Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You can’t send me back there,” Bumble whispered. “Please, listen to me. Tom will kill me if I return.”

She watched, her heart sinking, as Wind and Gorse exchanged irritated glances. The two rogues had offered to escort her out of the moor cats’ camp back to Twolegplace. Now that they were standing at the edge of the Thunderpath that led back to Twolegplace, Bumble’s heart was beginning to pound. She gazed into Wind’s eyes, hoping for sympathy. But the wiry brown she-cat only glared at her.

“He’s only a kittypet.” There was an edge of scorn in her voice. “What’s a kittypet going to do to you?”

“He’s hurting me,” Bumble cried.

“Fight back.” Wind shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe it’ll make him stop.”

“A kittypet like you doesn’t belong in the wilderness,” Gorse added. “You’re better off back with your Twolegs.”

Panic pulsed through Bumble, but given their expressions, she knew neither of the rogues would try to help her out. Despair bubbled up in her chest. If Turtle Tail—her own best friend—had refused to help her, then what hope did she have? She was all alone here, defenceless and vulnerable. There was no cat who would help her.

“Just go home,” Wind grunted. “You’ll be safer there.”

Once both rogues left her standing there, Bumble watched their retreating forms until they disappeared into the undergrowth. Her chest tightened. She glanced over in the direction where Twolegplace stood waiting for her, but just the sight of it made her think of Tom. It made her think of what he’d do to her if he got his paws on her again. Fresh fear surged through her veins.

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

She wasn’t going back there.

She would rather face the dangers of the wilderness over Tom’s abuse any day.

—

The sky was full of stars, and the half-moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery shadows upon the forest floor. Bumble shivered, huddled beneath a clump of bracken. Her stomach growled with hunger. Her scratches stung with every movement. The screech of an owl made her yelp in alarm, and she crouched deeper beneath the bracken, her heart thudding in her chest.

Her gaze darted wildly from side to side. Were there predators out there? What if a fox or a badger was watching her right now? Terrified, she pressed her belly to the earth, hoping the darkness would conceal her.

Sitting there, shivering from the cold, Bumble longed for the warmth of her bed. She wondered what her housefolk would think if they could see her now, stranded and alone and afraid. Her heart ached at the thought of them. Would she ever see them again? She didn’t see how; when Tom had driven her away from her home.

As she lay there, thoughts began to swirl in her mind. The memories of everything that had happened to her since she’d left her Twolegs seemed to collapse like falling rocks on top of her, and she lay helpless beneath the weight of her misery. She remembered Turtle Tail refusing to help her out. She remembered how the moor cats had openly taunted her weight, her kittypet background, and how she would be useless living amongst them. Their words weighed on her mind.

She doesn’t look as if she’s short of prey!

You’ve been a kittypet all your life. There’s no way you’d survive in the wild, hunting for your food. You spend most of your days sleeping! You’d be so vulnerable out here.

There’s absolutely no way you can come and live in the hollow with these cats. You’re a kittypet. You don’t know how to hunt, you’re soft and lazy, and you’re used to eating too much food. You wouldn’t be able to contribute to the group. And not only that— your presence would put the lives of other cats in danger. There’s simply no place for a weak cat in the wild.

Bumble closed her eyes, worn out and defeated. She wondered how she even ended up here. For a moment, she regretted ever meeting Turtle Tail. Had Turtle Tail never came to live with her and expected Tom’s kits, none of this would have happened. Tom wouldn’t have started taking his anger out on her after Turtle Tail had fled.

Wearily, Bumble lifted her head to gaze up at the stars.

Against the crow-black sky, they glinted like chips of ice, cold and uncaring in the face of her misery.
—

She’d lost track of time. She didn’t know how long she’d been stranded in the wild. But with the hunger aching in her belly and the exhaustion threatening to drag her into the earth, she knew it had been more than a quarter-moon since Wind and Gorse had left her by Twolegplace. She swayed on her paws, her head spinning. She’d found abandoned crow-food two days ago, and her hunger had driven her to gobble it up, but she’d retched it soon after. Now her belly was empty again.

She was so desperate for food that she considered going back to Twolegplace. But the memory of Tom’s abuse resurfaced in her mind.

“Why did you tell her about the kits?” Tom had snarled, swiping a hefty paw at her muzzle. “Have you completely lost your mind, you stupid she-cat?”

The force of his blow had thrust her to the ground. Blood welled on her muzzle.

“I’m sorry!” Bumble sobbed. “But Turtle Tail’s my friend. She was really worried—”

“She ran away with my kits!” Tom snapped, cutting her off. “All because you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut!”

Bumble suppressed a shudder, forcing the memory to the corner of her mind. No, she couldn’t go back. There was nothing waiting for her but more torment and anguish. Even if she was cold and hungry out here, it was better than what Tom would do to her. She only hoped he wouldn’t come and search for her.

