Hollyleaf’s Story

Leaf-fall had settled over the woods and the ground was covered in a layer of brittle red-and-orange leaves. As Hollyleaf watched from the mouth of the tunnel, the breeze snatched another flurry of leaves from a beech tree and dangled them in the air before letting them float down to the floor. A voice behind made her jump.

“Are you looking for the cub?”

Hollyleaf spun around, her fur pricking with guilt. “Fallen Leaves! How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see how much you want to be out there,” meowed the ginger-and-white tom.

Hollyleaf stood to the side, leaving room for him to join her at the entrance, but Fallen Leaves stayed where he was, with his paws hidden in shadow.

“Are you hoping the cub will come back?” Fallen Leaves teased, but his voice sounded hollow in the echoing tunnel.

“Of course not,” Hollyleaf meowed. “I know he belongs out there, in the woods, with his mother.”

“And what about you?” Fallen Leaves pressed softly. “Do you belong out there, with your family?”

Hollyleaf turned her face away. “I have no family,” she growled.

“We all have family,” sighed Fallen Leaves.

“Really? Then where are your kin?” Hollyleaf challenged. “You say you came from a large group of cats, but what happened to them? We’ve never seen any traces of other cats living near here.”

Fallen Leaves looked down at his paws. “They left,” he whispered.

“Then let’s go look for them!” Hollyleaf declared. “There must be some signs of where they’ve gone.”

To her surprise, Fallen Leaves’s eyes stretched wide with horror. “No! I must stay here! If I leave, how will my mother know where to find me? She’ll come for me one day. I know she will.”

Hollyleaf fought down a spurt of impatience. “But we could find her first! Come with me. I’ll look after you.”

“I don’t need looking after,” Fallen Leaves hissed. “I just need to stay here. You go if you want. I can’t leave.” He turned and stalked into the darkness. Hollyleaf stared after him, feeling wretched. So many things he said didn’t make sense. Why hadn’t his mother come looking for him before? She must have watched him go into the tunnels, so why didn’t she start searching for him as soon as he didn’t come out? But Fallen Leaves never gave a straight answer. He seemed determined to be as mysterious as possible, and sometimes Hollyleaf wondered if he even wanted company in his underground home. Well, I don’t have to stay here with him. She lifted her head and let the scents of the forest drift over her muzzle: earth, leaves, squirrel, and the musky scent of a vole hiding among some pine logs… What was she doing, lurking in the tunnels when she could be living outside, where she belonged?

Hollyleaf raced after Fallen Leaves. When she burst into the river-cave, he was curled beneath the rocky ledge with his nose tucked under his tail. He wasn’t asleep, though; his eyes were wide open, gleaming in the pale gray light.

“You saved my life,” Hollyleaf blurted out, skidding to a halt in front of him. “And I will always be grateful for that. But you’re right. I need to be outside, eating squirrels and mice instead of fish, where I can see the sky and feel the wind in my fur—”

“Then go,” Fallen Leaves interrupted her. “No one said you had to stay here.”

Hollyleaf stared at him. Did he care so little about her that he wouldn’t even try to make her stay? Well, she didn’t need him either! “Good,” she snapped. “I just thought I’d let you know that I’m going in case you wonder where I am.”

Fallen Leaves shrugged and flicked the end of his tail over his nose again. Hollyleaf had the distinct feeling that she’d been dismissed. Trying not to feel wounded, she turned and padded back into the woods-tunnel. She walked slowly at first, half-expecting Fallen Leaves to come racing after her, begging her to change her mind. But the shadows behind her stayed obstinately silent.

The wind was colder than Hollyleaf remembered, pricking her fur even though she tried to stay in the shelter of the widest trunks. The light was fading and shadows spread from the base of every tree, but somehow this darkness was less comfortable than being in the tunnels and Hollyleaf found herself tripping over every fallen twig and clump of moss. Gritting her teeth, she picked her way into a dense thicket of brambles. Had thorns always dragged her fur like this? And were the leafless trees always so noisy as they clattered their branches together? Hollyleaf’s ears were too full to pick up the movements of any prey, and her eyesight was oddly fuzzy when she tried to look farther than a fox-length. She kept telling herself that this was just the same as ThunderClan territory, but it wasn’t at all, really: There were no familiar scent markers or paths through the bushes, no sign that cats had ever been here before.