Outcast (23 page)

Jaypaw lay in the moss-lined
nest beside Lionpaw and Hollypaw, listening to the endless thunder of the waterfall. There seemed to be voices in it, too faint for him to catch, however hard he strained his ears. Nearby, he could hear the murmuring of tired cats as they settled down for the night.

Hollypaw and Lionpaw were sleeping like hedgehogs in leaf-bare, exhausted from working so hard. Curled up with his tail over his nose, Jaypaw tried to sleep too, but it was no good. His paws itched to be up and doing something. Careful not to disturb his littermates, he slid out of the nest and padded into the center of the cave.

He was beginning to learn his way around. He could distinguish the sleeping places of the cave-guards and prey-hunters and scent his own Clanmates who were sharing their space. Creeping across the cave floor with the waterfall behind him, he heard an echoing tinkle of water drops falling and discovered a trickle spilling into a pool. He crouched down to lap; the water was ice cold and tasted of the wind.

He found it hard to believe that the Clan cats would stay here in the mountains for much longer. They weren't welcome
here, whatever Stoneteller said, and it didn't look as if forcing the Tribe to learn Clan skills would solve anything. But before they left he was determined to discover more about the Tribe of Endless Hunting. Rising to his paws again, he licked the last drops of water from his jaws and tasted the air.

Stoneteller's scent! Jaypaw picked up the faint trace on the cave floor and followed it toward the back of the cave, where a gap opened up. He slid through it and along a narrow tunnel until the movement of air and the faint echoes of his paw steps told him that he had emerged into another cave.

A wisp of chill wind told him that it was open to the sky, at least partly. Padding forward, his paw splashed in a puddle of water and he drew back sharply, shaking it in disgust. He brushed against stone and explored it with one paw; it jutted from the cave floor like a tree trunk. The air was filled with strange, whispering echoes, voices that were too faint to make out, like those he had heard in the waterfall.

Then a clearer voice spoke. “Jaypaw, welcome to the Cave of Pointed Stones.”

Jaypaw froze. He had been too intent on his investigations to wonder what would happen if Stoneteller found him here. This was the Healer's private place, he could tell, like a Clan leader's den. But there was no point in pretending he wasn't there.

“Thank you, Stoneteller.”

He heard the sound of paw steps and imagined the old tabby padding toward him. When Stoneteller's voice came again it was close to his ear.

“This is where I share tongues with the Tribe of Endless Hunting. They send me signs through the shimmer of stars and moon in the water, the dance of light and shadow on the stones that rise from the floor and jut down from the roof, the echoes of wind, water, and paw steps.” His voice rose and fell, unlike normal speech, then dropped to a low murmur. “Yet now they send no signs that promise relief for my Tribe.”

Jaypaw had lost respect for Stoneteller when the old cat had lied about the message from the Tribe of Endless Hunting. But he couldn't ignore the Healer's age and wisdom or the sharp sense of betrayal Stoneteller felt as he faced the destruction of his Tribe.

“Our ancestors have no help to offer,” Stoneteller went on. “It is as though they don't care that we are dying.”

Jaypaw wasn't sure if Stoneteller was really talking to him. He was speaking as if to a much older cat, one who might have wisdom to share with him.

“Clan cats look to StarClan,” Jaypaw began hesitantly. “Yet not even StarClan is all-powerful. Perhaps the Tribe of Endless Hunting doesn't know how to help you.”

“Then why did they bring us here?” Stoneteller rasped. “They promised us we would be safe.”

Jaypaw's ears pricked. What did Stoneteller know about the beginnings of the Tribe?

“Where did you live before?” he asked. “Why did you have to leave and come here?”

Stoneteller sighed, his breath riffling Jaypaw's whiskers. “I do not know. It was many seasons, many lifetimes ago. The
Tribe of Endless Hunting has not told me this.”

Every hair on Jaypaw's pelt prickled. So the Tribe hadn't always lived in the mountains! Perhaps the Tribe of Endless Hunting was so helpless because they were convinced they had been wrong, and the mountains were not the right place to bring these cats. He clawed the damp floor with his forepaws. If only he knew the whole truth, not just these tantalizing scraps!

“What do the signs say tonight?” he asked Stoneteller.

“Very little,” the Healer replied. “The moon shines on the water, but—there!—a cloud drifts over it, as if all our hopes are blotted out. The echoes tell me nothing, but over there wind ruffles the surface of a puddle, and that means change.” He sighed again, sounding unutterably weary. “What the change may be, I do not know. I will sleep now. Good night, Jaypaw.”

