Squirrelflight’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll go let Sandstorm and Graystripe know about the Gathering,” she meowed, rising to her paws.
“Squirrelflight…” Bramblestar called as she turned away.
His deputy swung around, an inquiring look in her eyes. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to say…” Bramblestar struggled to find the right words. “I wanted to thank you for everything. For supporting me over the badger battle. For welcoming the kittypets I brought back. For—for raising three wonderful cats that I’m so proud of.”
Squirrelflight stepped closer and her scent swept over him. “We did it together.”
“Maybe,” Bramblestar murmured. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with any other cat.”
Moving as one they stretched their necks forward; for a heartbeat their noses touched, and their muzzles brushed together. Then Squirrelflight stepped backward, looking ruffled. “I must tell the others about the Gathering.”
“Okay.” Bramblestar blinked at her affectionately and flicked her shoulder with his tail. “I’ll see you later.”
The moon was floating in a clear indigo sky when Bramblestar led his cats down toward the lake. In spite of the good omen, his belly was churning. He was dreading what Rowanstar might say about the battle with the badgers.
He’s sure to mention it, to warn the other Clans that ThunderClan is interfering once again.
Squirrelflight, who had been padding along beside Jayfeather, quickened her pace until she reached Bramblestar’s side. “I know what you’re thinking,” she meowed. “You’re worrying about Rowanstar. Ignore him,” she added with a sniff. “He couldn’t have fought that battle without us. He might learn to be grateful eventually, even if he is a ShadowClan cat.”
Excitement was bubbling up inside the ThunderClan cats as they headed for the lakeshore, and they darted back and forth with their tails bushed up when they saw the debris that the flood had left behind it. The pebbles had been completely covered by branches and all kinds of things that didn’t belong.
“Look at all the rubbish that’s been washed up!” Amberpaw exclaimed. “There’s Twoleg stuff in there, too!”
“Yes, Amberpaw, we can all see it,” Spiderleg snapped. “So leave it alone!”
“And dead fish,” Lilyheart added. “Yuck!”
But as they crossed WindClan territory and drew closer to the island, every cat grew quieter. Two moons had passed since the last Gathering, a long time in the life of the Clans, and so much had happened since their last visit to the island. Bramblestar guessed that all his warriors were a bit daunted at the thought of meeting the other Clans again.
“I wonder how many cats didn’t survive the storm and the flood?” Sandstorm murmured to Graystripe.
“I don’t know.” Graystripe shook his head sadly. “And what about RiverClan? They had to move so far away. Will they even be here tonight?”
To Bramblestar’s relief, the tree-bridge was clear of the water, though the waves lapped against it, sucking greedily in the darkness. I don’t want a repeat of walking on that sunken tree trunk! A pang shook him as he thought about Jessy. I hope she’s safe, wherever she is.
The ThunderClan cats bristled as they crossed the bridge with the water gurgling close beneath their paws. Stormpaw in particular looked terrified, though he kept moving across the slippery, mud-smeared trunk. Squirrelflight gave him a word of praise as he jumped down at the other end.
While Bramblestar was waiting for his turn to cross, Onestar and the WindClan cats came up behind him. Onestar greeted him with a frosty nod, but did not speak. Bramblestar felt his pelt tingling. He was glad when he could cross the tree-bridge and head through the bushes to the clearing in the center of the island. Relief flooded over him as he emerged from the bushes and saw Mistystar already there with her RiverClan cats near the foot of the Great Oak. Her gray-blue fur shimmered in the moonlight and her eyes lit up with welcome when she saw Bramblestar.
“How are you?” he called, trotting over to her. “Have you managed to come home?”
“There’s been a lot of damage to our camp,” Mistystar mewed. “But we’re working to rebuild it, and some of our warriors are already staying there overnight.” She paused, then added sadly, “We lost Pebblefoot and Grasspelt in the storm, but the rest of our cats are well.”
Bramblestar brushed his tail along her side. “I know how it feels to lose cats,” he mewed. “We lost an apprentice, Seedpaw.”
As the moon rose higher, the RiverClan and ThunderClan cats mingled together, exchanging news, but Onestar kept the WindClan cats aloof, clustered tightly together at one side of the clearing.
I wonder what his problem is, Bramblestar thought. This is supposed to be a time of truce!
Eventually Onestar raised his voice to be heard above the chatter. “It looks like ShadowClan isn’t coming. We should begin.”
Apprehension began to rise up inside Bramblestar. It’s true: ShadowClan should be here by now. Has something bad happened to them? Please, StarClan, don’t say that the badgers have come back!
Turning toward the Great Oak, Bramblestar realized that some of the younger cats had wandered off to check the flood damage on the far side of the island. He could hear them slipping and clambering over the rocks and fallen trees, and their voices rose excitedly.
“There’s a dead fox here. Does any cat want it?”
“Yuck, no! That’s crow-food!”
“Stop splashing me! Now I’ve got mud all over my pelt.”
Suddenly a loud screech sounded from the shore. Bramblestar recognized Cherryfall’s voice. Every hair on his pelt stood on end.
Then her voice came again in a triumphant yowl. “I’ve found the stick!”
Shocked exclamations rose from the other cats, and they pressed around Cherryfall as she stumbled into the clearing, dragging a long, smooth stick marked with neat scratches.
It’s the ThunderClan memorial stick! A shiver went through Bramblestar from ears to tail-tip. The stick that Seedpaw died for.
Jayfeather wriggled his way to the front of the throng. His blind eyes blazed with joy as he crouched at one end of the stick and dug his claws into it as if he thought it was going to escape. Standing beside him, Bramblestar ran his paw over the marks, and thought about his lost Clanmates. We owe them so much. Yet somehow he felt oddly comforted. Finding the stick again seemed to promise that their memory would never be lost.
Mistystar peered down at the stick, her blue eyes curious. “What is it?” she mewed. “Why is it important?”
Cherryfall explained to her the meaning of the marks on the stick. “And this way,” she finished, “we never forget the cats who died in the Great Battle.”
There was a pause; Bramblestar could feel the memories weighing on every cat in the clearing.
It was Onestar who broke the silence. “We remember our fallen warriors with a pile of stones at the top of the moor, one stone for each cat. One patrol goes there every day, to remember and be thankful.”
Mothwing, the RiverClan medicine cat, stepped forward with a glance at Mistystar. “Willowshine and I created a circle of ferns in which we can each remember our lost Clanmates,” she mewed. “The flood damaged them, of course, but they will grow again.”
A somber quiet fell across the clearing again, the cats of all three Clans united in grief.
“And we list the names of the dead at the first owl call each night.”
Bramblestar whirled around. Rowanstar! The ShadowClan leader stood at the far side of the clearing with his warriors around him.