Outcast

  “Maybe we need to teach them they’re wrong,” Tawnypelt suggested with a lash of her tail.

  Talon shook his head. “It’s not worth it. We never found much prey there. If we go a bit farther along this ridge, we come to another valley with a stream. There’s grass growing there and a few bushes, and you can generally pick up a mouse or two, or even a rabbit if you’re lucky. We get moss for bedding from there, too.”

  Lionpaw looked in the direction he pointed. A few fox-lengths farther along the ridge there was a twisted spike of stone like a lightning-blasted tree. “That would make a good border marker,” he suggested to Brambleclaw.

  Brambleclaw nodded. “Good thinking. And the valley with the stream should be part of the Tribe’s territory.”

  The Tribe cats made no comment, though they exchanged doubtful glances. With a flash of sympathy Lionpaw guessed that they might feel they were losing their territory anyway, to the Clan cats who were telling them what to do.

  “Can you take us there, Talon?” Brambleclaw asked.

  “Sure.” The big cave-guard set out along the ridge and Lionpaw followed with the other Clan cats, being very careful where he put his paws. The eagle, he was relieved to see, had disappeared.

  The next valley, when they came to it, looked more inviting for hunting, with plenty of cover for prey. Talon would have turned down into it, but Brambleclaw urged them on, following the top of the ridge.

  “We need to walk all the way around the border,” he meowed, “or at least where we think the border might be.”

  “What?” Bird looked startled. “We can’t possibly go all that way in a single day.”

  “It takes longer here, you know,” Gray added. “It’s not like traveling on flat ground.”

  “I know that,” Brambleclaw responded, understanding in his amber eyes. “But time isn’t on your side. The intruders aren’t going to wait for you.”

  Talon let out a low growl. “You’re right. Let’s get going.”

  He led the group of cats along the top of the valley, taking in the spike of stone as a border marker. The ridge dipped at the point where it crossed the head of the valley, where the stream poured out from a cleft between two rocks.

  “This is another good place for a marker,” Brambleclaw explained. “Once the border is decided, you’ll need to place scent markers every day, and it’s best to choose places that are easy to remember.”

  Talon nodded, but Lionpaw thought he still didn’t look convinced that marking the territory was what the Tribe wanted to do.

  From here their route lay across a plateau covered by loose, sharp stones, then over several steep ridges where there were no paths to guide them. The sun climbed high in the sky. Lionpaw’s legs ached, and he lost count of the number of times he scraped his pads on rough stone. He left smudges of blood behind him as he walked. Even the Tribe cats began to look exhausted.

  Brambleclaw halted abruptly as he rounded a huge boulder and Lionpaw almost crashed into him. The dark tabby’s fur was bristling and Lionpaw picked up the scent of anger. Alert for danger, he stretched up to look over his father’s shoulder.

  He was overlooking a hollow with a pool at the bottom and a few straggly bushes. Three cats were just emerging from the shelter of the branches; the first one had a mouse dangling from his jaws. All three of them paused and looked up curiously.

  “What’s going on?” a black tom asked. “What do you want?”

  “We could ask you the same question,” Brambleclaw replied, taking a few paces forward to stand on the lip of the hollow.

  Talon stalked up to stand beside him, and Tawnypelt joined him on the other side. Lionpaw noticed Bird and Gray taking up positions where they could spot any other intruders approaching, while Crowfeather skirted the top of the hollow until he could keep watch on the bushes from the other side.

  The black tom who had spoken narrowed his eyes. “If you’re looking for a fight, you can have one.”

  “We’re not looking for a fight.” Brambleclaw’s voice was calm, though Lionpaw saw his neck fur still fluffed out and knew he was poised to launch himself into battle if he had to. “We’re setting boundaries. This will be the Tribe’s territory, but you and your friends can have the rest of the mountains. When we’ve finished, it will be clear which parts are which.”

  Lionpaw thought that sounded fair, but the trespassers obviously didn’t agree. The third of the party, a pale gray she-cat, looked up at Brambleclaw with cold blue eyes. “Who are you to tell us where we can’t go?” she asked scornfully. “We have a right to hunt where we like.”

  “This is our place,” Talon growled.

