Chapter 7

The catnip plants were growing on the edge of a ditch behind an elder human's house. It was a known flea repellent, the scent utterly intoxicating to felines while keeping the worst of the bloodsuckers at bay. Retrieving it was a common apprentice chore whenever the Clan could find some.

With stars fading into view in a dark, ruddy sky, the three cats made their way to the edge of a parking lot and peered outward from the bushes. Apprentices could go a short ways from camp without a chaperon, but Mosspaw felt better with the warrior by their side. Bellpaw shot an ireful glance at her that went ignored as she scoured the concrete field for any sign of trouble.

Leafwhisker's ears pivoted around, her eyes sharp, and her nose twitched. "Go."

The three of them trotted across the warm, rough stone. First Mosspaw, then Leafwhisker, with Bellpaw trailing along behind. There were a decent number of cars out. The aroma of fresh chicken trickled through the air. It was important to stay alert for humans and their metal contraptions, lest one catch them off guard in the noisy Cityscape and get too close for comfort.

"Bellpaw, keep up," said the tortoiseshell warrior, her voice gruff like a jagged knife's edge.

Mosspaw paused to look back. She scented the air, but all she could find were the common odors she'd come to expect of a parking lot around this time of day. Something rumbled in her ear, and she turned to see that a car was rounding the corner. She ducked beneath a quiet one and waited for it to pass.

They hopped over a rim and onto the relative safety of dry mulch. A few bushes and a dying tree served as their cover at the halfway point. Leafwhisker gave them each a quick look and rose up tall, parting her jaws to taste the air.

They finished the trip across the parking lot, their pads aching from the sharp terrain, and dove beneath a cluster of elephant ear leaves. Mosspaw surveyed the area ahead and led the way onward. They rushed through a few back yards to reach the narrow footpaths their Clan had carved out over the moons. Crouching beneath an arching tunnel of unkempt grass, the cats followed their secret trail until they were close enough to the herbs.

At last, they reached the border of a rocky dip in the ground several tail lengths deep. Fresh catnip filled their noses. The porch light on the house across from them betrayed no signs of life but the bugs swarming around in its glow.

The Clan cats emerged from hiding and began plucking stems as close to the ground as they could. Their mouths watered and her heads felt light. Mosspaw piled five of them before she noticed the gentle murmur of Bellpaw's purr. Leafwhisker half-tilted a few times, her instinct tempting her to drop and bathe herself in the enticing treat that was catnip. When they had each gathered a sizable collection, they went to gather up the herbs when something caught Leafwhisker's eye. Something that the smell had thoroughly masked.

The warrior motioned with her tail. Mosspaw dropped her load. Bellpaw's hit the ground a heartbeat after. They dropped down as low to the earth as they could. With Leafwhisker in the lead, they slunk down from stone to stone until landing on the bone-dry creek bed.

There was a circular tunnel on either end of the ditch. The one they faced was scarcely penetrated by the light of the moon. There was a slight draft running through it, and now that they were level with it, they caught the unmistakable stench of death. The apprentices dared draw closer, one on either side of Leafwhisker, and saw a hind leg. It was just visible on the edge of the tunnel's shadowy veil.

"Pharaoh's colony," wondered Bellpaw aloud, "or just a loner?"

"In either case, the scent's gone by now," muttered Leafwhisker. "It's not an overly recent death." She stepped close enough to better gauge it, and recoiled, gagging. "Dried blood. It's at least a day old; I wouldn't be surprised if maggots hatched out of the body tomorrow."

"I think… I think we should hurry back."

#

"My, my. Your hovel's lively tonight."

Carmen looked over to see a silver feline on the other side of the chain link fence. The moonlight shimmered against his spotted pelt, his golden eyes playful yet dangerous. His features weren't easy to understand at first, but it didn't take long for his breed to click: he was an Egyptian Mau!

Carmen got to her feet to run and greet him. It was so refreshing to see another Purebred cat out here. She realized after a few heartbeats that she stood rooted to the spot. Her fur bristled. Her muscles tensed. Her ears drew back. Purebred or not, the air crackled with danger now that Pharaoh had arrived.

