“He’s got it!” Sagepaw whispered, his eyes gleaming as the loner dropped down and landed with perfect balance onto the narrow branch where the thrush was perching. With one swipe of his paw the tom sank his claws into the bird’s shoulder as it tried to fly away, and killed it with a bite to the back of its neck.
“Very neat catch!” Sparrowpelt declared.
As the cream-colored loner climbed down the tree with his prey clamped in his jaws, Leafstar led the way out from the clump of ferns, with the patrol behind her. As soon as he spotted them, the loner spun around, ready to flee.
“No, wait!” Leafstar mewed. “We’re not trying to steal your prey. We just want to talk to you. I’m—”
The tom interrupted her before she could introduce herself or the others. “I’ve seen you before,” he told her, setting down his fresh-kill. “You’re those cats who live in the gorge.”
“You know about us?” Sparrowpelt asked curiously.
“Not much. I know that you hunt together.”
Sparrowpelt let out a puff of indignation. “It’s a bit more than that!”
Leafstar touched Sparrowpelt’s cheek gently with her tail to silence him. “I am Leafstar, leader of SkyClan,” she announced, dipping her head. “Many seasons ago, other cats lived in the gorge. They were the original SkyClan, and some of these cats are descended from that ancient Clan.”
The loner’s whiskers twitched; Leafstar could see that he didn’t understand what this had to do with him.
“Let me show him!” Cherrytail volunteered eagerly.
Leafstar nodded assent. Instantly Cherrytail swarmed up the beech tree, balanced along the branches until she crossed into the tree beside it, and dropped neatly onto a lower branch, just as the loner had done. “See?” she called, curling her tail up.
The cream-colored tom didn’t look impressed. “She’s just copying me.”
“I am not!” Cherrytail retorted, her fur fluffing up. “I’ve always been able to do that. Now I teach apprentices to do it, too.”
The loner shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t know why you’re telling me.”
Is he mouse-brained or what? Leafstar wondered. Can’t he see that he must be descended from Ancient SkyClan, too? “Would you like to visit the gorge and find out more about us?” she offered.
The tom stared at her. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you might want to join us!” Sagepaw blurted out, bouncing on all four paws with excitement.
Leafstar bit back a rebuke. I was trying to take it slowly, and now he’ll think we’re trying to force him into something.
The loner was gazing at Sagepaw as if he thought the apprentice had gone mad. “No, thanks, I can hunt for myself,” he replied.
“But it’s really great in the gorge,” Cherrytail insisted, jumping down to join the others. “We all look out for one another—”
“And we meet on the Skyrock to talk to StarClan,” Sparrowpelt added.
Leafstar winced. Now he’ll think we’ve got bees in our brain!
“Do come,” Petalnose persuaded. “You’ll learn all sorts of stuff, and meet new friends.”
The loner took a step back; Leafstar realized that the others were overwhelming him. “That’s enough,” she told the patrol. “He doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to. Take care,” she added to the tom.
“And stay out of our territory, too!” Sparrowpelt chipped in. “Don’t try any of your fancy hunting skills on the other side of those border marks!”
The cream-colored loner snatched up his prey and raced off into the trees without looking back.
“I wish he’d stayed,” Sagepaw murmured, his whiskers drooping with disappointment.
“Yes, he’s already as good as a trained warrior,” Cherrytail agreed, with a lash of her tail. “And he has no idea what his hunting skills mean!”
“I wish I was descended from SkyClan,” Petalnose murmured.
“You might be,” Cherrytail meowed loyally.
“Well, I can’t climb trees like you can.”
“I don’t care.” Sagepaw affectionately nuzzled his mother’s shoulder fur. “You’re perfect just as you are!”
The sun was going down; the trees cast long, black shadows and a chilly breeze whispered over the grass. It was time to return to the gorge. Leafstar collected her patrol with a sweep of her tail; as they headed back through the trees, Sparrowpelt came to pad beside her.
