Tallstar’s Revenge

No dawn patrol. No hunting duty. Someone else would have to clear the old sheepswool from Flailfoot’s nest. Excitement surged beneath his pelt. He was free to follow his destiny!

Tiny paws scuttled at the edge of his hearing. Talltail braced himself, opening his mouth to taste the air. Mouse scents seeped from every shadowy corner. Stifling a purr of satisfaction, he crept forward. His tail whisked the stray grass stalks that littered the floor. He lifted the tip up, careful to keep quiet. Something moved in the shadows. He fixed his gaze on a flicker of brown fur and moved toward it, drawing himself silently forward, paw by paw. This wasn’t how he was used to hunting, but Talltail knew there was no room to give chase in here. He had to creep up on his prey instead.

He could see the mouse more clearly now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. It had picked up a grass stalk and was nibbling the seeds at the tip. Talltail crept closer, holding his breath. The mouse glanced around, then went back to nibbling. Talltail showed his teeth. Then he leaped. He slammed his paws down onto the soft back of the mouse. It was already dead by the time he reached forward to nip its spine.

Sitting up, he let his purr rumble out loud, then tucked into his meal, savoring the richness of its flesh. Prey tasted different here. There was no flavor of heather and peat. It was fatty and moist and sang on his tongue. And very easy to catch!

A dog barked in the distance. Talltail stiffened. It was time he moved on, easy prey or not. The dogs wouldn’t stay away forever. He swallowed his last mouthful and padded around the base of the grass pile, scanning the wooden wall for the hole the dogs had chased him through. It was much bigger now, jagged-edged and filled with bright light. Tasting the air warily, Talltail stuck out his head. The air was damp, and dripping grass soaked his muzzle. The hard frost had broken, giving way to low, gray clouds. A steady drizzle sprayed Talltail’s face. He fluffed out his fur and padded from the wooden nest, crossing the grass toward another stone wall. The dog barked again, its companion joining in, raising their voices to a howl. They’d come looking for him soon.

Talltail broke into a run and leaped onto the wall in an easy bound. The land on the other side was wooded and sloped steeply up. To one side he could see past the line of trees to the distant Highstones. Would the rogues have gone there? Talltail narrowed his eyes. Why should they? They preferred to eat other cats’ prey. Why would they head for stony, bushless slopes, where the only prey would have to be stalked with more skill than they possessed? Besides, the stones would hurt their paws. They may be used to traveling, but he guessed they only followed the softest paths that they could find.

He looked the other way, spotting a smooth, grass path at the edge of the tree line. That was the sort of route they’d choose. He jumped down and trekked along it, glancing into the shadowy woods. Would they have gone in? The trees would give shelter. He should check it out. The thought made his pelt prick. Even though the tall branches were bare, they still crowded out the sky. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the trees.

He pricked his ears, his heart quickening at the sighing of the wind above. It set the branches rattling, and as he passed a slender ash, he heard it creak ominously. Talltail darted forward, fear flaring. Did trees fall down? Was he going to get crushed? The dark gray sky glowered above, not giving enough light to throw shadows. Instead the trunks of all the trees were swallowed up in gloom, filled with brambles to trip unwary paws and holes to make him stumble.

Talltail’s nose twitched. Rabbit scents hung on the damp air. Birds, too, and other forest prey he’d smelled on trips to Fourtrees. Mole. Shrew. Vole. ThunderClan prey. His prey, too, now. His belly grumbled, but it was too dark to hunt properly. He’d have to wait for some kind of clearing in the trees.

The ground started to slope upward, but Talltail leaped easily up the rise and scrambled onto rocky overhangs until he reached the crest. He was still in the forest, but it was lighter here, the trees spaced farther apart. He breathed the damp air, wondering which way to head. Along the ridge or down the far side? Cat scent touched his tongue. Tom, not from a Clan. His heart lurched. Could it be Sparrow?