Fuzz shot out the cat door a few moments later, his face as brightly confused as ever. He sprang up to the top of the gate and teetered precariously, gawking at me and Violet.
“Who’s that?” he exclaimed. “She’s the most beautiful cat I’ve ever seen! Why is she so sad? Oh, my whiskers, is she bleeding too? What on earth is wrong with your Twolegs? Why don’t they take better care of you?”
“Fuzz, I need your help,” I panted. “I need your Twoleg to take care of Violet for me.”
“Where are you going?” Fuzz asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
Until he said that, I hadn’t really thought about it. I knew I couldn’t stay anywhere near BloodClan. She would be safe only here in this Twoleg nest—and she would be safe only if I was far away. Then perhaps Scourge and Bone would forget about us.
“The far side of the forest,” I meowed. “Please will you take care of her?”
“Sure,” Fuzz meowed. “She doesn’t look like she eats much tuna.
Maybe she’ll share hers with me.” He tilted his head at Violet.
The door opened behind him, spilling yellow light into the garden. I bent my head to whisper in Violet’s ear.
“You’ll be safe now,” I meowed. “Remember, I love you.”
She blinked up at me. “I love you too, Barley.”
“I’ll always be your brother,” I meowed. “However far apart we are.”
“Bye, Justbarley!” Fuzz meowed.
I dashed across the Thunderpath and up a tree. From there, I watched as the Twoleg swung open the gate and saw Violet. He made a sad, shocked sound, then leaned over to gently pick her up. From the way he cradled her as they went back inside, I could tell that he would take care of her. I didn’t know why I felt so sure we could trust him, but I did.
Fuzz scampered after them. His long, fluffy tail whisking through the door was the last I saw of the Twoleg nest before I turned and ran swiftly toward the woods.
I traveled quickly through the trees. I could smell other cats around me, but I was afraid they would be like BloodClan, so I didn’t stop. I crossed a stream and ran through a clearing guarded by four tall oak trees. I scrambled up a rocky slope and found myself on an open moor, where I ran even faster, as if my life depended on it. I wanted to put as much distance as I could between myself and BloodClan.
Finally, as the sun was rising over the distant hills, I came to a large Twoleg nest. It smelled of hay and mice and sunshine. I could tell after a short exploration that Twolegs came here often but didn’t stay long. Something about it felt safe and friendly. Nothing could have been more different from the dark alleys and cold puddles of Twolegplace.
I dug my way into a pile of hay and curled up, breathing in the sweet warmth.
I would be safe here. Safe and free to live my own life. Maybe one day I’d go back and look for Violet—or maybe she’d be happy living with Fuzz and his Twolegs. Maybe she’d get plump on tuna and sleep on the bed with the Twolegs, purring contentedly. The important thing was we’d escaped from BloodClan.
Scourge couldn’t hurt us anymore.
The Tribe of Rushing Water
Tribe character: Smaller and leaner than forest cats. They smear their fur with mud for camouflage against the rocks. Tribe cats are born as either cave-guards or prey-hunters and are known as to-bes while training. Their warrior ancestors belong to the Tribe of Endless Hunting, cats who appear in whispers in the leaves and the pattern of water over stones. Their most sacred place is the Cave of Pointed Stones, where the Healer may interpret signs in the way rain drips from the roof and in the shadows of the stalagmites and stalactites cast by moonlight.
Habitat: The mountains.
Camp: A rocky path leads behind a waterfall into a huge cave, as broad as the waterfall and screened from the outside world by the rushing water. The cave burrows under the mountain. Narrow passages lead off on either side, one to the Cave of the Pointed Stones, one to the nursery. Cats sleep in hollows on the cave floor lined with moss and eagle or heron feathers. A trickle of water runs down a mossy rock into a small, clear pool, providing fresh drinking water.
Leader (known as Healer): Teller of the Pointed Stones, called Stoneteller, is a wise old brown tabby cat who serves as both leader and medicine cat. He is responsible for reading the signs in the Cave of Pointed Stones, and he guides his Tribe according to the messages from the Tribe of Endless Hunting.
There are strangers in our cave tonight.
They are returning to their home in the forest, but they must not linger there long. They say that a terrible danger is destroying their home. Soon all the forest cats must go on a journey to no cat knows where…
We are struggling with a terrible danger too. I cannot tell the strangers about it. I fear they would leave the mountains if they knew.
And yet one of them must save us from Sharptooth.
I have read the ripple of shadows on the rock wall, the drops of water in the moonlight. I have seen bright gray fur flash in the pool.
The signs are clear. A silver cat, not from this Tribe, will come to save us from Sharptooth—that is what the Tribe of Endless Hunting has promised.
The six cats arrived wet and shivering in our cave. They are scrawny, tired, and suspicious, and one of them is badly injured. I have heard them whispering about us—they don’t realize how good our hearing is. They can see that we are afraid of something.
I believe the silver cat must be the one called Stormfur. His fur gleams with the dark silver of the moon when it is just a claw in the sky.
The dark tabby, the one called Brambleclaw, is their leader, although the small black cat and the tortoiseshell don’t hesitate to challenge him. Nor does the ginger she-cat named Squirrelpaw, yet I can see her respect for him in every ripple of her fur. There is something about those two—a destiny longer, darker, and more fraught with danger than I care to look at. But it does not affect my Tribe.
Once the strangers dried off, I saw there was another silver cat in the group—Stormfur’s sister, Feathertail. Could the prophecy refer to her instead? No, it must be Stormfur. He has a proud courage about him, a strength in those shoulders that would defeat any of my cave-guards.
Whatever he is going to do to save us, I hope it will be soon. My Tribe has lost so many cats already. And it is not only the lives of the dead cats that Sharptooth has taken. He has taken the pride, the joy, the fierce will to live of all my Tribe. We are but a shadow of a Tribe now, haunted by the flashing claws and teeth of a mindless killer.
I beseech you, Tribe of Endless Hunting. Guide the silver cat’s paws to save us from Sharptooth, so that we may have peace again.
Rogues and Loners
A rogue is a Clan cat who has been banished for crimes against the warrior code. These cats are usually hostile and live as out-laws on Clan territory or on the outskirts. Loners are cats who choose to live neither in Clans nor with Twolegs. They live and hunt alone. Loners can be friendly and even helpful to the Clan cats.
Barley: A black-and-white tom who left BloodClan to live as a loner in the forest. (See Barley Speaks: Flight from BloodClan.) His home is a warm barn north of WindClan territory. Warriors often pass through his farm on their way to Highstones, and so most of the Clans know of him. The Twolegs who run the farm don’t mind him living there, since he keeps down the rodent population.