The Raging Storm

CHAPTER 5

Twigbranch brushed past an oak trunk, enjoying the tug of the rough bark against her fur. It soothed her.

“Stop dawdling!” Ahead of her, Finleap padded cheerfully between the trees. “We came out here to hunt, not to scratch.”

“I’m coming.” Twigbranch hurried after him.

She had taken Flypaw out at dawn to practice finding prey, but the apprentice had been so sleepy she’d hardly listened to a word Twigbranch had said. She’d yawned when she was meant to be sniffing for rabbit tracks and kept falling behind when Twigbranch was trying to hurry her to the next mouse nest. When Twigbranch had scolded her, Flypaw had moved even more slowly, as though Twigbranch’s criticism had injured her rather than helped her.

Eventually she’d sent Flypaw back to camp to clean out the elders’ den. Early morning training seemed wasted on her apprentice. Instead she’d asked Finleap if he wanted to hunt. They were heading into the forest now. Gentle sunlight dappled the trees. Finleap padded beside her as they climbed the rise where beech grew between the oaks. Twigbranch glanced at him. “Did you find it hard to get up early to train when you were an apprentice?” she asked.

“No.” He blinked at her. “I couldn’t wait to get started.”

“Me neither.” Twigbranch flicked her tail happily as she remembered. “Some mornings I was already waiting outside Ivypool’s den when she woke up. I wanted to be a warrior more than anything else.”

Finleap slowed. “Are you still having trouble with Flypaw?”

“Her heart’s just not in it,” Twigbranch worried. “Or perhaps it is. Perhaps I expect too much from her.”

“She’s just begun training,” Finleap pointed out. “Give her time to find her paws.”

“I’m trying to give her time, but we just don’t seem to connect.” Anxiety pricked in Twigbranch’s belly. “When I correct her or criticize her technique, she takes it personally, like I’m criticizing her.” Her pelt twitched with frustration. “I feel like I can’t tell her anything in case I upset her. I have to tiptoe around her like I’m stalking prey. Sometimes I wonder if I’m training her to be a warrior or she’s training me to be a mouse.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he meowed. “Relationships take time to build.”

“Do you get along with Snappaw?”

Finleap purred. “He’s fun. He can be slow, but he listens and he works hard. He’s going to make a good warrior.”

Twigbranch fought back a twinge of jealousy. How had Finleap gotten the easy apprentice? Perhaps I’m just a bad mentor. Should she try harder to adapt to her apprentice, or simply be tougher and expect more of her?

Finleap whisked his tail. “I smell squirrel.”

Twigbranch froze as he stopped and scanned the forest. She saw a gray tail bobbing over the forest floor a tree-length away. “There!” She dropped into a hunting crouch. Finleap dropped beside her. Together they watched the squirrel stop at the roots of a beech. It rummaged through the leaves caught between the roots and began picking out beechnuts.

Finleap padded forward, moving noiselessly over the forest floor. Twigbranch crept after him, keeping her belly a whisker above the ground so it didn’t brush the leaves. Silently they advanced on the squirrel. It was intent on the beechnuts, nimbly cracking the shells and pulling out their seeds before stuffing them into its mouth. As Twigbranch neared, she glanced at Finleap, looking for a signal to pounce. He caught her eye and nodded her to one side. They split up and, ducking lower, moved to flank the squirrel.

Twigbranch paused and waited for Finleap’s signal. His eyes shone with excitement. He looked at her and flicked his tail. Go! They leaped at the same moment. But the squirrel was fast. Quick as a bird, it shot upward, gripping the bark of the beech and skittering toward the branches. Twigbranch stared after it, but Finleap didn’t hesitate. He leaped up the trunk, hooking in his claws, and hauled himself after the squirrel. “Come on!” he called down.

Twigbranch followed, pushing clumsily upward with her hind legs. Bark crumbled beneath her claws and showered past her. It felt strange to hunt above the ground, despite her SkyClan training. Finleap was swarming after the squirrel as though he’d been born in a tree. The squirrel hopped onto a branch and raced along it. Finleap followed, balancing easily as he chased the squirrel to the branch’s end.

Twigbranch reached the branch, panting, and watched as the squirrel leaped from its end to the next tree. Her heart seemed to stop as Finleap leaped after it. He landed in the next tree, wobbling dangerously as he found his paws. His stumpy tail flicked one way, then the other, as he fought to stay upright. Twigbranch glanced at the forest floor below. Don’t fall!

In a moment Finleap had regained his balance and was pelting after the squirrel. He caught it as it tried to leap up to the next branch, rearing and hooking it with his claws before it could escape.

