Barley glanced over his shoulder at the dense tangle of trees. “I can’t imagine it looks more inviting now than it did when the Clans were here. Kittypets have everything they want from their Twolegs, don’t they? Food, shelter, company, all without having to make any effort.”
Ravenpaw looked sideways at his friend. “Kind of like us, then,” he teased.
Barley bristled. “At least we catch our own prey!”
Ravenpaw purred, though another jab of pain in his belly reminded him that he needed to be more careful about what he ate. The barn provided good hunting, but he couldn’t assume that every catch would make good fresh-kill.
They padded side by side through the long grass at the base of the wooden fence. It felt cool and welcoming under Ravenpaw’s feet, and he reflected that it had been a long time since he had walked this far. Life on the farm had made him soft!
Suddenly there was a hiss above their heads.
“Oi! You down there! What are you doing?”
Ravenpaw and Barley looked up. A ragged-furred brown tabby was crouched on top of the fence, glaring down at them. A scar across his muzzle and notches in his ears suggested that he wasn’t afraid of a fight.
“We’re just passing through,” Barley called. “Don’t worry.”
In a flash the tabby tom sprang down from the fence and blocked their path. His tail lashed. “I’ll decide what I worry about, thank you,” he growled. He stretched out his neck and sniffed. “You’re not from around here. You don’t smell like kittypets, but you don’t smell like the woods, either. Who are you?”
“We live on a farm,” Barley began, but Ravenpaw cut him off.
“Calm down. We’re not doing anyone any harm,” he meowed.
The tabby curled his lip. “I don’t like the look of you,” he snarled. “This is my home”—he nodded to the Twoleg den on the other side of the fence—“and I claim all hunting rights in this part of the woods. You’re not welcome.”
And you’re ridiculous, thought Ravenpaw. But he was tired and his belly hurt, and a fight was the last thing he wanted. “Come on,” he muttered to Barley. “Let’s go.”
They started to walk around the kittypet, but he sprang after them, claws unsheathed. “You don’t think you’re getting away that easily, do you?” He let out a yowl, and in a heartbeat more faces popped up along the fence.
Ravenpaw scanned them in alarm. Kittypets, yes, but also one or two who looked too mean and scrawny to share Twoleg dens.
“I think we should get out of here,” he whispered to Barley, who nodded.
“No need for a fight,” Barley announced. “We’re leaving.”
Ravenpaw and Barley set off again, but the wooden fence rattled behind them as several cats jumped down into the forest.
“Run!” screeched Ravenpaw, and without looking back, he and Barley pelted along the edge of the trees. Ravenpaw felt his chest start to burn, and the ache in his belly sharpened with every footstep. From the noises behind them he could tell that some of the cats had given up, but enough stayed in pursuit to keep Ravenpaw in flight. His fighting days were long gone; all he wanted to do was get out of this place, back to the safety of the barn.
They followed the long curve of the fence until the woods fell away and the ground dropped down beside them to the vast, stench-filled Thunderpath. They were running along a narrow strip of earth now, trapped by the high fence on one side and a cliff on the other. The barn lay in the other direction, and Ravenpaw started to wonder if they would ever find their way back.
Ravenpaw felt his legs start to slow. Beside him, Barley slowed too. “Keep going, Ravenpaw!” he panted. There was a joyful yowl behind them, as if the tabby tom could tell his prey was weakening.
“What is going on?” The air was split with a shriek from the top of the fence, and an orange shape slammed onto the ground at Ravenpaw’s heels. He stumbled to a halt and spun around to see a she-cat arching her back and hissing, her eyes furious slits. Oh, great. Another angry kittypet.
“Violet!” Barley gasped.
Ravenpaw blinked. It’s Barley’s sister!
“Barley!” cried the orange cat. In a heartbeat, she whipped around to face the cats in pursuit. “Stop right there, Madric!” she ordered.
To Ravenpaw’s surprise, the brown tabby skidded to a stop. The two cats behind almost crashed into him. “Go away, Violet,” he snarled. “These cats were trespassing!”
“Nonsense!” spat Violet. “This is my brother, Barley, and his friend Ravenpaw. They are welcome anywhere, do you understand?” She flattened her ears at the tabby tom. “Anywhere.”
