Bramblestar’s Storm

Chapter 3

“Squirrelflight, I’d like you to come with me,” Bramblestar meowed. “And you, Brackenfur, and Cinderheart.” He was careful not to choose any of the cats with Dark Forest associations, unwilling to risk any comments from ShadowClan. The Great Battle had revealed misplaced allegiances inside every Clan, and however much those cats had sworn loyalty to their living Clans since then, they would always be a source of mistrust for their rivals.

The cats Bramblestar had named started to head over to him. Cinderheart paused for a moment to touch noses with Lionblaze.

“Be careful,” the golden tabby tom murmured.

Bramblestar led the patrol into the forest. By now it was almost sunhigh, warm and breezeless, and everything was still under the warm rays. But Bramblestar was too concerned about ShadowClan’s trespass to enjoy the signs of life returning to his territory.

“I think we should double the patrols on the ShadowClan border,” Squirrelflight suggested as they walked side by side through the trees. “And maybe hunt over there more regularly, too. Let ShadowClan know that our eyes and ears are open.”

“Good idea,” Bramblestar agreed.

As they trotted past the abandoned Twoleg den, Bramblestar spotted Leafpool tending to the herbs that she and Jayfeather had planted before leaf-bare. Tiny green shoots were beginning to sprout from the dark soil. Leafpool had her nose buried deep in a clump of catmint, and was unaware of the patrol.

“I’m glad Leafpool has found her place within the Clan again,” Squirrelflight murmured with a warm glance at her sister. “I—I think she lost a bit of herself when she stopped being a medicine cat.”

“We’re lucky to have her,” Bramblestar mewed. He was careful not to comment on Firestar’s decision to send Leafpool to the warriors’ den when the truth about Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf came out. The fact that Leafpool had broken the medicine cats’ code could not be ignored, and Bramblestar was relieved that he had not been forced to make the judgment.

Thinking of other cats whose lives had been transformed by the Great Battle, he fell back to walk beside Brackenfur, out of earshot of the she-cats.

“How are you doing?” Bramblestar asked. His fur felt hot with awkwardness, but he pictured Firestar gently making sure he knew how each of his Clanmates was coping with great change. “I know it’s tough for you, facing the return of newleaf without Sorreltail.” Somehow, grief had seemed easier to bear when the skies were dark and a cold wind kept cats and prey inside their nests.

Brackenfur nodded, his eyes clouding. “I can’t bear knowing that she needn’t have died,” he muttered. “If only she’d let Jayfeather treat her wounds straight after the battle… But she insisted on taking care of our kits first, and then it was too late.”

“She was a great warrior, and a brilliant mother,” Bramblestar meowed. “None of us will forget her.”

“Every leaf and every blade of grass reminds me of her,” Brackenfur told him, his voice steady. “I know she’s watching over me and her kits from StarClan. One day we’ll meet again.” He paused, then added quietly, “I would wait forever to see her face once more.”

Bramblestar nodded, too full of emotion to speak. He ran ahead to give Brackenfur a few moments alone with his memories.

As they approached the border, Bramblestar picked up the reek of ShadowClan scent. “This is well inside our territory,” he remarked with a lash of his tail. “What was Blackstar thinking?”

“Who knows?” Squirrelflight let out a sigh of frustration. “I should have thought every cat in the forest has had a bellyful of trouble by now.” Bramblestar watched her green eyes gleam. Bellyful of trouble or not, she would run into battle today to protect her Clan. No leader could ask for a better deputy.

The last few fox-lengths of their territory seemed full of ShadowClan scent, almost swamping the ThunderClan scent markers.

“Keep together,” Bramblestar warned as the patrol crossed the open space where Twolegs brought their pelt-dens in greenleaf. This had been ShadowClan territory for a long time, until the battle in which Russetfur had died. “If we meet a ShadowClan patrol, remember we’re here to talk, not fight.”

“You mean we let them tear our pelts off?” Brackenfur asked. He sounded grim and focused, as if he had put aside his memories of Sorreltail.

“I mean that we should defend ourselves if we have to, but we won’t strike the first blow,” Bramblestar replied. “You know ShadowClan as well as I do. They’ll do their best to provoke us, but we don’t have to let them.”

