Outcast

“Do you remember when we first came here?” Squirrelflight asked Brambleclaw.

The tabby tom’s whiskers twitched. “Will I ever forget it?”

“It was on the way back from the sun-drown-place,” Squirrelflight explained to the apprentices. “It had been raining hard and a surge of floodwater swept us into the stream. We went right over the waterfall and ended up in the pool below.”

“I thought I’d joined StarClan for sure,” Stormfur added, pausing to gaze down at the stream before setting his paws cautiously on the rocky slope.

Squirrelflight began to follow Stormfur, then glanced back to add, “Let’s see if we can all do it dry-pawed this time.

Come, Jaypaw, hold my tail and follow exactly where I walk.”

In single file and silence, the cats crept along the edge of the stream as far as the top of the waterfall. Even Breezepaw paid attention to the directions from the experienced Tribe cats at the front of the line.

When he reached the end of the valley, Lionpaw paused, looking down to where the pounding water hurtled into the pool. The air was misty with spray; the rocks were slick with it.

“How’s Jaypaw going to get down?” he murmured to Hollypaw.

His sister shook her head worriedly. “He’ll never make it.”

Then Lionpaw heard a yowl of protest. Brambleclaw had picked up Jaypaw by the scruff and was edging downward with the young cat dangling from his jaws like a kit.

“I can do it by myself!” Jaypaw hissed, furious.

Squirrelflight, already safely down, watched with her tail tip twitching. “Keep still, or I’ll throw you in the pool,” she warned him.

Lionpaw leaned close to whisper into Hollypaw’s ear.

“Don’t say a word about this to Jaypaw. He’d turn us into crow-food.”

His sister gave him a quick nod before beginning to pick her own way down. Lionpaw followed her, last of all the cats except for Tawnypelt. His heart beat uncomfortably fast as he tried to find a firm paw hold on the wet stones. Once he slipped, his hind paws dangling helplessly over the thundering water, while he struggled to pull himself up. Tawnypelt fastened her teeth in his shoulder and dragged him back to safety.

“Thanks,” he gasped.

Tawnypelt flicked her ears but said nothing.

Lionpaw had never been so thankful as when he leaped down the last tail-length and stood on level ground beside the pool. His legs were trembling and his pelt was sodden with spray, but inside he felt proud and strong. Nothing could stop the Clan cats, not even having to climb down a waterfall.

They would soon sort out those wretched, crow-food-eating trespassers and show them who deserved to hunt in the mountains. No wonder the Tribe cats hadn’t been able to cope; from what he’d seen they were too small and skinny to have real fighting strength. Talon and Night had done the right thing by asking the Clans for help. They were the Tribe of Rushing Water’s only chance.

Several Tribe cats were lurking behind the rocks around the pool and peeping out nervously to watch the newcomers.

Lionpaw tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed them. He didn’t like being studied as if he were an unusual bug, with suspicion as well as curiosity. These cats should be acting a lot more grateful that the Clan cats had come all this way to help!

Crowfeather had wandered away from the rest of the group and was sitting with his head bowed beside a heap of stones on the other side of the pool, underneath a twisted tree.

“What’s Crowfeather doing?” Lionpaw asked.

“That’s where Feathertail is buried,” Tawnypelt explained.

Lionpaw stared at the small gray-black cat crouched beside the pile of stones. “Why is Crowfeather so upset? They weren’t even in the same Clan…”

“Crowfeather loved her.” Tawnypelt’s tone was gentle.

“She died saving him from Sharptooth, and she saved the Tribe as well.”

Understanding stirred in Lionpaw’s mind like a mouse in a drift of leaves. Maybe losing Feathertail was what had made the WindClan cat so bad-tempered all the time. He noticed Breezepaw watching his father with a jealous glint in his narrowed eyes. For once Lionpaw felt a pang of sympathy for him.

He wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Brambleclaw got so upset over a cat that died ages ago, not when he had Squirrelflight now.

“Come on.” Talon’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “It’s time to walk the Path of Rushing Water.” He padded around the edge of the pool and leaped up the first few rocks.

Lionpaw’s eyes stretched wide with astonishment when Talon vanished behind the sheet of tumbling water. “Where did he go?”

Tawnypelt touched her tail to his shoulder. “You’ll see.”

Lionpaw scrambled up the slippery rocks to join Hollypaw, Jaypaw, and Squirrelflight at the point where Talon had disappeared. They were standing on a narrow ledge of rock that led behind the waterfall. A dark hole gaped menacingly at the far end. Lionpaw’s fur prickled.

“Follow me,” Squirrelflight mewed to Jaypaw. “And keep your pelt pressed up against the rock.”

Jaypaw, still sulking about being carried down the waterfall, muttered something Lionpaw couldn’t catch.