The tabby hissed, but he flicked his tail at the cats who had kept pace with him. “Come on,” he growled. “I don’t think they’ll bother us again.” He narrowed his eyes at Ravenpaw. “You’re way out of your depth here, old cat,” he jeered. “Go back to your nest.”
Violet stepped in front of him. “Enough,” she snapped. With a final growl, the hostile cats turned and trotted away. Violet tipped her head to one side, studying Barley and Ravenpaw. “Well, you two looked better the last time I saw you.”
Barley shrugged. “Our bones are getting a little old for this kind of thing,” he admitted. His eyes brightened, and he rubbed his head against Violet’s cheek. “It’s been too long, sister! How are you?”
“I’m well!” she declared. “And I have something to show you!” She led the way to a hole at the foot of the fence. Before squeezing through, she glanced back at Ravenpaw. “Are you okay? Did one of those cats injure you?”
Ravenpaw shook his head, still breathless.
They ducked through the fence and emerged into an enclosed space of smooth green grass edged with strong-smelling bushes. Ravenpaw felt his skin prickle. A Twoleg den was the last place he wanted to be.
“It’s okay,” Violet mewed as if she sensed his hesitation. “We’re not going inside, and my housefolk aren’t home anyway.”
She bounded across the grass and jumped onto a wooden platform that stretched along the side of the red stone den. There was a bundle of soft, brightly colored pelts at one side. As Ravenpaw drew nearer, he saw the pelts quiver, and he picked up a scent he hadn’t smelled in a long, long time . . .
“I’m back, poppets!” Violet called.
Several tiny faces burrowed out of the pelts. Kits! Ravenpaw was whisked back to memories of the nursery: the smell of milk clinging to his fur, the looming, gentle shape of his mother.
“Oh, wow,” breathed Barley as sturdy little bodies swarmed around him, mewling and purring and tugging at his fur with tiny sharp teeth.
“This is my brother, Barley,” Violet announced. “And his friend Ravenpaw. Be gentle, Bella!” she pleaded as a pale orange she-kit reached up and fastened her claws into Ravenpaw’s ear.
Ravenpaw used his front paw to pry her off and placed her back on the ground. Huge green eyes stared up at him curiously. She looks just like Firestar!
“Do you and Barley have kits?” she mewed.
“Er, no,” Ravenpaw answered.
She tipped her head to one side. “Where do you live? What are your housefolk like? Why haven’t you come to see us before?”
“So many questions!” chided Violet, sweeping her tail around her daughter. “Ravenpaw, this is Bella. She started talking before any of the others, and I’m not sure when she’ll stop.” Her voice was warm and full of love as she gazed down at the little orange cat.
Ravenpaw felt something tugging at his tail. A gray tabby tom clutched the tip between his paws and grappled with it. Ravenpaw flicked his tail and the kit rolled away. He almost fell off the wooden platform, and Violet had to leap to stop him.
“Oh, Riley,” she sighed. “Can you try to be a bit less clumsy, please?”
“It was my fault,” Ravenpaw mewed quickly. “Good fighting,” he commented to Riley, who was tottering back on sturdy legs to have another go at his tail. In his mind, Ravenpaw pictured Graystripe as a kit, almost exactly the same color
, except that his eyes had been amber while Riley’s were a clear, piercing blue.
Barley was trying to remove a pair of kits from the top of his head.
“Lulu, Patch, get down!” Violet ordered. She shot an exasperated glance at Ravenpaw. “I’m so sorry. I think they’re a bit overexcited by your visit.”
“We should be going anyway,” meowed Barley. “It’s a long way back to the farm.”
“The farm?” echoed Bella. “What’s that?”
“It’s where we live,” mewed Ravenpaw. “Far away, on the other side of the Thunderpath. It’s a place with sheep and cows, and lots of fields.”
Riley screwed up his face. “What is a sheep and cow? And a field?”
“We’ll visit them one day,” Violet promised, touching the tip of her tail to his dark gray ear. “Now go lie down for your nap.” She herded the kits back to the pile of pelts.
“I’m not even the tiniest bit sleepy,” Ravenpaw heard Bella declare.
