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Flipclaw’s jaw hung open as he processed the sight in front of him. It was a fresh-kill pile, that much was obvious. On the whole it wasn’t any bigger than the one he remembered from back in ThunderClan’s camp. The prey heaped on top, though, was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Scattered throughout the pile were a few of the animals he was more familiar with—hares, small finches, and some mice. But the bulk of the fresh-kill piled there was made up of a kind of massive bird as large as a full-grown cat. There were only four that Flipclaw could see, and yet together they dwarfed the rest of the prey. Just one looked to be enough meat to feed four or five cats.

I bet the Tribe only needs to send out two or three hunting patrols a day to catch enough prey, the brown tabby tom thought excitedly. He felt his fur spike with curiosity. Even something as ordinary as hunting was so much more different in the mountains than he could have anticipated. Then another thought occurred to him with alarm. Wait—how do they hunt birds this big? Those talons could tear my whole pelt off!

Mind abuzz, Flipclaw turned to ask one of the Tribe cats about the giant birds. But he found only empty air beside him. Confused, he glanced quickly around the cave, realizing that the cats who had greeted him and Graystripe had each gone off in different directions. Graystripe’s son Stormfur had taken him over to one side of the cave to share prey. The Tribe’s leader—Stoneteller, Flipclaw remembered—seemed to have vanished back into one of the tunnels. And Stormfur’s mate Brook had settled down with their kits a short distance away. The entire group had dispersed while he was staring at the fresh-kill pile.

Flipclaw turned back to the prey with a sigh. Should I just take something? He was starving from the long climb up the mountain with Graystripe, and he could already feel his mouth beginning to water from the tantalizing scent of all the fresh-kill sitting just in front of him. But somehow it felt wrong to take prey from the Tribe’s pile by himself. They had invited him to eat, but as their guest he didn’t feel right simply helping himself to everything their cats had caught.

His stomach rumbled, and Flipclaw felt his resolve weaken. Maybe if I just grab a small mouse…

A tail brushed his shoulder, and a light purr sounded in his ears. “You look awfully hungry.”

Startled, Flipclaw turned to his right to see a long-haired gray tom standing beside him with an amused look on his face. He was one of the cats who Stormfur and Brook had introduced as their kits, Flipclaw recalled. Feather… Feather something?

Embarrassed, Flipclaw gave his chest fur a quick lick. “Yes, a bit,” he admitted, feeling his shoulder fur stand on end. “But I wasn’t sure if it was okay for me to take prey by myself…”

The gray tom blinked warmly, his eyes a faint blue. “It’s fine,” he mewed. “Here.” He leaned in towards the pile, and with a few decisive bites, tore off two pieces from the wings of one of the large birds. Laying them down on the ground, he turned back to Flipclaw. “Why don’t you come eat with me?”

“Are you sure?” Flipclaw asked, shifting his paws on the cold stone floor of the cave. “I don’t want to pull you away from your kin.”

“I’m sure they’ll get by without me,” the tom said lightly. “In the Tribe, we always eat with others. Since you were standing there all by yourself like that, I thought I’d offer to join you.”

Hesitantly Flipclaw gave a brief nod. With a swish of his tail, the other tom bent down to pick up the two pieces of prey he’d picked out. Then he turned and carried them across the cave.

Flipclaw padded after him. When they’d stopped at a spot just near the cave wall, a good distance away from any other cats, the gray tom set the prey down again and turned back towards him, indicating with his tail that they should sit.

“I’m sorry,” Flipclaw blurted out, “I don’t remember your name, exactly. I think it was something like… Feather Hawk?” He could feel his pelt spike all the way down his spine, and his face grew hot. He’s going to think I’m mouse-brained.

But the other tom simply blinked again, his jaws opening calmly. “I’m Feather of Flying Hawk,” he mewed politely.

“Feather of—”

The tom cut him off. “Just Feather is fine,” he purred, his eyes sparkling with humor. “We don’t use our full names all the time. They are something of a mouthful!”

“Just Feather,” Flipclaw repeated, matching his light tone. “Feather. Yeah, that makes sense.” He swished his tail pleasantly through the air and sat down. “Hi. I’m Flipclaw.”

“I remember,” Feather mewed, settling onto his stomach beside him. “And you’re from ThunderClan, like Graystripe, right?”

“Right!” Flipclaw chirped. “There are five Clans—you probably knew that—and ThunderClan’s the best one—at least, that’s what I think, although the cats in the other Clans probably think—”

A loud rumble from his stomach cut in mid-ramble. Flipclaw let out a bashful purr and glanced at the piece of the bird’s wing sitting in front of him. “Er—could we start?” he asked.

Feather purred in agreement. “Definitely. We can share about ourselves after we’ve shared prey.”

Flipclaw could hardly hold himself back. Jaws open wide, he leaned forward to tear into the wing.

“Hold on.” Feather frowned and thrust a paw in front of him, blocking him from the mouth-watering fresh-kill. “You probably don’t know how we share prey here.”

Flipclaw stared back at him, confused, his jaws still gaping hungrily. What do you do with prey besides… eat it?

The gray tom’s whiskers twitched. “Didn’t think so. Alright.” He nodded at the piece of meat in front of Flipclaw. “Take a bite from it. Just one.”

His stomach was still demanding he snarf down the entire wing as quickly as possible, but Flipclaw forced himself to hold back and did as the Tribe cat had instructed, taking a single good-sized bite off the edge of the fresh-kill. At his side, he saw that Feather was doing the same thing with his own piece.

