Tallstar’s Revenge

“Hailstar warned you about the currents,” she murmured, and swam close beside Talltail until they reached the shore where Barkface and Rippleclaw were shaking out their pelts.

Talltail stretched his feet down to the pebbles, relieved as he felt them underpaw, and staggered out after Ottersplash. “Thanks,” he grunted.

Ottersplash shrugged. “I’m impressed a WindClan cat can swim at all.”

Rippleclaw nodded along the trail toward the gorge. “We’ll watch you go,” he meowed. “To make sure you don’t have trouble on the path. It’s steep beside the gorge.”

He wants to make sure we cross the border. Talltail prickled with irritation. Why was an invisible scent line so important?

“Thanks.” Barkface shook the water from his fur. He dipped his head to the RiverClan warriors, the precious plant in his jaws.

Talltail swished his tail, stirring the pebbles behind. “Thanks,” he grunted, and headed toward the gorge.

At the top, Barkface dropped the root at Talltail’s paws. “Take this to Hawkheart as quickly as you can. You’re faster than me and he’ll know what to do with it.”

“Okay.” Talltail grabbed the root and pelted up the slope toward camp. The wind streamed through his ears, freezing the tips.

As he burst into camp and raced across the clearing, Hawkheart stuck his head out of the medicine den. “You got it!” He snatched the root from Talltail’s mouth and disappeared inside. Talltail paced in a tight circle outside.

Meadowslip hurried over with her mate, Hickorynose.

Hickorynose glanced at Talltail’s wet pelt. “Did you swim the river?” His eyes widened.

“It was the only way across.”

Hickorynose dipped his head. “Thank you, Talltail. Your courage may have saved our kit’s life.” He looked past Talltail toward the medicine den.

Talltail followed his gaze. “Let’s hope it works.”

“I smell grouse.” Dawnstripe jerked her head toward the heather. It shimmered, frost-tipped, in the early morning sunshine. Beside her, the bramble that marked the Fourtrees border still reeked with the stench of ShadowClan.

Aspenfall tasted the air, nodding. “Definitely grouse.”

Plumclaw lifted her tail. “It’ll make a good meal for the elders.”

Talltail was impressed with how willingly the tunnelers had slipped into the role of moor runners now that all the tunnels had been blocked off. Their underground duties had given them agility and strength, traits easily turned to hunting on the moor.

Dawnstripe headed across the grass. “Perhaps Hopkit will be well enough to eat some today.”

In the sunrises since Talltail and Barkface had returned from RiverClan, Hopkit had rarely been conscious. The sedge root hadn’t cured him overnight, but it seemed to have slowed the infection and given the young tom a chance to fight for his life. Barkface had even reported that the swelling in his paw had begun to ease. Hopkit might yet recover.

“Talltail?” Dawnstripe’s mew jolted Talltail from his thoughts. Plumclaw and Aspenfall were already nosing their way into the wide swathe of heather. “Are you coming?”

Talltail’s nose twitched as he scented rabbit. “You can catch grouse without me,” he told her. “I smell prey here.”

“You’d rather hunt alone?” Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes, then followed her Clanmates without waiting for an answer.

Why waste four warriors on one catch? Talltail watched her tail disappear into the heather, then sniffed the grass. The ShadowClan stink from the bramble was distracting, but as he followed the faint rabbit scent along the slope to where it dipped toward the Thunderpath, it grew stronger. His mouth began to water. He’d never caught rabbit here before. Rabbits rarely strayed this far from their burrows. Halfway down the slope, he paused. Unease pricked in his pelt.

Lifting his head, he tasted the air. There was more than one rabbit scent here. There were many. Had they dug new burrows on the slope? He scanned the grass, looking for tunnel openings, but it was smooth and unbroken. Why had so many rabbits passed this way? Deep in his belly, worry churned harder.

The Thunderpath ran along the bottom of the slope. Monsters hurtled past, their roars ringing through the stone-cold air. Talltail blocked out their stench and tried to focus on the scent of rabbit. He suddenly realized it was tinged with blood. He wasn’t smelling live prey; he was smelling fresh-kill! He padded farther down the slope, flattening his ears. His time in Twolegplace had taught him that the monsters were more noise than danger so long as he stayed clear of their path.