By now Bramblestar was close enough to Frankie to have called to him easily, but he kept silent, in the grip of curiosity, and ducked out of sight whenever Frankie paused to look around. I want to know exactly what this kittypet is up to. Soon Frankie reached the flooded Thunderpath that led away from the lake. The water came up no farther than his belly fur now, and he waded along, venturing into each Twoleg den but staying out of sight of the Twolegs.
What is he doing? Is he trying to steal food because hunting prey is too hard? Or looking for his Twolegs?
When Frankie emerged from the next Twoleg den, he paused, looking around with his head raised. “Benny! Benny!” he called.
Bramblestar stared at the kittypet in dismay. He’s looking for his brother! Why didn’t I think of that? He kept close as the gray tabby cat went on, searching under bushes, in abandoned Twoleg dens and monsters, underneath the bigger chunks of debris that littered the ground. His frantic, uncoordinated movements and his wide-stretched eyes gave away his growing despair.
At last Frankie jumped up onto a fence. “Benny, where are you?” he yowled.
Bramblestar couldn’t let him suffer on his own anymore. “Frankie!” he meowed, jumping up onto the fence beside him.
Frankie whirled to face him, so startled that he almost lost his balance. “I—I’m sorry…” he stammered when he had regained his footing.
Bramblestar silenced him with a wave of his tail. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We should have known you’d come looking for Benny. We all know how it feels to lose kin. It’s part of Clan life.”
Frankie lowered his head. “Then it’s a part of Clan life I can’t accept.”
“I didn’t say we accepted it, either,” Bramblestar mewed. “Come on, I’ll help you look.”
He leaped down from the fence and headed farther along the flooded Thunderpath, trying to remember which of the Twoleg nests Frankie had been trapped in when Jessy found him. “Show me your den,” he told Frankie. “Maybe we can work out which way Benny would have gone. That is where you saw him last, right?”
Frankie nodded, beckoning with his tail. “This way.”
He waded across the Thunderpath and up the slope on the far side. At the top, Bramblestar spotted the den set into the bank where he had first seen Jessy trying to get through the window to release Frankie. Following the kittypet, he bounded down the slope until they reached the fence that surrounded the den.
“Benny and I were here when the flood came,” Frankie explained, jumping over the fence and landing on a stretch of soggy grass. “The water came up from the lake like a huge wave. It knocked us off our paws and washed us that way.” He angled his ears toward the opposite fence. “I hit the fence and dug my claws in. I thought I was going to drown.” He shuddered and his eyes clouded.
“What happened next?” Bramblestar prompted him.
“I spotted that the basement window was open. I managed to get inside. I thought Benny was right behind me… but he must have been swept away.” His voice shook on the last few words.
Bramblestar touched Frankie’s shoulder with his nose, then padded across the garden to inspect the fence at the opposite side. Water had washed away all traces of scent, but after a few moments he found a narrow gap at the bottom with a tuft of black-and-white fur caught on a splinter.
“Hey, Frankie!” he called. “Benny is black and white, right? Could this be his?”
Frankie ran over and stared at the scrap of fur. “Yes, that’s Benny’s,” he meowed.
“Looks like he went this way, then.”
Bramblestar squeezed through the gap, with Frankie close behind. On the other side a broad swathe of destruction—broken fencing, stinking mud, scattered branches and other debris, and even a small monster tipped over onto its side—revealed the path of the huge wave. Ignoring their wet paws and drenched fur, the two cats followed the trail, checking each possible hiding place to see if Benny was there.
“Why are you helping me?” Frankie asked after a few moments.
“Because right now you are my Clanmate,” Bramblestar replied, drawing his tail-tip along Frankie’s flank. “I would do the same for any of my cats.”
The trail led to a narrow opening in the ground. At first Bramblestar thought it was another entrance to the tunnels, but then he realized it was something made by Twolegs. A neat square hole had been built into a raised bank of earth, supported by stones like the ones used to build Twoleg dens.
“That’s a drain,” Frankie meowed. “There’s usually a cover on it, but it must have been washed away.”
Bramblestar felt his fur start to prickle as he pictured what might have happened to a struggling cat, his fur heavy with floodwater, swept off his paws by a wall of water. I don’t like this one bit, but some cat has to check it out. Then he took a deep breath and crawled into the drain.
The air was damp and full of a thick, rotting stench. This was nothing like the tunnels, which seemed light and spacious compared with this dank hole. Bramblestar’s pelt brushed against the slimy walls on either side. His own body was blocking the light, and ahead of him was only choking darkness. Oh, StarClan, please don’t let me get stuck!
Bramblestar’s heart was pounding hard, and it took a massive effort for him to keep putting one paw in front of another. He was wondering how long he ought to go on when he bumped into something soft and furry. A tiny slice of light from a gap overhead revealed a heap of black-and-white fur, cold and solid and a long way from life. Every muscle in Bramblestar’s body stiffened as he realized that he had found Benny.
Gagging at the smell, Bramblestar nosed about until he located one of the dead cat’s legs and fastened his teeth in it. Then he tried to crawl backward, but Benny’s body was stuck against something, and wouldn’t move. Bramblestar reached out one forepaw and felt around for whatever was blocking Benny. His paw touched something hard and chilled, lodged slantwise in the drain and wedging Benny’s body underneath it.
Bramblestar gave it a shove. Maybe it’s the drain cover that Frankie said was missing.
At first nothing Bramblestar could do would shift the obstacle. His legs started to ache as he heaved at it, stretched to his limit to reach past Benny’s unmoving body. He was on the verge of giving up when it gave way with an echoing clang against the side of the drain and slipped to one side.
Bramblestar tried moving Benny again and this time the cat’s body slid easily toward him. Carefully he backed away, dragging Benny with him, until he felt a welcome draft of fresh air on his haunches, and emerged into the daylight. Frankie was waiting beside the drain entrance and helped him to pull Benny the last couple of tail-lengths out into the light.
Bramblestar coughed to clear the stench of the drain from his throat. “Is that your brother?” he meowed hoarsely, though he was in no doubt about the answer.
Frankie crouched beside the body, his head bowed. The dead tom looked small and pathetic out here, his black-and-white pelt plastered to his sides, covered in mud and slime.
“Oh, Benny…” Frankie touched his nose to his brother’s cold side. His voice began as a whisper, then rose to a grief-stricken wail. “What am I going to do? I can’t leave him here!”
“We’ll bury him,” Bramblestar told him. “We’ll give him a warrior’s farewell.”