Bramblestar’s Storm

Chapter 14

Another gray dawn found the grief-stricken Clan outside the tunnel, grouped around Seedpaw’s body as they kept vigil for her. At length, as the light strengthened, Purdy rose stiffly to his paws. “It’s time to bury her,” he announced.

“I’ll help you,” Daisy meowed. “I know it’s a duty of the elders, but you can’t do it all by yourself, Purdy.”

“I’ll help too,” Brackenfur added from where he sat at Seedpaw’s head, with Lilypaw pressed close to his side.

The three cats picked up Seedpaw’s body between them and gently carried her away into the trees. Sandstorm padded over to Lilypaw and sat beside her, giving her ears a comforting lick. Bramblestar saw that the little cat couldn’t stop shivering.

Beckoning Leafpool, he asked, “Is Lilypaw ill?”

“I’m not sure,” Leafpool replied, her eyes sorrowful as she gazed at the apprentice. “It may be the onset of whitecough, or it may just be grief. It’s so hard when we can’t get properly dry and warm.”

“At least yesterday’s patrol over the border brought back a decent haul of fresh-kill,” Thornclaw put in. “I’ll lead another patrol there today, if you like.”

“Good idea,” meowed Squirrelflight. “I’ll go too.”

“We have to find some dry bedding,” Bramblestar declared. His pelt still prickled with concern for Lilypaw, but he was aware that it was his duty to pull the Clan out of its grief and get back to normal. And if he could find the bedding they needed, it would help Lilypaw, as well as Briarlight and the other cats with whitecough.

“Where are you going to look?” Spiderleg asked. “Even if it’s not underwater, it’s soaked through. There’s no sun to dry anything out, and it looks like it’s going to rain again soon.”

“Spiderleg’s right,” Daisy mewed. “I’ve looked everywhere for moss, feathers, dry leaves, even inside hollow trees, and there’s nothing.”

Dovewing took a pace forward, her eyes shining. “What about those pelts in the Twoleg dens, Bramblestar?” she mewed. “Remember? They were dry, and really soft, too.”

For a moment Bramblestar was struck silent by Dovewing’s extraordinary suggestion. Raid Twoleg dens for bedding? Then he realized that she could be right. This could be our only chance of getting dry bedding to help Briarlight—and stop the rest of the Clan from getting whitecough. But a sense of dread stirred in him, as if he were looking down into dark water. Can I really justify taking cats back into that dangerous, flooded place?

“I’ll go if you want, Bramblestar,” Graystripe offered, stepping up to his shoulder.

His Clanmate’s courage made up Bramblestar’s mind. “No, you’ve done it once,” he meowed. “This time I’ll take Poppyfrost, Lionblaze, and Cinderheart, if they’re willing.”

The three warriors nodded, looking somber.

“You’ve done it once, too, Bramblestar,” Squirrelflight pointed out with an edge to her tone.

“And I’m going to do it again,” he snapped.

Squirrelflight snorted. “Being Clan leader isn’t just about being the bravest, you mouse-brained idiot.”

Bramblestar dug his claws into the wet ground. “I’m going,” he insisted stubbornly. “I can’t ask my Clanmates to do something that I wouldn’t do myself. Come on, the sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back.”

Refusing to argue anymore, he set out with his patrol to cross ShadowClan territory. Clouds surged black and ominous above their heads, though so far that day there had been no more rain.

“I wonder where all the ShadowClan cats are,” Lionblaze meowed as they headed through the deserted pinewoods. “I’d have expected to see a dawn patrol by now.”

“There are no fresh scents, either,” Poppyfrost added.

“Maybe they’ve stayed in their camp to welcome Rowanstar back from the Moonpool,” Bramblestar suggested.

A stab of fellowship for the new ShadowClan leader pierced through Bramblestar as he remembered how awe-inspiring his own nine-lives ceremony had been. I had to deal with the aftermath of the Great Battle, and Rowanstar will have to deal with the flood, he thought. Great StarClan, let the water go down soon, so we can all get back to normal!

When they emerged from the trees near the small Thunderpath, Lionblaze and the others stood aghast to see how far the floodwater stretched.

“Where’s RiverClan?” Cinderheart asked, her voice shaking.

“Farther away from the lake,” Bramblestar replied, reminding her how he and his patrol had located the RiverClan cats on their first expedition. “They’re okay, for now at least.”

