Bramblestar’s Storm

Even though the water had gone down, Bramblestar could see the evidence of the terrible flood everywhere he looked. Vast swathes of mud covered the ground, clinging to his paws as he picked his way through it. The ground was littered with broken Twoleg things and branches swept along in the surge. Sometimes there was no way around it, so that Bramblestar and Frankie had to clamber over the heaps of flotsam, getting even wetter and muddier. As they drew closer to the Twoleg dens, Bramblestar saw that some of the Twolegs had returned. They waded in and out of the flooded dens, pushing water out with long branches that were bushy at the end, and yowling at one another in angry voices. Bramblestar’s fur began to bristle as he drew closer to them, but soon he realized that they were too busy to notice a couple of cats.

By now Bramblestar was close enough to Frankie to have called to him easily, but he kept silent, in the grip of curiosity, and ducked out of sight whenever Frankie paused to look around. I want to know exactly what this kittypet is up to. Soon Frankie reached the flooded Thunderpath that led away from the lake. The water came up no farther than his belly fur now, and he waded along, venturing into each Twoleg den but staying out of sight of the Twolegs.

What is he doing? Is he trying to steal food because hunting prey is too hard? Or looking for his Twolegs?

When Frankie emerged from the next Twoleg den, he paused, looking around with his head raised. “Benny! Benny!” he called.

Bramblestar stared at the kittypet in dismay. He’s looking for his brother! Why didn’t I think of that? He kept close as the gray tabby cat went on, searching under bushes, in abandoned Twoleg dens and monsters, underneath the bigger chunks of debris that littered the ground. His frantic, uncoordinated movements and his wide-stretched eyes gave away his growing despair.

At last Frankie jumped up onto a fence. “Benny, where are you?” he yowled.

Bramblestar couldn’t let him suffer on his own anymore. “Frankie!” he meowed, jumping up onto the fence beside him.

Frankie whirled to face him, so startled that he almost lost his balance. “I—I’m sorry…” he stammered when he had regained his footing.

Bramblestar silenced him with a wave of his tail. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We should have known you’d come looking for Benny. We all know how it feels to lose kin. It’s part of Clan life.”

Frankie lowered his head. “Then it’s a part of Clan life I can’t accept.”

“I didn’t say we accepted it, either,” Bramblestar mewed. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”

He leaped down from the fence and headed farther along the flooded Thunderpath, trying to remember which of the Twoleg nests Frankie had been trapped in when Jessy found him. “Show me your den,” he told Frankie. “Maybe we can work out which way Benny would have gone. That is where you saw him last, right?”

Frankie nodded, beckoning with his tail. “This way.”

He waded across the Thunderpath and up the slope on the far side. At the top, Bramblestar spotted the den set into the bank where he had first seen Jessy trying to get through the window to release Frankie. Following the kittypet, he bounded down the slope until they reached the fence that surrounded the den.

“Benny and I were here when the flood came,” Frankie explained, jumping over the fence and landing on a stretch of soggy grass. “The water came up from the lake like a huge wave. It knocked us off our paws and washed us that way.” He angled his ears toward the opposite fence. “I hit the fence and dug my claws in. I thought I was going to drown.” He shuddered and his eyes clouded.

“What happened next?” Bramblestar prompted him.

“I spotted that the basement window was open. I managed to get inside. I thought Benny was right behind me… but he must have been swept away.” His voice shook on the last few words.

Bramblestar touched Frankie’s shoulder with his nose, then padded across the garden to inspect the fence at the opposite side. Water had washed away all traces of scent, but after a few moments he found a narrow gap at the bottom with a tuft of black-and-white fur caught on a splinter.

“Hey, Frankie!” he called. “Benny is black and white, right? Could this be his?”

Frankie ran over and stared at the scrap of fur. “Yes, that’s Benny’s,” he meowed.

“Looks like he went this way, then.”

Bramblestar squeezed through the gap, with Frankie close behind. On the other side a broad swathe of destruction—broken fencing, stinking mud, scattered branches and other debris, and even a small monster tipped over onto its side—revealed the path of the huge wave. Ignoring their wet paws and drenched fur, the two cats followed the trail, checking each possible hiding place to see if Benny was there.