Outcast

by Erin Hunter

  “Come on,” he muttered. “What’s the matter with you?” For once he didn’t want to enter the others’ dreams. He wanted a dream of his own: to wake underneath the hill, in the tunnels where he had met Rock and Fallen Leaves. If he didn’t manage it now, it would be a whole moon before he had another chance to visit the Moonpool.

  He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, but he could still feel the damp rock under his paws and hear the sound of the waterfall and the breathing of the cats around him. Stretching his jaws in a yawn, he opened his eyes again. His fur prickled with excitement as he realized that he could see.

  Instantly his ears twitched in frustration. He wasn’t in the underground cave. Instead, he had never left the Moonpool. He could see the curled-up bodies of his companions and reflected starlight glimmering in the water.

  “Now what?” he demanded.

  A quiet voice spoke behind him. “You wanted to speak with me?”

  Jaypaw spun around, almost tripping over his own paws. Rock stood in front of him. His long, twisted claws scraped on the bare rock. Here in the open, out of the shadows of his cave, his bare skin looked raw and painful, and his bulging eyes glowed silver in his disfigured face. With an unexpected quiver of fear, Jaypaw wondered if Rock could see him or if he only sensed his presence.

  “Why did you stop talking to me?” Jaypaw asked. “I tried and tried, but you wouldn’t answer.”

  Rock dismissed the question with a flick of his ratlike tail. “I’m here now,” he rasped. “Say what you have to say.”

  “Are you part of StarClan?”

  Rock blinked. “No. I share tongues with the ones who came before.”

  “You mean the cats like Fallen Leaves, who went into the tunnels to prove themselves?”

  “No.” Rock’s voice grated like shifting stones. “More ancient even than those.”

  “Then where did they come from?” Jaypaw meowed, exasperated. “Is there a set of ancestors who are older than all the others? Did we all come from them—Fallen Leaves’s cats, and the Tribe cats, and the Clans?”

  Rock turned his silver gaze on Jaypaw. “There will always be stories older than any cat remembers,” he rumbled.

  That’s not an answer! “Then where did you come from?”

  The old cat stood silent for many heartbeats, staring out across the Moonpool as if he could look back across the abyss of time that separated Jaypaw from those ancient cats.

  “You will find your answers in the mountains,” he murmured at last. “Though they may not be the ones you most want to hear.”

  “What do you mean? Tell me now!” Jaypaw insisted.

  But Rock was beginning to fade. The patches of reflected moonlight on his skin, the silver gleam of his bulging eyes, thinned out like mist until Jaypaw could see nothing but the shimmer of starlight on rock and water. He shivered in a sudden cold breeze.

  “Come back!” he yowled.

  There was no reply. The starshine faded, and scents of tree and bracken filled his mouth. He was standing in a dusky forest, in the midst of fern and grasses. Moonlight dappled the ground as it shone through gaps in the branches above his head. The air was warm, full of the tempting scents of prey.

  Just ahead of him, Leafpool was following a narrow path that wound between clumps of bracken. She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “I wondered if you’d join me,” she mewed.

  Jaypaw was about to reply when the bushes just ahead of Leafpool rustled and a group of StarClan cats burst out into the open. Jaypaw spotted prey scurrying away from their claws.

  A blue-furred she-cat halted briefly to mew, “Greetings, Leafpool.” Leafpool dipped her head, but the she-cat bounded onward before she could speak. Another cat, a powerful white tom, gave Jaypaw a friendly flick over the ear with his tail as he sped past.

  Most of the StarClan warriors were intent on their prey. Their eyes were bright with delight in the hunt; their pelts gleamed and their muscles rippled in the moonlight. Jaypaw watched as each cat pounced on its prey and turned to race away with the limp body dangling from its jaws. He supposed they were taking it to some starry fresh-kill pile.

  Leafpool padded up to him and touched her nose to his shoulder. “You see the silver tabby over there?” She pointed with her tail to where a beautiful she-cat was leaping to catch a plump vole. “That’s Feathertail. She was Stormfur’s sister. She died in the mountains.”

  Jaypaw gazed curiously at the cat, wondering if she knew anything about the mountain cats’ ancestors.

  “Can we talk to her?”