Though he said nothing to the others, Bramblestar was alarmed to see that the water level was no lower. If anything, the flood was a bit deeper. We’ll have to be extra careful, he told himself, pushing down the stirring of fear in his belly.

He led his three Clanmates alongside the Thunderpath and showed them how they could cross using the top of the drowned monster.

“I never thought monsters could be useful for anything!” Lionblaze muttered as he launched himself into the water.

On the other side, Bramblestar took the lead along the fences until he spotted the Twoleg den where they had found Minty. He was thankful to see that the entrance was still open. “This way,” he meowed, readying himself for the awkward leap from the fence. “See that thing wedging the piece of wood ajar?” he added. “Graystripe says it’s called a chair. We have to jump onto it, and then we can get inside.”

“What should we do if we fall in?” Poppyfrost asked nervously.

“Swim,” Bramblestar told her, pushing off with a massive effort and landing with all four paws safely on the flat, wooden surface of the chair.

He stepped aside to make room for Lionblaze to follow, and then Poppyfrost. The tortoiseshell she-cat misjudged the distance, and though her forepaws struck the Twoleg chair, her hind paws slid into the water. For a moment she thrashed helplessly, until Lionblaze grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her on.

“Thanks!” she gasped. “I never want to see any more water as long as I live!”

Once Cinderheart had made the jump safely, Bramblestar led the way to the upper level of the den. His pelt stood on end along his spine, even though there was no sign of Twolegs, and he saw that his companions were equally wary. All their coats were bristling as they gazed around at the unfamiliar Twoleg things, and they set their paws down as lightly as if they were stalking mice.

Cinderheart was the only one of them to show anything but alarm and the need to get out of there as soon as possible. Her eyes looked ready to pop out as she studied their surroundings. “Can’t we explore a bit?” she begged. “I’ve never been inside a Twoleg den before.”

“No, we can’t,” Lionblaze responded before Bramblestar had the chance to reply. “Let’s just do what we’ve come to do.”

The Twoleg pelts were still heaped on the floor on the upper level, where the first patrol had found them.

“These are great!” Poppyfrost purred, kneading one with her forepaws. “So soft and dry, and the whole Clan could sleep on just one of them.”

Bramblestar sniffed warily at the pelts. “They smell like sheep,” he muttered. “But I can’t imagine how sheep pelts would get inside a Twoleg den.” Actually, I don’t want to imagine…

Struggling with the heavy folds, the cats dragged the pelts down to the lower level, as far as the edge of the flood.

“How are we going to carry these across the water?” Cinderheart asked. “We don’t want to get them wet.”

Bramblestar thought for a moment. He pictured Minty in her tub and glanced around, looking for something the same size and shape. Finally he spotted a round black object, lying on its side near the edge of the water. It had a weird smell, but when he tested it with his teeth it felt strong and slightly chewy.

“It seems okay,” he commented. “Let’s see if it floats.”

With Poppyfrost helping, he dragged the black tub to the edge of the water and pushed it in. It bobbed on the surface, and when Bramblestar stretched out his neck to peer inside, he couldn’t see any leaks.

“It’s fine,” he announced. “Let’s get the pelts inside. We should be able to push it across the water and keep them dry.”

It was an awkward job to haul the tub out again and pack the pelts inside. By now the strain of working inside a Twoleg den was beginning to get to Bramblestar. His skin crawled with nervousness, though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of. The rest of the patrol felt the same, he could tell, their ears laid back and their tails twitching. Every cat jumped at the slightest sound.

“We can only fit one pelt in here,” Lionblaze meowed, kneading at the fluffy folds with his paws to pack it down harder.

“Then let’s leave the others and go,” Bramblestar responded. He was beginning to wonder if this mission had been a good idea. I just want to get back to camp.

Nudging the tub with their paws, the cats managed to make their way across the kitchen to the den’s entrance. Lionblaze took the lead to jump onto the fence, with Poppyfrost and Cinderheart following.

I guess I get to swim again, Bramblestar thought with a sigh. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the water and began swimming behind the tub, pushing it along with his nose. The current tugged at him, while unseen things below the surface swiped at his furiously paddling legs. He had to push away the hideous memory of Lilypaw trapped in the ivy around the oak tree, and Seedpaw’s pathetic drowned body lying above the waterline.

