Bramblestar's Storm

by Erin Hunter

  The scent grew stronger. Determined to find out more, Bramblestar risked venturing into the trees above ShadowClan’s border, his Clanmates treading warily behind him. Thrusting through a dense patch of ferns, he halted on the edge of a clearing and stared in horror at the scene of destruction.

  Grass and bracken were trampled down over a wide area. The reek of blood hit Bramblestar in the throat, and he spotted streaks and splotches of it on the grass. Tufts of fur lay scattered, most of it from cats.

  “Oh, StarClan!” he whispered. “Did any cats die here?”

  Brackenfur gave him a hard prod in the side. “ShadowClan’s coming!” he hissed.

  Bramblestar hadn’t heard the approaching patrol. Rapidly he backed into the ferns and crouched down with Graystripe and Brackenfur beside him, hoping that the stench of battle in the clearing would hide their ThunderClan scent. Peering through the arching fern fronds, Bramblestar watched the ShadowClan patrol cross the clearing, heading deeper into the woods. Rowanstar was in the lead, with Tigerheart, Ferretclaw, and Tawnypelt. All of them looked battered and scarred.

  That must be from fighting with the badgers, Bramblestar thought.

  As the patrol disappeared into the undergrowth, Tawnypelt, who was bringing up the rear, suddenly halted. She looked around, her jaws parted to taste the air. Then she ran across the clearing toward the ferns. Bramblestar rose to his paws and stepped out into the open to meet her.

  “We’re not trying to cause trouble,” he meowed before she could speak. “We never meant for you to know we’d been here.”

  “You’re my brother,” Tawnypelt responded. “I’d recognize your scent anywhere.”

  Bramblestar winced when he saw fresh cuts across his sister’s muzzle and a clump of fur missing from her shoulder. “We were tracking the badgers,” he explained. “Have they moved into your territory?”

  “Not our usual territory,” Tawnypelt mewed. “But there are some old sandy sets in these woods. It looks like several badgers have moved in since the flood. The water must have driven them out of their original homes.”

  “Well, the floods are going down now,” Bramblestar mewed, trying to sound hopeful. “Maybe they’ll go back where they came from.”

  “And maybe hedgehogs will fly,” Tawnypelt growled. “Bramblestar, my Clan is suffering so much. . . . The kittypets have stopped bothering us since you fought them, but now the badgers are making it impossible for us to hunt here. And most of our old territory is still underwater.” She lowered her head, and her voice was full of shame as she continued. “I was too harsh with you before,” she confessed. “Rowanstar and I—and all of ShadowClan—should have been more grateful for your help with the kittypets.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Bramblestar murmured, touching his nose to her ear. “I know we should never have interfered. It won’t happen again.”

  Tawnypelt raised her head again, her green gaze locking with her brother’s. “Do you really mean that? Because I don’t think we can fight these badgers alone. We’re too weak, too hungry.”

  Bramblestar gazed at her. “Are you asking for ThunderClan’s help?”

  Tawnypelt took a deep breath. “Yes,” she meowed. “I am.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Bramblestar’s mind was whirling as he went back to Brackenfur and Graystripe. He said nothing to his warriors, and they accepted his silence and didn’t question him.

  Rowanstar made it clear that he didn’t want any more interference from ThunderClan, Bramblestar thought as he led the way back to camp. I respect that. But it’s clear that ShadowClan is in great trouble. Can I stand aside and let them fall? That night, as he curled up in his nest, Bramblestar raised his head and prayed silently to StarClan. Send me a dream, he begged. Speak to me and tell me what I should do.

  As sleep surged over him, Bramblestar found himself walking beside the lake—a lake shrunk back into its old boundaries. Pale sunlight glinted on the water, turning it to silver, the surface ruffled by a gentle breeze. Bramblestar looked around, expecting to see Firestar. Instead the wispy shape of an enormous cat began to appear on the other side of the lake, taller than the trees, broader than a Twoleg den, the tips of her ears reaching up to the clouds. As the figure grew more solid, Bramblestar saw that it was a dark gray she-cat with a broad, flat face and amber eyes. Not Firestar, but Yellowfang!

