Enjoy this early sneak peak at the first three chapters of Darktail’s Judgment!

ALLEGIANCES

THUNDERCLAN

LEADER     Firestar—ginger tom with a flame-colored pelt

DEPUTY     Graystripe—long-haired gray tom

MEDICINE CAT     Cinderpelt—dark gray she-cat

Apprentice, Leafpaw (light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes)

WARRIORS   (toms and she-cats without kits)

Mousefur—small, dusky brown she-cat

Apprentice, Spiderpaw (long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes)

Dustpelt—dark brown tabby tom

Apprentice, Squirrelpaw (dark ginger she-cat with green eyes)

Sandstorm—pale ginger she-cat
Cloudtail—long-haired white tom with blue eyes
Brackenfur—golden-brown tabby tom

Apprentice, Whitepaw (white she-cat with green eyes)

Thornclaw—golden-brown tabby tom

Apprentice, Shrewpaw (small dark brown tom with amber eyes)

Brightheart—white she-cat with ginger patches
Brambleclaw—dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes
Ashfur—pale gray (with darker flecks) tom with dark blue eyes
Rainwhisker—dark gray tom with blue eyes
Sootfur—lighter gray tom with amber eyes
Sorreltail—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes

QUEENS   (she-cats expecting or nursing kits)

Goldenflower—pale ginger she-cat with yellow eyes
Ferncloud—pale gray (with darker flecks) she-cat with green eyes (mother of Birchkit, a light brown tabby tom; Hollykit, a brown tabby she-kit; and Larchkit, a brown tabby she-kit)

ELDERS   (former warriors and queens, now retired)

Frostfur—beautiful white she-cat with blue eyes
Speckletail—pale tabby she-cat
Longtail—pale tabby tom with dark black stripes, retired early due to failing sight

SHADOWCLAN

LEADER     Blackstar—large white tom with huge jet-black paws

DEPUTY     Russetfur—dark ginger she-cat

MEDICINE CAT     Littlecloud—very small tabby tom

WARRIORS

Oakfur—small brown tom

Apprentice, Smokepaw (dark gray tom)

Cedarheart—dark gray tom
Rowanclaw—ginger tom

Apprentice, Talonpaw (pale gray tom)

Nightwing—black she-cat
Tawnypelt—tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

QUEENS

Tallpoppy—long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

ELDERS

Runningnose—small gray-and-white tom, formerly the medicine cat
Boulder—skinny gray tom

WINDCLAN

LEADER     Tallstar—elderly black-and-white tom with a very long tail

DEPUTY     Mudclaw—mottled dark brown tom

Apprentice, Crowpaw (dark gray tom)

MEDICINE CAT     Barkface—short-tailed brown tom

WARRIORS

Tornear—gray tabby tom
Ashfoot—gray she-cat
Webfoot—dark gray tabby tom

Apprentice, Weaselpaw (ginger tom with white paws)

Onewhisker—brown tabby tom
Robinwing—— light brown she-cat with blue eyes

Apprentice, Thistlepaw (gray-and-white she-cat)

QUEENS

Whitetail—small white she-cat

ELDERS

Morningflower—tortoiseshell she-cat
Oatwhisker—creamy brown tabby tom

RIVERCLAN

LEADER     Leopardstar—unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat

DEPUTY     Mistyfoot—gray she-cat with blue eyes

MEDICINE CATS     Mudfur—long-haired light brown tom

Apprentice, Mothwing (dappled golden she-cat)

WARRIORS

Blackclaw—smoky black tom

Apprentice, Volepaw (small brown tabby tom)

Heavystep—thickset tabby tom
Stormfur—dark gray tom with amber eyes
Hawkfrost—dark brown tom with a white underbelly and ice-blue eyes
Swallowtail—dark brown tabby she-cat with green eyes

Apprentice, Splashpaw (white she-cat with ginger tabby patches)

QUEENS

Mosspelt—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat (mother of Willowkit, a gray tabby she-kit)
Dawnflower—pale gray she-cat (mother of Minnowkit, a dark gray-and-white she-kit; Pebblekit, a mottled gray tom; and Tumblekit, a black she-kit)

ELDERS

Shadepelt—very dark gray she-cat
Loudbelly—dark brown tom

CATS OUTSIDE CLANS

Smoke—long-furred, gray she-cat with blue eyes who lives in Twolegplace (mother of Darkkit, a white tom with black spots and a black tail
Wesley—scruffy gray-and-black tabby tom
Melody—brown tabby-and-white she-cat with blue eyes who lives in Twolegplace
Nutmeg—brown-and-white tabby she-cat who lives in Twolegplace
Dudley—small orange tom who lives in Twolegplace
Beatrice—pale brown-and-white she-cat with blue eyes who lives in Twolegplace, later known as Meadow
Abigail—small white she-cat
Moe—small, calico tom who lives in Twolegplace
Ravenpaw—sleek-furred black tom with white on his chest and tail and green eyes who lives on Barley’s farm
Barley—black-and-white tom with blue eyes who lives on a farm
Sol—rogue tortoiseshell-and-white tom with pale yellow eyes
Stem—rogue three-legged black tom
Peony—rogue calico she-cat, mate of Stem
Dandelion—rogue golden tabby she-cat, daughter of Stem and Peony
Fuzzface—long-haired former kittypet who is now a rogue
Hedge—rogue white tom
Marigold—rogue she-cat with thick golden tabby fur and green eyes
Rain—rogue long-furred gray tom with green eyes
Basil—rogue small gray-and-white tom

PROLOGUE

Even if I die, it’s worth it, Darktail thought.

As they sank, struggling, beneath the surface of the lake, he frantically slashed a forepaw across Onestar’s chest, his claws ripping through his father’s pale brown fur. The water was dark and he could see strands of waterweed reaching out for them like paws. Tendrils of blood floated around them. With his other paw, he clutched at the fur of Onestar’s throat, trying to pull the WindClan leader closer, even though they were already locked together, chest to chest. Onestar’s forelegs clamped around Darktail’s shoulders, and their hind legs scrabbled at each other’s bellies. Where they were pressed together, Darktail could feel the beat of Onestar’s heart, pounding just as hard as his own.

I’ll never let go. Not until he’s dead.

The daylight above them faded as the two cats sank more deeply beneath the water. Darktail’s throat burned and his chest ached with the need to breathe, but he was determined: He wouldn’t release his grip, wouldn’t try to make it to the surface.

Other cats had drowned in this lake, died at his paws, this fading light the last thing they saw. For a heartbeat as he and Onestar fell through the water together, he wondered where those cats’ bodies lay. Would cold, waterlogged fur brush theirs at any moment?

It doesn’t matter.

His father’s amber eyes were all he could see, lit with grim determination. But why not fear? Panic flared in Darktail’s heart as he wondered: was it possible that Onestar wasn’t on his last life after all? Could everything Darktail did have been for nothing?

But no. Surely this was Onestar’s last life; he’d said as much to the other Clan leaders. And this would be his final judgment. Now the darkness at the center of Onestar’s pupils seemed to spread as Darktail pulled him even closer, their blackness filling Darktail’s vision.

As the darkness took him, fierce joy swelled inside Darktail.

I don’t mind dying, as long as I take Onestar with me.

When he woke, he wasn’t cold anymore. Sunshine warmed Darktail’s pelt, and he could feel the solid reassurance of earth and grass beneath his paws. Onestar wasn’t clutched against him, their desperate hearts no longer pounded in the same rhythm.

Darktail opened his eyes, taking in a deep gasp of air. He wasn’t beneath the surface of the lake now. Instead, he was in the middle of a sunny meadow. A clear blue sky puffed with small white clouds spread out above his head, and a gentle breeze ruffled the meadow grass and stirred his pale fur, bringing with it the rich scent of nearby prey.

His eyes widened. I can’t be alive again. I only had one life. He wasn’t really a Clan leader, despite what he’d told his followers, and he didn’t have the nine lives the leaders’ StarClan gave them.

He must be dead. Was this StarClan’s endless hunting grounds that he’d heard about? Warriors went there after they died, but he’d never truly been a warrior, and StarClan had never had a use for him. Anger curled through Darktail as he thought about how he’d never been allowed to join the Clans. Onestar had rejected him when he was just a kit and, later, both SkyClan and ShadowClan had refused to accept him, no matter how strong he had proved himself. This anger made him sweep his gaze around the meadow, looking for the cat to blame. But there were no cats in sight. Then he spotted him, crouched on Darktail’s right, where he could have sworn no cat had been only moments before. His father seemed only half there at first, a pale brown tabby shape made of mist, but then he grew more solid. His amber eyes were fixed on Darktail’s own in an expression of pure shock.

Why are we here? Darktail wanted to yowl, to demand an explanation from the father who had never given him anything. Before he could speak, though, Onestar began to back away, shaking his head in confusion, his eyes wide and troubled.

