Tallstar’s Revenge

Chapter 27

Talltail scrambled into the ditch beside the Thunderpath as a monster roared past. Flattening his ears, he waited for a gap. Sparrow was somewhere on the other side and he was going to track him down. That heartless rogue was going to pay for destroying his life.

As soon as the roar of monsters quieted down, Talltail hurtled across the flat, black stone. He scrambled through the hedge on the far side, its brown leaves rattling as he scraped between the gnarled branches and burst into the open field. Which way would the rogues have gone? Through stinging eyes, Talltail scanned the landscape. A muddy field stretched ahead of him, bordered on each side by brown hedges. Overhead a buzzard wheeled, its wings outstretched to catch the wind. Talltail crept along the side of the field, keeping close to the hedge as the ground sloped upward. A wide, muddy track formed the far edge of the field, uneven and specked with stones. Ditches ran on either side and Talltail hesitated, wondering whether to keep to the hedge and trek through the long, damp grass, or leap the ditch and follow the stony track.

Instinct kept him near the hedge, but the grass dragged at his fur, soaking him until he was chilled to the bone. Nettles grew thickly among the roots of the hedge, shriveled and browned by leaf-bare but still vicious enough to sting his nose. When he got sick of trying to avoid them, Talltail backtracked, leaped the ditch, and padded warily along the open track, his heart pounding.

Every scent was new, every noise strange: a far-off whine; a distant crack; the banging of wood against wood. Talltail’s sodden pelt began to spike. Had Sparrow walked this way? Talltail lifted his chin. Sparrow would never have let fear slow his paws. He would have walked the path as though he owned it. The arrogant tom acted like every territory was his own. Talltail flexed his claws. It was time someone taught him a lesson.

He glanced at the sky. The sun was sliding toward Highstones. Was this the way he’d come when he visited Mothermouth? He tasted the air, trying to recognize scents. A sharp Thunderpath scent bathed his tongue. His ears pricked as a low rumbling sounded nearby. Talltail froze. Something huge was growling, moving closer fast.

A huge monster lurched around the corner and bounded along the track toward him. Its round, black paws were huge, each as big as a regular monster. A Twoleg sat scowling on top, swaying and jerking as the monster bounced beneath him.

Talltail’s pelt bushed up. He leaped for the edge of the path and plunged into the ditch. He tumbled to the bottom, gasping with cold as he dropped into stagnant water. The monster growled past and bumped away along the track. Trembling, Talltail dragged himself out of the ditch. His pelt was rank with green slime, and dripping wet. He shook it, queasy at the thought of washing the putrid stench out. Angry with himself for being caught off-guard by the monster, he slunk along the hedgeside, ears pricked and mouth open, tasting for danger with every breath. The grass clung wetly to his fur and he was shivering violently by the time the hedge dwindled, leaving long strands of spiked, silver vines in its place to mark the edge of the field.

Talltail sniffed the vines. There was no scent of earth or wood to them. They ran long and barbed between wooden stalks. Beyond the row of stalks, a path of smooth, white stone stretched to a wooden wall that loomed up, taller than a tree. Eager to get clear of the soggy grass, Talltail ducked beneath the lowest vine and padded onto the white stone. The clearing was wide and square, walled by stone on either side.

Had he seen this place from Outlook Rock? He opened his mouth and let scent wash his tongue. The jumble of unfamiliar smells confused him. Pelt pricking, he pictured the view from the moor. This must be the small cluster of Twoleg dens that sat between the Thunderpath and Highstones, sheltering among the curving fields like chicks in a nest. He realized that the tall, wooden wall was part of a huge den. He remembered its roof, wide and square, towering beside a cluster of small stone dens. Lights had shone from the smaller dens and smoke had plumed from their roofs. But no light or smoke had ever flashed from the great wooden nest. Talltail sniffed it and smelled the warm scent of prey. Did Twolegs store fresh-kill there?

