Outcast

“The other cat is called Rock,” Jaypaw went on. “He’s old—I mean, really old. He was in the cave. He showed me that we would escape, and he helped me think of the way to do it.”

Hollypaw took a deep breath. Perhaps there was nothing to be afraid of. If Jaypaw was right, then neither they nor the kits would be alive if it weren’t for the help of the ancient cats.

“Why do you want to go back now?” she asked.

“I want to know why they don’t talk to me anymore,” Jaypaw mewed miserably. “Besides, they lived here once, too.

They might be able to tell us the best places to hunt or shelter.”

“We can find those things for ourselves.” Hollypaw looked out of the mouth of the burrow. The rain had stopped; above the trees ragged patches of blue were opening up as the last of the clouds scudded across the sky. Sunlight sparkled on raindrops, making the whole forest shimmer. “We should get back to camp,” she added.

“But don’t you understand?” Jaypaw’s voice rose. “It’s important, I know it is.”

For a moment Hollypaw was tempted to agree with him.

When Blackstar had mentioned the ancient cats, she too had felt their fascination. She would like to know more about them—but not enough to risk her life or Jaypaw’s.

“You’re important too,” she mewed. “Your Clan needs you, Jaypaw. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger when there’s no need.”

“All right,” Jaypaw muttered. He had a mutinous look on his face. Hollypaw stifled a sigh; she knew that look well.

Jaypaw might agree with her now, but he would go on doing exactly what he wanted. She gave him a nudge. “Let’s go.”

Jaypaw rose to his paws and shook loose earth off his pelt.

Hollypaw led the way into the open, setting down her paws carefully to avoid the worst of the wet grass.

“Hollypaw?”

She halted and glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

“You won’t tell any cat what I just told you?”

Hollypaw wasn’t sure how to reply. She wanted to go straight to Firestar or Leafpool and tell them about his crazy obsession with cats that died out long ago. If any cat could stop Jaypaw from risking his life, it would be his Clan leader or his mentor. But Jaypaw was her brother, and she would always be loyal to him first.

“No, I won’t.” She sighed. “I promise.”

* * *

“Mouse dung!” Hollypaw let out a cry of frustration as she leaped for the mouse, only to see it dart away from her claws and slip into safety down a hole. That was the second piece of prey she’d lost; she was starting to feel as if her paws didn’t belong to her anymore.

“Hollypaw, you’ve got to put your paws down lightly.”

Brackenfur never lost his temper with her, but even he was sounding impatient. “Remember that a mouse will feel your paw steps before it hears you or scents you.”

“Yes, I know,” Hollypaw mewed. That’s the first thing an apprentice learns about hunting. “I’m sorry.”

Brackenfur, Brook, and Stormfur had taken all the apprentices into the forest for a hunting session. Hollypaw wasn’t sure which of them had suggested making it into a competi-tion. Lionpaw was winning, with one of the biggest squirrels Hollypaw had ever seen, but all the others had amassed a good pile of fresh-kill. All she had managed to catch was one miserable shrew.

“Is there anything bothering you?” Brackenfur asked.

“You’re just not concentrating today.”

“No,” Hollypaw lied. “I’m fine.”

I would be, she told herself, if I wasn’t worrying about wanting to be Clan leader. Just because that’s what Tigerstar wanted doesn’t mean it’s wrong, does it? I know I’m his kin, but I’d never do what he did to gain power. And what about Jaypaw? If he gets himself killed looking for those ancient cats, it’ll be my fault!

Brook touched her nose sympathetically to Hollypaw’s ear.

“I had a lot of trouble when I first came here,” she admitted. “I was used to hunting on bare mountain slopes, and I couldn’t get the hang of how to hunt in the forest. One thing Stormfur taught me is that sometimes it helps to slide your paws forward while you’re stalking. That way a mouse can’t feel your paw steps. Like this,” she added, rubbing her paws softly over the moss.

“I never thought of that,” Hollypaw meowed. “I’ll give it a try.”

“It’s important to stay away from long grasses and fern, too,” Brook went on. “If you brush against them, the moving shadow will scare off the prey.”

Hollypaw nodded; she had known that, but with everything else on her mind she had forgotten.

“You’ll soon get the hang of it again,” the tabby she-cat assured her. “You’d be a great hunter in the mountains, because you have strong back legs for leaping.”

“You need to leap when you’re hunting?” Cinderpaw asked, padding up to listen.