Darktail tried to unsheathe his claws and spring at him. Everything he’d worked for was pointless if Onestar had survived. But he couldn’t move; it was as if something was weighing down his limbs and fixing him in place. Onestar’s expression of shock deepened to a look of horror and pity.

What does he see? Darktail looked down at himself.

His gut twisted. While Onestar had become more solid, Darktail could see his own body fading and growing half-transparent. The thick grass of the hunting grounds was visible through his white-furred paws. If this was StarClan’s territory, they still didn’t want him.

With a jolt, the earth beneath him opened and Darktail was falling, plummeting down into a dark pit. Looking up, he stretched out his paws, reaching to pull himself back to the grassy meadow, to stop his fall, but the endless hunting grounds were already gone, along with Onestar. The grass and the sky were gone. Only darkness surrounded him, and he was falling. After a few heartbeats of terror, he regained enough of his senses to realize he wasn’t in complete darkness. There were shapes in the dim light around him, but he was falling too fast for them to be more than a blur. Suddenly, he must have slowed, because he saw a face clearly, a gray she-cat with her mouth opening in a silent yowl. Smoke? His legs scrambled as he tried to stop himself in the air, tried to reach her, but she was gone.

His fall was slowing more. Another face appeared before him, and Darktail pulled back with a snarl of dismay. Dudley? After all this time. The small orange tom gazed at him coldly. It felt . . . wrong to meet Dudley’s eyes, and Darktail hunched his shoulders and looked away, his gut churning at what he saw next.

Marigold. Her green gaze held his, wary and cool in a way that she had never looked at him before. And beside her, another face with a single similar green eye. Rain. He tried to meow a greeting—they’d both loved him once, hadn’t they? Other than Smoke, they’d been the cats he’d cared for the most. Maybe they would help him now.

But they looked at him as if they’d never known him. Dudley was staring at him still, too, his small face blank.

“I know I wronged you, all of you,” Darktail began, wondering how to explain. His voice wavered, sounding unsure to his own ears. He hated that. What right did they have to judge him? If they’d been stronger, he couldn’t have hurt them.

Anger shot through him at the sound of his own weakness. Squaring his shoulders, he put back his ears, glaring at them. “Why are you looking at me that way?” he growled. “The past is gone. I can’t do anything about it now.”

Marigold moved slightly, stepping toward him. He thought she was going to speak. Then he was falling again, the three forms disappearing into darkness above him.

No!

Darktail hit the ground with a thud, his legs sprawling. He lay in a heap for a moment, breathing hard. What had happened? Had those cats from his past—cats he’d tried to forget—really been there? Or was he beneath the water still, dreaming as he drowned? Getting his paws under him, he pushed himself up and looked around.

It was gray here, and damp. Trees spread their bare, leafless branches above him, and cold mist rolled between their trunks. Darktail shivered.

There was no scent or sound of prey, and no fresh smell of growing plants. Even if they’d been real a moment ago, Marigold, Rain, and Dudley weren’t with him now. No one was. The forest seemed dim and empty. He spotted a shallow-looking pool of black liquid nearby, its surface shining slickly in the dim light. Darktail was thirsty but, after one glance, decided not to drink. He couldn’t imagine that that pool could quench his thirst. Looking up past the tree branches, he shivered again, but this time only partially because of the cold.

The sky was cloudless and dark, but there were no stars.

What is this place?

“Well, well,” a meow sounded behind him. “How nice to see a new face. I’m Mapleshade.”

Darktail wheeled around, startled. He’d been alone a moment ago. Why hadn’t he scented an approaching cat?

A large tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat stood behind him, looking smug. At a glance, he took in the ragged state of her fur and the scars crisscrossing her muzzle.

A fighter, he thought. There was no fear in her amber gaze, just a trace of amusement. It made Darktail’s fur prickle along his spine. Something’s wrong here.

“Where am I?” he demanded, careful not to show his unease.

The she-cat—Mapleshade—let out a soft mrrow of amusement. “You don’t know?”

Darktail bristled. “Why should I?”

She tilted her head, amused. “Did they stop teaching the young cats what might happen if they don’t follow the precious warrior code? You’re in the Place of No Stars.”

Darktail shuddered. “The Place of No Stars? Is that the same as the Dark Forest the Clan cats like to threaten each other with?”

Mapleshade flicked her tail, annoyed. “It is. It’s an eternal hunting ground,” she went on, looking puzzled. “If you can have a hunting ground with no prey.”

“Like StarClan’s endless hunting grounds?” Darktail asked cautiously.

Anger flared in Mapleshade’s eyes. “The exact opposite, actually. This is where StarClan sends the cats they hate. No prey, no hope. And we can’t escape. StarClan just tries to forget us.” She glanced away, licking at the ragged fur on her shoulder, as if she hadn’t meant to show that much emotion. “Not that I’d want to be with StarClan anyway.”

Horror surged like a wave over Darktail. Was this why Onestar and Smoke had looked so stricken? Had they both known where he was going?

“It’s not fair!” he burst out. “I’m not even a Clan cat! Not really.”

Mapleshade stared at him. “Not a Clan cat?” she asked. “Then how did you end up here? What could you have done to deserve this?”

CHAPTER ONE

“Can’t we stop and rest, just for a little while?” Darkkit pleaded. He was so tired. He’d stepped on a thorn earlier, and each time he put down his right forepaw, sharp pain shot through his paw pad. All four of his legs ached. And it was starting to get dark.

“It’s not much farther. Try to keep up.” His mother, Smoke, strode along beside him, looking grimly determined. “It isn’t far. It just feels that way because we’re hungry.”

At the reminder, Darkkit’s stomach growled. Ever since the Twoleg who had been their housefolk had died, their bowls had been empty. Darkkit hadn’t been especially fond of the Twoleg, but he missed her now that regular meals had become a thing of the past. Smoke wasn’t a particularly good hunter. Over and over, he’d seen her run toward a bird, only for it to take off into the air long before she reached it. While the cats in the garden next door slipped them some of their kibble sometimes, it was never enough for Darkkit’s appetite, even though Smoke let him eat most of it.

“Don’t worry,” Smoke meowed encouragingly. “I’m sure your father will give you some prey once we get there. Onewhisker is a great hunter.”

“He is?”

“He is.” Smoke’s eyes narrowed. “And it’s time for him to do right by his son. He owes us that much.”

“Okay.” Darkkit looked around nervously as he limped after her, trying to ignore the pain in his paw. He’d never been this far from the Twolegplace before. It was so empty here—no Twoleg dens, no gardens. Just trees and bushes and tangles of undergrowth. His mother had told him that huge groups of cats lived here, looking after themselves and each other, but where were they? How did they survive? It was cold, and only a few dry leaves still rattled on the trees’ branches. Darkkit hunched his shoulders and tried to walk faster to keep up with Smoke. He looked down at his small white paws, half the size of his mother’s gray ones. Despite the pain, he had to take two steps to every one of hers, just to keep up.

“He might not be able to help us both,” Smoke meowed abruptly. “But I’m sure he’ll let you join WindClan.”

Darkkit stopped walking. “Without you?” His voice rose into a squeak. He couldn’t go somewhere without Smoke! She was his mother.

Smoke stopped, too, and bent her head to look into his eyes. “I don’t like it either, Darkkit, but if we have to split up to survive, we will.” She bent further and rubbed her cheek reassuringly against his. “If we do, I promise I won’t forget you. And I’ll visit you if they’ll let me. I love you more than anything in the whole world.”

Darkkit nodded, but his chest felt tight with misery. What good would Smoke’s love be to him if she wasn’t going to be there?

Smoke started walking again, and Darkkit hurried to stay by her side. He moved a little closer so that her soft fur brushed his as they walked.

After a few heartbeats, Smoke spoke again, more hesitantly. “When you join WindClan, Onewhisker might have to pretend you’re not his son. He might need to tell the other cats that you’re just a kit he’s taking in out of the goodness of his heart.”

“What?” Darkkit stared up at Smoke, but she kept walking, looking straight ahead. “Why would he act like I wasn’t his son?”

Smoke’s mouth twisted a little. “Onewhisker has a new mate now, a WindClan cat the same as he is. She might not like that he has a kit with another she-cat. You should agree with whatever Onewhisker wants to tell her. Whatever he tells all his Clanmates. The important thing is that you’re safe, whoever they think you are.”

“All right. I’ll pretend to be whoever Onewhisker wants.” When Darkkit agreed, the tense line of Smoke’s shoulders relaxed a little. But Darkkit only felt more miserable. Questions rolled through his mind. Even if his father had a new mate, why would he deny his own kit? Smoke had always told him a kit was the most important cat in their parents’ lives. And why would Onewhisker choose some warrior over Smoke, who was the kindest and most beautiful cat Darkkit knew? She had fluffy gray fur and big blue eyes. Twolegs always made soft, encouraging noises when she came near them, because she was so pretty.

