Outcast

Chapter 16

Hollypaw turned to stare at her mother. “You know this kittypet?”

Squirrelflight’s eyes were bright. “We met him on our first journey,” she explained. “He helped us find the way to the sun-drown-place.”

Tawnypelt sprang up from where she had been sleeping in the shelter of the bramble thicket. “Hey, Purdy!” she called, bounding across the grass to touch noses with the old tabby.

“How’s the prey running?”

Stormfur padded up after her. “Greetings, Purdy. I’m glad that StarClan has joined our paths again.”

“A friend o’ mine told me there were strange cats in the woods, an’ I reckoned they might be you,” the old tom meowed. “But where’s the rest of you? Where’s that scrawny young apprentice who was always arguin’?”

“Here.” Crowfeather stalked up to stand with the others.

“Are you going to let him talk to you like that?” Breezepaw demanded, gazing at the tabby tom with undisguised hostility. “I could rip his fur off with one paw.”

Crowfeather’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand, Breezepaw. Purdy was part of our journey. That’s important.”

Breezepaw gave a disdainful sniff.

“Crowfeather’s a warrior now,” Brambleclaw mewed hurriedly. Hollypaw guessed he was trying to distract Purdy from Breezepaw’s rudeness.

“So am I,” Squirrelflight added. “My warrior name is Squirrelflight.”

“Well I never!” Purdy’s amber eyes gleamed. “But there were six of you,” he added, glancing from side to side.

“Where’s the silver cat—Feathersomethin’?”

“She died,” Crowfeather rasped, before any other cat could speak.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Purdy’s tail drooped, but after a couple of heartbeats his eyes grew bright again. “I never thought I’d see Clan cats again, an’ now here you all are.”

“We’re not all Clan cats,” Stormfur pointed out. He waved his tail, beckoning Brook and the other Tribe cats to come closer. “This is Brook, and this is Night and Talon. They all come from the mountains.”

“Wha’?” Purdy’s neck fur bristled. “So there really are cats livin’ in the mountains?” He inspected the three Tribe cats with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were just a tale queens told their kits to stop ’em from strayin’.”

“No, we’re real, all right,” Talon mewed.

“So I see.” Purdy gave his chest fur a couple of licks, casting sidelong glances at the mountain cats as if he expected them to leap on him with claws out and teeth bared.

“And these are my kits.” Squirrelflight swept her tail around Hollypaw, Lionpaw, and Jaypaw, urging them closer to the old tabby. “Mine and Brambleclaw’s.”

“Kits!” Purdy’s whiskers quivered in surprise. “And you hardly more’n kits yourselves. Come here, young ’uns, and let me look at you.”

“This is my son, Breezepaw,” Crowfeather added, shoving Breezepaw up with the others.

The three littermates padded up to Purdy. As Hollypaw dipped her head politely she caught a whiff of his sour breath and had to make an effort not to flinch away.

“He’s way old!” Breezepaw muttered into her ear. “Older than any of our elders. Why isn’t he dead yet?”

“Shut up, stupid furball,” Hollypaw whispered. “Kittypets get looked after by their Twolegs. They don’t have to catch their own food.”

Purdy said nothing, but he flicked up one ragged ear, and Hollypaw knew he had heard Breezepaw’s comment.

“I bet this old mangepelt couldn’t catch a mouse if he tried from now to leaf-bare,” Breezepaw scoffed.

Purdy looked at him. “You’re right, I don’t catch prey no more. I get my food from Upwalkers. But I reckon just this once I might try eatin’ ill-mannered kits.”

“I’m not a—” Breezepaw began indignantly, only to clamp his jaws shut as his father lashed out a paw at his ear—a hard blow, though with his claws sheathed.

“Don’t listen to Breezepaw,” Jaypaw mewed to the old tom. “Every cat knows he’s mouse-brained.”

A purr rumbled in Purdy’s chest. “Don’t worry, young ’un.

I’ve met more nuisancy young cats than you’ve had rabbits.”

He lowered his head to inspect the three littermates.

Close up, he looked as if he hadn’t groomed his pelt in seasons. Hollypaw spotted a tick on the side of his neck and a few fleas hopping among the matted fur and tangled burrs.

Yuck, fleas! I don’t want any of them hopping onto me, thanks.

