Hollyleaf’s Story

Fallen Leaves shook his head. “Not yet.” He walked over to a corner and came back rolling a large flat stone with his muzzle. He nudged it to the edge of the wet line left by splashing waves. “We’ll use this as a marker to see if the river rises any more.”

Hollyleaf ran her paw over the stone. It felt smooth, like an egg. “That’s a good idea,” she commented.

“It’s what the sharpclaws told me to do,” Fallen Leaves meowed. “Before I came down here for my initiation.”

Hollyleaf looked up at him sharply. Fallen Leaves had mentioned once before that he had gotten lost in the tunnels while training to be a sharpclaw, which seemed to be the same as a Clan warrior. He wouldn’t tell her anything else about his Clan, or Tribe, or whatever his kin had called themselves.

“If you went back now,” she mewed gently, “you’d be one of the greatest sharpclaws ever. You may have gotten lost once, but you know these tunnels better than any cat! If finding your way through the tunnels is supposed to teach you to be strong, brave, and independent, you are all of those things! You’d be a hero!”

Fallen Leaves stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Go back?” he hissed. “I can’t go back! Don’t you understand? It’s too late!” Shaking with distress, he whirled around and raced into the tunnel that led to WindClan, the one they called the moor-tunnel.

“Wait!” Hollyleaf called, running after him. But she stopped when she reached the edge of the river-cave. All she had were questions for Fallen Leaves, and she didn’t want to make him more upset. The thought flashed in her mind that she might not be the only one fleeing from a terrible secret. She had never told Fallen Leaves what had happened with Ashfur; perhaps she had more in common with her new companion than she realized.

She turned and padded back across the cave. The entrance to the woods-tunnel was on the far side of the river, and today it took a much bigger leap to clear the gully. Hollyleaf yelped as her hind paws splashed into the edge of the water and showered her belly fur with icy droplets. As she entered the tunnel she broke into a run to warm herself up.

The rough gray walls on each side emerged from the darkness as she neared the entrance. The wind was blowing directly into the tunnel, filling Hollyleaf’s mouth with scents of drying leaves and brittle grass. She padded closer until the light spilled over her paws. She lifted up one and looked at her pad in surprise. It was pale and tough from moons of running on stone. Suddenly Hollyleaf longed to feel soft, green grass under her feet, and to see the sky, vast and full of light, above her. She felt herself pulled toward the mouth of the tunnel as if she were a twig on a river. Outside!

The light grew stronger and Hollyleaf screwed up her eyes. It wasn’t sunshine—this light was cool and gray—but it was brighter than anything she’d seen in a long while. The entrance to the tunnel was a circle of dazzling white, too painful to look at directly. Suddenly there was a crashing noise beyond the brightness, the sound of branches cracking beneath heavy paws. Then a volley of barking, mixed with a high-pitched yipping. Hollyleaf winced as the noise hit her ears; she was used to the heavy silence of the tunnels. She shrank back against the wall, too startled to know which way to run. There was an explosion of paw steps at the entrance and a huge dark shape burst through the light. At the same time a wave of stench hit Hollyleaf’s nose. Fox!

Fear rooted her paws to the ground. The intruder crashed into her, bounced off the opposite wall, then turned and stared back the way it had come, taking no notice of Hollyleaf cowering in the corner. A head was thrust through the circle of light at the mouth of the tunnel. A long pink tongue hung from dripping jaws, and huge ears flopped down on either side of mean yellow eyes. The fox let out a yelp and scrabbled backward, squashing Hollyleaf against the wall of the tunnel. She held her breath, dizzy with terror. The dog at the entrance growled and took a step toward them. It blocked out the light so that its features vanished and all Hollyleaf could see was the faint outline of its massive shoulders. The fox crouched down, filling Hollyleaf’s nose with soft, tickly fur. She longed to sneeze but couldn’t risk being discovered.

There was a shout from outside—a deep Twoleg voice, raised in anger—and the dog’s ears twitched. A moment later it jerked backward, and Hollyleaf squinted into the glare to see the Twoleg holding the dog’s collar with one fat, pink paw. The dog whined as it was dragged away. The fox relaxed, giving Hollyleaf just enough room to slide gently back. It was only a cub, no taller than she was, and its fur smelled of milk and earth from its den.

Suddenly Hollyleaf heard a fierce whisper. “What’s happening? Are you all right?” Fallen Leaves was standing just around the curve in the tunnel. She ran toward him. His eyes gleamed like moons in the half light.