Her collar jingled noisily as she stumbled through the woods, snapping her out of her thoughts. Bumble came to a halt, tugging at it irritably. She wished she could yank it off, but it held firm around her neck. So far, her collar had been the reason why she’d failed to catch any prey.

If this goes on any longer, I’ll starve to death, she thought, feeling a shiver pass down the length of her body.

A sudden breeze whisked through the clearing, bringing with it the scent of strange cats.

Bumble stiffened, the fur on her shoulders lifting. She parted her jaws apart, tasting the air. She didn’t recognize their scent.

Ahead of her, she could make out the sound of approaching pawsteps.

“Come out!” A stern voice called out. “We know you’re there.”

Apprehension coiled deep in Bumble’s belly. Hesitantly, she emerged from behind the undergrowth, finding herself faced with three cats. She didn’t recognize two of them; one was a bulky white tom and another was a yellow she-cat. Both of them glared at her, hostility in their gaze. But the third cat looked vaguely familiar. He was a young ginger tom with white paws. He stared at her, bewildered.

“Bumble?” He sounded puzzled. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you a kittypet? Shouldn’t you be with your Twolegs?”

The yellow she-cat rounded on him. “You know this cat?”

The ginger tom seemed to shrink back at the accusation in her voice. “Er . . . she just came to our camp on the moor once.”

So he’s one of the moor cats, Bumble realized. I don’t remember what he’s called, though.

She straightened, forcing herself to ignore the pounding of her heart.

“I’m not a kittypet—not anymore,” she declared. “I told the moorland cats that I wasn’t going back to the Twolegplace, and I didn’t. I really didn’t. I’m a wild cat now.”

“Wild or not,” the yellow she-cat snorted, “you can’t be here.”

“That’s right,” the white tom added. “You’re trespassing. This is Clear Sky’s territory.”

Frustration churned through Bumble. She was too hungry and exhausted to be pushed around like this. Why were the wild cats so stingy about their borders, anyway? It wouldn’t make a difference if she took one piece of prey and left. They would still have more than enough food left.

“I can go where I want,” she muttered resentfully.

The white tom slid out his claws and took a threatening step forward, his eyes glittering menacingly. Bumble would have stood her ground, but when the yellow she-cat let out a feral snarl, she knew there was no way she could take on these vicious cats by herself.

Her heart pounding, she turned and fled into the undergrowth, not even caring that twigs and brambles scraped at her pelt. Fresh fear surged through her when she heard thundering pawsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the two cats were chasing after her. Panic seized her chest. They’ll kill me!

To her dismay, her collar caught on a low-hanging branch, yanking her back. Bumble tugged desperately, but her collar wouldn’t budge free. The rogues were gaining on her. Fear shrilling through her pelt, she pulled with all her might, ignoring the tightening sensation around her throat. When a loud tearing nose ripped through the air, Bumble stumbled, letting out a gasp as her collar broke free.

Not wasting a moment, she turned and fled into the undergrowth, her tail streaming behind her. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she burst from the woods, skidding to a halt at the edge of a Thunderpath.

Looking back, she could see the white tom and yellow she-cat standing at the far end of the clearing.

“Get out and stay out!” the white tom yowled after her.

Frightened, Bumble didn’t respond and fled across the Thunderpath, not even bothering to check for monsters. Once she reached the opposite side, she didn’t stop running. When her strength finally gave out, she collapsed to the ground, her sides heaving, her vision blurring.

Exhausted and afraid, she could only close her eyes and let darkness claim her.

—

I’m going to die here.

The thought came with far less fear than it should have. But by now, Bumble was ready to give up hope. She knew no cat was coming to rescue her. The wild cats clearly weren’t interested in helping a kittypet like her. But it wasn’t as if Twolegplace was any safer. If she ventured there, Tom would inevitably know of her return. He was always crafty enough to find out about any cat’s whereabouts. All the other kittypets feared him, and would tell him about her return just to stay on his good side.

And so Bumble stumbled through the woods aimlessly, feeling her strength seep away from her with each passing heartbeat. Her legs trembled with every pawstep. Her breathing came in short, ragged whispers. Her muscles were still taut from where the rogues had chased her out of Clear Sky’s territory.

Her paw caught on a loose bramble, and she fell to the ground.

Another day, she would have sprang to her paws and impatiently shook out her pelt, ready to keep walking. But right now, Bumble only closed her eyes. Exhaustion pulled at every crevice of her body. Lying there on the ground, Bumble longed for the warm embrace of death. At least if she were dead, she wouldn’t be hungry anymore. She would no longer be cold or afraid or wounded. Death was more merciful than the living world. She only wished she could have said a proper farewell to her housefolk. In a distant part of her mind, she thought it was ironic that Twolegs showed her far more kindness than other cats did.

