Bramblestar's Storm

For a moment Bramblestar thought that he could see Firestar and Dustpelt weaving around the two new-made elders, the four cats united again. But before he could be certain, the image faded.

Die, ShadowClan trespasser!” “Get off, you great lump!” Jayfeather protested, though there was laughter in his voice. Squirrelflight whipped around. “Honestly! How old are you both?

Firestar and Dustpelt were dead; Graystripe and Sandstorm were the last remaining cats of their generation.

We should have learned by now not to be surprised by kittypets." Graystripe

Leafpool picked up her bundle and bounded off through the trees. Bramblestar watched her go, more glad than he could express that she was ThunderClan’s medicine cat once more.

memorial branch had fallen on its side, but it was still visible, poking up out of the water below the Highledge. Brackenfur and Dustpelt waded over to it and dragged it back to the bushes where the other cats waited. “It’s not floating very well,” Brackenfur

You will know when the time comes,” Cloudstar replied. Could you be any more vague? Firestar thought irritably.

Somehow, grief had seemed easier to bear when the skies were dark and a cold wind kept cats and prey inside their nests.

Minty: "My name is Minty. What's yours?" Bramblestar: "I'm Bramblestar. Those are Graystripe, Dovewing, and Thornclaw." Minty: "What weird names!

I just want to say that I will continue to serve my Clan and the warrior code, even from the elders’ den.” Her green gaze, full of love and loyalty, swept around the circle of her Clanmates. “I wish Firestar were here at my side,” she went on, her voice shaking, “but I know he’s watching over me, and over all of us.

I wish to create a new rule for the warrior code: that each Clan has the right to be proud and independent, but in times of trouble they must forget their boundaries and fight side by side to protect the four. Each Clan must help the others so that no Clan will fall.

and not a day goes by when I don’t think of Silverstream, Feathertail, and Stormfur. But I have no quarrel with StarClan for the path they chose for me, and I’m proud of all my kits. Blossomfall for her courage and skill in battle; Bumblestripe for his loyalty and compassion; and Briarlight for her bravery, her humbling spirit, and her hopefulness. I shall be watching all of you from the elders’ den; you can be sure of that.

Blood does not have to mean death. It can bring more strength than you can imagine.

This one is for Ferncloud,” Dewpaw continued. “She was killed by Brokenstar when she was defending the kits in the nursery. And this is Sorreltail. She hid her wounds because she wanted to take care of the kits, but she died just when we thought we had won. She was the bravest of all.

The ginger she-cat behind him is Scarlet, and the silver tabby is O’Hara.

No, Bramblestar thought. I did what I thought you would think was right.

Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Our kit having kits! That’s awesome.” A deep purr rumbled up from her chest.

Hollyleaf, Sorreltail, and Ferncloud in the Great Battle, and Icecloud and Hazeltail from greencough.

Oh, no,” meowed Thornclaw. “There’s not enough meat on you to be a decent meal.” Minty squeaked, and Bramblestar tapped Thornclaw with his tail. “Don’t torment her. Minty, you won’t be eaten.

Are you sure you’re okay?” Bramblestar went on more anxiously, spotting a scratch on Lionblaze’s shoulder. He’s limping on that forepaw, too.

Nothing stays the same,” Bramblestar told her, brushing her ear with his muzzle. However much you want it to.

Thornclaw looked doubtful. “That ShadowClan warrior was right. It’s not up to ThunderClan to save every cat.” Bramblestar met his gaze. “If we can save one life, StarClan would want us to try.

Willowshine and I created a circle of ferns in which we can each remember our lost Clanmates,

I’ve got something to tell you,” Lionblaze confessed as they skirted the top of the cliffs that surrounded the hollow. “Cinderheart is expecting my kits.

For once she was telling him a story. “So Firestar—he was Firepaw then—was hunting in the old forest and he came upon this skinny old gray she-cat . . .

Why can’t StarClan tell us something clearly, instead of talking in riddles?

Hey, Frankie!” he called. “Benny is black and white, right? Could this be his?

I have come to tell you something very important,” Firestar meowed. “When water meets blood, blood will rise.