In a Clan, apprentices would groom the elders’ fur and get rid of ticks and fleas. Maybe Purdy wasn’t as well looked after as Clan cats after all.

“So what are you doin’ here?” Purdy asked, when he had given Hollypaw and her littermates a good sniff. “Not off to the sun-drown-place again?”

“Not this time,” Brambleclaw replied. “We’re going to the mountains. The Tribe cats need our help.”

Purdy’s eyes stretched wide with alarm. “That’s no place for cats!” he protested. “Are you tellin’ me you haven’t found a better place than that to live?”

“We’ve found a great place,” Squirrelflight assured him.

“It’s beside a lake,” Tawnypelt added. “There’s enough territory for all four Clans and not much trouble from Twolegs.”

“Then why don’t you stay there?” Purdy asked.

“We’ll be going back, but right now the Tribe cats need us,” Brambleclaw meowed.

Hollypaw missed Purdy’s reply as Lionpaw hissed into her ear, “Why don’t we get going? This kittypet is holding us all up.”

“I guess he’s an old friend,” Hollypaw meowed, though privately she agreed with Lionpaw. Cats in the mountains could be dying while the rescue party stood here meowing about old times.

To her relief, Brambleclaw dipped his head to the old cat.

“We’d better be going. It’s been great seeing you again, Purdy.”

“No need to say good-bye just yet,” Purdy meowed. “I reckon I’ll come with you.”

Hollypaw saw her own dismay reflected in the faces of the Tribe cats. Night muttered something urgently into Talon’s ear.

“Brambleclaw—” Talon began.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brambleclaw told Purdy; Hollypaw couldn’t understand the regret in her father’s amber eyes. “It’s a tough journey, and there’ll be fighting at the end of it.”

Purdy fluffed out his pelt. “You sayin’ I can’t fight? Too old and fat, is that it?” Before any of the other cats could reply, he broke into a rusty mrrow of laughter. “Mebbe you’re right, but I can come with you as far as the woods.” He waved his tail at the trees on the opposite side of the valley. “I know a thing or two that might help you.”

“Mouse dung!” Breezepaw muttered, loud enough for Purdy to hear him. “Now we’re stuck with the stupid mangepelt.”

Purdy just flicked his tail and turned his back on the WindClan apprentice, padding beside Brambleclaw to the edge of the trees and down the hillside. Squirrelflight bounded forward to join them on Purdy’s other side.

Hollypaw didn’t like Breezepaw’s rudeness, but she found herself agreeing with him. This old cat was bound to slow them down, when every moment counted.

“Brambleclaw and the others have been here before,” she murmured to Lionpaw. “What can Purdy tell them that they don’t already know?”

Lionpaw shrugged. “Like Breezepaw says, we’re stuck with him.”

As they headed into the valley, Hollypaw could hear Purdy rambling on about the Twolegplace that she could see in the distance.

“Remember those rats?” he asked.

“Will I ever forget?” Tawnypelt growled. “I thought I’d die of that bite.” She swiped her tongue around her jaws and added with satisfaction, “The rat that gave it to me didn’t have long to regret it.”

A purr rumbled deep inside Purdy’s chest. “Well, they’re not there no more. Upwalkers came and put up a nest there and cleared out all the rats.”

“Good!” Tawnypelt’s tail lashed.

“And that open space where the monsters were sleepin’…”

Hollypaw stopped listening. They weren’t going anywhere near the Twolegplace, so why did Purdy need to tell them about it? Her paws itched to race down into the valley, but she was forced to match her pace with Purdy’s slow amble.

“Why is Brambleclaw doing this?” she muttered. “The Tribe of Rushing Water could be wiped out while we’re hanging around here.”

“The Tribe cats feel the same,” Jaypaw mewed. “Talon’s boiling under his fur.”

Hollypaw didn’t need her brother’s perceptiveness to tell her that. Brook just looked unhappy, but Night and Talon were whispering fiercely together, their neck fur bristling. If Brambleclaw didn’t pick up the pace soon, there would be a quarrel.

The sun rose above the trees and Hollypaw was grateful for the cool grass brushing against her flanks. Bees buzzed among the clover while birds swooped and cried in the clear blue sky. A little way ahead, a cluster of grayish-white animals cropped the grass.

