Outcast

by Erin Hunter

  Anticipation shivered through Lionpaw from ears to tail tip. Every paw step was bringing him closer to his first real battle. He longed with every hair on his pelt to make his father and his Clan proud of him. Yet he wasn’t just fighting for his Clan and the warrior code. He was fighting for the Tribe, too, alongside Tribe cats who had become his friends. Their enemies had become his enemies, because the intruders had shown that they had no code of honor; they couldn’t admit the justice of dividing the mountains into separate territories.

  A few tail-lengths away he spotted Breezepaw. The WindClan apprentice was ready for battle too, with bristling fur and his lips already drawn back in a fierce snarl. He was padding just behind Crowfeather, yet his father didn’t offer him any encouragement. Lionpaw felt a pang of sympathy. Maybe Breezepaw wouldn’t be such an annoying furball if he had Brambleclaw for a father instead of Crowfeather.

  A shadow drifted over the rocks and Lionpaw looked up to see a cloud covering the moon. A chill crept through him, as though his pads had touched ice. Did that mean that StarClan was angry because they were breaking the full moon truce? But StarClan doesn’t walk these skies, he remembered. Jaypaw had warned them that they would be alone. Besides, a moment later the cloud had drifted away and the moon shone brightly again. Sometimes a cloud is just a cloud.

  The moon floated high in the sky by the time the battle-hungry cats reached the intruders’ camp. Everything was quiet. Lionpaw gazed at the narrow cleft between the tilted rocks, but he could make out nothing in the darkness inside.

  “I can’t see any sign of guards,” Hollypaw whispered.

  “They probably don’t think they need them,” Lionpaw murmured. “After all, Tribe cats are too weak to give any trouble, right?”

  Hollypaw’s green eyes gleamed with amusement. “We’ll see about that!”

  Brambleclaw gathered the cats around him with a gesture of his tail and led them into the shadow of a rock. “Crag and I will divide you into attacking patrols,” he mewed. “Tribe and Clan, apprentices and to-bes, in each group. That way we’ll have the best spread of skills. The plan is to lure the trespassers out here and then attack them, otherwise we’ll be fighting in the dark on enemy ground.”

  Lionpaw glanced again at the dark cleft and then back at Brambleclaw. “That can’t be right,” he objected.

  Brambleclaw cocked his head. “No?”

  “No, because the cleft can’t be totally dark. Their dens are in there—they can’t be stumbling around blind, can they?”

  Brambleclaw narrowed his eyes. “You’re right. There must be a shaft that lets in light and air.”

  “We should go look for it!” Lionpaw’s pads were tingling with excitement.

  His father thought for a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay. We shouldn’t attack without knowing exactly what we’re up against. If there’s another entrance, they might be able to get out that way and attack us from behind.” He angled his ears toward the rocks. “Let’s go. Hollypaw, Breezepaw, you come too.”

  “And me!” Pebble sprang up. “I know rocks,” she added. “I might be able to help.”

  “Come on, then,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Crag, you start dividing up the patrols. And every cat keep as quiet as if you were stalking prey. This attack will start when we’re ready and not before.”

  Cautiously the five cats crept across the open ground in front of the cleft and onto a narrow trail that led upward beside one of the tilted rocks. Lionpaw was poised to spring into battle if there was any movement from the cleft, but it remained dark and silent.

  The tilted rocks were set against a boulder-strewn slope leading to a ridge. The trail wound between the boulders until it emerged at the top, close to where the two rocks joined. Lionpaw crept toward them, his belly fur brushing the ground.

  “Breezepaw, keep watch below,” Brambleclaw whispered. “Tell me if there’s any sign of the intruders.”

  Looking pleased to be singled out, Breezepaw wriggled forward on his belly until he could overlook the ground at the bottom of the slope. Brambleclaw and the apprentices spread out, examining the area around the tilted rocks.

  Lionpaw sniffed around the boulders piled along the ridge. There was a strong scent of cat, the scent he was beginning to recognize as the intruders’. But he couldn’t see where it was coming from. Then he spotted a gap between two rocks; the scent was especially strong there.

  “I think I’ve found something!” he called softly.

