Bramblestar’s Storm

Bramblestar tasted the air again and realized that the ShadowClan patrol would reach them in a few heartbeats. He knew that if he left Frankie where he was, the ShadowClan cats would try to drive him off, and probably injure him badly if he couldn’t run away fast enough.

“Jessy, climb the tree,” he ordered. “Lionblaze and I will help Frankie.”

To his relief the she-cat didn’t argue. She clawed her way up the trunk, clumsily but fast, and joined Cinderheart and Poppyfrost in the branches.

Bramblestar turned to Lionblaze. “You push and I’ll pull,” he meowed.

Grabbing Frankie by the scruff, Bramblestar dug his claws into the trunk of the pine tree. It felt like hauling a piece of dead prey, although Frankie was heavier than even the biggest squirrel. Lionblaze boosted him from below, and gradually they began to climb.

Bramblestar’s belly churned because they were taking so long to reach the denser branches, where they would be hidden. Frankie wasn’t even trying to help himself; he seemed paralyzed by fear. As they forced themselves higher, Bramblestar could hear racing paw steps and the sounds of cats brushing through undergrowth.

They must have seen us!

Panting, he dragged Frankie onto the closest branch. Lionblaze joined them a moment later, and the dark pine needles enfolded them. Peering down, Bramblestar saw the ShadowClan patrol burst out of the bushes. Crowfrost was in the lead, with Pinenose, Ferretclaw, and his apprentice, Spikepaw.

For a heartbeat Bramblestar expected them to surround the tree and yowl out a challenge. Instead they just dashed on, passing right under the tree without picking up the ThunderClan or kittypet scent. Their fur was bristling and their eyes were wide with tension, darting here and there as they ran.

“What’s wrong with them?” Lionblaze whispered, staring after the ShadowClan patrol. “They’re not hunting, or checking scent markers.”

“Who knows?” Bramblestar meowed tiredly. “At least they didn’t spot us. Now, help me get Frankie down off this branch.”

By the time the cats reached the ThunderClan border they were all wet and exhausted.

“This is where we live,” Bramblestar told Jessy and Frankie.

“Here? Really?” Jessy sounded incredulous as she gazed around.

Bramblestar could understand the kittypet’s disbelief. The territory looks so different since the storm. Everywhere had the harsh tang of the sun-drown-water, and even the trees that were clear of the flood looked sick. Bramblestar wished he could show his home to Jessy on a sunny day in greenleaf, with leaves rustling above and the warm scent of prey in every thicket.

They had abandoned the tub at the edge of the lake because it was too awkward to push through the undergrowth. Poppyfrost and Lionblaze dragged the pelt between them as the patrol headed for the tunnel. By now it was wet, filthy, and stinking, and kept tearing when it caught on concealed roots or sharp stones.

As they approached the makeshift camp, Bramblestar spotted several cats outside the tunnel and saw their looks of shock as they realized that he was bringing more kittypets to join them.

Jayfeather, who had been supervising Briarlight’s exercises, came to meet the returning patrol. “What’s this?” he demanded, giving Jessy and Frankie a disdainful sniff. “Are you turning ThunderClan into a home for lost kittypets?”

Bramblestar glared at his medicine cat; even though he knew he was adding to the Clan’s problems, he thought Jayfeather could have sounded more welcoming. “They needed our help,” he retorted. “Frankie especially. Do you have anything to calm him down?”

Jayfeather heaved a deep sigh. “Like I don’t have enough to do. Okay, I’ll take a look.” He trotted back to the tunnel entrance and vanished. Soon he reappeared with a bundle of thyme leaves in his jaws. “Here,” he mewed to Frankie, dropping the leaves in front of him. “Eat these. They’re good for shock. When you’re feeling better, I’ll give you poppy seed so you can sleep.”

Frankie sniffed the leaves and took a step back, curling his lip. “I don’t eat green stuff,” he mewed.

Jayfeather shrugged. “Okay, so suffer. Your choice.”

“You should eat them,” Cinderheart urged him. “They really will make you feel better.”

Frankie still hesitated until Jessy gave him a hard nudge. “Eat, flea-brain.”

Still reluctant, Frankie licked up the leaves and swallowed them, then kept passing his tongue over his jaws as if he was trying to get rid of the taste.

Bramblestar realized that Squirrelflight had padded up beside him and was surveying the kittypets with a disapproving gaze. “Honestly, Bramblestar,” she meowed, “what were you thinking? Two more kittypets! How are we going to feed all these extra mouths? It’s not like they can hunt for themselves.”

“Would you rather I left them behind to die?” Bramblestar asked.

Squirrelflight rolled her eyes. “No, I suppose not. But it’s not making life any easier. Did you at least bring back something useful?”