“If I see the loner again, I’ll have another go at trying to persuade him,” he promised.
“Don’t try too hard,” Leafstar warned him, brushing his shoulder with her tail-tip. “And don’t be too tough about chasing him off. SkyClan is open to those who want to join, but there’s room in the woods for loners, too, as long as they respect our borders.”
We don’t need to force any cat to swell the ranks of SkyClan. Let’s wait and see what happens.
CHAPTER 19
Stick padded across the grass of a Twoleg garden. Ahead of him, the nest was outlined against a harsh scarlet sky. There was a metallic tang in the air, and when Stick looked down he saw that his paws were clogged with blood. A Twoleg rabbit lay dead in front of him, and scraps of black-and-white fur littered the ground.
I didn’t kill it! Stick thought, bewildered.
He turned to flee as the door of the Twoleg nest was flung open and a huge male Twoleg charged out. It opened its jaws to yowl, but what came out was the terrified screech of a cat.
Stick jumped; his eyes blinked open and he found himself curled up in a huddle with Red, Cora, and Shorty in the shelter of a sloping sheet of wood that rested against the wall of a Twoleg den. Wind swirled along the alley and rain spattered down, pushing cold claws into Stick’s fur.
The terrified screech came again. Raising his head, Stick spotted Percy a few fox-lengths away, his fur bristling as he gazed around wildly with his one good eye. “They’re here!” he yowled. “Dodge and Misha are coming!”
Stick stiffened and Cora started awake, but at that moment Snowy appeared from behind a garbage can and rested her white tail over Percy’s shoulders.
“No cat is coming,” she mewed soothingly. “You had a bad dream, that’s all. Come back here with me and Coal.”
Percy stood still for a moment longer, his fur gradually beginning to lie flat, then followed the white she-cat back into shelter.
Cora stretched her jaws in a yawn. “Percy and his nightmares. He’s afraid he’s going to lose the other eye.”
Anger churned in Stick’s belly. We have to do something about Dodge.
Cora had already lowered her head and curled up again. Stick checked on Red and Shorty, who were still asleep; Shorty was snoring softly, blowing out his breath through his whiskers, while Red’s ear twitched as if she was dreaming.
Stick settled down and closed his eyes. We need all the sleep we can get if we’re going to catch enough prey at night.
The cold weather meant that prey was scarce, especially when they had to compete with Dodge and his followers for every mouse, bird, and scrawny squirrel. Stick unsheathed his claws and let them sink into the damp soil, remembering how Dodge was claiming more and more time for his cats to hunt, even though the days grew dark early.
I don’t want to give into him. But how can we hunt if we have to get into a fight every time?
Red’s scent and the feeling of her pelt pressed up against his soothed Stick’s anger. The young she-cat had been away so much lately; it was good to have her back. She was looking sleek and well fed, too, suggesting to Stick that she had been hunting farther afield.
That’s fine with me. Just as long as she doesn’t put herself at risk of getting attacked by Dodge and his flea-ridden friends while she’s on her own.
Not for the first time, Stick wondered if they should all leave and find somewhere else to live, maybe the place where Red was hunting.
But we were here first. This is our home, and I don’t want to give it up.
A fai
nt sound from the corner of the alley disturbed him as he was slipping into sleep again. As he lifted his head, unsure what had roused him, Red rose to her paws.
“I’ll go and investigate,” she meowed, trotting off with her tail raised high.
Stick sprang up. “Wait, I’ll come with you.”
Red turned on him, her lips drawn back in the beginnings of a snarl. “Don’t you trust me?” she snapped. “I’m not a kit anymore! Don’t you think I can look after myself?”
Stick struggled out from the narrow gap behind the sheet of wood and ran after the young she-cat as she stalked away down the alley. “Wait!” he called. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know exactly what you meant,” Red hissed, refusing to look at him.
“No, you don’t!” Stick picked up his pace. “I’m trying to help you.”
