Bramblestar’s Storm

Bramblestar sighed. “Okay, Ivypool, keep your fur on. We’ll go back. But I still want that mouse caught. Mousewhisker and Bumblestripe, you can stay here and try again.”

Bumblestripe nodded. “We’ll get it, don’t worry.”

Bramblestar led the way out of the den with Cherryfall limping behind him. Ivypool and her patrol flanked them as they returned to the camp.

“Any sign of WindClan on the border?” Bramblestar asked Ivypool.

“Not a sniff,” the silver-and-white tabby told him. “As far as we can scent anything in this wind. We didn’t spot any more of those white birds, either.”

Back in the hollow, Bramblestar sent Cherryfall to her nest, then headed for the medicine cats’ den. Both Jayfeather and Leafpool were there, sorting piles of herbs.

“How am I supposed to keep my stocks tidy when the wind is this bad?” Jayfeather was grumbling as Bramblestar brushed past the bramble screen. “I no sooner put a stem down, when it’s gone.”

“We need to do this as fast as we can, and then shove everything down to the bottom of the cleft,” Leafpool meowed.

Jayfeather snorted. “And what do you want?” he asked, looking up at Bramblestar with his intense blue gaze. “Not another skirmish with WindClan?”

“No,” Bramblestar replied. He explained what had happened at the Twoleg nest. “Cherryfall has a ripped claw,” he finished. “I sent her to rest in the warriors’ den. Leafpool, I thought you could take a look at her there.”

Jayfeather’s eyes narrowed. “Are you the ThunderClan medicine cat, Bramblestar, or am I?” He sighed. “Okay, Leafpool. Better take some marigold, if it hasn’t all blown away.”

When Leafpool had slipped out carrying the herbs, Jayfeather faced Bramblestar again. “Go on, then,” he meowed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How do you know I—”

“You sent Leafpool away deliberately, right? Don’t waste my time, Bramblestar.”

“It’s about the omen,” Bramblestar began. “Was this the disaster we were warned about? I saved Cherryfall—does that mean I defeated the omen?”

Jayfeather looked thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “With all this wind, it’s impossible to think straight.”

“Then you can’t help?” Bramblestar asked.

“With the omen? No. But I can still help with your injuries. Sit still while I examine you.”

Bramblestar’s paws were itching to get back to his patrol, but he forced himself to wait while Jayfeather ran his paws expertly over him.

“You’ve got a bump on your head,” the medicine cat mewed. “And does it hurt when I do this?” He gave Bramblestar a sharp prod in the shoulder.

“Ow! Yes, it does.”

“Thought so,” Jayfeather grunted. “You’ll have some pain there for a day or two, but it’s not serious. A poppy seed should ease it.”

“No, thanks,” Bramblestar meowed. “I’ll put up with the pain so I can keep a clear head.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “Suit yourself. Tell me if you change your mind.”

Bramblestar thanked the medicine cat and padded out into the clearing again. Squirrelflight’s hunting patrol had just returned, but their jaws were empty.

“It’s hopeless!” Squirrelflight declared, her fur bristling. “I think the wind has blown all the prey out of the forest.”

We’ll go hungry tonight, Bramblestar thought. I hope Bumblestripe and Mousewhisker managed to catch that mouse. Slipping into the warriors’ den to check on Cherryfall, he found the young cat drowsy from poppy seed. Leafpool had put a poultice of marigold leaves on her injured paw and was stroking the warrior’s fur while she went to sleep.

Bramblestar retreated quietly and crossed the clearing to the elders’ den, where Purdy, his tabby pelt ruffled by the wind, was busy plugging the drafts with long tendrils of bramble.

“The apprentices should be helping you with that,” Bramblestar meowed.

“I can manage fine,” Purdy puffed. “I don’t need no young cats runnin’ around after me. They’ve better things to do.”

But Bramblestar could see that the old tabby was looking tired, and the brambles were catching in his matted tabby fur. Backing out of the den, he beckoned with his tail to Lilypaw and Seedpaw, who were collecting sticks and dead leaves from the floor of the camp.

“Go and help Purdy, please,” he meowed when they came bounding up. “His den needs wind-proofing, and then you could see if there’s any fresh-kill left for him.”

“Sure, Bramblestar,” Lilypaw chirped.

Bramblestar let out a purr. The two older apprentices are shaping up nicely. Catching sight of Daisy in the entrance to the nursery, he padded over to her.

“This wind is terrible!” the cream-colored she-cat exclaimed as he approached. “It blows dust into my eyes and fur, and I can’t hear myself think.”

“It won’t last long, I hope,” Bramblestar mewed. “Daisy, I wonder if you could sleep in Purdy’s den tonight? If anything happens, I don’t want him to be alone.”