Outcast

  Stoneteller nodded. “Very well.”

  He let Brambleclaw take the lead along the Path of Rushing Water and out into the open. Lionpaw paused briefly before leaping from the rocks to the flat ground around the pool. The sky was covered with gray clouds, so low that they rested on the mountain peaks. The air was heavy, with a taste of rain to come. The blue skies and warm sun of greenleaf could have been moons away.

  Crowfeather’s patrol climbed the path beside the waterfall and vanished, while Brambleclaw led his cats over the rocks opposite, the same route they had followed the day before. He set a brisk pace until they reached the twisted spike of rock that Lionpaw had picked out as the first border marker.

  “We’ll set a scent marker here,” Brambleclaw announced. “Lionpaw, would you like to demonstrate?”

  “Shouldn’t it be Tribe scent?” Talon asked.

  “Of course,” mewed Brambleclaw. “You and Pebble can do the rest, once Lionpaw has shown you how.”

  The three Tribe cats glanced at one another. Lionpaw could see that they weren’t sure that marking a border would make any difference to the aggressive intruders. He couldn’t help agreeing; scent markers were useless unless they were reinforced with teeth and claws when it was needed.

  “I don’t know why we bother,” Breezepaw muttered in his ear. “They just don’t think like Clan cats. They have no idea how to make a border work.”

  When Lionpaw had set the marker the patrol continued along the ridge to the head of the valley with the stream, and then on across the plateau. Brambleclaw chose a stack of loose rocks as another vantage point for a marker. Water dripped over them from a narrow crack, leaving them slick and green with a thin covering of moss.

  “What use is this in our territory?” Stoneteller objected, as Talon prepared to set the marker. “These rocks are always so wet that no prey can survive here.”

  “That’s not the point,” Brambleclaw explained. “Markers need to be seen and easily identified. It’s great if they’re useful as well, but they don’t need to be.”

  Stoneteller gave a doubtful snort but didn’t object anymore as Talon set the marker. He was silent as they continued around the pool where they had clashed with the three intruders and along the narrow valley where the young trespassers had ambushed them.

  When they had climbed out of the valley, Pebble set a scent marker at the base of a huge boulder overlooking a craggy slope that led down to a clump of scrubby, windblown trees.

  “What about those?” Stoneteller asked, pointing with his tail. “We need that place in our territory.”

  Brambleclaw surveyed the terrain with narrowed eyes. “It’s not worth it,” he decided. “They’re too hard to reach from here.”

  “But Tribe cats have hunted there for seasons. The trees bear our claw marks.”

  Lionpaw saw the slight bristling of his father’s neck fur that told him Brambleclaw was trying not to show his annoyance.

  “Your border has to be manageable if you’re to stand any chance of defending it,” he explained. “Your main aim must be to enclose enough territory to support the Tribe. And you must leave the trespassers enough space for themselves; otherwise you’re asking them to attack you.”

  Lionpaw saw Talon nodding as if he understood, but Stoneteller lashed his tail and hissed through bared teeth. “Suit yourself, Clan cat.”

  Brambleclaw just dipped his head and motioned to Talon to take the lead again.

  Their route lay over the shoulder of a hill and down a boulder-covered slope to a stream in the valley below. Before they reached the bottom, icy rain began to fall, stinging as the wind drove it into the cats’ faces. Within a few heartbeats, Lionpaw’s pelt was soaked. Shivering, he longed for the shelter of thick, leafy branches.

  “How do you Tribe cats stand it?” he asked Pebble. “Even when the sun shines, it’s so windy up here. And this rain is just—”

  “I’ll show you,” Pebble interrupted.

  She quickened her pace, bounding down among the boulders until she reached the side of the stream. Curious, Lionpaw followed her. He found her rolling in the mud on the bank until her pelt was thoroughly plastered with it.

  “Try it,” she invited, springing up. “It keeps the warmth in and the cold wind out. And prey-hunters do it when they’re stalking prey so that they don’t stand out against the rocks.”

  Lionpaw recalled seeing Tribe cats with mud-covered fur. He’d just assumed that they hadn’t bothered to groom. Now he could see the advantages. Gingerly he lowered himself into a muddy hollow and rolled over and over until the brown mud covered his golden fur.