  Brambleclaw, Hollypaw, and Pebble joined him, brushing against his flanks. Thrusting his head into the gap, Lionpaw saw a shaft leading down through the rock. At the very bottom was a circle of sand, with the shadow of his own head outlined on it in moonlight. There was no sign of cats, but the scent was stronger still.

  “Let me look,” Pebble mewed impatiently.

  Lionpaw stepped back to let the Tribe to-be into the gap. She stared down for a few heartbeats, then raised her head, her blue eyes glittering. “They’ll never be able to get out this way. But I could climb down.”

  “Yes!” Lionpaw wanted to bounce up and down like an excited kit. “We could all go. We could chase the cats out into the open where our warriors are waiting.”

  Brambleclaw shook his head. “Not a chance. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Hollypaw butted his shoulder with her head. “They won’t be expecting us. They’ll be too scared to do anything but run.”

  “Then I’ll go,” Brambleclaw countered.

  Lionpaw let out a small mrrow of laughter. “Think you would get those shoulders through that hole? This is a job for small cats. Hey, Breezepaw!”

  He beckoned the WindClan apprentice over and explained the plan. Breezepaw swallowed nervously. “I’m in.”

  “I haven’t said you’re going yet,” Brambleclaw pointed out. “It’s a good plan, but you could fall and break your necks. Not to mention what the intruders might do to you.”

  “I won’t fall,” Pebble meowed confidently. “And the others won’t, either, if they’re careful. There are plenty of cracks to dig your claws into,” she explained, “and you need to make sure your paw hold is safe before you move. It’s easy as eating prey.”

  For you, maybe, Lionpaw thought. But he wasn’t going to back out now. “We’ve got to do it,” he argued. “It could make all the difference to the battle and the Tribe.”

  Brambleclaw sighed. “You’re right. And you’re apprentices, not kits to be protected in the nursery. Very well, you can do it.”

  Lionpaw gazed into Hollypaw’s glowing eyes and hoped that he looked as certain.

  “I’ll go down and tell the others,” Brambleclaw went on. “Wait until you see me down there. Then go; we’ll be ready and waiting.”

  His amber gaze rested for a heartbeat on Lionpaw, then Hollypaw, before he turned and vanished down the trail.

  Breezepaw took up his lookout post again while Pebble quickly repeated her instructions about climbing down. “And don’t look down,” she finished. “If you get dizzy, you’ll fall.”

  Breezepaw crept back. “He’s there.”

  “Then let’s go,” mewed Lionpaw.

  “I’ll go first.” Pebble was already turning to lower her hindquarters into the hole. “Watch what I do.”

  There wasn’t much room for all three remaining apprentices to gather around and watch Pebble. Despite Breezepaw’s ear in the way, Lionpaw managed to spot how she crept cautiously down, testing each paw hold before she put her weight on it.

  “I’m going next,” he murmured. “She shouldn’t be on her own down there.”

  Hollypaw and Breezepaw moved back to give him room. As he slid backward through the gap, Lionpaw had a moment’s panic that he was too big to fit. His shoulders scraped the rocky sides of the hole, but then he was through, clinging with all four sets of claws to the inside of the shaft. Below him he heard Pebble mew softly, “That’s fine. Take it slowly.”

  Remembering what she had said about not looking dow
n, Lionpaw edged his way cautiously down the shaft, digging his claws deep into the cracks. Once the stone crumbled under his weight and he slipped, gasping with terror as he scrabbled against the rock face in a frantic search for another paw hold. When he found it, he had to rest for a few moments, his heart pounding at his rib cage so loudly that he thought it must wake every cat from here to the lake.

  He heard Breezepaw’s annoyed whisper just above him. “Are you going to hang there all night?”

  Lionpaw gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to let the WindClan apprentice see that he was scared. He searched for the next paw hold to take him down safely. Sooner than he expected, Pebble’s voice came softly from just below him.

  “You can let go now.”

  Lionpaw tensed and pushed himself off the rock face to land on his paws on the sand a couple of tail-lengths below. Breezepaw thudded down beside him a moment later with Hollypaw just behind.

  “Brilliant!” Pebble’s eyes shone in the moonlight. “Now what?”

  Lionpaw shook the grit out of his pelt and looked around. A passage led off from the sandy area where they stood, curving so he couldn’t see what lay beyond the first few paw steps. The intruders’ scent was overwhelming.