  “Then stop us,” the she-cat challenged him. “You haven’t managed it so far.”

  “And your borders won’t stop us, either,” the black tom added.

  Talon’s tail lashed and he crouched down, ready to spring. Across the hollow, Crowfeather let out an earsplitting yowl. The three intruders drew closer together, their claws out and their ears flattened.

  “Stop!” Brambleclaw raised his tail. “There’ll be no blood shed today. Go back to your leader, if you have one,” he told the trespassing cats. “Tell all your cats that the borders will be in place from tomorrow and must not be crossed.” He stepped back from the edge of the hollow and gestured to Talon with his tail. “Let them go.”

  The big cave-guard let out a snarl as the intruders stalked past him, but he didn’t lift a paw to stop them. “Next time you won’t be so lucky,” he spat.

  The only reply was an insolent tail wave from the gray she-cat as the intruders disappeared between two boulders. Tawnypelt bounded after them, halting at the spot where they had vanished.

  “They’ve gone,” she reported after a few heartbeats.

  But they’ll be back. Lionpaw didn’t speak the thought aloud, but he guessed that every cat there shared it.

  “What’s the point of all this?” Gray asked despondently. “Those cats will never respect our borders.”

  “We might as well go back to the cave,” Bird agreed.

  “No, you mustn’t give up,” Brambleclaw urged them. “Once the borders are in place, you can keep reinforcing the scent markers until the trespassers finally get the message.”

  Lionpaw wasn’t sure his father was right. Surely borders depended on agreement from both sides? And if one side didn’t agree, the scent markers had to be backed up by teeth and claws. Were the Tribe cats capable of fighting to protect their territory?

  Talon led the way around the hollow, enclosing it within the Tribe’s territory, then headed between the boulders and through a narrow split in the rock wall, a twisting path just wide enough for one cat at a time. The fur on Talon’s broad shoulders brushed the rock on either side.

  They had traveled down this trail for several fox-lengths when they came to a place where it grew a little wider, with tumbled stones at the foot of the cliff face. A wild screech sounded from above their heads. A heartbeat later a body landed on top of Lionpaw, knocking him off his paws. He rolled onto his side to find he was facing a young tortoiseshell with lightning streaks on her face.

  “I know you!” he gasped. “I saw you yesterday.”

  The tortoiseshell lashed out with one paw and batted him over the head. Lionpaw barely registered that she hadn’t unsheathed her claws. After the exhausting, frustrating day, all he wanted was to stretch his muscles in a fight. He sprang up and hurled himself on top of the young cat.

  As he battered her with his hind paws he caught a glimpse of Tawnypelt rolling over and over with a gray cat clinging to her fur. Another young cat was riding on Talon’s shoulders, screeching and digging in his claws. More scuffling noises came from farther up the path; the air was filled with shrieks and caterwauls.

  There was hardly enough room on the narrow trail to fight effectively. The tortoiseshell threw Lionpaw off, scrambled up onto a boulder, and spat defiance at him, her back arched and her tail fluffed out.

  Spinning around, Li
onpaw saw Brambleclaw with a huge paw planted on the neck of a young ginger tom, while just beyond him a pair of identical tabbies had Bird down on her side, raking their claws through her fur. With a yowl of rage, Lionpaw leaped right over Brambleclaw and flung himself on the nearest tabby.

  “Don’t shed any more blood than you must!” Brambleclaw hissed at him.

  Lionpaw was almost too furious to listen. But he kept his claws sheathed as he knocked one tabby aside and bared his teeth at the other while he helped Bird regain her paws.

  Almost as soon as it had begun, the fight was over. The trespassing cats scattered, fleeing down the path in one direction or the other, or leaping back up the rocks and disappearing.

  Brambleclaw padded up to Lionpaw and pushed his muzzle into the fur on his shoulder. “Well fought,” he meowed. “Are you okay?”

  Warmth spread through Lionpaw from ears to tail tip at his father’s praise. “I’m fine,” he replied. “They weren’t fighting hard.”

  “They looked like apprentices to me.” Crowfeather padded up, spitting out a mouthful of gray fur.

  “Maybe they were having a bit of fun,” Brambleclaw suggested.