It must be because there’s something wrong with me. He doesn’t want me, Darkkit thought. He knew he was smaller than other kits his age. Smoke had always told him how he had fought for life when he was first born, how his littermates had died, leaving her with just one precious, tiny, and fragile kit.

Maybe Onewhisker thought he was weak. Why else would he have left Darkkit and Smoke in the first place? He didn’t think his only kit was good enough, so he wanted to have different kits with a new mate. Shame settled over Darkkit’s shoulders like a heavy fog, damp and depressing. It must be my fault.

Darkkit tried to feel stronger. He stepped heavily onto his hurt paw despite the pain, refusing to flinch or whimper. Whatever it took to prove to Onewhisker that Darkkit was worthy of his love and protection, he’d do it. I’m not weak.

A little farther on, the forest began to change. The trees thinned, then were replaced by scrubby bushes and long grass that rose high above even Smoke’s head. They pushed on through the grass as the shadows around them grew deeper and the wind grew colder.

At last, Smoke paused. “Smell that?”

Darkkit wrinkled his nose. The smell of strange cats was so strong, it was like it was pushing him away: Get out of here, kit, the smell told him. This isn’t your place.

He lifted his chin and his tail defiantly. I go where I want.

“That’s the smell of WindClan,” Smoke explained. “They keep their border markers fresh so that every cat knows this is their territory.”

Darkkit blinked. What he’d sensed from the smell was actually what it was supposed to mean? “And it works?” he asked, fascinated. “Other cats stay away just because WindClan cats leave their smell here?” Even if he left his scent all over their garden, he didn’t think it would keep the cats in the next garden from coming over the fence.

“Of course it works,” Smoke told him. “If other cats tried to take their territory, WindClan would fight them and drive them away.”

“Wow.” Being in a Clan meant that cats owned the ground they walked on. Onewhisker, his father, must be a powerful cat to be part of a group like that. “Will they drive us away?”

Smoke stroked her tail reassuringly across his back. “It’s different for us,” she meowed. “Onewhisker will want you here, and he’ll tell the rest of his Clan.” Stretching up, she looked out across the moor, scenting the air. “That’s where their camp is, in a hollow over there,” she told him. “I’ll go there if I have to, but I think we’ve gotten lucky. Onewhisker is heading this way.”

Darkkit tried to see, but he was too small to look over the top of the grass. And it was nearly dark, although the moon had risen. “Should we go meet him?” he asked.

Smoke shifted on her paws, seeming unsure for the first time. “No,” she answered at last. “He’ll scent us soon, and he’ll come here.”

They waited in silence. Darkkit’s heart was beating hard. I’m going to meet my father, he told himself, but it didn’t feel real. What would Onewhisker say? Maybe if Darkkit looked bigger and stronger, Onewhisker would want to tell every cat that Darkkit was his son. Darkkit stood up as straight as he could and puffed out his fur a little.

If Onewhisker liked him, he would teach him how to hunt and fight. A cat strong enough to own a territory probably never went hungry.

Darkkit could scent him now, coming closer. He smelled like the powerful scents that marked the territory. I’ll smell like that after they make me a WindClan cat, he thought.

“Smoke?”

Darkkit jumped when the strange meow broke the silence, and Smoke laid her tail over his back again for a moment. “Come on,” she whispered, and he followed her out of the shadows and toward his father, standing in the moonlight.

Onewhisker was smaller than Darkkit had imagined, not as big as some of the other cats in the Twolegplace. But he stood very straight, and his eyes were narrow and wary. He looked more sure of himself than any Twolegplace cat Darkkit knew. “What happened?” he asked as they got closer, his voice sharp. “Why have you come here?”

Smoke had barely begun to explain why they needed WindClan to take them in when Onewhisker shook his head, cutting her off. “I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not. Can’t you smell the Twoleg monsters all over the place? Haven’t you seen the way they’ve torn up the ground? We don’t even have a camp anymore.”

Darkkit looked around. Was it true? There was a metallic scent in the air, but that was true in the Twolegplace, too—he hadn’t realized it might mean something bad here.

If WindClan doesn’t have a camp anymore, did we come all this way for nothing?

“But we need—” Smoke argued, but Onewhisker interrupted her again, his voice harsh. “It’s just not possible.”

Smoke kept arguing, her tail lashing the air, and Onewhisker kept shaking his head. WindClan, and all the other Clans, were leaving in the morning, he explained. There would be no way to bring other cats with them, especially a kit as young and small as Darkkit. Occasionally, he glanced around, or back over his shoulder toward the WindClan camp.

He doesn’t want any cat to know we’re here. Onewhisker must be nervous about his new mate finding out about Darkkit and Smoke, Darkkit realized, his belly feeling as heavy as if he had swallowed a stone.

Was this the right time to tell Onewhisker that he wouldn’t need to tell any cat that Darkkit was his son? He could pretend Darkkit was anyone he wanted to. Darkkit tried to catch Onewhisker’s eye. I could help you and your Clan, he thought, willing Onewhisker to somehow hear him. I’m scrawny now, but you could teach me to be fierce.

“Don’t you care that this cat is your son?” Smoke snapped at last, and nudged Darkkit closer to Onewhisker. “His name is Darkkit, after his tail. I named him the way a Clan kit would be named.”

Onewhisker’s eyes met Darkkit’s for the first time. “That’s a good name,” he meowed, more gently than he’d spoken to Smoke.

Darkkit stared back at him mutely. There was too much he wanted to say, and he didn’t know what would make his father want him. And then it was too late. Onewhisker looked away again, back at Smoke.

“What’s the matter with his paw?” he asked abruptly. Darkkit wilted. Now Onewhisker knew there was something wrong with him. He must think that Darkkit wouldn’t be able to keep up with WindClan as they traveled.

Onewhisker didn’t look at Darkkit again, but he went to find something to soothe the cut on his paw. When he’d left, Smoke looked down at Darkkit. “Let’s go closer to their camp,” she meowed. “I want to see.”

Darkkit followed her through the long grass until they could look down into a hollow in the moor. Below, a lot of cats were stretched out in the grass, sleeping, while others shared prey or curled together, talking quietly. It seemed peaceful. Maybe if we asked them . . .

He looked up at Smoke to suggest that they could talk to these other cats, but then stepped back automatically, his heart speeding up. Smoke looked so angry.

He followed her gaze down toward a pretty white she-cat curled at the foot of a gorse bush, fast asleep.

Is that her? Darkkit wondered. Is that the mate my father chose over us? He backed away from his mother and the edge of the hollow, feeling foolish. No cat wanted him there.

Onewhisker came hurrying back, a leaf clutched in his teeth, and dropped it at Smoke’s paws. They began arguing again in low, ferocious hisses, and Darkkit moved a few paces away. He wanted to go home. Maybe one of the other cats would have brought them some kibble.

Suddenly, Onewhisker shoved Smoke roughly away from the hollow. Smoke stumbled backward, shocked, and knocked Darkkit off his paws. He hit the ground with a startled squeal. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Onewhisker hurried forward and helped Smoke up. She bared her teeth at him, then started brushing dirt from Darkkit’s pelt as he got back onto his aching paws. He was so tired, and he wanted to wail in disappointment. Onewhisker wasn’t looking at him, only at Smoke. He gave a long sigh. “This is just how it has to be. But once we find our new camp, I’ll come back. I’ll find you in the Twolegplace.”

Hope stirred in Darkkit’s chest. Maybe Onewhisker did want him after all? It made sense to not bring a kit on a journey, but once they found a home, Darkkit could go there, too. “Onewhisker, you have to promise that you won’t forget us,” Smoke meowed, her claws unsheathed. “Your kit needs you.”

“I promise.” Onewhisker nodded, his eyes never leaving Smoke’s.

“If you break that promise, I’ll teach Darkkit to hate you, and to hate all the Clans,” Smoke hissed. “Think about that, Onewhisker!”

As Onewhisker promised again, Darkkit tried to catch his eye. I believe you, he thought. You’ll come back for me. I can’t wait to join WindClan.

But Onewhisker turned away again without looking at Darkkit.

It doesn’t matter. He’ll be back.

When that day came, Darkkit was going to be ready. He would be the strongest kit in the Twolegplace, even stronger than the other WindClan kits. Onewhisker would be proud to tell every cat that Darkkit was his son.

Stretching along the rough bark on a limb of his favorite tree, Darkkit looked down over the Twolegplace. In the moon since he’d met his father, the last leaves had fallen from the tree, and his view was perfectly clear. From here he could see into different gardens—in one, a pair of cats chased each other around and among bushes, playing as if they were kits even younger than Darkkit, although they were full-grown. In another, a big white dog pulled at the leash around its neck, barking steadily for its Twolegs’ attention. Past them, he could see the open ground where the Clans had lived, and the Twoleg monsters digging through the mud, tearing up the grass and leaving long stretches of churned brown earth.

