Bramblestar’s Storm

But as the patrol set out again, Bramblestar admitted to himself that he was starting to have his own doubts about their mission. I can’t let Tawnypelt’s Clan suffer, he insisted. And we need to protect our own territory. But his paws prickled at the thought of being caught here by a ShadowClan patrol.

A little farther on, Bramblestar realized that the pine trees had begun to thin out. He stiffened as he caught a faint trace of a Twoleg and a dog, then relaxed as he realized that they were long gone.

Jessy trotted up to his side. “Do you see that tree stump?” she mewed, waving her tail at the remains of a lightning-blasted tree. “I’m pretty sure I recognize it. We must be getting close.” She went on more cautiously, sniffing here and there, while the rest of the patrol bunched together as they followed.

“There’s kittypet scent here,” Jessy announced, raising her head. “And I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who have been harassing ShadowClan.”

“How sure are you?” Blossomfall pressed. “We can’t attack innocent kittypets.”

“No kittypets are innocent!” Snowpaw declared. “They’re all fat and lazy.”

Jessy cleared her throat meaningfully.

Snowpaw glanced sideways at her, his ears flattened. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“We won’t fight any needless battles,” Bramblestar assured his Clanmates. “Ivypool, you go off in that direction”—he waved his tail—“and Cinderheart, you go that way. Look for more traces of the kittypets, and any sign of ShadowClan patrols.”

I really don’t want to be caught here, he thought as the two she-cats headed off in opposite directions. These are ShadowClan hunting grounds now.

Bramblestar waited until Cinderheart and Ivypool returned, reporting no further traces of the kittypets.

“We’ll have to go closer to their dens,” Jessy meowed. “This way.” She led them on until the trees thinned out even more, and dense undergrowth filled the gaps between the trunks. Wriggling his way through thick bushes that snagged his fur and soaked him to the skin, Bramblestar emerged into an open space with a line of Twoleg fences at the far side. Twoleg dens, built of reddish stone, reared up beyond the fences.

The rest of the patrol emerged, bristling at the unfamiliar surroundings and the strong scent of Twolegs, though Cloudtail padded over to Bramblestar and murmured, “This reminds me of the old forest, where the trees met the Twolegplace.”

“You’re right,” Bramblestar agreed. “The same plants, the same kind of smells…”

“My mother, Princess, came from a den like these,” Cloudtail added. “So did Firestar.”

Bramblestar nodded, feeling a pang of unexpected regret that he would never see the old forest again. But a heartbeat later he was distracted by Jessy calling to him.

“I know where I am now! I recognize that big tree with the white flowers. Come on!”

She began running ahead, more confident with every stride, while the rest of the patrol raced after her.

“Look, there’s the den with the broken fence!” Jessy meowed. “And the place where I played with some little Twolegs. It’s not far now.”

“I think she’s just showing off,” Thornclaw grumbled as he bounded along at Bramblestar’s side.

“We’d be lost without her,” Lionblaze pointed out. “Literally.”

Finally Jessy stopped and the patrol gathered around her. “The kittypet who lives behind this fence is called Victor, I think,” she began. “He comes into the woods with Ziggy and Riga. If any cats are going to cause trouble, it’ll be those three.”

“Thanks, Jessy.” Bramblestar turned to his Clanmates. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Jessy and I will scout ahead.”

He noticed that the warriors didn’t look too happy, but none of them protested as he jumped up to the top of the fence. Jessy followed him and together they looked down onto the neat square of grass behind the Twoleg den, surrounded by bushes and brightly colored Twoleg flowers.

“No sign of Victor,” Jessy commented. “He might have gone to visit the others.”

“Then let’s go look,” Bramblestar meowed.

With Jessy in the lead they ran along the top of the fence, checking the enclosed spaces, each with its square of grass. Bramblestar could scent several different cats, but they didn’t see any.

Suddenly a stronger aroma wafted over Bramblestar. “Who are you, and what do you want?” a voice growled from behind him.

Bramblestar turned, balancing awkwardly on the narrow fence-top. A muscular black-and-white tom stood in front of him, his teeth bared in the beginnings of a snarl.

“Who wants to know?” Bramblestar asked. “Are you Victor?”

“No, I’m a friend of his,” the black-and-white tom replied. “My name’s Webster.” He peered around Bramblestar and spoke to Jessy. “I’ve seen you around, whatever your name is. What are you doing with these wild cats?”

“I’m Jessy, and this is Bramblestar,” Jessy replied. “We’ve come to tell you to leave the wild cats alone.”