  “She might not wait for us,” Leafpool replied. “She’ll want to take her prey back to the StarClan camp.”

  “I want to ask her—” Jaypaw broke off as Feathertail bounded away. But she didn’t follow the other StarClan cats; she headed in a different direction, where the trees and bushes were thicker. “Where is she going?”

  “I don’t know.” Leafpool looked troubled. “Feathertail, wait!”

  She set off after the silver tabby, and Jaypaw raced along at her side. They plunged through dense undergrowth and came out into a clearing. A stream ran through it, and on the other side the trees gave way to rocky slopes covered in stunted bushes.

  “Feathertail!” Leafpool called again.

  The she-cat paused on the bank of the stream and looked over her shoulder at them.

  “Where are you going?” Leafpool panted, dashing up to her.

  Feathertail set down her vole. “This fresh-kill is not for StarClan,” she explained. “I bear a responsibility to other cats, ones who still need the help of the Clans, even though many moons have passed.”

  Other cats?

  Leafpool touched her nose to Feathertail’s ear. “Are you talking about the Tribe of Rushing Water? Haven’t you done enough for them? You gave your life to save them from Sharptooth!”

  “A shared past counts for a lot,” Feathertail replied, her blue eyes glowing with emotion. “Even if it was brief.”

  She pressed her muzzle against Leafpool’s, then picked up her prey, leaped lightly across the stream, and was swallowed up in the shadows under the bushes.

  Mouse dung! Jaypaw thought. I never got to ask her anything.

  Letting out a faint sigh, Leafpool headed back into the trees. As Jaypaw followed her, he picked up a silver glimmer in the corner of his eye. Glancing around, he spotted Rock, crouched under a bush. The ancient cat’s sightless eyes gazed straight at him; then he heaved himself to his paws and padded off in the direction Feathertail had taken.

  Jaypaw shivered. Somehow, StarClan, the ancient cats, and the Tribe of Rushing Water all seemed to be merging to shape the destiny of the cats by the lake. It made sense to Jaypaw. To have the power of the stars in his paws, he would need to have power over all the ancestors, past and present. Shadows pressed around him as he plunged into the undergrowth again. The lush forest scents faded away, and he felt rock beneath his paws. He could hear the gentle splash of the waterfall and knew he was crouching once again beside the Moonpool. He opened his eyes on darkness.

  Around him he could hear the other cats waking from their dreams. They said little, and Leafpool didn’t speak to him at all as they climbed the spiral path and set off across the moorland, back toward the lake. Jaypaw could feel her anxiety like a swarm of stinging insects.

  He waited impatiently for the other cats to say their good-byes and head off toward their own territories. As soon as he and Leafpool were alone, he demanded, “What do you think your dream meant? Are you going to tell Firestar?”

  Leafpool hesitated, and when she spoke her voice was troubled. “It sounds as if the Tribe of Rushing Water is in some sort of trouble,” she replied. “I’m not sure whether I should tell Firestar. Whatever’s happening, it doesn’t seem as if ThunderClan cats will be affected.”

  Jaypaw twitched his tail in frustration. How could he discover his destiny if his mentor was going to pretend she never had the dream? “What about Stormfur and Brook? If there’s
something wrong in the mountains, they should be told.”

  “I don’t know.” Her mew was soft and uncertain. “You could be right. Yes, perhaps I should tell Firestar. But ThunderClan isn’t involved, so I don’t think he’ll do anything.”

  ThunderClan might be more involved than Leafpool realized, Jaypaw thought, as he followed his mentor along the border stream toward the camp.

  At least I’m involved!

  He bared his teeth as if he were about to snap up a juicy piece of prey. There was only one way to discover the truth about his power. Somehow, he would have to find a way to go to the mountains.

  CHAPTER 6

  Poppypaw dived forward; Lionpaw could see she was trying to use the move he had taught her in their earlier training session, the one Tigerstar had shown him. But when she tried to hook out Honeypaw’s legs from under her, Honeypaw was too fast. Leaping backward, she met Poppypaw head-on and delivered two blows to her nose before darting away.

  “You’ll need to be quicker than that,” Berrynose meowed.