  “Fun!” Crowfeather rolled his eyes.

  “They were just trying to scare us.” Tawnypelt leaped down from the boulder where she had sprung to chase off her attacker. “They weren’t hunting or protecting their camp.”

  “You Clan cats fought well.” Talon staggered back along the path. He hesitated and added almost to himself, “Won’t these battles ever end?”

  Gray and Bird were exchanging uneasy glances. Bird murmured, “I don’t think we’ll ever have our home to ourselves again.”

  The Tribe cats had come off worst in the battle, Lionpaw realized. Gray’s ear was bleeding, while Bird had scratches down one side and Talon had lost fur from his shoulders. They really needed to learn warrior fighting techniques.

  But instead, they seemed to be giving up. What hope was there for the Clan cats to help them, if the Tribe cats wouldn’t even help themselves?

  CHAPTER 24

  Hollypaw led the to-bes out of the cave in time to see Lionpaw and the rest of Brambleclaw’s patrol disappear across the rocks. For a heartbeat she wished she could go with them. But she knew it was equally important to give the Tribe to-bes some practice in warrior fighting techniques.

  “Sit there and watch,” Breezepaw ordered when every cat had emerged from the cave and leaped down to the open space beside the pool. “Hollypaw and I will show you how to fight.”

  Hollypaw’s pelt prickled. Even if they were acting as mentors, he didn’t have to sound so bossy! “Why don’t we let them show us what they know already?” she suggested. “We might be able to build on that.”

  “Well…okay.” Breezepaw gave an ungracious shrug.

  “Only the cave-guards learn this stuff,” Pebble explained, stepping forward to face Hollypaw. “We’re taught how to fight off eagles if they try to attack the prey-hunters.”

  Hollypaw sat down and wrapped her tail around her paws. “Fine. Show me what you do.”

  Pebble crouched down, then used her powerful hind legs to thrust herself into the air. At the top of her leap she lashed out with both forepaws, then landed neatly and dropped right away into another crouch.

  Hollypaw was impressed; the leap was beautifully timed to fight off a flying enemy. How could she adapt it to attack one on the ground?

  “That was great,” she meowed. “Can you all do it?”

  A couple of the other to-bes stepped forward. “We can. We’re going to be cave-guards like Pebble.”

  Three to-bes, including Screech and Splash, remained standing by the pool. All three of them were giving Hollypaw and Breezepaw hostile looks.

  “I don’t see why we have to do what you tell us,” Screech muttered. “You’re not warriors yet.”

  “We know more than you about fighting,” Breezepaw shot back at him.

  Hollypaw stifled a sigh. Breezepaw was right, but being so obnoxious about it was only going to ruffle Screech’s fur. “We’re doing it because Brambleclaw asked us to.”

  “So what?” Screech turned his back rudely, then glanced over his shoulder to add, “He’s not our leader. We don’t have to do what he says.”

  “Besides, we’re prey-hunters.” At least Splash was being more polite than her Tribemate. “We’re trained to hunt.”

  “Okay, pretend Breezepaw over there is a rabbit.”

  “Hey!” Breezepaw protested.

  Before he could say any more, Splash had dropped into something similar to the hunter’s crouch and gave an enormous leap to land on top of him. The WindClan apprentice threw her off and scrambled to his paws, shaking his ruffled fur.

  “Well done!” Hollypaw mewed. “That would be great in a battle, but you’d need to follow it up with some claw work, or sink your teeth into your opponent’s throat.”

  Splash nodded; to Hollypaw’s relief she was looking interested rather than hostile. “I’d do that to the rabbit,” she pointed out, “but I thought I’d better not do it to him.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Breezepaw growled.

  “Your leap would be good, too.” Hollypaw turned back to the cave-guard group. “But instead of clawing at the top of the leap, land on your enemy’s back, and then use your claws.” That was quite an advanced move, and the trespassing cats might not be expecting it. “Now Breezepaw and I will show you some more basic skills,” she added.

  They ran through some of the techniques a new apprentice would learn: dashing past an enemy to rake its side with their claws, and rolling over to claw an opponent’s belly with their hind paws.

