“It wasn’t easy,” Bramblestar agreed. “But we were worried about you. Is RiverClan safe?”
“RiverClan is fine,” Mistystar replied with a slight edge to her voice. “We knew the lake was rising, so when it reached our new dens we left and kept going until the water stopped chasing us.” Her voice shook a little, and it was clear that she and all her cats had been more terrified than she wanted ThunderClan to know.
“And Petalfur’s kits are okay?” Bramblestar pressed.
“Of course. Three warriors carried them. How are things in ThunderClan?” Mistystar asked.
“Not good,” Bramblestar told her. “The hollow flooded, but all of us survived, and we’ve found a safe place to stay for now.”
Perhaps it was Bramblestar’s admission that ThunderClan had lost their home too, but Mistystar seemed to soften. She padded forward to stand beside Bramblestar, and together the two leaders looked out across the flooded landscape.
“I wonder if things will ever return to how they were,” Miststar murmured. “The Great Battle, and now this . . . Doesn’t StarClan have the power to protect us anymore?”
“We can protect ourselves,” Bramblestar insisted. “The water won’t stay like this forever.”
“But what if it does?”
Bramblestar turned to face Mistystar. “Then we will all make new homes. We did it before; we can do it again.”
He saw warmth in her blue eyes. “Thank you for coming,” she purred. “It helps to know that we’re not suffering alone.”
Bramblestar touched his muzzle to the tip of Mistystar’s ear. “None of the Clans are alone,” he murmured. “Good luck, and may StarClan light your path.”
The RiverClan cats said good-bye with more friendliness than before, and Bramblestar led his patrol back the way they had come. There’s no way of going through the marshes to reach WindClan territory. It’s just floodwater as far as I can see.
They waded through the flooded field and with an effort, jumped back onto the fence. The water seemed even colder and murkier than before, whipped into splashy little waves by the breeze. None of the cats spoke; they just trudged along the submerged fence in concentrated silence.
Reaching the flooded Thunderpath, Bramblestar was bracing himself to swim for the drowned monster when a shriek split the air.
“Help! Oh, please help me!”
CHAPTER 11
Bramblestar froze. Behind him, his Clanmates bristled.
“What’s that?” Thornclaw spat.
“It’s coming from over there,” Dovewing mewed, pointing with her tail farther up the flooded Thunderpath. At Bramblestar’s startled look she hissed under her breath, “I can hear the same as you! I’m not deaf!”
“It’s a she-cat, and she sounds terrified.” Graystripe was staring in the direction of the sound. “We have to go help her.”
“I don’t know. . . .” Bramblestar stalled, anxiety rising inside him like a flood. “With all this water, it could be dangerous.” He knew that he had to put his Clanmates’ safety above rescuing a strange cat.
“We should at least see if we can spot the cat,” Dovewing suggested. Her fur was fluffed up with anxiety and her blue eyes were huge.
The Twoleg fence where they were standing led right up to the wall of the den. Ivy covered the den wall.
“If we climb that,” Graystripe meowed, angling his ears toward the densely growing green leaves, “we should get a better view.”
Thornclaw heaved a sigh. “You mean, go right up to a Twoleg den that might be full of Twolegs, and risk falling into the flood, all for a cat we haven’t even set eyes on?”
Graystripe looked at his Clanmate with a hint of scorn. “You could show a little compassion,” he growled.
The fur on Thornclaw’s neck began to rise, and Bramblestar meowed quickly, “We’ll climb the ivy and see if we can find the cat, without putting ourselves in unnecessary danger. Come on.”
He waded along the top of the fence until he could claw his way up the ivy. His belly churned as Thornclaw’s words echoed in his mind. The golden-brown warrior was right. We don’t know for sure that all the Twolegs have gone. But Twolegs were noisy creatures, and now their surroundings were so quiet that Bramblestar could hear every lap and gurgle of the water, every wail from the she-cat in trouble.
“Help! Is anyone there?”