“Good night.” Jaypaw heard the old cat's paw steps retreating, and then a scuffling sound as if he was making himself comfortable in a mossy nest. He stood listening as the sounds died away, trying to make some sense of the echoes in the cave, but they told him nothing.

Padding to the side of the cave, he found a dip in the ground. It was bare stone, with no comfortable lining, but he curled up in it, knowing that only in dreams would he find the answers to his questions.

Jaypaw closed his eyes and woke once more on the jutting outcrop of rock with the wind flattening his fur along his sides. Rock sat on a boulder facing him. Moonlight glistened
on his hairless body and his bulging sightless eyes seemed fixed on Jaypaw.

“These are not your ancestors,” he mewed, before Jaypaw could speak. “Be careful.”

“I
am
careful,” Jaypaw retorted. “And I have to do something! The Tribe of Endless Hunting has given up on the Tribe. They're not doing anything to help.”

“But your Clanmates are,” Rock replied.

“But that's not right!” Jaypaw protested, twitching his tail tip in confusion. “Isn't it the responsibility of warrior ancestors to look after their descendants? Otherwise what use are they?”

Rock said nothing, but Jaypaw sensed great sadness coming from him. Curiosity clawed at him again. Why should Rock feel so concerned about the Tribe cats?
And why will no cat tell me anything?

He let out a yowl of frustration as he saw Rock's figure beginning to fade. For a heartbeat Jaypaw saw him as a shimmer against the rocks; then he was gone, dissolved into wind and starlight. He bounded forward and found himself scrabbling in the hollow in the Cave of Pointed Stones, where he had fallen asleep.

“Mouse dung!” he spat.

Scent told him that time had passed and Stoneteller had left the cave. Jaypaw rose to his paws and gave himself a quick grooming. His dreams still clung to his mind like stubborn cobwebs, and he felt that he might be able to find his own answers once he had time to think.

But the time was not now. He could hear faint caterwauling in the distance; his muscles tensing with the anticipation of disaster, he located the passage and pattered down it until he reached the main cave. The noise grew louder, wails and yowling that almost drowned out the noise of the waterfall. As Jaypaw stepped into the cavern, the stench of blood slapped him in the face like a damp wind.

“What's going on?” he meowed in alarm.

He tasted the air; the first familiar scent he encountered was Tawnypelt's. Bounding over to her, he asked, “What happened? Has there been a battle?”

“A fight.” The ShadowClan cat's voice was terse. “The prey-hunters went out at dawn and brought down an eagle. Then the trespassers spotted them on their way home and fought them for it.”

“And we lost!” an unfamiliar voice snarled. “Those mange-ridden fleapelts took our prey. It's all the fault of you Clan cats. You kept the cave-guards here, learning
battle techniques
.” The Tribe cat spat out the last words as if they were a curse.

“The techniques you use now wouldn't help you fight other cats.” Brambleclaw's voice came from behind Jaypaw and his father's scent wreathed around him.

“They'd be better than nothing!” the Tribe cat yowled. “My mate was injured today.” His voice shook suddenly. “I don't even know if she'll live.”

“I'm sorry,” Brambleclaw murmured. “Jaypaw, will you go and help Stoneteller? He could use another medicine cat.”

“Sure.” Thankful to have something to do at last, Jaypaw
located Stoneteller's scent among all the others and padded across to him, weaving his way among the bodies of injured cats screeching in pain.

“Honestly,” he muttered to himself. “There can't be more than about six of them, but they're making enough racket for a whole Clan!”

“Jaypaw.” Stoneteller's voice was calm and in control. He seemed a lifetime away from the weary, confused cat of the night before. “Chew up this tormentil root and put it on Gray's wound.”

Jaypaw sniffed curiously at the root Stoneteller pushed against his paws. “I've never come across this before. What did you call it?”

“Tormentil,” Stoneteller replied. “Good for all wounds and for poison.”

“Hey, do you mind?” Gray's voice, tight with pain, came from just beside Jaypaw. “Talk about it afterward, okay?”

“Okay.” Jaypaw sighed. “Have you given the wound a good lick?”

“No…” Gray sounded startled, as if the thought of licking his own wound had never occurred to him.

“Then do it,” Jaypaw snapped. “What's the good of putting a poultice on a load of drying blood and messy fur?”

He crouched down to chew up the tormentil, hearing the steady rasp of Gray's tongue. The root had a strong aromatic scent and a sharp taste.