  “Now let’s see you try,” Breezepaw ordered. “In pairs, a cave-guard with a prey-hunter.”

  “And remember, claws sheathed for practice,” Hollypaw added.

  She and Breezepaw sat side by side to watch the to-bes. To her surprise, the prey-hunters were picking up the new techniques faster. They were more agile, and she guessed it helped that they didn’t have to unlearn the moves the cave-guards already knew.

  On the other side of the pool, Squirrelflight and Stormfur were training some of the older Tribe cats. Hollypaw heard one of them meow, “Why do we have to do this? We’ve stuck to our ways for season after season and we’ve been fine until now.”

  Hollypaw felt a stab of sympathy. She could understand why the Tribe cats wanted to continue in the ways of their ancestors, and she hated forcing them to change. But they have to learn, she told herself. It’s the only way they’re going to survive. She comforted herself with the thought that once the borders were properly established, less blood would be spilled. The trespassers would think twice before attacking cats who knew how to defend themselves.

  When the practice was over, she let Breezepaw take the prey-hunters to learn one or two more advanced moves, while she worked with the cave-guards, trying to adapt some of their own techniques.

  Sunhigh came and went. Hollypaw’s belly was rumbling, but none of the to-bes suggested stopping to eat, and she guessed that they only had one meal a day. For a couple of heartbeats she longed to be back in ThunderClan, where she could take a piece of fresh-kill from the pile any time she liked, provided she had done all her apprentice duties.

  Finally she signaled the to-bes to rest by the side of the pool. “That was great,” she mewed. “I’m surprised Stoneteller hasn’t been out to watch you. I think he’d be proud to see how much you’ve learned.”

  “Stoneteller hardly ever leaves the cave,” Pebble told her.

  Hollypaw’s eyes stretched wide in shock. “Really?”

  “He only comes out for ceremonies at the top of the waterfall, like when a to-be becomes a full Tribe cat,” Splash meowed.

  “And sometimes for emergencies,” Pebble added.

  “I suppose that’s different in the Clans, too,” Screech sneered. Eventually he’d started to work at the training, but Hollypaw could tell he didn’t like it.

&
nbsp; “Yes, a Clan leader hunts and patrols with his warriors,” Breezepaw explained. “And fights if he has to.”

  “Doesn’t that mean there’s a danger he’ll be killed?” Pebble asked, just as shocked as Hollypaw had been a moment before.

  “Sort of.” Hollypaw didn’t want to get started on how a Clan leader had nine lives. She wasn’t sure if the Tribe of Endless Hunting had given nine lives to Stoneteller, and the Tribe cats might feel resentful if not. Besides, the forest was a much safer place to live than the mountains; it was easier to shelter from hawks, and there weren’t many places where a cat might fall to its death. She looked around at the cold gray rocks that surrounded her, and homesickness stabbed her again, sharp as a claw.

  “I think we should keep going,” she began, rising to her paws to begin another training session.

  She broke off as something landed on her from behind, bowling her over until she finished up sprawling on the very edge of the pool, with her tail in the water. Breezepaw had pinned her down with both paws on her chest. His amber eyes shone gleefully.

  “That’s the best way to tackle an enemy!” he boasted. “When they’re not expecting you.”

  He stepped back; Hollypaw heard mrrows of laughter from the to-bes as she scrambled to her paws.

  “Stupid furball!” she meowed, flicking water from her tail into his face. But she couldn’t really be angry. That was exactly the sort of thing she and Lionpaw might have done to each other, back in ThunderClan territory. “Breezepaw’s right,” she went on. “And hunting techniques are good for creeping up on an enemy who doesn’t know you’re there. Let’s practice some.”

  But when the practice session started, Hollypaw felt too hollow with hunger to do it well. Her paws were clumsy; she couldn’t set them down as lightly as she wanted. She was relieved when the scent of cats announced the return of Lionpaw with Brambleclaw and the rest of the border patrol.

  Her brother was limping badly as he picked his way down the rocks toward the pool. Hollypaw quickly dismissed the to-bes; they were all getting too tired to go on much longer anyway. Breezepaw accompanied them back into the cave, telling them a story about battling a fox on WindClan territory.