Erin Hunter - Sunset

“Good, you’re back,” he meowed, sitting up and shaking scraps of moss from his pelt. “What did you—” He broke off when he realized that Brambleclaw was not alone. “Is that Stormfur and Brook?” he mewed in surprise.

“That’s right.” Brambleclaw stepped inside and dipped his head to his Clan leader. “I’m sorry, Firestar. Something happened.”

Firestar beckoned Stormfur and Brook into the den with a sweep of his tail. “Is there a problem in RiverClan?”

“You could put it that way,” Brambleclaw replied. Rapidly he told Firestar everything, from the moment when he spotted Brook chasing the squirrel, to when he invited the banished cats to come back with him to ThunderClan.

“You did the right thing,” Firestar meowed when he had finished. “You couldn’t have left Stormfur and Brook with nowhere to spend the night.” Turning to Stormfur, he added, “You’re both welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

Stormfur’s ears twitched. “We thought just for tonight—” he began.

“That’s up to you,” Firestar told him. “But you deserve some time to decide what you want to do. ThunderClan owes you that, at least, after all the help you gave us when the badgers attacked.”

“Thank you,” mewed Stormfur, and Brook added, “You don’t know how much this means to us.”

It was obvious to Brambleclaw that Firestar would be quite happy to welcome Stormfur and Brook into ThunderClan permanently. Much as he liked Stormfur and his Tribe mate, he wasn’t sure that was the right decision.

What about the rest of the Clan? And how would RiverClan react when they found out?

“Brambleclaw, take them to get something to eat, and then find them sleeping places,” Firestar directed. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Brambleclaw led the way out of the den and down into the clearing. He realized just how hungry he was; he hadn’t eaten since that morning, when he caught the mouse near the Twoleg pelts. There wasn’t much left on the fresh-kill pile—hunting patrols would need to go out first thing—but Brambleclaw chose a magpie for himself, while Stormfur and Brook shared a rabbit.

By the time they had finished eating, it was completely dark, and Silverpelt glittered above their heads as Brambleclaw led the way to the warriors’ den. The thorn tree’s new growth hadn’t covered all traces of the damage from the badgers, and the warriors were curled closely together in their mossy nests. Most of them were asleep or drowsily sharing tongues, and at first no cat took much notice of the new arrivals.

“Are you sure there’s room for us?” Stormfur asked as they slipped between the outer branches.

“Plenty,” Brambleclaw assured them.

He headed for some spare space closer to the rock wall, accidentally treading on Dustpelt’s tail as he padded past.

The brown tabby tom lifted his head. “What’s going on?” he mewed irritably.

“Sorry,” Brambleclaw muttered. “It’s only Stormfur and Brook. They’re staying for a while.”

Dustpelt grunted. “Does Firestar know about this?”

“Of course.” Brambleclaw bristled at the suggestion that he would bring strange cats into the den without asking the Clan leader.

Dustpelt just twitched his whiskers and curled up again, pointedly drawing his tail close to his side. Brambleclaw managed to escort his friends to an empty space without disturbing any other cat. To his relief Squirrelflight was nearby; she looked up as Brambleclaw approached. Her voice was friendly as she meowed, “Hi, Stormfur, Brook. What are you doing here?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Brambleclaw replied. “Let’s get Stormfur and Brook settled in first.”

“Sure.” Squirrelflight moved over to make more space.

Cloudtail was asleep next to her; she poked one paw hard into his side. “Move over, will you? You’re taking up more room than a badger.”

“Badger? Where?” Cloudtail looked up, blue eyes wide with alarm.

“Nowhere, mousebrain,” Squirrelflight snapped as several more cats stirred, heads popping up all over the den. “Go back to sleep.”

Brambleclaw helped Stormfur and Brook make nests for themselves in the moss, and finally settled down beside Squirrelflight. His jaws parted in a huge yawn; he could hardly stay awake to tell the story yet again.

“I wish I’d been there,” Squirrelflight mewed when he had finished. “I’d have shredded Hawkfrost’s ears.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Brambleclaw responded. “Not in the middle of the RiverClan camp.”

Squirrelflight flexed her claws. “He’d better stay out of my way, that’s all. Do you think they’ll stay?” she added, angling her ears toward Stormfur and Brook, who were already asleep, curled closely together among the moss and bracken.

“I hope so.” His jaws gaped in another yawn; his voice was blurred as he added, “ThunderClan needs good warriors.”

“RiverClan’s loss is our gain,” Squirrelflight agreed.

She rasped her tongue over Brambleclaw’s ears; the warm, rhythmic strokes were the last thing he felt as he slid into sleep.

Gray dawn light was filtering through the branches of the thorn tree when Brambleclaw awoke. Outside he could hear Sandstorm beginning to sort out the patrols. Hurriedly he sprang up and pushed his way out into the clearing.

“Why don’t you take Stormfur and Brook on the dawn patrol?” he suggested to the ginger she-cat. “It would be a good way for them to start learning the territory.”

Sandstorm twitched her ears, then nodded. “Okay. Good idea.”

“What do you mean, learn the territory?” Brambleclaw jumped as Dustpelt came up behind him. The tabby tom still sounded cranky after being disturbed the night before. “I thought they were only staying overnight.”

“Nothing’s been decided yet,” Brambleclaw replied, wishing that he’d been more tactful, or that Dustpelt hadn’t overheard.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Sandstorm meowed. “They’re here now, so they may as well make themselves useful.”

She poked her head through the branches of the den to call Stormfur and Brook. When they emerged, the four cats headed out together; Dustpelt didn’t say anything, though Brambleclaw saw the tip of his tail twitching as he vanished into the thorn tunnel.

Brambleclaw joined Squirrelflight, Cloudtail, and Brightheart on a hunting patrol. When they returned, loaded with fresh-kill, he noticed more cats than usual standing about in the clearing, as if they were waiting for something.

Uneasiness prickled his fur.

“What’s going on?” Squirrelflight asked, dropping three mice and a vole on the pile. “Hey, Brackenfur!” She waved her tail at the ginger warrior as he padded past. “What’s happening?”

“Mousefur just called a Clan meeting,” Brackenfur explained.

“ Mousefur called a meeting?” Brambleclaw echoed. “Can she do that?”

Brackenfur shrugged. “She’s done it.”

“Oh, good ,” Cloudtail meowed sarcastically. “More trouble.

Just what we need.”

“I’m going to see if Leafpool knows anything.” Brightheart bounded off toward the medicine cat’s den, and with a disgusted lash of his tail Cloudtail followed her.

Brambleclaw’s uneasiness increased. Across the clearing, he could see the wiry brown elder standing beneath the Highledge. Dustpelt was with her; both cats looked angry.

“See that?” Brambleclaw nudged Squirrelflight.

Squirrelflight nodded. “I don’t know what all this is about,” she mewed, “but I bet I can guess.”

“So can I.” Brambleclaw looked around until he spotted Stormfur and Brook, sitting close together by the thorn barrier. He wondered whether they were reluctant to join in a meeting of a Clan where they didn’t belong, or if they wanted to be sure they could escape if things turned ugly.