“We use wintergreen, too,” Stoneteller meowed as he worked. “And tansy. Have you heard of those?”

Jaypaw spat out the last of the chewed-up root and scooped up a pawful to put on Gray's wound. “We have tansy, but mostly for coughs. Right, Gray, is that wound clean now?”

“Yes, it's okay,” the prey-hunter replied.

“About time,” Jaypaw muttered. “It's like dealing with kits!”

“Hey, calm down.” Hollypaw pushed her muzzle into Jaypaw's neck fur. “Tell me what to do. I've come to help.”

“The Tribe cats need to start helping themselves,” Jaypaw snapped at her, then felt sorry for being sharp. Hollypaw didn't know that the Tribe's ancestors had given up on them, and he didn't want to tell her. But he knew that if the Tribe cats
didn't
start helping themselves, there was no hope left for them.

Once the injured cats had been
treated and were resting in their sleeping hollows, Stoneteller padded wearily toward the mouth of the cave. He beckoned with his tail for Brambleclaw to join him, and Lionpaw followed, eager to hear what their next move would be.

The light that came through the waterfall was dim and gray. Stoneteller sat down, a small, dark figure in the midst of the watery radiance, and tucked his paws underneath him.

“The Tribe cannot survive here,” he sighed, his voice almost drowned out by the pounding of the water. “We must leave the mountains and find a home somewhere else.”

Brambleclaw's eyes widened in dismay. “That's your decision to make, Stoneteller, but is it wise? It's dangerous for a large group of cats to move around together. The Clans lost cats on the Great Journey. Besides, where would you go?”

Stoneteller shook his head; he had no answer to that question.

Maybe they could come to the lake with us
, Lionpaw thought.
But there are too many to join one Clan. They would have to split up, and they wouldn't like that. Anyway, the Clans would never accept them
.

“Even if you found a new home,” Brambleclaw went on, “you would have to learn new ways of living, new hunting techniques. It would be better to find a way of surviving here, where you belong.”

Stoneteller turned his head to look up at the dark tabby. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“Give the border patrols a try,” Brambleclaw meowed.

“Patrols?” Stoneteller's voice was disapproving. “Spend all our time scrambling over rocks?”

“Yes, it's hard,” Brambleclaw admitted, an edge of annoyance in his voice. “But your cats are used to moving around in this terrain. That gives you a big advantage over the intruders.”

The Healer blinked, his eyes on the eternally falling water. After several heartbeats, he asked, “Are you saying that the Tribe must restrict itself to one area?”

“It would be a big area,” Brambleclaw promised. “Plenty of space for you to support yourselves. And isn't keeping part of your territory better than losing it all?” When Stoneteller didn't respond, he added, “Why don't you come and see for yourself, to make sure you'll have enough?”

“The Healer does not leave the cave, except for ceremonies above the waterfall,” Stoneteller responded. “That is the will of the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”

Brambleclaw looked frustrated, the tip of his tail twitching back and forth. Lionpaw was afraid he was going to give up the argument.

Then Stoneteller spoke again. “But perhaps the time is right to break with some of our traditions, so that we can pre
serve the rest. I will come with you.”

“Great!” Brambleclaw's tail went straight up. “I'll get a patrol together right away. Lionpaw, you can come.” He flicked his tail at him as he raced back into the main part of the cave.

Lionpaw wasn't sure he wanted to clamber all the way around the territory again. His paws were still sore from the previous day. But he did want to help establish the border and to see what Stoneteller's reaction would be. He waited beside the Healer until Brambleclaw returned. Talon, Breezepaw, and Pebble were with him; Crowfeather followed a little way behind with Crag, Night, and a couple of the other Tribe to-bes.

“Crowfeather will take his patrol in one direction, and we'll take the other,” Brambleclaw meowed to Stoneteller. “That way, we can get around the whole territory by nightfall. We won't try to explore every corner, just find landmarks along the way so that we all know where the border is.”

Stoneteller nodded. “Very well.”

He let Brambleclaw take the lead along the Path of Rushing Water and out into the open. Lionpaw paused briefly before leaping from the rocks to the flat ground around the pool. The sky was covered with gray clouds, so low that they rested on the mountain peaks. The air was heavy, with a taste of rain to come. The blue skies and warm sun of greenleaf could have been moons away.

