Stick leaped down from the wall and faced her. “It’s Red.”
The gray she-cat gave him a cautious look. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?” The she-cat’s claws slid out. “You promised you would look after her.”
“Velvet, I didn’t come here to fight,” Stick mewed wearily. “I know you made your choice, but our daughter needs our help.”
Velvet paused for a heartbeat, then waved her tail toward the low-growing branches of a bush. “Okay, come under here. I don’t want my housefolk seeing you.”
Stick pressed his belly to the ground and slid underneath the bush behind Velvet. Memories pressed around him, clutched in the thick leafy scents. “Do you remember catching your first mouse here? You said you’d never tasted anything so good.”
Velvet flicked her ears. “That was a long time ago.”
“I know. And then you made me go into your nest and try your Twoleg food, and you thought it was so funny when I spat it out.” Stick let out a faint sigh. “How did we grow so far apart?”
“We share our daughter, nothing else,” Velvet replied coldly. “I thought you came to talk about her?”
“I did. There’s a problem.” As briefly as he could, Stick told his former mate about Dodge and his followers, how they had moved into his part of the Twolegplace and were terrorizing the other cats, not allowing them to hunt. While he was talking, he looked in vain for any spark of sympathy in Velvet’s eyes.
“You chose to live like that, fighting for your food like foxes,” she meowed when Stick had finished. “You can’t stop other cats from moving in.”
“That’s not the point!” Stick snapped. “I’d be willing to share prey in a fair fight, but these cats seem intent on taking everything. Including Red.”
Velvet’s eyes stretched wide. “Have they stolen her?”
“Not exactly. But I think that Red has become… attached… to one of Dodge’s cats.”
“You mean she’s fallen in love with a cat who lives by a different set of rules?” Mockery glinted in Velvet’s blue eyes. “You wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that, would you?”
Stick felt his fur prick along his spine. “It’s more than that. I think Red helped those cats to plan a Twoleg attack on the alley where we sleep.”
“Red would never do that!” Velvet hissed. Stick wasn’t sure; he knew his doubt must have shown in his eyes, because the gray she-cat went on, “Being in love doesn’t change who you are! Do you distrust your own daughter, just because she has feelings?” More gently, she added, “Stick, you and I stayed true to ourselves, didn’t we? I never told you I would give up my home for you, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love you. I gave you our daughter, remember?”
Stick looked down at the earth beneath his front paws. “And I’ve lost her!”
“No, you haven’t,” Velvet meowed, stretching out her tail-tip to touch him on the shoulder. “You know exactly where she is. Go talk to her; maybe she doesn’t even know about the attack in the alley.”
“Oh, she knows.” Stick slid his claws into the soil. “She was there—and she escaped just in time.”
Velvet’s blue eyes clouded. “You’re assuming too much.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re planning to attack these cats, aren’t you? Turn your daughter into a scrap of food to be fought over? Red won’t thank you for that. She knows her own mind.”
And you know me—too well, Stick thought ruefully. “These cats know only about fighting.”
“No. You know only about fighting.” Velvet started to crawl backward, retreating out of the shelter of the bush.
“Wait!” Stick called. “I… I thought you could talk to Red.”
“Me?” Velvet’s blue eyes chilled. “Oh, no. My life is here, with my housefolk. Red knows where I am if she wants to see me.”
“You can’t hide here with your kittypet slop while our daughter is in danger!”
“Why can’t I? Are you going to force me to come with you? I’ve told you, Stick, what we did was a mistake. I will never understand the way you live.”
“But—but you let me take Red!” Stick hissed.
“I like my life the way it is,” Velvet replied. “A kit would have changed that. You told me that Red would be safe, and I believe that she is. It’s only your stubbornness and pride that put her in danger.” Stick opened his jaws to protest, but Velvet swept on. “You’re just angry that she could do something that you don’t want her to. Leave her be, or she’ll end up hating you.”
Not waiting for a reply, she slid out from under the bush and headed for her nest. By the time Stick scrambled out after her, she had vanished.
Shaking leaf-mold from his pelt, Stick climbed the wall again and leaped down into the alley. As he landed, he spotted Shorty sitting a few tail-lengths away, his stumpy tail wrapped over his paws.
“You followed me!” Stick snarled.
Shorty cocked his head to one side. “We’re in this together, Stick, whether you like it or not. What did Velvet say?”
Stick padded along the alley to sit beside his friend. “She thinks I should leave Red to make up her own mind.”
“But it’s more than that!” Shorty meowed, shocked. “Our cats are being hurt, and we’ve lost Percy, all thanks to Dodge.”
Stick gave him a long look. “I’m not going to let Velvet think we’re weak, okay?”
Shorty let out an impatient huff, but made no comment. After a moment he went on, “Let’s go. I’ve found a place where we can spy on Dodge’s camp.”
Stick narrowed his eyes in surprise. “Where?”
“Follow me.”
The two cats trekked across the Twolegplace until they reached the edge, where spindly trees grew up to the bank of a dirty shallow stream. Stick gazed out across the sluggish yellow water, wrinkling his nose at the scent of the Twoleg waste that choked the current. There was a scent of cat, too, coming most strongly from a heap of Twoleg boxes tumbled at the water’s edge; some of them leaned over the stream, their flimsy material growing soggy as the waves lapped against them.
“That’s where Dodge lives?” Stick murmured. “It’s just about right for a mange-pelt like him!”
“Come up here,” Shorty urged him, waving his tail at a small wooden den a few fox-lengths from the river. “We don’t want Dodge to catch us.”
He scrambled up the wall to the flat roof of the den, and Stick followed, hissing with annoyance as splinters of wood stuck in his belly fur. He flattened himself to the roof beside Shorty and peered over the edge.
At first there were no cats to be seen. Then the side of one of the boxes flapped and Misha and Skipper emerged into the open. Stick let out a low growl as he remembered Misha’s claws slashing across Percy’s face, ripping out his eye. The two cats padded a little farther up the bank to where another of the boxes cast a heavy patch of shade. Stick stiffened as he made out movement and the glint of eyes in the shadow.
“Dodge is there!” he hissed.
Misha and Skipper stood in front of Dodge for a few heartbeats. Stick could hear the murmur of their voices, but he was too far away to hear what they were saying. Then he glimpsed movement among the trees on the other side of the stream. His claws slid out, digging into the wooden roof, and he bunched his muscles as Red and the gray-brown tom Harley came into sight. Red was carrying the limp body of a squirrel.
“Steady,” Shorty whispered, laying his tail across Stick’s shoulders.
Though Stick burned to jump down into Dodge’s camp, yowling a challenge, he watched in silence as Red and Harley crossed the stream by a set of stepping-stones. Red was hanging back as if she was nervous—and so she should be, going into Dodge’s camp!—but Harley seemed to be encouraging her.