  The former medicine cat stood at the edge of the lake, and at her paws the silver water turned red with blood: swirls of blood that rose to the surface of the water until the whole lake was scarlet.

  Bramblestar’s eyes stretched wide. “Is that how much blood is going to be spilled?” he whispered.

  “Blood does not have to mean death,” Yellowfang meowed, her voice echoing from the hills. “It can bring more strength than you can imagine.”

  “What do you mean?” Bramblestar protested. “I don’t understand!”

  But Yellowfang didn’t reply. Her form began to fade again, and at the same moment the scarlet water rose and flooded over Bramblestar, sweeping him off his feet. He struggled, flailing his paws, but the water choked him in its salty grip and he sank into a swirling darkness.

  Bramblestar jolted awake, trembling. Faint moonlight spilled into the tunnel. He felt a paw on his shoulder, gently calming him, and looked up to see that Jessy had left her nest and was bending over him.

  “Was it a bad dream?” she murmured.

  “More than that,” Bramblestar muttered, staggering to his paws. “I need to speak with the medicine cats.”

  “You can talk to me if you want,” Jessy offered.

  “No, this is medicine-cat stuff.” Seeing Jessy’s hurt expression, Bramblestar added, “I’ll tell you later.”

  He picked his way through the sleeping cats, heading farther down the tunnel to where the medicine cats slept. Jayfeather roused at the sound of his approach, though Leafpool remained curled up, sunk deeply in sleep.

  “What do you want?” Jayfeather asked as Bramblestar reached his side.

  “I need to talk to you and Leafpool.”

  Jayfeather whisked out his tail to block Bramblestar as he reached out a paw to shake Leafpool’s shoulder. “Let her sleep,” he warned. “She was up earlier to give Sandstorm some tansy for her cough. We can wake her later if we need her.”

  Bramblestar nodded. “Let’s talk outside.”

  In the open, he took a long breath of the clear, cool air. The night was calm and quiet, with not even a faint breeze to stir the branches. The moon was floating above the trees, beginning to swell toward full.

  “Leafpool and I have missed a medicine-cat meeting at the Moonpool,” Jayfeather remarked. “But I doubt many of the others were there. RiverClan is still cut off, and we don’t know what the floods are like in the mountains.”

  “I hope we can get to the next Gathering,” Bramblestar mewed. “We’ve already missed one. Have you had any omens about the water going down?”

  Jayfeather shook his head. “Not a whisper. Only the signs of the waterline dropping below the sticks on the slope.”

  Bramblestar sighed. “I suppose we can only wait. But meanwhile,” he continued, trying to feel more optimistic, “the kittypets are settling in well. Especially Jessy. Did you hear how much fresh-kill she brought in from her last patrol?”

  Jayfeather gave him a sidelong glance, his narrowed blue eyes so sharp that it was hard to remember he was blind. “You’re spending a lot of time with Jessy. . . .” he murmured. “You shouldn’t let any cats think you care more for the kittypets than your Clanmates.”

  For a moment Bramblestar was outraged. I raised this cat! I licked him warm when he was a kit, and comforted him when he got a thorn in his pad. And now he’s making comments about my private life! Then he remembered that Jayfeather wasn’t a kit anymore. He was ThunderClan’s medicine cat, with every right to poke his nose into his Clan leader’s business.

  “All the kittypets need my time if they’re to fit into the Clan,” he responded, aware
that he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

  Jayfeather hesitated for a moment, and Bramblestar braced himself for a stinging retort. But then the medicine cat shrugged, as if he too wasn’t comfortable talking about Jessy. “Did you bring me out here to enjoy the night air?” he meowed.

  “No,” Bramblestar replied. “I had a dream. . . .” Struggling to find the right words, he told Jayfeather about Yellowfang’s appearance beside the lake, and the blood that had risen when her paws touched the water. He repeated the mysterious words she had spoken. “She said, ‘Blood does not have to mean death. It can bring more strength than you can imagine.’ Jayfeather, what do you think she meant? Is there going to be another terrible battle? Was Yellowfang trying to warn me?”