Saving his breath for the climb, Bramblestar reached the upper level of the Twoleg den and scrambled along the ivy until he reached the corner. The cat’s cries were even louder here. Bramblestar looked down and almost lost his grip in astonishment. Just around a bend in the flooded Thunderpath, a small white cat with black patches on her ears and belly was crouching in a round, hollow object made of wood. The object bobbed in the water, stuck in the branches of a submerged bush.
“Hi! Up here!” Bramblestar called.
The cat spun around, making her little sanctuary rock so wildly that it almost tipped over. “You found me!” she gasped, tipping back her head to look up. “Please help! Did you get left behind, too?”
Bramblestar opened his jaws to reply, but before he could speak, the she-cat continued in a rush. “When the lake flooded, my housefolk took Brandy and Polly, but they couldn’t find me.” She glanced down for a moment, and her voice grew quieter. “I was asleep under their bed. I didn’t hear them calling until it was too late.” With a shake, she lifted her head again. “Then the water started coming into the house so fast! I climbed into this tub to keep dry. I didn’t realize it would float away!”
“Calm down,” Bramblestar meowed when the she-cat paused for breath. “We’ll figure out a way to get to you.”
Now that he had found the cat, there was no way he could leave her floating helplessly in the flood. But she was a long way out and surrounded by deep water. Can we swim that far? Bramblestar wondered. And if we do reach her, how do we get her to safety?
“I’ve got an idea,” Thornclaw mewed, with a light touch of his tail on his leader’s shoulder.
“Okay, spit it out,” Bramblestar told him, tensing as he felt the ivy stem where he was clinging start to tear away from the wall of the den. “We can’t stay here.”
“See those little ledges on the den walls?” Thornclaw nodded toward them. “We might be able to use them to cross from den to den.”
“Those are windowsills,” Graystripe meowed unexpectedly.
Every cat stared at him. “Huh?” Thornclaw grunted.
“Don’t forget that I once lived in a Twoleg den,” Graystripe told them. “After I was captured when the Twolegs were cutting down the old forest. Twolegs sleep in nests on this upper level,” he went on. “These gaps in the wall are called windows. The Twolegs look through them, but they don’t go in and out of them.”
“So what are they for?” Dovewing asked.
“Well, they let light into the den.”
“And I expect the Twolegs use them to watch for predators,” Thornclaw added. “That’s a pretty neat idea, for Twolegs.”
Bramblestar cleared his throat. “If you’ve all finished discussing Twoleg dens,” he mewed, “we have a cat to rescue. Thornclaw,” he continued, “I think your idea could work, but it’s going to be tricky. Maybe you and I should try it alone.”
“No way!” Dovewing exclaimed.
Graystripe lashed his tail. “Forget it, Bramblestar. We’re coming with you.”
Bramblestar was warmed by the loyalty of his Clanmates. “Okay,” he purred. “But for StarClan’s sake, be careful.”
Taking the lead, he clambered through the ivy until he reached the first windowsill. He pulled himself onto it, gritting his teeth; even though the windowsill was wider than a tree branch, it was angled slightly downward, so he was afraid he was going to slip. He dug his claws hard into the wood and crept forward with his heart thudding.
At the end of the windowsill he had to leap across a gap of bare red stone to reach the next one. It’s just like chasing a squirrel in the trees, he told h
imself, bunching his muscles and launching himself into the air. He landed awkwardly, one hind paw waving in the air, and took a moment to steady himself.
A glance over his shoulder told himself that the others were following safely. Confidence began to seep back into his paws, only to drain away again when he saw that the gap between this windowsill and the next was much wider.
That’s because the next one belongs to the next den, Bramblestar realized. But how else can we reach it? It looks like it’s too far to leap, but we have to try.
He pushed off with all his strength, reaching out with his forepaws. His belly hit the windowsill, and he had to scrabble frantically with his hind paws to pull himself up. And we have to keep on doing this, he thought with a tremor of fear in his belly. Surely one of us will fall? But his Clanmates followed him without any mishaps, even managing to speed up as they got used to the hazards.
When Bramblestar reached the fourth windowsill he was able to look down and get a clearer view of the cat in the tub. Her blue eyes stared up at him, filled with terror.
