Bramblestar’s Storm

“Absolutely right, you’re not Firestar,” Gorsetail muttered, overhearing.

Bramblestar felt a flash of anger. Snatching up the white bird, he stalked away with it, even though it was almost too heavy for him to carry and the trailing wings threatened to trip him. Sandstorm and Molewhisker hurried to help him, one on each side, while Blossomfall padded ahead to clear any twigs or bramble tendrils out of the way. As they headed into the trees, Bramblestar could hear the WindClan cats hissing behind him, but he paid no attention.

“You made the right decision,” Sandstorm meowed after a moment. “You’re the leader now, and you can’t show weakness to another Clan.”

Bramblestar shrugged. “Whatever,” he mumbled around his mouthful of feathers. He was thinking about what Hootpaw had said: Rabbits were getting scarce in WindClan, and they were relying on birds that didn’t usually come to the moor. There’s something very familiar about the scent of the white bird’s wings…

The ThunderClan cats gathered around to stare at the white bird when the patrol returned to the hollow.

“Wow, it’s huge!” Berrynose exclaimed.

“I never saw a bird like that before,” Ivypool meowed. “It’s enough to feed the whole Clan!”

“I caught it,” Molewhisker announced, giving his shoulder a couple of proud licks.

His sister Cherryfall blinked at him. “Great catch! Those wings could really have hurt you.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that difficult,” Molewhisker mewed.

No, because the bird was already wounded and trapped in a bush, Bramblestar thought, suppressing a mrrow of amusement. He said nothing. Let Molewhisker have his moment of glory!

“Squirrelflight!” he called, beckoning to his deputy with his tail. He led her up to the white bird and angled his ears toward it. “Smell it,” he mewed. “What does it remind you of?”

Squirrelflight took a deep sniff, then looked up, puzzled. “Er… dead birds?” she guessed.

Bramblestar twitched the tip of his tail. “No, think of a place,” he urged.

Squirrelflight sniffed again, and understanding began to dawn in her eyes. “Now I remember! There’s a salt-tasting tang on the feathers, like the water in the sun-drown-place. Do you think that’s where it came from?”

Bramblestar remembered that Onestar had mentioned at the Gathering that WindClan were hunting birds from the sun-drown-water. He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, thinking that the WindClan leader must be imagining things. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“The wind must be incredibly strong,” he commented, “to blow these birds all the way here.”

He gazed through the trees as though he could see all the way to the sun-drown-place. A shiver passed through him from ears to tail-tip as he remembered the surging mass of blue-green water.

Squirrelflight waited a few moments more to let all the Clan, especially the apprentices, get a good look at the white bird. Then she raised her voice to make herself heard throughout the clearing. “Come on, all of you! There’s enough prey here for every cat!”

That night Bramblestar found it hard to rest. Wind blustering around the Highledge disturbed him, and when he did manage to snatch a few moments of sleep he was assaulted by strange dreams of salty water and falling down holes on top of badgers.

A paw prodding him in the side woke him. The faint light of dawn was trickling into his den, and he just managed to make out the features of Jayfeather. The medicine cat was wide-eyed and agitated.

“Wha…?” Bramblestar muttered. “Did I call out in my sleep and wake you?”

Jayfeather shook his head. “No. I went out before dawn, because I was concerned about the new plants in the wind. And I found something… something awful. Come and see, Bramblestar!”

Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Bramblestar followed Jayfeather out of his den and down the tumbled rocks to the floor of the hollow. Jayfeather led the way into the forest at a run, sure-pawed as always in spite of his blindness, while Bramblestar blundered after him in the near darkness.

The two cats followed the disused Thunderpath until they came to the abandoned nest. By now there was enough light for Bramblestar to see more clearly. He stopped, his fur bushing up in dismay. The plants that Leafpool and Jayfeather had tended so carefully had been destroyed by a branch from a nearby ash tree. Wind had blown it across the patch of earth, churning up the ground and flattening the young herbs. Torn leaves had blown everywhere.

“Well, it’s bad, but it should be possible to repair it,” Bramblestar meowed. “Some of the roots must have survived. I’ll send you a patrol later today, to help clear up the mess and look for new plants in the forest.”

“You don’t understand,” Jayfeather told him, his voice somber. “This is an omen. Something terrible is going to happen. Darkness and destruction and tragedy are closing in on our Clan once more.”