Erin Hunter - Sunset

“Do you mean Stormfur?” Hawkfrost’s ears pricked.

“Stormfur is back?”

Brambleclaw nodded. “He and Brook turned up just as we drove out the last of the badgers. They stayed to help us recover, but I expect they’ll leave for RiverClan soon.”

Hawkfrost’s eyes narrowed, and Brambleclaw wondered what he was thinking. He wished that Tigerstar hadn’t revealed the news about Stormfur’s return. He had a sudden impulse to warn Stormfur, yet he couldn’t figure out why he felt there might be a threat from Hawkfrost. Besides, he couldn’t tell any cat in ThunderClan about these nocturnal meetings.

A powerful blow to his side jerked him back to the shadowy clearing. His paws skidded out from under him and he crashed to the ground. Tigerstar’s massive paws held him down and his yellow eyes glared at him furiously.

“ Always keep watch!” he spat. “An attack can come at any time. How can you protect your Clan if you forget that?”

Still winded, Brambleclaw scrabbled at Tigerstar’s belly with his hind paws. He heaved himself upward, dislodging his father’s weight. Tigerstar’s paw flashed out, aiming for his ear, but Brambleclaw dodged the blow. Scrambling to his feet, he hurled himself at his father, charging into his muscular shoulder. Tigerstar staggered but kept his balance, darting to one side and attacking Brambleclaw again with teeth bared and claws unsheathed. Brambleclaw ducked under the flashing claws and tried to fasten his teeth in Tigerstar’s neck.

Tigerstar tore free of him and took a pace back.

Brambleclaw gasped for breath. This fight was fiercer than a normal training session, where claws would be sheathed. In the skirmish the wound on his shoulder had torn open again.

He could feel blood trickling into his fur, and pain made him hiss through his teeth when he tried to put his paw to the ground.

“You should move faster!” Tigerstar snarled, leaping for him again.

This time Hawkfrost sprang between them, letting out a screech as he scored his claws down Tigerstar’s flank.

Tigerstar leaped at him, and the two tomcats rolled over in a furious tangle of legs and thrashing tails. Hawkfrost fought as fiercely as if every badger in the world were attacking him, giving Brambleclaw a chance to recover. When the two cats broke apart at last, even Tigerstar was breathless.

“Enough,” he panted. “We will meet again tomorrow night.” His amber stare fixed on Brambleclaw. “Before then, speak to those horseplace kits and gain their trust. If you can make one of them want to be your apprentice, your path to becoming deputy will be clearer.”

In spite of his wounded shoulder, Brambleclaw bounded back through the forest as though his paws were carried on the wind. Tigerstar had given him nothing but good advice. If he befriended Berrykit and took responsibility for the duties of a Clan deputy, he would still be serving ThunderClan well.

His meetings with Tigerstar would make him a better warrior, more loyal to his Clan, with the skills he needed to make him an effective leader.

He woke in the warriors’ den to feel a throbbing ache running from his right ear to his belly. Twisting his neck, he saw that the fur on his shoulder was dark and matted with blood.

A cold claw seemed to trail down his spine. He had been dreaming when he fought with Tigerstar. Why should the wound open up again? And why did he feel so tired, as if he hadn’t slept at all?

As Brambleclaw rasped his tongue over the injury, Squirrelflight, who was curled up beside him, raised her head.

His movement and the sharp scent of fresh blood had woken her.

“What have you done?” she gasped, her eyes wide.

“I… I’m not sure.” Brambleclaw knew he couldn’t tell Squirrelflight, of all cats, about his visits to Tigerstar.

Especially not now that she trusted him again. “I must have caught it on a branch while I was asleep.”

“Careless furball.” Squirrelflight gave him a sympathetic flick with her tail. “You’d better see Leafpool and get some cobwebs.”

Brambleclaw glanced around. Dawn light was filtering through the branches of the thorn tree, and the other cats were beginning to stir. “Is anyone leading the dawn patrol?”

“I am.” Dustpelt spoke through an enormous yawn. He rose to his paws and arched his back in a long stretch.

“Cloudtail and Thornclaw are coming with me.” He prodded the sleeping Cloudtail with one paw. “Come on, wake up.

What do you think you are, a dormouse?”

“It’s just as well you’re not going, if that shoulder’s giving you trouble,” Squirrelflight meowed.

“It’ll be fine,” Brambleclaw replied tensely. “Why don’t we go hunting instead?”

Squirrelflight gave him a long look from narrowed green eyes. “Okay,” she agreed. “But after you’ve seen Leafpool.”

Relieved to escape any more questions, Brambleclaw slid out between the branches and headed for Leafpool’s den. His head spun with exhaustion and his paws felt as if they were made of stone. Instead of hunting, what he longed to do was curl up in his nest and go back to sleep.

When he reached her den, the young medicine cat was checking on Birchpaw, who was still curled up behind the bramble screen. As soon as Brambleclaw appeared, she fetched him a pawful of cobwebs to stop his wound from bleeding any more.

“Any cat would think you’d been fighting again,” she remarked as she patted them into place.

For one frantic heartbeat Brambleclaw wondered if Leafpool could possibly know about the meetings in the dark forest.

“I don’t know how I did it,” he mewed evasively. “Is it okay if I go hunting?”

“Well…” Leafpool hesitated, then nodded. “Just don’t overdo it, and come back if the bleeding starts again.”

Promising that he would, Brambleclaw went back into the clearing. Squirrelflight was waiting for him near the warriors’ den, along with Stormfur and Brook. Brambleclaw’s spirits rose at the thought of hunting with his old friend. If Stormfur was going to leave ThunderClan soon there might not be many more chances to spend time together.

“Hi,” Stormfur meowed. “Squirrelflight says you must have been fighting badgers in your sleep.”

Brambleclaw winced. Squirrelflight’s theory came a bit too close to the truth.

Squirrelflight took the lead as they headed out of the camp. By now the thorn barrier was almost as thick as ever, with a tunnel leading through it into the forest. As Squirrelflight approached, Ashfur appeared in the entrance with a bundle of moss in his jaws.

“Hi there,” Squirrelflight mewed.

Ashfur swept a freezing glance over her, ignored Brambleclaw entirely, and stalked away, carrying his moss to the elders.

“I tried to explain…” Squirrelflight insisted helplessly. “I keep on trying, but he just won’t listen. I don’t see why we can’t be friends.”

Brambleclaw doubted that Ashfur would ever be comfortable just being friends with Squirrelflight, but he didn’t say so out loud. Gently he touched his nose to her muzzle. “You did your best. Come on, let’s hunt.”

When they left the camp the forest was damp and misty, full of the sharp scent of new leaves. As the sun rose, the mist thinned to trailing wisps that clung to the lowest branches; above them, the trees cast long shadows, and dew glittered on every cobweb and blade of grass. Some of Brambleclaw’s exhaustion vanished as he paused for a moment to let the warmth soak into his fur.

Movement flickered in the corner of his eye. He spun around to see a mouse scuttling across an open space; before it reached the shelter of the bushes Brook sprang after it and killed it with a sharp blow of her paw.