Bramblestar’s Storm

“He’s Clan leader now!” Daisy told the gray-and-white tom.

“Really?” Smoky didn’t sound impressed.

“Where’s Floss?” Daisy asked, looking around. “I can’t wait to see her again.”

Smoky bowed his head, and his voice was somber as he replied, “Floss is dead.”

“No!” Daisy exclaimed. “How did it happen?”

“She caught greencough,” Smoky explained. “The Twolegs tried to treat her, but it was no use.”

For a few heartbeats Daisy was too upset to speak. She flexed her front claws, ripping up the turf. Smoky pressed himself to her side. “If you like, I’ll show you where she’s buried,” he mewed.

Daisy nodded mutely. Bramblestar followed a pace or two behind as Smoky led Daisy around the back of the barn to a small mound of fresh earth.

“Pip’s buried here, too,” Smoky told her. “You remember the dog? He was an annoying little flea-pelt, but now that he’s gone, I kinda miss him.”

Daisy turned a shocked look on the horseplace cat. “So much has happened!” she gasped. “And I’m only a moment’s travel away. How could I not have known?”

Smoky shrugged. “I know I’m not welcome in the woods or on the moor. Besides, Daisy, you made the choice to leave us. We have to respect that.”

For a heartbeat, Bramblestar thought Daisy looked as though she was regretting her decision. Movement at the corner of his eye distracted him. He turned to see a young she-cat appear around the side of the barn, her tortoiseshell-and-white pelt shining in the sunlight.

“You’re new here,” Daisy commented as the newcomer bounded up. There was an edge to her tone, and her fur began to fluff up. “Who are you?”

“This is Coriander,” Smoky mewed, brushing his pelt against the tortoiseshell cat. “She replaced Floss. She’s a great mouser!”

“Replaced Floss?” Daisy sounded even more upset. “How can any cat replace Floss?”

Bramblestar rested his tail-tip on her shoulder, trying to warn her silently that there was no point in getting agitated. Daisy seemed to understand, and took a deep breath. “Greetings,” she meowed, dipping her head to Coriander.

The young she-cat didn’t return the gesture. “You must be some of those weird cats from the woods,” she mewed. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting,” Daisy told her through gritted teeth. “Was that you watching us go to the island last night?” she asked Smoky.

Smoky nodded. “Yes, Coriander wanted to see these famous cats, and I know that you all go to the island on the night of the full moon, so we lay in wait.”

“You should have come to talk to us,” Daisy meowed.

“Well…” Smoky scuffled his paws awkwardly in the grass. “We didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Okay.” Daisy’s shoulders sagged, and Bramblestar could see that the visit wasn’t turning out the way she had hoped. “I guess it’s time we left.”

“Don’t you want to see inside the barn?” Smoky asked. “You can hunt if you want.”

Daisy didn’t look enthusiastic, but she followed Smoky and Coriander as they headed for the entrance to the barn. Bramblestar trotted just behind her. Inside, the wood-sided den was warm and musty. It was much smaller than the barn where Barley and Ravenpaw used to live near the old forest, but it smelled the same, of dust and dried grass and tempting scents of prey. Golden dust motes danced in shafts of sunlight that slanted in through holes just beneath the roof. Scuffling noises in the piles of hay showed the presence of mice, and Bramblestar’s mouth watered.

“It’s all changed,” Daisy commented. “You used to have your nest over here.”

“I know,” Smoky responded. “But Coriander says it’s less drafty over there.” He indicated a deep hollow in the hay with a flick of his tail.

“Yes,” Coriander agreed. “It’s so comfortable!”

Bramblestar saw Daisy’s claws slide out, and gave her a hasty nudge. “We really should be getting back,” he mewed.

Daisy nodded. “Yes, there’s loads to do back in the camp.”

“Good-bye, then.” Smoky sounded quite cheerful to let Daisy go, and Bramblestar noticed he didn’t invite her to drop in again.

“Do be careful on your way home,” Coriander added with a gleam in her amber eyes. “The horses can be quite scary if you’re not used to them.”

“I’m fine with horses, thanks,” Daisy snapped, whipping around and stalking out of the barn with her tail held high. Resisting a purr of amusement, Bramblestar followed her.

On the journey back through WindClan territory, Daisy was unusually quiet.

Bramblestar thought he should say something. “It’s always hard to go back,” he offered sympathetically.

Daisy halted and stared at him. “I didn’t want to go back!” she protested. “Not forever. I know I belong in ThunderClan now, but I hadn’t expected things to change so much. Why didn’t I know that Floss had died? Has Smoky forgotten about her already because of Coriander? I thought he loved Floss!”

For a moment, an image of Squirrelflight flashed into Bramblestar’s mind. She was standing in the hollow surrounded by three fluffed-up kits, trying to coax them to eat a piece of vole.

“We want milk!” squeaked the she-cat, as black as a yew branch.