Tallstar’s Revenge

Tallpaw raced into the camp after Dawnstripe. The whole Clan was awake, swirling between the moonlit tussocks so that the clearing looked as busy as Fourtrees. Strange cats appeared among Tallpaw’s Clanmates. A black-and-white she-cat paced beside a gray tom. Her ginger-and-white companion stood, eyes bright, near the edge of the Meeting Hollow while a large, creamy-brown tom tasted the air. Beside them, a tawny tom, short-furred and thin, glanced around curiously.

Tallpaw opened his mouth and let their scent bathe his tongue. He could taste Thunderpaths, stale food, and a smoky smell, like the grimy clouds that sometimes drifted from Twolegplace.

“Who are they?” Barkpaw’s eyes were wide.

Tallpaw stopped beside him. “They’re the visitors.”

Shrewpaw nosed his way among his Clanmates, snatching sniffs of the newcomers.

Redclaw blocked his path. “They’re our guests, not prey. Treat them with respect.”

Shrewpaw lifted his chin. “What are they doing here?”

“They’ve come to share food and stories,” Redclaw told him.

Heatherstar weaved between her Clanmates and dipped her head to the black-and-white she-cat. “It’s good to see you again, Bess.” Her eyes flicked over Bess’s companions. “Where’s Wee Hen?”

Bess shook her head. “’Twas a hard cold-season,” she meowed softly. “But she died warm and full-fed.”

Heatherstar’s tail drooped. “She’ll be missed.”

Whiteberry hurried over the tussocks, his eyes clouding. “Did she have any words for me?” he asked hopefully.

Bess met his gaze. “She asked that you share her stories with your young’uns.”

“Of course.” Whiteberry’s tail quivered and he turned to the creamy-brown tom. “It’s good to see you, Algernon.”

The tom whisked his tail. “We decided it were well time we tasted heather once more.”

Tallpaw shifted his paws, unnerved by the strangeness of having cats who weren’t Clanborn right inside the camp. And they spoke so strangely. “I didn’t believe they’d actually come,” he murmured, half to himself.

Barkpaw jerked around. “You knew about them already?”

Tallpaw blinked at him. “Didn’t Hawkheart warn you?”

“Warn me?” Barkpaw narrowed his eyes. “Who are these cats?”

Tallpaw shrugged. “All I know is that they’re rogues and they come every year to spend greenleaf with WindClan.”

Barkpaw gazed at the strangers. “Why?”

“Because they always have.” Tallpaw repeated Dawnstripe’s words, still not understanding why that made it okay for WindClan to share nests and prey with rogues.

“Reena!” Larksplash bounded over the tussocks toward the young ginger-and-white she-cat. “You’ve grown!”

“Oh my tail and whiskers!” Reena looked surprised. “So have you!”

Meadowslip and Brackenwing hurried after Larksplash and crowded around Reena.

“How was leaf-bare?” Meadowslip asked.

Brackenwing ran the tip of her tail along Reena’s spine. “Did you find somewhere warm to shelter?”

“We stayed cozy,” Reena reassured them. Her gaze flicked over Larksplash. “Are you a warrior yet?”

“I’ve been a mentor,” Larksplash purred.

“A mentor?” Reena looked impressed. “You were hardly more than a ’paw the last time we were here.” She glanced around the Clan. “Who’ve you been mentoring?”

Ryestalk padded forward. “Me.” Her nostrils twitched.

“And who are you?” Reena cast an admiring gaze over the young warrior.

“I’m Ryestalk.”

“Well, I’m Reena, and I’d be honored to touch noses with you.” She leaned forward, sticking out her muzzle.

Ryestalk glanced at Larksplash. “It’s okay,” Larksplash reassured her. Gingerly Ryestalk touched her nose to Reena’s, then hopped back.

Barkpaw growled under his breath. “I hope they haven’t brought whitecough with them.”

Tallpaw breathed in the scent of the visitors. “They smell clean and healthy to me.”

Barkpaw was still scowling. “I’d like to look them over in the medicine den before they start mixing with the Clan. Hawkheart says strangers bring sickness.”

The tawny brown rogue had wandered over to the Hunting Stones and stood watching the Clan in silence, his eyes glittering. Beside him, the small, dark gray tom shifted his paws warily.

Aspenfall approached them, ears twitching. “Sparrow.” He nodded to the tawny-colored tom.

“Aspenfall.” Sparrow matched Aspenfall’s respectful tone.

The dark gray rogue lifted his head. “I hope cold-season was kind to the Clan.”

“Leaf-bare was long, Mole,” Aspenfall told him. “But the prey kept running and our nests were warm.”

“Bess!” Cloudrunner bounded across the clearing and touched noses with the black-and-white she-cat.

Tallpaw felt fur brush his flank. Palebird slid in beside him. “It’s good to see old friends,” she murmured.

“Have you known them long?” Tallpaw asked.

“They’ve been visiting since before I was born,” Palebird replied. “At least, Algie and Bess have. Reena is their daughter. Sparrow and Mole joined them later.”

Tallpaw glanced at the gray tom. “They have weird names.” He could understand Sparrow and Mole, but Reena, Algie, and Bess felt strange to his tongue.