Bramblestar’s Storm

When he headed out of the tunnel again, the sun was setting, the long shadows of the trees already covering the clearing. Above the topmost branches, scarlet light was fading from a sky barred with cloud, and a single warrior of StarClan shone overhead. Bramblestar spotted Jessy choosing prey from the fresh-kill pile, and padded over to join her. As he drew closer he noticed that one of her ears was scratched and she had lost a tuft of fur from near her tail.

“You look a bit battered from the training,” he commented as he joined her. “You know, you don’t have to fight.”

Jessy looked up from her blackbird and narrowed her eyes. “If I choose to fight, will you stop me?”

“Of course not,” Bramblestar replied. He felt a warm glow of admiration for her courage, her readiness to fight on behalf of cats she had known for barely a moon, and he leaned closer to her until his shoulder rested on her flank. Jessy jerked backward, wincing and drawing in a sharp, hissing breath.

“Sorry,” she mewed. “I’ve got a massive bruise there.”

“I hope your opponent has one, too,” Bramblestar responded.

Jessy’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Let’s just say that Birchfall will take kittypets more seriously from now on!”

The sun had cleared the tops of the trees by the time Bramblestar ventured into ShadowClan territory at the head of a border patrol. Two sunrises had passed since his decision to go into battle, and there had been no more news from ShadowClan. Previous patrols had found more fresh scent, more traces of blood, but no sign of cats or badgers.

Something has to happen soon, Bramblestar thought.

The forest was silent as he brushed through the long grass, with Dovewing, Cherryfall, and Molewhisker behind him. His ears were pricked and his jaws parted to taste the air. At every paw step his gaze darted around to make sure that nothing unexpected was creeping up on them. Dovewing looked strained and anxious, and Bramblestar guessed that she was still trying to hear as far as she had before the Great Battle. I’d love to know what’s going on in ShadowClan, Bramblestar thought. But I’m not going to tell her that!

He halted as he breathed in a familiar scent. Tawnypelt! “You go on ahead,” he told the others. “Dovewing, take the lead.”

When the rest of his patrol had vanished into the undergrowth, Bramblestar followed his sister’s scent trail until he spotted her pushing her way out from a clump of ferns, with a mouse hanging limply in her jaws.

“Tawnypelt!” he meowed in a low voice.

His sister stiffened, then whipped around to face him, so startled that she dropped the mouse. “Bramblestar! Get out—there’s a patrol in the trees over there.”

Bramblestar beckoned with his tail. “Come here, then.”

Tawnypelt snatched up her prey and sped toward him; together they slid under the low-growing branches of a holly bush.

“ThunderClan will help ShadowClan attack the badgers,” Bramblestar told his sister, his voice rapid and urgent. “But we need to know what’s happening. Has Rowanstar planned a strike?”

Tawnypelt’s green eyes widened in astonishment. “You’ll do that with your whole Clan?”

Bramblestar gave her a terse nod. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. I know you need help—and we don’t want badgers settling in these woods either.”

Tawnypelt rested her tail-tip on his flank. “I asked for your help. I’m not going to turn it down now.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Bramblestar prompted.

“Rowanstar plans to attack tomorrow night,” his sister meowed, “before the moon gets any brighter.”

“Okay. We’ll be there.”

“Tawnypelt!” A cat yowled in the distance.

“I’ve got to go,” Tawnypelt muttered. “Thanks, Bramblestar.” She wriggled out on her belly from under the bush and disappeared.

Bramblestar tracked down the rest of his patrol and returned to camp, where he found Squirrelflight and his other Clanmates returning from battle practice.

“I saw Tawnypelt,” he told his deputy. “She says that Rowanstar is planning to attack the badgers tomorrow night.”

“This is it, then.” Squirrelflight flexed her claws. “Well, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

In the clearing outside the tunnel, all the talk was of the forthcoming battle as Bramblestar’s Clanmates discussed different moves, arguing about which ones worked best. Suddenly feeling in need of some space, he headed down the slope toward the lake.

“Hey, Bramblestar!” Lionblaze called after him. “Can I come with you?”

“Sure.” Bramblestar waited while the golden tabby tom bounded across the clearing. “I’m just going to check the water levels.”

Companiably the two cats trotted through the trees side by side.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Lionblaze confessed as they skirted the top of the cliffs that surrounded the hollow. “Cinderheart is expecting my kits.”

Bramblestar halted. “That’s wonderful! I can’t say I’m surprised.”