“What is it?” Sandstorm asked.
“Purdy needs company,” Squirrelflight mewed. “And I don’t just mean those pesky apprentices. I know you could run the Clan without us—and so could Purdy, for that matter—but could you at least pretend that you want to spend more time with him? Don’t worry, we’ll still find things for you to do.”
Sandstorm’s green eyes glimmered. “I’ll do what I can,” she promised. “But perhaps the answer isn’t banishing more cats to the elders’ den, but getting Purdy more involved in Clan life. Why not put him in charge of bedding distribution along with Daisy?”
“That’s a great idea!” Bramblestar meowed. He headed farther up the tunnel to where Daisy was still struggling to share out the bedding she had collected. “You look as if you could do with another set of paws,” he told her. “Why not get Purdy to help?”
Daisy’s harassed expression brightened immediately. “Oh, I wonder if he would? I’ll go ask him right away.”
She headed down the tunnel and Bramblestar followed a few paces behind. Purdy looked taken aback when Daisy made her request. “Well… I’ve got my paws full keepin’ an eye on these young ’uns,” he meowed. “But I reckon if you really need me…”
“I do, Purdy!” Daisy assured him. “I’m so busy I don’t know where to start.”
“Well, then… you’d better show me what to do. You young cats behave now,” he added to the apprentices, “an’ I’ll tell you the story when I come back.”
Daisy padded back up the tunnel with Purdy at her flank, passing Bramblestar on their way to the heap of bedding. There was a proud gleam in Purdy’s eyes, and Bramblestar guessed there wouldn’t be any more fuss about taking his fair share of fresh-kill. Sandstorm, you know Purdy so well!
Hoping for a few moments alone, Bramblestar headed out of the tunnel and sharpened his claws on a nearby ash tree. They felt all clogged up with dirt and leaves, and he experienced a fierce satisfaction in seeing them gleaming again. I wish every problem could be solved by good fighting skills and a dose of courage, he thought, remembering how much simpler it had been to rip his claws through the pelt of a Dark Forest warrior. Coping with all these different cats is more exhausting than going into battle!
Night was beginning to fall by the time Bramblestar returned to the tunnel. His Clanmates were settling down among the sparse bedding, huddling together to share the precious moss. Before he went to his own nest, which Squirrelflight had prepared for him, Bramblestar set Cloudtail on watch at the entrance and Lionblaze farther down the tunnel beyond the last cats.
Now enemies can’t sneak up on us, and neither can the flood!
But the makeshift nests weren’t comfortable; the moss and leaves were damp in spite of Daisy’s efforts, and there wasn’t enough to go around. Even worse, a chilly draft whistled down the tunnel, lifting the cats’ fur.
“Can’t we go deeper into the tunnels?” Spiderleg asked Bramblestar. “That wind is freezing my ears off.”
“No, we can’t,” Bramblestar told him. “We can’t risk the river in the cave rising any higher.”
Spiderleg twitched his tail-tip. He didn’t argue, but Bramblestar heard him grumbling to himself as he curled up in his nest.
Eventually Bramblestar fell into an uneasy doze, and woke to see gray light flooding through the entrance. The Clan was rousing around him, looking tired and rumpled. But at least they’re all alive.
Bramblestar stood up and arched his back in a long stretch, trying not to wince as his muscles protested. At the entrance he spotted Squirrelflight with a number of cats clustered around her.
“We need hunting patrols,” she was meowing. “Sandstorm, will you lead one? And you, Mousewhisker… and Brightheart.”
Bramblestar relaxed from his stretch and stepped through the scattered bedding to join her. “We only need one border patrol,” he meowed. “I’ll lead it.”
Squirrelflight dipped her head. “Sure, Bramblestar. Which cats do you want?”
Bramblestar thought quickly. “Dovewing, Graystripe, and Thornclaw,” he decided. All levelheaded cats who can cope with whatever we find.
Venturing out at the head of his patrol, Bramblestar discovered that a light rain was falling, and a stiff breeze blew clouds across the sky, carrying the scent of the sun-drown-place from the lake. But the worst of the storm was over, and above his head he spotted an occasional glimpse of blue.
“We’ll avoid the WindClan border for today,” he meowed. “I need to think before we tackle that problem. Let’s go the other way and see what we can find out about ShadowClan.”
The patrol scrambled through the drenched forest toward the ShadowClan border. The water had risen to cover the old Thunderpath that led past the Twoleg den, leaving only a short stretch of the ShadowClan border still visible. Bramblestar ordered Thornclaw to renew the ThunderClan scent markers, but he couldn’t detect any fresh ShadowClan scent.
“They haven’t sent a patrol this way,” he remarked. “We’d better cross the border and find out what’s going on.”
“I hope they’re okay,” Dovewing murmured.
Briefly Bramblestar wondered why the young she-cat should be so anxious about their neighbors, then dismissed the thought. I’m anxious about them myself.
“It all looks so different,” Dovewing mewed as they took their first paw steps into ShadowClan territory. “I have no idea which way we should go.”
“We can’t get lost if we keep to the edge of the water,” Graystripe pointed out. “And it’s no use thinking we can keep to the safe ground three tail-lengths from the lakeshore.” His mouth twisted in wry amusement. “The safe ground is right in the middle of ShadowClan territory now.”
Looking around as he led the way along the waterline, Bramblestar tried to figure out where they were. On one side pine-covered slopes stretched upward. He could just make out the walls of the Twoleg den among the trees, and he wondered if the flood had reached the two hostile kittypets that gave ShadowClan so much trouble. On the other side stretched the floodwater, the gray surface interrupted by the dark pointed tops of pine trees. There was something familiar about the way the ground dipped toward the flood, and the shape of the bramble thicket ahead of them.
Bramblestar’s belly lurched. We’re above the ShadowClan camp! The whole of their hollow is filled with water!
The rest of his patrol had realized it too.
“So where are the cats?” Dovewing asked, working her claws in the soggy ground. “Something awful must have happened to them!”
As if they had heard her speaking, a ShadowClan patrol sprang out from behind a cluster of fir trees. Scorchfur was in the lead, with Pinenose and Ferretclaw just behind him. Ferretclaw’s apprentice, Spikepaw, brought up the rear.
“What are you doing here?” Scorchfur demanded, racing up to the ThunderClan patrol. “Get out!”
Bramblestar dipped his head, keen to avoid a hostile confrontation like the one with WindClan the day before. “We’re just making sure you survived the flood,” he replied. “We got worried when there were no fresh scent marks along your border.”
“ShadowClan doesn’t need ThunderClan to worry about us!” Scorchfur hissed.
“And we’re on our way to set the scent markers now,” Pinenose added, her black fur bristling.
For all their brave words, Bramblestar thought that the ShadowClan cats looked scared out of their fur, their eyes wide, their gazes darting from side to side as if they expected an enemy to pounce on them from out of the nearest cover. “I’m sorry about your camp,” he mewed, waving his tail toward the swirling water that filled the dip. “We’ve lost our home, too.”