Bramblestar’s Storm

Bramblestar stared at the golden-brown cat in astonishment. Could this be the answer to the shortage of prey? It had never occurred to him to hunt anywhere but in the remains of their own territory.

“You know, Seedpaw could be right,” Dovewing murmured.

“I don’t know…” Bramblestar felt that as leader he had to be more cautious. “It’s a big paw step, to consider changing our boundaries.”

“But we’d be unchallenged if we hunted beyond the ridge,” Bumblestripe pointed out. “No other cats live there.”

Poppyfrost’s tail twitched. “There would be foxes and badgers. We had enough trouble with them when ThunderClan first made its territory here. Can we take on that kind of challenge when we’re in this state?” she added, gesturing with her tail at their skinny bodies and sodden pelts.

“We could always start with hunting patrols,” Bramblestar mewed, beginning to be intrigued by the prospect of more prey. “We don’t need to mark out a whole territory.”

While they were talking, the apprentices had been running along the water’s edge, half-thrilled and half-fearful as they gazed out at the surging water.

“Look!” Lilypaw let out a squeak. “It’s the Stick of Fallen Warriors!”

Bramblestar looked where she was pointing and spotted the stick that Jayfeather had marked with scratches as a memorial to the cats who had died in the Great Battle. It was half-floating, half-submerged in the floodwater, wedged among the branches of an oak tree.

“We have to get it!” Seedpaw exclaimed.

Both young cats were poised to plunge into the lake; Bramblestar reached them just in time to block their path.

“Stop!” he ordered. “It’s far too dangerous to swim in the floodwater!”

“But the stick…” Seedpaw protested. “It’s important!”

“And it will still be there when the water goes down,” Poppyfrost meowed firmly. “Now come away from the edge.”

She and Bumblestripe herded their apprentices away from the sucking edge of the floodwater, and turned back toward the camp.

“Hey!” Bumblestripe halted, looking back. “I can see a fish, swimming among the trees.”

Bramblestar spotted it too, a swift, silver glimmer among the drowned leaves. For a heartbeat he wondered if they should try to catch it. No, he decided. We’re all wet enough.

“We’ll try hunting beyond the ridge,” he told the others as they plodded over the muddy ground. “That was a good idea, Seedpaw.”

Seedpaw puffed out her chest. “Please let me come on the patrol!” she begged.

“No,” Bumblestripe replied. “Only experienced warriors should go beyond the boundaries.” Glancing at Bramblestar, who nodded in agreement, he added, “There could be other cats hunting there because of the flood, as well as badgers and foxes.”

“But I’m a great hunter!” Seedpaw insisted. “I can pounce really well. Watch!”

She leaped into the air and landed with her front claws sunk deep into a clump of soggy moss. “I caught it!” she yowled. But when she tried to step back and withdraw her claws, the moss was so wet that it clung to her fur and she couldn’t get it off. “This is yucky!” she complained as she shook her paws.

“Keep still,” Lilypaw mewed, padding up to her sister and stripping off the moss with careful scrapes of her claws. “Honestly, Seedpaw, sometimes you’re such a stupid furball.”

Seedpaw blinked in embarrassment and her tail drooped.

“But you’re right, that was a great pounce,” Dovewing put in. “And Bumblestripe tells me you’re an awesome hunter. Maybe you’d like to show me some of your skills?”

Seedpaw brightened up a little. “I know you’re only trying to make me feel better,” she mewed. “And hoping I won’t think about hunting over the ridge anymore. But sure, I’ll show you if you want.”

“Thanks, that would be great,” Dovewing responded, with a hint of amusement.

As the patrol moved off again, Bumblestripe padded alongside Dovewing. “That was kind,” he murmured, brushing his muzzle against the she-cat’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dovewing.”

“I like working with the apprentices,” Dovewing purred.

“I can’t wait for us to have our own kits,” Bumblestripe went on. “I know you’ll be a great mother.”

To Bramblestar’s surprise, Dovewing stepped away from her mate. “There’s plenty of time for that,” she mewed. “We need to deal with the flood first.”

Bumblestripe flattened his ears. “Right, okay,” he murmured, but Bramblestar wondered if Dovewing had seen the hurt look in his eyes. Were things all right between them?

Chapter 13

The rain stopped, but the clouds didn’t clear, so it was impossible to tell when it was sunhigh. But when the sky seemed brightest overhead, Bramblestar gathered the cats together to share the meager prey the hunters had brought back.

“I can’t stand biting through soggy fur,” Cloudtail complained, prodding the limp body of a mouse with his front paw. “What I wouldn’t give to be tucking in to a nice juicy vole, back in the hollow in the sunshine!”

“Well, wet mouse is all you’re going to get,” his mate, Brightheart, told him. “You’ll have to make the best of it.”