Bramblestar’s Storm

Minty looked even more nervous than Frankie, but she stood still with her ears pricked just as he had done, though she forgot to taste the air for scent. She kept jumping at the sound of creaking branches or rustling leaves, as if she thought a fox or a badger might be sneaking up on her. At last she glanced at Bramblestar and whispered, “I think I’ve found something.”

Bramblestar was confused. He couldn’t scent any nearby prey at all. Don’t tell me that kittypet is better at this than me! “Okay, go ahead,” he mewed.

Minty started to stalk forward, setting her paws down lightly. At least she’s learned something from what Frankie did, Bramblestar thought, still wondering what she thought she was going to catch.

Then Minty dropped into an untidy hunter’s crouch, and jumped forward with her forepaws stretching out. “Got it!” she yowled as she landed, sinking her claws into something brown, almost hidden by an arching fern. “Oh…” she added a moment later, looking disconcerted.

Bramblestar padded over to look. He hid an amused purr when he saw that Minty’s prey was actually an old log half-buried in the grass.

“I thought it was a rat,” she murmured, scrabbling her paws in embarrassment.

“We don’t get many rats in this part of the forest,” Bramblestar told her. “But don’t worry, Minty. That was pretty good. If it had been a rat, you’d have stood a good chance of catching it.”

Minty looked unconvinced.

“My turn now,” Jessy announced.

Instead of standing still, she began slipping quietly through the undergrowth, her paws hardly touching the ground, while she stared up into the trees. Bramblestar and the others followed her at a distance. Eventually Jessy froze, her gaze fixed on a low branch where a thrush was perched.

Hunting in trees? Bramblestar thought. Not a chance!

To his surprise, Jessy leaped up the tree trunk, quick as a fox. The thrush spotted her, and with a loud alarm call fluttered away into the next tree. Without hesitating, Jessy ran out along the branch and jumped after the thrush, pinning it to the next branch with one paw. The thrush struggled and nearly got free; Jessy almost overbalanced as she lowered her head and managed to bite it in the throat. She hopped down neatly with the thrush in her jaws and dropped it at Bramblestar’s paws.

Bramblestar thought he had never seen a cat look so smug. And I told her I bet she’d never caught anything!

“Wow, that was great!” Dovewing exclaimed.

“Oh, Jessy’s a brilliant hunter,” Frankie told them. “And she loves to climb. Hey, Jessy, did you tell them about the time your housefolk thought you were stuck on the roof?”

Jessy tossed her head. “I can’t believe they thought I couldn’t get down!”

“Yes,” Frankie purred, “but you could have shown them before they climbed onto the roof themselves.”

Jessy swished her tail and looked innocent.

“I shouldn’t have dismissed your skills,” Bramblestar admitted to her. “That’s a rare skill, being able to jump between trees. Firestar wanted ThunderClan cats to learn, but it doesn’t come easily to us.”

“I’ve never felt comfortable being off the ground,” Dovewing agreed. “I don’t have wings, in spite of my name.”

“Maybe I should give you some lessons,” Jessy suggested. There was a teasing glint in her eye.

“Maybe you should,” Bramblestar mewed, meeting her gaze. “Meanwhile let’s head for the ShadowClan border and see what else we can find. Jessy, if you scratch some earth over that thrush, we’ll pick it up on the way back.”

As the five cats headed off, Bramblestar felt more relaxed than he had for days. It was good to be part of a patrol, without the weight of his duties as Clan leader. And he was impressed by how well Jessy was fitting in.

Every cat was keeping a lookout for prey; Dovewing was the first to spot a shrew scrabbling in the grass at the foot of a mossy bank. “Frankie,” she murmured, angling her ears toward the tiny creature. “See that? Try catching it. And remember… quiet!”

Looking determined, the gray tabby tom crept toward the shrew. He remembered to set his paws down carefully, but he had forgotten about his tail, which swept over a clump of long grass. The shrew darted away as the shadow of the grass fell across it. Frankie hurled himself at it in an enormous leap, but his claws hit the ground just short of his prey. The shrew veered away in a panic, right into the claws of Dovewing, who killed it with one quick blow.

“I missed it!” Frankie wailed.

“But you drove it straight into my paws,” Dovewing pointed out. “We make a great team!”

A pleased purr rose in Frankie’s throat.

“What about you, Minty?” Bramblestar asked. “Can you spot anything? Or hear anything?”

Minty gazed around confusedly. “It’s all so strange,” she confessed.