Once they’d finished chewing, Feather nodded again. “Now we swap,” he meowed happily. Placing his paw on his piece of the wing, he passed it over to Flipclaw.

Flipclaw felt his ears perk up. “Oh! That’s really cool,” he meowed, sliding his own piece back over to Feather in exchange.

The gray tom shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use for it,” he said, his mew slightly amused. “But I’m glad you find our customs interesting.”

“Arr ou—” Flipclaw tried to say, nearly choking in the process—he’d already taken another huge bite out of the prey. He hurriedly swallowed, eliciting another mrrow of laughter from Feather, then managed to speak more clearly. “Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “Everything about this place is interesting! The things you can see from this high up in the mountains, the waterfall hiding your cave… and you don’t even have to deal with any other Tribes!”

Feather tilted his head slightly to the side. “Well, that’s not entirely true,” he said. “There’s another group of cats that lives a little farther down the mountain. We have to patrol our borders to make sure they don’t take prey from our territory.” He took another small bite out of his prey, then added, “Although I suppose that doesn’t seem like a big deal to you. You probably have to keep watch for all of the other Clans on your borders.”

“Only SkyClan and WindClan,” Flipclaw corrected him. “Our territories all surround the lake, so we don’t share borders with the other Clans.” He wrinkled his nose. “And the Clans are supposed to work together, most of the time.”

Feather looked at him quizzically. “And do they?

Flipclaw blinked, realizing his tone must have given something away. I didn’t think he’d pick up on that so quickly. “Not while I’ve been a warrior,” he admitted. “We’ve been having problems in the last few moons. It led to a huge battle between all the Clans, and a lot of cats died.”

The other tom’s eyes grew round, their blue deepening. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he murmured. “We haven’t had a battle here since before I was born. That must’ve been horrible.”

Something brushed against Flipclaw’s back, and he flinched. Then he realized Feather had brought his tail up to rest gently on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Gradually he relaxed again; the Tribe cat’s tail was soft and fluffy.

“That’s part of why I’m here, actually,” he said after a moment. “None of my kin died in the battle, but it made me… worried, I guess. I felt like I didn’t know what the Clans were supposed to do anymore. So I left with some other ThunderClan warriors to go on a wander, and ended up following Graystripe here.”

“That makes sense,” Feather said softly. “You needed to figure out if your place in ThunderClan is still what you thought it was.”

Flipclaw nodded, grateful that the gray tom understood.

“For what it’s worth, I think it would be better to live in a place with lots of different groups around.” Feather’s mew was lighter now, like a storm lifting. “I’d be fascinated to see what all the different Clans are like.”

“Really? You think that’s better than having all this territory for yourselves?” Flipclaw asked, surprised. He actually wants to deal with a bunch of different groups all bickering over prey?

The long-furred tom purred, stroking his tail down Flipclaw’s spine. “Maybe sharing land and prey isn’t easy, but… I’ve always wanted to know how cats from other places think and act.” He blinked warmly at Flipclaw. “I’m definitely enjoying meeting you, if nothing else.”

His pelt growing hot, Flipclaw let out a small, clumsy purr of his own in response. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Same here.”

Silence descended awkwardly over them, and Flipclaw cast about in his mind, trying to find something else to ask Feather about. He was halfway through his piece of the bird when it occurred to him.

“These birds you hunt are—” He paused briefly to swallow. “—huge!”

“They’re called eagles,” Feather said. “I take it you don’t have them at the lake?”

Flipclaw shook his head emphatically. “Definitely not. I’ve never seen anything like them! Well,” he mused, “I guess that’s not completely true. I had a dream once that I was hunting some birds—small birds, not like this one—but then they grew really big, as big as an eagle, and they turned around and started chasing me instead! It was crazy.”

He turned his head to see Feather staring at him slack-jawed. The gray tom’s eyes were frozen in an odd half-slant, as though he wasn’t sure whether he should look serious or not. Then he closed them and let out a loud purr, rolling partially over onto his side.

Flipclaw frowned, confused. “What? What’s so funny?” He whisked his tail across the stone floor nervously. I hope I didn’t say something stupid.

Feather let out a casual sigh. “Well, nothing exactly,” he said, amusement rippling through his mew. “Just… you, the way you talk, you know? You’re funny.”

“Oh!” Flipclaw meowed, his ears perking up again. “My Clanmates say so too.”

“Well, they’re right,” Feather purred. He rolled back onto his front again. “I caught the eagle we’re eating earlier today, actually.”

Flipclaw felt his eyes grow wide as he stared straight at the other tom. “Really?!” he gasped, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. “All by yourself?”

His companion quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, definitely not. No cat can catch an eagle by themself—the cat would become the prey instead in that situation. We hunt in small groups to bring them down.”

“That’s still really impressive,” Flipclaw mewed, his tail-tip twitching. “That means you’re a… prey-hunter, right?” He felt pride shoot lightly through his chest for remembering the term for Tribe cats who learned to hunt, as opposed to the cave-guards who learned battle techniques. I’m glad I listened when Lionblaze was telling us those stories!

“Right,” Feather said, ears flicking in acknowledgment. “I’m the only prey-hunter out of my siblings, actually. My parents’ first litter—Pine and Lark—they both took after our father. Big and sturdy, exactly how a cave-guard should be.” His whiskers curled. “So when Breeze and I were born, every cat assumed we’d be the same, and I started my to-be training as a cave-guard. But… well, look at me.”