Twigbranch felt a rush of pride. Even with a short tail, Finleap could keep his balance and hunt at the same time. Would he pass his SkyClan hunting skills on to their ThunderClan kits? She stiffened. Kits! What was she thinking? They were both too young to have a family yet.

She shook out her fur and slithered to the ground. Hurrying to Finleap’s tree, she waited for him as he scrambled tail first down the trunk, the dead squirrel dangling from his jaws.

He dropped it on the ground. “It feels good to hunt in the trees again,” he mewed happily.

Twigbranch brushed her muzzle against his cheek. “Great catch!”

He purred. “Let’s take it back to camp.” He grabbed the squirrel and headed away.

Twigbranch followed, pleased both by the good catch and at seeing Finleap so happy.

When they reached camp, Finleap headed to the fresh-kill pile to drop his catch. Twigbranch began to follow, but raised voices in the medicine den made her stop. An angry yowl sounded from the entrance.

“Have you got bees in your brain?” Jayfeather hissed.

“But I’ve seen it work! Nothing else is helping.” Alderheart sounded desperate.

Alarmed, Twigbranch hurried to the medicine den and nosed her way through the brambles that trailed at the entrance. No one seemed to notice her. Jayfeather was cringing from a small pile of dark berries, which lay on a dock leaf at Alderheart’s paws. Leafpool’s pelt was bristling as she pressed protectively against the nest where Puddleshine lay. The ShadowClan cat’s eyes were glazed and dull.

“How could you bring deathberries into camp?” Leafpool stared at them. “What if a kit finds one?”

“I’ll hide them where no kit can find them,” Alderheart promised.

“What if you get juice on your paws and walk it through camp?” Jayfeather argued. “A kit might pick up some poison without anyone realizing.”

“That’s not going to happen!” Alderheart’s hackles lifted. “I know the dangers. I’m not going to risk any cat’s life.”

“Except Puddleshine’s!” Jayfeather lashed his tail.

Twigbranch’s eyes widened. Was Alderheart really planning to give Puddleshine deathberries?

Leafpool flicked her ears. “How did you get such a crazy idea?”

“I told you! I saw the rabbit,” Alderheart mewed urgently. “One day it was sick with the same smell as Puddleshine, and the next it was recovering. I saw it eating the berries.”

“Are you sure it was eating deathberries?” Leafpool asked.

“They were berries from the same bush where I gathered these,” Alderheart told her.

Jayfeather’s blind blue eyes were hard with rage. “You’re not feeding those to Puddleshine.” Twigbranch stiffened. She knew Jayfeather could be bad-tempered, but she’d never seen him this angry.

Alderheart met Jayfeather’s gaze unflinchingly. “I have to try it. If I don’t, he will die.”

Twigbranch looked at the nest where Puddleshine lay. Could he hear this? Did he know he was dying? The ShadowClan medicine cat shifted. She saw his gaze focus for a moment, and he groaned as he tried to lift his head.

“Let him try it,” Puddleshine grunted.

Jayfeather turned his head toward the sick tom. “It will kill you.”

“I’m already dying.” Pain showed in Puddleshine’s gaze. “If Alderheart is wrong about the rabbit, then at least I’ll die quickly. If he’s right, then I have a chance.” He fell limp with a groan.

Alderheart stared urgently at Jayfeather. “It’s the only choice we have.”

Jayfeather curled his lip. “It’s your choice, then. Do it if you must.” With a growl he stalked past Twigbranch and pushed his way through the trailing brambles out of the den.

Leafpool glanced anxiously at Alderheart. “Do what you think is best,” she mewed. “But be careful. If this harms Puddleshine, you’ll never forgive yourself.” Frowning anxiously, she followed Jayfeather out.

Twigbranch stared at Alderheart. “Are you really going to do it?”

“Of course I am.” He crouched and began carefully tearing open the flesh of a berry.

“What if he dies?” Twigbranch breathed, her heart pounding in her throat.

“Then I’ll know at least I tried everything.” Squinting in the gloom of the den, he picked out the seeds and dropped them onto the dock leaf. “I’ll feel worse if he dies without me having tried.” He didn’t look up but, intent on his work, slit open another berry.

Twigbranch slid out through the brambles and paused at the edge of the clearing. Jayfeather was disappearing into the elders’ den. Leafpool was crouched beside the fresh-kill pile, gazing anxiously ahead. Alderheart trusts his instincts.

Energy pulsed through Twigbranch’s paws. I must do the same with Flypaw. She wanted to make the young she-cat understand how important training was. These moons mustn’t be wasted. Flypaw could learn so much. She was young and quick, and the techniques she learned now would form the bedrock on which all her future skills would rest. It was no time to ease up on her. Twigbranch knew she had to be tough. What if I’m wrong? It was a risk worth taking. She knew suddenly that, like Alderheart, she must follow her instinct.

