Tallstar's Revenge

by Erin Hunter

  “He looked at me as if he was trying to work out how strong I was.”

  “And Ashpaw?”

  “She’s not shy.” Tallpaw felt a prickle of irritation. She’d sniffed him like she was checking stale scent. “Nor is her sister.”

  “You have a sense of them, then.” Dawnstripe pushed through a patch of ferns.

  Tallpaw followed in her paw steps, the fronds whisking his flanks. “I guess.”

  “When battle comes, it will help, I promise.”

  Tallpaw didn’t answer. How could knowing that the three young ShadowClan cats were bad-mannered and pushy help him in fight? Suddenly he felt bone-weary. By the time he reached the top of the slope, his paws ached. He was usually fast asleep in his nest by now. He followed Dawnstripe across the grass, comforted as the scent of peat and heather flooded his nose. He glanced up at the sky, relieved to be in the open. Moonlight shone on the pelts of his Clanmates as they crossed the moor ahead of him.

  By the time they reached camp, he was yawning. “I’m so tired.”

  “Hush,” Dawnstripe cautioned him. “The Clan will be sleeping.”

  “Lucky Clan,” he muttered.

  Dawnstripe stopped suddenly, her pelt bushing.

  “What is it?” Tallpaw hissed.

  Dawnstripe was staring at the walls of the camp. Heatherstar stood frozen outside the entrance while her Clanmates paused around her, their ears pricking.

  Voices sounded from inside.

  “They’re here!” Larksplash was the first to move. She raced toward the entrance, ducking past her leader and plunging into the heather. “The visitors! They’ve come at last!”

  CHAPTER 12

  Tallpaw raced into the camp after Dawnstripe. The whole Clan was awake, swirling between the moonlit tussocks so that the clearing looked as busy as Fourtrees. Strange cats appeared among Tallpaw’s Clanmates. A black-and-white she-cat paced beside a gray tom. Her ginger-and-white companion stood, eyes bright, near the edge of the Meeting Hollow while a large, creamy-brown tom tasted the air. Beside them, a tawny tom, short-furred and thin, glanced around curiously.

  Tallpaw opened his mouth and let their scent bathe his tongue. He could taste Thunderpaths, stale food, and a smoky smell, like the grimy clouds that sometimes drifted from Twolegplace.

  “Who are they?” Barkpaw’s eyes were wide.

  Tallpaw stopped beside him. “They’re the visitors.”

  Shrewpaw nosed his way among his Clanmates, snatching sniffs of the newcomers.

  Redclaw blocked his path. “They’re our guests, not prey. Treat them with respect.”

  Shrewpaw lifted his chin. “What are they doing here?”

  “They’ve come to share food and stories,” Redclaw told him.

  Heatherstar weaved between her Clanmates and dipped her head to the black-and-white she-cat. “It’s good to see you again, Bess.” Her eyes flicked over Bess’s companions. “Where’s Wee Hen?”

  Bess shook her head. “’Twas a hard cold-season,” she meowed softly. “But she died warm and full-fed.”

  Heatherstar’s tail drooped. “She’ll be missed.”

  Whiteberry hurried over the tussocks, his eyes clouding. “Did she have any words for me?” he asked hopefully.

  Bess met his gaze. “She asked that you share her stories with your young’uns.”

  “Of course.” Whiteberry’s tail quivered and he turned to the creamy-brown tom. “It’s good to see you, Algernon.”

  The tom whisked his tail. “We decided it were well time we tasted heather once more.”

  Tallpaw shifted his paws, unnerved by the strangeness of having cats who weren’t Clanborn right inside the camp. And they spoke so strangely. “I didn’t believe they’d actually come,” he murmured, half to himself.

  Barkpaw jerked around. “You knew about them already?”

  Tallpaw blinked at him. “Didn’t Hawkheart warn you?”

  “Warn me?” Barkpaw narrowed his eyes. “Who are these cats?”

  Tallpaw shrugged. “All I know is that they’re rogues and they come every year to spend greenleaf with WindClan.”

  Barkpaw gazed at the strangers. “Why?”

  “Because they always have.” Tallpaw repeated Dawnstripe’s words, still not understanding why that made it okay for WindClan to share nests and prey with rogues.

  “Reena!” Larksplash bounded over the tussocks toward the young ginger-and-white she-cat. “You’ve grown!”

  “Oh my tail and whiskers!” Reena looked surprised. “So have you!”