Violet shooed them into a huddle of furry bodies, then returned to Barley and Ravenpaw. “It was really good to see you,” she meowed. “Please, come again any time. Or maybe we’ll visit you!”
Barley purred. “You would be very welcome.” He reached out and touched his chin to the top of his sister’s head. “You’re a wonderful mother. I’m so pleased for you.”
“Thank you.” Violet glanced at her kits, squirming and snuffling among the pelts. “They mean the world to me. Now go safely, and try to stay out of Madric’s way. I’d like to say that he’s all snarl and no bite, but I don’t trust him.”
“We won’t go back that way,” Ravenpaw promised. He stroked Violet’s flank with the tip of his tail. “Good-bye, and don’t let those kits wear you out!” Then he turned to Barley. His paws ached with tiredness and his belly was still sore, but the thought of returning to the barn gave him energy. “We’ve had enough adventures for a lifetime today! Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER THREE
Leaf-bare rattled the last dry leaves from the trees and hedges and covered the fields in a thick pelt of snow. Ravenpaw and Barley peeped out at the dense white flakes tumbling silently from the sky. There were still plenty of mice to eat inside the barn, and as the stock of hay shrank, hunting became easier, with fewer places for prey to hide.
The pain in Ravenpaw’s belly became a familiar throb, worse if he ate too much or slept in a cold draft. He could forget about it most of the time. A wrench to his shoulder, from an overzealous game of chase up and down the hay with Barley, was more of a nuisance. Ravenpaw had missed his footing and fallen several fox-lengths onto the stone floor. Barley was beside him in a heartbeat, licking his flank, urging him to keep still.
Ravenpaw flexed each paw in turn and opened his eyes. “I’ll live,” he grunted. But when he stood up, his shoulder burned, and he could hardly put his paw to the ground. Barley helped him to their nest and curled his body around him, soft and hay-scented and comforting.
Ravenpaw sighed. “I’m getting old.”
“Mouse-brain,” Barley purred affectionately. “I’ve seen at least two more leaf-bares than you, and I’m not old!”
Ravenpaw let his eyes close. “Stay with me while I sleep?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Barley promised, settling his chin more comfortably into Ravenpaw’s black fur.
Neither am I, Ravenpaw thought.
Leaf-bare passed, the snow melted, and the days grew almost imperceptibly longer, bringing the hint of new green leaves along the hedgerows. Ravenpaw’s shoulder healed, and he and Barley started to hunt outside again, prowling the fields at twilight as huge brown-and-white owls swooped over their heads.
One evening, as they were making the most of the first genuinely warm day of sunshine, they were startled by a muffled yowl.
“Barley! Ravenpaw!”
Ravenpaw looked around. The cry seemed to come from farther up the hedgerow. He crouched down and prowled along the edge of the field, mouth open to scent the air. There were cats up ahead, definitely. Soft-furred, with a hint of kittypet . . .
“It’s us!” Two fluffed-up shapes sprang out of the hedge in front of Ravenpaw, one pale ginger and the other a dove-gray tabby.
Ravenpaw blinked in surprise. “Riley? Bella? What are you doing here?”
A taller shape emerged behind them. “They insisted on coming to see you,” Violet explained, sounding weary. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Barley bounded up to touch noses with his sister. “Mind? Of course not! It’s great to see you!” He looked at Riley and Bella, who were sniffing a tall blade of grass. “But . . . weren’t there more of them last time?”
Violet’s eyes clouded. “Lulu and Patch have gone to a new home.” She blinked. “But we still see them sometimes, and they are very happy. At least I know they are together.”
Bella bounced up to Ravenpaw. She had grown a lot since their first meeting; her head was up to his shoulder. She was taller than her brother, more angular, and her chin tapered to a point that suggested a strong will. Riley still had traces of his fluffy kit pelt, but he had broad shoulders and sturdy legs.
“Can we go to the farm?” Bella pleaded. “It’s taken ages to get here, and I want to catch a mouse!”
“I’m so hungry I could die!” Riley mewed.
“Of course you can come to our home,” Barley purred. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. We have plenty of food, and warm places for you to sleep.”
Violet’s nostrils flared. “It’s all right; we won’t trouble you for more than a night. I don’t want our housefolk to worry about us too much.”
