“You’ve got your paws full there,” Plumwillow observed with a small mrrow of laughter.
“I certainly have!” Hawkwing agreed. “But they—”
He broke off at the distant sound: the bark of a Twoleg monster. His contented mood faded and he let out a huff of annoyance. “Twolegs again!”
Through the long days of greenleaf the sun had shone brightly.
Prey had been running well, and every cat was well fed.
There’s only been one problem with the warm weather: Twolegs!
Every cat had thought it was odd that the Twolegs had made nests beside the lake and then left them behind. But as soon as the days got warmer, they had come back. The lake, which should have been peaceful under the brilliant blue sky, was suddenly surrounded by Twolegs, playing and shouting and sometimes even throwing themselves into the water to splash about.
All of them with monsters full of Twoleg-stuff, Hawkwing thought irritably. And they run around as if they own the place!
“I wish they’d all just go away,” he complained.
“Some of them even bring dogs,” Plumwillow responded. With an anxious glance at the kits, she added, “They come far too close to our camp for my liking.”
“But the dogs look pretty stupid.” Hawkwing tried to reassure her. “They mostly lie around on the grass and chase sticks the Twolegs throw.”
“M aybe…” Plumwillow still looked uneasy. “But do you know what I saw the other day? A Twoleg got into a water monster! It tore around the lake, churning up the water and scaring the ducks! What next, that’s what I want to know.”
Hawkwing had no idea. He only knew that the territory seemed to get noisier every day, and it felt more dangerous. He hadn’t told
Plumwillow, because he didn’t want to upset her, but sometimes when he and Curlypaw had been out hunting, Twolegs had spotted them and tried to coax them closer. But he and his apprentice knew the tricks Twolegs liked to play; they had always managed to run off before the Twolegs could grab them.
Why do Twolegs always think you want to go to them, anyway?
Like they’re so fascinating!
The roar of another monster filled the air, growing rapidly louder and then stopping abruptly. Leafstar, who was chatting with Firefern a couple of tail-lengths away, glanced up and caught
Hawkwing’s gaze.
“It sounds like we have more Twoleg company,” Hawkwing remarked.
Leafstar let out an exasperated noise. “We just need to keep our distance,” she mewed.
That’s been Leafstar’s solution ever since the Twolegs appeared, Hawkwing thought. But is that even possible? There are so many of them now, swarming all over.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, the cats of SkyClan gathered around the fresh-kill pile to eat. Hawkwing basked in the scarlet light, thinking of how much he loved greenleaf. The long days and nights, the beautiful sunsets…
But then his thoughts flew back to Pebbleshine, and the pain of loss gripped his heart again as if powerful claws were sinking into it. The prey in his belly felt heavy as he remembered how
Pebbleshine’s fur shone in sunlight. She must be close to kitting by now, he thought. Or maybe our kits are already born.
To distract himself from these dark thoughts, he turned to Plumwillow’s kits.
“Look, kits,” he meowed, scratching up some moss from the floor of the camp and patting it into a ball. “Which of you can throw this moss-ball farthest?”
“I can!”
“Can not!”
“Watch me!”
As his gaze followed the three kits, scrambling and falling over each other’s paws, shredding the moss-ball in their eagerness, Hawkwing found the ache in his heart eased.
Then a different sound reached Hawkwing’s ears, drowning the happy squeaking of the kits. That’s a dog barking—and another, and another!
Hawkwing’s belly lurched in surprise as he realized how close the dogs were. They’re normally so lazy they stay by the lake, well away from our camp. He had only a moment, just enough time to glance across at Leafstar, before four dogs burst into the camp.
Their huge paws slammed against the ground, their jaws drooling as they growled. Hawkwing gagged as their scent flooded over him.
These weren’t like the dogs Hawkwing had seen with their Twolegs, lounging on the grass beside the Twoleg dens. One of those had been even smaller than a cat, wearing some weird kind of Twoleg pelt. All four of these dogs were big and fast, lean and long-legged with sleek brindled pelts. Their jaws gaped to show rows of huge, sharp teeth. Hawkwing almost thought they were some kind of wild creature, until he noticed their Twoleg collars.
As the dogs spotted the group of cats their eyes rolled in excitement. Their barking grew even louder. Without taking the time to think, Hawkwing grabbed Dewkit by the scruff and shoved Reedkit onto his back. “Run!” he mumbled to Plumwillow through his mouthful of fur as he pushed Finkit toward her.
Plumwillow grabbed Finkit but stumbled in her haste as she picked him up. One of the dogs spotted her and raced toward her.
After one terrified glance Plumwillow whipped around and kept pace with Hawkwing as he scrambled up the steep slope at the far side of the camp and took off into the woods. Behind him he heard more barking, and the panic-stricken screeching of his Clanmates, but he had no time to look back.
The dogs were on their trail.
Chapter 30
Hawkwing fled into the trees with Plumwillow at his side, racing along until his lungs burned. He risked a glance over his shoulder and realized that only one dog was following them. But it was much bigger than they were, and Hawkwing knew they would be outmatched if it came to a fight.
The dog’s disgusting scent was all around them, and Hawkwing could hear its panting breath. It ran with its jaws open, its tongue lolling out, and it seemed tireless.
We’re not going to make it… Hawkwing remembered how
Echosong had prophesied that bad things would happen if they stayed beside the lake. Was I wrong not to speak up and support her? he asked himself. After all we’ve been through, is this how SkyClan will end?
Then Hawkwing spotted a gorse thicket at the bottom of a rocky slope. “Down there!” he gasped.
Together he and Plumwillow scrambled down the slope, the kits letting out shrill wails of terror. When they reached the thicket they shoved the kits deep within the thorns, followed them as far as they could, then turned to face the dog.
“It might be too big to get at us in here,” Plumwillow panted.
At first the dog whined and scrabbled around at the edge of the thicket, and Hawkwing began to hope that it would get bored and go away. But then its whines changed to snarls of frustration and it began to push its way into the gorse, ignoring the thorns that tore at its pelt.
Hawkwing slid out his claws. “Back off, mange-pelt!” he growled.
He could feel the dog’s hot breath on his face. “If it comes in, go for its eyes,” he whispered to Plumwillow.
But before the dog could attack, distant barking sounded from the direction of the camp. The dog halted, its head raised to listen, and Hawkwing caught his breath, suddenly hopeful. The barking came again; the dog swung its head around, then with a last snarl it backed out of the gorse thicket and ran off.
Thank StarClan! Hawkwing thought as he poked his head out of the bushes to watch it go.