by Erin Hunter
Talltail ran faster. He had to make them see him! But his paws grew heavier with each step. The harder he pushed, the slower he ran, as though the air around him had turned to water and was holding him back.
“Dawnstripe!” The longing in his paws deepened; the claws hooking his belly tugged him harder. But he couldn’t get close enough to make the other cats notice him. “Dawnstripe!”
A paw poked his shoulder. “Wake up!”
Talltail jerked up his head. Jake was nudging him with a paw. “Another bad dream?” he meowed.
Talltail frowned. “Not exactly.” He could still see his Clanmates as clearly as if they were in front of him. The claws in his belly tugged again. He flinched.
Jake leaned closer. “Are you okay?”
Talltail lifted his muzzle and gazed at Jake. “My belly hurts. And my paws. As though they’re being pulled by something I cannot see.”
Jake sat back, nodding. “Your home is calling you.”
“What do you mean?” Talltail pushed himself up.
A purr rumbled in Jake’s throat. “Don’t you know?”
Talltail tipped his head on one side. “No.”
“I guess Clan cats aren’t used to leaving home.” Jake sounded amused. “I know the feeling you’re having. The nagging pain, the tug in my pelt and paws? I get that whenever I’m away from my home too long.”
“Really?” Talltail blinked. “Why?”
“Every creature needs to belong somewhere,” Jake told him. “Your paws know where that is, even if you don’t.”
Suddenly anxious, Talltail hopped out the nest. “But I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Are you sure?” Jake mewed. “What about your Clan?”
“I left my Clan.” Why did everyone act like he had just strayed for a while? Talltail glared at Jake. “My paws must be calling me somewhere else.”
Jake shrugged. “Wherever it is, let them guide you. The pain won’t go away otherwise.”
Talltail circled restlessly. “Will you come with me?”
“For a while.” Jake watched him, his expression guarded.
Talltail stopped. “This feeling I have—do you have it too?” Jake nodded, and Talltail felt a tiny, cold stone inside his belly. “You want to go back to your Twoleg, don’t you?”
Jake was quiet for a long time. Then he ran one front paw lightly over the ground. “That’s where I belong,” he mewed. “I can’t stay away forever.”
“I won’t stop you,” Talltail whispered. But he wondered if that was true. He didn’t like the ache in his paws, or the claws tugging at his belly. The future suddenly stretched into shadow. And he hadn’t even done what he’d set out to do—he hadn’t killed Sparrow. He knew he’d made the right decision when he let the rogue live, but where was the satisfaction? It felt like returning from a hunting patrol with no fresh-kill for his Clan. He felt lost and empty, and his dumb paws were tugging him who knew where. Would he really be able to let Jake go?
“Come on.” Jake headed toward the field. “Let’s catch a rabbit first. Last one to that tussock is a fox-breath!”
Jake caught the rabbit. Talltail was impressed. He’d chased it, but Jake was the one who veered around to cut off its escape and killed it with a single bite. The kittypet looked thrilled, his eyes gleaming as he carried it back to Talltail.
“I could teach you warriors a thing or two about hunting!” Jake teased as they ate.
After burying the remains of the rabbit, they climbed the craggy summit they’d crossed on their way into the valley. Clouds covered the sky, blocking the weak, leaf-bare sun. The breeze had lost its icy chill, but it was blustery, cold, and damp as it lifted Talltail’s fur. He felt better now that his belly was full, the rich flavor of fresh-kill distracting him from the invisible tugging claws.
As they reached the top, Jake sat down and gazed at the landscape ahead. “What can you see?”
Talltail squinted through the wind that was battering his whiskers. He felt as though he were being assessed on Outlook Rock. “Fields.” He recognized the first meadow he’d crossed with Jake. More meadows stretched around it, surrounding a dark mass of walls and dens. “And Twolegplace.” It sprouted in the middle of the valley like an ugly forest.
“What about beyond?” Jake prompted.
Talltail peered at the smudge of leaf-bare forest on the far side. “ThunderClan territory, I guess.”
“And beyond that?”
Talltail narrowed his eyes. Where the distant horizon met the sky, he could see swathes of brown heather. In a few more moons, they’d be greener than grass, burgeoning with fresh growth. The moor. His paws itched to pull him forward at the sight of his old home. He forced himself to stand still, but the effort made his heart ache.
