Bristlefrost’s pelt prickled. Had it been a dumb idea to fix the elders’ den? “We want to make sure they’re warm,” she told him quickly. “Until fresh honeysuckle grows in.”
Bramblestar hardly looked at her, his gaze flashing toward the warriors’ den. The brambles were torn on one side, where the leaf-bare snows had dragged them down. “It’s the warriors who keep the Clan healthy and strong,” he meowed. “We should take care of them first. Elders are tough enough to survive a draft or two.”
Graystripe shifted beside Bristlefrost, a frown clouding his gaze. “Cloudtail’s bones feel the cold,” he grunted.
Bristlefrost shifted uneasily. Graystripe was right to remind the ThunderClan leader of that, but Bramblestar wouldn’t suggest repairing the warriors’ den instead without a good reason.
Bramblestar answered the old gray tom without looking at him. “Extra bedding will keep Cloudtail warm.”
Bristlefrost felt relieved. See? Bramblestar was thinking of every cat.
Squirrelflight swished her tail. “We can take care of the dens once we’ve restocked the fresh-kill pile,” she mewed briskly. “Let me finish organizing the hunting patrols and then I’ll see about gathering extra bedding.”
“Squirrelflight.” Alderheart’s mew made the ThunderClan deputy turn. The dark ginger medicine cat was hurrying from his den. “Do you need me this morning? I want to go out and check to see if there are signs of new herbs growing yet.”
“I told you . . .” Jayfeather followed Alderheart out. “It’ll be a moon before we see fresh herbs. We might as well make the most of the ones we’ve got. If we mix the dried leaves with some sap, it will preserve them for a while longer.”
“I can collect some sap while I’m out,” Alderheart suggested.
Squirrelflight didn’t seem to be listening. Her gaze had drifted past them, growing sad as she stared at the bramble-covered entrance of the medicine cats’ den. Bristlefrost’s heart pricked with sympathy. That was where Leafpool had died. The whole Clan was still grieving her loss. Bristlefrost moved closer to Thriftear. She couldn’t imagine losing a littermate.
Bramblestar padded to Squirrelflight’s side and glared at the medicine cats. “I don’t know why you’re bothering the deputy with stuff that doesn’t concern her,” he told them sharply. “Decide for yourself whether you want sap or herbs.”
As Jayfeather jerked his nose toward the ThunderClan leader, his face creasing in a frown, Bristlefrost blinked. “Why is he so angry with Jayfeather and Alderheart?” she whispered to Thriftear.
“Perhaps he blames them for letting him die,” Thriftear whispered back.
Bristlefrost shivered. “I hope he never looks at me like that.”
“Why would he?” Thriftear glanced at her.
Bristlefrost shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m going to try to be the best warrior in the Clan from now on.” She was relieved to see Bramblestar’s gaze soften as he turned back to Squirrelflight.
Stemleaf caught her eye. The white-and-orange tom looked puzzled. “Is it me, or is Bramblestar being weird?” he murmured under his breath.
“He’s been weird since he lost a life,” Spotfur agreed quietly.
“Losing a life must be hard,” Bristlefrost told them. “We don’t know what it’s like.”
“He’ll feel better soon,” Thriftear mewed.
“I hope so,” Graystripe huffed. “Firestar never acted like this after he’d lost a life.” With an irritable flick of his tail, the gray tom ducked into his den.
Flipclaw was crossing the clearing, Dewnose and Snaptooth at his heels. They stopped in front of Squirrelflight and Bramblestar. “Should we hunt in the beech grove?” Flipclaw offered. “I think I smelled a fresh mouse nest there yesterday.”
Bramblestar frowned at the young tom. “Then why didn’t you dig it up yesterday?”
Flipclaw blinked at him. “I’d already caught a squirrel,” he mewed. “I thought it could wait.”
Squirrelflight ran her tail along Bramblestar’s spine. “It’s best not to hunt too hard this early into newleaf,” she mewed lightly. “Remember? We want some prey alive to make more prey so there’s plenty by greenleaf.”
Bramblestar’s fur ruffled. “Of course I remember,” he snapped. He hesitated as though realizing he’d been too sharp and touched his nose to Squirrelflight’s ear. “But you’re right to remind our younger warriors.” He nodded to Dewnose. “You’re training him well, Dewtail.”
“Dewnose.” Dewnose blinked at him. “I’m called Dewnose.”
“Of course you are.” Bramblestar grunted crossly. “I knew that.”
Squirrelflight leaned against the ThunderClan leader, her eyes welling with pity. “You don’t have to remember everything. Are you tired again? Perhaps you should rest.”
As she steered him away, talking softly in his ear, Stemleaf leaned closer to Spotfur. “He used to remember everything,” he grumbled.
Bristlefrost glared at the white-and-orange tom. Why was he being so hard on Bramblestar? She eyed her leader sympathetically, relieved he was too far away to hear Stemleaf’s criticism. “Have you forgotten how sick he was?”
“He’s healthy now,” Stemleaf retorted.
“But he died!” Bristlefrost’s pelt flushed with indignation. “It’s bound to change things.”
“If the Clan leaders changed personality every time they lost a life, the Clans would be a mess,” Stemleaf pressed.
Spotfur nodded. “Even if Bramblestar’s feeling weird, he doesn’t have to stop Squirrelflight from organizing patrols. The fresh-kill pile is usually full by this time of day.”
“Now you’re blaming both of them!” Bristlefrost fluffed out her pelt.
“You must admit, things have been strange since Bramblestar started his new life,” Thriftear breathed.
“So what? They’re great warriors!” Bristlefrost jerked away from her sister. “We’re lucky to have a leader like Bramblestar, and Squirrelflight is an awesome deputy. Why are you criticizing them? They’re your Clanmates! You should be helping them.”
Anger hardened her belly. She was grateful Bramblestar had come back to them. How would ThunderClan have survived without him? Squirrelflight and Bramblestar needed the support of their Clan. Puffing out her chest, she left her denmates and crossed the clearing. She was going to help Bramblestar. It was what a honorable warrior would do.
Bramblestar and Squirrelflight stood beneath the Highledge. Bramblestar had clearly decided that he didn’t need any more rest and stood watching as Squirrelflight gave orders to Flipclaw.
“Take Eaglewing with you,” she told the young warrior. “Start at the beech grove, and then try the area beside the abandoned Twoleg den.”
“What about the ancient oak?” Bramblestar chipped in. “There’s always good hunting there.”
“That’s a good idea.” Squirrelflight blinked at her mate gratefully. “But the hunting hasn’t been so good there for the past few seasons. It might be best to wait till greenleaf to give prey a chance to return.”
As Bristlefrost reached them, her ears grew hot. She’d only been a warrior for a moon. Was she allowed to approach her leader and offer help? She hesitated and looked nervously at Squirrelflight. “Excuse me.”
The ThunderClan deputy dragged her gaze distractedly from Flipclaw. “Can it wait?” she asked. “I’ve got more patrols to organize.”
“I—I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help,” Bristlefrost’s mouth felt dry as she met Squirrelflight’s gaze.
“I suppose you can join your brother’s patrol,” Squirrelflight mewed thoughtfully. Her gaze was flitting around the camp, as though wondering who else to send hunting.
“Sure.” Bristlefrost lifted her tail eagerly.