  Lionpaw bristled. Firestar had released the two young warriors from their apprentice duties, but didn’t Berrynose have anything better to do than interfere in the training session? He was sprawled on a rock at the edge of the clearing, making loud comments on the apprentices’ performance.

  “That was very good,” he remarked condescendingly to Honeypaw. “Your moves are coming along nicely.”

  “Thanks, Berrynose!” Honeypaw blinked adoringly at the cream-colored warrior.

  Lionpaw stifled a twinge of jealousy. Not long ago, Honeypaw had seemed to like him best. It was hard to lose her admiration so soon after he had been forced to give up his friendship with Heatherpaw.

  “Your turn, Lionpaw!” Berrynose broke into his thoughts. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Who made you my mentor? Lionpaw glanced around the clearing for Ashfur, who should have been in charge of the training session, but he was several fox-lengths away, demonstrating a move to Hollypaw.

  “Come on, you lazy lump,” Berrynose urged him. “You’ll never get to be a warrior sitting on your tail all day.”

  No? Lionpaw gritted his teeth. If I looked at you, I’d think that’s all warriors do!

  “Come on, Cinderpaw,” he meowed, beckoning with his tail to the gray apprentice who sat at the side of the clearing. “Let’s practice.”

  Cinderpaw bounced up to him, her fur bristling with eagerness and her tail fluffed out. She was moving confidently, Lionpaw thought, as if the leg she had injured felt fine. As she approached, she aimed a blow at his ear with sheathed claws. He dodged to one side and tried to unbalance her by butting his head into her shoulder, but Cinderpaw stayed on her feet and wrapped her forepaws around his neck, thrusting him to the ground. Lionpaw battered at her belly with his hind paws. After a few heartbeats Cinderpaw let go and sprang away from him, waiting for him to get up again.

  “That was great!” he panted. He knew he would have won eventually.

  Cinderpaw was glowing with pride that she was getting her fighting skill back again. “Let’s try again!”

  “You know, Lionpaw, you got that move all wrong,” Berrynose interrupted. “You should never have let her knock you over. If that had been a real fight, she could have bitten your throat out.”

  Lionpaw spun around to face him; hot fury flooded through him from ears to tail tip. “I suppose you found that out when you were fighting ShadowClan,” he taunted.

  Berrynose sprang off the rock, his ears flattened and his neck fur standing on end. “Don’t talk to a warrior like that!” he spat.

  “Then stop being such a know-it-all!” Lionpaw retorted. “You’re not my mentor, so stay out of my fur.”

  For two mouse tails he would have hurled himself at Berrynose and raked his claws across the cream warrior’s muzzle. But he knew he would be in big trouble if he attacked a Clanmate for real, not as part of a training bout. Turning his back on Berrynose, he stormed off to the side of the clearing, where he stood with his flanks heaving, trying to control the waves of rage that surged through him.

  “Just wait till I’m a warrior,” he vowed under his breath. “Then I’ll show you who’s best at fighting.”

  “Take it easy, Lionpaw.” The calm voice felt like a draft of cool water. At first Lionpaw thought it must be Tigerstar, and he looked around for the shadowy tabby figure. Instead, he spotted Stormfur sunning himself in a quiet patch of sunlight at the foot of an oak tree.

  Awkwardly Lionpaw dipped his head to him. “Sorry,” he mewed. “But I can’t stand it when Berrynose acts like he’s Clan leader.”

  Stormfur let out a sympathetic murmur.

  “I know I shouldn’t let him get to me, but I can’t help it,” Lionpaw confessed. “Sometimes it’s the other apprentices too. Well, not Hollypaw, but the rest of them. I feel like I have to be the best all the time.”

  Part of him was horrified that he’d blurted all that out to a senior warrior. There was no reason for Stormfur to care about his problems.

  “Why?” the gray-furred tom asked.

  “I don’t know why!” Lionpaw hesitated, thoughts battering his mind like a storm, then added, “I suppose I do know, really. It’s because I’m Firestar’s kin. There’s never been a leader like him, and every cat will expect me to be just as good because I’m related to him.”

  “And Tigerstar?” Stormfur prompted.

  Lionpaw dug his claws into the ground. How could Stormfur possibly know about his meetings with Tigerstar and Hawkfrost? “T-Tigerstar?” he gulped.