“If we follow the path of a bird”—Jake pointed his nose directly toward the moor— “we only need to cut through the edge of Twolegplace before we reach Clan territory.”
“Why do we need to go to Clan territory?” Talltail nodded toward the fields sweeping on every side. “There are so many other places we could go.”
“But I’ve always wanted to see where the Clans live,” Jake reminded him. “I’ve looked in from my fence so often. Now that I’m with you, I can see the territories close up.”
“I don’t think ThunderClan would be pleased to find me showing their home to a kittypet.”
“Go on,” Jake coaxed. “We won’t get caught. I just want to take a look.” He blinked at Talltail.
Talltail felt a prickle of unease. He couldn’t refuse his friend after everything they’d been through. “We’ll just look,” he muttered. “Then go somewhere else.”
Jake didn’t reply, but followed Talltail around the rocks to the smooth grass beyond. They skirted the hedge, staying outside Twolegplace until a row of dens jutted into their path.
Talltail halted at the bottom of a wooden fence. “You lead.” He flicked the tip of his tail. “This is your territory, not mine.”
Jake hopped easily onto the fence, balancing as Talltail scrambled up behind him. A maze of fence-tops zigzagged ahead. Jake began to pad along them, turning one way, then another, as they bypassed row after row of gardens. Talltail followed, concentrating as he tried to keep his balance on the narrow strip of wood despite the buffeting wind.
His paws ached with the effort by the time they’d crossed Twolegplace. As he spotted trees crowding beyond the fences, he hurried forward, sliding past Jake and taking the lead. There were faint ThunderClan scents as he neared.
Talltail dropped onto the forest floor and began sniffing the roots of an elm. No ThunderClan warrior had brushed past this bark. He padded on, heading deeper into the forest.
Leaves crunched behind him as Jake caught up. “I can smell Thunderpath!”
Talltail stiffened. They must be near the Thunderpath that cut between ThunderClan territory and ShadowClan’s forest as it headed close to Fourtrees. The claws that had been sunk into his belly ever since his dream suddenly tugged harder.
Jake paced around him, tail flicking excitedly. “The moor’s close?”
“Close enough.” Above, the branches clattered as wind stirred the forest.
“Let’s take a look,” Jake suggested.
“It’s dangerous,” Talltail told him. “We’d have to follow the Thunderpath along the ThunderClan border.”
“We’ve done dangerous things before.” Jake began to head toward the rumble of the Thunderpath. “Let’s go a little farther. I want to see WindClan territory.”
Talltail wondered if he should argue. But the tugging in his belly silenced him. Perhaps a glimpse of his old home would remind him why he’d left. Perhaps he could keep going: past WindClan territory, past Highstones. He could finally see the mountains for himself.
He followed Jake. His thoughts were as jumbled as the familiar scents that wreathed around him as he headed closer to Clan territory. Memories crowded at the edges of his mind: chasing rabbits across the moor; sitting vigil on Outlook Rock; plunging
through the heather with Doespring; the first time he’d outrun Stagpaw. Then he pictured Wrenkit and Hopkit scrambling clumsily over the tussocks to beg him for a badger ride. His heart twisted with a sudden and terrible ache.
“Which way now?” Jake’s call jolted him from his thoughts.
Talltail tasted the air. They were close to the Thunderpath. He glanced along the line of thick bushes at the forest’s edge, which crowded for light where it cut through the trees. “Let’s head along there.” The bushes would give them shelter from the Thunderpath, and somewhere to hide if a ThunderClan patrol passed.
He led Jake over the leaf-strewn forest floor, pushing through frost-withered bracken until he reached a long swathe of brambles. Ears straining for the sound of ThunderClan warriors, mouth open for scents, Talltail pushed on. The clouds began to clear, driven toward the horizon by the brisk wind. Before long, the sun was shining weakly through the branches. As it slid behind them, Talltail detected more familiar scents. Above the tang of ThunderClan and the stink of ShadowClan, he could smell the sweet scent of heather. Even in leaf-bare it seemed to drench the air. And the earthy musk of peat and rabbit rolled toward him. Without thinking, Talltail quickened his pace. Suddenly the Thunderpath veered away, leaving the cats trekking through thick forest. The ground steepened beneath Talltail’s paws and he was soon out of breath, climbing blindly through bracken until light showed between the trees at the top of the slope.
