Chapter 5

Vinepaw didn't know where she was going, but knew she'd rather be anywhere than back there in that cramped little building getting her pelt shredded. Countless angled paths sprawled out before her, each one bathed in more blinding hues than the last. Cars rushed past with nary a thought for what lay before their deadly bulk, and where there was stillness, there was a cacophony of horns filling the warm morning air.

Vinepaw was a shadow in the soft blue light of dusk. Even with all the artificial lights, she was hard for the humans to spot as she weaved a snaking path between their feet. She alternated between sidewalks and alleyways in the hope of losing any cat who'd bother chasing after her.

She ran until she found an alley behind an old concrete shell. It seemed like a quiet enough place to stop and catch her breath. Once air was easier and her body didn't burn so much, she padded over to the doorway and peered inside.

The inside was veiled in heavy darkness, dawn's light a long ways from seeping through to the musty interior. Vinepaw carefully ventured onward, stepping into clumps of dust and debris here and there. She halted in the center of the room with a growing ache in her gut. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Despite it all, her appetite had finally caught up to her after all that running.

And it just so happened that a lizard was nearby. After her first taste of anole, she'd fallen in love. With nothing better to do, she crept around until she found it sleeping on a plank of rotting wood. It was an easy catch, even for a novice, and she found a spot to settle down and eat.

"You're an out-of-towner, right?"

She jumped and dropped her prey, fur bristling at the flat, steely voice from the shadows.

"You have their scent."

"I just… I-I was just… I'm sorry! Is this your place? I didn't mean… I just didn't s-smell you… I wasn't stealing food. Or I didn't-I didn't mean to…"

"Relax, kit. What d' you mean by that anyway," she jumped down from somewhere high, revealing a tall dark pelt with faint Bengal spots, "about stealing food? Food belongs to the cat that finds it."

"I…" She took in the stranger's calm demeanor and started to smooth her pelt. "It's just that where we used to live, we had our own territory and stuff. Other cats weren't supposed to come in and hunt there because it belonged to the Clan. Other cats had that too, but we never really talked or anything since they were in different parts of the City."

"What in the world was that system for?" The stranger gave her shoulder a few licks. "Just share the City and the food."

"There wasn't enough to go around," she explained. "The Clan needed that land to be ours and all the food in it, too, to take care of ourselves and our Clanmates."

She paused mid lick, then swiped her tongue across her muzzle. "Sounds rough."

More than rough, thought Vinepaw. "We're just passing through, though. We're on our way to someplace new… and I'm not a kit."

"Mm-hm. Eat. I don't care if you stay here or not; just don't get wrapped up in the damn bird hunt."

"What?" Vinepaw blinked at her, but she was already vanishing into their inky surroundings once more.

She reluctantly crouched over her lizard to eat, then decided to spend the day here rather than face her Clanmates yet. Rubyheart would no doubt rip her ears off if she got the chance. Ever since Vinepaw became an apprentice, there were less and less cats she felt safe around.

And stars help her, one of those cats was the prissy pet who got them into this.

#

Carmen and Mosswhisker ran side by side through the gritty, painted streets of the new City. Few humans bothered to acknowledge them as they bolted past. The ones who did, however, made the cats' skin crawl. There was something about those glares that just didn't sit right, especially with Carmen.

Of course they're looking at you like that. They see a dirty mongrel, not a Purebred.

They paused at a statue and Mosswhisker climbed it to scent the air.

Would they look at you that way if you'd gotten your dream? If the human chose the right kitten? If you were a Show Cat like you always dreamed of?

"It's hopeless trying to catch her scent," said the warrior. "There's too much going on in the air to find it."

It was true. There was more to smell here than any place they'd ever been, and the wind was only picking up more and more. The sky was still clear, but there was the tiniest hint of moisture in the breeze, the kind that didn't sting with chemicals.

"So, what do we do then?" she asked as Mosswhisker jumped back down. "It's not like we can track her by… by footprints or something."

"I don't know. We're running blind at this point, though. We might have to ask the locals."

It wasn't so loud here during the day, just nullified to a bearable background thrum, and their ears twitched with the shrill calls of birds flying somewhere overhead.

Can I even make it now as a Show Cat? Or does StarClan… Would StarClan stop me?

She knew the answer, but she couldn't bring herself to let the words manifest.

"You know why she did this, right?"

Her muzzle snapped up and her cloudy amber stare found Mosswhisker. "Why."

"Seriously?" She huffed and thrashed her tail. "Because of Rubyheart! Because the roach-hearted flea-pelt doesn't care about anybody! Because she'll bully any cat she knows can't fight back because of their rank!"

"She was your mentor…?"

"Yes," she hissed. "So, I know more than enough to say this."

Carmen tilted her head a bit. "So, um… You're a warrior now. Can't you just tell someone? Or tell her to stop?"

"All this time with us and you still don't get it," she sighed. "You never will. Trust me; it's for the best. Now come on and let's see if we can find some cat that lives here. Maybe they've seen 'er."

Carmen watched her striped tail flick around and slowly disappear into the distance. Muffled activity pulsed all around her, so strangely distant. Ever since that dream, Carmen felt that her mind was growing cobwebs. Reality had softer, hazier edges than before, and it was harder than it used to be to think.

"You still don't get it," echoed Mosswhisker's words. "You never will."

But Mosswhisker didn't have dead cats in her blood. Carmen did, and she felt dreadful certainty deep in her core like cold and ancient claws. Oh, she didn't get it. That much was true. What the warrior didn't know, what she couldn't have known, was that Carmen would get it.

Whether she wanted to or not.