along the alley. The wooden fence gave way to another wall of red stone; Yellowpaw’s heart raced; she felt as though she was padding along at the bottom of a crevasse. Eventually the alley led into an open space surrounded by shabby Twoleg dens. The reek of crow-food was joined by other scents: monsters and a smell that reminded Yellowpaw of a blackened stump in the forest that Deerleap told her had been struck by lightning moons ago.
Yellowpaw blinked as she spotted movement and the gleam of eyes in the shadows. There are other cats here!
“Just think!” she whispered, turning to Raggedpelt. “You might be about to meet your father!”
Raggedpelt didn’t reply, but his eyes were troubled, and Yellowpaw could feel his pelt bristling against hers.
The three kittypets crowded around Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt, urging them into the middle of the open space. At the same time, more cats began slinking out from the shadows. Some of them were wearing collars, but others looked more like rogues, with skinny bodies and flea-bitten pelts. Yellowpaw was uncomfortably aware that they were way outnumbered if it came to a fight.
“These are cats from the forest,” Marmalade announced. “They want to ask some questions.”
“Hi.” Yellowpaw felt hot and uncomfortable to be the focus of so many staring eyes. “I’m Yellowpaw, and this is Raggedpelt. We come from ShadowClan,” she ended proudly.
“Never heard of it,” a black she-cat sniffed.
“Are you really from the forest?” A gray tom padded up to Yellowpaw and her Clanmate, sniffing at them. “Yeah, you smell of trees.”
“Get away from them, Boulder,” Pixie snarled, giving the gray tom a shove.
“But I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live beyond the fence,” Boulder protested.
“Sit down and be quiet.” The gray tom was interrupted by a black-and-white she-cat, so old that her muzzle was grizzled and all her teeth had gone. Yellowpaw tried not to stare. She looks even older than our elders! “No one wants to listen to you meowing nonstop about the forest,” the old cat hissed at Boulder.
Boulder sat down, looking annoyed. Yellowpaw guessed that the old cat was some kind of leader, though this collection of cats didn’t look at all like a Clan. Maybe they look up to her because she’s so old .
She spotted a black she-cat rolling her eyes, and heard her whisper to Boulder, “Don’t let Jay worry you. She’s just a bossy old furball.”
“Questions, you said?” the old cat, Jay, rasped. “All right, you can ask one . Let’s hear it.”
Raggedpelt nudged Yellowpaw. “I told you this was a dumb idea. Let’s go.”
“No!” Yellowpaw gave Raggedpelt a furious glare. “One question is all it will take. We’re looking for a cat who knew a forest cat called Featherstorm,” she continued. “We—”
“Speak up, can’t you?” Jay twitched her tail irritably. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you young cats. You all mumble into your fur.”
“Sorry.” Yellowpaw raised her voice. “A cat who knew Featherstorm?”
A small tabby-and-white she-cat flinched as Yellowpaw spoke the name, but she didn’t say anything. Jay shook her head, and all the other cats did the same.
Raggedpelt looked discouraged. “I guess that’s it, then,” he mewed.
Marmalade stepped forward. “You got your answer. You can leave now.”
Pixie and Red padded up to join them again.
“We don’t need an escort,” Raggedpelt snapped.
“We aren’t offering one.” Marmalade slid out his claws. “I said now .”
The other Twolegplace cats were gathering behind Marmalade. Yellowpaw could see the hostility in their eyes and the anger in their bristling fur. “It’s time we went,” she muttered.
Raggedpelt’s fur was bristling too, and he drew back his lips in a snarl. “No kittypet tells me what to do.”
“Mouse-brain! There’s no point in spilling their blood.” Yellowpaw shoved his shoulder hard. “What are you going
Yellowpaw blinked as she spotted movement and the gleam of eyes in the shadows. There are other cats here!
“Just think!” she whispered, turning to Raggedpelt. “You might be about to meet your father!”
Raggedpelt didn’t reply, but his eyes were troubled, and Yellowpaw could feel his pelt bristling against hers.
The three kittypets crowded around Yellowpaw and Raggedpelt, urging them into the middle of the open space. At the same time, more cats began slinking out from the shadows. Some of them were wearing collars, but others looked more like rogues, with skinny bodies and flea-bitten pelts. Yellowpaw was uncomfortably aware that they were way outnumbered if it came to a fight.
“These are cats from the forest,” Marmalade announced. “They want to ask some questions.”
“Hi.” Yellowpaw felt hot and uncomfortable to be the focus of so many staring eyes. “I’m Yellowpaw, and this is Raggedpelt. We come from ShadowClan,” she ended proudly.
“Never heard of it,” a black she-cat sniffed.
“Are you really from the forest?” A gray tom padded up to Yellowpaw and her Clanmate, sniffing at them. “Yeah, you smell of trees.”
“Get away from them, Boulder,” Pixie snarled, giving the gray tom a shove.
“But I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live beyond the fence,” Boulder protested.
“Sit down and be quiet.” The gray tom was interrupted by a black-and-white she-cat, so old that her muzzle was grizzled and all her teeth had gone. Yellowpaw tried not to stare. She looks even older than our elders! “No one wants to listen to you meowing nonstop about the forest,” the old cat hissed at Boulder.
Boulder sat down, looking annoyed. Yellowpaw guessed that the old cat was some kind of leader, though this collection of cats didn’t look at all like a Clan. Maybe they look up to her because she’s so old .
She spotted a black she-cat rolling her eyes, and heard her whisper to Boulder, “Don’t let Jay worry you. She’s just a bossy old furball.”
“Questions, you said?” the old cat, Jay, rasped. “All right, you can ask one . Let’s hear it.”
Raggedpelt nudged Yellowpaw. “I told you this was a dumb idea. Let’s go.”
“No!” Yellowpaw gave Raggedpelt a furious glare. “One question is all it will take. We’re looking for a cat who knew a forest cat called Featherstorm,” she continued. “We—”
“Speak up, can’t you?” Jay twitched her tail irritably. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you young cats. You all mumble into your fur.”
“Sorry.” Yellowpaw raised her voice. “A cat who knew Featherstorm?”
A small tabby-and-white she-cat flinched as Yellowpaw spoke the name, but she didn’t say anything. Jay shook her head, and all the other cats did the same.
Raggedpelt looked discouraged. “I guess that’s it, then,” he mewed.
Marmalade stepped forward. “You got your answer. You can leave now.”
Pixie and Red padded up to join them again.
“We don’t need an escort,” Raggedpelt snapped.
“We aren’t offering one.” Marmalade slid out his claws. “I said now .”
The other Twolegplace cats were gathering behind Marmalade. Yellowpaw could see the hostility in their eyes and the anger in their bristling fur. “It’s time we went,” she muttered.
Raggedpelt’s fur was bristling too, and he drew back his lips in a snarl. “No kittypet tells me what to do.”
“Mouse-brain! There’s no point in spilling their blood.” Yellowpaw shoved his shoulder hard. “What are you going
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