  “Wait here,” he whispered.

  With paw steps as light as if he were stalking a mouse, Lionpaw crept up to the corner and peered around. Beyond the curve in the passage he saw a wider space, covered with sand, with moss piled along both walls. He could just make out the pricked ears of a cat lying in the moss and hear the squeaking of very young kits. Tasting the air, he detected the milky scent of a nursing queen. From farther down the passage came the sound of movement and murmuring voices, the noise of many cats settling down for the night.

  Stealthily he drew back toward his companions. “There’s a nursery just here,” he reported in a low voice. “We don’t touch the queens or the kits, okay? The other cats are farther down, nearer to the entrance. I don’t think they know we’re here.”

  “So what do we do?” Hollypaw asked.

  “We don’t want to fight in here, just scare them out, so we dash through, yowling like a whole bunch of badgers is after us.”

  Pebble looked confused. “What?”

  Breezepaw rolled his eyes. “Big, scary animals with teeth.”

  “Try not to get trapped in here.” Lionpaw crouched, tensing his muscles to spring. “Okay—go!”

  He leaped forward, letting out an earsplitting screech. His companions sprang with him, yowling like a whole Clan of fighting cats. Wails of alarm answered them from the cats down the passage. Lionpaw caught a glimpse of a ginger-and-white queen cowering against the rock wall with her kits huddled against her belly. He swept past and into the middle of the intruders’ den.

  The trespassing cats were blundering about, caterwauling in shock and terror as they scrambled for the entrance. Lionpaw was prepared to fight, but no cat tried to stop him as he bounded across the den. The narrow cleft that led outside was jammed with the writhing bodies of cats desperately trying to get through. Lionpaw spun around with the wall at his back, claws unsheathed, but the nearest cat, a rangy ginger tom, gave him a single horrified glance, then thrust himself into the cleft to escape. Within heartbeats the den was empty of all but the four apprentices.

  Hollypaw let out a last fearsome screech and halted, panting. “It worked!”

  The yowls of fighting cats came through the cleft; Brambleclaw was leading his warriors into battle outside. Lionpaw took a long breath and tasted blood on the air. “Come on!” he urged.

  The way out of the den was clear now. Lionpaw hurled himself through the cleft and into the open. The wide space in front of the rocks seethed with knots of tussling cats as Tribe and Clan clashed with the intruders. Moonlight shone on mingled tabby, ginger, and white fur and glinted on sharp teeth and claws. Shrieks of pain and fury split the night.

  Lionpaw’s ears pricked as he thought he heard a whisper behind him. “Lionpaw—now!” His head whipped around. Had he really heard Tigerstar? There was no dark tabby shape in the shadows, no gleam of amber eyes, but the call to battle was compelling.

  Just in front of him, the brown intruder Flick had Screech pinned to the ground while he raked his claws through the to-be’s belly fur. Yowling in fury, Lionpaw leaped on top of him, biting down hard on his neck. Squalling in pain and shock, Flick reared up in an attempt to throw him off. Screech wriggled free and vanished into the darkness.

  Lionpaw lost his balance but succeeded in pulling Flick down on top of him and battered at the intruder’s belly with his hind paws. Brown fur flew out and he caught the hot reek of blood. He lunged for Flick’s throat. Flick raked one paw across his ear and managed to stagger to his paws. Lionpaw let him go.

  For a heartbeat he stood panting, looking for his next opponent, and he thought the whisper came again. “Lionpaw—look behind you!” He whipped around to confront a huge gray tom, whose pale pelt was already running with blood. Lionpaw just had time to dodge to one side, raking the intruder’s pelt as he slipped past him.

  Scrambling onto a boulder, he surveyed the moon-washed battle and caught a glimpse of Hollypaw and Pebble, fighting side by side, thrusting their way through the press of cats to where Brambleclaw and Stripes fought together, rolling over and over in a screeching tangle of fur and claws. He spotted Squirrelflight, too, leaping forward to chase a black tom around the curve of a boulder and out of sight. Her ginger tail streamed out behind her and her teeth were bared in a snarl of fury.

  Just below Lionpaw, Gray was struggling with a black-and-white she-cat, his paws flailing as he tried to dislodge her teeth from his shoulder. He looked as if he was rapidly tiring.

