grass with strong-smelling plants growing around the edges. Yellow light shone from the Twoleg den beyond. Everything was quiet.
But as soon as Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt dropped down onto the grass a flurry of barking split the silence. A door opened in the den and a small white dog shot out, still barking. A Twoleg appeared behind it, yowling at the dog as it raced toward the two cats. As if they shared the same thought, Raggedpelt and Yellowpaw split up, pelting in opposite directions. The dog skidded to a halt, not knowing which cat to chase first. By the time it plunged after Raggedpelt, the tabby tom had already reached the fence that separated this den from the next. He stood poised with his claws digging into the top of the fence, while the dog tried to jump up at him, whining in frustration.
Seeing that her Clanmate was safe, Yellowpaw bounded in a wide circle around the outside of the grass plot and scrambled up onto the fence a couple of fox-lengths farther along. Raggedpelt spotted her and gave her a nod.
“Shove off, flea-pelt,” he spat at the dog, then dropped down onto the next square of grass.
Yellowpaw joined him, hearing more yowling from the Twoleg as she leaped, and the two cats stopped, panting.
“What are you doing here, strangers?”
The low growl came out of the darkness. Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt spun around, looking for the cat who had spoken. A moment later a huge ginger tom paced forward into the light from the den. He was wearing a collar, but his muscles rippled as he walked, and a torn ear showed that he had experienced at least one fight. There was a hostile gleam in his eyes.
Yellowpaw gulped. That’s a kittypet?
Two more cats appeared from the darkness, flanking the ginger tom. One of them was what Yellowpaw had always pictured when she thought of kittypets: a fluffy white she-cat wearing a collar with a bell on it. The other was smaller and scrawny, with a badly groomed russet pelt. The softness of her features showed that she was barely out of kithood.
“You come from the forest, don’t you?” the fluffy cat mewed. Her tone was sharp. “You’re not welcome here.”
Yellowpaw forgot all her plans to ask clever questions. “We’re looking for a tom who might have known a forest cat called Featherstorm,” she blurted out.
The scrawny russet she-cat let out a hiss. “You have no right to ask us about anything!”
“Hang on a moment, Red.” The big ginger tom narrowed his eyes. “Maybe we should let them ask their questions.” His glittering gaze passed from Yellowpaw to Raggedpelt and back again. “That’s the best way to get rid of them. Otherwise, they’ll be back.”
Red looked furious. “Honestly, Marmalade, you’ll be making friends with dogs next! Why don’t we just chase them off with a scratch or two to remember us by?”
“We might not be the only cats to get scratched,” Raggedpelt growled, sliding out his claws.
“That’s enough!” The white she-cat raised her tail. “If we let you ask a question, will you leave?”
Instead of answering, Raggedpelt turned to Yellowpaw. “Is it worth asking?” he mewed.
“Don’t you want to know the truth?” Yellowpaw asked. He can’t give up now; we’ve come this far!
“Are you going to stand there arguing?” Red asked scathingly. “Or are you coming with us?”
“We’re coming,” Yellowpaw decided.
The huge ginger tom leaped onto the fence at the far side of the enclosed space. Joining him, Yellowpaw saw that a narrow alley lay beyond, with a high wall of red stone at the other side. There was a strong smell of crow-food.
As she paused at the top of the fence, the white she-cat gave her a push. “Get a move on.”
Yellowpaw lost her balance and fell ungracefully into the alleyway, barely managing to twist herself in midair so that she landed paws first.
“Well done, Pixie.” Red’s voice was cold as she looked down from the fence. “Show them who’s in charge.”
Marmalade led them
But as soon as Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt dropped down onto the grass a flurry of barking split the silence. A door opened in the den and a small white dog shot out, still barking. A Twoleg appeared behind it, yowling at the dog as it raced toward the two cats. As if they shared the same thought, Raggedpelt and Yellowpaw split up, pelting in opposite directions. The dog skidded to a halt, not knowing which cat to chase first. By the time it plunged after Raggedpelt, the tabby tom had already reached the fence that separated this den from the next. He stood poised with his claws digging into the top of the fence, while the dog tried to jump up at him, whining in frustration.
Seeing that her Clanmate was safe, Yellowpaw bounded in a wide circle around the outside of the grass plot and scrambled up onto the fence a couple of fox-lengths farther along. Raggedpelt spotted her and gave her a nod.
“Shove off, flea-pelt,” he spat at the dog, then dropped down onto the next square of grass.
Yellowpaw joined him, hearing more yowling from the Twoleg as she leaped, and the two cats stopped, panting.
“What are you doing here, strangers?”
The low growl came out of the darkness. Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt spun around, looking for the cat who had spoken. A moment later a huge ginger tom paced forward into the light from the den. He was wearing a collar, but his muscles rippled as he walked, and a torn ear showed that he had experienced at least one fight. There was a hostile gleam in his eyes.
Yellowpaw gulped. That’s a kittypet?
Two more cats appeared from the darkness, flanking the ginger tom. One of them was what Yellowpaw had always pictured when she thought of kittypets: a fluffy white she-cat wearing a collar with a bell on it. The other was smaller and scrawny, with a badly groomed russet pelt. The softness of her features showed that she was barely out of kithood.
“You come from the forest, don’t you?” the fluffy cat mewed. Her tone was sharp. “You’re not welcome here.”
Yellowpaw forgot all her plans to ask clever questions. “We’re looking for a tom who might have known a forest cat called Featherstorm,” she blurted out.
The scrawny russet she-cat let out a hiss. “You have no right to ask us about anything!”
“Hang on a moment, Red.” The big ginger tom narrowed his eyes. “Maybe we should let them ask their questions.” His glittering gaze passed from Yellowpaw to Raggedpelt and back again. “That’s the best way to get rid of them. Otherwise, they’ll be back.”
Red looked furious. “Honestly, Marmalade, you’ll be making friends with dogs next! Why don’t we just chase them off with a scratch or two to remember us by?”
“We might not be the only cats to get scratched,” Raggedpelt growled, sliding out his claws.
“That’s enough!” The white she-cat raised her tail. “If we let you ask a question, will you leave?”
Instead of answering, Raggedpelt turned to Yellowpaw. “Is it worth asking?” he mewed.
“Don’t you want to know the truth?” Yellowpaw asked. He can’t give up now; we’ve come this far!
“Are you going to stand there arguing?” Red asked scathingly. “Or are you coming with us?”
“We’re coming,” Yellowpaw decided.
The huge ginger tom leaped onto the fence at the far side of the enclosed space. Joining him, Yellowpaw saw that a narrow alley lay beyond, with a high wall of red stone at the other side. There was a strong smell of crow-food.
As she paused at the top of the fence, the white she-cat gave her a push. “Get a move on.”
Yellowpaw lost her balance and fell ungracefully into the alleyway, barely managing to twist herself in midair so that she landed paws first.
“Well done, Pixie.” Red’s voice was cold as she looked down from the fence. “Show them who’s in charge.”
Marmalade led them
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