“Please hurry!” she begged. “There’s water coming into the tub. I’m getting wetter!”
“We’re coming!” Bramblestar called as he readied himself for the next jump.
“Bramblestar, stop!” Graystripe yowled.
Bramblestar froze. “What’s the matter?”
“Look at the next windowsill. Can’t you see that the wood is rotten? It won’t bear our weight.”
Following the gray warrior’s gaze, Bramblestar saw that the end of the windowsill was jagged and loose as if it was crumbling away. “Just like a rotten branch . . .” he murmured. “So what do we do now?” he asked, not expecting an answer.
“We’ll have to go into the den and find a way out on the lower level,” Graystripe meowed.
Thornclaw flattened his ears. “I’m not setting paw in there!” he exclaimed. “Have you got bees in your brain?”
Dovewing’s whiskers flickered. “Isn’t there another way?”
Graystripe shook his head. “We don’t have a choice if we want to help the she-cat,” he insisted, keeping his voice low.
The she-cat was already beginning to panic. “What’s happening?” she demanded. “Why have you stopped?”
Bramblestar glanced down at her. “It’s okay!” he called.
But he wasn’t sure that was true. The window where he and his Clanmates were crouching was blocked by hard, transparent stuff, and he couldn’t see any way of getting past it. He pressed it with one paw, then butted his head against it, but it held fast.
“Are you trying to get in?” the she-cat asked. “It’s easy! My friend Parsnip lives there, and the windows open if you press them at the top.”
Bramblestar glanced at Graystripe. “Worth a try, I suppose.”
Stretching his forepaws as high as they would go, he thrust at the slippery, transparent window. The bottom swung out toward him, catching him in the belly, and he let out a startled yowl as he felt his hind paws slipping. Dovewing sank her teeth into his scruff, steadying him until he could recover his balance.
“Thanks!” he gasped. Peering through the gap that had opened up at the bottom of the window, he added, “Graystripe, you’d better lead the way.”
The gray warrior crawled through the gap, flattening his body as if he were creeping up on prey. There was another windowsill inside the nest; Graystripe hesitated there for a moment, then jumped down. Dovewing followed him, but Thornclaw took a pace back, his lips curling as if he had just smelled crow-food.
“I don’t like it,” he muttered.
“I’m not asking you to like it,” Bramblestar mewed.
Thornclaw puffed out his breath. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
While his Clanmate was scrambling through the gap, Bramblestar looked back and called out to the she-cat in the tub. “We’ll be with you in a few heartbeats!”
Inside the den, the scent of Twolegs wreathed around Bramblestar, and every hair on his pelt stood on end. All his instincts were telling him to run, but there was nowhere to run to. Solid white walls loomed all around, trapping him. Then he realized that all the scents were stale, and he managed to relax a little.
What a lot of stuff the Twolegs have in their dens! he thought as he glanced around. The floor was covered in a layer of dense green tufts that Bramblestar thought was grass, until he rubbed his paws against it and realized it was some kind of Twoleg pelt. More soft pelts lay scattered on top of it, and on top of a large, flat object that stood against one wall. There were big structures made out of wood, with hard, straight lines, not the soft contours of real trees.
“This is a bedroom,” Graystripe announced. Meeting blank stares from the other three cats, he added, “The nest where the Twolegs sleep.”
“Fascinating,” Thornclaw muttered.
“Yes. Graystripe, can we just keep going?” Bramblestar meowed.
Graystripe nodded and led the way toward a gap in the den wall. As Bramblestar padded after him he realized how soft the pelts were against his paws. This would be a good place for cats to sleep too, he thought, provided there weren’t any Twolegs.
Following Graystripe out of the sleeping den, Bramblestar and his Clanmates slipped silently alongside the wall until they reached an uneven slope leading downward.
“This reminds me of the abandoned Twoleg den,” Bramblestar remarked.
“They call it stairs,” Graystripe informed him.
“You never told us any of this before,” Dovewing mewed as they began to descend the slope. “It’s really interesting.”
