Chapter 9

Carmen turned a corner to find herself muzzle to muzzle with a familiar tuxedo face. Scarred, underfed, yellow eyes shining with intelligence masked with a slew of anxiety… Colony scent. There was no doubt about it: it was him. The cat from Pharaoh's horde that Tigerstripe had been conspiring with. She flashed back to that night, hiding just out of sight, bearing witness to Darkwood's dear old friend committing the ultimate act of betrayal.

She dropped the bird she was carrying. She launched herself at him. Her claws sank into his chest before her catch could hit the ground. Her fur stood on end, her ears were back, and a growl rumbled in her throat.

"You reek of Pharaoh's gang." She spread her claws out over his throat, allowing their points to prick the skin beneath his fur. "What are you doing out here? Why are you following us?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he growled.

He kicked her legs out from under her. She found concrete and shoved her weight against his. He stumbled back, tail twitching. She threw herself forward. He swiped at her as he dodged, raking razor claws across her cheek. The muscles in her hind legs bunched up. She flew upwards and landed hard, the two them a clumsy tangle of limbs and fur. They tussled for a few heartbeats. He tried to run; she hooked a claw on his leg and dragged him back to pin him once again.

They stared at each other, panting, and Carmen became acutely aware of just how big she was in comparison. She couldn't remember being any bigger than the average Abyssinian kit. Was this StarClan's doing, or was it a natural outcome of spending all this time on the streets? She'd still been growing when she left. Maybe it was just what happened when one subjected their developing body to the perils of City travel.

Not that it mattered either way.

"What. Are you. Doing here?" She kept him firmly in her grasp this time, digging her claws into his chest.

He winced, ears drawing back. "I… Tiger. She volunteered to join your Clan as a spy."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"She's not… She… It was her idea. The whole thing was her idea, but she's not sticking to it! So, Pharaoh… Pharaoh sent me after her to find out what's happening."

"What do you mean she's not following the plan? I saw her talking to you, giving you information!"

"You saw her talking in circles while I tried to make sense of it," he spat. "His Majesty won't admit it, but he's afraid of her. He wants to know what her next move is going to be, okay?"

"No! Not okay!" she shrieked. She stared down at him, breaths heavy. She turned away.

His fangs glinted, then they didn't. "So, what now? You going to finish me off? Make an example of me?"

"I should. I really should." Her claws slid back. "But no."

The surprise lit his gaze like a lightning strike, and suspicion followed in an instant. He was already trying to calculate a hundred different scenarios ranging from escape and fates worse than execution. He didn't dare move again, watching her, gauging her every minuscule twitch with some complex threat assessment with too many angles for Carmen to understand. There was so much there, in that mind of his. It was a wonder he kept from spilling it all. That level of composure reminded Carmen of her days being taught the life of Show Cats… and it helped nothing whatsoever that she kind of liked his contrasting pelt.

She realized what was happening and hissed.

Oh StarClan, why now of all times? And why an enemy?

"Carmen! Where are you?"

Well, this night just kept getting better and better, huh?

Hawktalon's claws ticked against concrete as he veered around the building and charged toward them. Carmen felt StarClan's energy pulse through her veins. She caught scent of his blood and knew at once that he'd broken a claw on that stone. Had her rogue thought of them done that? Could simply thinking oh StarClan do such a thing?

There were too many thoughts in her skull. She could hardly focus on Hawktalon's voice. She summarized hers and the Colony cat's encounter, leaving out the details about Tigerstripe. This did not go unnoticed, but the Clan's new prisoner kept his mouth shut for now. Of course he did. That was the smart and sensible thing to do. A sign of a sophisticated mind.

"You're lucky that you ran into her instead of me, runt," growled Hawktalon into his ear. He jerked his muzzle to the strange, mottled bird. "Get your catch. I'll carry our little guest."

"Carry? I can-I can walk just fi-ah!"

"I think you should stay quiet for now," she said. "If he decides to rip your throat out, there's nothing I can do about it."

He was an intelligent cat all right, but Carmen could tell it was fear that stilled his tongue for the long walk back.

#

As dawn slowly fell upon the City, Mosswhisker yawned and wondered how long it would take for the Clan to get moving again. Darkwood was set on staying put; no cat left behind in a Clan! But there was talk in low voices that the Clan was better off without Vinepaw anyway. Or that they should hurry up and find their new home, and they could send search parties back later. Or that maybe she'd run off and gotten herself killed by Spark's Colony.