  Meadowslip and Brackenwing hurried after Larksplash and crowded around Reena.

  “How was leaf-bare?” Meadowslip asked.

  Brackenwing ran the tip of her tail along Reena’s spine. “Did you find somewhere warm to shelter?”

  “We stayed cozy,” Reena reassured them. Her gaze flicked over Larksplash. “Are you a warrior yet?”

  “I’ve been a mentor,” Larksplash purred.

  “A mentor?” Reena looked impressed. “You were hardly more than a ’paw the last time we were here.” She glanced around the Clan. “Who’ve you been mentoring?”

  Ryestalk padded forward. “Me.” Her nostrils twitched.

  “And who are you?” Reena cast an admiring gaze over the young warrior.

  “I’m Ryestalk.”

  “Well, I’m Reena, and I’d be honored to touch noses with you.” She leaned forward, sticking out her muzzle.

  Ryestalk glanced at Larksplash. “It’s okay,” Larksplash reassured her. Gingerly Ryestalk touched her nose to Reena’s, then hopped back.

  Barkpaw growled under his breath. “I hope they haven’t brought whitecough with them.”

  Tallpaw breathed in the scent of the visitors. “They smell clean and healthy to me.”

  Barkpaw was still scowling. “I’d like to look them over in the medicine den before they start mixing with the Clan. Hawkheart says strangers bring sickness.”

  The tawny brown rogue had wandered over to the Hunting Stones and stood watching the Clan in silence, his eyes glittering. Beside him, the small, dark gray tom shifted his paws warily.

  Aspenfall approached them, ears twitching. “Sparrow.” He nodded to the tawny-colored tom.

  “Aspenfall.” Sparrow matched Aspenfall’s respectful tone.

  The dark gray rogue lifted his head. “I hope cold-season was kind to the Clan.”

  “Leaf-bare was long, Mole,” Aspenfall told him. “But the prey kept running and our nests were warm.”

  “Bess!” Cloudrunner bounded across the clearing and touched noses with the black-and-white she-cat.

  Tallpaw felt fur brush his flank. Palebird slid in beside him. “It’s good to see old friends,” she murmured.

  “Have you known them long?” Tallpaw asked.

  “They’ve been visiting since before I was born,” Palebird replied. “At least, Algie and Bess have. Reena is their daughter. Sparrow and Mole joined them later.”

  Tallpaw glanced at the gray tom. “They have weird names.” He could understand Sparrow and Mole, but Reena, Algie, and Bess felt strange to his tongue.

  “Bess was named by Twolegs,” Palebird explained. “Algernon, too. They were kittypets once, I think. And Bess gave Reena her sister’s name.”

  “Is that Palebird?” At mention of her sister, Bess turned her head. “You look thin.” She padded over, her eyes round with worry. Reena followed her.

  “I haven’t been well.” Palebird sighed.

  Bess was staring at Tallpaw. “Who’s this?”

  “My son, Tallpaw.” For once, pride warmed Palebird’s voice.

  “He’s a fine one,” Bess purred.

  “I kitted another.” Palebird’s mew wobbled. “But she died.”

  “Oh, Palebird.” Bess’s eyes clouded. She pressed her cheek against Palebird’s. “You poor duckling.”

  Reena stood silently behind her mother. Tallpaw shifted his paws, his tail pricking self-consciously as the two she-cats shared a long
moment of grief. He couldn’t help noticing how clean Bess’s white paws were. And Reena’s ginger pelt shone in the moonlight. He always imagined rogues would be ragged and dirty.

  Barkpaw nudged him. “I think Hawkheart wants me.” Hawkheart was beckoning from the rim of the Meeting Hollow, his gaze as watchful as Sparrow’s. Barkpaw crossed the clearing, then followed his mentor to the medicine den.

  Across the clearing, the elders clustered around Algernon while Sandgorse purred loudly. “Tell us more, Algie,” he urged.

  But Mistmouse circled the clearing without taking her eyes off the visitors, while Hickorynose sat close to Woollytail, muttering under his breath. Tallpaw narrowed his eyes. Not everyone wants them here.

  “He’s a thoughtful one, young Tallpaw.” Bess’s mew jerked Tallpaw’s attention back.

  “I was just watching the Clan,” he mewed quickly.

  Bess glanced over her shoulder. “They’ll take a while to get used to us again,” she meowed. “Once we’ve proved we can earn our keep, the icy ones’ll thaw.”