He wrinkled his nose as he picked up ThunderClan’s border scent. “We’re nearly there.” At last they broke from the trees. A deep hollow yawned ahead of them and Talltail stared at the four tall oaks growing at the center.
“Fourtrees!” His heart soared. “Come on!” Talltail streaked down the slope. “This territory belongs to all the Clans!” He suddenly felt more at ease than he had for moons, the ground familiar beneath his paws as he raced into the clearing between the oaks. He circled it, staring in delight at the towering trees. The claws in his belly seemed to uncurl and release him. His paws felt light.
“Those trees are gigantic!” Jake stood in the center of the hollow, staring wide-eyed into the branches. Then he looked around. “Which way is WindClan’s territory?” Talltail nodded at the far slope. Jake bounded toward it. “Come on.”
Talltail raced after him, leaping up past shriveled clumps of fern.
Jake stopped at the top and gazed across the moor. “Why did you ever want to leave?” he whispered. The heather rocked in the blustery wind, the wide swathes of grass streaming around it.
Talltail couldn’t reply. The border was only tail-lengths away. The scent of it seemed to reach deep into his chest. I left because I don’t belong here. But the words rang hollow in his ears. As the scents of wind and heather filled his nose, he felt a sense of belonging stronger than he’d ever felt. Cloudrunner had passed this way recently. And Dawnstripe. He could smell their trail. Larksplash, too. Talltail’s heart began to race. “I can’t go home!” He stared in panic at Jake. “They won’t want me! I broke the warrior code when I left my Clan. They’ll drive me away again!”
“Are you sure?” Jake padded around him, pelt ruffled by the wind. “You won’t know unless you go back.”
Talltail closed his eyes. Was the wind tugging him onto the moor, or was it the pull of home? His heart ached to see the camp again. And Palebird. Had the kits grown? They must have. They’d be eating fresh-kill by now. Perhaps he wouldn’t be too late to give them their first taste of lapwing.
“This is your home, Talltail.” Jake’s breath touched his ear fur. His green eyes glistened. “This is where you belong. Listen to your heart.”
WindClan. Longing seared through his chest. “I know,” Talltail whispered.
Jake touched Talltail’s cheek with his muzzle. “I’ll miss you.”
Talltail gasped. “Don’t go! Come with me! Come and meet my Clan!”
Jake stepped back. “This is where you belong, not me.” His mew was hardly more than a whisper. “My home is with my housefolk. He’ll be wondering where I am.”
Talltail’s throat tightened. “Will I ever see you again?”
Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the far horizon. “Who knows? Maybe.”
Hope flared in Talltail’s chest. “Become a warrior!” he blurted. “You’d be great! You learned how to hunt so quickly. And you can fight foxes!”
Jake dropped his gaze. “No, Talltail. I wouldn’t be happy.”
“You wouldn’t be happy with me?” Pain stabbed Talltail’s heart.
Jake lifted his eyes. “I can’t live as a warrior.” He looked away, his mew cracking. “But I’ll always remember you. You’ve shown me a life that I’ve always dreamed about. But now I know where I truly belong.”
“Then I’ll come with you and live in Twolegplace!” Talltail wanted to do anything to stop the pain in his heart.
“Don’t be rabbit-brained!” Jake’s eyes flashed. “You hate it there! You’d be so unhappy.” He paused, his tone softening. “I’d hate for you to be unhappy.”
“Then why are you leaving?” Talltail pleaded. “You’re the best friend I ever had.”
“I’ll always be your friend, Talltail,” Jake meowed. “But I’m a kittypet, and you’re a warrior.” He stepped forward and rested his muzzle on Talltail’s head. “You’ll always be a warrior.”
CHAPTER 40
You’ll always be a warrior. Jake’s words echoed in Talltail’s mind as he headed up the hill toward the WindClan camp. The kittypet had assured him he’d be okay going back through the woods.
“I’ll follow our trail through the brambles,” Jake had promised. “I’ll be fine.”
