Chapter 2

Wind buffeted Boots' fur, stinging his eyes and nose. The sun blazed pale white above his head, cloaked in thin, drifting clouds.

Moon bounded many tail-lengths ahead of him. Her feathery tail swished, exhilaration made her paws dance.

Boots didn't understand what was so fantastic about the moors that it caused his sister such joy. The grass scraped against his paw pads, and the wind was strong enough to blow him back to the alleyway. And here, Boots was so small, just a speck against the great green world.

"Come on, Boots!" Moon hollered. "I smell a bird!" She gazed down at him from a steep slope.

Boots' stomach shook with hunger. He raced ahead, paws hardly making a sound as he reached Moon's side. Her chest swelled as she drank in a huge breath. "Isn't this place great? Finally, we're rid of that foul monster-stench!" She shook out her fur and purred.

Boots glanced down at the rolling grasslands ahead. Green blades stretched as far as he could see; the scent of wildflowers and warm prey wafted on a cool breeze.

"I-I suppose it is better than town," he stammered uncertainly. The memory of the battling cats shook him to his core. "But shouldn't we go back? We're not wild. We don't belong out here."

Moon's cheeriness faltered. "Maybe we do," she meowed briskly. The white she-cat plunged down the slope, and Boots' stomach tightened. As he slowly followed her, he wished only for his easy housecat life.

Days spent on the sofa eating pellets filled his mind. Basking in the sun, playing with fat yarn balls, chasing mice in the safety of their yard... And a small, furious voice screamed in the darkest corners of Boots' heart. It's her fault we were abandoned!

Moon's white pelt shimmered under the sunlight as she frolicked through a patch of heather. Boots couldn't bring himself to be truly angry at her.

Only bitter.

I told her to stop messing with our housefolk. Shredding those curtains must have brought them to their breaking point… A soft growl escaped his throat. Afraid of his own rage, he pushed the thoughts away.

"So, about that bird?" Boots muttered, catching up with his littermate.

"Oh, right." Moon tensed. She parted her jaws, then began to stalk through the tall grass. Boots stuck close beside her, ears pricked and tail erect. Moon came to a halt. "I've lost it now." She sighed, whisking around. "But I'm sure there's plenty more prey around here. Let's keep looking."

Boots flexed his claws, starvation tightening in his stomach. "Okay."

They thundered over the grass, sending flower petals soaring. Boots' tail streamed out behind him as another sharp gust of wind blew past.

Moon took the lead, turning sharply to chase down the scent of hare on the breeze. Boots' bell sang softly, but even at this pace, he managed to keep it unmoving against his chest.

Treetops came into view, blue-gray against the bright sun.

Moon threw a look over her shoulder. Her blue eyes gleamed. "A forest!"

Boots' heart skipped a beat. A forest? Like the ones his mother used to tell him about? He managed to speed up, coming to race at Moon's flank. As they neared, the details became more precise. Trees overflowing with green leaves, already fading to bright amber and gold in some places; thick, intertwined boughs, dancing with squirrels and birds; even the ground became softer, laden with thick-leaved plants.

Without hesitation, Moon dove into the shadow-dappled forest. Uncertainty pricking his pelt, Boots slowly followed. Sunbeams warmed his pelt; leaves crunched under his paw.

"The hare is nearby!" Moon called softly. She charged onwards, disappearing behind a tight row of oaks.

Before he could follow, a smell hit Boots' scent glands. He skidded to a halt, sending leaves spraying. Some strange, tangy taste laced the air. His fur rose — the smell was familiar, and not welcoming. In a heartbeat, all the excitement was sapped from his small body and replaced with a frantic urge to escape.

"Moon!" Boots shrieked.

She must have been too far ahead to hear him.

Too soon, the mass of fangs and claws burst out of the undergrowth.

Boots turned to run — but where? Back to town? Moon might never be able to find him again. Further into the forest? But the land was dangerous and unfamiliar.

The hulking dog lunged.

Boots dodged with a yelp. "Moon!" he screamed again. Rearing onto his hindlegs, he slashed blindly at his attacker. The dog thrust its head into him and sent him crashing on his back. Boots began to rise, but the dog slammed a paw down on his chest. The breath shot out of his body. "Help me!" Boots croaked.

Hot breath tickled his fur. Drool spattered on the grass beside him.

The dog craned its head under itself, taking firm hold of Boots' hindleg. It jerked its chin upward and sent the small cat flying. The world spun around him. He smashed against the earth. As Boots lay, dazed, waiting for his end, a blurry figure crashed out of the trees. It was followed by another, and another, and another.

Boots gasped for air, writhing in pain. Had more dogs come to finish him off? Had they gotten to Moon? At the thought of his sister, he lurched to his paws. He had to find her — she had to be okay.

An agonized howl ripped through the air.

Boots whipped around. Four muscular cats were flinging themselves at the dog. A black-and-white she-cat gripped its foreleg in her jaws and clamped down hard. A brown tabby sprang onto the bloodthirsty canine's back.

World reeling, Boots started deeper into the forest, but pain streaked through his leg as he'd never felt before. He cried out, collapsing. His paw gleamed with hot, sticky blood, jutting out at an awkward angle. As he lay, panting, two more shapes flew towards him.

One pelt was snowy-white, bristling with terror.

"Moon…" Boots rasped.

Moon dropped beside him. "Boots, are you okay? I thought you were right behind me!" She nosed his flank.

Another howl pierced his ears, followed by the sound of heavy pawsteps and quaking gorse. The scent of dog faded; it had fled.

Boots' chest heaved fitfully. Moon's face was blurry, nothing but a pool of white and blue. Her voice became muffled. Boots fell into blackness.

. . .