  Hearing a snort of laughter, he looked up to see Breezepaw standing over him. “You’ll have fun licking that off,” the WindClan apprentice sniggered.

  “So will you!” Before Breezepaw could react, Lionpaw leaped up and bowled him over, dragging him down into the mud with him. Breezepaw let out a startled yowl, scrambling to get out, but Lionpaw wrestled with him until his pelt was just as thoroughly mud-soaked.

  “Stupid furball!” Breezepaw spat, hauling himself onto a nearby rock and surveying his filthy fur with a disgusted look.

  Pebble was watching both of them, her tail curled up in amusement. “Fair’s fair,” she meowed. “You teach us Clan ways, and now you’re learning Tribe ways.”

  Lionpaw clambered out of the hollow and shook himself. He hated the smell of the mud and the way it stuck his fur together, but he had to admit Pebble had been right. The muddy covering did keep the wind out.

  “Okay,” he muttered. “Let’s keep going.”

  Talon jumped across the stream and led the way up the slope beyond. Lionpaw had only just begun to climb when he heard a yowl from somewhere above and looked up to see cat shapes outlined against the sky. Briefly he froze, expecting intruders. Then mingled Clan and Tribe scents reached him and he recognized Crowfeather’s patrol.

  “Great!” he exclaimed. “That’s the whole border marked.”

  The two groups of cats met on top of the ridge. Crowfeather reported an encounter with a couple of intruders, who had slunk rapidly away when they realized they were outnumbered. Otherwise they had set their scent markers with no trouble.

  “Then let’s return to the cave,” Stoneteller meowed.

  To Lionpaw’s relief, Talon led them back by a much quicker route. The rain eased off on the way, and when they reached the pool by the waterfall Hollypaw was in the middle of a training session with the to-bes who had stayed behind.

  “Lionpaw!” She paused in the middle of demonstrating a fighting move, her green eyes wide with astonishment. “I hardly recognized you. You look just like a Tribe cat!”

  Lionpaw shrugged uncomfortably, still hating the feeling of the mud on his fur. “I can’t wait to get it off.”

  “Why? Doesn’t it work?”

  “Yes, it works fine,” Lionpaw replied, “but it’s yucky.”

  Hollypaw rolled her eyes. “Your golden fur really stands out against the rocks,” she pointed out. “You’ll catch much more prey the way you are now.”

  “I suppose so.” Lionpaw sighed. He wished he was back in the forest, where his pelt blended with the dappled sunlight through the leaves.

  The other cats had taken the path behind the waterfall, back into the cave. Only Brambleclaw was left, poised on the rocks above the pool. “Come on!” He beckoned the younger cats with his tail. “Stoneteller is going to call a meeting.”

  Lionpaw sprang up the rocks to follow him, with Hollypaw and the Tribe to-bes close behind. Wavering scarlet light from the setting sun outside shone into the cave like rivulets of blood. Lionpaw shivered, almost imagining that he could feel a sticky tide washing around his paws.

  Stoneteller was seated on a boulder at the far end of the cave, near the passage that led to the Cave of Pointed Stones. The Tribe cats and the Clan cats mingled together, gathering around him; Lionpaw spotted Jaypaw with Squirrelflight. He and Hollypaw joined Breezepaw and the Tribe to-bes.
br />   “Cats of Tribe and Clan,” Stoneteller began. “Our borders have been marked. It remains to be seen whether the intruders will respect them.”

  Lionpaw could tell that Stoneteller didn’t believe that the border would make any difference, and there were doubtful murmurs from the Tribe cats.

  A skinny white she-cat spoke up. “Those mangepelts don’t respect anything.”

  “Cloud With Storm in Belly.” Stoneteller dipped his head toward her. “I fear your seasons of wisdom speak true.”

  “Then what do we do now?” Night meowed, her forepaws working nervously on the cave floor. “Has all this been for nothing?”

  “No.” Brambleclaw rose to his paws and spoke commandingly, his head and tail held high. Lionpaw’s pelt felt warm with pride that this noble cat was his father. “But the job’s not finished yet. Now we must go to the intruders and tell them to stay on their own side of the border.”

  “And you think they’ll listen?” Cloud asked scornfully.