Talltail trusted him. Jake wasn’t a rabbit-brain. He’d learned enough to travel silently and keep his ears and nose open for signs of warrior patrols. Will I be fine, too? The idea of walking into his old home suddenly seemed far scarier than retracing his steps through enemy territory. Will they take me back?
Talltail forced his fur to smooth along his spine. He could smell his Clanmates all around him. Every tuft of heather carried familiar scents. Redclaw, Aspenfall, Mistmouse, and Appledawn had passed along this grassy track not long ago. Talltail imagined their paw prints still warm on the grass. He gazed across the swathe of dusky heather. Darker clumps of gorse grew up ahead, marking one end of the WindClan camp.
His heart pounded like rabbit paws on hollow ground. He pricked his ears. The wind blustered over the moor-top; far away a buzzard’s wings beat the air, and closer, the tiny, excited squeal of a kit shrilled through the air. Wrenkit!
Happiness flashed through Talltail’s paws. The brown she-kit had been less than a moon when he’d left. She must be over two moons old by now. He could hear her calling to her littermate.
“Flykit! Come and look!”
“I’m coming!”
Talltail paused. It sounded like the kits were out of camp, their mews as clear as birdcalls beyond the heather. He slid between the branches and crept forward, peering through the stems.
Wrenkit was sniffing at the entrance to a rabbit burrow. “Should we go in?”
Flykit blinked, huge-eyed. “It’s very dark down there.”
“We can use our noses and whiskers to find our way.”
“What if we meet a rabbit?” Talltail could see Flykit’s pelt spiking. He was no bigger than a half-grown rabbit himself. But it wasn’t rabbits he should be afraid of. Talltail’s fur rippled along his spine. They knew nothing about tunneling. They might get lost. And the tunnels had been neglected for moons. No one had checked their roofs or walls, or shored up the stretches weakened by rain or frost. Talltail began to nose his way out of the heather. He had to stop the kits before they disappeared inside.
A shadow flitted across the grass. Wings beat the air overhead. Talltail looked up. A hawk circled low just above him. He could see by the tilt of its head that it was watching the kits. They’d make a tasty treat for a bird of prey and its young. As Talltail opened his mouth to warn t
hem, the hawk folded its wings and plummeted straight down.
“Wrenkit!” Talltail lunged forward. “Watch out!”
Wrenkit jerked up her head, eyes wide in shock. Flykit jumped back, hissing. The air whistled above as the hawk dived.
Talltail thrust out his forepaws, landing squarely across the two frozen kits. Pulling them to him, he bundled them down the rabbit hole before leaping high into the air. He unsheathed his claws and swiped at the hawk as it flapped at his head. Its broad, brown wings stuttered and stalled, sending feathers spiraling down.
Talltail hooked the bird from the sky and pinned it to the ground. Faster than a snake, he bit down on its thick neck, crunching through muscle and bone. The hawk fell still beneath him.
Wrenkit’s tiny face stared out of the hole. “You caught it!” she squeaked.
Flykit crept from the shadows, pelt thick with soil. “Talltail?” He blinked, confusion clouding his gaze. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s come home!” Wrenkit’s eyes lit up. “I knew he would!” She bounced toward Talltail, clambering onto his shoulders as he crouched over the body of the hawk. “And he saved us!”
“No one’s ever caught a hawk before!” Flykit stared at the golden feathers of the dead bird.
“Whiteberry might disagree with you,” Talltail purred. It felt good to feel kit paws on his shoulders again. He glanced at Flykit. “Do you want a badger ride home?”
Flykit looked crestfallen. “We were going to sneak back through the dirtplace tunnel,” he mewed. “We’re not supposed to be out of the camp.”
“No! You’re not!” Larksplash’s stern mew sounded from upslope. She was marching toward them, tail flicking angrily.
Talltail watched, his breath catching in his throat. The she-cat’s eyes were fixed on the kits.
“Palebird was worried sick—” Larksplash halted. “Talltail?” She blinked at him in disbelief. “You’re back?” Her gaze dropped to the hawk at his paws.
“Yes, I’m back.” Talltail leaned down and nosed the hawk. “I’ve brought prey.”
Wrenkit clung to his shoulders, her sharp claws digging in. “He saved us!” she squealed. “That hawk was diving at us and Talltail jumped up and plucked it out of the air like it was a swallow.”