“Look—sheep.” Breezepaw pointed to them with a flick of his tail. “That means there must be a Twoleg farm near here.”

“We know,” Hollypaw retorted. She wasn’t going to be friendly with Breezepaw, even if she did agree with him about Purdy. “We’ve seen sheep before, thanks.”

“In WindClan—” Breezepaw began in superior tones.

“There’s something else,” Lionpaw interrupted. “Another animal scent, but I’ve never smelled it before.”

Hollypaw halted to taste the air. Lionpaw was right; apart from the cats around her, the sheep, and a distant trace of dog, she picked up something different. She couldn’t see anything, but her paws prickled with apprehension.

Brambleclaw led the way around the flank of a hill, and the valley opened up below them. At the bottom of the slope was a cluster of Twoleg nests, surrounded by a fence. The strange scent grew stronger; Hollypaw felt her pelt begin to bristle as she spotted where it was coming from. Between the nests and the journeying cats was a group of big black-and-white animals.

They had feet like pointed stones and long tails that swished through the air with a reedy hiss.

“What are those?” Lionpaw asked, and for once Breezepaw had no reply.

“They’re huge,” Hollypaw meowed, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. “And they’re looking at us. Do you think they’re going to attack?”

She was poised to flee when she heard Purdy’s rusty laughter. “Don’t you worry none,” he rasped. “They’re only cows.”

“It’s okay.” Squirrelflight glanced over her shoulder.

“We’ve seen cows before. They won’t do you any harm so long as you stay away from their huge feet.”

Even so, Hollypaw was relieved that Brambleclaw circled around to stay well away from the cows as they padded down-hill, and happier still when the unfamiliar creatures were left behind.

“I can smell mice,” Lionpaw announced as they drew near the Twoleg nests. He raced to catch up to Brambleclaw and ask, “Can we stop and hunt? I’m starving.”

Hollypaw’s jaws flooded as she picked up the tempting scent. It seemed to be coming from the two biggest nests, set a little way away from the others. She scampered forward to join her littermate. “Please, Brambleclaw. I’m hungry, too.”

Brambleclaw hesitated, and it was Purdy who replied.

“You don’t want nothin’ to do wi’ that place, young ’uns. It’s dangerous. Can’t you smell dogs as well as mice?”

Brambleclaw nodded. “I can. Thanks, Purdy. We’ll carry on until we find somewhere a bit safer.”

Lionpaw let out a hiss of annoyance. “I’m not scared of dogs,” he muttered.

“Neither am I,” Breezepaw agreed. “We see them all the time on WindClan territory. They’re not dangerous if you know how to deal with them.”

“The Twolegs probably keep the stupid things shut up anyway,” added Lionpaw. “Purdy’s just making a fuss about nothing.”

“Yeah,” meowed Breezepaw. “He’s only a kittypet, so he’s bound to be scared.”

Toms! Hollypaw thought, shaking her head as she listened to her brother and the WindClan apprentice, on the same side for once. They went on muttering together as Brambleclaw led them into the shadow of a hedge.

Hollypaw kept her ears pricked for the sound of prey. She thought she spotted movement in the thickest part of the hedge, but when she turned to look more closely a hawthorn branch snagged her fur and the small creature, whatever it was, vanished. Spitting crossly, she stopped to give her shoulder a quick groom, and spotted Lionpaw and Breezepaw, their bellies flat to the ground, creeping away in the direction of the farm.

“Hey!” she called. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Lionpaw signaled to her with his tail. “Quiet, for StarClan’s sake!”

Hollypaw cast a glance at the others; they had drawn ahead by a few fox-lengths, and no cat had heard anything. Jaypaw was walking between Stormfur and Brook and hadn’t noticed the others leave.

Hollypaw darted over to her brother and Breezepaw.

“Where are you going?”

“Keep your fur on,” Lionpaw hissed. “We’re just going back to the farm. Every cat’s going so slowly that we can catch a few mice and be back before they miss us.”

“Come on,” Breezepaw urged, nudging Lionpaw’s shoulder. “I can taste those mice now.”

“Are you mouse-brained?” Hollypaw demanded. “What if you get left behind? We ought to stay together.”

“We won’t get left behind,” Lionpaw mewed.

