way past the Twoleg dens and stopped at the edge of the enclosed grass, looking out over a field to the place where RiverClan had once lived—but now it was just a stretch of shining water, with the top of a bush poking up here and there.

“It’s gone!” Thornclaw whispered. “Their whole territory is underwater!”

“There’s no way they could survive that much flooding,” Graystripe meowed.

“Wait!” Dovewing mewed. “You were at the Gathering, weren’t you? I wasn’t there, but Ivypool told me about it. Didn’t Mistystar say they’d already moved their dens away from the edge of the lake? She didn’t say where, but is it possible they were far enough away to escape the flood?”

Bramblestar nodded. “You could be right. We have to find out!”

He looked down into the field. Long strands of grass drifted on top of the water, like weeds in a stream. Bramblestar was pretty sure the cats wouldn’t be too far out of their depth now. The land had risen up slightly since the Thunderpath, and continued to rise until he could see a ridge of turf poking above the flood near the center of the field. He took a deep breath and leaped off the fence.

There was a mighty splash as he landed, but to his relief his paws struck a firm bed of grass, and when he straightened up the water only reached up to his belly fur. Without waiting for an order, the other cats jumped down beside him.

“Great StarClan!” Graystripe exclaimed. “It’s good to have my paws on the ground again.”

Bramblestar agreed, though it was still uncomfortable to wade through the flood and feel their paws sinking into sodden grass. He wasn’t looking forward to licking himself clean after this was over.

A stream ran along the far side of the field, though it had spilled over its banks, covering everything with a gray sheen. Bramblestar headed for the ridge that was clear of the flood. The water rapidly grew shallower until they were wading out onto the grass with droplets streaming from their fur.

“At last!” Graystripe exclaimed. “I thought I was turning into a fish.”

Thornclaw snorted. “You realize we’ve got to go through all this again on the way back? You’ve still got a chance to grow fins and scales.”

Farther up the ridge, as it curved toward the far corner of the field, there was a clump of low, leafless bushes. Bramblestar spotted a flash of movement underneath. He tensed, and stopped to taste the air. Beneath the now-familiar tang of the sun-drown-place, he thought he could detect RiverClan scent. Signaling with his tail for his patrol to keep close to him, Bramblestar crept forward. As they approached, two RiverClan cats rushed out of the thicket and halted in front of the ThunderClan patrol with fur bristling and eyes glaring. Bramblestar recognized the Clan deputy, Reedwhisker, and the black she-cat Shimmerpelt.

“Stop!” Reedwhisker growled. “What are—” He broke off, relaxing. “Oh, it’s you! We thought you were rogues.”

“Thank StarClan, you survived!” Dovewing gasped.

“Only just,” Shimmerpelt mewed with a shudder.

Now that he was closer, Bramblestar realized the bushes were heaving with mews and scuffling sounds. The scent of RiverClan was much stronger here.

“I’ll tell Mistystar you’re here,” Reedwhisker meowed, vanishing into the brambles.

A moment later the RiverClan leader emerged, with Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat, just behind her. In spite of everything, Mistystar looked calm and sleek, her blue-gray fur neatly groomed.

She dipped her head. “Greetings, Bramblestar. It’s good to see you. You must have had a struggle to get here.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Bramblestar agreed. “But we were worried about you. Is RiverClan safe?”

“RiverClan is fine,” Mistystar replied with a slight edge to her voice. “We knew the lake was rising, so when it reached our new dens we left and kept going until the water stopped chasing us.” Her voice shook a little, and it was clear that she and all her cats had been more terrified than she wanted ThunderClan to know.

“And Petalfur’s kits are okay?” Bramblestar pressed.

“Of course. Three warriors carried them. How are things in ThunderClan?” Mistystar asked.

“Not good,” Bramblestar told her. “The hollow flooded, but all of us survived, and we’ve found a safe place to stay for now.”

Perhaps it was Bramblestar’s admission that ThunderClan had lost their home too, but Mistystar seemed to soften. She padded forward to stand beside Bramblestar, and together the two leaders looked out across the flooded landscape.

“I wonder if things will ever return to how they were,” Miststar murmured. “The Great Battle, and now this… Doesn’t StarClan have the power to protect us anymore?”

“We can protect ourselves,” Bramblestar insisted. “The water won’t stay like this forever.”

“But what if it does?”

Bramblestar turned to face Mistystar. “Then we will all make new homes. We did it before; we can do it again.”

He saw warmth in her blue eyes. “Thank you for coming,” she purred. “It helps to know that we’re not suffering alone.”

Bramblestar touched his muzzle to the tip of Mistystar’s ear. “None of the Clans are alone,” he murmured. “Good luck, and may StarClan light your path.”

The RiverClan cats said good-bye with more friendliness than before, and Bramblestar led his patrol back the way they had come. There’s no way of going through the marshes to reach WindClan territory. It’s just floodwater as far as I can see.

They waded through the flooded field and with an effort, jumped back onto the fence. The water seemed even colder and murkier than before, whipped into splashy little waves by the breeze. None of the cats spoke; they just trudged along the submerged fence in concentrated silence.

Reaching the flooded Thunderpath, Bramblestar was bracing himself to swim for the drowned monster when a shriek split the air.

“Help! Oh, please help me!”