This time Red whirled around to face him. Her green eyes blazed with anger and she gave a single lash of her tail. “I don’t need help. I’m not stupid; I know how to stay away from Dodge. And if I do run into him or his cats, I can fight as well as the rest of you. Why won’t you see that?”
“I do see it, but…” Stick ran out of words. With a growl of frustration, he finished, “Everything would be easier if Velvet was still here.”
As soon as the words were out, he knew he had said the wrong thing.
“Don’t you dare blame my mother!” Red spat. “I know what’s wrong. You wish I’d never been born! I’m obviously too much of a burden for you.”
Spinning around again, she raced off, her tail flowing out behind her.
“Red, come back and—”
Stick broke off as he spotted a flash of gray-brown fur at the corner where Red was heading. One of Dodge’s cats is lying in wait for her!
“Red!” he yowled.
Red whisked around the corner as if she hadn’t heard. The other cat slipped closer, though he kept to the shadows and Stick couldn’t get a good look at him.
Stick was about to follow, when a terrible noise exploded behind him: yowling and crashing and rattling coming from the other end of the alley. Stick spun around, every hair on his pelt standing on end.
Twolegs were pouring into the mouth of the alley. They carried sticks, banging and clattering them against shiny silver circles and sheets of wood. Their voices were raised in shouts and screams that made a flock of sparrows rush up from a nearby wall, chattering in alarm.
Stick raced back down the alley to where Cora and Shorty were huddled behind a garbage can, their eyes wide with terror.
“Out!” he snapped, shoving them both into the open. “Run!”
Closer to the Twolegs, Coal and Snowy were trying to urge Percy along, but the dark gray tabby could hardly stagger between them, his legs stiff and his gaze fixed as if he had seen his worst nightmares come true.
There was no sign of Red or the other cat Stick had spotted in the shadows. For a moment he was torn between staying to help his friends, or going after his daughter. With a quick glance up and down the alley he realized that his companions could look after themselves and help one another.
Red is all alone, with that strange cat after her!
He turned tail on the Twolegs and bolted around the corner after Red and the other cat. Almost at once he picked up his daughter’s scent and the scent of the cat he had glimpsed in the shadows. Red was definitely being followed. The banging and crashing carried on behind him, but he was too worried about Red to turn back. He opened his mouth to distinguish the cat scents among all the other smells that thronged the air and kept his ears pricked to pick up the tiniest sound beneath the din from the attacking Twolegs.
The trail led him down the alley and through a series of backyards until it reached a crumbling wooden Twoleg nest. The door hung off its fastenings, and there were gaping holes in the walls and roof. Brambles had wound their tendrils around the walls as if they were trying to pull it into the earth.
Stick’s belly churned. That cat has Red trapped in there!
There was no sound when he paused to listen, so he followed the scent trail through a gap in the brambles that led to a jagged hole in the shed wall. In the darkness he could just make out two shadows close together, the larger figure bending over the smaller one.
Has that cat killed her?
Stick leaped into the shed with a screech and thrust the other cat away from his daughter. They rolled together on the hard earth floor in a tangle of legs and tail.
“What are you doing?” Red hissed.
Stick scrambled to his paws and let his opponent roll away from him. It was a powerful gray-and-brown tabby tom. Green fire blazed in his eyes, and he bared his teeth in a snarl as he slid out his claws and crouched, ready to spring on Stick again.
“Harley, don’t!” Red cried.
Stick whirled to face his daughter.
“I knew you didn’t trust me,” Red spat, glaring at her father. “You followed me to spy on me!”
“I didn’t!” Stick growled. “I thought you were in danger.”
“She’s not.” The gray-brown tom, Harley, padded over to Red and stood so close to her that their pelts brushed. “I’d never let anything happen to her.”
“I don’t believe you!” Stick was still braced for an attack, even though the tom had sheathed his claws. “You’re leading her into a trap.”