Graystripe snorted. “We’re Clan cats, not kittypets,” he reminded her. “How they live has nothing to do with us.”
Water was lapping at the bottom of the slope, and Bramblestar waved his tail for Graystripe to step back and let him go ahead. There were more gaps in the den walls, and at first he didn’t know which one would lead to the outside. Then he sensed a flow of cooler air coming from one of the gaps, and heard the shriek of the she-cat from that direction. “Where have you gone?”
Cautiously Bramblestar stepped down into the water, wincing at the cold, wet touch on his fur. At first it was shallow enough to wade, but as he stepped through the gap the ground suddenly gave way beneath his paws, and he found himself floundering, thrashing his paws until he managed to climb onto something solid.
“There’s another step just there, I think,” Graystripe mewed helpfully.
“Whatever.” Bramblestar gave his pelt a disgusted shake. “Jump from the top to this . . . thing I’m standing on,” he instructed.
“It’s a chair,” Graystripe told him. “And that big, flat thing over there is a table. If you jump up there, Bramblestar, there’ll be room for the next cat.”
“Good idea,” Bramblestar responded. “Thank StarClan you know a bit about these Twoleg places, Graystripe.”
“I’ll still be glad to get out of here,” the gray warrior grumbled.
Soon all four cats were standing on the table. More chairs were scattered around, as if the flood had carried them from their proper places. One of them was wedged by the opening that led outside, holding back the piece of wood that the Twolegs had used to block the gap.
Two jumps brought Bramblestar to this chair, and at last he was able to see outside. A fence ran around the garden and joined onto the den not far from where Bramblestar was standing. A few fox-lengths away a monster was crouching, with water lapping halfway up its shiny blue sides. Between Bramblestar and the monster was the tub, floating very low in the water now. The black-and-white she-cat was peering anxiously over the side.
“Please hurry!” she wailed. “The tub is sinking!”
Bramblestar turned to his Clanmates. “We’ll have to leap from here to the fence,” he told them. “It’s an awkward angle, but we should be able to manage it.”
“How are we going to get the cat out of there?” Dovewing asked as she landed neatly on the chair beside him.
Bramblestar wasn’t sure. Maybe the tub will bump up against the fence, and she can climb out of it. “Just go,” he meowed.
Dovewing obeyed, reaching the fence with Graystripe and Thornclaw just behind her. But when Bramblestar tried to follow he misjudged the jump because he was trying to avoid his Clanmates, who were crowded together along the fence-top. His claws raked the wood of the fence, but he couldn’t get a grip on it. A heartbeat later he plunged into icy water. His yowl of alarm was cut off as the flood closed over his head.
Bramblestar flailed his legs desperately, feeling the cold sink deep into his pelt. His chest ached with the need to breathe. It seemed like a whole season before his head broke the surface. Gasping for air, he glanced around, but at first he could see nothing but the tossing water.
“Over here!” the kittypet yowled. “Hurry!”
Bramblestar splashed in a circle until he caught sight of the tub, only a few tail-lengths away from him. It had floated away from the fence. Great StarClan! I hope I can move it!
Struggling to keep his head above the surface, Bramblestar thrashed his way over to the tub and started to push. It was sluggish, hard to move, because by now most of it was under the water. The black-and-white she-cat propped her forepaws on the rim, her terrified gaze fixed on Bramblestar. He didn’t have enough breath or strength to reassure her.
The tub was closer to the monster than the fence, so Bramblestar headed that way. At last he felt the tub bump gently against the shiny blue side. “Climb out!” he choked.
The she-cat floundered through the water that by now was filling the tub, and clawed her way onto the top of the monster. Bramblestar followed her, managed to give her a boost upward, then hauled himself to safety and flopped down on the monster’s back. Hearing a gurgle from below, he looked down to see the tub vanish under the surface of the water. The she-cat was watching it too.
“I could have been in that!” she gasped. “You saved me!”
“Not exactly,” Bramblestar grunted, waving his tail to indicate the silver water all around them.
“But you did!” the she-cat insisted. “Thank you! My name’s Minty. What’s yours?”