The gray tom stretched his forelegs out in front of him, claws flexing. Flipclaw could see what he was getting at—underneath his thick fur, Feather was long-legged and lithe, built almost like a WindClan cat. He inherited Stormfur’s stone-gray pelt, Flipclaw thought, but not much else.

“I turned out much more like my mother,” Feather finished. “Fast, not strong.”

“I can see,” Flipclaw said truthfully.

The Tribe cat tilted his head. “But you don’t have anything like prey-hunters in the Clans, right? Every cat learns to hunt and fight.”

Flipclaw nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never thought much about which I’m better at, honestly. I just feel like… an ordinary warrior.”

Feather tapped his shoulder lightly with his tail-tip again. “Well, if you stay here in the Tribe for a while, maybe you’ll realize you’re better at one of them.”

“Maybe,” Flipclaw agreed, purring.

Suddenly Feather stiffened, his ears perking up as an idea seemed to catch him. He jabbed one of his front paws at Flipclaw’s side excitedly. “Hey! Why don’t you come hunting with me tomorrow?”

Flipclaw’s fur stood on end. “Really? Is that okay?” he asked, a thrill of excitement running down his own spine as well.

“Definitely,” Feather meowed with satisfaction. “Unless Graystripe was planning something else that you two need to do, I can’t imagine Stoneteller would have a problem with it.” The gray tom’s eyes glowed eagerly as he stared at Flipclaw.

“I don’t think he had any plans,” Flipclaw said, hearing the enthusiasm in his own voice. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Great!” Feather crowed. He got to his paws, whisking his tail for Flipclaw to follow him. “Come on, we can go check with him just in case.”

Energy coursing through his legs, Flipclaw rose and followed his new friend across the cavern. With every step he felt a small jolt of excitement rush through him—when he had woken up that morning, he mused, he could never have imagined how well the day would turn out. I’m so glad I came here!

Flipclaw waited impatiently near the cave’s mouth, scraping a paw across the cold stone floor. The silvery starlight that had flickered through the waterfall in front of the entrance the previous night was gone, replaced by the bright, steady stream of a sunny greenleaf morning. The brown tabby tom flexed his claws, itching to leave and get the hunt underway. He felt wonderfully refreshed after the meal he and Feather had shared and the full night’s sleep he’d gotten afterwards—he wanted to leave now and see everything the Tribe’s mountain had to offer in daytime. But Feather had told him to wait while he gathered other cats to join their hunting patrol.

I don’t see why we couldn’t hunt together, just the two of us, he grumbled silently. I bet we could catch an eagle together—oh!

His ears flicked up and his bad mood dissipated instantly as he spotted Feather returning from across the cavern, two other cats following close behind him. They drew up in front of Flipclaw, and Feather indicated them each with his tail to introduce them.

“This is Crest of Snowy Mountain,” he said, indicating the white she-cat on his left, “and you met my brother Pine last night.” On his other side, the light brown tom stepped forward, dipping his head in greeting.

“Hi,” Flipclaw meowed, nodding at Crest, “I’m Flipclaw, a warrior from ThunderClan.”

“Like Stormfur used to be.” She nodded in return. “How do you like the mountains so far?”

“They’re great!” Flipclaw answered honestly. “I’m excited to see what it’s like to hunt here.”

Crest seemed to scan her gaze across his pelt briefly. “You’re going to be a prey-hunter?”

“What?” Flipclaw blinked, confused. “No, no, in the Clans we don’t divide up tasks like that. I’m not—”

Pine stepped forward, his eyes a clear amber. “She means on this patrol,” he explained kindly. “We know you’re trained to fight and to hunt. Each of our hunting patrols is made up mostly of prey-hunters, with a cave-guard brought along to defend against eagles.” His tail swished lightly. “And I’m the cave-guard on this patrol, so… that means you’re playing prey-hunter for today.” He paused, then added, “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Hesitant, Flipclaw turned back to Feather for reassurance. The gray tom blinked at him warmly.

“You’ll do a great job as a prey-hunter, Flipclaw,” he said, blue eyes wide with honesty. “That’s why I brought Pine along. I didn’t think that… well, you’re not the biggest cat, is all.” He ducked his head, licking his chest fur briefly.

Flipclaw felt a nervous purr rumble up from his chest. “Oh, that makes sense,” he said, whiskers twitching at Feather’s embarrassment. “I don’t mind being a prey-hunter, at least for today.”

Feather’s head shot up again, his eyes sparkling. “Perfect!”

Purring, Crest raised a front paw. “Let’s get underway, then,” she meowed. “The eagles won’t just wait around for us!”

With the white she-cat in the lead, the group began to head out of the cave. As they passed the waterfall, Flipclaw felt the spray tickle his pelt, and resisted the urge to dash forward like an excited kit. Everything here is so cool and different!

Keeping a brisk pace, the patrol marched steadily down the mountainside, weaving around boulders and jumping over small crevices. Flipclaw knew he was more nimble than most ThunderClan warriors, and didn’t have much difficulty keeping up with the Tribe cats, but he still found himself caught off guard whenever the others hopped across a gap in the rocky terrain without hesitation.

Eventually their path took them off the mountain’s crags and onto a smoother downward slope covered in soft dirt. Glancing ahead, Flipclaw spotted a grassy plateau at the slope’s base, and realized that must be their destination. We’ll definitely find more prey there than up on the rocks.

As the four cats proceeded down the hill, Flipclaw realized that Feather was slowing his pace and falling ever so slightly behind. As he drew level with Flipclaw, the gray tom murmured, “Hang back here with me. Let them go on ahead.”

“What?” Flipclaw responded softly, even as he did as his friend asked and slowed down. “Why?”