But as she lay there, waiting for death to take her, her heart kept beating. Her blood kept flowing.

She was still alive, that much was clear.

Death, for one reason or another, was refusing to come to her.

It wasn’t long before frustration flared in her heart, bringing back a sense of clarity.

If death won’t come to me, then why would I go to it?

Summoning every shred of her strength, Bumble forced herself on her paws. She waited until the dizziness eased away and once her head cleared, she straightened and parted her jaws to taste the air. She could smell nothing but the musk of the forest. But then movement flickered at the edge of her vision, and when Bumble turned her head, her spirits rose when she glimpsed a mouse scuffling at the roots of a tree.

Lowering herself to the ground, Bumble quietly placed one paw in front of the other. Now that her collar was gone, the jingling of her bell would no longer scare the prey. For the first time, she actually felt confident. The mouse had its back to her, and didn’t seem to notice her approaching. Holding her breath, Bumble crept forward silently.

I can do this, she thought.

Bunching her muscles, Bumble sprang through the air, but before she could land on the mouse; something barreled into her from the side, sending her sprawling on the ground.

Yelping, Bumble landed with a hard thump on the ground, the breath knocked out of her chest.

The mouse let out a terrified squeak and tried to scurry away, but a big paw slammed down on its spine, killing it instantly.

Looking up, Bumble met the hostile blue gaze of a pale gray tom.

“This is my prey that you’re hunting,” he snarled. “You’re on my territory!”

Oh, no. Bumble’s heart sank with dismay. Not another territorial wild cat!

Shakily, she stumbled to her paws, swaying on her feet. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass. But I haven’t eaten in nearly a moon.” She gazed at him desperately, hoping this cat would have a shred of sympathy. “Please, let me have this mouse. I promise I won’t come back here again.”

The tom’s lips pulled back in a snarl. His gaze was hard as he eyed her contemptuously.

“Why would I give prey to a rogue when I have to feed my own cats?” he snorted. “Who even are you, anyway?”

“Bumble,” she whispered.

“Bumble?” His gaze sharpened. “Are you that kittypet Petal and Frost drove away?”

Bumble froze, alarmed. “Are you . . . Clear Sky?”

“Yes,” Clear Sky said in a low growl, sliding out his claws. “I’d have thought you wouldn’t return after Petal and Frost chased you off.”

“But they drove me out of your land,” Bumble protested. “I’m not trespassing.”

Clear Sky took a threatening step forward, prompting her to back up.

“This is part of my new territory,” he hissed. “My borders are always expanding.” His eyes narrowed and his tail twitched ominously behind him. “Clearly Frost and Petal went easy on you. Clearly you need to be taught what happens to those who trespass on my land.”

Panic flared in Bumble’s chest, but before she could even think to speak, Clear Sky lunged at her, as fast as a snake.

His claws raked over her muzzle, splitting open her nose. Blood spurted in the air and Bumble flinched back, shrieking with pain. But Clear Sky wasn’t done with her. As she cringed away, his claws sliced through the tip of her ear. He caught a powerful blow on her cheek, and another on her shoulder. Blood flowed from her pelt. Agony scorched through her like fire.

She raised her paws to feebly defend herself, but Clear Sky knocked her to the ground as easily as if she were prey.

For a moment, she imagined she was back with her housefolk; thrust to the floor by Tom as he slashed at her pelt. She choked back a wail of terror.

As she struggled to scramble to her paws, Clear Sky aimed a vicious kick at her, sending her sprawling. He pounced on her, his claws scoring deep scratches along her flanks. Blinded by fear, Bumble tried to throw him off, but in her weak state, it was like trying to throw off a badger. When his claws caught the soft flesh of her belly, she couldn’t suppress a screech of pain. Fear flooded through her. Was she going to die here?

When Clear Sky sent her skidding against the grass with another brutal swipe, Bumble tried to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. Black spots danced at the edge of her vision. Nausea rolled through her. Clear Sky approached her slowly—likely to finish what he’d started—and he seemed to be saying something, but Bumble didn’t hear him. A terrible dizziness overwhelmed her, making the world around her spin. The ground lurched beneath her paws.

Everything went dark.

—

“This was a good haul,” Night said cheerfully, dropping the carp she’d caught onto the pile of fish they’d gathered. “I think this is enough to bring back to the island.”

River Ripple nodded in agreement. He and Night had just finished their daily morning habit of fishing by the river. Judging by the pile, River Ripple guessed they would both be well-fed for the next few days. Pride warmed his pelt.

He looked out across the riverbank where he could see the stretch of woods ahead of him. River Ripple tipped his head, considering. As much as he savored the salty taste of fish, he’d missed the warm blood of forest prey. He knew he could hunt fish any time he liked. But once leaf-bare came, it would be rare if he could find land prey when it would all be in hiding.

