Outcast (12 page)

“Even if we're not sure of our reception?” Stormfur reminded him softly.

No cat answered him. Instead, Brambleclaw rose to his paws. “Are you ready?” he asked Lionpaw.

“For what?” Lionpaw meowed, his paws tingling with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“We must go to ShadowClan and see if Tawnypelt will come with us,” his father replied.

“Great!” Lionpaw couldn't stop himself from bouncing eagerly, then froze, cross that he was behaving like a stupid
kit. “I'm looking forward to seeing Tawnypelt's kits. They're my kin,” he added, trying to sound more dignified.

Squirrelflight glanced briefly at Leafpool. “Hollypaw, you can come with me to WindClan to find out if Crowfeather will come with us,” she meowed.

“What about me?” Jaypaw asked.

“Come back to the clearing with me,” Leafpool told him. “We'll need to prepare traveling herbs.”

“If the other cats agree to go,” Firestar mewed, “bring them back to the hollow. You can leave in the morning.”

“Fine. Let's go, Hollypaw.” Squirrelflight waved her tail and set off through the trees toward the WindClan border. Hollypaw darted after her, almost stumbling over her paws in her haste.

“All set, Lionpaw?” Brambleclaw asked.

Lionpaw nodded; his chest felt tight at the thought of crossing the border into another Clan's territory.

“Good luck, all of you!” Firestar called.

Lionpaw waited until Hollypaw's black pelt had vanished among the rustling bracken. Then he turned and plunged into the undergrowth, following his father.

Wind whipped through Lionpaw's pelt as
he raced toward the ShadowClan border. He couldn't think of anywhere he would rather be than running beside his father, with an important mission ahead and the chance to prove himself. He was proud of how he kept up with Brambleclaw; he wasn't as big, but his legs were nearly as long.

“Watch out,” Brambleclaw warned. “Fallen tree ahead.”

Lionpaw had already spotted it, a beech with smooth gray bark, brought down in the storms of the previous leaf-bare. A few dead leaves still clung to its branches, rustling in the breeze. Brambleclaw skirted the roots, but Lionpaw sprang upward, scrabbling with his hind paws to drag himself on top of the trunk, and pushed his way through the branches until he could leap down on the other side.

He wanted to show Brambleclaw just how fast and powerful he could be, so when a small stream crossed their path he gathered his muscles for an enormous leap and launched himself across the water. His paws stretched for a smooth flat stone on the opposite side, but just before he landed a blackbird erupted from a hazel bush just ahead, giving a raucous alarm call.

Startled, Lionpaw landed awkwardly; his hind paws slipped and cold water surged over his haunches and his tail. “Mouse dung!” he spat, his claws scoring the stone as he dragged himself out.

Brambleclaw was waiting for him on the bank, amusement glimmering in his amber eyes. “Steady on,” he purred. “You're not a RiverClan cat, and we haven't time for fishing.”

“Sorry,” Lionpaw muttered. Glittering drops of water spun away from his pelt as he tried to shake himself dry.

As they drew closer to ShadowClan territory, Brambleclaw's pace slowed, until he came to a halt on the border not far from the dead tree.

“What are we waiting for?” Lionpaw mewed.

“A ShadowClan patrol,” his father replied. “They'll escort us to their camp.”

“But you
know
where the camp is,” Lionpaw protested, flexing his claws in frustration. “It's not as if we're attacking them! Why can't we just go?”

“Because Blackstar won't see it like that.” Brambleclaw looked down at him, serious now. “We're coming to take one of his warriors away on a long, dangerous journey, to help a completely different group of cats. He won't like it, and I can't say I blame him. Besides, the warrior code forbids us to trespass on another Clan's territory, whether we're friendly or not. We'll wait.” He sat down just on the ThunderClan side of the border and wrapped his tail over his paws. “If you want something to do, you can groom that wet fur. I don't want ShadowClan thinking that ThunderClan apprentices
can't look after themselves.”

Lionpaw's pelt had begun to dry, the hairs clumping together in untidy tufts. He sat down and gave himself a thorough washing, stretching his neck over his back to reach every last scrap of fur. When he had finished there were still no ShadowClan warriors in sight.

“Don't they ever patrol their borders?” he grumbled, batting at a beetle that was climbing a grass stem near his nose.

Brambleclaw had settled into a crouch, his paws tucked comfortably under him and his eyes slitted, enjoying the sun. “They'll be along soon. You can hunt if you want, but make sure you stay on
this
side of the border.”

Lionpaw sprang up, but before he could pinpoint any prey he heard the sound of pelts swishing through the bracken a few fox-lengths away. A ShadowClan patrol appeared from the arching fronds and stalked toward the border. Lionpaw recognized Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy, but the other two—a young dark brown tom and a tortoiseshell she-cat—were strangers to him.

