Erin Hunter - Sunset

Part of Brambleclaw admired his half brother’s cunning and the force of his ambition. Tigerstar would be proud of him. But Brambleclaw knew he would never have the courage to make such a blatant bid for power himself. Could this really be part of the warrior code?

“Enough!” Leopardstar snapped. “Mistyfoot, Blackclaw, pull them apart.”

The RiverClan deputy leaped onto Hawkfrost’s shoulders and wrenched his head back. Blackclaw pushed Brook aside and raked his claws across Stormfur’s nose; the gray warrior reared back, losing his grip on Hawkfrost. Both cats scrambled to their paws and stood panting, glaring at each other.

Blood was oozing from Hawkfrost’s belly and his side.

Stormfur had no obvious wounds, except for blood spattering his muzzle from Blackclaw’s blow.

“Stormfur, you attacked your Clanmate!” Leopardstar sounded deeply shocked. “It’s obvious you have forgotten the warrior code, or else it doesn’t mean anything to you anymore.”

Stormfur opened his mouth to speak, but Leopardstar swept on. There was genuine regret in her voice as she meowed, “You will have to leave RiverClan. There is no place for you here. Your path lies with the Tribe now.”

Stormfur and Brook exchanged an appalled glance, and Brambleclaw wondered what was so terrible about having to return to Brook’s mountain home.

For a heartbeat he thought Stormfur would protest. Then the gray warrior lifted his head proudly. “Very well.” His voice was cold. “We’ll go. But it’s RiverClan’s loss, not ours. This isn’t the same Clan I once belonged to.”

He swept his tail around to draw Brook close to him.

Without looking back, the two cats padded out of the clearing and vanished into the undergrowth.

Hawkfrost watched them go, triumph glittering in his ice-blue eyes.

Anxious not to be discovered, Brambleclaw climbed down the tree, crossed the stream again, and slipped into the undergrowth, heading for the lake. The scene he had just witnessed had pushed his mission from Firestar to the back of his mind. All he wanted to do now was speak with Stormfur.

Halfway to the waterside he stopped to taste the air, picking up the mingled scents of Stormfur and Brook, so strong and fresh that he knew they were nearby. Scrambling up a low hill, he spotted them farther down the other side. They were heading for the lake, their heads hanging low and their tails twined together.

Brambleclaw didn’t dare call out to them this close to the RiverClan camp. Alert for any sounds of pursuit, he followed them, flitting from one clump of ferns or hazel bush to the next. He caught up to them on the shore not far from the tree-bridge that led to the Gathering island.

“Stormfur!” he hissed. “Wait!”

Brook jumped, while Stormfur whipped around to face Brambleclaw, his claws unsheathed and his neck fur bristling.

“Brambleclaw!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were that mangy, crow-food-eating—”

He broke off when Brook touched his shoulder with her tail. “Don’t,” she murmured. “That won’t help.”

Stormfur let out a sigh, allowing the fur on his neck and shoulders to lie flat again. “What are you doing in RiverClan territory?” he asked Brambleclaw.

“It doesn’t matter,” Brambleclaw replied. He retreated farther from the water’s edge, beckoning with his tail for Stormfur and Brook to follow until they reached the shelter of a twisted thornbush where they could talk without being seen. “I saw what happened,” he meowed. “And I’m really sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Hawkfrost has been out to cause trouble ever since I came back to RiverClan,” Stormfur snarled. “He’s afraid that if I stayed, Mistyfoot would choose me for deputy once she becomes leader.”

Brambleclaw wasn’t surprised; Hawkfrost had been deputy once before, while Mistyfoot was trapped by Twolegs, but at that time Stormfur had been on the journey to the sun-drown-place. Once he had settled into his Clan again, he would have been a formidable rival.

“Will you go back to the mountains?” he asked.

“That’s not possible right now,” Stormfur replied. He sounded awkward, not meeting Brambleclaw’s eyes.

Brambleclaw didn’t press him. He suspected something was wrong and wanted to know more, but he knew Stormfur wouldn’t tell him until he was ready. “Why don’t you come back to ThunderClan with me?” he suggested. “Firestar will be glad to give you food and shelter for tonight at least.”

Stormfur’s whiskers twitched. “We can’t do that,” he meowed. “It would only cause trouble for you with RiverClan.”

“Firestar doesn’t ask other Clans to approve what he does,” Brambleclaw pointed out. If Stormfur and Brook couldn’t go back to the Tribe, their only other choice might be to become loners, and live outside the protection of any Clan. It was a hard and difficult life, especially for cats who were used to living among others. “Come on,” he urged. “It’s too late to go far before nightfall anyway, especially when you don’t know the territory well.”

Stormfur turned to Brook. “What do you think?”

“You decide,” she murmured, pressing her muzzle into Stormfur’s shoulder. “You know I’ll come with you wherever you go.”

Stormfur closed his eyes for a moment as if he were bracing himself. “All right,” he meowed to Brambleclaw, opening his eyes again. “We’ll go back with you. Come on, Brook.”

Brambleclaw led the way down to the lakeshore and headed back toward ThunderClan territory, taking the route through WindClan this time. As they padded along, heavy-footed with shock and exhaustion, he thought about what he had seen and overheard in the RiverClan camp.

“You know,” he mewed to Stormfur as they were passing the horseplace, “Hawkfrost had a point. You shouldn’t have attacked him.”

“I know, I know.” Stormfur lashed his tail. “But he goaded me into it. He meant for me to attack him, and you know that as well as I do.”

Brambleclaw didn’t know how to respond. In his heart he knew Stormfur was right, but he also knew why Hawkfrost had done it.

Before he could speak, Stormfur halted and faced him.

“Brambleclaw, be careful,” he warned quietly. “The path you walk can only lead to trouble.”

Brambleclaw stared at him, a hot flush of guilt soaking through his pelt. There was no way Stormfur could know about Brambleclaw’s meetings with Hawkfrost in dreams, or their training sessions with Tigerstar. Did he realize Brambleclaw was closer to his half brother than some cats might think?

Stormfur twitched his ears as if he were flicking away a fly.

Without saying anything else he turned away and plodded on around the lake.

Brambleclaw stared after him. He felt bad for his friend and Brook, cruelly driven out of their Clan. Yet he couldn’t believe Hawkfrost was entirely wrong. If this was the best way for him to achieve power, didn’t that make his actions right, in some way at least?

The sun had set by the time Brambleclaw led Stormfur and Brook through the thorn tunnel into the ThunderClan camp.

Shadows lay thickly in the stone hollow, and only one or two cats still lingered by the fresh-kill pile. Rainwhisker, on guard by the entrance, jumped in surprise at the appearance of Stormfur and Brook, but seeing that Brambleclaw was with them he just gave them a nod of greeting and said nothing.

“Let’s go and see Firestar,” Brambleclaw suggested, bounding across the clearing to the rockfall.

When he reached his leader’s den, with Stormfur and Brook scrambling up behind him, he found Firestar already curled in his mossy nest at the back of the cave. He raised his head as Brambleclaw paused in the opening.