Bramblestar saw that the ground rose steeply on the other side of the Thunderpath, just beyond the row of Twoleg dens, so he pushed the tub in that direction, toward the closest stretch of dry ground. His Clanmates kept pace with him along fences and across the roofs of drowned monsters.

I wish I’d never agreed to this, Bramblestar told himself as he struggled to keep his aching legs moving. I hate swimming, and I can’t see why RiverClan cats would ever want to get their paws wet.

At last he made it to the sloping ground and staggered out of the water onto the slippery, muddy grass. While he stood there, panting, his Clanmates raced over and helped him to haul up the tub that held the pelt. It was awkward to move, and tipped to one side, spilling part of the pelt out onto the ground.

“Now it’s all muddy,” Poppyfrost murmured, looking disappointed as she tried to brush off the sticky streaks.

“It’s still more or less dry,” Lionblaze pointed out, shoving the folds back into the tub as fast as he could. “It’ll be fine.”

“We did it!” Cinderheart exclaimed, her eyes glowing.

Glancing around, Bramblestar realized they still had a stretch of water to cross before they could reach the lakeside and follow the shore back to their camp. At least we can keep our paws dry for a while on this bank, he thought, bounding up to the highest point to get a good view of their surroundings.

On the other side of the shallow ridge, he saw a Twoleg den built into the slope. He was about to turn away again when he heard the thin wail of a cat. Looking more closely, he saw a dark brown she-cat pawing at something on the ground, close to the wall of the den. Her movements were frantic, matching the noise she was making. Bramblestar tried to hear what she was saying, but the wind in his ears meant he couldn’t make out the words.

Oh, no! he thought. Another kittypet that needs rescuing! Could this one be stuck in the mud?

For a moment Bramblestar was tempted to turn away and pretend he hadn’t seen. But he knew that the sight and sound of the distressed cat would haunt him if he refused to help. Bramblestar raced down the slope until he reached the Twoleg den, and approached the kittypet. “What’s wrong? Can I help?” he called.

To his astonishment the kittypet swung around to face him with her lips drawn back in a snarl. “Stay out of this!” she meowed, giving him a shove in the chest to emphasize her words.

Bramblestar stared at her. The she-cat’s amber gaze met his without flinching. She’s bold, for a kittypet! he thought, admiring her courage in spite of her hostility.

The faint sound of yowling drew Bramblestar’s attention to the den. At ground level there was a narrow opening covered by transparent Twoleg stuff. The yowls were coming from a gray tabby tom who had pressed his face against the transparent barrier and was caterwauling for help.

“There must be a way to get him out of there,” Bramblestar mewed, pawing at the gap.

“What would you know about it, flea-pelt?” the kittypet hissed.

Bramblestar felt his shoulder fur begin to bristle and consciously forced it to lie flat again. She’s asking for a clawed ear!

“I’ve seen stuff like this before,” he replied, remembering the way that he and the others had got into the Twoleg den from the ledge while they were rescuing Minty. Experimentally he pressed his forepaws against the top of the transparent barrier, and let out a grunt of satisfaction as it swung inward, opening a narrow gap at the bottom.

But the space wasn’t wide enough for the tabby tom to get out.

“Press harder,” the she-cat ordered, adding her weight to Bramblestar’s. “Frankie, you push from the bottom.”

With all three cats heaving, the gap opened up and the tabby tom, Frankie, was able to squeeze out. His pelt was bristling and his eyes glared with a mixture of fury and terror. His pelt was soaked up to his belly fur, and when Bramblestar peered down into the den he could see floodwater sloshing about just below the opening.

“Thanks!” Frankie gasped. “I thought I was going to drown!”

The brown she-cat’s gaze raked over Bramblestar, her hostility fading, though she still remained wary. “Yeah, thanks.” Her tone was grudging. “My name’s Jessy, and this is Frankie.”

“I’m Bramblestar.” He eyed Jessy, intrigued by her independence and spirit. “You’re pretty brave, for a kittypet.”

“Really?” Jessy’s tail lashed. “Well, you keep a pretty civil tongue in your head, for a wild cat.”

Bramblestar was looking for a retort when he heard paw steps approaching from behind and turned to see the rest of his patrol running down the slope.

Lionblaze halted a couple of tail-lengths away, his eyes wide with shock. “Great StarClan!” he exclaimed. “More kittypets!”