Feather gave him a sly look, blue eyes flashing mischievously. He waited until they had put a fox-length or so between themselves and the other two cats at the head of the patrol before answering. “I’m trying to help Pine out. He really likes Crest.” The prey-hunter swished his tail. “So I thought we should give them some time to talk alone.”

Flipclaw’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he meowed softly. “Wow, sure. If you think it’s a good idea.” All at once his stomach wrapped itself into a tight knot.

Feather frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I just didn’t expect it to be something like that, that’s all,” Flipclaw mumbled, gazing straight ahead down the slope.

The gray tom studied him curiously. After a moment, he flicked his ears forward, as if realizing something. “Did you ever feel that way about a she-cat? Back in ThunderClan?”

How did he guess that? Flipclaw’s pelt burned. “Sort of…” he mewed, still avoiding the other tom’s gaze. “But it wasn’t a big deal.”

“I see.” Feather didn’t seem inclined to press the subject. “I’ve never really taken an interest in she-cats, so I can’t say I fully relate… but Pine’s my brother, and I want to help him be happy, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Flipclaw said. He felt his forehead wrinkle with confusion. He’s never been interested in a mate?

Feather interrupted his thoughts, nudging him slightly and nodding at where the other two cats had halted a short distance up ahead. “Looks like they’ve stopped.”

Glancing up, Flipclaw realized that Crest and Pine had paused just at the edge of the grassy field, their tails raised tentatively. Quickly he and Feather padded down the last stretch of the slope to join them. The grass was soft and relieving underneath Flipclaw’s pads after so long walking on the rocky mountainside.

Crest greeted them with a brief nod, her gaze focused on a point somewhere far across the field. “Look,” she mewed quietly, pointing with her tail. Flipclaw followed with his eyes and immediately saw what had captured her attention: Halfway across the plateau was a pair of rabbits, their backs to the hunting patrol as they nibbled contentedly on the stems.

“We’re downwind,” Feather whispered.

“And the sky is clear,” Crest purred, her tail swishing with anticipation. She inclined her head towards Pine. “But we are still exposed out here. Yowl as loud as you can if we need to take cover.”

The light brown tom blinked in acknowledgment. “Of course.”

“Right. We’ll split them up, I think.” Crest turned back towards Flipclaw and Feather, narrowing her eyes as she looked them over. Then she nodded. “I’ll take one rabbit and chase it off towards the right side of the field. Feather, why don’t you and Flipclaw take the other one to the left?”

“Sounds good,” Feather meowed. He swung his muzzle towards Flipclaw, eyes shining with excitement. “I’ll chase it towards you, okay?”

“Okay!” Flipclaw chirped, unsheathing his foreclaws eagerly. At another nod from Crest, the group separated. Flipclaw moved a short distance over towards the left side of the plateau, taking up a ready stance near a steep slope of small rocks, while Feather and Crest crept slowly towards the prey at the plateau’s center. Pine remained where they had arrived, to keep watch for eagles.

As Flipclaw watched from a distance, Crest flicked her tail sharply to the side in a signal, then leapt forward, claws outstretched. Feather matched her, diving towards the rabbits beside her at a slight angle. The prey reacted instantly, a pair of alarmed squeals echoing across the plateau as the rabbits abandoned their food and fled from the prey-hunters’ fangs.

Crest targeted the rabbit on the right, driving it away from where Flipclaw waited. At the same time, Feather was herding the other rabbit in the opposite direction, curving around so that it would cross in front of the rocky slope.

Flipclaw tensed, wiggling his haunches as he prepared to pounce the moment the rabbit was near enough. I’ll show them a proper ThunderClan hunting crouch!

Closer… closer… then… Now! The rabbit was veering towards him, Feather bearing down just behind it, his claws tearing up the grass in his wake. Putting every ounce of effort he could into the movement, Flipclaw leapt forward, snarling. He barreled into the rabbit before it could react to his presence. With a sharp bite to the back of its neck, it was over.

Feather skidded to a halt beside him. “That was fantastic, Flipclaw!” he breathed, his fluffy gray pelt a mess from the chase.

Flipclaw dropped the rabbit’s limp body onto the ground and sat back modestly onto his haunches. “I didn’t really do that much,” he said. “You were the one who chased it over here. You’re really fast, Feather.”

The prey-hunter’s eyes glowed with delight. “Thanks,” he purred, his tail swishing. “I hoped you’d be impressed. But I couldn’t have caught it without you there. That was an incredible hunting crouch!”

“You think so?” Flipclaw gave his chest fur a lick. “It’s just a normal ThunderClan hunting crouch. Every apprentice in my Clan learns it.”

Feather nudged his shoulder. “Well, I don’t know about every ThunderClan cat, but what I saw you do was amazing.”

“I guess so,” Flipclaw said, a small purr rising up from his chest.

Again Feather prodded him with a forepaw. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

Satisfaction trickled down Flipclaw’s pelt like a cool newleaf breeze. “Yeah, we do,” he said cheerfully.

Feather moved directly next to him and settled back onto his hind legs as well, his thick fur brushing softly against Flipclaw’s own. Flipclaw let out another purr and relaxed; off in the distance he could see Crest still pursuing her own rabbit.

“Do you think she’ll manage to catch it?” he asked after a few silent moments.

“Hm?” Feather blinked, as if coming out of his own thoughts. “Oh, Crest? Yeah, she’ll get that rabbit no problem. She’s even faster than I am.”

“That’s good, then,” Flipclaw murmured.