They headed to the barn, Riley and Bella racing ahead and stopping every time they saw something new. At the sight of their first cow, their eyes bugged out so much that Ravenpaw had to hide a laugh.
“It’s huge!” Bella gasped.
“Are you sure it’s friendly?” Riley whispered, gazing at the animal at the other side of the field.
“Well, it won’t want to talk to you,” meowed Ravenpaw. “But I’m fairly certain they don’t eat cats. What do you think, Barley?”
The black-and-white tom pretended to ponder for a moment. “There was that one time you nearly got your tail bitten off . . . ,” he mewed.
“What?” Violet shrieked.
“That sounds amazing!” mewed Bella. “Tell us about it, Ravenpaw! Did you use your warrior moves to fight the cow?”
Violet looked flustered. “I’m sorry, they’re obsessed with stories about the Clans that used to live in the forest. One of the other kittypets talks about them—I think he met you once, actually. His name is Smudge. Black-and-white, thick fur?”
Ravenpaw nodded, memories pooling around him once more. “Yes, he was a friend of Firestar’s from before he joined ThunderClan.”
“We want to join ThunderClan too!” Riley announced. “We’re really brave, and good at fighting, and I can creep so quietly that Bella doesn’t even know I’m there!”
“I do too!” Bella snorted. “You’re as loud as . . . as . . .”
A volley of barking split the air, making all the cats jump.
“As those dogs!” Bella declared.
Violet crouched down, ready to flee, but Barley rested his tail on her shoulder. “It’s all right; they’re tied up. They like the sound of their own voices, that’s all.”
The dogs continued to bark until a Twoleg hollered from inside the red stone den. Then they fell quiet.
“Come on, let’s show you the barn,” meowed Ravenpaw. The kits were quiet and wide-eyed when they first entered the huge wooden den. Nearly all the hay was gone now, and the far end of the barn was thick with shadows.
Violet shuddered. “It’s a bit creepy.”
Barley purred. “Don’t worry; you’re safe with us. Those ferocious mice won’t attack you while we’re here.”
“Ferocious mice?” Bella echoed, looking delighted.
“Not really,” Ravenpaw meowed. “But they can be tough to
catch sometimes. Would you like to watch me hunt?”
“Yes, please!” Riley and Bella mewed.
“I’ll show you our nest,” Barley told Violet. “You can rest there while Ravenpaw finds you something to eat.”
Ravenpaw led the kits to the back of the barn, where the shadows were so thick he could almost feel them pressing down on his fur. Both young cats did their best to tread quietly; Bella was very light on her paws, and Riley did better than Ravenpaw was expecting, given his bulkier frame. The scent of mice hung on the air. Ravenpaw picked out a trail that seemed fresh and followed it into a corner.
“Keep still,” he whispered to Riley and Bella as he crept forward. He dropped into a hunter’s crouch and stalked toward the tiny hole where the mouse scent was strongest. His recently injured shoulder twinged, so he shifted his weight onto his other three legs. There was a tiny scrabble at the very edge of his hearing. A pointed nose appeared, whiskers twitching. Then the mouse shot out of the hole.
Ravenpaw pounced and killed the mouse with a bite to its neck. I thank StarClan for sending this prey, he thought.
“What did you say?” Riley called. He was standing on tiptoe, craning his neck to see if Ravenpaw had made the catch.
Ravenpaw straightened up with the mouse at his feet. He hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud. He couldn’t remember the last time he had thanked StarClan for prey. “Nothing,” he meowed. “Would you like to carry it back?”
Bouncing with excitement, Riley and Bella dragged the mouse back to the pile of hay. Violet looked astonished.
“Did you catch that yourself?”
Bella let go of her end of the mouse. “No,” she panted. “But we watched Ravenpaw do it! He was brilliant!”
“He hunts like a real warrior!” Riley declared. Ravenpaw purred with amusement. When had this kittypet ever seen a warrior hunt?
“Good catch,” Barley remarked.
“When I’m a warrior, I’m going to hunt just like Ravenpaw,” Bella vowed.
“Not this again, Bella.” Violet sighed. “There aren’t any warriors now, remember?” She glanced at Ravenpaw. “I know you used to be one, of course, but you aren’t anymore, right?”