As soon as he spotted Brambleclaw and Lionpaw waiting by the border, the young tom exclaimed, “Intruders! I
knew
I'd scented them.” He bounded forward, his fur bristling.

“Toadfoot, wait!” Russetfur overtook her Clanmate and padded up to Brambleclaw. “What do you want?”

“Greetings.” Brambleclaw dipped his head, ignoring the deputy's hostile tone. “We're not intruding, Russetfur, just waiting for an escort to your camp. We need to speak to Blackstar.”

Russetfur's whiskers twitched suspiciously. “What's so important that it can't wait until the Gathering?”

“A decision that Blackstar must make now.”

The ShadowClan deputy lashed her tail; Lionpaw guessed she was furious that Brambleclaw wouldn't tell her what his business was. Reluctantly she stepped back, jerking her head to invite Brambleclaw and Lionpaw across the border.

“Ivytail, run back to the camp and warn Blackstar,” she ordered. “Toadfoot, keep an eye out behind. We need to be sure that there aren't any more ThunderClan warriors lurking about.”

She turned and stalked off, with Brambleclaw padding quietly at her shoulder, while Toadfoot drew close to Lionpaw, fixing him with a fierce glare. “Don't even
think
about unsheathing your claws,” he hissed.

“Don't worry, I won't,” Lionpaw retorted. He remembered Birchfall, back in camp, talking about his friendship with ShadowClan kits during the Great Journey. Toadkit was one of the names he mentioned; this young warrior must be the same cat.

“Do you remember Birchkit?” he asked, trying to be more friendly. “He's Birchfall now.”

“So?” Toadfoot sounded just as hostile.

“He was telling us about you earlier today. He said what good friends he was with you and your littermates.”

For a heartbeat he thought he saw a shadow of sadness in Toadfoot's eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“That was on the Great Journey,” Toadfoot meowed.
“Things were different then. I'm a ShadowClan warrior now.”

Lionpaw stifled a sigh. Why couldn't you be a loyal warrior and still have friends in other Clans? He wondered if things had been better on the Great Journey, when there were no borders, so you didn't have to be enemies with other cats just because of where they lived.

But he couldn't go on thinking about that now, not when Russetfur was leading them deeper into ShadowClan territory. Lionpaw's whiskers twitched as they skirted the empty stretch of grass where Twolegs came in greenleaf. He had seen the flat green pelts they put there when he was on border patrols, but he had never set paw anywhere near them. He tasted Twoleg scent as Russetfur led them past, creeping close to the ground in the shadow of the ferns, but there was no noise of Twoleg yowling or any sign of the Twolegs themselves.

As they left the clearing behind, Lionpaw was surprised to find that the woodland on the other side looked just like ThunderClan territory. But gradually the familiar oaks and beeches gave way to tall, dark pines, with spiky shadows trapped in their branches. Birdsong echoed strangely from the narrow, leafless trunks. The undergrowth of fern and bramble thinned out until the cats were padding across ground that was bare except for a thick covering of brown pine needles.

Suppressing a shiver, Lionpaw hurried so he could catch up to Brambleclaw and walk at his side. His father flashed
him a sympathetic glance and brushed his tail comfortingly across his shoulder.

At last Lionpaw began to pick up the mingled scents of many cats, coming from just ahead. Russetfur led them up a short slope and through a barrier of bushes that grew along the top.

“Wait here,” she ordered.

She headed down a shallower slope into a wide hollow, while Toadfoot stayed to guard the two ThunderClan cats, glaring through narrowed eyes from a couple of tail-lengths away.

“Is this the ShadowClan camp?” Lionpaw whispered to Brambleclaw. “It looks so open.”

“We're lucky to have the hollow to shelter us,” Brambleclaw replied.

When he looked closer, Lionpaw began to see that this was a Clan camp very like his own, even though it looked so different. Russetfur had vanished into a gap behind a huge boulder, which he guessed was the Clan leader's den. Not far away from it was a straggly bramble thicket that was probably the apprentices' den; there was a dead log just outside it, thickly scored with scratch marks, which would be the place where the apprentices sharpened their claws.

He started at a yowl from a yew bush on the slope just below him. “This moss is dripping wet! I'll
scratch
that apprentice when I catch him!”

“The elders' den,” Lionpaw muttered to his father. “I guess they're just the same everywhere.”

He was distracted from his study of the camp by the reappearance of Russetfur. Blackstar followed her out of the gap behind the boulder and leaped onto a tree stump in the middle of the hollow. Russetfur gestured to Toadfoot with her tail, and the brown tom escorted Brambleclaw and Lionpaw down the slope until they stood in front of the ShadowClan leader. Lionpaw felt curious stares from the ShadowClan warriors scorch his pelt and heard the cats muttering to one another. They didn't sound friendly.

