Outcast

“We thought we should invite Tawnypelt and Crowfeather to come too. They know the Tribe well from the first journey we made together.”

“What!” Russetfur exclaimed, before Blackstar could respond. “You dare to come here and expect to take one of our warriors away? Of course Tawnypelt’s not going. She has kits, for StarClan’s sake!”

Once again Blackstar gestured with his tail. “You’ll make these ThunderClan cats think we don’t want to cooperate,” he told her. “Suppose we ask Tawnypelt what she wants to do?

It’s her decision.”

Lionpaw flashed a glance at his father, but Brambleclaw avoided his gaze. It was clear that Blackstar expected Tawnypelt would decide to stay with her Clanmates and her kits.

Blackstar leaped down from the stump and led the way across the camp to a bramble thicket on the far side. “This is our nursery,” he meowed. “Go in and see her.”

Brambleclaw nodded in thanks and lowered his head to creep through the narrow entrance. Lionpaw followed; to his relief Blackstar remained outside.

ShadowClan’s nursery was bigger than the one in the stone hollow, but it had the same cozy covering of moss on the floor and the same warm, milky smell. As Lionpaw’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he made out the glimmering shape of a white queen with a huge swollen belly, curled in a mossy nest. Her ears pricked anxiously as the two ThunderClan cats entered.

“Brambleclaw!” The exclamation came from farther inside the nursery. Lionpaw spotted Tawnypelt, her head raised and her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to see you,” Brambleclaw replied. “I’ve got something to ask you.”

Before he could say any more, Tawnypelt’s kits scrambled out of their nest and bounced over to Brambleclaw and Lionpaw.

“Who are you?” The biggest kit, a tiger-striped tom, stretched up until his whiskers tickled Lionpaw’s nose.

Lionpaw edged back, stifling a sneeze. “My name’s Lionpaw. I’m an apprentice from—”

His father gave him a warning nudge. “We’re ThunderClan cats,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s why you smell all yucky!” A tiny tom with dark ginger fur wrinkled his nose.

Not half as yucky as you do.

The third kit, a gray she-cat, bounded up to Lionpaw and flung herself at him; he was so surprised that he lost his balance and landed on his side in the moss.

“We’re the best fighters!” the gray kit yowled. “Come on, let’s defend the camp!”

Instantly the other two kits bundled on top of Lionpaw.

For a heartbeat he wondered if ShadowClan was so hostile that even the kits tried to drive out intruders; then he realized that it was only a game. The kits’ claws were sheathed, and their eyes gleamed with mischief, not anger. He fought back, pushing the kits off him and managing to get to his paws again, spitting out moss.

“That’s no way to welcome a visitor,” Tawnypelt scolded them. “Brambleclaw, these are my kits—the striped one is Tigerkit, the ginger is Flamekit, and the one who’s asking for a cuff around the ear is Dawnkit.” She glared at the she-cat, who was creeping up on Lionpaw’s tail as if it were a piece of prey.

Tigerkit! Lionpaw stiffened. Did Tawnypelt hope that her son would become as great a warrior as Tigerstar? Would this kit receive the same training from their ancestor as Lionpaw did?

“Kits!” Tawnypelt warned her litter to behave. “Come over here, Brambleclaw, and tell me what all this is about.”

Absorbed in trying to keep his tail out of reach of Dawnkit, who clearly hadn’t listened to her mother’s warning, Lionpaw didn’t hear his father’s explanation. But he stopped, fur tingling with excitement, when he heard Tawnypelt mew, “I will come.”

The tortoiseshell she-cat’s eyes were shining as she clambered out of her nest. All three kits gave up chasing Lionpaw and stared at their mother.

“What do you mean?” Tigerkit asked.

“You’re not going to leave us?” Dawnkit wailed.

“I have to go with Brambleclaw for a while,” Tawnypelt told them. “You remember the stories I’ve told you, about the cats who live in the mountains behind a wall of tumbling water? Well, those cats need my help, so I have to go.”

“Then can we come with you?” Flamekit asked. “Please.”

“We’d be really helpful,” Tigerkit added.

“No, you’re too young.” Tawnypelt padded over to the three kits and touched her nose to each one in turn. “Be good, and eat your fresh-kill, and expect me back when the moon has been the same shape twice.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” the white she-cat promised from the shadows.

“Thanks, Snowbird. There, you see,” Tawnypelt added to her kits, “Snowbird will take care of you, and she’ll tell me if you’ve been naughty.”

“We won’t,” Tigerkit promised.

“Even if we never get to have any fun,” Dawnkit muttered.

Tawnypelt gave her daughter a gentle flick over the ear with her tail. “Good-bye then,” she purred.

“Good-bye,” the kits chorused, their eyes wide.