Bramblestar’s Storm

Thornclaw heaved a sigh. “You mean, go right up to a Twoleg den that might be full of Twolegs, and risk falling into the flood, all for a cat we haven’t even set eyes on?”

Graystripe looked at his Clanmate with a hint of scorn. “You could show a little compassion,” he growled.

The fur on Thornclaw’s neck began to rise, and Bramblestar meowed quickly, “We’ll climb the ivy and see if we can find the cat, without putting ourselves in unnecessary danger. Come on.”

He waded along the top of the fence until he could claw his way up the ivy. His belly churned as Thornclaw’s words echoed in his mind. The golden-brown warrior was right. We don’t know for sure that all the Twolegs have gone. But Twolegs were noisy creatures, and now their surroundings were so quiet that Bramblestar could hear every lap and gurgle of the water, every wail from the she-cat in trouble.

“Help! Is anyone there?”

Saving his breath for the climb, Bramblestar reached the upper level of the Twoleg den and scrambled along the ivy until he reached the corner. The cat’s cries were even louder here. Bramblestar looked down and almost lost his grip in astonishment. Just around a bend in the flooded Thunderpath, a small white cat with black patches on her ears and belly was crouching in a round, hollow object made of wood. The object bobbed in the water, stuck in the branches of a submerged bush.

“Hi! Up here!” Bramblestar called.

The cat spun around, making her little sanctuary rock so wildly that it almost tipped over. “You found me!” she gasped, tipping back her head to look up. “Please help! Did you get left behind, too?”

Bramblestar opened his jaws to reply, but before he could speak, the she-cat continued in a rush. “When the lake flooded, my housefolk took Brandy and Polly, but they couldn’t find me.” She glanced down for a moment, and her voice grew quieter. “I was asleep under their bed. I didn’t hear them calling until it was too late.” With a shake, she lifted her head again. “Then the water started coming into the house so fast! I climbed into this tub to keep dry. I didn’t realize it would float away!”

“Calm down,” Bramblestar meowed when the she-cat paused for breath. “We’ll figure out a way to get to you.”

Now that he had found the cat, there was no way he could leave her floating helplessly in the flood. But she was a long way out and surrounded by deep water. Can we swim that far? Bramblestar wondered. And if we do reach her, how do we get her to safety?

“I’ve got an idea,” Thornclaw mewed, with a light touch of his tail on his leader’s shoulder.

“Okay, spit it out,” Bramblestar told him, tensing as he felt the ivy stem where he was clinging start to tear away from the wall of the den. “We can’t stay here.”

“See those little ledges on the den walls?” Thornclaw nodded toward them. “We might be able to use them to cross from den to den.”

“Those are windowsills,” Graystripe meowed unexpectedly.

Every cat stared at him. “Huh?” Thornclaw grunted.

“Don’t forget that I once lived in a Twoleg den,” Graystripe told them. “After I was captured when the Twolegs were cutting down the old forest. Twolegs sleep in nests on this upper level,” he went on. “These gaps in the wall are called windows. The Twolegs look through them, but they don’t go in and out of them.”

“So what are they for?” Dovewing asked.

“Well, they let light into the den.”

“And I expect the Twolegs use them to watch for predators,” Thornclaw added. “That’s a pretty neat idea, for Twolegs.”

Bramblestar cleared his throat. “If you’ve all finished discussing Twoleg dens,” he mewed, “we have a cat to rescue. Thornclaw,” he continued, “I think your idea could work, but it’s going to be tricky. Maybe you and I should try it alone.”

“No way!” Dovewing exclaimed.

Graystripe lashed his tail. “Forget it, Bramblestar. We’re coming with you.”

Bramblestar was warmed by the loyalty of his Clanmates. “Okay,” he purred. “But for StarClan’s sake, be careful.”

Taking the lead, he clambered through the ivy until he reached the first windowsill. He pulled himself onto it, gritting his teeth; even though the windowsill was wider than a tree branch, it was angled slightly downward, so he was afraid he was going to slip. He dug his claws hard into the wood and crept forward with his heart thudding.

At the end of the windowsill he had to leap across a gap of bare red stone to reach the next one. It’s just like chasing a squirrel in the trees, he told himself, bunching his muscles and launching himself into the air. He landed awkwardly, one hind paw waving in the air, and took a moment to steady himself.

A glance over his shoulder told himself that the others were following safely. Confidence began to seep back into his paws, only to drain away again when he saw that the gap between this windowsill and the next was much wider.