Bramblestar watched the golden-brown tabby brace himself and examine the warriors’ den more closely. “We’ll need to find the longest bramble tendrils we can, to weave between the branches,” he told Cherryfall and Molewhisker. “Ivy is good, too. And then plenty of moss to plug the gaps. But first we have to clear out all the mud and mess.”
“How do we do that?” Mousewhisker asked, ducking under the branches of the fallen tree to peer at the clots of sludge that covered the floor of the den.
“Hmm…” Brackenfur narrowed his eyes. “There are plenty of dead leaves and ferns lying around. They should help to sop up the worst of the mud.”
“Brackenfur!” Daisy’s voice called from across the camp.
Bramblestar turned to see that the cream-furred cat had emerged from the nursery with a disgusted expression on her face. Cinderheart followed her a few paces behind.
“Brackenfur, the nursery is a disgrace!” Daisy announced. “Cinderheart’s not having her kits in there.”
“It’s not that bad—” Cinderheart began to protest.
“It’s worse than the tunnel!” Daisy hissed. Turning to Brackenfur, she added, “You have to do something right now, so it’s ready for when the kits arrive.”
“Okay, okay,” Brackenfur soothed her. “I’ve only got four paws, you know. But I’ll make sure the nursery’s ready; don’t worry. I’ll come over with you now, and see what needs to be done.”
Satisfied, Daisy turned to head back to the nursery, and was nearly knocked off her paws by all four apprentices, who were giving Frankie, Jessy, and Minty a tour of the camp.
“This is where we sleep,” Dewpaw announced, waving his tail at the wreck of the apprentices’ den. “You can go in if you like.”
Minty peered over the waterlogged ferns that edged the den and drew back with a twitch of her whiskers. “Er… very nice,” she murmured. “But I won’t go in just yet, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I know it looks awful now,” Amberpaw responded cheerfully. “But when it’s dried out, and the floor covered with moss and bracken, it’s so cozy and comfortable!”
“Except when you stick your tail in my ear,” Snowpaw muttered, giving her a prod.
Lilypaw slipped between the two younger apprentices. “That’s enough,” she mewed. “Come on, we have to show the kittypets the medicine den.”
“Yes!” Amberpaw yowled. “Come on, it’s this way!”
The apprentices streamed across the clearing, paws slipping in the thick mud that covered the floor. “Oh, yuck, I’ve got it all over my pelt!” Snowpaw squealed.
The kittypets followed, their expressions torn between amusement and confusion.
“That’s where the fresh-kill pile used to be!” Amberpaw explained, pointing with her tail.
“No, it’s not, mouse-brain!” Dewpaw swatted her over the head with one paw. “It was over there!”
The sight of them lightened Bramblestar’s mood. He watched them wriggling through a tangle of branches into the medicine cats’ den. Dewpaw got stuck, his hind legs waving in the air until Snowpaw gave him a push. Frankie and Jessy used their greater strength to shift some of the branches aside and improve the entrance.
Bramblestar realized that Squirrelflight had padded up silently and was standing at his side. “We’ll be home soon, won’t we?” she asked.
Bramblestar turned to her and nodded, seeing his own joy and relief reflected in her face. “I’m sure we will,” he responded, then added, “I wanted to talk to you about the badgers. It worries me that—”
He broke off as Brackenfur came bounding up, looking energized and purposeful. “Bramblestar,” he meowed, “can I start organizing building patrols right away?”
“Of course,” Bramblestar agreed. Glancing at Squirrelflight, he added, “I’ll tell you another time.”
That night Bramblestar headed to his nest before the last traces of daylight had faded from the sky. Most of his Clanmates were still gathered outside. Though they were tired, their fur muddy and full of twigs, they were still bubbling with excitement about rebuilding the camp in the hollow.
As he closed his eyes, Bramblestar could hear their cheerful voices drifting down into the tunnel.
“Berrynose, I’ll never forget seeing you with that bramble stuck in your fur!” Poppyfrost purred. “You looked like a hedgehog!”
“It patched a good section of the nursery roof,” Berrynose retorted good-humoredly.
“I thought Snowpaw had turned into a brown cat,” his mentor, Ivypool, meowed. “It looked like he was trying to clear all the mud out of the camp with his pelt.”
“And Molewhisker,” Rosepetal teased, “remember that you have to get off the branch before Brackenfur puts it in place. You nearly ended up as part of the warriors’ den.”
Bramblestar drifted into sleep, lulled by the chatter. He found himself standing in the hollow on firm, dry ground, not the thick layer of mud that covered it now. Moonlight washed over his fur as he gazed around at the restored camp. The dens were as good as new, strong and safe and well constructed, and a thick barrier of thorns stretched across the entrance. But there was no sign of any of his Clanmates.
From the corner of his eye Bramblestar spotted a flash of flame, and turned to see Firestar pushing his way into the camp. He bounded across to his former leader and dipped his head.
“Firestar!” he meowed. “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to be here,” Firestar responded. “Thank you for returning our Clan to its home.”
“It hasn’t happened yet,” Bramblestar reminded him.
“No, but it will.” Firestar’s green eyes glowed. “You have done well.”
“Really?” Bramblestar found that hard to believe. “Even by fighting ShadowClan’s battle for them?”
“You did what you thought was right,” Firestar told him.
No, Bramblestar thought. I did what I thought you would think was right.
“Those badgers could have caused trouble for ThunderClan,” Firestar went on.
“I don’t know that for sure,” Bramblestar meowed. “Rowanstar is angry with me.”
Firestar let out a long sigh. “So few cats understand how important it is for us to share dangers between all the Clans.”
Bramblestar was puzzled. How could that be reconciled with keeping each Clan safe and independent, the way the Clans had lived for season upon season? “But each Clan leader is responsible for their own Clan, right?” he checked. “It’s not up to us to make decisions for other Clans.”
Firestar fixed him with an intense green gaze. He sat down in the middle of the clearing and gestured with his tail for Bramblestar to sit beside him. “There’s something you need to know,” he began. “When I had been leader of ThunderClan for just a few moons, Bluestar came to me and told me about a terrible mistake that the four Clans had made a long time ago: that they allowed a fifth Clan to leave the forest.”
Bramblestar stared at him in astonishment. “A fifth Clan? But there isn’t a fifth Clan!”
“Once there was,” Firestar continued. “They were called SkyClan, and their territory in the old forest lay next to ThunderClan’s. Their skill was hunting aboveground in the trees, snatching birds from the air. They were strong and well respected. But the Twolegs began to build more dens, and they destroyed SkyClan’s territory to make room for them.”
Every hair on Bramblestar’s pelt prickled. “Just like the Twolegs did to us,” he breathed, “when the old forest was cut down and we had to make the Great Journey to find a new home by the lake.”
Firestar nodded. “Exactly like that. SkyClan’s leader, Cloudstar, asked the other Clan leaders to change the borders of their territories so that they would still have somewhere to live. The other leaders refused. SkyClan had no choice but to leave the forest and travel until they found somewhere else they could settle.”