Bramblestar waited for her to make the kill, then stepped forward as Lilypaw straightened up with her catch in her mouth. “Good job!” he meowed. “Your hunting skills are coming along well.”
Lilypaw jumped at the sound of his voice and turned toward him. Her eyes glowed with pleasure. “Thanks, Bramblestar,” she mumbled around the mouse.
She may be small, but she’s brave and she works hard, Bramblestar thought as he followed Lilypaw to join the rest of the hunting party. A pang of sorrow stabbed through him, sharp as a thorn, when he remembered how much she had lost. I must remember to take Brackenfur aside and tell him how well his daughter is doing.
That night in his nest, Bramblestar couldn’t sleep. There was a hard knot in his belly; he blamed the tough blackbird he had eaten earlier. However often he changed his position, he felt as if a sharp piece of twig was poking into him.
“For StarClan’s sake,” Squirrelflight hissed, coming to sit beside him, “stop fidgeting about. You’re keeping every cat awake! Except for Frankie,” she added. “He came back late, so exhausted he just flopped into his nest.”
“Sorry,” Bramblestar muttered. “I’m worried about Frankie,” he went on.
He was slightly surprised when Squirrelflight agreed. “So am I. Why don’t we follow him the next time he wanders off by himself?”
Bramblestar’s whiskers quivered. “Do you think he’s plotting with another Clan?”
Squirrelflight let out a snort of disbelief. “No. He’s a kittypet. But he’s our responsibility at the moment, so we need to find out where he’s going.” She poked her paw into his nest and yanked out a single long thorn. “There, you should stop wriggling now. Sleep well.”
Chapter 25
“Seeing that the water’s going down,” Bramblestar meowed, “we need to think about repairing the dens in the hollow.”
A couple of days had passed without any more rain. Now a pale sun was shining and the clouds were thinning out, drifting across the sky like white mist. Bramblestar felt his energy rise at the thought of returning to their home.
Dustpelt and Brackenfur were discussing the practicalities with him just outside the entrance to the tunnel, along with Cherryfall and Molewhisker. The life of the Clan went on busily around them. The apprentices were dragging bedding outside to let it dry off in the sun, with Daisy supervising them.
“Stop it, Amberpaw!” Bramblestar heard her scold the young she-cat. “You won’t make that moss fit to sleep on by throwing it at Dewpaw.”
Farther across the clearing, Millie was helping Briarlight with her exercises. The warmer weather was helping her, Bramblestar noticed; she wasn’t coughing nearly as much. In fact, most of the sick cats are getting better.
Dustpelt twitched his whiskers thoughtfully before replying to Bramblestar. “It’ll be a long job,” he murmured. “Before we can repair anything, we’ll have to get rid of all the mess.”
“But we’ll be home; that’s the most important thing,” Brackenfur added.
“I suggest we split up the tasks,” Dustpelt went on. Bramblestar saw that his eyes were brighter as he considered the problem. He looked more like the cat he had been before he lost Ferncloud. “Some cats to clear up, some to fetch brambles and moss from the forest, some to start the actual rebuilding…”
“And still keep up with hunting and border patrols,” Bramblestar pointed out.
“Yeah, we need to keep an eye on ShadowClan,” Cherryfall put in, working her claws eagerly in the ground.
“Let’s hope that ShadowClan has enough to do repairing their own camp, to have time to come bothering us,” Bramblestar responded. “And that goes for the other Clans, too.”
“Then we should start by organizing work patrols,” Brackenfur suggested. “As soon as the water level sinks low enough to let us back in.”
“That would be a task for Squirrelflight,” Bramblestar mewed. He glanced around for his deputy, who had been sorting out hunting patrols at the far side of the clearing. Now the patrols were leaving, and Squirrelflight was already heading toward him.
“Bramblestar,” she began as soon as she was within earshot, “remember what we were talking about the other night? Well, Frankie is at it again. I was about to put him in a patrol when I saw him sneaking off.”
Bramblestar rose to his paws with a frustrated lash of his tail. “I hoped he’d given that up. He was in a hunting patrol with me yesterday, and he made a couple of really good catches. Which way did he go?” he asked Squirrelflight.
His deputy angled her ears in the direction of the ridge. “Up there.”
“Sorry,” Bramblestar meowed to Dustpelt and the others. “I have to deal with this. Discuss the hollow among yourselves, and let me know what you decide when I get back.”
Padding across the clearing, Bramblestar easily picked out Frankie’s trail from the mingled scents of the other cats. To his surprise, it led straight up to the ridge, then across the border and into the woods above ShadowClan territory. Before long, he spotted Frankie, trotting along swiftly and purposefully.
Bramblestar quickened his pace to catch up. He was almost close enough to call out: Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Then he saw Frankie freeze and hurl himself into the shelter of a clump of bracken. Quickly Bramblestar leaped up into the nearest tree, hiding himself among the tiny, unfurling leaves, and peered downward. A heartbeat later he spotted a ShadowClan patrol padding past, focused and alert as if they were looking for prey. Rowanstar himself was in the lead.
Thank StarClan they didn’t spot us! Bramblestar thought as the patrol vanished and their scent died away.
Frankie emerged from the bracken and set off again, swift as a fox, into the dark pine forest in the direction of the Twolegplace. Is he going to visit Victor and those other kittypets? Bramblestar wondered, deciding not to call out to Frankie until he knew what was going on.
But Frankie veered away from the Twolegplace and headed toward the border between ShadowClan and RiverClan. Suddenly Bramblestar realized that he was going back to his own nest. Does he want to leave us? Bramblestar felt a stab of disappointment that Frankie would just go without even saying good-bye. But if this is where he disappeared to before, he has already been and come back twice. What is he playing at?
Bramblestar tracked Frankie in silence as his paw steps turned toward the lake. The stream leading down into it was much shallower now, not the turbulent current they had risked their lives to swim such a short time before. Frankie waded across it without hesitating, even though in the middle of the stream the water came up to his head and shoulders. Bramblestar waited for him to get a little farther ahead before following.
Even though the water had gone down, Bramblestar could see the evidence of the terrible flood everywhere he looked. Vast swathes of mud covered the ground, clinging to his paws as he picked his way through it. The ground was littered with broken Twoleg things and branches swept along in the surge. Sometimes there was no way around it, so that Bramblestar and Frankie had to clamber over the heaps of flotsam, getting even wetter and muddier. As they drew closer to the Twoleg dens, Bramblestar saw that some of the Twolegs had returned. They waded in and out of the flooded dens, pushing water out with long branches that were bushy at the end, and yowling at one another in angry voices. Bramblestar’s fur began to bristle as he drew closer to them, but soon he realized that they were too busy to notice a couple of cats.