Keeping low, Talltail crept toward it, belly growling at the thought of an easy meal. He scanned the wall, searching for gaps in the wood. A dog barked. Talltail stiffened. The barking grew louder and sharpened into an excited yelp. He spun around to see two black-and-white dogs clear a low stone wall that surrounded one of the smaller dens and hurtle toward him. Their eyes blazed with excitement.

Talltail ran. His paws skidded on the smooth stone and he stretched out his claws, fighting to get a grip. Jaws snapped at his tail and he shot forward, heart bursting with terror. The wooden wall loomed ahead. He veered around, heading for the corner. A stone wall blocked his way. He leaped it, landing smoothly on the other side. Grass crowded the wooden wall here. Talltail plunged through it, searching desperately for a gap in the wood to squeeze through. Behind him, paws scrambled clumsily over the wall.

Talltail glanced back, relieved to see the dogs land awkwardly, crashing into each other as they fought to take the lead. Paws tangling, it took a moment for them to regain their footing. But they were fast and long-legged. He couldn’t outrun them for long. Their yelping grew louder. Their breath billowed over his haunches.

Run!

Talltail’s mind whirled in terror, but he forced himself to focus, his heart leaping as he spotted a split in the wood. He shot through it, splinters jabbing his pelt, his shoulders almost getting stuck as he forced his way in. Relief swamped him as he heard the dogs howling outside. There was no way they’d squeeze through behind him. He looked around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the shadows inside the den. Pale light spilled through narrow gaps high up the walls. Bundles of dry grass loomed up on every side, bound into blocks and stacked neatly all the way to the roof. The air smelled dry and dusty, like grass in greenleaf.

Behind him the dogs scrabbled, whimpering, at the wood. Talltail spun around, his tail bushed up. A snout poked through the gap, sharp, yellow teeth showing as the dog drew back its lips and growled. With another shove, the rotten wood splintered. A paw reached in, then a shaggy, brown shoulder and a drooling, snarling muzzle.

Talltail fled as the wood split and the dogs exploded into the den, howling with triumph. He hurled himself at one of the grass piles, relieved to find the bundles tightly packed enough to support his weight as he scrambled up the side. He dug in his claws, scooting up like a squirrel. Behind him the dogs yelped and jumped, their breath hot and stinking on his tail. But this was too steep for them to climb with their ungainly paws. They slid back every time they tried to get a grip on the dried grass, landing with a snapping, yowling thud.

Talltail reached the top and peered down. Whining, the dogs paced at the bottom, their eyes blazing with fury. Outside, a Twoleg squeal made them freeze. The dogs looked at each other, glanced balefully at Talltail, then turned and ran, squeezing out through the gap they’d forced open.

Talltail sank onto the bundled grass, dizzy with relief. The ground swam beneath him, so far away he felt like he’d climbed a tree. The top of the grass stack was prickly; stalks jabbed his flank. But it was dry and warm. Mouse scent hung in the air. His belly growled, but hunting would mean climbing down from his safe nest, and the dogs might come back. Shadows swallowed the space beyond the grass stacks, growing deeper as the sun set outside. He might as well rest here for the night. Spiraling around, Talltail smoothed out a place to sleep. He curled into a tight ball and tucked his nose beneath his paws. His breathing slowed.

I made it. He’d left the Clan. He pictured his Clanmates settling down for their twilight feeding time, and waited for a prick of regret. But nothing stirred except the peace of being alone. Purring, his body softened as he drifted into sleep.

Talltail woke with a start, heart racing. Where am I? He blinked, recognizing the bundled grass, pale in the early light. The wooden den. He stretched, scenting mouse, and peered over the edge. No fresh scents of dogs. They hadn’t come back. Scrambling down, he landed lightly on the smooth earthen floor.

No dawn patrol. No hunting duty. Someone else would have to clear the old sheepswool from Flailfoot’s nest. Excitement surged beneath his pelt. He was free to follow his destiny!

