by Erin Hunter
Billystorm shook his head. “I went by his nest on my way here this morning,” he replied. “But everything was shut up and quiet.”
“He’s missing a lot of training,” Sharpclaw commented.
Leafstar wondered if Billystorm would take offense at the veiled criticism, but the ginger-and-white tom just dipped his head in agreement. “I’ll make sure he catches up when he comes back.”
“See that you do,” Sharpclaw mewed.
Petalnose took her patrol toward the trail that led up the cliff. After hesitating for a moment, Leafstar decided to follow. It was a while since she had observed the apprentices in training, but what she really wanted to see was how the full Clan cats and the daylight-warriors worked together after the earlier tension.
When Leafstar reached the top of the cliff, she spotted Petalnose leading the patrol toward the nearest thicket, the apprentices barely visible in the long grass. As Leafstar bounded up to join them, she heard Mintpaw’s voice raised boastfully.
“We really scared that old Twoleg! You should have seen us.”
“And heard us,” Sagepaw added. “We yowled so loud, I’m surprised we didn’t wake you up in your Twoleg nests!”
Leafstar stiffened. Had the apprentices no sense at all, to taunt the daylight-warriors by bragging about the attack? Ebonyclaw’s tail-tip was flicking irritably from side to side; Frecklepaw was looking sulky, and Billystorm opened his jaws to speak, then obviously thought better of it.
“You kittypets missed an awesome patrol!” Mintpaw continued.
Leafstar’s paws itched to intervene, but it was up to the mentors to discipline their apprentices. She was surprised that neither Petalnose nor Waspwhisker said a word. They probably feel the same, she thought, biting back an angry comment.
“This patrol is too big for a successful hunt,” she meowed, padding up to join the others. “Billystorm, why don’t you come with me? Ebonyclaw and Frecklepaw, too.”
“Good idea,” Billystorm responded instantly, with a flash of understanding in his amber eyes.
As he spoke, Leafstar spotted Mintpaw and Sagepaw exchanging a glance, their eyes gleaming. Now what’s their problem? she wondered, but neither apprentice said anything.
Petalnose nodded in reply to Leafstar’s suggestion, and led her remaining patrol farther into the thicket. Leafstar turned the other way, along the top of the cliff in the direction of the Twolegplace. She could feel the relief among the daylight-warriors as they followed her, and she wondered bleakly if her Clanmates would ever learn to work together.
“Right,” she began as they approached a stretch of bushes and thick undergrowth. “What I’d like to try today is working out ways of hunting as a group. We all do better if we cooperate. We—”
She broke off as Echosong emerged from some close-growing stems of fern with a bundle of herbs in her mouth. The medicine cat blinked with barely concealed surprise as she saw Leafstar’s patrol, and padded up to her Clan leader.
“Can I have a word with you?” she meowed, laying her bundle down.
“Of course.” Leafstar glanced at Billystorm. “Take the others into the bushes and see what you can find.”
Billystorm flicked his ears in acknowledgment, and vanished among the undergrowth with Ebonyclaw and Frecklepaw hard on his paws. Leafstar noticed that Frecklepaw glanced regretfully over her shoulder at Echosong as the ferns closed behind her.
“Well?” Leafstar prompted, fully prepared for Echosong to raise the question of an apprentice again.
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” Echosong queried. Leafstar blinked at her in surprise. “I know there was trouble this morning,” the medicine cat went on, “but you won’t solve it by keeping the daylight-warriors separate from the others.”
Leafstar hadn’t noticed Echosong among the cats beside the river that morning, but she obviously knew all about the quarrel. “What else can I do?” she protested. “Wait until they start clawing one another’s ears off?”
“I don’t know,” Echosong admitted. “But splitting the cats up won’t help the tensions in the Clan. In the end, it’ll make them worse.”
Leafstar had a grudging feeling that her Clanmate was right. “Then what’s the answer? I don’t want to turn any cat away, but allowing daylight-warriors—okay, kittypets—into the Clan obviously isn’t working.” She lowered her head, feeling as if dark storm clouds had rolled across the sky to blot out the sun. “I sometimes wonder if Firestar was right to give me the leadership of SkyClan.”
“That’s mouse-brained,” Echosong mewed briskly. “StarClan chose you as our leader, not Firestar. And I know that there’s no cat in the Clan who could do it better. But Leafstar, you—” She broke off.
Leafstar wondered what the young she-cat wasn’t telling her. “Go on,” she prompted. “Say what you want to say.”
Echosong shook her head. “Nothing … nothing, really. Just—Leafstar, be careful of your own feelings, that’s all.”