Brackenfur snorted as Bramblestar led the way across the border and into ShadowClan territory.

The bare trees of ThunderClan territory, with their swelling green buds, gave way to the gloomy ShadowClan pines, pierced by rare shafts of sunlight. The patrol’s paw steps fell softly on the thick layer of needles that covered the ground. Here and there Bramblestar spotted places where the needles had been churned up to expose the soil below. Clots of earth lay scattered on the disturbed ground like forgotten pieces of fresh-kill.

“Cats fought there in the Great Battle,” Cinderheart murmured, angling her ears toward a wide stretch of scarred earth. “Will the forest ever recover?”

“One day,” Squirrelflight responded, sturdily optimistic. “We have to believe that.”

Undergrowth was sparser here than in ThunderClan territory, and Bramblestar felt more uneasy with each paw step. He kept glancing around, aware that they could be seen from some distance, and anxious not to let a ShadowClan patrol surprise them.

But he was still unprepared when a ShadowClan patrol raced around a nearby bramble thicket, moving almost silently over the ground. The warriors skidded to a halt with startled yowls as they came face-to-face with the ThunderClan cats.

Bramblestar’s sister Tawnypelt, who was leading the patrol, bristled with a mixture of shock and anger. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. She glared at her brother, her claws working among the pine needles.

“We’re on our way to see Blackstar,” Bramblestar replied peaceably. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

“Chase them off!” A young brown tabby she-cat bounced excitedly up and down. “They can’t trespass here!”

“Clan leaders are allowed to visit one another, Grasspaw,” Tawnypelt meowed. “You don’t have to react to everything by unsheathing your claws.”

The apprentice looked disappointed; she took a step back but glared at Bramblestar from behind Tawnypelt, letting the tips of her claws peek out against the dark soil.

Tawnypelt looked wary as she faced Bramblestar. “We’ll escort you to our camp,” she meowed. “To make sure you don’t run into any of the trouble you say you’re not looking for.”

“That’s fine by us,” Bramblestar told her.

The ThunderClan patrol drew closer together as they followed Tawnypelt through the trees. Owlclaw and Scorchfur, the other members of the ShadowClan patrol, flanked them on each side. Grasspaw brought up the rear, growling softly.

Bramblestar noticed more patches of torn earth, and in one place a clump of brambles that had been completely trampled down, as if fighting cats had rolled over it, oblivious to the sharp thorns. ShadowClan’s territory had suffered more than ThunderClan’s in the battle, it seemed.

The ShadowClan camp lay in a hollow, concealed by a tangle of brambles and the low-growing branches of the pine trees that clustered around it. Tawnypelt trotted ahead of them down a narrow tunnel through the brambles; Bramblestar felt the tendrils scraping his sides as he followed.

Blackstar was standing in the middle of the clearing when the ThunderClan patrol emerged from the tunnel. Rowanclaw, his deputy, stood at his shoulder, and more of the ShadowClan warriors had gathered around them. Littlecloud, the medicine cat, sat at one side of the open space, looking worried. Bramblestar was shocked to see how frail Blackstar looked. But then, the ShadowClan leader was much older than Graystripe and Dustpelt, and had led his Clan through the most terrible battle in their history, so perhaps it was no surprise that the seasons were showing in his patchy fur and gaunt frame.

“I found this ThunderClan patrol heading through our territory,” Tawnypelt explained. “Bramblestar says he needs to speak to you.”

“Well, I’m here.” Blackstar’s tone was mild. “What do you want?”

“Greetings, Blackstar.” Bramblestar dipped his head to the old cat. “I’ve come to ask why my cats have found ShadowClan scent inside our borders.”

“What?” Blackstar’s eyes stretched wide, though Bramblestar had a suspicion that his astonishment was feigned. “Your cats must be dreaming, Bramblestar. No ShadowClan warrior has crossed your borders.”

“Are you saying we don’t know ShadowClan scent when we smell it?” Squirrelflight queried with a warning lash of her tail.

“I’ve smelled it myself,” Bramblestar meowed. “And it’s way inside our borders, beyond the clearing where Twolegs bring their pelt-dens.”

“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.”