Эрин Хантер - Outcast

Brambleclaw nodded. “Good thinking. And the valley with the stream should be part of the Tribe’s territory.”

The Tribe cats made no comment, though they exchanged doubtful glances. With a flash of sympathy Lionpaw guessed that they might feel they were losing their territory anyway, to the Clan cats who were telling them what to do.

“Can you take us there, Talon?” Brambleclaw asked.

“Sure.” The big cave-guard set out along the ridge and Lionpaw followed with the other Clan cats, being very careful where he put his paws. The eagle, he was relieved to see, had disappeared.

The next valley, when they came to it, looked more inviting for hunting, with plenty of cover for prey. Talon would have turned down into it, but Brambleclaw urged them on, following the top of the ridge.

“We need to walk all the way around the border,” he meowed, “or at least where we think the border might be.”

“What?” Bird looked startled. “We can’t possibly go all that way in a single day.”

“It takes longer here, you know,” Gray added. “It’s not like traveling on flat ground.”

“I know that,” Brambleclaw responded, understanding in his amber eyes. “But time isn’t on your side. The intruders aren’t going to wait for you.”

Talon let out a low growl. “You’re right. Let’s get going.”

He led the group of cats along the top of the valley, taking in the spike of stone as a border marker. The ridge dipped at the point where it crossed the head of the valley, where the stream poured out from a cleft between two rocks.

“This is another good place for a marker,” Brambleclaw explained. “Once the border is decided, you’ll need to place scent markers every day, and it’s best to choose places that are easy to remember.”

Talon nodded, but Lionpaw thought he still didn’t look convinced that marking the territory was what the Tribe wanted to do.

From here their route lay across a plateau covered by loose, sharp stones, then over several steep ridges where there were no paths to guide them. The sun climbed high in the sky.

Lionpaw’s legs ached, and he lost count of the number of times he scraped his pads on rough stone. He left smudges of blood behind him as he walked. Even the Tribe cats began to look exhausted.

Brambleclaw halted abruptly as he rounded a huge boulder and Lionpaw almost crashed into him. The dark tabby’s fur was bristling and Lionpaw picked up the scent of anger. Alert for danger, he stretched up to look over his father’s shoulder.

He was overlooking a hollow with a pool at the bottom and a few straggly bushes. Three cats were just emerging from the shelter of the branches; the first one had a mouse dangling from his jaws. All three of them paused and looked up curiously.

“What’s going on?” a black tom asked. “What do you want?”

“We could ask you the same question,” Brambleclaw replied, taking a few paces forward to stand on the lip of the hollow.

Talon stalked up to stand beside him, and Tawnypelt joined him on the other side. Lionpaw noticed Bird and Gray taking up positions where they could spot any other intruders approaching, while Crowfeather skirted the top of the hollow until he could keep watch on the bushes from the other side.

The black tom who had spoken narrowed his eyes. “If you’re looking for a fight, you can have one.”

“We’re not looking for a fight.” Brambleclaw’s voice was calm, though Lionpaw saw his neck fur still fluffed out and knew he was poised to launch himself into battle if he had to.

“We’re setting boundaries. This will be the Tribe’s territory, but you and your friends can have the rest of the mountains.

When we’ve finished, it will be clear which parts are which.”

Lionpaw thought that sounded fair, but the trespassers obviously didn’t agree. The third of the party, a pale gray she-cat, looked up at Brambleclaw with cold blue eyes. “Who are you to tell us where we can’t go?” she asked scornfully. “We have a right to hunt where we like.”

“This is our place,” Talon growled.

“Then stop us,” the she-cat challenged him. “You haven’t managed it so far.”

“And your borders won’t stop us, either,” the black tom added.

Talon’s tail lashed and he crouched down, ready to spring.

Across the hollow, Crowfeather let out an earsplitting yowl.

The three intruders drew closer together, their claws out and their ears flattened.

“Stop!” Brambleclaw raised his tail. “There’ll be no blood shed today. Go back to your leader, if you have one,” he told the trespassing cats. “Tell all your cats that the borders will be in place from tomorrow and must not be crossed.” He stepped back from the edge of the hollow and gestured to Talon with his tail. “Let them go.”

The big cave-guard let out a snarl as the intruders stalked past him, but he didn’t lift a paw to stop them. “Next time you won’t be so lucky,” he spat.

The only reply was an insolent tail wave from the gray she-cat as the intruders disappeared between two boulders.

Tawnypelt bounded after them, halting at the spot where they had vanished.

“They’ve gone,” she reported after a few heartbeats.

But they’ll be back . Lionpaw didn’t speak the thought aloud, but he guessed that every cat there shared it.

“What’s the point of all this?” Gray asked despondently.

“Those cats will never respect our borders.”

“We might as well go back to the cave,” Bird agreed.

“No, you mustn’t give up,” Brambleclaw urged them.

“Once the borders are in place, you can keep reinforcing the scent markers until the trespassers finally get the message.”

Lionpaw wasn’t sure his father was right. Surely borders depended on agreement from both sides? And if one side didn’t agree, the scent markers had to be backed up by teeth and claws. Were the Tribe cats capable of fighting to protect their territory?

Talon led the way around the hollow, enclosing it within the Tribe’s territory, then headed between the boulders and through a narrow split in the rock wall, a twisting path just wide enough for one cat at a time. The fur on Talon’s broad shoulders brushed the rock on either side.

They had traveled down this trail for several fox-lengths when they came to a place where it grew a little wider, with tumbled stones at the foot of the cliff face. A wild screech sounded from above their heads. A heartbeat later a body landed on top of Lionpaw, knocking him off his paws. He rolled onto his side to find he was facing a young tortoiseshell with lightning streaks on her face.

“I know you!” he gasped. “I saw you yesterday.”

The tortoiseshell lashed out with one paw and batted him over the head. Lionpaw barely registered that she hadn’t unsheathed her claws. After the exhausting, frustrating day, all he wanted was to stretch his muscles in a fight. He sprang up and hurled himself on top of the young cat.

As he battered her with his hind paws he caught a glimpse of Tawnypelt rolling over and over with a gray cat clinging to her fur. Another young cat was riding on Talon’s shoulders, screeching and digging in his claws. More scuffling noises came from farther up the path; the air was filled with shrieks and caterwauls.

There was hardly enough room on the narrow trail to fight effectively. The tortoiseshell threw Lionpaw off, scrambled up onto a boulder, and spat defiance at him, her back arched and her tail fluffed out.

Spinning around, Lionpaw saw Brambleclaw with a huge paw planted on the neck of a young ginger tom, while just beyond him a pair of identical tabbies had Bird down on her side, raking their claws through her fur. With a yowl of rage, Lionpaw leaped right over Brambleclaw and flung himself on the nearest tabby.