Moon buried her face in her brother's fur, legs trembling. His breath was slow and rasping, and blood pooled around his underfed body.

"Boots, wake up," she mewed softly, pawing at his flank.

The only moving thing was the trees, stirred by a gentle breeze. Boots was still.

"Don't worry, young cat," came a voice. Moon gazed over her shoulder at the golden she-cat who had escorted her here. "He will survive."

Moon swallowed. Muscles rippled under the she-cat's vibrant fur, and the cats standing behind her were caked in dog's blood, claws unsheathed.

"Don't be afraid," murmured the golden cat, padding forward. "My cats wish you no harm. My name is Creststar. Who are you?"

"Moon. What do you want?" She strained to keep the fear out of her voice.

"I was merely on patrol when a few of my warriors reported the scent of dog. I sent them on ahead, and that's when I came across you," Creststar explained. "I'm sorry for scaring away your hare."

"Hare?" A blood-splattered tom stepped forward. "We're you chasing a hare on our territory?"

Moon backed up, planting herself firmly in front of Boots. "Wh-what do you mean? 'Warriors'? 'Territory?'"

"Don't frighten her, Pebblefur," Creststar meowed softly. "Moon, these are a few of my warriors, Pebblefur, Beanstalk, Brambyleaf, and my deputy, Pinefoot."

Moon gawked at the cats. "So you're wild cats?" she murmured.

"I suppose you could call us that."

Moon drank in their scent: leaf mold, mud, mouse, and… something familiar.

"You smell of town," she meowed.

"Town?" Creststar echoed. "Yes. Many of us came from town. We're the Rebellion, a group of rogues, loners, and kittypets, who were called to the forest."

Moon's head spun. What was this cat talking about?

"I don't know much about it myself," Creststar admitted. "I've only been a leader for eight seasons, and I lived my whole life as a loner before this."

"Enough talking, Creststar," said a russet tabby, stalking forward. "Let's get this tom to Canarypelt before he bleeds to death."

Moon stiffened as Pebblefur thrust past her, scooping Boots into his jaws. "This cat is as light as a kit!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of fur.

"Make sure to give him some prey once he's awake," Creststar ordered. "Moon, are you okay with coming to our camp? We will treat your brother's wound."

Reluctance snaked through Moon. Maybe the wilderness really was more unpredictable than town — maybe she should go back. But at the thought of the bare paths and rank scents, she quickly dismissed the idea. "Yes. Please help him."

"Certainly. Follow us." Creststar slipped under the overgrowth, her lithe body vanishing between the leaves. Moon watched as Beanstalk, Brambyleaf, and Pinefoot copied. Pebblefur remained exposed, dragging Boots across the ground.

"Do you need help?" Moon offered meekly.

"No." Pebblefur trudged past her, nettles swishing around his paws.

She soon realized that they were leaving the forest, returning through the way she had come in. Creststar and the others emerged into the sunlight.

"I don't like the open," she meowed, slicking her fur back. "But don't worry, our camp is well foliaged."

Moon nodded awkwardly as the group headed onto the open moors.

Beanstalk, a black-and-white she-cat, came to pad at Moon's side. "I'm sure Canarypelt will take good care of your brother," she mewed reassuringly.

Moon cast her a thankful glance. "I don't know what we're going to do afterward."

"You're a kittypet, aren't you?" inquired Beanstalk.

"K-kittypet?"

"O-oh, right. Housecat. How could I forget? I used to be one, but, then again, that was ages ago."

"Why did you decide to leave?"

"Well, my brother, Pebblefur, was the first to join the Rebellion. He had scented them before from our garden and told me about how free they seemed. Then he left. After that, he convinced our sister, Froststripe, to follow. And I got lonely, so I tagged along." Beanstalk's fur ruffled with excitement as she spoke. "Why did you leave? Do you want to be a wild cat?"

Moon tensed. "My housefolk got rid of me."

Beanstalk blinked, then glanced away. "Oh… I'm sorry to hear that."

Moon shrugged, speeding up. She fell in beside Pebblefur, where she felt most comfortable keeping an eye on Boots.

"We're almost there," Creststar announced. "Pebblefur, take him to the medicine den. Pinefoot, Beanstalk, will you show Moon to the warriors' den? She can rest there for now, and make sure the others don't hound her with questions."

Moon's eyes widened as the ground beneath her began to slope downwards. The cats were stalking down a steep path leading into a fern-filled hollow.

The leaves brushed against her pelt, cool and wet, as she reached the hollow. Ferns grew from the ground, trailed from the walls, and circled the edge of the hollow, completely cloaking the Rebellion's camp. The foliage rustled with bustling cats. Some were eating delicious-smelling food, locked in intense play-fights, or huddled and gossiping to each other.

Moon craned her neck as Pebblefur veered away. She watched, breath bated, as he carried Boots to a small, cracked stone at the other end of camp.

Creststar dipped her head to Moon. "Come to me if you need anything. I'll be in my den." She whisked away towards a snapped aspen, ferns closing behind her. Brambyleaf stared at Moon silently before plunging into the shadows.

Pinefoot flicked her tail. "Come on. Let's hurry." She and Beanstalk flanked Moon as they padded through the dark camp. Confused glances met them, some hiding curiousness, others contempt. Moon's pelt flared as all attention landed on her. Pinefoot came to a stop in front of a tangle of brambles crowding around a tree stump.

"There are plenty of nests for you to use," Beanstalk meowed, nudging Moon forward.

"I'll tell the Clan about you, so don't worry about surprising anyone," Pinefoot added.

Moon nodded gratefully to them. She slipped into the thick brambles, feeling a soft bed of leaves and moss under her paws. Moon curled up, watching the camp through slitted eyes.

I've never imagined such a place. It's… incredible.