Bramblestar remembered that Onestar had mentioned at the Gathering that WindClan were hunting birds from the sun-drown-water. He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, thinking that the WindClan leader must be imagining things. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“The wind must be incredibly strong,” he commented, “to blow these birds all the way here.”
He gazed through the trees as though he could see all the way to the sun-drown-place. A shiver passed through him from ears to tail-tip as he remembered the surging mass of blue-green water.
Squirrelflight waited a few moments more to let all the Clan, especially the apprentices, get a good look at the white bird. Then she raised her voice to make herself heard throughout the clearing. “Come on, all of you! There’s enough prey here for every cat!”
That night Bramblestar found it hard to rest. Wind blustering around the Highledge disturbed him, and when he did manage to snatch a few moments of sleep he was assaulted by strange dreams of salty water and falling down holes on top of badgers.
A paw prodding him in the side woke him. The faint light of dawn was trickling into his den, and he just managed to make out the features of Jayfeather. The medicine cat was wide-eyed and agitated.
“Wha…?” Bramblestar muttered. “Did I call out in my sleep and wake you?”
Jayfeather shook his head. “No. I went out before dawn, because I was concerned about the new plants in the wind. And I found something… something awful. Come and see, Bramblestar!”
Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Bramblestar followed Jayfeather out of his den and down the tumbled rocks to the floor of the hollow. Jayfeather led the way into the forest at a run, sure-pawed as always in spite of his blindness, while Bramblestar blundered after him in the near darkness.
The two cats followed the disused Thunderpath until they came to the abandoned nest. By now there was enough light for Bramblestar to see more clearly. He stopped, his fur bushing up in dismay. The plants that Leafpool and Jayfeather had tended so carefully had been destroyed by a branch from a nearby ash tree. Wind had blown it across the patch of earth, churning up the ground and flattening the young herbs. Torn leaves had blown everywhere.
“Well, it’s bad, but it should be possible to repair it,” Bramblestar meowed. “Some of the roots must have survived. I’ll send you a patrol later today, to help clear up the mess and look for new plants in the forest.”
“You don’t understand,” Jayfeather told him, his voice somber. “This is an omen. Something terrible is going to happen. Darkness and destruction and tragedy are closing in on our Clan once more.”
Bramblestar felt an icy trickle of fear run down his spine. “Not the Dark Forest again?”
“No,” Jayfeather replied, and his voice sounded far away, and somehow older. “Something different from the Great Battle. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it coming on the wind.”
Chapter 7
Dawn had scarcely broken by the time Bramblestar and Jayfeather returned to the hollow. But their Clanmates were already awake and restless, pacing around the clearing with their fur blown the wrong way and their ears turned inside out. The trees clattered overhead as the wind gusted through them.
“I don’t like this,” Squirrelflight muttered as she joined Bramblestar in the center of the camp. “It reminds me too much of the time the tree fell, when Longtail died and Briarlight was injured.”
Bramblestar nodded, knowing that terrible day must be in the mind of every cat. A couple of fox-lengths away Dovewing was standing with her claws dug into the earth as if she were trying to take root. Her head was raised, and Bramblestar knew she was struggling to listen for falling trees.
Dovewing’s mother, Whitewing, emerged from the warriors’ den and padded up to her daughter. “This isn’t doing any good,” she murmured, giving Dovewing’s ear a gentle lick. “Come and share a vole with me.”
Dovewing hesitated, then allowed her mother to coax her over to the fresh-kill pile.
“I’m worried about Dovewing,” Bramblestar confided to Squirrelflight.
“I know,” Squirrelflight responded. “It was hard for all three cats to lose their powers.”
“But Dovewing seems to be suffering most of all,” Bramblestar mewed.
Lionblaze and Cinderheart pushed their way into the camp through the thorn barrier. Lionblaze looked ruffled, and was speaking over his shoulder to Cinderheart.
“It’s mouse-brained, trying to hunt in this!” he complained. “That branch from the beech tree whacked me right on the head!”
“Honestly, Lionblaze,” Cinderheart purred. “It was only a twig! You have to get used to being injured.”
Bramblestar sent Squirrelflight to round up the senior warriors. “We still have to send out patrols,” he began when they were gathered around him. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the blustering wind. “I don’t want any cat injured by falling trees—”
“Right,” Lionblaze muttered, rubbing the top of his head with one paw.
“But we need to restock the fresh-kill pile,” Bramblestar went on. “And I wouldn’t put it past ShadowClan or WindClan to take advantage of all this noise and chaos to cross the border. Especially WindClan, chasing those storm-blown white birds.”
Blossomfall nodded. “I’d bet a moon of dawn patrols that they’d have crossed our border after the bird we caught, if we hadn’t been there.”
“So who will lead a patrol?” Bramblestar asked.
“I will,” Squirrelflight offered immediately.
“And me,” Dustpelt and Ivypool added in chorus.
“I will, too,” Bumblestripe meowed. “Except… Dovewing, will you be okay if I leave you?”
“I’ll be fine,” Dovewing replied, though she was working her claws agitatedly into the ground.
Bramblestar could see that she was in too much of a state to be sent out on patrol. She was still trying to use her far-senses, even though she had lost them right after the battle. She feels like she’s deaf and blind, and she can’t bear it!
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Whitewing promised, leading her daughter back to the warriors’ den.
“Four patrols, then,” Bramblestar ordered. “Ivypool, take the WindClan border, and Dustpelt, take ShadowClan. Bumblestripe and Squirrelflight, your patrols can hunt. I’ll go with Bumblestripe.”
“Which cats should we take with us?” Dustpelt asked.
“Choose your own,” Bramblestar responded. “Have one cat in each patrol to watch out for danger—wind-blown branches, creaking trees, whatever. And if that cat says run, run!”
As Bumblestripe began to look around for other cats, his apprentice, Seedpaw, scampered up. “Can I come?” she chirped.
Bumblestripe shook his head. “It’s too dangerous out there for apprentices.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Bramblestar interrupted. “You and the others can help by clearing up any debris that gets blown into the camp. Tell your denmates I said so. You are responsible for keeping the camp tidy and safe, okay?”
Seedpaw lifted her head proudly. “We can do that, Bramblestar.” She dashed off toward the apprentices’ den.
The leaders of the patrols quickly found other cats to go with them and headed into the forest. Mousewhisker and Cherryfall had joined Bumblestripe’s patrol. Both of them seemed spooked by the wind, darting uneasy glances around at every paw step, and starting at each unexpected noise.
Bramblestar took on the duty of keeping watch for danger. Though the trees were thrashing in the wind, none of them looked ready to fall. But the noise of the gusts and creaking branches was so loud that there was little chance of picking up tiny prey sounds, while the strong gusts scattered scents everywhere.