“Just a moment,” Leafstar meowed. “I haven’t said that we’re going to deal with anything.”
“You can’t ignore this.” There was a flame burning in Petalnose’s blue eyes that Leafstar had never seen there before. “How many more cats does this Twoleg get to torture?”
“I think you should call a Clan meeting,” Sharpclaw suggested. “See what other cats think.”
Leafstar considered her deputy’s idea for a moment. She wasn’t happy about it; she felt as if she was putting a paw into a fast-flowing river that might well sweep her away, and her Clanmates with her. But Sharpclaw and Petalnose had a point: The Clan was at risk with this cruel Twoleg living so close to their borders.
“Very well,” she decided, and jumped up to the top of the Rockpile.
The clouds had built up while Leafstar and Shrewtooth were returning from the woods, and a cold wind buffeted her fur as she stood on the smooth gray boulders. She shivered as she let out a yowl. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Rockpile for a Clan meeting!”
Cherrytail, Rockshade, and Waspwhisker appeared from the warriors’ den and padded down the trail. Lichenfur and Tangle emerged to sit in the entrance to their den, while Clovertail listened from the ledge outside the new birthing den. Sagepaw joined his littermate, Mintpaw, near Echosong’s den. The medicine cat sat in the entrance, where she could keep an eye on Shrewtooth as he slept.
Fallowfern guided her kits down the trail from the nursery and tried hard to make them sit quietly while they bounced around with excitement. Billystorm, Ebonyclaw, and Frecklepaw appeared from the direction of the training area, and sat side by side, grooming sand out of their pelts.
Leafstar looked around. None of the newcomers had arrived for the meeting, nor had Harveymoon and Macgyver. They must still be out on patrol. She was about to start speaking, when she spotted Patchfoot heading up the gorge with Cora, Shorty, and Sparrowpelt. They looked surprised to see a Clan meeting in progress, and bounded up to listen.
Leafstar began by explaining what had happened that morning, adding the story of Petalnose’s imprisonment for the benefit of those cats who hadn’t been Clan members at the time. While she was still speaking Stick’s patrol returned, with Coal, Bouncefire, and Tinycloud, who were quickly brought up to date by their Clanmates.
As Leafstar finished, she saw pelts beginning to fluff up, claws sliding out, tails lashing, as her warriors learned what had happened to Petalnose and Shrewtooth. Her misgivings increased.
Sharpclaw will easily convince them we have to fight back. And I’m not sure that’s the right thing. It’s not the same as fighting against the rats.
“So why are you telling us this?” Cherrytail called. “What are we going to do about it?”
“Claw the Twolegs’ ears off!” Sparrowpelt yowled from the back of the crowd.
“Yes, and his dog!” Tinycloud added.
Murmurs of agreement rose from the rest of the Clan, though Leafstar noticed that the new warriors didn’t join in. They sat close together, glancing uneasily at one another and saying nothing.
Sharpclaw rose to his paws from where he was sitting at the foot of the Rockpile, and raised his tail for silence. “You’re right, something must be done,” he began, “but—”
He broke off as Harveymoon and Macgyver raced over the rim of the gorge and skittered down the trail, only just managing to come to a halt at the edge of the crowd of cats.
“Sorry!” Harveymoon panted. “I know we’re late, but Macgyver’s Twolegs didn’t let him out.”
“What’s going on here?” Macgyver wheezed.
Tinycloud bounced over to them and repeated the story in an excited whisper while Sharpclaw continued.
“This Twoleg is a danger to any cat who goes near him. He could be a danger to us, especially if we decide to expand our territory on that side of the gorge. Something has to be done.”
“I know!” Sparrowpelt jumped up. “Let’s dig a big pit and lure the Twoleg into it.”
“Great idea!” his littermate Cherrytail agreed. “We could throw things at him.”
Sharpclaw rolled his eyes. “Right, let me know when you’ve dug a pit big enough. Like, by next leaf-bare.”
Mrrows of amusement broke out among the Clan. Sparrowpelt sat down again, twisting his head to give his back a couple of licks, trying to seem unconcerned.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Harveymoon announced, bouncing gently on his paws. “Let me go and make friends with the Twoleg. I could purr and stuff to make him like me, and he’d take me inside his den—”
“And then we’d have to rescue you, mouse-brain!” Tinycloud interrupted.
“No, listen!” Harveymoon kinked his tail over his broad white back. “Then I let the rest of you in. And we trap the Twoleg in his own den!”
There was silence as the Clan thought about this. “What would we do with the Twoleg once we trapped him?” Leafstar asked. “And what about the dog?”
Harveymoon tipped his head to one side, looking puzzled.
“Any more brilliant ideas?” Sharpclaw meowed scathingly.
Before Harveymoon could say anything, a loud wail came from Echosong’s den. The medicine cat vanished rapidly inside, and returned a heartbeat later with Shrewtooth. She padded close beside him as they came to join the meeting.
“Nightmares,” she mewed briefly in explanation. “I think he’ll feel better if he’s with the rest of us.”
“Sorry,” Shrewtooth muttered, his head hanging.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Leafstar told him. “And you’re welcome to join us. You might come up with some useful ideas.”
“We have an idea.” Bouncefire and Rockshade had been murmuring to each other with their heads close together; now Bouncefire rose to his paws. “We’re SkyClan cats, right? So we should use SkyClan skills to deal with the Twoleg.”
Rockshade stood beside his littermate. “Some of us should climb trees near the Twoleg nest. Then some others lure the Twoleg out and underneath the trees.”
“And then we jump on him!” Bouncefire finished. “That’s using skills from how we hunt prey. Why should we treat the Twoleg like a different kind of enemy?”
“Because he is a different kind of enemy!” Coal leaped to his paws. “Are you all flea-brained? You’ve no idea what you’re getting yourselves into.”
Several cats flinched with surprise as the black tom spoke. Leafstar scanned the group of newcomers. It was as clear as the sun in greenleaf that none of them wanted to take part in a raid on the Twoleg.
What do they know about Twolegs that we don’t?
“Go on, Coal,” she prompted.
But it was Cora who spoke. “Why are you talking about hurting this Twoleg?” she demanded. “That’s not the kind of thing that cats do. You should stay well clear, and be thankful you can live separately, here in the gorge. If you take on Twolegs, you are risking too much. They can hurt you worse than dogs or foxes, you know. This is not a battle that can be won—or should be fought,” she finished, sitting down again with a swish of her tail.
Yowls of protest broke out from among the Clan.
“How do you know we can’t win?” Waspwhisker growled.
“Yes,” Billystorm agreed. “We’re strong, and we can fight.”
“I think you’re scared!” Ebonyclaw meowed, glaring at the newcomers.
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Leafstar raised her tail to end the protests. “No cat is scared of the Twoleg. We just need to find a way to teach him to stop hurting cats.”
A short silence followed her words; it was broken by Stick, who stood up and let his gaze travel solemnly around the Clan until every cat was waiting for him to speak.
“Fear is your best weapon,” he announced quietly. “Fear leaves you hollow, paralyzed, unable to think.” He dipped his head toward Shrewtooth, who was quaking miserably at the back of the crowd. “You can’t hurt the Twoleg,” Stick went on, “but you can frighten him.”