“That cat’s only a kittypet and an elder,” Breezepaw put in.

“He’s probably never caught a mouse in his life. Why should he tell us what to do?”

“Brambleclaw told us what to do,” Hollypaw pointed out.

“He’ll have your tails for fresh-kill if he catches you.”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t catch us.” Lionpaw’s amber eyes glowed with a strange light. A shiver ran through Hollypaw from her ears to her tail tip. She didn’t want to let her brother go off in this mood, especially with Breezepaw, who’d already shown he couldn’t be trusted in a crisis. But she knew that she couldn’t stop him, unless she told the senior warriors what he was planning.

“Okay,” she meowed. “I’m coming with you.”

Breezepaw glared at her. “No cat invited you.”

“Let her come.” Lionpaw rested the tip of his tail on Hollypaw’s shoulder. “Three will be better than two when we’re searching for prey. And Hollypaw is one of the best hunters in the Clan. She’s nearly as good as Sandstorm!”

“Okay, then,” Breezepaw meowed ungraciously.

Hollypaw cast another glance up the line of the hedge.

The other cats had disappeared, though their scent told her they weren’t far away.

“Come on,” Lionpaw whispered.

He spun around and raced across a stretch of open ground toward the Twoleg fence. Hollypaw and Breezepaw followed, the grass brushing their belly fur and their tails streaming out. Hollypaw pricked her ears for yowls of anger behind them, but all was quiet.

The fence was made of the same shiny stuff as the fence around the horseplace. Lionpaw flattened himself to the ground and wriggled underneath the lowest strand, springing to his paws as soon as he reached the other side.

“Hurry up!” he urged.

Hollypaw wriggled underneath, feeling the shiny fence-stuff scrape against her back, and remembering her mother’s story of getting stuck on a fence like this during her first journey. Her paws tingled with the fear that she would get stuck too.

Then she was safely through, and Breezepaw was scrabbling under the fence after her. Lionpaw was already racing down a narrow gap between the Twoleg nests. Water flooded Hollypaw’s mouth again at the overwhelming scent of mice.

Following her brother, she halted briefly at the edge of another open space, this one covered with stone.

Opposite where the three apprentices were standing was one of the big Twoleg nests. Across the entrance was a wooden barrier that stood slightly ajar; inside, the nest was dark. Lionpaw glanced around. Although Hollypaw could scent both dogs and Twolegs, there was no sign of either.

“Get on with it!” Breezepaw muttered.

Lionpaw signaled with his tail, and the three young cats bounded across the open space and slipped through the gap into the nest.

Once inside, Hollypaw stood still, panting from exertion and fear, until her eyes got used to the dim light. The walls of the nest were made of rough stone. Light angled in from the entrance and from a few narrow gaps high in the walls. Dust motes danced golden in the greenish rays, but the rest of the nest lay in shadow. The scent of mouse was stronger still, but Hollypaw was too edgy to hunt. She turned and looked back the way they had come.

Behind her she heard the scamper of paws, and a thin shriek that cut off abruptly.

“First kill!” Breezepaw declared with glee. Hollypaw glanced back to see him crouched over the body of a plump mouse.

Lionpaw had dropped into the hunter’s crouch, his haunches waggling from side to side and his eyes fixed on something in the shadows. Hollypaw bit back a gasp as she made out the shape of an enormous rat. It was nearly as big as Lionpaw.

Lionpaw pounced; there was a brief flurry of movement and a squeal from the rat that broke off a heartbeat later as Lionpaw bit down hard on its neck. He stood over his prey, his eyes glowing with pride.

“Brilliant catch!” Hollypaw exclaimed.

“Not bad,” Breezepaw mumbled around a mouthful of mouse.

Lionpaw started dragging his prey by its tail into the center of the nest. “Come and share,” he invited Hollypaw. “I can’t possibly eat all this by myself.”

“Thanks, I—” Hollypaw broke off at the sound of movement from outside and a sudden sharp scent.

For a couple of heartbeats she stared, frozen, at the gap leading out into the open. She couldn’t see anything, but she heard snuffling at the bottom of the wooden barrier, the thud of heavy paws, and a low-pitched growling.

Breezepaw’s eyes stretched wide. “Dogs!”