“We’ve found it! This is where the Clans are meant to be.”
Chapter 18
Brambleclaw kept his ears pricked for the sound of prey as he slipped through the undergrowth. He could hear Thornclaw and Dustpelt padding close behind him, their bellies close to the ground as they ducked under the bracken. Brambleclaw tried to tell himself he didn’t mind that Squirrelflight was not with them. Feeding the Clan and exploring the new territory was more important right now. If Squirrelflight was determined to fight with him, that was her problem. She had never worried about his connection with Tawnypelt, so why was she getting so worked up about Hawkfrost?
The patrol emerged from the bracken and padded along the edge of a broad Twoleg path. This was the farthest a patrol had been from the camp. Until now, they had been busy organizing the dens and barriers in the hollow, and they had found enough prey close by to feed every cat. Now they were beginning to range farther, cautiously exploring the more distant parts of the territory.
Something about the path made Brambleclaw uneasy. “I’m not sure I like this,” he muttered. “It’s too much like a Thunderpath.” His belly clenched as he remembered how the Twoleg monsters had torn through the forest, leaving a swath of devastation wider than this, but just as straight.
Thornclaw carefully tasted the air. “I don’t think it can be,” he meowed after a moment. “There’s no scent of Twolegs or monsters.”
Brambleclaw drew in a long breath and realized that the golden-brown warrior was right. There was no sign of Twolegs, not even stale scent. But there was still something very familiar about the path. “It might be an old Thunderpath,” he guessed. “Maybe the Twolegs let the grass grow over it.”
“Why would they do that?” Thornclaw wondered.
“Because they’re mousebrained,” Dustpelt retorted sourly.
“All Twolegs are mousebrained.” He spotted a vole beneath the nearest bush and began to creep toward it.
Watching him, Brambleclaw went on puzzling about the path. If Twolegs had cut rock from the stone hollow, perhaps they had needed a Thunderpath to take it away. He twitched his ears. It wasn’t important, as long as there were no Twolegs here now.
When Dustpelt had killed his vole and scraped earth over it, they went on, still keeping to the side of the path.
Brambleclaw was reluctant to set paw on something made by Twolegs, even so long ago, and he guessed his Clanmates felt the same.
Suddenly Dustpelt let out a hiss. Brambleclaw froze, his fur bristling as he followed the brown warrior’s gaze through the trees. He could just make out the stone walls of a Twoleg nest.
“There’s still no scent,” Thornclaw mewed. He looked at Brambleclaw. “What do you want to do?”
Part of Brambleclaw wanted to turn and run back to the hollow as fast as he could. He thought of the nest they had discovered in ShadowClan’s territory when they made the first patrol around the lake, and the two ferocious kittypets they had disturbed. But the Clan needed to know everything about their new territory. “Let’s take a look,” he decided.
Another, narrower path led to the nest from the path they were traveling along, but Brambleclaw took a more direct course through the trees, creeping up on the nest with his belly flattened to the ground.
It was very different from the nests in Twolegplace. There was a door made from flat wooden strips, but they were broken and rotten and hung crookedly from one side. The big square holes in the walls were empty, so wind and rain could blow straight in. The nest looked dark and silent, full of shadows and confusing scents.
A shiver went through Brambleclaw, raising every hair on his pelt. He wanted to leave without going one pawstep nearer, but he knew what Squirrelflight would say: You never went inside! Are you a mouse or what?
“Wait here,” he ordered his companions, and stalked up to the doorway.
Thornclaw and Dustpelt did not obey his order: No reason why they should, thought Brambleclaw, reminding himself that he wasn’t deputy yet. They were hard on his paws as he climbed the steps and slipped inside the Twoleg nest.
The weak shaft of light slanting through the door revealed rough gray walls and floors made from splintered strips of wood, with weeds pushing up through the gaps. Straight ahead, a slope of jutting blocks led up to another level.
There was no Twoleg scent, just a powerful aroma of prey.
The cracks in the stone walls and the spaces under the floor-boards would make good hiding places for mice and voles.
Brambleclaw heard Thornclaw’s paws thump on the wood, and glanced back to see his Clanmate with a mouse dangling from his jaws.
“Well done!” he whispered.
Dustpelt looked impressed. “This could be a useful place,” he meowed. “Provided the Twolegs don’t come back.”
Brambleclaw agreed—the prey was certainly plentiful and easy to catch—but he didn’t like the feeling the place gave him. It was as desolate and hollow as an empty den, and he wondered why the Twolegs had abandoned it.
“Do you want to go up there?” Thornclaw twitched his ears toward the steeply sloping blocks.
“Not if StarClan themselves came and begged me,” Dustpelt mewed. “That doesn’t look safe at all.”
“I’ll take a quick look,” Brambleclaw meowed, Squirrelflight’s imagined scorn ringing in his ears.
He ran swiftly up the blocks before he could spend too long worrying what he might find at the top. As he burst onto the next level, which was made of strips of wood like the floor below, a loud squawking and the rattle of wings set his heart thudding. A moment later he realized it was only a pigeon, disturbed by his sudden appearance. Scattering gray and white feathers, it fluttered up through the space where the roof had broken away.
Brambleclaw padded cautiously forward, peering around until he was sure the place was empty. When he scrambled down to ground level again he found that Dustpelt had caught another mouse, and Thornclaw was crouched in front of a crack in the wall with his ears pricked.
“We don’t have time to hunt now,” Brambleclaw warned them. He was feeling trapped inside the Twoleg walls, and his paws itched to be out in the open again. “We can find prey outside, and we need to report this to Firestar. Let’s go.”
Reluctantly Thornclaw followed him out again, and the three cats headed back along the abandoned Thunderpath.
Dustpelt and Thornclaw went straight to the heap of fresh-kill, but Brambleclaw padded over to his Clan leader, who was sitting with Sandstorm and Squirrelflight. “Firestar, I think you should know what we found today,” he meowed, and described the empty Twoleg nest.
“And there was no scent of Twolegs at all?” Firestar asked when he’d finished.
Brambleclaw shook his head. “It seems to be a good place for prey, and I suppose it might be useful in the future.”
“Maybe shelter,” Sandstorm suggested, “if the weather gets very bad. Or if there was another fire…” She shivered, and Brambleclaw knew how she felt. He could just remember the flames that had swept through the old ThunderClan camp, devouring everything in their way. He wasn’t sure that even the stone walls of the Twoleg nest would protect them from that sort of forest fire.
“Perhaps. Well done, all of you,” Firestar meowed.
“I’m going out again,” Brambleclaw told him. “We need more fresh-kill.” He felt as if a lump of tough starling had lodged in his throat, but he managed to add, “Squirrelflight, do you want to come with me?”