Outcast

“Assess the situation.” Brambleclaw’s tone was crisp and positive; Jaypaw knew that his father would have worked out what he would say long before. “We need to know what the real threat is. Where are these trespassers taking prey?

Where are they clashing with the Tribe? And we must discover where they’ve made their camp.”

“We should work out how much territory the Tribe needs to survive, too,” Tawnypelt called out from somewhere near Jaypaw.

“That’s right,” Stormfur put in, his voice deep but tense with excitement. “We can’t sit here and wait to be attacked.

We should establish borders and make sure they’re properly defended.”

An eager chorus broke out again, but a new voice cut across it. “Wait.”

As the noise died down, Brambleclaw meowed, “Yes, Crag.

What do you want to say?”

“We have known each other a long time, Brambleclaw,” the new speaker began. “I was the first Tribe cat you met when you dragged yourselves out of the pool, all those moons ago. I’m a cave-guard, and I fought in the great battle beside Stormfur. No cat can say that I’m afraid to fight. But I’m telling you now that you’re wrong.”

“Why?” Even in the single word, Jaypaw could tell how much respect his father felt for this cat.

“Because you’re trying to turn us into a Clan,” Crag replied. “We’re not. We are the Tribe.”

“But this is the only way to survive!” Brambleclaw insisted.

“You’ve never had to share your hunting grounds with other cats before. You can’t live here like prisoners, afraid to venture out in search of food.”

“That’s right!” some cat called. “We need our own territory.”

“We need to defend it!” another added.

“But think what we risk losing.” Crag’s strong meow rose above the voices of his Tribe. “All our traditions, everything that makes us who we are. Instead, we’ll spend all our time running around trying to remember which rocks belong to us.”

“What do you think?” Hollypaw whispered as the argument rumbled on above their heads.

“Brambleclaw’s right,” Lionpaw asserted without hesitation. “What choice do they have?”

“But then, Crag’s right, too.” Hollypaw sounded uncertain.

“How would we like it if cats came into our territory and started telling us to do everything differently?”

“We’re not starving to death,” Lionpaw pointed out.

“What’s the matter, Hollypaw? On the way here you were planning how to organize the Tribe like a Clan.”

“I know. But it’s different when you see how they do things.” Hollypaw’s worry soaked into Jaypaw’s fur like rain.

“What about you, Jaypaw?” she prompted. “Do you think the Tribe should give up all its traditions because of these trespassing cats?”

Jaypaw shrugged. “It’s not our decision. They’re not our traditions.”

He heard a hiss of annoyance from Hollypaw, as if she’d expected him to back her up. But the problem was more complicated than she or Lionpaw understood. Jaypaw was reluctant to talk about his dream. He had always relished the extra knowledge he gained through his connection with StarClan, but now he was thoroughly unnerved, knowing that the Tribe of Endless Hunting did not want the Tribe to become a Clan.

He remembered the feelings of shame he had picked up by the pool, the regret of the Tribe of Endless Hunting that they had failed their descendants, that they had not found a place of safety for the cats who looked to them for protection. He remembered their belief that the mountains had betrayed them.

Then something struck him. If the Tribe had tried to find a place of safety in the mountains, that meant they must have come from somewhere else—somewhere that was no longer safe.

So where did they come from? And what brought them here in the first place?

Chapter 23

Lionpaw watched as the Tribe cats broke up into small, quarrelsome groups.

They might as well save their breath, he thought. Stoneteller has made up his mind, and now Brambleclaw’s in charge.

Even so, he was impressed by Crag’s courage in speaking up and glad of the respect he could see between the cave-guard and his father. Crag was a strong, brave cat, and with the right training he would make a great warrior.

“At least we haven’t come all this way for nothing,” Breezepaw remarked, strolling over. “We’ll soon lick this lot into shape. We might as well start calling them MountainClan right now.”

“Say that in the hearing of a Tribe cat, and you’ll be looking for your ears,” Hollypaw hissed.

“Ignore him,” Lionpaw told her. “If he wants to be stupid—”

He broke off as he saw Brambleclaw padding toward them. “I’ve got a job for you,” the dark tabby meowed.

Lionpaw sprang to his paws, his tail straight up in the air.

Action at last!

“Do you think you three could train the to-bes in some fighting moves?” Brambleclaw asked.

Lionpaw started a little as he realized that “you three”