He came here every day. And every day he practiced climbing and running, trying to get stronger and faster. He was already more powerful than any of the kits his size in the Twolegplace, Darkkit was sure of it. He’d be ready to be a Clan cat soon. When Onewhisker returned for him, Darkkit would see him coming and race down to meet him. Onewhisker would be amazed at how much he had changed. Darkkit spent as much time watching for Onewhisker as he could: He didn’t want to miss him!

Darkkit sighed and licked his paw gloomily. He’d be ready when Onewhisker came, but he hoped it wouldn’t take much longer. It had been a whole moon!

Things were even worse now than they had been when he and Smoke had gone to WindClan’s territory to plead for Onewhisker’s help.

A half-moon ago, new Twolegs had moved into the den by their garden.

At first, Darkkit had thought things would go back to the way they had been when their old Twoleg had lived there: Their bowls would be full of kibble and they’d be able to go into the warm Twoleg den when the nights were cold. The female Twoleg had called them, making soft crooning noises, and, when they didn’t come closer, had started leaving them small bowls of food.

This is the way it should be. We can eat well and I’ll grow strong enough for WindClan, Darkkit had thought after a few days, taking a big bite. He and Smoke had been wary at first, but the food was good, and surely that meant the Twolegs were friendly.

And then he’d been swung up into the air and down, down toward a cage, the Twoleg’s grip too tight around his stomach. “No! Help!” he’d yowled, his paws flailing.

Smoke had leaped into the air and slashed fiercely at the Twoleg’s hands, leaving long, bloody scratches. The Twoleg had screeched and dropped Darkkit, and both cats had run into the bushes.

Since then, there had been no more bowls of food. Whenever the Twolegs saw them, they’d shout and wave their arms. Maybe we should leave, Darkkit thought now, leaping down from the tree. There’d been no sign of Onewhisker, or any Clan cat, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the grass. But where would they go? Their garden was familiar and safe.

And it was where Onewhisker knew they would be. If they left, how would he find them?

Darkkit began to hurry back toward the garden, where he knew Smoke would be waiting. Maybe he could catch something for them to eat—he’d almost caught a shrew yesterday; it had barely dodged out from under his paws. He could hunt them something good to eat and then he and Smoke would curl up together under the hedge at the end of their garden. Its branches stayed leafy and green, even though the trees had all dropped their leaves, and they’d lie close enough together to keep warm even if it got terribly cold tonight. With full stomachs, they’d sleep better, and he wouldn’t have any bad dreams about being left behind, out on WindClan’s moor.

On the Twoleg path, Darkkit stopped. Was that Smoke yowling? There were Twoleg voices, too, coming from their garden. His fur bushing in alarm, he began to run toward his mother’s cries.

When he reached their garden, he squeezed under the fence and peered out from beneath the hedge. There were two strange Twolegs in their garden! They were stomping around, their huge hind paws squashing all the plants and long grass. They were holding long sticks with some kind of tangled vines on the end, and their legs were covered with blue pelts. Between them and the wall of the house, Smoke stood trapped, her fur on end and her teeth bared. To one side stood a curious den with silver webbing. It was gaping open. “Smoke!” Darkkit wailed.

Smoke’s gaze shifted to him, and one of the Twolegs turned to look at Darkkit, saying something to the other.

“Run, Darkkit!” Smoke yowled. “Find a good Twoleg to take you in!” She swiped desperately at the Twoleg, drawing his attention back to her. He swung the vine-tangle toward her, and she dodged.

Darkkit hesitated. I can’t leave Smoke!

With a sudden swooping motion, the Twoleg swept Smoke up in the vines. She screeched in rage and fear, and Darkkit let his instincts take over. Caution forgotten, he ran toward them, growling.

The Twoleg was so big close-up, much bigger than the old female Twoleg who had once been their housefolk. Darkkit swallowed, his body tense, but he didn’t let fear stop him. I have to save Smoke!

With a leap, he flung himself at the blue-pelted hind leg of the Twoleg holding her and clung to it with his claws, sinking in his teeth. The pelt was thick, but, clenching his jaw, he managed to bite through to the soft flesh underneath.

The Twoleg yelped and jumped back, shaking Darkkit off. His teeth aching from biting through the pelt, Darkkit watched him warily. Let my mother go! He growled as deeply as he could, daring the Twoleg to come near him again.

Then, suddenly, he was in the air, his paws scrabbling at nothing. Something had gotten hold of the back of his neck. He tried to turn, to swipe at what held him. It was the other Twoleg, he realized. It had sneaked up behind him while he was keeping his eyes on the one that held Smoke. Now he dangled from its long-toed forepaw; it held him by his scruff just like Smoke had when he was a tiny kit.

Only much less gently. Not gently at all. Darkkit tried to screech indignantly but could only manage a squeak.

A heartbeat later, he was dropped into the strange den, landing with a grunt on top of Smoke. She shifted over, pulling him close to her side and nuzzling him worriedly. “Are you all right? I told you to run.”

Darkkit tucked himself even closer, breathing in her familiar scent. “I wasn’t going to leave you. I couldn’t stand that.”

With a sigh, Smoke touched her muzzle to the top of his head. “I wish you were still free, but I have to admit I’m glad we’re together.” One of the Twolegs picked up the den, and the cats braced themselves as it swung dizzyingly through the air. Through the webbing, Smoke eyed the Twoleg anxiously. “I just hope we stay that way.”

CHAPTER TWO

Darkkit sniffed at the wrinkled pelt on the floor of their new tiny den. It smelled mostly like him and Smoke now, but he could still scent the Twoleg smells underneath, which made his tail twitch angrily. When they’d been put in here two days ago, Twoleg was all he had been able to smell inside the den. And, outside it, other cats.

So many other cats. Each in their own little den of hard silver webbing—the other cats called them cages—where they paced and ate and meowed to each other. Darkkit’s fur prickled in irritation at their sounds and scents. He wished that it were just him and Smoke again.

Still, he thought, crossing a few steps to their food bowl and crunching some hard kibble, at least we’re eating. Every day the Twolegs put food in their bowl, and he was sure he was already bigger and stronger. When Onewhisker comes for me, I’ll be ready.

“We won’t go back to the same garden, will we, Smoke?” he asked. “But somewhere close to it, so Onewhisker can find us? We need to leave soon, so he doesn’t come while we’re gone and miss us.”

Smoke was almost asleep at the back of the den, but she gave a reassuring, sleepy purr. “We’ll figure it out,” she meowed. “Or, if we’re safe and taken care of, it doesn’t really matter if Onewhisker finds us, does it?”

Darkkit slashed his tail, annoyed. Of course it matters. He was going to be a warrior, just like his father.

“You’re getting out of here soon, are you, kit?” a friendly voice asked from the next cage. A scruffy gray-and-black tabby was peering through the web. He’d introduced himself as Wesley when the Twolegs had first put Darkkit and Smoke in the little den. “You in some kind of hurry?”

“My father’s coming to get me,” Darkkit explained. “I need to go soon.” He hesitated, then decided to share his plan. “The next time a Twoleg opens the door to the den to put food in, I’m going to scratch and bite them so that they back off. Then Smoke and I can jump out and run away.” We’ll run all the way back to where we came from. We can find another garden, or stay up on the hill above the Twolegplace. Then, when Onewhisker comes, we’ll be able to see him.

Wesley winced and shook his head. “Bad idea, kit. I’ve seen what happens to cats who attack the Twolegs here. The Twolegs stop taking them out of the dens, and then the cats who attacked them never leave here.”

How cruel¸ Darkkit thought. These cats needed to be braver. He meowed indignantly, “The Twolegs are keeping us prisoner here. They deserve to be attacked. If we all scratched and bit them, we’d overpower them.”

Wesley drew back a bit. “The Twolegs aren’t so bad. I hear that sometimes one will take a cat home for a soft life as a kittypet. That’s what I’m hoping for. I’ve had enough of just trying to survive.”

Darkkit curled his lip in disgust. “Maybe that’s good enough for some cats, but I’m going to be a warrior. When my father comes to get me and Smoke, we’ll become part of WindClan.”

“WindClan? What’s that?” Wesley was puzzled.

“I thought every cat knew about the Clans,” Darkkit meowed in the most condescending voice he could manage. “They’re the strongest cats anywhere. They all live together in one big group and look after each other. They own the land they live on; it’s their territory.” He tried to remember what else Smoke had told him about WindClan. “The cats in WindClan are the best ones. They’re really good hunters, and sometimes they have to fight other Clans, but they always win.”

“Uh-huh.” Wesley had his head cocked to one side, looking dubious. “I never heard of them.”

“That’s why we have to get out of here,” Darkkit explained. “My father had to go away with WindClan, but he’s coming back and he needs to be able to find us.”

Wesley’s face softened. “Well, I hope it works out for you, kit,” he meowed. “I’d rather live in a nice warm Twoleg den myself, but being in a Clan with strong warriors protecting you sounds good, too.”

“And it won’t be long until I’m a warrior,” Darkkit told him proudly.

“Sure you will. You’re getting bigger every day,” Wesley agreed.