Another quiet moment passed. Then Feather pulled away, returning to all four paws and pacing a short distance. Finally he turned back towards Flipclaw again, his tail hanging cautiously in the air.

“Alright, tell me what happened,” the gray tom meowed.

Flipclaw jerked back, thrown by his friend’s serious tone. “What? What are you talking about?” he asked defensively, getting to his paws as well.

Feather tilted his head slightly to the side. “Earlier, when I brought up Pine’s crush on Crest. You were obviously bothered by something. I want to know what happened with the she-cat you liked.”

“It’s none of your business,” Flipclaw snapped. Instantly he felt bad. I didn’t mean to be harsh. I shouldn’t have said it like that. He turned away, wishing he didn’t have to think about the topic at all. “I just don’t want to talk about it,” he grunted, more neutrally this time.

He felt Feather move up alongside him once more. Gently the gray tom draped his tail over Flipclaw’s back, and after a moment spoke again. “Come on. You can tell me.” His mew was apologetic. “I don’t mean to pry, just… I can tell you have something on your mind.”

Slowly Flipclaw let out a sigh. “Alright,” he admitted, giving in. “One of the cats who left ThunderClan with us. Flywhisker. I liked her a lot. I… I thought there was a chance she might feel the same way about me.” He focused on his paws. “When we both left to take a wander, it just seemed perfect. So I told her how I felt.”

He winced as he recounted the final part of the story, aware that Feather would have already guessed how it ended. “Flywhisker didn’t see me the same way. She was… very clear about that. So our group split up—Flywhisker and her littermate went off somewhere else, and I followed Graystripe here.”

“I’m sorry.” Feather rubbed against his flank. “It’s her loss. You’re a really fun cat to be around.”

Something leapt in Flipclaw’s chest at the other tom’s words, but he pushed it aside. “You don’t need to make me feel better,” he muttered. “It’s been a few days. I’m fine.”

Abruptly Feather darted in front of him and turned to face Flipclaw dead-on. Flipclaw gazed back at him, startled.

“I’m just being honest,” Feather mewed, eyes wide with sincerity. “I think you’re great. I’m sorry about what Flywhisker said, but… I am glad you ended up coming to the mountains. Otherwise I would have never met you.”

Flipclaw paused, jaws slightly agape. He had been preparing to automatically dismiss what the other tom said. He doesn’t even know Flywhisker. But standing there on the windswept plateau, taking in Feather’s face, his soft gray fur earnestly fluffy… He really means it.

The leaping sensation returned to his chest, and this time Flipclaw didn’t dismiss it. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know for a fact how things would’ve gone if I’d stuck with Flywhisker—but I know I’m happy here.

He shook his head rapidly, as if to clear away the confusing thoughts. Then he blinked warmly at Feather, raising his tail in a friendly gesture. “Thank you,” he mewed. “I really appreciate that. I’m… I’m glad I met you too.”

Feather nuzzled his flank affectionately. “Do you think you might… stay here?” he asked, his mew hesitant.

“I… I don’t know.” Flipclaw shifted his paws, uncertainty rippling across his mind. If I stay, I might never see the lake again… I might never see the rest of ThunderClan, or my parents or littermates. But Feather’s wide blue eyes seemed to make everything else fade away. I could stay. I could stay.

“I hope so,” he said finally, an upbeat note taking over his mew.

The happiness in the Tribe cat’s voice was unmistakable. “I hope so too.”

A patter of pawsteps broke into Flipclaw’s thoughts, shattering the stillness of the moment. Turning towards the source, he saw Crest racing towards them, her white fur on end.

“Did something go wrong?” Flipclaw called to her. “Where’s the rabbit?”

The she-cat halted a short distance away, flicking her tail with irritation. “It scrambled up one of the slopes near here,” she growled. “I lost sight of it among the rocks.” For a moment Flipclaw worried she might be angry with him and Feather for not noticing and intercepting the prey. Then he realized her harsh tone wasn’t meant for them. She’s probably just angry with herself for not being able to catch it first.

“Do you want us to try to corner it up there?” Feather asked, flicking his tail towards the rocky hillside.

Crest shook her head. “No, it’s too risky. There isn’t enough stable footing on the rocks for two cats to hunt together. I’ll go by myself.”

Feather nodded, and Flipclaw blinked his acknowledgment as well. Crest started to pace away, towards the smoother slope their patrol had traveled down.

Then she stopped, her ears shooting straight up as she spotted something behind the two toms. “Pine!”

Flipclaw swung his muzzle around, looking upwards until he found the light brown tom perched several fox-lengths up the slope. His gaze was narrowed, intent on something in front him: The rabbit, crouched between two boulders not far away, its expression blissfully unaware.

“What’s he doing up there?” Feather gasped.

“He must have spotted the rabbit from near the slope and figured he was closer to it than any of the rest of us,” Crest mewed with astonishment. Then she shook herself briefly. “But he has to get down. He’s not nearly experienced enough at hunting to catch it in that kind of terrain.”

Flipclaw turned back to Feather, a low rumble of amusement coming out of his throat. “Isn’t that something? Your brother wants to try being a prey-hunter!”

The Tribe cat’s eyes lit up briefly with humor. Then the glow faded and he furrowed his brow, his expression growing rapidly worried. At the same time, Flipclaw heard an odd sound from the direction of the slope—like a branch crashing down from a tree back at the lake.

Before Flipclaw could turn to see what it was, he saw Feather’s eyes go wide with terror. The gray tom leapt forward, paws stretched towards him. “Flipclaw!” he yowled.

