Bramblestar’s Storm

A stab of fellowship for the new ShadowClan leader pierced through Bramblestar as he remembered how awe-inspiring his own nine-lives ceremony had been. I had to deal with the aftermath of the Great Battle, and Rowanstar will have to deal with the flood, he thought. Great StarClan, let the water go down soon, so we can all get back to normal!

When they emerged from the trees near the small Thunderpath, Lionblaze and the others stood aghast to see how far the floodwater stretched.

“Where’s RiverClan?” Cinderheart asked, her voice shaking.

“Farther away from the lake,” Bramblestar replied, reminding her how he and his patrol had located the RiverClan cats on their first expedition. “They’re okay, for now at least.”

Though he said nothing to the others, Bramblestar was alarmed to see that the water level was no lower. If anything, the flood was a bit deeper. We’ll have to be extra careful, he told himself, pushing down the stirring of fear in his belly.

He led his three Clanmates alongside the Thunderpath and showed them how they could cross using the top of the drowned monster.

“I never thought monsters could be useful for anything!” Lionblaze muttered as he launched himself into the water.

On the other side, Bramblestar took the lead along the fences until he spotted the Twoleg den where they had found Minty. He was thankful to see that the entrance was still open. “This way,” he meowed, readying himself for the awkward leap from the fence. “See that thing wedging the piece of wood ajar?” he added. “Graystripe says it’s called a chair. We have to jump onto it, and then we can get inside.”

“What should we do if we fall in?” Poppyfrost asked nervously.

“Swim,” Bramblestar told her, pushing off with a massive effort and landing with all four paws safely on the flat, wooden surface of the chair.

He stepped aside to make room for Lionblaze to follow, and then Poppyfrost. The tortoiseshell she-cat misjudged the distance, and though her forepaws struck the Twoleg chair, her hind paws slid into the water. For a moment she thrashed helplessly, until Lionblaze grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her on.

“Thanks!” she gasped. “I never want to see any more water as long as I live!”

Once Cinderheart had made the jump safely, Bramblestar led the way to the upper level of the den. His pelt stood on end along his spine, even though there was no sign of Twolegs, and he saw that his companions were equally wary. All their coats were bristling as they gazed around at the unfamiliar Twoleg things, and they set their paws down as lightly as if they were stalking mice.

Cinderheart was the only one of them to show anything but alarm and the need to get out of there as soon as possible. Her eyes looked ready to pop out as she studied their surroundings. “Can’t we explore a bit?” she begged. “I’ve never been inside a Twoleg den before.”

“No, we can’t,” Lionblaze responded before Bramblestar had the chance to reply. “Let’s just do what we’ve come to do.”

The Twoleg pelts were still heaped on the floor on the upper level, where the first patrol had found them.

“These are great!” Poppyfrost purred, kneading one with her forepaws. “So soft and dry, and the whole Clan could sleep on just one of them.”

Bramblestar sniffed warily at the pelts. “They smell like sheep,” he muttered. “But I can’t imagine how sheep pelts would get inside a Twoleg den.” Actually, I don’t want to imagine…

Struggling with the heavy folds, the cats dragged the pelts down to the lower level, as far as the edge of the flood.

“How are we going to carry these across the water?” Cinderheart asked. “We don’t want to get them wet.”

Bramblestar thought for a moment. He pictured Minty in her tub and glanced around, looking for something the same size and shape. Finally he spotted a round black object, lying on its side near the edge of the water. It had a weird smell, but when he tested it with his teeth it felt strong and slightly chewy.

“It seems okay,” he commented. “Let’s see if it floats.”

With Poppyfrost helping, he dragged the black tub to the edge of the water and pushed it in. It bobbed on the surface, and when Bramblestar stretched out his neck to peer inside, he couldn’t see any leaks.

“It’s fine,” he announced. “Let’s get the pelts inside. We should be able to push it across the water and keep them dry.”

It was an awkward job to haul the tub out again and pack the pelts inside. By now the strain of working inside a Twoleg den was beginning to get to Bramblestar. His skin crawled with nervousness, though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of. The rest of the patrol felt the same, he could tell, their ears laid back and their tails twitching. Every cat jumped at the slightest sound.