Tiny paws scuttled at the edge of his hearing. Talltail braced himself, opening his mouth to taste the air. Mouse scents seeped from every shadowy corner. Stifling a purr of satisfaction, he crept forward. His tail whisked the stray grass stalks that littered the floor. He lifted the tip up, careful to keep quiet. Something moved in the shadows. He fixed his gaze on a flicker of brown fur and moved toward it, drawing himself silently forward, paw by paw. This wasn’t how he was used to hunting, but Talltail knew there was no room to give chase in here. He had to creep up on his prey instead.

He could see the mouse more clearly now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. It had picked up a grass stalk and was nibbling the seeds at the tip. Talltail crept closer, holding his breath. The mouse glanced around, then went back to nibbling. Talltail showed his teeth. Then he leaped. He slammed his paws down onto the soft back of the mouse. It was already dead by the time he reached forward to nip its spine.

Sitting up, he let his purr rumble out loud, then tucked into his meal, savoring the richness of its flesh. Prey tasted different here. There was no flavor of heather and peat. It was fatty and moist and sang on his tongue. And very easy to catch!

A dog barked in the distance. Talltail stiffened. It was time he moved on, easy prey or not. The dogs wouldn’t stay away forever. He swallowed his last mouthful and padded around the base of the grass pile, scanning the wooden wall for the hole the dogs had chased him through. It was much bigger now, jagged-edged and filled with bright light. Tasting the air warily, Talltail stuck out his head. The air was damp, and dripping grass soaked his muzzle. The hard frost had broken, giving way to low, gray clouds. A steady drizzle sprayed Talltail’s face. He fluffed out his fur and padded from the wooden nest, crossing the grass toward another stone wall. The dog barked again, its companion joining in, raising their voices to a howl. They’d come looking for him soon.

Talltail broke into a run and leaped onto the wall in an easy bound. The land on the other side was wooded and sloped steeply up. To one side he could see past the line of trees to the distant Highstones. Would the rogues have gone there? Talltail narrowed his eyes. Why should they? They preferred to eat other cats’ prey. Why would they head for stony, bushless slopes, where the only prey would have to be stalked with more skill than they possessed? Besides, the stones would hurt their paws. They may be used to traveling, but he guessed they only followed the softest paths that they could find.

He looked the other way, spotting a smooth, grass path at the edge of the tree line. That was the sort of route they’d choose. He jumped down and trekked along it, glancing into the shadowy woods. Would they have gone in? The trees would give shelter. He should check it out. The thought made his pelt prick. Even though the tall branches were bare, they still crowded out the sky. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the trees.

He pricked his ears, his heart quickening at the sighing of the wind above. It set the branches rattling, and as he passed a slender ash, he heard it creak ominously. Talltail darted forward, fear flaring. Did trees fall down? Was he going to get crushed? The dark gray sky glowered above, not giving enough light to throw shadows. Instead the trunks of all the trees were swallowed up in gloom, filled with brambles to trip unwary paws and holes to make him stumble.

Talltail’s nose twitched. Rabbit scents hung on the damp air. Birds, too, and other forest prey he’d smelled on trips to Fourtrees. Mole. Shrew. Vole. ThunderClan prey. His prey, too, now. His belly grumbled, but it was too dark to hunt properly. He’d have to wait for some kind of clearing in the trees.

The ground started to slope upward, but Talltail leaped easily up the rise and scrambled onto rocky overhangs until he reached the crest. He was still in the forest, but it was lighter here, the trees spaced farther apart. He breathed the damp air, wondering which way to head. Along the ridge or down the far side? Cat scent touched his tongue. Tom, not from a Clan. His heart lurched. Could it be Sparrow?

