Эрин Хантер - Outcast

“There’s another cat close by,” Brambleclaw murmured.

Lionpaw tasted the air. At first he couldn’t pick up anything beyond the mingled scents of the other Clan cats. Talon was on his paws, braced for a fight, and Squirrelflight bounded across to stand by Brambleclaw’s side. The forest and the hillside beyond seemed peaceful. Early morning sunlight sliced through the trees, turning Lionpaw’s pelt to flame. Dew glittered on the grass and on cobwebs strung across the nearby bramble thicket.

Lionpaw had begun to relax when a breeze sprang up, bringing a new scent with it. “That’s a kittypet!” he exclaimed. “I’m not afraid of kittypets!”

“Shh!” Brambleclaw hissed. “We might have strayed into a kittypet’s territory, and we don’t want to fight unless we have to.”

“We don’t have to fight kittypets,” Hollypaw mewed scornfully. “I bet if we show it our teeth it’ll go wailing back to its Twolegs.”

“And maybe it won’t.” Squirrelflight’s voice was low but stern. “I’ve known kittypets who could fight, and one bad wound out here would be a problem for all of us. Now do as Brambleclaw says and be quiet.”

Lionpaw stiffened as he heard a rustling in the undergrowth. The fronds of a nearby clump of bracken waved wildly and parted. A plump tabby tom stepped through them into the open. His fur was rumpled and covered with burrs, and his muzzle was gray with age. He halted just beyond the bracken and stared at the journeying cats.

Brambleclaw was staring back, his amber eyes wide with shock. Beside him, Squirrelflight bounced on her paws and let out a little cry of welcome.

“Purdy!”

Hollypaw turned to stare at her mother. “You know this kittypet?”

Squirrelflight’s eyes were bright. “We met him on our first journey,” she explained. “He helped us find the way to the sun-drown-place.”

Tawnypelt sprang up from where she had been sleeping in the shelter of the bramble thicket. “Hey, Purdy!” she called, bounding across the grass to touch noses with the old tabby.

“How’s the prey running?”

Stormfur padded up after her. “Greetings, Purdy. I’m glad that StarClan has joined our paths again.”

“A friend o’ mine told me there were strange cats in the woods, an’ I reckoned they might be you,” the old tom meowed. “But where’s the rest of you? Where’s that scrawny young apprentice who was always arguin’?”

“Here.” Crowfeather stalked up to stand with the others.

“Are you going to let him talk to you like that?” Breezepaw demanded, gazing at the tabby tom with undisguised hostility. “I could rip his fur off with one paw.”

Crowfeather’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand, Breezepaw. Purdy was part of our journey. That’s important.”

Breezepaw gave a disdainful sniff.

“Crowfeather’s a warrior now,” Brambleclaw mewed hurriedly. Hollypaw guessed he was trying to distract Purdy from Breezepaw’s rudeness.

“So am I,” Squirrelflight added. “My warrior name is Squirrelflight.”

“Well I never!” Purdy’s amber eyes gleamed. “But there were six of you,” he added, glancing from side to side.

“Where’s the silver cat—Feathersomethin’?”

“She died,” Crowfeather rasped, before any other cat could speak.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Purdy’s tail drooped, but after a couple of heartbeats his eyes grew bright again. “I never thought I’d see Clan cats again, an’ now here you all are.”

“We’re not all Clan cats,” Stormfur pointed out. He waved his tail, beckoning Brook and the other Tribe cats to come closer. “This is Brook, and this is Night and Talon. They all come from the mountains.”

“Wha’?” Purdy’s neck fur bristled. “So there really are cats livin’ in the mountains?” He inspected the three Tribe cats with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were just a tale queens told their kits to stop ’em from strayin’.”

“No, we’re real, all right,” Talon mewed.

“So I see.” Purdy gave his chest fur a couple of licks, casting sidelong glances at the mountain cats as if he expected them to leap on him with claws out and teeth bared.

“And these are my kits.” Squirrelflight swept her tail around Hollypaw, Lionpaw, and Jaypaw, urging them closer to the old tabby. “Mine and Brambleclaw’s.”

“Kits!” Purdy’s whiskers quivered in surprise. “And you hardly more’n kits yourselves. Come here, young ’uns, and let me look at you.”

“This is my son, Breezepaw,” Crowfeather added, shoving Breezepaw up with the others.

The three littermates padded up to Purdy. As Hollypaw dipped her head politely she caught a whiff of his sour breath and had to make an effort not to flinch away.

“He’s way old!” Breezepaw muttered into her ear. “Older than any of our elders. Why isn’t he dead yet?”

“Shut up, stupid furball,” Hollypaw whispered. “Kittypets get looked after by their Twolegs. They don’t have to catch their own food.”

Purdy said nothing, but he flicked up one ragged ear, and Hollypaw knew he had heard Breezepaw’s comment.

“I bet this old mangepelt couldn’t catch a mouse if he tried from now to leaf-bare,” Breezepaw scoffed.

Purdy looked at him. “You’re right, I don’t catch prey no more. I get my food from Upwalkers. But I reckon just this once I might try eatin’ ill-mannered kits.”

“I’m not a—” Breezepaw began indignantly, only to clamp his jaws shut as his father lashed out a paw at his ear—a hard blow, though with his claws sheathed.

“Don’t listen to Breezepaw,” Jaypaw mewed to the old tom. “Every cat knows he’s mouse-brained.”

A purr rumbled in Purdy’s chest. “Don’t worry, young ’un.

I’ve met more nuisancy young cats than you’ve had rabbits.”

He lowered his head to inspect the three littermates.

Close up, he looked as if he hadn’t groomed his pelt in seasons. Hollypaw spotted a tick on the side of his neck and a few fleas hopping among the matted fur and tangled burrs.

Yuck, fleas! I don’t want any of them hopping onto me, thanks .

In a Clan, apprentices would groom the elders’ fur and get rid of ticks and fleas. Maybe Purdy wasn’t as well looked after as Clan cats after all.

“So what are you doin’ here?” Purdy asked, when he had given Hollypaw and her littermates a good sniff. “Not off to the sun-drown-place again?”

“Not this time,” Brambleclaw replied. “We’re going to the mountains. The Tribe cats need our help.”

Purdy’s eyes stretched wide with alarm. “That’s no place for cats!” he protested. “Are you tellin’ me you haven’t found a better place than that to live?”

“We’ve found a great place,” Squirrelflight assured him.

“It’s beside a lake,” Tawnypelt added. “There’s enough territory for all four Clans and not much trouble from Twolegs.”

“Then why don’t you stay there?” Purdy asked.

“We’ll be going back, but right now the Tribe cats need us,” Brambleclaw meowed.

Hollypaw missed Purdy’s reply as Lionpaw hissed into her ear, “Why don’t we get going? This kittypet is holding us all up.”

“I guess he’s an old friend,” Hollypaw meowed, though privately she agreed with Lionpaw. Cats in the mountains could be dying while the rescue party stood here meowing about old times.

To her relief, Brambleclaw dipped his head to the old cat.

“We’d better be going. It’s been great seeing you again, Purdy.”