Now Jaypaw could hear the beat of paws on rock and pick up unfamiliar cat scent: three or four of them, he guessed. He heard aggressive hisses from the warriors around him.
Then a strange voice spoke. “What have we here?”
Chapter 19
Hollypaw slid out her claws, muscles tensed to spring into battle. If she hadn’t yowled like that, they might have been able to sneak past the trespassers. At least there were only four strange cats confronting them. If it came to a fight, there was no way the newcomers would win. They might have had an easy time with the Tribe, but they would soon find out what it was like to mess with trained Clan warriors!
The cat who had spoken was a large tom; dark stripes rippled on his silver tabby fur and his insolent amber eyes traveled lazily from cat to cat. His three companions pressed up close behind him: a skinny light brown tom with large pointed ears that swiveled alertly back and forth, a dark-brown-and-white she-cat with green eyes, and a young tortoiseshell with white streaks like lightning on her face.
“I’ve seen you before,” the silver tabby taunted Talon.
“What are you doing, so far away from the waterfall? I didn’t think you hunted in these parts anymore.”
The skinny brown cat gave him a nudge in the shoulder.
“Do you think they’re scared, Stripes?”
Stripes blinked slowly. “Flick, you could be right. I reckon they’ve realized that the prey around here belongs to us.” His tongue swiped across his jaws. “That was a great rabbit I had this morning. Good and fat, more than I could eat.”
“You should show more respect for prey!” Crowfeather snapped.
Flick spat. “Who are you to tell us what to do?”
Crowfeather’s lip curled to bare his teeth in a snarl. “Want to find out?”
Brambleclaw touched the WindClan warrior’s shoulder with his tail tip, a warning gesture. “We’re not looking for a fight,” he murmured.
Crowfeather cast him an angry glance but said no more, though his claws scraped the hard ground and his tail twitched.
“What are you going to do with them, Stripes?” the skinny cat asked.
Before the silver tabby could answer, Night took a pace forward. She was stiff-legged with fury, her pelt bristling.
“You’ve no right to do anything with us!” she hissed. “You’ve no right to come here and steal our prey.”
“Rights?” The brown-and-white she-cat spoke for the first time. “Who gave you the right in the first place?”
“Well said, Flora,” the skinny cat snickered.
The brown-and-white cat’s question cut across Hollypaw’s fury. She had been ready to fight on behalf of the Tribe. This was their territory, watched over by their warrior ancestors! But Flora’s question didn’t have an answer. Maybe the Tribe cats didn’t have the right to drive out the intruders.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Brambleclaw mewed quietly, resting his tail on Night’s bristling shoulders. “We’re just traveling to the waterfall. You should let us go in peace.”
Stripes and Flick glanced at each other, then Stripes took a pace back, gesturing up the valley with his tail. “We’re not trying to stop you.”
Oh, no? Hollypaw thought. Their approach had been aggressive, bounding over the rocks with lashing tails and pelts fluffed out, until they realized that they had encountered too many cats to fight with any hope of winning. They could pretend all they liked, but she knew they would have attacked if they had met the Tribe cats on their own.
Brambleclaw dipped his head with cold politeness and led his group onward up the valley. The intruders watched them go, mockery in the eyes of the two toms. For a heartbeat Hollypaw met the gaze of the young tortoiseshell, who had waited a little way behind the others, watching but not speaking. If she had been a Clan cat, she would have been an apprentice. She might have been my friend.
Breezepaw was clearly seeing nothing but enemies. As he stalked past the intruders he lashed his tail, letting out a furious spit.
Instantly his father nudged his haunches, thrusting him ahead. “Are you mouse-brained? Do you want to cause a fight?”
“They’re asking for it,” Breezepaw mumbled.
Hollypaw noticed that Lionpaw still had his claws unsheathed, as if for a couple of mouse tails he would have sprung at the newcomers, but he didn’t make his hostility as obvious as Breezepaw.
All the way up the valley Hollypaw felt the eyes of the intruders boring into her back. She let out a sigh of relief when she rounded a jutting spur of rock and they were left behind. Around her she could feel the other cats beginning to relax, too.
“This is dreadful!” Brook exclaimed. “Do these cats think they can tell you where you can go? Are the Tribe cats prisoners in their own cave?”
“It’s not quite as bad as that,” Night replied.
“But they thought they could order us around! Can you still get out to hunt?”
Talon padded up to Brook’s side. “It’s true, the intruders are getting more and more confident. They come right up to the waterfall to take prey now.”
“They know we can’t stop them,” Night added bitterly.
“What does Stoneteller think?” Brook asked.
Talon shrugged. “He says we shouldn’t challenge them, for our own safety.”
What good is that? Hollypaw wondered. Stoneteller is the Tribe’s leader. He should do something!
Brook shook her head, dropping back a few paces so that she could brush pelts with Stormfur as they continued up the valley. The gray warrior had been silent through the encounter with the intruders. His eyes were full of sorrow; Hollypaw guessed he was remembering the battle he had led the Tribe into, and the cats who had lost their lives.
Scarlet streaked the sky as the sun went down. The jutting mountain peaks cast deep shadows; in the open the rocks looked as if they were bathed with blood. Hollypaw shivered, imagining she could hear the shrieks of cats dying in battle.
A ridge of broken rock blocked the entrance to the valley.
Hollypaw reached the top after a hard scramble and stood looking out across a range of bare rock and plunging precipices, as far as she could see in all directions. A stiff breeze ruffled her fur, and she tried to dig her claws into the rock to keep her balance. She couldn’t imagine where cats might live in this stony wilderness.
Talon padded toward one end of the ridge, overlooking a shelf of flat rock. “This way,” he called.
The other cats began to follow him, except for Breezepaw, who bounded off to one side. “This way looks quicker!”
Hollypaw rolled her eyes. You don’t know where you’re going, mouse-brain!
Almost at once a terrified yowl burst from the WindClan apprentice. He was sliding forward, scrabbling frantically to stop himself. Hollypaw saw that a chasm split the top of the ridge, hidden from sight in the shadows.
She darted across to help Breezepaw, but Crowfeather raced past her. He fastened his teeth in Breezepaw’s tail and dragged him backward until he could stand safely on the flat top of the ridge.
Breezepaw let out a screech of pain. “My sore tail!”
“Tough,” Crowfeather snarled. “Next time, think before you start showing off, and do what the Tribe cats tell you.”
Breezepaw glared at his father, then padded after the others with his head and tail drooping.