  “Earn your keep?” Tallpaw didn’t understand.

  “Catch their own food,” Palebird explained.

  Bess threw a wink at Whiteberry across the bracken patch and added, “We may even catch a little extra for the old’uns.”

  “They’ll be grateful for it,” Tallpaw admitted. “So will I. With just the two of us, we have trouble catching enough prey for them.”

  “Two of you?” Reena looked confused.

  “Me and Shrewpaw,” Tallpaw explained. “It’s our job to take care of the elders.”

  As Tallpaw spoke, Heatherstar lifted her muzzle. “It’s late. We should rest. Who will share their dens with our friends?”

  “Bess must stay in the nursery,” Palebird called. On the far side of the clearing, Meadowslip nodded.

  “Would Mole like to bed down with us?” Flamepelt suggested. “The elders’ den is the warmest place in the camp besides the nursery.” He glanced at Mole. “Not that you’re as old and frail as us!” he added.

  Mole dipped his head. “You’re very kind,” he mewed. “And I suspect there’s not many moons between us.”

  Redclaw lifted his tail. “There are spare nests in the long grass for Algie and Sparrow.”

  “Thanks, Redclaw.” Algie headed for the moor runners’ patch.

  Sparrow narrowed his eyes. “Thank you,” he meowed before padding after his companion.

  Bess glanced at her daughter. “What about Reena?”

  Palebird frowned. “There’s not much room in the nursery now that Meadowslip’s so close to kitting.”

  “There’s room in the apprentice den.” Tallpaw surprised himself, the offer tumbling out before he’d even thought about it.

  “Thanks, Tall.” Reena strutted past him, tail flicking. “Just tell me which nest is spare and I’ll happily bed down.”

  “Er, it’s Tallpaw, actually.” Tallpaw hurried after her, wondering what Shrewpaw would say about an extra denmate. Reena had better not try to call him “Shrew”!

  Reena had already picked out a nest at the back of the den by the time Shrewpaw reached the gorse bush. It was Ryestalk’s old nest, and Reena sneezed as dust wafted up from the wool lining when she curled down into it.

  Shrewpaw glared through the den opening. “What’s she doing here?”

  “She needed a place to sleep,” Tallpaw explained. “We’ve got spare nests.”

  “They’re apprentice nests,” Shrewpaw snapped. “Not for rogues.”

  “We’re only rogues till you get to know us.” Reena peeped over the top of her nest, her eyes twinkling. “Until then, why don’t you pretend I’m a little old egg just waiting to hatch and keep your claws sheathed? No sense in killing prey before it’s worth eating.”

  Shrewpaw blinked. “Pretend you’re an egg,” he echoed.

  “Yep.” Reena buried her nose beneath her paw, muffling her mew. “Just a chick in a shell.” She peeped out and caught Tallpaw’s eyes. Her gaze sparkled with laughter.

  Tallpaw swallowed back a purr as Shrewpaw climbed, frowning, into his nest. Having visitors might be fun, he decided as he settled down to sleep.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Rabbit!” Dawnstripe dropped into a crouch, her gaze fixed on a small, brown shape bobbing up the slope. Tallpaw pressed his belly to the ground. He glanced at Reena.

  She was already flat against the grass, her tail twitching behind her. “I see it,” she whispered. “What now, Tall?”

  “Tallpaw,” he hissed under his breath.

  Reena had joined Tallpaw for his training session while Shrewpaw patrolled the boundaries with Hareflight. Their pelts were wind ruffled after a morning practicing prey-hunting skills. Now they had a chance to test them for real.

  “Should I stalk from behind while you two get either side?” Reena was proving to be a natural at planning an attack, even though she didn’t have the speed of a WindClan cat.

  Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes. “Can you move in without alarming it, Reena?” She glanced at Tallpaw. “We’ll need time to cut off its escape routes.” She pointed her muzzle toward a cluster of sandy dips in the grass beside the grazing rabbit. “If it gets to that warren, we’ve lost it.”

  “I’m good at moving quietly,” Reena promised. “And Tallpaw’s fast enough to catch that critter at the mouth of its hole!”

  Tallpaw twitched his tail with pleasure. Training with Reena was far better than training with grouchy Shrewpaw. Dawnstripe nodded him to the wind side of the rabbit. She trusted him to gauge his own scent drift. Tallpaw licked his nose and felt for the breeze. He could probably get halfway to the rabbit before it picked up his smell. Dawnstripe began stalking over the grass, keeping low.