Had he found him already? Perhaps this wood was where the rogues holed up for leaf-bare, sheltering like prey beneath the branches. Talltail leaned down and sniffed the ground. Paws had passed this way. He walked slowly forward, muzzle close to the ground. The scent trail headed down the far slope and disappeared beneath brambles. Screwing up his eyes against the thorns, Talltail followed it. He ignored the prickles scraping his spine as he wriggled underneath, and eventually emerged onto boggy ground where his paws sank into cold mud. The scent trail was fresher here. He was gaining ground.

Talltail’s thoughts whirled. Sparrow was at the end of this track. He knew it. He imagined sighting the rogue’s short, brown fur between the trees and creeping silently up behind him. He swallowed back a growl as he pictured plunging his claws deep into Sparrow’s flesh. His pelt spiked with excitement and he hurried forward, darting over the mud as easily as crossing grass. Bracken blocked his path but he pushed through, ears flattening as the stench of tom led him forward. As he weaved through the tawny stems, he spotted movement ahead.

Sparrow! Fur flashed behind a bush. I’ve got you! Triumph surged through his paws. He broke into a run. With a hiss, he skidded around the bush and sprang. He landed a whisker from the tom, snarling. “You thought you’d gotten away—”

He stopped, his eyes bulging with surprise.

A shocked gray tom stared back at him, blinking. “What in the stars are you doing?”

Talltail backed away. “I—I thought you were someone else,” he stammered. He smelled fear-scent on the tom and sheathed his claws. “I wasn’t going to—”

“I hope not!” The tom straightened up and Talltail realized how scrawny he was. His pelt was clumped in sticky knots as though he hardly washed. Was this a kittypet? Talltail knew they were lazy, but too lazy to wash?

The tom glared at him. “Who did you think I was?”

“Just another cat,” Talltail mumbled.

“Not a friend, I guess.”

“Not exactly. Someone I used to know.”

The tom opened his mouth, tasting Talltail’s scent. “You smell of Clan,” he grunted. “Were you looking for one of your own?” Talltail shook his head. “Good.” The tom sat down and whisked his tail over his paws. “One Clan cat is bad enough.” He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing out here?” He snorted. “Don’t answer. I don’t want to know.”

“I’m looking for some rogues. I really need to find them.”

The tom rolled his eyes. “I said don’t answer.” He sighed heavily. “What rogues?”

“They used to visit us every greenleaf,” Talltail told him.

“You’re a moor cat, right?” The tom’s nose was twitching. “I can smell the heather on you.” He glanced between the trees. “I once knew some cats who spent time on the moor.”

“Was one of them brown?” Talltail leaned forward.

“I don’t remember,” the tom answered.

“Did they travel in a group? A black-and-white one, and a ginger one, and a gray tom with a ruffled pelt?” Talltail’s paws pricked.

“Slow down, Clan cat,” the tom muttered. “I’m not used to answering questions.”

Talltail took a breath. This old cat wasn’t going to be rushed. He might not share anything if Talltail annoyed him. “I just wondered if you’d seen them recently,” he meowed.

“Might have.”

Talltail curled his claws into the earth. “This moon? Last moon?”

The tom looked thoughtful. “Last moon,” he grunted eventually. “Near a Nofur’s den.”

“Which den?” Talltail had seen countless Twoleg dens from Outlook Rock.

“Sun-up way. Dark gray,” the tom told him. “Bigger than some. It has a spike sticking up at one end like a tail.”

Talltail frowned, trying to remember if he’d seen a den like that.

“Don’t go inside,” the tom warned. “It’s colder than death and when the Twoleg shuts the door, there’s no way out.” The thought seemed to alarm him. He got to his paws, his tail quivering. “I was trapped there once for three sun-ups. Glad they had a water-pool.”

Talltail’s mind was whirling. Gray den with a spike. He began to head away.

“Where are you going?” the tom called after him. “Do you want to share prey? I hear Clan cats are good hunters.”

Talltail called over his shoulder. “I can’t stop. I have to find this cat.” His heart raced and he broke into a run, swerving clumsily between the trees.

I’m on your trail, Sparrow. You’d better start sleeping with one eye open!