“I’m here, Lilypaw.” That was Dewpaw, his voice comforting. “Lie closer to me. Seedpaw’s in StarClan now.”
Bramblestar’s heart felt as heavy as a rock. Too many cats have been lost… There are too many scratches on the Stick of the Fallen. And now the stick itself had caused the death of a young apprentice. Urgent questions swept through Bramblestar’s mind like leaves driven by the wind. Will the waters ever recede? Will the Clans be forced to look for yet another home? What would Firestar have done?
He was still vainly searching for answers in his thoughts when he heard soft paw steps behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Jessy emerge from the tunnel, shivering as the rain spattered against her pelt. I bet Firestar wouldn’t have filled the Clan with kittypet mouths to feed, he thought ruefully.
Jessy’s jaws gaped in a yawn; her tail was drooping, and she was clearly tired. Her gaze darted from side to side as she left the safety of the tunnel. But her paw steps were firm as she walked over to stand beside Bramblestar.
“You don’t live in this tunnel all the time, do you?” she asked curiously.
“No, our real camp is much better than this,” Bramblestar replied. “Do you want to see it? I could show you some of the territory if you like.” We’ll be back before patrols have to go out, he told himself, feeling slightly guilty at the thought of going off alone. And we could both do with a brisk run to warm up.
“Okay,” Jessy agreed. “Lead the way, wild cat.”
As they headed down the slope toward the stone hollow, Bramblestar realized that Jessy was stumbling over roots and bramble tendrils. She winced and let out a startled yelp as water showered over her from the low branch of a hazel bush.
“Are you okay?” he called. “We can go back if you want.”
“I’m fine,” Jessy insisted, giving her pelt a shake.
Bramblestar was half-amused and half-impressed by her determination. She’s not like any kittypet I’ve ever met before.
Reaching the top of the cliff, Bramblestar pushed through the brambles, leaving a tunnel for Jessy to follow, until they could look down into the flooded hollow. “You see that ledge with the hole in the rock?” he meowed, pointing with his tail to where the Highledge was just visible above the water. “That’s the Clan leader’s den… my den, now. Just below it, but a bit closer to us, used to be the warriors’ den. The apprentices’ den and the nursery were over the other side. The elders’—”
“Wow!” Jessy interrupted, her eyes wide. “You’re really well organized!”
“We have to look after ourselves,” Bramblestar meowed. “We can’t rely on Twolegs out here.”
Annoyance flashed briefly in Jessy’s eyes. “Just because we’re kittypets doesn’t mean we’re weak and lazy,” she retorted.
“I never said it did.” To avoid an argument Bramblestar retreated from the cliff edge and beckoned with his tail. “Do you want to see some more of our territory?”
He led the way along the top of the floodwater toward the WindClan border. Jessy padded at his shoulder. She seemed to have forgotten her irritation, instead gazing around her with interest, though she still tended to jump at the creaking of a branch or the sucking sound of water as it lapped against the slope.
Soon Bramblestar heard the rushing of the stream that marked the border, and his nose twitched at a strong scent of WindClan. Emerging from the trees, he spotted four cats heading downstream on the ThunderClan side: the WindClan deputy, Harespring, with his apprentice, Slightpaw, along with Crowfeather and Heathertail.
Bramblestar stiffened with rage. The WindClan warriors were blatantly trespassing. They’re so determined to keep the fresh water to themselves! He knew he couldn’t confront the WindClan cats when he was out here alone except for a kittypet. “Let’s go this way,” he suggested, thankful that Jessy didn’t seem to have noticed the patrol, and steered her away toward the top of the ridge.
Jessy followed, keeping on determinedly even though she started puffing as they headed up the steep hillside. When they reached the ridge, the brown she-cat’s eyes stretched wide with amazement at the view over the flooded lake and the remains of the forest.
“It’s amazing up here! I feel like a bird! I didn’t realize how far the water stretches,” she added more seriously. “Look, that’s my housefolk’s den over there. The floods are all around it.”
Bramblestar wasn’t sure which of the Twoleg dens she was pointing at. They all looked the same to him, poking up out of the waste of water.
“I used to like hunting in the backyard,” Jessy went on, “and in Frankie and Benny’s yard. Theirs was the best—full of thick bushes!”
By now Bramblestar was feeling colder than ever, and anxious to get back to the camp after spotting the WindClan patrol on the wrong side of the stream. “Yes, but you didn’t really hunt, did you?” he mewed. “It’s not like you needed to catch your own food. I bet you never caught a thing.”
“Catching your own food doesn’t make you better than me,” Jessy snapped. “Stop being so smug. No cat can help where they’re born!”
Bramblestar was taken aback by the strength of feeling in her tone and her blazing eyes. “Okay, you have a point,” he admitted. “You know,” he went on, hoping to make it up to her, “our last leader, Firestar, was a kittypet. He came into the forest when he was six moons old, and he was the best cat in the forest. Every cat in ThunderClan misses him.” His voice shook on the last few words.
Jessy’s anger faded. “Really? I wish I’d had a chance to meet him.”
“I wish you had, too,” Bramblestar responded, sadness washing over him as he realized how impossible that was. I’d give every bit of prey in the forest to have Firestar back.
When he and Jessy returned to the tunnel, Bramblestar found the cats milling about outside while Squirrelflight sorted out the first patrols of the day.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, swinging around to confront Bramblestar. Her green eyes sparked with annoyance.
“I took Jessy for a walk, to show her some of the territory,” Bramblestar explained.
Squirrelflight curled her lip. “If Jessy wants to see the territory, she can join a patrol!”
Irritation sparked beneath Bramblestar’s fur. Am I Clan leader or aren’t I? “I can walk where I like, and with any cat I like,” he retorted.
Squirrelflight said no more, but her shoulder fur was bristling, and Bramblestar felt as if the air between them had become as cold as ice. “Dovewing, Lionblaze,” she meowed, ignoring Bramblestar, “take a patrol each and check the ShadowClan border. Start at opposite ends and meet in the middle—and make sure the scent marks are good and strong,” she finished.
Lionblaze dipped his head. “Which cats should we take?”
“Let’s see…” Squirrelflight glanced around. “Blossomfall, Dustpelt, and Birchfall can go with you. Dovewing, take Spiderleg, Brightheart, and Cherryfall.”
Unseen by his deputy, Bramblestar gave a nod of approval. She was right to double the patrols on the ShadowClan border. We can’t trust those cats to stay inside their own markers, and we know how badly their territory has been affected!
“I’ll help by going on patrol if you like,” Frankie offered, padding up to stand beside Squirrelflight.
Bramblestar twitched his whiskers in surprise. The gray tabby tom was looking brighter and more determined this morning, very different from the shrinking, moaning creature who had come to the camp the night before. Good job, Jayfeather! Your herbs have really helped him.