She picked up her bundle of herbs and padded off toward the top of the trail, leaving her Clan leader staring blankly after her.
Be careful of my own feelings? What did she mean by that?
CHAPTER 23
“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 ha
d 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.”
CHAPTER 24
“Snookpaw!” Leafstar rose to her paws to greet the apprentice as he padded down the trail behind Billystorm. “It’s good to see you again.”
A few sunrises had passed since the raid on the Twoleg nest, but Leafstar was still sharply aware of tension within the Clan. The cats were milling around her now, where she stood at the foot of the Rockpile while Sharpclaw set the patrols. Morning mist still lay over the river, and the air was damp, promising rain later.
“Ebonyclaw, I want you to lead a hunting patrol,” Sharpclaw meowed. “Take Frecklepaw, of course, and … let’s see… Bouncefire and Sparrowpelt.”
Leafstar was agreeably surprised to hear Sharpclaw putting a daylight-warrior at the head of a patrol. Then she wondered whether her deputy had a hidden motive. Sparrowpelt was one of the best hunters in the Clan, and he had been loud in his criticisms of the kittypets. Does Sharpclaw hope Ebonyclaw will fail, and Sparrowpelt will have to take over? Leafstar let her gaze rest on her deputy, his gleaming ginger pelt and sharp green eyes. I know he’s a strong deputy—but I can’t help wondering whether he’s trying to stir things up!
“It’s great to be back,” Snookpaw meowed as he reached the bottom of the trail and padded over to Leafstar. “I’ve really missed the Clan.”
Leafstar dipped her head. “We’ve missed you, too. Are you all right now?”
“I’m fine. I—” Snookpaw broke off to cough, and Leafstar looked at him in alarm. “No, I’m really fine,” he assured her when he had got his breath back. “I can’t wait to start training again. But I can’t stay all day,” he added, stifling another cough. “My housefolk would be really worried.”
His love and respect for his Twolegs shone in his eyes. Leafstar felt a sudden pang, wondering what it would be like to live with housefolk. The Clan cats who accused the daylight-warriors of choosing a life of comfort were wrong. There could be real affection between a kittypet and their Twolegs. Are we wrong to expect them to give that up?
Snookpaw trotted away to join Billystorm, who was waiting for Sharpclaw to give him an assignment. As she watched the patrols beginning to move off, Leafstar’s ears twitched at the sound of excited squeaking. She turned to see Fallowfern’s ki
ts stalking up to Clovertail, who lay dozing on a rock near the stream with one paw lying protectively over her swollen belly.
“That’s a huge Twoleg!” Nettlekit squealed. “We have to scare him off, or he’ll attack the camp.”
“I’m going to be Sharpclaw!” Plumkit announced. “I’ll lead the attack!”
“But I want to be Sharpclaw!” Rabbitkit charged into his sister, pushing her over in a flurry of paws and tail. “Anyway, you’re a she-cat, mouse-brain. You can’t be Sharpclaw.”
“Can too,” Plumkit muttered, then changed her mind with a whisk of her tail. “Okay, I’ll be Cora.”
“And I’ll be Stick!” Creekkit announced. “He’s a great warrior. What about you, Nettlekit?”
“I’m going to be Billystorm,” Nettlekit mewed. “He knows everything about fighting.”
“You can’t be Billystorm.” Plumkit stared scornfully at her brother. “He’s not a real warrior.”
“Yeah, he’s a kittypet,” Rabbitkit agreed with a contemptuous flick of his tail.
“He wasn’t even at the raid,” Creekkit pointed out. “So you can’t be him.”
Leafstar listened in growing alarm. Have the kits forgotten the way Billystorm taught them? Have even the kits picked up this tension between the daylight-warriors and the full Clan cats?
“I don’t care!” Nettlekit defended himself stoutly. “I still want to be Billystorm.”
“Then you can go and be him by yourself,” Plumkit meowed, giving her littermate a push. “You’re not playing with us if you want to be a kittypet.”
She turned her back on Nettlekit and pattered over the rocks toward Rabbitkit and Creekkit, who had crouched down and were starting to creep up on Clovertail once more.
Nettlekit watched for a heartbeat, then flicked his ears. “Okay, I’ll be Sparrowpelt.” He ran to join his littermates and dropped into a crouch beside Creekkit.
As Leafstar watched, she became aware of a cat standing beside her, and turned to see Billystorm. Embarrassment flooded over her when she realized that he must have heard every word of the kits’ game. “I—I’m so sorry…” she stammered.