Bramblestar’s Storm

Spiderleg flashed past Bramblestar and flung himself on top of Amberpaw, hiding her from the rook. The bird battered at him with its wings and tried to fasten its claws into his back. Bramblestar let out a defiant yowl and hurled himself at the rook, his claws slashing at it. The rook squawked again and beat its wings to avoid his blows. Before it could gain height, Jessy leaped into the air and grabbed it. She fell back to the ground and rolled over, the rook flapping furiously in an attempt to escape. Its harsh cry was cut off as it went limp. Panting, Jessy rose to her paws and stood over her prey.

“That was outstanding!” Bramblestar meowed. “Great job, Jessy!”

Jessy’s eyes shone with pride.

“We’re on a border patrol,” Spiderleg muttered as he scrambled off Amberpaw and smoothed down his ruffled fur. “Not a hunting patrol.”

“All fresh-kill is welcome,” Bramblestar retorted. “Amberpaw, are you okay?”

The apprentice tottered a little as she regained her paws, and checked herself for injuries. “I’m fine, thanks, Bramblestar.”

“If that rook attacked us,” Bramblestar mewed thoughtfully, “there must be a new nest somewhere close by.” He peered up into the trees and spotted an untidy cluster of twigs lodged in the fork of a branch in a nearby ash tree. “Up there,” he murmured.

Stealthily he began to climb the trunk, trying to stay out of sight of the nest until he could look down on it from above. A moment later he realized that Jessy was following him, leaving her catch at the bottom of the tree.

Soon Bramblestar reached a branch from where he could see into the nest. A mother rook was sitting there; at the sight of Bramblestar she half rose, revealing a small clutch of pale blue, brown-speckled eggs. As she settled again, her berry-bright eyes still fixed on him, Bramblestar slid out his claws, intent on more fresh-kill.

“No, leave her!” Jessy protested. “She’s about to be a mother. You’d be killing her chicks as well!” Then she paused and gave her chest fur a few embarrassed licks. “Okay, I’m talking like a kittypet,” she admitted.

“No, we’ll leave her,” Bramblestar meowed. As they turned to climb down the tree, he added mischievously, “We’ll come back when the chicks have hatched.”

Jessy swiped at him, her claws sheathed, before leaping to the ground.

Spiderleg, waiting at the bottom of the tree, looked unimpressed. “Are we going home, or what?” he grumbled.

When the patrol arrived back at the tunnel, Frankie and Minty hurried forward to admire Jessy’s rook. Bramblestar looked around for Squirrelflight, to report to her about the badger traces, but before he spotted her Bumblestripe sprang up from where he was sitting beside the mudpile and raced over to him.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” the young warrior meowed. “I need to talk to you about Dovewing.”

Anxiety sprang up inside Bramblestar. “Is something wrong?”

Bumblestripe shifted his paws uncomfortably. “Follow me,” he mewed.

At Bramblestar’s nod, he led the way along the tunnel and past the nests, into the shadows beyond.

“You haven’t been going down here, have you?” Bramblestar asked, astonishment and fear making his heart thud. “You know the tunnels are dangerous!”

“I know,” Bumblestripe assured him. “But Dovewing’s safe. You just need to see this.”

Unpleasant memories of the drain and Benny’s body filled Bramblestar’s mind as he followed Bumblestripe into the narrow, dripping darkness. For all his efforts to concentrate, he kept bumping into the walls. His pads grew numb from the cold, damp floor and every hair on his pelt longed to turn and head back to the light.

Then Bramblestar heard a faint meowing coming from somewhere ahead. “What’s that?” he asked sharply, halting.

“Shh!” Bumblestripe whispered. “Listen!”

“Hello! Hello!” The sound came echoing up the tunnel.

Now Bramblestar recognized the voice. “It’s Dovewing! Is she lost?” he gasped.

“No,” Bumblestripe replied. “Come on.”

Bramblestar followed him, creeping forward until they came to a place where three tunnels met. A thin shaft of light pierced the darkness from a crack in the roof. Peering over Bumblestripe’s shoulder, Bramblestar could see Dovewing standing with her back toward them. Clearly she had no idea they were there.

“Hello! Hello!” she called again. Then she waited in silence, her ears pricked, as her voice echoed away down the tunnels.

“What’s she doing?” Bramblestar whispered.

Bumblestripe glanced back at him, his eyes filled with pain. “She’s testing how long she can hear the echoes,” he told Bramblestar. “She—she wants to be able to hear again.”

Chapter 27

“Hello!” Dovewing called again. “Hello!”

“But she’s not deaf,” Bramblestar murmured in dismay. I thought she had accepted that her powers had gone.

“She thinks she is,” Bumblestripe responded. “Compared with how she was… before.”