Bramblestar’s Storm

The patrol scrambled through the drenched forest toward the ShadowClan border. The water had risen to cover the old Thunderpath that led past the Twoleg den, leaving only a short stretch of the ShadowClan border still visible. Bramblestar ordered Thornclaw to renew the ThunderClan scent markers, but he couldn’t detect any fresh ShadowClan scent.

“They haven’t sent a patrol this way,” he remarked. “We’d better cross the border and find out what’s going on.”

“I hope they’re okay,” Dovewing murmured.

Briefly Bramblestar wondered why the young she-cat should be so anxious about their neighbors, then dismissed the thought. I’m anxious about them myself.

“It all looks so different,” Dovewing mewed as they took their first paw steps into ShadowClan territory. “I have no idea which way we should go.”

“We can’t get lost if we keep to the edge of the water,” Graystripe pointed out. “And it’s no use thinking we can keep to the safe ground three tail-lengths from the lakeshore.” His mouth twisted in wry amusement. “The safe ground is right in the middle of ShadowClan territory now.”

Looking around as he led the way along the waterline, Bramblestar tried to figure out where they were. On one side pine-covered slopes stretched upward. He could just make out the walls of the Twoleg den among the trees, and he wondered if the flood had reached the two hostile kittypets that gave ShadowClan so much trouble. On the other side stretched the floodwater, the gray surface interrupted by the dark pointed tops of pine trees. There was something familiar about the way the ground dipped toward the flood, and the shape of the bramble thicket ahead of them.

Bramblestar’s belly lurched. We’re above the ShadowClan camp! The whole of their hollow is filled with water!

The rest of his patrol had realized it too.

“So where are the cats?” Dovewing asked, working her claws in the soggy ground. “Something awful must have happened to them!”

As if they had heard her speaking, a ShadowClan patrol sprang out from behind a cluster of fir trees. Scorchfur was in the lead, with Pinenose and Ferretclaw just behind him. Ferretclaw’s apprentice, Spikepaw, brought up the rear.

“What are you doing here?” Scorchfur demanded, racing up to the ThunderClan patrol. “Get out!”

Bramblestar dipped his head, keen to avoid a hostile confrontation like the one with WindClan the day before. “We’re just making sure you survived the flood,” he replied. “We got worried when there were no fresh scent marks along your border.”

“ShadowClan doesn’t need ThunderClan to worry about us!” Scorchfur hissed.

“And we’re on our way to set the scent markers now,” Pinenose added, her black fur bristling.

For all their brave words, Bramblestar thought that the ShadowClan cats looked scared out of their fur, their eyes wide, their gazes darting from side to side as if they expected an enemy to pounce on them from out of the nearest cover. “I’m sorry about your camp,” he mewed, waving his tail toward the swirling water that filled the dip. “We’ve lost our home, too.”

“We don’t want your sympathy,” Scorchfur snarled. “We’re fine. And if you think we’re going to tell you where we’re living now, think again!”

If you’re fine, why do you look so distraught? Bramblestar wondered. Aloud he meowed, “I wouldn’t dream of asking. Just tell me one thing: Is Tawnypelt okay?”

“And your other Clanmates?” Dovewing put in quickly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ferretclaw gave a reluctant nod. “We’re all okay.”

“And hedgehogs fly,” Thornclaw muttered from behind Bramblestar, who gave him a warning flick of his ears.

“We want to cross your territory to check on RiverClan,” Bramblestar meowed. “Do we have your permission, as long as we stay inside three fox-lengths from the edge of the water?”

“I suppose so,” Scorchfur growled. “If it’ll get you off our territory sooner.”

With another respectful dip of his head Bramblestar turned to go, waving his tail for his patrol to follow.

“RiverClan won’t thank you for interfering!” Ferretclaw called after them. “You’ve got no right to act like ThunderClan is here to save us all!”

Ignoring the parting shot, Bramblestar led his patrol farther along the water’s edge to where the Twoleg half bridge had once reached out into the lake—now covered now by many tail-lengths of water.

“You know something?” Graystripe meowed, padding along beside Bramblestar. “When you asked about Tawnypelt, Ferretclaw said that all the cats are okay, but none of them ever mentioned Blackstar. If you ask me, those are cats who are mourning their leader.”