  “I don’t know,” Brambleclaw replied. “But they should be given the chance. We will seek out their camp under truce and ask to speak to their leader.”

  “Truce!” Screech, sitting between Lionpaw and Pebble, let out a snort of contempt. “He’s beetle-brained if he thinks the trespassers will honor a truce.”

  “They might,” Hollypaw mewed. “Back home, there’s a truce every moon among the Clans.”

  When Screech didn’t look convinced, Lionpaw added, “Yes, StarClan would be angry if any cat fought during the full moon.”

  Pebble blinked, more curious than disbelieving. “Do you think these trespassers know about StarClan? Or the Tribe of Endless Hunting?”

  Lionpaw exchanged a glance with his sister, seeing his own confusion reflected in her green eyes. Did the intruders share tongues with the spirits of their ancestors like the Tribe and the Clans?

  “I don’t know,” Hollypaw replied. “But it’s got to be worth a try.”

  While they were talking, the discussion had continued among the full-grown cats. Suddenly Stoneteller signaled with his tail for silence. “Enough! We will try Brambleclaw’s plan. He and I will choose the cats to seek out the intruders tomorrow. But if the plan fails, then…” His voice trailed off, and he bowed his head. Lionpaw had to strain to hear his last few words. “If it fails, then the Tribe can no longer make its home in these mountains.”

  The milky light of dawn was in the sky as Lionpaw emerged from behind the waterfall. Dew misted the rocks and dripped from the leaves of bushes around the pool, but the heavy cloud cover of the day before was gone. He wondered if that was a good omen.

  His paws tingled with a mixture of fear and excitement as the rest of the patrol left the cave and sprang down to cluster together by the pool. All the Clan cats were there except for Squirrelflight and Jaypaw; from the Tribe, Stoneteller had chosen Crag, Night, and Talon, and Pebble and Splash from the to-bes.

  “I never thought we’d be chosen,” Pebble mewed, bouncing on her paws. “Do you think we’ll have to fight?”

  “I hope not,” Hollypaw replied. “If we do, remember those moves I taught you. You should be fine.”

  Brambleclaw called his cats together with a wave of his tail. “We’ll head for the pool where we met the trespassers,” he announced. “We should be able to pick up their trail from there.”

  “Good luck!” Squirrelflight’s voice called.

  Lionpaw turned. His mother had appeared from the cave and was crouching on a boulder beside the sheet of thundering water. Her flame-colored pelt glowed in the strengthening light.

  “Thanks,” Brambleclaw replied. “Keep an eye on things while we’re away.”

  Squirrelflight’s ears flicked up. “I will, don’t worry.”

  So that’s why she’s staying, Lionpaw thought. Just in case the intruders come visiting while all these cats are gone.

  The journey across the new territory to the pool didn’t seem as far today. Lionpaw realized that his muscles were getting used to clambering up and down rocks, and even his pads were tougher.

  “There’s intruder scent,” Tawnypelt meowed when they arrived. “But it’s stale. I don’t think they’ve been this way since the day we saw them.”

  “They went that way.” Crowfeather angled his ears toward the boulders that led to the narrow cleft in the rock. “Maybe they were taking prey back to their camp.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Brambleclaw agreed, leading the way between the boulders and into the gap.

  Lionpaw kept tasting the air as he followed, but the intruder scent was hard to follow, mingled with their own scent from the previous patrols. It grew stronger as they passed the place where they had fought the young cats, then seemed to fade away altogether by the time they reached the head of the valley.

  “Mouse dung,” Tawnypelt muttered. “Don’t say we’ve lost them.”

  Every cat stood silent, tasting the air, then cast about over the rocks for any trace of the elusive scent. Lionpaw’s belly growled as he detected the scent of mouse, and he had to remind himself sharply that they weren’t hunting now. But there was no sign of the trespassers.

  “Over here!” Lionpaw turned to see Hollypaw waving her tail urgently from beneath a huge, jutting boulder. “I think they went this way.”

  Brambleclaw padded up and drew in a long breath of air. “You’re right.” He touched his nose to his daughter’s ear. “That was well scented. You’d better take the lead.”

