“What do you mean, the Twolegs took Percy?” Stick spat, scraping his claws on the hard stone of the Twoleg alley.
Snowy’s ears were laid flat to her head with horror and distress. “He couldn’t run fast enough. They just grabbed him!” she wailed.
“I’m sorry!” Shorty panted, bounding up with Coal to join Cora and Snowy. “There wasn’t anything we could do to stop them.”
Coal’s neck fur was bristling and he drew his lips back in a snarl. “This means war!” he declared.
Cora nodded. “It’s mouse-brained to think that we can live alongside Twolegs. They’re our enemies!”
Stick narrowed his eyes. “It’s not the Twolegs,” he growled. “This is all Dodge’s fault.”
“What do you mean?” Shorty meowed.
Stick told them about the time he had come upon Skipper and Misha torturing the rabbit in the Twoleg garden. A shudder ran through him as he remembered his dream, his paws clogged with blood and fur. “The Twolegs won’t let cats attack their rabbits. I think Dodge arranged this so the Twolegs would drive us out.”
“But aren’t we going to fight for our home?” Coal hissed, his claws rasping against the smooth gray stones that lined the alley.
“Of course we are,” Stick retorted. “But not against the Twolegs. Dodge and his cats are the ones we have to fight.”
“I’ll rip their fur off,” Coal snarled. “I’ll—hey!” he mewed, breaking off. “Where’s Red? Did the Twolegs take her as well?”
“Red’s fine,” Stick growled. “She got away.” Before his friends could ask any more questions, he went on, “So how can we attack Dodge and his cats? Any ideas?”
The others looked at one another.
“It would be easier if we knew where they sleep,” Shorty commented.
“But we don’t,” Cora meowed.
Stick realized how clever Dodge had been. He had taken over the hunting grounds that Stick and his friends had thought of as their own, but he had given nothing away. The crow-food-eating mangebag has always stayed one step ahead. “Then find them!” he snapped.
“Do you want to wait until Red comes back?” Cora asked.
“No!” Stick wasn’t sure that she was coming back. “We don’t need her.”
His friends exchanged uneasy looks before heading off in different directions.
“No, I’ll go that way,” Stick ordered Snowy, shouldering the white she-cat away from the direction Red had taken. “You climb the wall and search behind the Twoleg nests.”
“Okay.” Snowy was obviously surprised, but she leaped the wall without arguing and disappeared down the other side.
Shame flooded over Stick as he retraced his steps toward the place where he had confronted Red. He couldn’t tell the others that his daughter had betrayed them all. She must have told Harley where we slept, and helped Dodge plan the Twoleg raid.
Reaching the shed where he had confronted Red and Harley, he picked up his daughter’s scent and followed it around the next corner. Her scent mingled closely with Harley’s, he noticed with disgust. Scrambling over a low, sloping roof, Stick dropped down into the next alley. He had barely begun following the scent-trail again when he heard paw steps thundering up behind him.
Stick froze, then spun around to see Shorty bounding along the alley.
“I can’t let you go off on your own,” the brown tom panted as he halted in front of Stick. “It’s madness!”
“I’m fine,” Stick growled. “And you make so much noise, you couldn’t creep up on a fox with no ears.”
Whipping around, he carried on up the alley, only to realize that Shorty was keeping pace with him. “I told you, I’m fine!”
Shorty halted again, his amber eyes fixed on Stick. “I’ve known you too long, old friend,” he meowed. “What’s wrong?”
Stick couldn’t hold his gaze. “It’s Red,” he muttered, turning his head away. “I… I think she betrayed us to Dodge.”
Though he wasn’t looking at Shorty, he heard his friend’s gasp of horror. “I don’t believe it!” Shorty protested. “Red would never do that.”
“Well, maybe she would. Her mother didn’t show much loyalty, did she?”
There was a furious hiss from Shorty. “You know exactly why Velvet did what she did. Red may have her mother’s pride and stubbornness, but she gets that from her father as well!” More gently, he added, “You’ve always been proud that your daughter knows her own mind.”
“I’m not sure if she does know her own mind anymore,” Stick muttered. “She always—”
He broke off as he spotted a whisk of movement underneath a straggling bush a few fox-lengths away, its roots sinking down into the gap left by a broken paving stone. Bounding up to the bush, Stick paused for a heartbeat to check the scent. Enemy! He plunged through the twisted branches and sank his teeth into the scruff of a black-and-silver she-cat who was crouching in a gap between the branches and the wall.
“One of Dodge’s lot,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fur as he dragged her into the open.
He let the she-cat go, but kept her pinned down with a paw slammed onto her neck. “What’s your name?” he snarled.
The she-cat looked too shocked to struggle. “I—I’m called Onion,” she stammered.
“Hey, don’t be too harsh,” Shorty protested, padding up to join them.
Stick ignored him. He slid out his claws until he felt their tips pricking into Onion’s skin through her pelt. “Tell me where Dodge is!”
Onion opened her jaws to speak, but only choking sounds came out. Stick realized that he was squashing her neck. He raised his paw a fraction, but as soon as the pressure eased, Onion reared up, trying to throw him off. Stick flung himself on top of her and crushed her under his weight. He pushed his face close to hers; fierce satisfaction rushed through him when he saw the fear in her green eyes. He raised one paw, ready to slice his claws through her neck.
“Stick, no!” Shorty pushed Stick’s raised paw aside. “What are you doing? You can’t kill her!”
“Yes, I can!” Stick spat. “But I won’t. You, mange-pelt, tell me where Dodge is.”
The she-cat’s breath came fast and shallow with terror; underneath his paw, Stick could feel the frantic beating of her heart.
“He’s by the stream,” she gabbled out. “Behind the Twoleg nests. He sleeps in some old boxes… Let me go, please!”
A red mist of fury swirled through Stick’s mind. He flexed his claws, yearning to slice them through Onion’s flesh.
“Stick!” Shorty’s voice cut through his anger. “She’s told us what we need to know. Now let her go.”
There was a grim note in his friend’s voice that Stick couldn’t ignore. Gradually the mist faded. He sheathed his claws and rose to his paws, releasing Onion, who fled down the alley with her tail streaming behind her. Once she had disappeared, Stick turned and headed in the direction of the stream.
“Stick, wait!” Shorty planted himself in front of his friend. “What are you going to do? You can’t attack on your own.”
Stick breathed deeply. He knew that he was a whisker away from hurling himself on his friend with his claws outstretched if the brown tom didn’t get out of his way.
“Has this become personal?” Shorty pressed, his gaze steady. “Is it about Red?” When Stick didn’t reply, he went on, “Dodge can’t steal Red away, you know. She’s not helpless, and she wouldn’t stand for it.”
“I know that,” Stick growled. If she’s joined Dodge, it’s because she wants to.
“Then this might be a battle you can’t win,” Shorty warned. “Focus on what’s really at stake here: our safety and our right to hunt.”
“You’re right. We’ll collect the others, and come back to fight.”
Shorty blinked. “What, even if that means fighting Red?”
“So be it,” Stick responded grimly.
Shorty gaped at him. “You don’t mean that.” Stick didn’t reply, and after a few heartbeats, Shorty went on, “I think you should go talk to Velvet. She might know what Red’s doing, and she might be able to change her mind before it’s too late.”
Stick stared at his friend. “Velvet is dead to me.”
“No, she’s not.” Shorty faced up to his friend with more courage than Stick had expected. “She never has been, and she never will be. You think of her every time you look at Red.” He took a pace forward so that he and Stick were nose to nose. “She’s your daughter’s mother, Stick. Go to her; ask her for help. She might be your only chance to save Red.”