Something soft but powerful crashed into Flipclaw from behind, and his world went dark.

Flipclaw stretched his leg and groaned.

It didn’t hurt, exactly, but he could feel that it was still not as steady as it should have been. Still, he felt like he could walk on it just fine. But Stoneteller had ordered him to spend a full day resting before he tried putting weight on the injured leg again. So here I am, cooped up in my nest like a kit. His paws itched to get up and do something, anything, even though he’d only been lying there for less than a day—the hunting patrol and the accident that had caused his injury had been earlier that morning.

The first thing he remembered after blacking out was the concerned faces of Stoneteller, Stormfur, and several other Tribe cats gathered around him on the grassy plateau. There had been a small landside, Stoneteller had explained, brought about when Pine had dislodged a chunk of rock and dirt from the slope in his pursuit of the rabbit. Flipclaw and Feather had been caught underneath, and while Feather had escaped with only minor bruises, Flipclaw had gotten totally buried. The other cats had had to clear dirt out of his throat in order to revive him.

Maybe I should feel lucky I didn’t get any broken bones. But his right hind leg had been dislocated by the force of the falling debris, and Stoneteller had had to set it back into place before carrying him back to the Tribe’s cave on his back. Flipclaw winced as he recalled the brief, searing pain of the bone returning to its socket, but he knew he would’ve had to put up with much more ache—not to mention boredom—if any bones had actually been broken.

He glanced out at the cave entrance. Night had fallen, turning the waterfall’s hue silver with starlight once more. I suppose I should get to sleep. The sooner he did that, the sooner it would be the next day, and he wouldn’t have much longer to go before he would be able to get up out of the nest again and go on another hunting patrol.

Pine had already stopped by earlier in the afternoon to offer his apologies; Flipclaw had assured him they weren’t needed. He didn’t consider it Pine’s fault the landslide had happened—Crest had made it clear to them that no cat could’ve navigated the rocky slope perfectly. It was just bad luck. He stretched as best he could in the small nest again and grimaced. Really bad, stupid, awful luck. After Pine, Graystripe had come over to check that he was okay. Then Crest had stopped in, and then Stoneteller once again, bringing a pawful of healing herbs for strength with him.

Pawsteps sounded nearby, and Flipclaw tasted the air. He recognized the approaching cat’s scent immediately—but even if he hadn’t, he would’ve been able to guess who had come to see him. Every other cat he knew here had already come by—though he was surprised this cat was last and not first.

“How do you feel?” Feather asked cautiously. “I hope you’re not in too much pain.”

Flipclaw swiveled his muzzle around to face the other tom, blinking. “It doesn’t hurt at all,” he said honestly. “I just wish I could get out of this nest, already.” He shifted his legs in the bedding to accentuate his frustration.

Feather’s tail twitched. “Yeah. That must be pretty annoying.” His tone was still hesitant. “Still, at least it’s only one day.”

“One day feels like forever,” Flipclaw groaned. Then he realized he had no idea how bad Feather’s own injuries were. “What about you?” he asked hurriedly. “Are you feeling alright?” I hope he doesn’t think I’m rude for not asking sooner!

“Huh?” Feather seemed to refocus his gaze. “Oh, yeah, don’t worry about me. I was barely hurt.” He flicked his tail dismissively.

Flipclaw wasn’t sure why the gray tom seemed so distracted. He’s normally so direct, so observant. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Maybe you should have Stoneteller check you over again.”

“I’m fine,” Feather mewed neutrally.

A horrible thought crept into Flipclaw’s mind. At once he tried to push it away—but the more he gazed at Feather, his gray pelt disheveled, small cuts and bruises running the length of his body, the more the idea seemed painfully likely. Is he mad at me?

“It’s really unfortunate this had to happen so soon after I got here,” he tried, probing to see how Feather responded.

The gray tom’s tail lashed. “It shouldn’t have happened at all!” he growled. He scraped at the cave floor with one forepaw, and Flipclaw saw him briefly unsheathe and then re-sheathe his claws. “Landslides are a part of life in the mountains. Every cat knows that. But two cats getting caught in one is… something that hasn’t happened before in my lifetime. It’s awful!”

Flipclaw tried to take an optimistic tone, despite his own frustration. He wasn’t sure how else to respond to Feather’s outburst. “It could’ve been a lot worse, though,” he meowed. “Like, a lot worse. We could’ve wound up with broken bones, or even died.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Feather ground out.

Then the prey-hunter shook himself briefly, the fur across his shoulders going flat. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Flipclaw said, trying to sound as convincing as he could. But a small, dark pit was forming in his chest even as he put on the cheery affect. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s really not fine,” Feather said, staring at the ground. “You’re hurt worse than I am; you don’t need to deal with my… petty little eagle droppings, on top of that.” He sighed and raised his head, briefly making eye contact again. “Goodnight. I hope you sleep well, Flipclaw.”

“Goodnight, Feather.” Flipclaw didn’t try to force the cheeriness into his voice this time.

The other tom’s pawsteps receded, and Flipclaw was left alone in his nest again.

The pit in his chest ballooned into a huge, heavy stone. The dreadful thoughts crept out of the corners of his mind into full view, and Flipclaw laid his head down into the nest, suddenly not caring whether he could go hunting the next day, or the day after that, or ever again.