  Hollypaw’s eyes glowed with pride. She led the way beneath the overhang and up a slope so steep it was hard to find a paw hold. At the top she paused for a few heartbeats, then began to pick her way down the other side. Lionpaw’s feet skidded as loose rock shifted beneath them. He hoped Hollypaw was right; he had lost all scent of the intruders.

  “Your sister’s great, isn’t she?” Pebble murmured, catching up to him. “I don’t think even our prey-hunters could follow this scent.”

  “She’s the best,” Lionpaw meowed proudly. “Back home, she always brings back the most prey.”

  At the foot of the slope the scent grew stronger again. Lionpaw could detect traces of many cats, and his pelt prickled. They must be getting close to the trespassers’ camp!

  The trail crossed a dried-up watercourse, then led to a narrow cleft between two sheer rocks that tilted together so that they almost touched at the top. The gap led back into darkness; the intruders’ scent was overpowering.

  “I think this is it,” Brambleclaw murmured.

  “Do we go in?” Crag asked.

  “No. We’ve got no idea how many cats we’d be facing. Besides, we’d just be asking them to attack us if we set paw in their camp uninvited. We’ll wait.”

  The cats spread out into a loose semicircle. Lionpaw saw Tawnypelt staring at the cleft with as much concentration as if she were waiting for a mouse to come out of its hole. Crowfeather looked nervous, his ears flattened as he cast glances over his shoulder, keeping watch behind. Stormfur and Brook sat close together, quietly murmuring, while Crag paced restlessly back and forth.

  Lionpaw padded over to Hollypaw until his pelt brushed hers. “Well done. You found it.”

  Hollypaw’s whiskers twitched. “Let’s hope they’ll talk to us now that we’re here.”

  Suddenly there was movement inside the cleft. A cat’s head poked out; Lionpaw recognized the young tortoiseshell he had encountered twice before. Her eyes stretched wide in horror when she saw the waiting cats, and she darted back at once into the shadow of the cleft. Lionpaw heard a panic-stricken yowling as she withdrew.

  “It shouldn’t be long now,” Brambleclaw commented.

  Every heartbeat felt like a season. Then Lionpaw spotted a pale pelt inside the cleft. Stripes, the silver-furred tom they had met when they first reached the mountains, stepped out of the cleft and faced Brambleclaw.

  More of the trespassers crept out behind him. Lionpaw recognized Flora, the brown-and-white she-cat, and Flick, the skinny brown tom who h
ad been with Stripes. The black tom was there, too, who had led the hunting patrol they met by the pool. They all looked thin, and some of them were limping. Lionpaw could tell that they weren’t finding mountain life easy. But he couldn’t ignore the glow of determination in their eyes.

  “What do you want?” Stripes demanded.

  Brambleclaw glanced at Crag, flicking his ears for the Tribe cat to speak.

  “We need to talk to you,” Crag meowed. “We want an end to this conflict. The mountains are big enough to support every cat, but we need to divide up the territory so that we all have an equal chance at prey.”

  He paused as if he expected Stripes to comment, but the silver tom just jerked his head and muttered, “Go on.”

  “The Tribe has marked borders closing in our territory,” Crag explained. “Our scent will show you where they are. You are free to hunt in the rest of the mountains, but not to cross those borders. We—”

  Outraged yowling drowned him out. The trespassers’ fur was bristling and their eyes blazed with anger.

  Stripes took a pace forward until he was barely a tail-length away from Crag. “You have no right to any part of the mountains,” he growled. “You have no right to set borders. Any cat can take prey from where it likes.”

  “That’s not fair!” Tawnypelt protested. “Can’t you see, we’re trying to—”

  “This is about life or death,” Stripes interrupted. His claws slid out. “If necessary, our life and your death.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Horror slashed through Hollypaw like the claws of fighting cats. “They haven’t any code at all!” she gasped, turning to her brother. “Even the Tribe understands about duty and being fair. These cats just don’t care!”

  Her muscles tensed, ready to leap into battle. The patrol had come in peace, wanting only to talk, but now it looked as if the truce would be shattered. StarClan, help us, she prayed, not even knowing if StarClan could hear her under these strange skies. Show us what to do.

  Beckoning with her tail, she gathered the Tribe to-bes close to her. Lionpaw and Breezepaw flanked them on either side.