Darkwood stood between them, allowing the full brunt of his frame to show. His tail was still and his head was high while all around him chaos was breaking out. Strange cats appeared out of the cover of darkness, surrounding the Clan's home. Warriors and apprentices ran to the fence with growls and hisses and claws itching for a kill. Carmen trembled, coiled as tight as her body would let her, frozen in the center of it all. The queens hurried past her on their way back inside; cats followed them, each with a kit in their jaws.

"Leave," said Darkwood, glaring down at the rival leader.

"No, I don't think we will," Pharaoh purred, his voice like velvet. "Every other cat in the City knows their place. Treats me with the respect I deserve. Understands that life is better when you submit to a proper king. Everyone, except you lot."

"Well, you're in luck," he growled. "The Clan is moving. We're finding a new place to live that's far from your colony's range."

Carmen stared at him. Those were bold claims to make when they had no idea just how long this journey would be. What if it was closer than they thought?

"Oh, no, no, that won't do. It simply won't do." Pharoah padded casually along the other side of the fence, rubbing against it to drown Clan scent with his own. "I can't let you disrespect me and run away. What will my subjects think?"

"Just once in your life, Pharaoh, don't cause any trouble. You don't stand to gain anything by picking a fight with us, especially now."

"I grow bored of your pleading," he said, then split the air with a yowl.

Metal clinked as bodies flew up the side of the fence. The colony cats dropped down atop warriors and clawed at their backs. Screeches filled her ears. Carmen willed herself to move, to do anything at all, but her senses were blinded with panic.

#

Hawktalon threw one of Pharaoh's goons into another. He saw Steelclaw ripping into his opponent. Ironpaw wrestled with a lanky grey tabby and Stainpelt attacked with a flurry of blows quick as a blink. Some "inner guard" this whole nonsense turned out to be! Not a one of them had been prepared. Never mind. He should have known the whole thing was a daydream from the start. What point was there in it? The idea of a Clan within a Clan? A secret club of felines trying to be extra vigilant? What had they been thinking?

And why was Hawktalon still so caught up on it?

He pushed the thoughts out of mind. Whiteroad was tearing at a colony cat's throat. She sank her fangs into flesh and tore away a chunk. Blood spilled on the concrete. Barbclaw and Slagpaw faced down two strangers. The latter's breaths came in ragged bursts. Windfang dragged her claws along the side of her enemy's face. Shadefur was dragging a limp scrap of fur back into camp.

He charged into a new battle. A blue-gray she cat swiped at his muzzle. She dodged his claws. She circled around and bit into his hind leg. He twisted, pulling her close, and latched onto her skull with both forepaws. She released him and tried to get away. Hawktalon raked his claws through her skin. He shredded her ears. Her screeches were deafening. He released her and found someone new.

A black and white tom who was missing one of his eyes. Hawktalon tackled him to the ground and they were a storm of fur. Droplets of blood hit the broken stone beneath them. He felt a burning pain spread across his ribs. He pinned the other cat and reached down to blind him, his claws coming away with a tattered yellow ball.

Two of Pharaoh's biggest fighters came next. Both orange, one with white. They probably thought they outmatched him. Hawktalon weaved between them and turned to pounce on one. He fell beneath the warrior's weight. Teeth marred his shoulder, but he ignored it. He reached down and ripped his target's throat apart. As that one limped away, Leaving a trail of wet crimson, Hawktalon chased off the other one.

Darkwood was holding off Pharaoh and one of his underlings; while their leader lacked proper claws, he made up for it in raw strength. Hawktalon knew he could handle himself, especially against Pharaoh. That idiot was just about as vain as Carmen and wouldn't risk getting himself too dirty.

Speaking of the kittypet though, she needed to get to safety. Hawktalon ran over to the other side of the yard. He stood over her, panting, blood dripping from his pelt. She stared at him, utterly petrified.

"Get inside," he told her, raising his voice over the noise of battle. "See if you can help Shadefur. Go!"

She scurried back into the building, and Hawktalon rushed to his leader's side.