  Tallpaw nodded to Reena. “Good luck,” he whispered, and crept slowly upslope, keeping to one side of the clear grass while Reena padded forward.

  The rabbit bobbed farther along the hill, nibbling at greenleaf shoots. Dawnstripe moved in steadily. Tallpaw padded over the soft grass without ruffling it. He paused as he neared the rabbit. Any closer and the wind would carry his scent straight to it. He glanced across the slope at Dawnstripe. She was close to the warren. He waited until she’d slid into place and blocked the rabbit’s path to safety.

  Reena was moving in behind, her ginger-and-white pelt bright against the grass. But she was creeping slowly with movements so tiny, no prey would notice. The rabbit hopped a few more steps. Tallpaw sped up. He saw Dawnstripe nod and broke into a run, racing for the kill. Reena surged forward. Dawnstripe leaped. The rabbit bolted, kicking grass in its wake as it fled upslope.

  Tallpaw plunged into a flat-out sprint, Reena close on his heels. Dawnstripe closed in from the side. The rabbit was only a tail-length away. Tallpaw pounced, claws unsheathed.

  He hit bare grass. “Where’d it go?” Blinking, he spun around. The rabbit had disappeared.

  Reena scrambled to a halt, ears flat. “It found a hole.” She sniffed at an opening in the ground, covered by long grass that was crushed flat where the rabbit had plunged through.

  Dawnstripe lashed her tail. “There’s no way we could have seen that hole—” As she spoke, paw steps echoed from inside. Fur exploded from it as the terrified rabbit hurtled out.

  Tallpaw didn’t stop to think. He sprang forward, slamming his paws onto the rabbit’s spine, and sank his teeth into its neck to give a killing bite.

  Gray fur flashed at the edge of his vision. “I thought I smelled rabbit.” Tallpaw looked up to see Woollytail emerge from the hole.

  “What were you doing in there?” Reena blinked at the tunneler, her eyes clouded with confusion. “Were you waiting for it?”

  “No,” Woollytail meowed. “It surprised me as much as I surprised it. One moment I was propping up a crumbling roof; the next, paws are thumping toward me. I’m not going to ignore prey if it’s running toward me, so I chased it.” He broke into a purr. “I didn’t realize I was part of a hunting team.”

  Daw
nstripe lifted her tail. “We’re lucky you were down there.”

  Tallpaw licked blood from his lips, the warm tang making his belly rumble. “Who’s in there with you?”

  “Sandgorse and Plumclaw are working on the second gorge tunnel,” Woollytail explained. “I was on my way back to camp when I saw the crumbling roof. I thought I’d fix it before it caved in.”

  Dawnstripe was looking confused. “Second gorge tunnel?” she echoed. “Isn’t one enough?”

  “Not with the river being so unpredictable,” Woollytail meowed. “After the first one flooded, we knew we were going to need more than one route. You never know—”

  Dawnstripe cut him off. “The first one flooded?” Her gaze snapped to Tallpaw. “What does he mean?”

  Tallpaw backed away from the rabbit. “The tunnel kind of flooded while I was working on it with Sandgorse.”

  “Kind of flooded?” Dawnstripe’s eyes widened.

  Woollytail shook earth from his pelt. “It was just a miscalculation,” he told her. “We dug too low the first time. The new tunnel’s at the right level now, but come leaf-bare and snowmelt, the river’s going to fill it, so we need a second one, higher up.”

  Dawnstripe was staring at Tallpaw as though Woollytail hadn’t spoken. “Were you okay?”

  Tallpaw tried to stop his pelt from pricking at the memory. “I didn’t even get my paws wet.”

  Woollytail snorted, amused. “He’s a great tunnel runner.”

  Dawnstripe’s tail bushed out. “You had to run?”

  “It was either that or drown,” Woollytail told her.

  “You could have been killed!” Dawnstripe’s fur lifted along her spine. Tallpaw couldn’t tell if she was more frightened or angry.

  “I was okay,” he reassured her. “Sandgorse was with me.”

  “Tunneling near the gorge is too dangerous,” Dawnstripe declared.

  Reena stepped forward, her eyes round. “Why do you tunnel at all?”

  “WindClan cats have always tunneled,” Woollytail mewed.

  Reena peered into the rabbit hole. “And there are cats underground right now?” She sounded amazed.

  “Of course.”

  Reena shuddered. “Do you sleep down there?”