  Lionpaw let out an exultant yowl as he dropped onto the trespasser’s shoulders, digging in his claws in the move he had practiced with Ashfur back in the forest. The she-cat released Gray and instantly rolled over, crushing Lionpaw beneath her bulk. The breath driven out of him, his nose buried in her fur, he fought to breathe and convulsed with pain as he felt her teeth meet in his ear. Think! The whisper came again, and this time Lionpaw could picture Hawkfrost’s ice-blue eyes.

  He let every limb go limp. The she-cat relaxed her grip, and at once Lionpaw heaved upward, tearing his ear free and throwing her back onto the stony ground. She clambered to her paws and crouched to leap at him. He braced himself to meet her attack.

  Suddenly Lionpaw spotted Hollypaw and Breezepaw dashing toward him. They split up, racing up on either side of the she-cat. The trespasser leaped, claws extended. Lionpaw dived beneath her belly and felt his fur ruffled as she overshot and landed just where Hollypaw and Breezepaw were waiting to slash her flanks with their claws. The she-cat wailed and fled.

  “Great!” Lionpaw gasped, springing up again. “They must teach that move in WindClan, too!”

  Battling cats were already separating him from the other two apprentices. He hurled himself into the fight again. He could hear the blood pounding inside him; he felt as if he had the strength of twenty cats. He felt alive, more than ever before. As one cat after another fled from his raking claws he knew this was what he had been born for.

  There came a moment when no other cat leaped to confront him. Lionpaw spun around like a kit chasing its tail. Where are you? Come out and fight!

  “Lionpaw.” No mysterious whisper now; the steady voice was his father’s. “Lionpaw, stop. It’s over.”

  Lionpaw halted, staring at Brambleclaw, his teeth bared. “It’s not over,” he hissed. “Not until every last intruder has been defeated.”

  “Calm down, Lionpaw,” Brambleclaw meowed. “They are defeated. We’ve won.”

  Lionpaw’s first reaction was disappointment. No more of that wonderful coordination of muscles, teeth, and claws? No more of the light of fear in his opponents’ eyes as they fled? He took several deep breaths and looked around. Cats of Clan and Tribe were watching him, impressed—and maybe scared? Why? What have I done?

  “You fought well, Li
onpaw,” Crag told him quietly. “Your skill and courage will be remembered as long as the Tribe exists.”

  Lionpaw looked down at himself and saw his fur clumped together with drying blood. He felt hot and sticky, and his stomach heaved at the stench of it. He staggered; then Hollypaw was at his side, her green eyes horrified.

  “Where are you hurt?” she asked anxiously.

  Lionpaw shook his head in confusion. The only pain he felt was from his bitten ear, and in his paws, which had been sore for days from scrambling over rock. “I’m okay,” he mumbled.

  Before Hollypaw could say any more, a few of the trespassers crept timidly out from among the rocks. Stripes was in the lead. He had lost most of the fur from one shoulder and his muzzle was bleeding. He limped up to Crag and Brambleclaw and dipped his head.

  “You have won,” he rasped. “We will respect your borders from now on, if only you leave our queens and kits alone.”

  Crag and Brambleclaw glanced at each other, as if they were considering what the silver tom had said. Part of Lionpaw wanted to yowl, No! Drive them out! But he kept silent.

  “The Tribe has no quarrel with queens or kits,” Crag meowed at last. “We will leave you in peace so long as you stay on your own side of the border.”

  Stripes dipped his head again and waved his tail to lead his battered companions back through the cleft into their camp.

  Lionpaw watched them go. Had Tigerstar and Hawkfrost really fought beside him in the battle? Or did their shadows stalk the woods beside the lake, waiting for his return? There were no voices now, no praise for the way he had fought, nothing but Hollypaw trying to check him for wounds.

  “Lie down and rest,” she begged. “Do you want me to fetch Jaypaw? I’ll get him here somehow.”

  “I’m okay,” Lionpaw insisted. “I don’t need help.”

  Brambleclaw was rounding up his warriors, Clan and Tribe, ready for the journey back to the cave. Lionpaw joined them, falling in beside Breezepaw and Pebble, trying to ignore Hollypaw’s fussing as she padded along on his other side, clearly expecting him to collapse at any moment.