“Darkkit, come here,” Smoke meowed from the back of their den. Darkkit startled slightly. He’d thought she was sleeping.

When he’d padded over to her, Smoke spoke in a low, serious voice. “Darkkit, I don’t want you counting on Onewhisker taking you to WindClan.”

Darkkit’s pelt prickled in apprehension. “What do you mean? He promised he’d come back and get me.”

“Darkkit.” His mother tried to press her muzzle to his, but Darkkit backed away. She hesitated, then went on. “If Onewhisker were as strong and good as you think, he would have taken us into WindClan when we asked, and none of this would be happening.”

“That’s not true!” Darkkit yowled. He unsheathed his claws and flexed them against the thin pelt below their paws. “We saw what was going on. Twolegs and their monsters were destroying WindClan’s territory, and all the cats were leaving. Onewhisker was protecting us. He promised he’d be back as soon as they have a new home, and he will!”

Smoke narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t speak for a few moments. At last, she sighed. “I hope you’re right,” she meowed.

Of course I’m right. Darkkit paced as far away from her as he could get, the few steps to the other side of the den. Onewhisker is probably on his way right now.

A few days later, Darkkit crunched some of the hard brown kibble while keeping a wary eye on the door through which Twolegs came in and out. We have to get out of here.

Onewhisker was definitely coming, no matter what Smoke thought. But would his father be able to find them? Darkkit imagined Onewhisker coming to their old garden in the Twolegplace and finding it empty. The cats from the next garden could tell him about the Twolegs taking them away, but what would Onewhisker do next?

My father’s really smart and he has a whole Clan. They’d find us. Darkkit pictured a crowd of cats, all of them tough and determined, storming into this Twoleg building and breaking open the cages. Onewhisker would pull Darkkit out and yowl, aYou can’t keep my son in here! But just in case Onewhisker wasn’t able to track them down, he and Smoke needed to escape and get back to the Twolegplace.

The door opened and Darkkit tensed, the way he did every time Twolegs came into the place where the cats’ dens were piled. The orange she-cat on the other side of their den had been taken away the day before, and Darkkit hoped Wesley had been right and that she was going to some nice housefolk’s den.

Darkkit wasn’t so sure. Who knows what Twolegs might do? But they would need a Twoleg to let them out of their tiny den. It was fastened in a way no paw could open.

One of the Twolegs that came through the door was one Darkkit had seen before, a male who sometimes brought them food. The other two were strangers, one a female who held out her long front paws, poking through the silver web at the front of their den, the other a male with his foreleg affectionately draped over her shoulders. Darkkit sniffed dubiously at the female’s paws, scenting food and something like flowers, as both Twolegs made soft cooing noises at him.

With a click, the other Twoleg opened the web at the front of the cage, lifted Darkkit gently out, and handed him to the female Twoleg.

This is our chance! Once the Twolegs took them out of this Twoleg den, he and Smoke would be able to get away. Darkkit waited for the Twoleg to lift Smoke out of the little den. She was already moving forward toward the opening.

Instead, the Twoleg closed the silver web in Smoke’s face. Smoke and Darkkit exchanged a worried look. “They’ll come get me soon,” Smoke meowed. “Be nice!”

Darkkit could feel Smoke’s eyes on him as the Twoleg carried him out of the room. Uncomfortably, he squirmed in the Twoleg’s arms. She stroked the top of his head and Darkkit, remembering Smoke’s words, tried to settle.

The Twoleg carried him through another door and sat down, the male Twoleg beside her. The Twoleg that brought food said something to them and left, shutting the door. Both Twolegs petted Darkkit with their long paws, laughing and talking to him and each other in their Twoleg voices. Shuddering a bit, Darkkit tried to hold still and let them stroke him. I’ll just wait for Smoke; it won’t be long. Once they were together, outside the mesh den they couldn’t escape, they would be able to start their journey back to where Onewhisker would be looking for them.

After they stroked him for a bit, one of the Twolegs dangled a string in front of him and then tugged it across the floor, wiggling it back and forth. Despite himself, Darkkit couldn’t take his eyes off it.

The string flicked his nose, and Darkkit pounced. He tried to hold on, but the string was pulled away again, and he ran after it, jumping and biting. The Twolegs both laughed.

This isn’t so bad, he thought. The stroking hadn’t hurt—it reminded him dimly of when their old Twoleg had been alive, when he had been very small—and he liked trying to catch the string. He and Smoke might have fun chasing it together. He chased the string for a long time. Finally, he caught it firmly between his teeth. The Twolegs spoke to each other, and the one holding the string tugged gently on it. Darkkit lashed his tail with excitement. This was great!

Suddenly, he froze. They still hadn’t brought Smoke in.

Why not? Where is she?

He let the string fall from his mouth, feeling strangely hollow. The female Twoleg jiggled it a few more times, speaking to him in a high voice, and then reached down and picked him up in her long paws, cuddling him against her face.

Smoke’s not coming. Darkkit was sure of it. The Twolegs wanted to separate them, wanted to take him away with them and leave his mother behind in this place full of tiny closed dens.

No! Once they took him out of here, how would he and Smoke ever find each other again? He couldn’t let that happen. If they wanted a sweet kittypet to stroke and play with, Darkkit needed to be the opposite of that.

Panicked, Darkkit twisted and kicked. The Twoleg clutched him tighter, squeezing him, and he lashed out with his claws. Slashing at the Twoleg’s paws and face, he was satisfied to see a thin stripe of red appear along its cheek as he drew blood. The Twoleg shouted and loosened its grip on Darkkit, and, squirming, he pushed away, leaping off the Twoleg’s shoulder and hitting the wall.

As he bounced off the wall, his paw hit something that moved. Suddenly, the room went dark.

Darkkit landed hard on the floor. Both Twolegs were screeching now and blundering around in the dark. Darkkit shrank back, pressing his body against the wall. What if they stepped on him? They were so big!

A moment later, the light flashed back on, and the Twoleg that usually brought his breakfast scooped him up. Should I bite him? Darkkit wondered, but the Twoleg, speaking softly, was carrying him back toward the big room of little dens, where he knew Smoke was waiting.

As the Twoleg opened their den and thrust him inside, he could hear the Twolegs that had tried to take him away out in the hall, their voices loud and complaining.

“What happened?” Smoke asked, licking his ear in welcome. Darkkit took a deep, relieved breath and relaxed, his heart slowing.

“The Twolegs are trying to separate us,” he whispered, nuzzling her. “I won’t let that happen.” The Twoleg that brought food was still watching them from the other side of the silver web. Darkkit deliberately turned his back on him. He should have known that Twolegs couldn’t be trusted.

* * *

Half a moon later, Darkkit watched through narrowed eyes as the Twoleg took the food and water bowls and the thin pelt out of another little den. The calico cat who had lived there had been taken away that morning.

“She’s gone to a nice Twoleg den,” Wesley meowed approvingly. “Did you see how the Twoleg kit wanted to hold her? She’ll get lots of food and cuddles there.”

Darkkit bristled. Cats had come and gone, but neither Darkkit nor Smoke had been taken out of their small den since he had scratched the Twolegs. And Darkkit was beginning to wonder if Onewhisker was ever going to come and rescue them.

Maybe he’s found us, but this Twoleg den full of cats is built too strong for even a warrior to get in.

Maybe he looked for us in our old garden, but when we weren’t there, he moved on.

Darkkit swallowed. He was Onewhisker’s son. Surely, if the warrior had learned that Darkkit and Smoke had been taken away by Twolegs, he would have kept looking.

But for how long?

Smoke was asleep at the back of the den. The longer they were here, the sadder she seemed and the more time she spent sleeping. A cat like my mother deserves to be free, Darkkit thought. And so do I.

Would they ever get out, though? Wesley had said that cats who fought the Twolegs weren’t taken out of their cages again. “Wesley?” he asked, peering into the next den. The tabby looked up from grooming his pelt.

“What is it, kit?” he asked. “I’ve got to be fresh for the next Twoleg that comes in. Today’s my day, I can feel it.”

“Wesley, what happens to cats no Twoleg wants to take?” Darkkit asked. “You said they never leave here, but do they just grow old in their little dens?”

Wesley opened his mouth, then hesitated, looking away. “A bright young cat like you doesn’t need to be asking such questions,” he meowed. “Neither of us will be here much longer, I’m sure.”

Darkkit nodded, backing away from the web between them. It sounded to him like Wesley was leaving something unsaid, something bad. His pelt prickled uneasily. Do I even want to know the truth?

He lay down beside Smoke and nudged her until her eyes opened. “We can’t wait for Onewhisker anymore,” he meowed. “We have to figure out how to escape.”

By the next day, they were ready.

“How long do you think it’ll take before some Twolegs come?” Darkkit asked, shifting anxiously from one paw to another.

“Not long,” Smoke told him calmly. “Twolegs come here every day.”

