Erin Hunter - Sunset

He padded over to them, Squirrelflight at his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Has any cat said anything to you?”

Brook shook her head. “We’re fine,” she murmured, but her eyes gave away her distress.

“We had a great patrol this morning,” Stormfur meowed.

“Sandstorm was friendly, and Dustpelt—well, Dustpelt is rude to every cat, so you tend not to notice. But when we got back we could see cats glaring at us, and hardly any cat wanted to talk to us. I think Dustpelt went to see the elders, and then Mousefur called this meeting.”

He broke off at the sound of Mousefur’s yowl from across the clearing. “Firestar! Firestar!”

A moment passed before Firestar appeared on the Highledge. A ray of sunlight turned his pelt to flame and traced his ears in gold. “What is it?” he asked.

“The Clan needs to talk with you,” Mousefur replied.

As Brambleclaw padded closer, beckoning with his tail for his friends to follow, Firestar leaped down the rocks and joined the rest of his Clan in the clearing. Brambleclaw thrust his way to the front so that he could hear everything and join in if he had to.

“Well, Mousefur?” Firestar faced the elder, his green gaze level. “What’s this all about? I thought it was the Clan leader’s duty to call meetings.”

It was Dustpelt who replied. He kept his anger under control and spoke with deep seriousness. “We’re not trying to undermine you, Firestar,” he began. “But we’re worried about the way ThunderClan is becoming… well, mixed . First it was Daisy and her kits. Now Stormfur and Brook. If it goes on, we won’t be ThunderClan anymore, just a collection of loners and kittypets.”

“Mousebrain!” Squirrelflight hissed into Brambleclaw’s ear. “Has he forgotten where Firestar came from?”

Brambleclaw didn’t reply, because Mousefur had started to speak.

“Dustpelt is right,” she declared. “You’re taking in too many strange cats. This is not the warrior code as I was taught it.” More sharply, she added, “You can punish me if you like, Firestar. I tell it as I see it.”

Firestar touched her shoulder with the tip of his tail. “I wouldn’t dream of punishing you, Mousefur. Every cat has a voice in what affects the Clan. But in this case I think you’re wrong.”

Mousefur’s neck fur bristled. “Why?”

“Because ThunderClan needs more cats. Until Daisy came, we had only two apprentices and no kits at all. Now we have plenty of kits, but we need strong warriors to defend our borders and protect our Clan. You know what Blackstar and Leopardstar said at the last Gathering. They want more territory. We’ve already had to fight ShadowClan when they tried to move the border.”

“Not to mention the foxes and badgers in the forest,” Sandstorm added.

Firestar flicked an ear to acknowledge her support.

“Stormfur and Brook would be helpful for training young warriors, too,” he went on. “Brook knows hunting techniques that we’ve never learned.”

“That might be useful if we had a mountain in our territory,” Dustpelt pointed out drily.

“We don’t know when it might be useful,” Firestar retorted. “And we’ll need mentors for the kits who are in the nursery now—more, if more kits are born.”

Murmurs of disagreement echoed around the hollow.

Rainwhisker’s voice rose above them. “But there are ThunderClan cats who’ve never had apprentices.”

“Stormfur is half ThunderClan,” Brambleclaw meowed, pushing forward to stand beside Firestar. “You could argue he has a right to be here.”

“True.” Firestar gave him a grateful glance. “He grew up in RiverClan, but every cat knows he had a ThunderClan father.”

“And that explains a lot.” The mutter came from just beside Brambleclaw. “Firestar would do anything to get Graystripe’s kin into the Clan.”

Brambleclaw’s head whipped around and he found himself staring into Longtail’s blind gaze. He would have liked to claw the tabby warrior’s fur off, but he contented himself with a faint hiss. Had Firestar heard the remark? he wondered. And is it true? Stormfur looked very much like his father, Graystripe, and he shared Graystripe’s courage and fierce loyalty to friends and Clan. It wouldn’t be surprising if Firestar felt drawn to Stormfur, when he was missing his old friend so much.

“Graystripe and Firestar have been friends for seasons,” Thornclaw meowed to Longtail. “Of course he feels he owes something to Graystripe’s kin.” His tone was quiet, and Brambleclaw couldn’t tell whether he agreed with Firestar’s decision or not.

“As for Brook,” Firestar continued, “what matters is not where a cat was born or who their kin may be.”

Argue with that , Brambleclaw thought. Our Clan leader was a kittypet, and he’s one of the greatest cats the forest has ever seen .

“Loyalty is what matters,” Firestar declared, “and that exists now , not in the past. Loyalty has to be proved every day, in every piece of fresh-kill brought back for the Clan, every claw mark on our enemies, every patrol, every training session.”

“But what if ThunderClan ever has to fight with RiverClan?” Dustpelt asked. “What would Stormfur do then?”

“Are you saying he would be a traitor?” Brambleclaw snarled. He glanced at his friend, but Stormfur was studying his paws, as if none of this applied to him.

“I’m saying he’d be torn between Clans,” Dustpelt retorted. “Would you wish that on any cat?”

Brambleclaw had to admit that the tabby warrior was right. Stormfur had felt that pain already, when he decided to abandon RiverClan and stay with Brook in the mountains.

He must be feeling it again now, as he was driven out of the Clan where he had grown up. But what other choice did he have?

“Stormfur’s our friend.” Squirrelflight’s voice broke into the argument. “He made the journey to the sun-drown-place.

Brook’s Tribe took us in when we traveled through the mountains. And they both helped us after the badger attack.

How many of you would even be alive without them? Is this how you want to repay her?”

“That was different!” Rainwhisker called out. “We never meant to stay with the Tribe for good.”

“Besides, that’s not the problem now,” Mousefur added.

“We have to think of the future of ThunderClan.”

“Enough!” Firestar lashed his tail. “I’ve listened to you, but I’m not going to change my mind. If Stormfur and Brook decide to leave, then we’ll give them what help we can. If they want to stay, then we will make them welcome. This meeting is over.” He turned and stalked back toward the rocks leading up to his den.

For a few heartbeats, shock kept the Clan silent. Firestar never snapped out orders like that; he never got angry with warriors who disagreed with him. Brambleclaw guessed that this meant more to him because of his kittypet background, and because offering help to Graystripe’s son was one last thing he could do for his absent friend.

As Firestar vanished into his den, the rest of the Clan broke up into groups, murmuring quietly to one another.

Some cats shot hostile glances at Stormfur and Brook; Brambleclaw could see that it wasn’t just Dustpelt and Mousefur who were unhappy with Firestar’s decision.

With Squirrelflight beside him, Brambleclaw padded over to his friends. Stormfur looked up as they approached, his blue eyes full of pain.

“We’ll go,” he meowed. “We can’t disrupt the Clan like this.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Brambleclaw argued. “I’m not going to let a few hostile Clanmates drive you out.” Not like RiverClan , he added silently. “I’ll go and talk to Firestar.