“Are you completely mouse-brained?” Red thrust her face close to her father’s, her whiskers quivering in fury. “Harley came to take me away from the alley today because he knew the Twolegs were going to attack.”
Stick stared at her. If the wooden nest had fallen around his ears at the moment, he wouldn’t have been able to move. “You knew? And you never thought to warn the rest of us? You just went off and left us?”
“What else could I do?” Red stood her ground, unrepentant. “None of you would have believed a warning from one of Dodge’s friends, would you?”
Stick wasn’t going to admit she was right. “If you left us to die, you’re no daughter of mine,” he snarled.
“Fine!” Red flashed back at him.
A red haze swept across Stick’s eyes. He slid out his claws and raised a paw to lash his claws across his daughter’s face. Harley leaped in front of her, knocking Stick’s paw to the side. As Stick struggled to stay on his feet, the haze of anger died away, and he saw the fear in Red’s eyes. Every muscle in his body turned to ice as he realized what he had almost done.
Stick wanted to tell her how sorry he was. But the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t meet her eyes or talk to her at all. “She’s all yours,” he growled to Harley, and turned away.
Thrusting his way through the gap in the shed wall, Stick crawled out through the bramble tunnel and across the yards into the alley. He picked up the pace until he was racing along, as if he could leave his horror and disgust behind with Red and the gray-brown tom.
The Twoleg noise had died away as Stick approached the corner of the alley. The air was filled with a silence that made his ears ring. As he turned the corner, Snowy and Cora came to meet him; their eyes were wide and their fur fluffed up.
“Stick, where were you?” Cora wailed. “The Twolegs took Percy!”
CHAPTER 20
“With so many new warriors in the Clan,” Sharpclaw meowed, “maybe we ought to think about expanding the territory.”
The sun was up, pouring golden light into the gorge, but Leafstar’s den still lay in shadow when her deputy arrived, dipping his head politely as he padded in.
“That’s a good point,” Leafstar mused, waving her tail to invite Sharpclaw to sit beside her.
“I suggest sending out two patrols, one on either side of the gorge,” the ginger tom went on. “They can investigate the area just outside our borders, and see if there are any good hunting grounds or moss places that we should include.”
“That could work,” she agreed. “And they ought to look for possible dangers as well. We don’t want to enclose territory that we can’t defend.” r />
Sharpclaw gave her a brisk nod. “I’ll go and set up the patrols, then. I’ll get Stick and Shorty to lead them.”
“Just a moment.” Leafstar stopped her deputy as he was rising to his paws. “There were problems the other day when you assigned Stick and Shorty to lead hunting patrols. The other cats aren’t used to them yet.”
“Then they’ll have to get used to them,” Sharpclaw snapped. “Stick and the others are full warriors of SkyClan now.”
Leafstar sighed. “True, but it’s not as easy as that. You can’t control how cats feel. Besides, is it a good idea to let newcomers lead these patrols, instead of cats who are more familiar with the territory?”
“They’ve all taken part in border patrols often enough,” Sharpclaw pointed out with a flick of his tail.
“All the same,” Leafstar mewed firmly, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to single out the newcomers for special duties instead of cats who have grown up in the Clan. Not all the time. It’s going to cause problems.”
Sharpclaw flexed his claws in annoyance, while Leafstar tried to ignore the rising tension between herself and her deputy. What’s happening to us? Why is Sharpclaw always trying to challenge me?
“The way I see it is—” Sharpclaw began, his voice rising irritably.
He broke off as a shadow fell across the mouth of the den and Ebonyclaw poked her head inside. “Leafstar, may I have a word with you?”
“We’re busy,” Sharpclaw meowed. “Come back later.”
Already ruffled by their argument, Leafstar was furious that her deputy was answering for her. “No, Ebonyclaw, it’s fine,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “Sharpclaw and I were just finishing. Stick and Patchfoot will lead the patrols,” she added to her deputy, with a wave of her tail to dismiss him.
“Fine.” Sharpclaw gave his leader an icy glare and stalked out of the den.