Bramblestar’s Storm

“No better for you asking,” Crowfeather retorted. “And before you start accusing us, no, we haven’t crossed over to your side of the stream.”

“I know that,” Bramblestar told him, not mentioning the log they had unjammed. WindClan isn’t saying a word about it, either.

“And we’re not going to cross.” Furzepelt’s gray-and-white fur was bristling. “So keep your filthy ThunderClan paws off our side.”

“You and your kittypet friends,” Crowfeather added.

“Oh, yes.” Gorsetail’s voice was full of scorn. “We’ve seen the latest additions to your hunting patrols. Very effective—not!”

“But ThunderClan never seems to mind who they let into their Clan,” Furzepelt meowed. “Maybe you’re missing Firestar so much that you’re looking for a kittypet replacement.”

A growl of anger woke deep in Berrynose’s chest. Thornclaw and Brightheart were both bristling, while Dewpaw raced to the very edge of the stream and glared furiously at the WindClan patrol.

Bramblestar raised his tail in warning. “Careful,” he murmured. “We don’t want trouble with them, and it’s none of their business who we let into the Clan.”

“You mean we have to let them say what they like?” Thornclaw demanded.

“I mean we need to pick our battles.” Bramblestar made himself sound calm, although inwardly he was ruffled to learn how much WindClan knew about the kittypets. He’d deliberately kept them out of border patrols for that very reason. “There’s no WindClan scent all along this side of the stream, so our border is safe.”

“They’d better not think of invading.” Berrynose sounded troubled rather than aggressive. “Those kittypets could be a weak link.”

“It won’t come to that,” Bramblestar told him. “At least, Whitewing, it won’t if you can sort out your apprentice.”

Dewpaw was still standing on the bank, flexing his claws and hissing at the WindClan patrol. “Come over here and insult Firestar’s memory!” he yowled.

Whitewing padded over and patted Dewpaw with her tail. “That’s enough. It’s time to go back to camp.”

“But they—” Dewpaw began to protest.

“I said, enough. Do you want them to see me dragging you away by the scruff?”

Dewpaw shot one last glare at the WindClan cats and retreated, his fur still bristling. “They’d better not come over here,” he muttered.

Bramblestar made a polite farewell to Crowfeather and his cats, guessing that would irritate them far more than hurling abuse. Then he led his patrol away, conscious of unfriendly stares following them until undergrowth cut off the view.

As soon as Bramblestar and his patrol returned to camp, Brackenfur came bounding up. “Now we’ve lost Frankie and Minty!” he complained. “They were supposed to be with me on the late-morning hunting patrol.”

“Never mind.” Bramblestar tried to sound soothing, though his pads prickled with apprehension at the news. Glancing around to see which cats were available, he added, “Take Cherryfall instead, and Poppyfrost and Lilypaw.”

“Can I come too?” Jessy asked, turning from where she was hanging one of the Twoleg pelts on a nearby bush. “Daisy asked me to hang these pelts out in the sun, but this is the last one.”

“Sure.” Brackenfur invited her over with a friendly wave of his tail. “You can show me these hunting skills Bramblestar keeps telling me about.”

As soon as the patrol had left, Bramblestar sniffed around the clearing and finally picked up faint traces of Frankie and Minty leading out of the clearing side by side. They’ve been gone some time, he thought, judging by the faintness of the scent.

The trail led Bramblestar toward the ridge, up to the outcrop of rocks where once there had been another tunnel entrance. The one that collapsed behind Hollyleaf, all those moons ago. Bramblestar shivered at the memory, still missing the cat he had once believed to be his daughter. As the rocks loomed into full view, he spotted a small black-and-white she-cat basking in a patch of sunlight, fast asleep. He bounded up and stood over her. “Minty!”

Minty’s eyes flew open and she jumped to her paws. “Oh!” she squeaked. “It’s you!”

“What are you doing here?” Bramblestar meowed.

Minty gave her chest fur a few embarrassed licks. “Frankie suggested coming out here to lie in the sun,” she explained. “He said we’d be back in plenty of time for the patrol.” She blinked in confusion. “Did I oversleep? Where’s Frankie? Did you wake him already?”

“Frankie’s not here.” Bramblestar’s tail-tip began to twitch. StarClan preserve me from clawing this silly cat’s ears off! He felt disappointed that the kittypets had been so irresponsible, when he had thought they were beginning to fit into the life of the Clan. “I don’t have time to round up missing kittypets,” he snapped. “Come on, back to the tunnel!”

Minty’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to look for Frankie?”