Crowfeather's patrol climbed the path beside the waterfall and vanished, while Brambleclaw led his cats over the rocks opposite, the same route they had followed the day before.
He set a brisk pace until they reached the twisted spike of rock that Lionpaw had picked out as the first border marker.

“We'll set a scent marker here,” Brambleclaw announced. “Lionpaw, would you like to demonstrate?”

“Shouldn't it be Tribe scent?” Talon asked.

“Of course,” mewed Brambleclaw. “You and Pebble can do the rest, once Lionpaw has shown you how.”

The three Tribe cats glanced at one another. Lionpaw could see that they weren't sure that marking a border would make any difference to the aggressive intruders. He couldn't help agreeing; scent markers were useless unless they were reinforced with teeth and claws when it was needed.

“I don't know why we bother,” Breezepaw muttered in his ear. “They just don't think like Clan cats. They have no idea how to make a border work.”

When Lionpaw had set the marker the patrol continued along the ridge to the head of the valley with the stream, and then on across the plateau. Brambleclaw chose a stack of loose rocks as another vantage point for a marker. Water dripped over them from a narrow crack, leaving them slick and green with a thin covering of moss.

“What use is this in our territory?” Stoneteller objected, as Talon prepared to set the marker. “These rocks are always so wet that no prey can survive here.”

“That's not the point,” Brambleclaw explained. “Markers need to be seen and easily identified. It's great if they're useful as well, but they don't need to be.”

Stoneteller gave a doubtful snort but didn't object any
more as Talon set the marker. He was silent as they continued around the pool where they had clashed with the three intruders and along the narrow valley where the young trespassers had ambushed them.

When they had climbed out of the valley, Pebble set a scent marker at the base of a huge boulder overlooking a craggy slope that led down to a clump of scrubby, windblown trees.

“What about those?” Stoneteller asked, pointing with his tail. “We need that place in our territory.”

Brambleclaw surveyed the terrain with narrowed eyes. “It's not worth it,” he decided. “They're too hard to reach from here.”

“But Tribe cats have hunted there for seasons. The trees bear our claw marks.”

Lionpaw saw the slight bristling of his father's neck fur that told him Brambleclaw was trying not to show his annoyance.

“Your border has to be manageable if you're to stand any chance of defending it,” he explained. “Your main aim must be to enclose enough territory to support the Tribe. And you must leave the trespassers enough space for themselves; otherwise you're asking them to attack you.”

Lionpaw saw Talon nodding as if he understood, but Stoneteller lashed his tail and hissed through bared teeth. “Suit yourself, Clan cat.”

Brambleclaw just dipped his head and motioned to Talon to take the lead again.

Their route lay over the shoulder of a hill and down a boulder-covered slope to a stream in the valley below. Before they reached the bottom, icy rain began to fall, stinging as the wind drove it into the cats' faces. Within a few heartbeats, Lionpaw's pelt was soaked. Shivering, he longed for the shelter of thick, leafy branches.

“How do you Tribe cats stand it?” he asked Pebble. “Even when the sun shines, it's so windy up here. And this rain is just—”

“I'll show you,” Pebble interrupted.

She quickened her pace, bounding down among the boulders until she reached the side of the stream. Curious, Lionpaw followed her. He found her rolling in the mud on the bank until her pelt was thoroughly plastered with it.

“Try it,” she invited, springing up. “It keeps the warmth in and the cold wind out. And prey-hunters do it when they're stalking prey so that they don't stand out against the rocks.”

Lionpaw recalled seeing Tribe cats with mud-covered fur. He'd just assumed that they hadn't bothered to groom. Now he could see the advantages. Gingerly he lowered himself into a muddy hollow and rolled over and over until the brown mud covered his golden fur.

Hearing a snort of laughter, he looked up to see Breezepaw standing over him. “You'll have fun licking
that
off,” the WindClan apprentice sniggered.

“So will you!” Before Breezepaw could react, Lionpaw leaped up and bowled him over, dragging him down into the mud with him. Breezepaw let out a startled yowl, scrambling
to get out, but Lionpaw wrestled with him until his pelt was just as thoroughly mud-soaked.

“Stupid furball!” Breezepaw spat, hauling himself onto a nearby rock and surveying his filthy fur with a disgusted look.

Pebble was watching both of them, her tail curled up in amusement. “Fair's fair,” she meowed. “You teach us Clan ways, and now you're learning Tribe ways.”

Lionpaw clambered out of the hollow and shook himself. He hated the smell of the mud and the way it stuck his fur together, but he had to admit Pebble had been right. The muddy covering did keep the wind out.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Let's keep going.”