Shortly before sunhigh, the food-bringing Twoleg came in with two strange adult Twolegs, a male and a female again, and two Twoleg kits, one walking beside them and one very small and carried in the arms of the male. They wandered around the room, looking into all the little dens.

Following the plan, Darkkit went to the front of his and Smoke’s den and gave a small meow, making his voice as sweet and coaxing as he could. “Hello, Twolegs. I’m a nice kittypet. Wouldn’t you like to take us both away from here?”

The older Twoleg kit turned to look at him and walked closer, calling to the other.

“Smoke, they’re coming over!” Darkkit widened his eyes and tried to look small and sweet. Smoke came forward to snuggle against him. As the other Twolegs joined the kit in front of their den, she licked the top of Darkkit’s head and purred. He widened his eyes at the Twolegs. “See how happy we are together?” he meowed.

The Twolegs talked to each other. The smallest Twoleg kept pointing its long forepaw at Darkkit, and he tried to look friendly. Smoke draped her tail across him, and he cuddled closer, rubbing his cheek against hers. Let this work, he willed.

The male Twoleg said something to the one that brought them breakfast, who opened the web at the front of the den and scooped Darkkit into his arms, handing him to the male Twoleg. Darkkit tensed.

“Be nice,” Smoke ordered. The breakfast-bringing Twoleg lifted her out of the den, too, and Darkkit relaxed.

It worked!

The Twoleg carried them into the same room where the other Twolegs had taken Darkkit on his own and handed him to the older Twoleg kit. It started to pat him clumsily, and the smaller kit squealed, hurting Darkkit’s ears.

He wanted to run and hide, but instead he purred loudly. This is our chance to get away.

Smoke purred, too, and rubbed the side of her face against the Twolegs, marking them, before settling gracefully into the female Twoleg’s lap. “This is what Twolegs like from us,” she meowed. “You’re doing very well, Darkkit.”

Darkkit imitated her, rubbing his cheek against the Twoleg kit’s hand, and all the Twolegs made approving cooing noises. This had better work.

A sunrise later, Darkkit ran out of the Twoleg den through a tiny flap at the corner of the den’s door—an entrance just the right size for a cat. It seemed like a good omen.

When they were trapped in a cage inside the Twolegs’ monster, Smoke had warned him that they might be going far away from where they’d lived before. “There are a lot of Twolegplaces,” she’d told him. “If they take us too far away, Onewhisker won’t be able to find us when he comes back for you. But it will be okay. These Twolegs will make sure we are safe and that we never go hungry again.”

Darkkit had flipped his tail. “My father is smart enough to find us,” he’d meowed. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll go find him.” Despite his confident words, he’d felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. How could he ever track Onewhisker down?

But then, when the Twolegs carried the cage out of their monster, his whole body had filled with joy. “Smoke, this is the same Twolegplace! We’re only a little walk from where we used to live! Onewhisker will be able to find us!”

Strangely, Smoke hadn’t seemed as excited as he was.

“Remember, I told you I don’t want you counting on Onewhisker   ” she’d begun, but Darkkit had flicked his tail at her again.

“He’ll find us,” he’d insisted.

Now, as he hurried away from their new Twoleg den, there was only one thing that worried him. What if Onewhisker came while we were gone? He would have come back to get them as soon as WindClan had a new home, and Darkkit and Smoke had been gone for a couple of moons. It had been leaf-bare when the cruel Twolegs had taken them, and now, even though there was still a chill in the air, there were buds on the trees and fresh green plants beginning to sprout in the Twoleg gardens.

There’s one way to find out. Darkkit began to run toward their old garden, his paws drumming against the ground. It didn’t matter if the Twolegs that had taken over that den saw him—he could run away. He just needed to find . . .

With a gasp of relief, he skidded to a stop. “Melody?”

The cat on top of the fence peered down at him. “Who . . .

Darkkit?” She leaped down and landed beside him. “We thought you were gone forever! I heard everything from the next garden on that horrible day. Are you all right? Where’s your mother?”

“We’re fine,” Darkkit told her. “We live with new housefolk now, just around the corner. Has any cat—”

“What a relief,” Melody purred and brushed her muzzle against his. “We were so worried. Tell Smoke that I want to see her.”

“Sure, but—”

“And you’ve grown so big! I remember when you were just a tiny kit,” Melody went on. “The new housefolk must be feeding you well.”

“They’re fine,” Darkkit meowed impatiently, as she paused at last. “But please tell me, did any cat come looking for Smoke and me? A brown tom, maybe?” Onewhisker would have asked around about us. “Did you see him? Or did any of the other cats mention it?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Melody told him. “And I’m sure if a stranger had asked any of the cats around here about you, they would have told me. What happened to you and Smoke was all we could talk about for a whole moon.” She smoothed her tail over his back. “I’m so glad you’re both safe.”

“Okay.” Darkkit felt a thrill of happiness. I didn’t miss him!

“Bye, Melody!”

He began to run, only half hearing her call after him, “Don’t forget to tell Smoke to come see me!” He was heading uphill toward his favorite tree. He’d wait there and watch for Onewhisker, who was going to take him away and train him to be a warrior.

I can’t wait!

CHAPTER THREE

“Get it away from me!” Darkpaw gasped, dashing through the room and squeezing beneath their housefolk’s couch. Grimly, he watched the smallest Twoleg stagger into the room and look around for him, whining.

Its long paws were waving in front of it, as if it couldn’t wait to grab Darkpaw, to pull his tail and mess up his fur. And why was it always so sticky! Darkpaw growled softly and eyed the den door and its cat-sized flap behind the Twoleg kit.

“He just wants to cuddle you,” Smoke remarked from where she was stretched along the windowsill. “It’s not so bad.”

“I don’t want to be cuddled,” Darkpaw snarled. “Now that it can walk properly, it’s getting too fast. When it catches me, it squeezes me hard.”

“I think he’s rather sweet,” Smoke meowed. “And putting up with a couple of Twoleg kits is a small price to pay for such a comfortable home.”

Darkpaw huffed and crouched lower, gauging the distance between himself and the door. With a shout of delight, the kit spotted him beneath the couch and toddled closer, paws outstretched. Just as the Twoleg kit got almost close enough to grab him, Darkpaw shot forward, dodged between its legs, and sprinted toward the flap in the door. Bursting through, he escaped into the garden, the Twoleg wailing behind him.

Once he was far enough away to not hear its cries, Darkpaw stopped running and licked his chest, smoothing his fur.

I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

He couldn’t understand why the chaos of the Twoleg den didn’t bother Smoke the way it did him. He was always dodging the Twolegs’ huge feet as they tromped through the den, was constantly bombarded by their screeching and yowling. Even the food they gave the cats had lost its charm: It was good not to be hungry, but every meal was the same hard brown pellets, and Darkpaw was tired of them.

At least I’m not trapped in the den. Now that it was warmer, newleaf becoming greenleaf, Darkpaw was spending more and more time outside, exploring the Twolegplace as he waited for Onewhisker to come. He’d come to know the hidden places beneath bushes at the corners of Twoleg dens and the sunny napping spots on top of Twoleg monsters. He enjoyed the scents of the flowers in the Twoleg gardens—some of the plants were even tasty.

Wandering the Twolegplace would be a pleasure, if it weren’t for—

“Darkkit!”

Fur prickled along Darkpaw’s spine in irritation as he turned to see two toms approaching, one a brown tabby, the other smaller and orange-furred. Ugh, Nutmeg and Dudley.

“It’s Darkpaw now,” he snapped. “I told you that before.”

He’d been so brave and smart in figuring out how to get himself and Smoke back to the Twolegplace that, after he’d waited a little while for Onewhisker to show up and make him a warrior, he’d thought he deserved to give himself a new name, like the warrior apprentices Smoke had told him about.

“Well, your mother told us your name was Darkkit,” Dudley meowed, smirking. “Maybe you’re a little confused? Sometimes kits have a hard time knowing what’s real.”

Darkpaw felt hot and embarrassed. He hated how Dudley never took him seriously.

“Leave him alone, Dudley,” Nutmeg meowed. “He’s just a—” Shifting his paws, he corrected himself. “He’s younger than us.”

“I know what you were going to say,” Darkpaw yowled, glaring at them both. “I’m not a kit!”

Dudley purred with laughter.

“Sorry.” Nutmeg looked awkward. “Look, Darkki— Darkpaw, we’re going to go play in Beatrice and Abigail’s garden. They’ve got a new toy mouse and we thought we’d chase it around. Want to come?”

“No, I don’t.” Darkpaw turned up his nose, his whiskers twitching with disgust. “Warriors don’t chase toys.”

“I suppose not,” Dudley mrrowed, amused. “But I don’t see any warriors here, kit!”

Darkpaw growled, putting back his ears, but the two toms had already turned away, whispering to each other. He bared his teeth at their backs, imagining slashing his claws through Dudley’s orange pelt.

It would feel so good to watch him yowl and see blood on his fur. He wouldn’t laugh at me then!