He had seen Blackstar before at Gatherings, but he had never been so close to him. Swallowing nervously, he realized that the white tom was a very powerful warrior. One swat from those huge black paws could shred a cat's ear. He wondered what Brambleclaw would do if Blackstar attacked him. Was he strong and skillful enough to fight him off and escape from the rival Clan's territory?

But for the moment Blackstar seemed calm, if not exactly welcoming. “Brambleclaw,” he meowed. “What are you doing in our territory?”

“I've come to speak to my sister, Tawnypelt.”

“What if she doesn't want to speak to you?” Russetfur's tone was sharp.

Blackstar raised his tail, warning his deputy to be quiet. “What do you want with her?”

Lionpaw's belly churned as Brambleclaw told the ShadowClan cats about the appearance of Talon and Night and the trouble that had come upon the Tribe of Rushing Water. “Firestar has agreed to let me and Squirrelflight go
back to the mountains to help the Tribe cats,” he finished. “We thought we should invite Tawnypelt and Crowfeather to come too. They know the Tribe well from the first journey we made together.”

“
What!
” Russetfur exclaimed, before Blackstar could respond. “You dare to come here and expect to take one of our warriors away? Of course Tawnypelt's not going. She has kits, for StarClan's sake!”

Once again Blackstar gestured with his tail. “You'll make these ThunderClan cats think we don't want to cooperate,” he told her. “Suppose we ask Tawnypelt what she wants to do? It's her decision.”

Lionpaw flashed a glance at his father, but Brambleclaw avoided his gaze. It was clear that Blackstar expected Tawnypelt would decide to stay with her Clanmates and her kits.

Blackstar leaped down from the stump and led the way across the camp to a bramble thicket on the far side. “This is our nursery,” he meowed. “Go in and see her.”

Brambleclaw nodded in thanks and lowered his head to creep through the narrow entrance. Lionpaw followed; to his relief Blackstar remained outside.

ShadowClan's nursery was bigger than the one in the stone hollow, but it had the same cozy covering of moss on the floor and the same warm, milky smell. As Lionpaw's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he made out the glimmering shape of a white queen with a huge swollen belly, curled in a mossy nest. Her ears pricked anxiously as the two ThunderClan cats entered.

“Brambleclaw!” The exclamation came from farther inside the nursery. Lionpaw spotted Tawnypelt, her head raised and her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to see you,” Brambleclaw replied. “I've got something to ask you.”

Before he could say any more, Tawnypelt's kits scrambled out of their nest and bounced over to Brambleclaw and Lionpaw.

“Who are you?” The biggest kit, a tiger-striped tom, stretched up until his whiskers tickled Lionpaw's nose.

Lionpaw edged back, stifling a sneeze. “My name's Lionpaw. I'm an apprentice from—”

His father gave him a warning nudge. “We're ThunderClan cats,” he replied.

“Oh, that's why you smell all yucky!” A tiny tom with dark ginger fur wrinkled his nose.

Not half as yucky as you do
.

The third kit, a gray she-cat, bounded up to Lionpaw and flung herself at him; he was so surprised that he lost his balance and landed on his side in the moss.

“We're the best fighters!” the gray kit yowled. “Come on, let's defend the camp!”

Instantly the other two kits bundled on top of Lionpaw. For a heartbeat he wondered if ShadowClan was so hostile that even the kits tried to drive out intruders; then he realized that it was only a game. The kits' claws were sheathed, and their eyes gleamed with mischief, not anger. He fought back, pushing the kits off him and managing to get to his
paws again, spitting out moss.

“That's no way to welcome a visitor,” Tawnypelt scolded them. “Brambleclaw, these are my kits—the striped one is Tigerkit, the ginger is Flamekit, and the one who's asking for a cuff around the ear is Dawnkit.” She glared at the she-cat, who was creeping up on Lionpaw's tail as if it were a piece of prey.

Tigerkit!
Lionpaw stiffened. Did Tawnypelt hope that her son would become as great a warrior as Tigerstar? Would this kit receive the same training from their ancestor as Lionpaw did?

“Kits!” Tawnypelt warned her litter to behave. “Come over here, Brambleclaw, and tell me what all this is about.”

Absorbed in trying to keep his tail out of reach of Dawnkit, who clearly hadn't listened to her mother's warning, Lionpaw didn't hear his father's explanation. But he stopped, fur tingling with excitement, when he heard Tawnypelt mew, “I will come.”

The tortoiseshell she-cat's eyes were shining as she clambered out of her nest. All three kits gave up chasing Lionpaw and stared at their mother.

“What do you mean?” Tigerkit asked.

“You're not going to leave us?” Dawnkit wailed.