Outcast

He let out a yowl of frustration as he saw Rock’s figure beginning to fade. For a heartbeat Jaypaw saw him as a shimmer against the rocks; then he was gone, dissolved into wind and starlight. He bounded forward and found himself scrabbling in the hollow in the Cave of Pointed Stones, where he had fallen asleep.

“Mouse dung!” he spat.

Scent told him that time had passed and Stoneteller had left the cave. Jaypaw rose to his paws and gave himself a quick grooming. His dreams still clung to his mind like stubborn cobwebs, and he felt that he might be able to find his own answers once he had time to think.

But the time was not now. He could hear faint caterwauling in the distance; his muscles tensing with the anticipation of disaster, he located the passage and pattered down it until he reached the main cave. The noise grew louder, wails and yowling that almost drowned out the noise of the waterfall.

As Jaypaw stepped into the cavern, the stench of blood slapped him in the face like a damp wind.

“What’s going on?” he meowed in alarm.

He tasted the air; the first familiar scent he encountered was Tawnypelt’s. Bounding over to her, he asked, “What happened? Has there been a battle?”

“A fight.” The ShadowClan cat’s voice was terse. “The prey-hunters went out at dawn and brought down an eagle.

Then the trespassers spotted them on their way home and fought them for it.”

“And we lost!” an unfamiliar voice snarled. “Those mange-ridden fleapelts took our prey. It’s all the fault of you Clan cats. You kept the cave-guards here, learning battle techniques.”

The Tribe cat spat out the last words as if they were a curse.

“The techniques you use now wouldn’t help you fight other cats.” Brambleclaw’s voice came from behind Jaypaw and his father’s scent wreathed around him.

“They’d be better than nothing!” the Tribe cat yowled. “My mate was injured today.” His voice shook suddenly. “I don’t even know if she’ll live.”

“I’m sorry,” Brambleclaw murmured. “Jaypaw, will you go and help Stoneteller? He could use another medicine cat.”

“Sure.” Thankful to have something to do at last, Jaypaw located Stoneteller’s scent among all the others and padded across to him, weaving his way among the bodies of injured cats screeching in pain.

“Honestly,” he muttered to himself. “There can’t be more than about six of them, but they’re making enough racket for a whole Clan!”

“Jaypaw.” Stoneteller’s voice was calm and in control. He seemed a lifetime away from the weary, confused cat of the night before. “Chew up this tormentil root and put it on Gray’s wound.”

Jaypaw sniffed curiously at the root Stoneteller pushed against his paws. “I’ve never come across this before. What did you call it?”

“Tormentil,” Stoneteller replied. “Good for all wounds and for poison.”

“Hey, do you mind?” Gray’s voice, tight with pain, came from just beside Jaypaw. “Talk about it afterward, okay?”

“Okay.” Jaypaw sighed. “Have you given the wound a good lick?”

“No…” Gray sounded startled, as if the thought of licking his own wound had never occurred to him.

“Then do it,” Jaypaw snapped. “What’s the good of putting a poultice on a load of drying blood and messy fur?”

He crouched down to chew up the tormentil, hearing the steady rasp of Gray’s tongue. The root had a strong aromatic scent and a sharp taste.

“We use wintergreen, too,” Stoneteller meowed as he worked. “And tansy. Have you heard of those?”

Jaypaw spat out the last of the chewed-up root and scooped up a pawful to put on Gray’s wound. “We have tansy, but mostly for coughs. Right, Gray, is that wound clean now?”

“Yes, it’s okay,” the prey-hunter replied.

“About time,” Jaypaw muttered. “It’s like dealing with kits!”

“Hey, calm down.” Hollypaw pushed her muzzle into Jaypaw’s neck fur. “Tell me what to do. I’ve come to help.”

“The Tribe cats need to start helping themselves,” Jaypaw snapped at her, then felt sorry for being sharp. Hollypaw didn’t know that the Tribe’s ancestors had given up on them, and he didn’t want to tell her. But he knew that if the Tribe cats didn’t start helping themselves, there was no hope left for them.

Chapter 26

Once the injured cats had been treated and were resting in their sleeping hollows, Stoneteller padded wearily toward the mouth of the cave. He beckoned with his tail for Brambleclaw to join him, and Lionpaw followed, eager to hear what their next move would be.

The light that came through the waterfall was dim and gray. Stoneteller sat down, a small, dark figure in the midst of the watery radiance, and tucked his paws underneath him.

“The Tribe cannot survive here,” he sighed, his voice almost drowned out by the pounding of the water. “We must leave the mountains and find a home somewhere else.”

Brambleclaw’s eyes widened in dismay. “That’s your decision to make, Stoneteller, but is it wise? It’s dangerous for a large group of cats to move around together. The Clans lost cats on the Great Journey. Besides, where would you go?”