Speaking of him… Mosswhisker turned slightly to glance at the little piece of dog dirt. He'd made no move to flee, hunched over in the midst of the debris hollow they'd cleared away for him. Correction: Bellpaw and Slagpaw had created the makeshift cage while Steelclaw barked orders at them.

She spotted him across the room, finally settling down to rest for the day. Not too far from Stainpelt. Had he always been his right-hand cat? Had Mosswhisker been blind to it before that night when Tiger arrived? Glassclaw-Glasspaw then-had been the victim of some scheme or another that the toms had concocted. Mosswhisker and Fallfur had almost believed in it too, even if for half a heartbeat. Hell, they might as well believe it now, she thought. It's not like her sister was being too open with her family these days. In fact, she hung out with the likes of Stainpelt and her old mentor way more than Mosswhisker was comfortable with.

She sighed. A spotted tabby pelt appeared in her peripheral, and she eyed Kestrelclaw warily as he ambled his way over to her. Was her shift finally over?

He dipped his head to her. "My turn for guard duty."

"Okay."

He didn't bother telling her to get some sleep; she knew there was gossip lately about her sleeping habits. How could she rest with all that was plaguing her mind? She'd been so excited the day she was made an apprentice, eager to set out into the world and show it a true warrior. But this… Well, she supposed everything was exciting to inexperienced kits.

Now, the Clan didn't seem so united. Now, Darkwood didn't seem so strong. Now, the pampered pet she once loathed was one of the few cats she felt she could talk to.

Speaking of Carmen, she found the ruddy she-cat giving herself a thorough preening before bed. She wasn't looking too fancy these days. The Show Cat in the making had earned a decent collection of scars. Grown tall and bulky. Shown the skills of a warrior more advanced than Mosswhisker.

And that wasn't fair at all.

"Any trouble?"

"No. I wouldn't relax though; it's like he's analyzing everything he can about us."

The most response that Carmen could seem to muster was a shrug. Things flashed in her amber eyes that Mosswhisker would never understand, nor want to. The two sat together for a while and wondered aloud about Vinepaw as light crept in more and more through the broken windows and cracked ceiling.

"Can you believe that some cats are talking about leaving her behind?" asked Carmen.

She took a long time to answer. "If you'd asked me that some moons ago, I'd say no. Never. But I feel like… this moving around's brought out everybody's true nature. There's no stability anymore. We…"

She chuckled dryly, raising her head and turning to Carmen. "We dragged ourselves out here on your word and your word alone, hoping for something better than what we left. Lately, I've been thinking that "something better" isn't a place."

"Huh?"

"What I mean is…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I uh… I don't believe in the Clan like I used to. I've kinda been thinking that… maybe a bunch of nasty street cats like us aren't meant to live together. Maybe all this time, we've just been dreaming, and now we're finally waking up."

The nighttime music had gone away now. Twilight had swiftly turned gold. Cars and human chatter drifted into their ears. Most of the Clan was asleep. Aside from the two of them was Kestrelclaw, Windfang and Rustfang at the entrance, and Bulletpounce, who was so beside herself with worry that she barely slept at all.

Though, the two of them would note in the back of their minds, Rubyheart was nowhere to be seen.

"So, um… I know how this must sound coming from me… but if you-if you don't…" Carmen looked at her paws, feeling Mosswhisker's leafy eyes bore into her skull. "If you don't believe in the Clan right now, then I'll believe in it for the both of us."

"What?"

"I know, okay? But… there's something here. Something worth trying for. I know it. I can see it now."

"But," argued Mosswhisker, completely dumbfounded, "what about the whole Show Cat thing? Isn't that still the plan?"

"Of course it is." There was much less conviction in her tone now. "I'm going to be a Show Cat and win competitions. It's always been what I wanted." And that part sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "I just… That doesn't mean I can't care about this. So don't worry about anything. The Clan will be okay!"

A small smile crossed her muzzle, and for some reason or another, she felt relief wash over her. "Thanks."

They caught a few minutes of peace before: "Mosswhisker?"

"Yeah?"

"In another life, if I was a warrior, what do you think my name would be?"

She regarded her curiously. Then, with an odd certainty, almost finality: "Amberstar."