Talon jumped across the stream and led the way up the slope beyond. Lionpaw had only just begun to climb when he heard a yowl from somewhere above and looked up to see cat shapes outlined against the sky. Briefly he froze, expecting intruders. Then mingled Clan and Tribe scents reached him and he recognized Crowfeather's patrol.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “That's the whole border marked.”

The two groups of cats met on top of the ridge. Crowfeather reported an encounter with a couple of intruders, who had slunk rapidly away when they realized they were outnumbered. Otherwise they had set their scent markers with no trouble.

“Then let's return to the cave,” Stoneteller meowed.

To Lionpaw's relief, Talon led them back by a much quicker route. The rain eased off on the way, and when they reached the pool by the waterfall Hollypaw was in the middle
of a training session with the to-bes who had stayed behind.

“Lionpaw!” She paused in the middle of demonstrating a fighting move, her green eyes wide with astonishment. “I hardly recognized you. You look just like a Tribe cat!”

Lionpaw shrugged uncomfortably, still hating the feeling of the mud on his fur. “I can't wait to get it off.”

“Why? Doesn't it work?”

“Yes, it works fine,” Lionpaw replied, “but it's yucky.”

Hollypaw rolled her eyes. “Your golden fur really stands out against the rocks,” she pointed out. “You'll catch much more prey the way you are now.”

“I suppose so.” Lionpaw sighed. He wished he was back in the forest, where his pelt blended with the dappled sunlight through the leaves.

The other cats had taken the path behind the waterfall, back into the cave. Only Brambleclaw was left, poised on the rocks above the pool. “Come on!” He beckoned the younger cats with his tail. “Stoneteller is going to call a meeting.”

Lionpaw sprang up the rocks to follow him, with Hollypaw and the Tribe to-bes close behind. Wavering scarlet light from the setting sun outside shone into the cave like rivulets of blood. Lionpaw shivered, almost imagining that he could feel a sticky tide washing around his paws.

Stoneteller was seated on a boulder at the far end of the cave, near the passage that led to the Cave of Pointed Stones. The Tribe cats and the Clan cats mingled together, gathering around him; Lionpaw spotted Jaypaw with Squirrelflight. He and Hollypaw joined Breezepaw and the Tribe to-bes.

“Cats of Tribe and Clan,” Stoneteller began. “Our borders have been marked. It remains to be seen whether the intruders will respect them.”

Lionpaw could tell that Stoneteller didn't believe that the border would make any difference, and there were doubtful murmurs from the Tribe cats.

A skinny white she-cat spoke up. “Those mangepelts don't respect anything.”

“Cloud With Storm in Belly.” Stoneteller dipped his head toward her. “I fear your seasons of wisdom speak true.”

“Then what do we do now?” Night meowed, her forepaws working nervously on the cave floor. “Has all this been for nothing?”

“No.” Brambleclaw rose to his paws and spoke commandingly, his head and tail held high. Lionpaw's pelt felt warm with pride that this noble cat was his father. “But the job's not finished yet. Now we must go to the intruders and tell them to stay on their own side of the border.”

“And you think they'll listen?” Cloud asked scornfully.

“I don't know,” Brambleclaw replied. “But they should be given the chance. We will seek out their camp under truce and ask to speak to their leader.”

“Truce!” Screech, sitting between Lionpaw and Pebble, let out a snort of contempt. “He's beetle-brained if he thinks the trespassers will honor a truce.”

“They might,” Hollypaw mewed. “Back home, there's a truce every moon among the Clans.”

When Screech didn't look convinced, Lionpaw added,
“Yes, StarClan would be angry if any cat fought during the full moon.”

Pebble blinked, more curious than disbelieving. “Do you think these trespassers know about StarClan? Or the Tribe of Endless Hunting?”

Lionpaw exchanged a glance with his sister, seeing his own confusion reflected in her green eyes.
Did
the intruders share tongues with the spirits of their ancestors like the Tribe and the Clans?

“I don't know,” Hollypaw replied. “But it's got to be worth a try.”

While they were talking, the discussion had continued among the full-grown cats. Suddenly Stoneteller signaled with his tail for silence. “Enough! We will try Brambleclaw's plan. He and I will choose the cats to seek out the intruders tomorrow. But if the plan fails, then…” His voice trailed off, and he bowed his head. Lionpaw had to strain to hear his last few words. “If it fails, then the Tribe can no longer make its home in these mountains.”