“You should go play with them.” Melody’s voice came from above his head, interrupting his vengeful fantasy. “You could have fun with the other cats around here if you just tried.”

Darkpaw looked up. Melody was sitting on top of the fence, watching him. He shot her his most disdainful look. “Warriors don’t play,” he told her. “They have more important things to do. And I’m not going to be here much longer.”

Melody leaped down gracefully and looked at him steadily, her blue eyes serious. “You should try to enjoy what you have,” she told him. “Being a warrior is a harder life than you think.” Darkpaw stiffened. “I don’t care if it’s hard,” he answered. “I’m strong enough to be a warrior and I’m going to be one. My father’s going to teach me.” He turned his back on her and stomped away, keeping his tail very straight and high with indignation.

What does Melody know, anyway?

As he went, he heard her say, “I hope you get what you want, Darkpaw.”

Turning away from where Dudley and Nutmeg were doubtless having a fantastic time chasing a boring lump of Twoleg stuff around Beatrice and Abigail’s garden and pretending it was a mouse, Darkpaw set off across the Twolegplace.

I’ll look for prey, he decided. When I go live in WindClan, they’ll need me to hunt. The problem—well, one of the problems—with living with Twolegs was that it made cats soft and silly, like tiny kits who never grew up. He didn’t want to spend time with the kittypets here. What if he became like them?

Something has to change. Onewhisker was taking too long. There must be a good reason he hadn’t come back yet. He wouldn’t have abandoned his own son.

What if I went and found him? Darkpaw liked the idea. He pictured himself striding through the forest, catching his own prey, coming at last to WindClan’s camp, where the warriors would welcome him, impressed by the journey he’d completed all on his own. It seemed independent and brave, better than just waiting around.

But how could he do that? He didn’t even know which direction he’d go. He’d tried asking the few rogue cats who passed through the Twolegplace, but none of them had known anything about WindClan, or Onewhisker.

“Don’t tangle yourself up worrying about a bunch of strange cats who like to live in the woods,” one, a skinny old tom, had told him. “Hold on to what you’ve got. Being a kittypet’s a good life.”

I’m not a kittypet, Darkpaw thought now, remembering. The only thing Twolegs are good for is feeding me and Smoke.

That was why it was important to learn to feed himself. When he became a Clan cat, he’d hunt, and all his Clanmates would be grateful when he brought them prey. Onewhisker would be proud of him.

A new scent hit his nose as he turned another corner, and he opened his mouth to taste the air. He almost gagged at the nasty scent of Twoleg garbage but scented, beneath it, something rich and mouthwatering. There was a rustle, and a skinny naked tail twitched out of sight behind one of the Twoleg garbage bins.

Rat!

Rats were good eating. Crouching, Darkpaw began to slink toward the garbage bins, his ears perked to listen for more movement. From this angle, he could see the fat gray rat chewing away on some kind of crow-food. It hadn’t noticed him. He hunkered down lower, tensing his hindquarters as he prepared to charge.

In a flash of black fur, another cat dashed past him and pounced, biting down on the rat’s neck in a practiced move. With a muffled squeak, the rat went still.

“Hey!” Darkpaw yowled, outraged. “That was mine!”

The other cat, a sleek black tom, turned to look at him. He dropped the rat, keeping a possessive paw on it. “If it was yours, it would be in your mouth, not mine.”

Darkpaw bushed out his tail and narrowed his eyes. “Mine!” he hissed. “You stole it!”

The tom’s sharp green eyes glittered with amusement. “Calm down,” he meowed. “There are worse things than losing a rat to me. I’m a very good hunter. If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll give you a few tips.” He gave Darkpaw a considering look. “You could use some help with your stalking crouch. My name’s Ravenpaw, by the way.”

“Ravenpaw?” Darkpaw’s building rage died down. “Is that a Clan name?”

Ravenpaw cocked his head to one side, his gaze intrigued. “You know the warrior Clans? I was a ThunderClan apprentice once, but that was a long time ago. Now I live in a barn with my mate, Barley. I only came to the Twolegplace to visit a cat I know here.”

“You used to be in a Clan?” Darkpaw was puzzled. “Why would a cat stop being in a Clan and become a barn cat? Clan cats own the forest!”

Ravenpaw flicked his ears, looking slightly uneasy. “It’s a little more complicated than that. And my reasons for leaving the Clans are a long story. But I’m happy where I am. You know the Clans aren’t here anymore, right?”

“I know.” Darkpaw took a deep breath, feeling shy. “I’m going to be a warrior cat, though. My name is Darkpaw.”

“That certainly sounds like a Clan name,” Ravenpaw purred. He looked at Darkpaw for a few heartbeats and seemed to come to a decision. “I feel bad about taking your rat, kit. If you want to come back to the barn with me, you can have a bit of it and I’ll tell you more about the Clans. It’s a long walk, though, I warn you.”

Darkpaw warmed with pleasure. This cat had once been a Clan cat, just like Onewhisker—although he’d been a ThunderClan apprentice, which probably wasn’t as good as being in WindClan—and he wanted to tell Darkpaw about it! “I’d love to!”

It was a long walk to Ravenpaw’s barn. Ravenpaw let Darkpaw carry the rat part of the way, as they left the Twolegplace, carefully crossed a Thunderpath together, and skirted the edges of scrubby moorland. Darkpaw thought the place looked familiar, but there were no strong cat smells here.

“Is this WindClan territory?” he asked when they stopped for breath, putting down the rat.

“It used to be one of their borders,” Ravenpaw meowed sadly. “But most of the territory is gone now. You’ll see when we get to the top of the hill.”

As they came over the rise, Darkpaw froze. Where there had been trees, bushes, and gently sloping grassy hills was now a sea of mud, marked with the tracks of Twolegs and their monsters. The skeletons of Twoleg dens rose from the mud, laid out in what seemed like a copy of the Twolegplace they’d left. Beyond, part of a Thunderpath wound through more mud, stopping abruptly at the paws of a group of large yellow monsters.

“They’re building more Twoleg dens here,” Ravenpaw told him sadly. “That’s why the Clans are gone.”

No cat could live here, Darkpaw thought. Did the Twolegs really need this many more dens, and all at once? But, despite his horror, relief spread through him, too, a lessening of an anxiety he hadn’t even known he was carrying.

Onewhisker was telling the truth. WindClan really was in danger, and they had to leave. He didn’t want to leave me behind; he had to.

And that means he’ll come back, just like he said.

Ravenpaw’s barn was a big, mostly empty Twoleg den that smelled pleasantly of hay and mice.

“Barley!” Ravenpaw called as they walked in. Darkpaw peered around at the shadowy corners, trying to make out the shape of another cat, but he still jumped when a black-and-white tom leaped down from the rafters overhead.

“You caught a rat in the Twolegplace and brought it back here?” Barley purred, amused. “Aren’t there enough rats and mice in our barn for you?”

“Ah, but the ones from the Twolegplace get fat on Twoleg scraps,” Ravenpaw told him. “They have a special flavor.”

“And who’s this?” Barley asked, looking at Darkpaw.

“My name’s Darkpaw,” he answered. “I carried this rat a long way after Ravenpaw stole it from me.”

Ravenpaw flicked his tail dismissively. “I didn’t steal it; I caught it. I’m just a better hunter than you. You’ll learn, I’m sure.” He nudged the rat toward Darkpaw. “You can have some of it, though. Mind you don’t eat the whole thing.”

Darkpaw lowered his head and took a bite, the sweet blood of the rat rushing over his tongue. But Barley was staring at him, concerned.

“That sounds like a Clan name.” He turned to Ravenpaw. “They didn’t leave him behind, did they?”

Ravenpaw shrugged. “He named himself. He lives in the Twolegplace, but he’s very interested in the Clans.” Hunkering down, he took his own bite of rat.

Barley sat down, wrapping his tail around his paws. “Well, if you’re interested in the Clans, Darkpaw, you’ve come to the right place. I don’t imagine any cats around here now know more about the Clans than we do. Ravenpaw was an apprentice of ThunderClan, of course, and I knew the Clans well. Firestar, who leads ThunderClan, is a good friend of mine.”

“Really?” Darkpaw meowed, swallowing a bite of rat. He would rather hear about WindClan than this other Clan, but he was still interested.

“Oh, yes,” Barley meowed. “Ravenpaw and I helped the Clans drive off the rogues calling themselves BloodClan, although they weren’t anything like Clan cats. They wanted to take over the forest, seasons ago. The Clans had lived in the forest for generations, since long before I came here.” He paused, saddened. “They’re all gone now, of course. Rogues couldn’t steal the Clans’ territory, but Twolegs could. Ravenpaw and I showed them an abandoned Twolegplace where they could rest when they were leaving, and let them hunt before they started their journey.”

Darkpaw perked up his ears. “Do you know where they went?”