She hurried to the elders’ den and stuck her head in. Flypaw was supposed to be cleaning out the bedding, but all she saw was Jayfeather, sniffing Millie’s ear while Graystripe watched anxiously. The medicine cat pulled away. “Can you hear birdsong in the morning?” he asked.

“Yes,” Millie answered.

“Can you hear Graystripe snoring?” Jayfeather asked.

“Everyone can hear Graystripe snoring,” Millie purred.

Graystripe grunted, a sparkle in his eyes.

“In that case, your hearing is okay,” Jayfeather pronounced. “Maybe not as sharp as it once was. That might be a blessing. You say you can’t hear the kits mewling in the nursery anymore. Enjoy the peace.” He turned his head toward Twigbranch as though he could see her. “Are you going to follow me into every den today?”

Her ears grew hot. “I’m looking for Flypaw.”

“She’s not here,” Jayfeather mewed curtly. “Try someplace else.”

“Did she clean out your bedding this morning?” Twigbranch asked Graystripe.

“She took half of it away,” Graystripe plucked sadly at his nest’s thin pile of bracken with a paw. “We haven’t seen her since.”

“She’s probably collecting fresh moss,” Millie suggested.

Twigbranch’s pelt pricked irritably. “She’s probably watching thistledown floating between the trees and imagining she’s leader of SleepyClan.” She saw Graystripe and Millie exchange looks as she ducked out of the den and scanned the camp. Flypaw couldn’t even clean out bedding without getting distracted. With a grunt, Twigbranch decided that she’d better go and find her apprentice. She headed for the camp entrance.

“Twigbranch!” Finleap called to her from beside the warriors’ den, where Rosepetal and Blossomfall were sharing a mouse.

Twigbranch glanced at him. “Not now,” she called. “I’m busy.”

Finleap hurried toward her. Frustration clawed Twigbranch’s belly. She wanted to find Flypaw. They’d wasted enough training time already. Reluctantly she waited for Finleap to reach her. “What?” she snapped.

He blinked at her, hurt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hold you up, but it’s important.”

“Sorry.” Twigbranch tried to push back impatience, but it wormed beneath her pelt. “What is it?”

“Reedclaw is sick. Rosepetal just told me. She and Blossomfall met Plumwillow at the border while they were patrolling. It’s only greencough, but when she was a kit, greencough always made it hard for her to breathe. I’m worried about her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The thorn barrier shivered, and Twigbranch glanced at it, hoping that Flypaw had returned. Her heart sank as she saw Molewhisker pad into camp. “Have you seen Flypaw in the forest?” she asked him.

“No,” Molewhisker told her as he passed. “Is she okay? Do you want help finding her?”

“No, thanks. I’ll find her myself.” Twigbranch shifted her paws. How far from camp had Flypaw wandered?

“Listen!” Finleap was still gazing at her.

“What?” Twigbranch dragged her attention back.

“Reedclaw’s my littermate,” Finleap mewed urgently.

“I know that.” What did he want from her?

“I need to visit her.” Finleap searched her gaze.

Twigbranch stared at him. “She’s in SkyClan.”

“So?”

“You’re a ThunderClan warrior now,” she reminded him. “You can’t just visit SkyClan whenever you feel like it.”

“You used to visit Violetshine.”

“When we were apprentices,” she mewed. “We were young. We didn’t care so much about rules.”

“But Reedclaw’s sick.”

“I know.” This conversation was taking too long. Flypaw could be on the other side of ThunderClan territory by now. “And I’m sorry. But SkyClan has a medicine cat. Frecklewish will take care of her. She’ll be fine.”

“What if she’s not?”

“You have to stop worrying about your kin in SkyClan,” Twigbranch told him. “There’s nothing you can do to help them. You left them when you joined ThunderClan.”

Anger sparked in Finleap’s eyes. “I only joined ThunderClan to be with you.”

Twigbranch bristled. “Are you regretting it?”

“No!” Finleap’s eyes glistened. “But I thought we’d be mates by now. I thought we’d be starting a family.”

Twigbranch’s chest tightened. She fought to steady her breathing. Was he going to press her into a relationship before she was ready? “What’s the rush?”

“There’s no rush,” he meowed pointedly. “I thought it’s what you wanted. That’s why I left SkyClan. I thought it’s what we both wanted, but I guess you need more time to be sure.”

Guilt hollowed her belly as he marched away. I should go after him and tell him that I am sure. I don’t need more time. Shame washed her pelt as she stood rooted to the spot and watched him go. I am sure, aren’t I?