Feather blames me. The notion made him feel terrible, even worse than when Flywhisker had turned down his advances, but he forced himself to confront it—I can’t lie to myself about this. He had to face the truth. It’s my fault Feather was hurt, because he was trying to push me out of the way of the falling rocks. Tribe cats knew how to avoid getting caught in landslides—only poor, stupid Flipclaw, who didn’t know the first thing about living in the mountains, only he was foolish enough to stand right underneath one and not even turn around. If it had been any other cat on that patrol, Feather wouldn’t have been hurt.

And then he made the final leap, and his chest grew heavier with despair than he would’ve thought possible. If Feather hadn’t made the mistake of caring about me, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt trying to save me.

None of this would have happened if he hadn’t come to the mountains. And, laying in his nest, the sky outside pitch-black, Flipclaw couldn’t remember what had seemed so compelling about them in the first place.

Maybe they only seemed so exciting because I was with Feather. And Feather hates me now.

He turned over in the nest, pain wracking his whole body—and not from his injuries. There’s nothing here for me anymore. I should’ve known it couldn’t last. I should’ve known I was never going to find happiness.

He told Stoneteller he was leaving the next day. He still had to rest his leg for the remainder of that morning, but the following day it would be safe for him to begin the trip back to ThunderClan. The healer seemed slightly disappointed to hear he was leaving so soon, but promised to send an escort to see him safely off the mountain once he was ready.

That same day, Graystripe departed the mountains to visit the old forest. Flipclaw bade farewell to him, but he didn’t fully understand the old tom’s reasons for needing to go back there. Still, in a way, it seemed fitting to him—clearly, both of them had realized the mountains were not where they were meant to be. Soon they would both be off, Flipclaw back to the home where he belonged and Graystripe to… whatever it was he thought he might see in the remains of the Clans’ old territories.

Flipclaw spent the rest of the day in his nest, thinking of how glad he would be to see the lake and his kin again. Feather didn’t stop by to speak with him.

A part of Flipclaw wasn’t surprised. A part of him wished he was.

When the second day since the accident finally arrived and Stoneteller presented Flipclaw with his escort, the brown tabby tom felt his stomach twist a little. The cats Stoneteller had chosen to accompany him down the mountain were Feather and Pine. He gave each of them a cordial nod, and they responded in kind—Flipclaw spotted confusion in Pine’s expression at the obvious tension in the air. It’s fine. Feather will explain it to him after I’m gone.

Their small patrol set off down the mountain again, this time taking a much more direct route than when they’d gone hunting. Pine led the way, and Flipclaw followed close behind. Feather stayed a short distance behind both of them.

As they trekked down the slopes, Flipclaw realized with a start that he had no idea what had even happened to the rabbit he and Feather had caught together on the hunting patrol. Presumably, its body was still buried underneath the pile of rocks and gravel—there wouldn’t have been much point to digging it out, since it was hardly edible with so much dirt packed into its fur.

It was late morning, almost midday, by the time they reached the foot of the mountain, but the sky was still a cloudy gray overhead. Flipclaw hopped down the last few boulders, settling his paws comfortably onto the earth below. He looked around, taking in the smells of more grass and other plants than he’d experienced in the past few days. A dry, grassy plain stretched out from the mountain’s base; in the near distance he spotted a small patch of forest.

He swished his tail, already planning to head there once the Tribe cats had departed. I guess I’d better say goodbye, first.

He turned around—Pine had padded out into the field beside him, but Feather still hung back just near the mountain’s base. Another twinge of regret shot through Flipclaw’s chest, but he forced himself to stay focused. There’s nothing I can do.

Pine blinked warmly. “I hope you find your way back to your Clan safely,” he meowed. “Be careful with that leg.”

“I will,” Flipclaw said. “Thank you.” He glanced over at Feather once more, then back towards the distant forest. “I… I guess I’ll be off.”

The light brown tom’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Wait here.” He darted back towards the slope, coming to a halt in front of Feather. From a distance Flipclaw watched as Pine said something to his younger brother that Flipclaw couldn’t make out. The prey-hunter seemed to hesitate, but at another gesture from Pine’s tail he finally sighed and nodded his head.

Slowly he padded across the field, stopping a short distance in front of Flipclaw. His expression was thoroughly neutral. Flipclaw gazed into his eyes, trying to find any hint of the clever excitement that had seemed to always motivate the gray tom before the accident. Again he was disappointed—Feather’s blue gaze was as inscrutable as the rest of him. I shouldn’t have expected to see something that isn’t there.

“What was that about?” Flipclaw asked, jerking his muzzle towards where Pine now sat beside the mountain.

Feather scuffed a paw at the dirt. “You remember… on the hunting patrol… how I said we should hang back and let Pine and Crest talk alone?”

Flipclaw nodded. It seems like so long ago.

“Well…” Feather hesitated, then seemed to force the words out. “Pine seemed to think he owed me something similar. He thought you and I should take a moment to say goodbye, since…”

“Oh. Yeah.” Flipclaw gave another brief nod. “That’s kind of him.”

“He’s a good brother,” Feather mewed softly.

“Definitely,” Flipclaw said, trying to force a purr out of his throat. It didn’t come. He glanced over his shoulder at the forest again. “Well… goodbye, Feather. I hope you… have a good life,” he finished awkwardly.

Feather blinked. “You too,” he whispered. “Goodbye, Flipclaw.”

His paws as heavy as stones, Flipclaw tore himself away from the gray tom’s gaze. His chest felt like it was splitting in two, but he forced himself to turn around. He could no longer see the mountains or the blue sky above them. There was only the field and the forest in front of him, and there was nowhere else for him to go.

Heartbroken, Flipclaw placed one paw in front of the other and began the slow trip back to ThunderClan.