  Jayfeather twitched his whiskers. “It doesn’t sound like a warning of doom,” he admitted. “It’s more like . . . something strong. It’s obviously connected with that other dream you had, about Firestar,” he continued. “‘When water meets blood, blood will rise.’”

  “And what does that mean?” Bramblestar asked tartly. “Why can’t StarClan tell us something clearly, instead of talking in riddles?”

  “StarClan tells us as much as they want us to know,” Jayfeather retorted. “And sometimes even they don’t hold all the answers. You can’t expect them to know everything. Sometimes they are just cats, like us. Trust your own instincts, Bramblestar. That’s why StarClan made you leader, because they had faith in you.”

  Bramblestar returned to his nest, and this time his sleep was untroubled by dreams. When he woke, sunlight was pouring in through the tunnel mouth, and most of the nests around him were empty. He sprang to his paws, alarmed that he had overslept.

  “Take it easy, Bramblestar.”

  At the sound of Jessy’s voice Bramblestar turned to see the brown she-cat sitting in her nest with her tail wrapped neatly around her paws.

  “I told the others not to disturb you,” she mewed. “I know you were awake during the night.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Bramblestar responded, half-appreciative and half-annoyed, “but a Clan leader can expect to have broken nights.”

  “But you’re not just a Clan leader,” Jessy pointed out, rising to her paws and padding over to Bramblestar. “You’re a cat, too. You need to look after yourself as well as everyone else.”

  Bramblestar touched his nose to her ear. “Maybe you’re right.”

  He padded out into the clearing with Jessy following him, to discover that the first patrols had already gone out. Squirrelflight was heading down the slope with Bumblestripe, Berrynose, and Rosepetal behind her.

  “Squirrelflight!” Bramblestar called, pleased that he had caught her. “I need a word with you.”

  His deputy halted and turned to Bumblestripe. “You lead the patrol,” she ordered. “Check the water levels, then try hunting over toward WindClan. We haven’t been there for a day or two.” She watched the patrol leave before bounding over to Bramblestar. She looked faintly surprised when she saw Jessy with him, but gave the she-cat a polite nod. “How can I help?”

  Bramblestar glanced around, spotting Graystripe beside the fresh-kill pile and beckoning him over with a wave of his tail. “Are any of the other senior warriors still here? I need to speak with all of them.”

  “Cloudtail and Thornclaw are on a border patrol,” Squirrelflight replied. “Brackenfur and Dustpelt went to look for more branches for the dens, but they only just left. I’ll see if I can catch them.” She shot off into the undergrowth.

  While he waited for her to return, Bramblestar went back into the tunnel, where he found Sandstorm talking to Purdy. For once she was telling him a story. “So Firestar—he was Firepaw then—was hunting in the old forest and he came upon this skinny old gray she-cat . . .”

  “Sandstorm, I need you outside for a moment,” Bramblestar meowed.

  “Sure.” Sandstorm rose to her paws. “I’ll finish the story later, Purdy.”

  The elder looked up at her, blinking. “See that you do,” he purred. “You spin a good yarn.”

  Sandstorm stifled a mrrow of amusement. “Praise indeed!”

  Bramblestar padded farther down the tunnel, where he found Jayfeather hauling himself out of his nest, his jaws parted in a massive yawn. Leafpool was still asleep.

  “Jayfeather, I’ve called a meeting,” Bramblestar meowed. “Come and join us outside.”

  When he emerged into the clearing again, followed by the medicine cat, he saw Squirrelflight returning with Dustpelt and Brackenfur. They all gathered together at the foot of the mudpile.

  Jessy was standing nearby, her eyes bright with interest, but she didn’t join the others, as if she wasn’t sure if she was invited.

  “Jessy,” Bramblestar mewed, “could you find Frankie and Minty and help them practice their hunting moves?”

  “Sure,” Jessy replied, heading off cheerfully with her tail in the air.

  “So what’s all this about?” Squirrelflight asked when the kittypet had gone.

  “I think I can guess,” Brackenfur growled.

  Graystripe nodded. “The badgers, right?”

  Bramblestar told them about his patrol the day before, and how they had found badger scent and the evidence of a battle just inside ShadowClan’s extended hunting grounds. He added what he hadn’t even told Graystripe and Brackenfur yet: his conversation with Tawnypelt and her plea for help.