Barley and Ravenpaw looked at each other; then Ravenpaw shook his head. “I was with them that last night,” he meowed, “and they believed they got a sign from StarClan. When they left, they were heading in the direction of a falling star.” He paused. “I couldn’t tell you where they ended up, though, kit.” Disappointment overcame Darkpaw. But . . . “StarClan?” he asked. This was a Clan that Smoke had never mentioned. If they were showing the other Clans where to go, maybe they were even more important than WindClan?

“It doesn’t matter,” Ravenpaw told him. “They’re gone and they’re not coming back. There’s no reason for a young kittypet like you with a comfortable life to worry about them.”

“I’m not a kittypet.” Darkpaw glared at Ravenpaw. “I’m going to be a warrior. My father promised he’d come back for me.”

There was a moment of shocked silence, and Barley and Ravenpaw looked at each other, their eyes wide.

“Your father is a warrior?” Barley asked at last.

“What’s his name?” Ravenpaw’s voice was sharp.

Smoke said Onewhisker might have to keep me a secret. “I can’t tell you,” Darkpaw meowed. “But he’s coming to get me soon.”

Barley and Ravenpaw exchanged another glance, and Darkpaw bristled: They looked like they felt sorry for him. I don’t need their pity—they’re just a couple of barn cats!

“The Clans have probably gone a long way from here. Maybe too far to come back,” Ravenpaw meowed slowly. “I’m sure your father wants to return for you, but it might be difficult.”

Darkpaw felt more frustrated than ever, a hot ball of irritation forming in his stomach. “I’m going to be a warrior.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him a little more about the Clans,” Barley suggested. Ravenpaw, his face troubled, only shrugged, and Barley turned back to Darkpaw. “Would you like to hear about that battle I mentioned, where Ravenpaw and I fought by the side of all the Clans?” At Darkpaw’s eager nod, he settled comfortably on the barn floor. “Well, first of all, you have to understand about Tigerstar. He was the cruelest cat in the history of the Clans, although it was a long time before we all knew what he’d done ”

It was a good story, full of betrayal and violence. Ravenpaw chimed in occasionally, correcting Barley or clarifying what he’d been doing during the battle, but mostly he let Barley talk. Darkpaw listened wide-eyed until Barley reached the end, in which both Tigerstar and the invading leader of BloodClan, Scourge, were dead on the battlefield and the Clan’s territory was safe once more.

“Wow,” Darkpaw meowed. “There’s one thing I don’t understand, though. You said that Firestar died? But then he was all right in the end. Do you mean he got hurt so badly that he almost died?”

“The Clan leaders each have nine lives,” Ravenpaw explained. “StarClan, the ancestors who watch over us—over them—give them the additional lives to help them in their job of leading and protecting their Clan. So Firestar was able to die and come back to life.”

Darkpaw stared at him. Ravenpaw must be lying. Clan cats were strong and brave, he knew that—he was practicing being strong and brave himself—but living more than one life was impossible. “Really?” he asked doubtfully. “How do their ancestors give them more lives?”

“It has something to do with their Moonstone,” Barley told him. “I never saw it myself, but there’s a huge hidden stone, and the Clan cats talk to their StarClan through it.”

“A hidden stone?” Darkpaw echoed. He was pretty sure that Barley was making this up. The older cat clearly loved to tell a good story. There might be a speck of truth in it, though. No cat could live more than once, he knew that. But maybe there was a special hidden stone that only true Clan cats could visit. He turned to Ravenpaw. “Is that true?”

Ravenpaw looked uncomfortable. “It is. I accompanied Bluestar, who was leader when I was part of ThunderClan, to it once.”

Slowly, excitement built inside Darkpaw. Whether StarClan could really give cats nine lives or not, there was a stone that let Clan cats talk to their ancestors. And it must be somewhere near here. If he went there, StarClan could tell him where WindClan was now, and how he could find his father. “Where is the Moonstone?” he asked, jumping to his paws.

“Oh, um—” Barley looked taken aback. “I don’t know exactly, although I know more or less—”

“You don’t need to know.” Ravenpaw cut him off.

Darkpaw flinched as if Ravenpaw had just swiped at him. “Why not? Please tell me where it is. I need to find—” Remembering Ravenpaw’s sharp voice when he asked who Darkpaw’s father was, he bit back his words. “Since I want to be a warrior, I should talk to StarClan.” And they can help me find Onewhisker and the Clans.

Ravenpaw sighed. “It wouldn’t do you any good, Darkpaw,” he meowed. “StarClan only helps Clan cats. You’ve got a Clan name, it’s true, but you gave it to yourself, didn’t you?”

“Kind of,” Darkpaw admitted. “But my father really is a warrior. Doesn’t that matter?”

“Of course it matters, but the Clans are gone, and your father went with them.” Ravenpaw’s voice was kind, but that didn’t help the misery filling Darkpaw’s chest at his words. “We don’t know what happened to the Clans or where they are now. Since they’ve moved on, maybe you should let them go and stop thinking about them.”

“I’m sure you have friends in the Twolegplace,” Barley meowed encouragingly. “It’s best to think of them, and your life there, instead of always worrying about the Clans.”

The scents of mice and hay suddenly felt suffocating. Darkpaw dipped his head and tried to breathe. There was something hot and heavy building inside him.

These cats didn’t think his father was coming back, he realized. They thought Onewhisker had left him here.

What if they’re right?

Darkpaw pushed the thought away. I know they’re wrong.

He wanted to yowl at them and attack them with his claws. But they were the only cats who could tell him any more about the Clans than the little bit Smoke knew.

“I have to go,” he meowed abruptly. “It’s getting late.”

He managed to get out of the barn without snarling at Ravenpaw or Barley. He couldn’t make them angry: He needed them to tell him more. As he threaded his way between the leafy plants outside the barn, laid out in neat Twoleg rows, and then skirted the fields of mud that had once been WindClan’s territory, his anger burned hotter and hotter. He dragged his claws through the dirt, making deep lines, and slashed his tail through the air.

The sun was low in the sky and his paws were sore from walking by the time he entered the Twolegplace again. The burning anger he’d felt when he left the barn had been replaced with a hollow feeling. He just wanted to go back to the Twoleg den and eat his ridiculous tasteless brown pellets and curl up with Smoke to sleep.

He turned the corner and his steps slowed: There were kittypets near his Twoleg den. Nutmeg and Dudley were lounging in the grass near the path. Beatrice, the pale brown-and-white she-cat who lived a few streets over, was with them. Darkpaw thought about turning around and leaving. But Beatrice had already seen him and was waving her tail in greeting.

“Well, look who it is,” she called. “Where were you all day, Darkpaw? Hunting and battling with your warrior friends? You should have come to my garden to play.”

Darkpaw tried to shoulder past her. “Warriors don’t play,” he muttered.

Dudley arched his back. “Don’t be silly, Beatrice—the great and powerful warrior Darkpaw doesn’t have time for us,” he meowed mockingly. “Better watch out for him, since we’re just little housecats.” Nutmeg mrrowed with laughter and Beatrice gave an amused purr.

“Back off,” Darkpaw growled. Dudley was always teasing him.

Encouraged, Dudley puffed out his chest. “You think you’re so special, you and your warrior father. Too good to hang around with us. He’s coming for you any day now, isn’t that right?”

“Oh, lighten up, Dudley,” Beatrice meowed. “He can be a little weird if he wants to.”

“Stop it, Dudley,” Nutmeg agreed. “Let him believe what he wants.”

“He can believe whatever he wants; I’m not stopping him,” Dudley meowed. “But he’s a liar, and so is his warrior father. If there’s any cat you can’t trust, it’s a warrior.”

Darkpaw couldn’t stop himself. What did Dudley know about warriors? How dare he talk about Onewhisker and the others that way? With a snarl, he rushed forward and threw himself against Dudley, knocking him to the ground.

Nutmeg and Beatrice backed away in alarm. “He was just joking,” Beatrice meowed.

From the ground, Dudley looked up with shocked eyes. “Sorry, Darkpaw,” he muttered. “I was only teasing.”

Darkpaw didn’t care. He stalked forward, unsheathing his claws. I’m finally going to give him what he deserves. He thought again, with pleasure, of what blood would look like on Dudley’s orange fur.

“Darkpaw!” Suddenly, Smoke was running toward them from the Twoleg den. “Darkpaw, come with me right now.” Out of breath, she stepped between Darkpaw and Dudley, blocking Darkpaw with her body.

Darkpaw blinked. “But—”

“I need you in the den right now.” Smoke put her shoulder against his and pushed gently, urging him to turn away from the other cats. Darkpaw resisted for a few heartbeats and then, reluctantly, let her lead him away.

“I saw you from the window,” she whispered as they walked out of earshot of the others. “Darkpaw, you can’t fight with them like that. We live so close; we all need to get along.”

Darkpaw didn’t answer. Instead, he looked back and saw Dudley, still on the ground, watching them go. Darkpaw narrowed his eyes and glared at the orange tom.

This isn’t over.