“I’m sorry!” Feather blurted out.

Flipclaw halted mid-stride. Even as denial shot through him, whispering that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, he found his paws turning back around automatically, until he was staring at Feather’s soft gray pelt once more.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Feather said, his mew pleading. His tail was whisking frantically from side to side, and his eyes were shining with emotion. “I didn’t mean to ruin the Tribe for you! I know you were really excited about hunting in the mountains, and it’s my fault that all went wrong… I know you won’t want to spend time with me anymore, but it’s not fair that you should have to leave just because—”

“What?” Flipclaw gasped, confusion running down his pelt and threatening to knock him off his paws. He stared straight back at Feather, grief and bewilderment and hope all swirling through his mind. “What are you talking about?! You didn’t ruin anything for me!”

Feather was shaking, every word seeming to throw him more and more off balance. “Yes, I did! It’s my fault you got hurt in the landslide!”

“That’s—that’s—” Flipclaw spluttered. He strode forward, marching across the grass until he was standing just in front of the Tribe cat. “It’s my fault you got hurt in the landslide! I was the one who couldn’t get out of the way in time!”

The gray tom gaped in utter shock. “Of course not! You’d never been in the mountains before! You had no way to know what to do!” His mew dropped to almost a whisper. “It was my responsibility to keep you safe. I failed to push you out of the way. You could’ve died because of me.”

Flipclaw felt the knot in his chest squirm—as if almost ready to untangle itself. “I thought you were mad at me because I got us both injured,” he whispered.

“I was mad at myself.” Feather stared back at him in awe. He blinked. “Did you—did you really think I blamed you?”

Flipclaw nodded. “I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me anymore,” he said softly.

Feather took a step forward, bringing his muzzle close to Flipclaw’s own. “I promise, I never wanted to be rid of you,” he mewed. “I’m so sorry you thought that.”

Flipclaw’s chest rattled; he could feel the hope waiting just beyond, ready to rush in. But something still held him back.

“I thought… I thought that once you got to know me well enough,” he mewed, despondency filling his voice, “you’d realize I was just an—an idiot—and you’d be done with me…” His mew cracked. “Like Flywhisker was.”

“I could never think you’re an idiot,” Feather breathed. Wonder lit up his face, and somewhere, deep in Flipclaw’s mind, he knew it was because of himself. “I think you’re amazing, Flipclaw. I’ve never met a cat who’s just… as fun to talk to as you are. I’ve never met a cat with as much energy as you, or… or who has a hunting crouch as good as yours.”

Flipclaw gazed back at him, an inexpressible happiness spreading across his pelt. “Really?” he whispered.

“Really,” Feather mewed decisively.

Then the gray tom’s eyes widened again as something seemed to click in his head. “Do you…? Did you say you felt the same way about me that you did about Flywhisker?”

“Yes,” Flipclaw burst out, the final wall in his chest crashing down. “But so, so much more than I ever felt for her! I like you, Feather. I really, really like you.” He gathered up the light swirling in his stomach and flung it outward. “I… care for you.”

Feather moved forward, closing the last small gap between them, and buried his muzzle in Flipclaw’s neck fur. “I care for you, too,” he whispered.

Flipclaw let out a deep sigh and nuzzled into the other tom’s fur in return, breathing in his scent as deeply as he could. Feather’s tail stroked down his spine, and Flipclaw purred, relaxing as he settled into the tom’s soft, fluffy gray pelt.

“I want to stay here,” he mewed into Feather’s shoulder, “with you. I want to spend my life here in the mountains, with you.”

Feather stiffened for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. “What about ThunderClan? What about your kin?”

Flipclaw knew he was making a choice that would change his life forever. And he knew that part of him—a big part—would miss his littermates, would miss his parents, would miss all of ThunderClan. But there was no doubt in his mind. “I’m sure,” he meowed. “I can always visit them, from time to time.” He flicked Feather’s tail with his ear affectionately. “But you’re the cat I want to go hunting with. You’re who I want to share prey and a nest with.”

“I want that too,” Feather murmured. “I can’t think of anything better than hunting with you every day, Flipclaw.” He gave one last gentle nuzzle into Flipclaw’s shoulder, then drew back.

Flipclaw matched him, locking his gaze straight onto Feather’s. The prey-hunter’s eyes were a deeper blue than Flipclaw had seen since arriving at the Tribe, every part of them swelling with fondness and hope. And he feels all that… for me. It was hard for Flipclaw to get used to the idea of another cat caring about him that much, not because they were his kin but because they wanted to.

I’m still not sure I deserve all that. He still considered himself, in every way, an ordinary ThunderClan warrior. He wasn’t sure what there was in him that made him worth Feather’s attention and love.

But Flipclaw knew that Feather believed he was worth it, and as long as that was the case, he could do his best to try to see the good in himself, too.

He glanced briefly up at the mountains, and imagined the giant eagles that he knew were lurking somewhere up in the peaks, waiting to swoop down on unsuspecting cats. He still didn’t know how in the world the Tribe managed to catch them—but he was going to find out. Someday, I’m going to catch an eagle myself. Then he looked back to the cat in front of him, and corrected himself with a purr. Feather and I are going to catch an eagle together.

“So are we going back?” Feather asked, his mew thrilled. “Both of us?”

Flipclaw walked forward until he stood alongside the Tribe cat, then pressed against his flank. Tenderly, he twined his tail together with Feather’s.

“We’re going back together,” he said at last.

Slowly they ascended the mountain. Flipclaw felt his heart soar as they climbed higher and higher into the sky.