  “Are you completely mouse-brained?” Dustpelt growled when he had finished. “You know how much trouble we got into with Rowanstar when we fought off those kittypets.”

  “Yes, let ShadowClan fight their own battles now,” Brackenfur agreed.

  Bramblestar had expected to get this response, but at the same time he couldn’t bear to picture his sister and her Clan struggling against the badgers alone. “What do you think, Graystripe?”

  “I know how you feel, Bramblestar,” Graystripe began, “but none of us want to fight again. Look how badly injured Lionblaze was. You could easily lose warriors if we take on the badgers. Is that what you want?”

  “But the badgers are very close to our territory,” Squirrelflight reminded the others. “If we don’t deal with them now, we could be storing up trouble for later.”

  “True.” Dustpelt raised one hind paw and scratched his ear. “But we can meet that trouble when it happens.”

  A cough shook Sandstorm’s body before she spoke. “Remember the time the badgers attacked us in the stone hollow?” she rasped. “What if we fight them and they follow us back here? We’re barely surviving as it is.”

  “So what you’re all saying,” Bramblestar mewed, “is that we should deal with the badgers if they interfere with our hunting, but not before?”

  Murmurs of agreement came from all the cats, though he thought Squirrelflight remained doubtful. He knew he couldn’t argue anymore. “Okay,” he decided, “I see your point. But I want to lead a patrol up there now, to see if there are any new developments. We’ll have to keep a close watch on ShadowClan territory from now on. The first sign that those badgers are crossing into our adopted territory, we have to be ready for them.”

  No cat objected to that. Bramblestar led them all out, except for Sandstorm, who went back to finish her story for Purdy. For once the graceful she-cat didn’t ask to go with the warriors, but seemed happy to go back to the tunnel.

  By now the forest beyond the border was becoming familiar to the ThunderClan cats. Bramblestar was aware of the moment when they reached the invisible boundary with ShadowClan. There were no scent markers, but fresh scents of the rival Clan drifted to his nose from close by.

  “This is weird,” Brackenfur muttered. “Do you think these borders could ever become permanent?”

  “You mean, extend our territory out here and still keep it safe?” Dustpelt sounded doubtful. “Could we even do that?”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to,” Bramblestar meowed, dismayed at the thought of trying to keep such a long border efficiently patrolled.


  As the patrol padded along the edge of ShadowClan territory Bramblestar began to pick up new scents of blood and fear, along with the strong reek of badger. His pelt prickled. “There must have been another fight since yesterday.”

  “That’s not our problem,” Dustpelt reminded him sharply.

  “Especially if Rowanstar hasn’t asked for our help,” Graystripe added. “We could find ourselves fighting ShadowClan as well as the badgers.”

  With no evidence that the badgers had come any closer to ThunderClan hunting territory, Bramblestar knew there was nothing to do but turn around and head back to camp. His anxiety for ShadowClan and Tawnypelt was growing with every sign of conflict, yet he didn’t know what he could say to his Clanmates to change their minds.

  Desperate for a quiet place to think, when he reached the camp he climbed the slope until he could sit alone above the tunnel entrance. Warmed by the sun on his shoulders, he looked down at his Clanmates.

  Lionblaze had just entered the clearing at the head of a hunting patrol. They were loaded down with prey: two squirrels, a blackbird, and more mice than Bramblestar could count. Lionblaze had recovered from his wounds, and his golden tabby pelt gleamed in the sunlight. When he had dropped his catch on the fresh-kill pile he padded up to Cinderheart, touched noses with her, and gave her ears a loving lick. The two cats withdrew to a sunny spot and stretched out together to share tongues.

  Jayfeather was out in the weak sunshine too, taking Briarlight through her exercises. Bramblestar was pleased to see that she had regained some of her strength; she was fast and nimble on her front paws. She was practicing pulling herself up on the low-hanging branch of an elder bush, then letting herself roll onto her back with a yowl of triumph.

  “What? What’s all the yowlin’ about?” Just below Bramblestar, Purdy rushed out of the tunnel. “Is it badgers? Just let me at ‘em!”