  Stormfur blinked at him. “I know what problems your father had. Brambleclaw was always afraid the Clan would never trust him, because they hated Tigerstar so much.”

  Lionpaw had never thought of that before. It was hard to imagine his father as a young cat, uncertain of his place in the Clan.

  “What was my father like?” he asked, padding up to Stormfur and sitting beside him in the comforting splash of sunlight. The fur on his shoulders began to lie flat again; he had almost forgotten the quarrel with Berrynose. “What was it like when you went on the quest together?”

  “Terrifying.” Memory glowed in Stormfur’s amber eyes, fear and courage, humor and friendship, all at once. “I don’t know what was harder—traveling through unfamiliar, dangerous territory, or trying to get along with cats from other Clans. We all came back changed.” He paused to rasp his tongue over his shoulder, and then went on. “At first we seemed to argue all the time. But it was usually your father who had the best ideas, and pretty soon we realized that he was the natural leader among us.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Lionpaw prompted.

  “Four cats, one in each Clan, had a dream telling them to go to the sun-drown-place,” Stormfur began. “They were supposed to listen to what midnight told them. None of us realized that Midnight was a badger.”

  Lionpaw nodded; he and his littermates had never met the badger who helped the Clans find their new home, but his mother had told them stories about her.

  “It must have been really hard,” Lionpaw mewed, trying to imagine getting along with cats from other Clans. Okay, he’d been friendly with Heatherpaw, but suppose he’d had to cooperate with Breezepaw or warriors from ShadowClan?

  “It wasn’t all bad,” Stormfur replied. His tail curled in amusement. “There was the time your mother got stuck in a Twoleg fence. She was spitting with fury, and she couldn’t move!”

  Lionpaw let out a little mrrow of laughter, imagining Squirrelflight stuck and furious. “Did my father rescue her?”

  Stormfur shook his head. “No. Brambleclaw was thinking about digging up the fence post, and I thought we might bite through the shiny fence stuff. Meanwhile Tawnypelt and Feathertail smoothed down your mother’s fur with some dock leaves and got her out that way.”

  “I wish I’d been there,” Lionpaw mewed.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it. Even though we were scared a lot of the time, or tired, or hungry, we all kn
ew we were doing our best to help our Clans.”

  “And you became really good friends with my father.”

  Stormfur twitched his whiskers. “We weren’t all that friendly to begin with. I was jealous of Brambleclaw.”

  “Why?” Lionpaw asked, surprised.

  “Because I liked your mother too much. But a blind rabbit could have seen that Brambleclaw was the cat she liked best, even though they spent most of their time arguing.”

  “You liked Squirrelflight?” Lionpaw blinked in astonishment. Suppose Stormfur had been his father instead of Brambleclaw? I would have been a different cat….

  “I’d never met a cat like her,” Stormfur admitted. “So bright and brave and determined, even though she was only an apprentice then. But then we stayed with the Tribe in the mountains, and when I met Brook I knew that she was the right cat for me.”

  His amber eyes clouded and he fell silent. Lionpaw couldn’t understand why he should look like that, when he’d been talking about finding Brook. “What’s the matter?”

  Stormfur let out a long sigh. “My sister, Feathertail, was with us on the journey,” he explained. “She was a beautiful, warm-hearted cat. She died in the mountains.”

  Lionpaw dared to reach out with his tail and rest it on the gray warrior’s shoulder. “What happened?”

  “The Tribe was being hunted by a mountain lion. There was a prophecy that a silver cat would come to save them. At first they thought it was me, but it was Feathertail. She died saving them.” His voice shook. “I had to leave her there, buried in the mountains.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lionpaw mewed, trying to imagine what he would feel like if Hollypaw died.

  Stormfur licked his chest fur a few times and jerked his head as if he was shaking off a fly. “Moons pass, and you have to carry on.”

  “I hope you didn’t mind my asking.”

  “Of course not.” Stormfur sounded more like himself again. “You can ask me anything you like. If I can help at all, I’ll be glad to.”

  “Thanks.” Lionpaw felt as warm and comforted as if he’d just eaten a plump piece of fresh-kill. “It’s easier talking to you than to a ThunderClan cat—oh, sorry.” He broke off, scuffling his paws with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—”