Making up his mind, he rose to his paws.

“I think I’ll go and hunt in the woods before I head back with you,” he decided.

“Really?” Night looked up at him in surprise. “But we’ve caught enough fish.”

“Yes, but I miss the taste of warm prey.” River Ripple shrugged.

“You really have the appetite of a badger don’t you?” Night rolled her eyes. “Well, bring back a mouse, if you can. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.”

"Will do." River Ripple's whiskers twitched with amusement.

“Also, watch out for those mountain cats,” Night added, her pelt prickling. “I’ve heard that some of them are starting to lay down borders. If they catch you, they’ll rip your pelt off.”

“Then that’s all the more reason for me to savor the forest prey while I still can,” River Ripple said, his mouth twisting wryly.

“Greedy-belly,” Night huffed. “Just don’t take too long. And don’t forget my mouse.”

When she headed back to their island with the fish they’d caught, River Ripple crossed the stepping stones that led to the opposite bank where he could see the thick undergrowth that led to denser woods.

The sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, and birdsong filled the air. When River Ripple reached the strip of woods on the outskirts of his island, he could already pick up on the scent of a squirrel from a breeze that blew in his direction.

Following the scent-trail, he emerged from behind a bramble thicket, spotting the squirrel nibbling on an acorn. Thankfully, the wind was still blowing in River Ripple’s direction. Crouching low, his belly fur brushing the grass, River Ripple crept forward, his gaze narrowed in concentration. When he was within distance, he landed squarely on the squirrel, cutting off its shriek of terror with a swift bite to the neck. Pride sparked in his chest, and he raised his tail triumphantly.

Night asked for a mouse, he thought. But a squirrel will have to do for now.

Before he could move to head back to his island, an acrid tang reached his nose. Frowning, he parted his jaws apart to taste the air. River Ripple stiffened when he recognized the smell at once. Blood.

His fur lifting along his spine, River Ripple slowly followed the scent, his belly churning with apprehension. He clamped his jaws firmly around his squirrel in case he had to run from whatever he might find.

But when he stepped through the ferns, emerging into a small clearing, he came to a halt.

The squirrel dropped to the ground.

At the roots of an oak tree lay a she-cat. Her dappled tortoiseshell pelt was ragged and unkempt, and even from a short distance, he could see how scrawny she was. But what left him breathless with shock was all the blood. There were long, scarlet scratches marring her fur from several wounds she’d received. She lay unmoving, even as the wind stirred her fur.

Horror pulsed through him. Is she dead?

But when he stepped closer to her, he could see the faint rising and falling of her chest. She was alive, but scarcely. The wounds all across her body were fresh, and River Ripple’s body went rigid when he saw that blood was gushing from them, staining the grass around her. And she looked half-starved. He could count every one of her ribs poking out from beneath her unkempt, bloody pelt. She was holding onto life by a thread. If he left her here, she would bleed to death.

Warily, River Ripple crept forward. He gently prodded her with a paw. “Hey.”

The she-cat’s eyes flickered open, and a shuddering breath passed through her lips. Her yellow eyes were glazed with pain. She stared at him for a couple of heart beats, her expression puzzled, as if she couldn't make him out. But when her senses seemed to return, fear flashed in her gaze. Her pelt bristled, and she moved to get up, before she buckled, letting out a cry of pain.

“Don’t move,” River Ripple said quickly. “Your wounds are severe. Stay put; you’re losing a lot of blood.”

“I—I’m sorry.” The she-cat’s voice trembled. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

“Trespass?” River Ripple frowned. What was she talking about? “You’re not trespassing. This isn’t my land.”

She didn’t reply and only stared at him, trembling.

“Wait here,” River Ripple said, rising to his paws. She flinched and shrank back as if expecting him to hit her. “It’s okay, I’m only going to fetch some cobwebs.”

“Cobwebs?” Her brows furrowed.

“To staunch your wounds,” he said. “I’ll be back soon. Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, turning to spring into the undergrowth. Panic surged through him. What in the world had happened to her? With how bad her wounds looked, he would have thought a dog or a fox attacked her, but he hadn’t caught the scent of any predator. Sickness coiled in his stomach. Did another cat do that to her?

To his massive relief, River Ripple spotted a fallen log with moss blooming over its trunk at the edge of the clearing. Under its hollowed out base, he could see a thick wad of cobwebs growing. Without hesitating, River Ripple launched forward and quickly wrapped the thick wad around his paw. When he gathered as much as he could carry, he turned and limped back on three legs to where the she-cat was waiting for him.

She lay on the ground, her breathing short and uneven. Her eyes were slitted with pain.

“Here.” River Ripple nudged his squirrel toward her. “You can eat as I try to stop the bleeding.”

He unraveled the webs from his paw, trying to keep a clear head, even as the scent of her blood threatened to overwhelm him. His pelt prickled with uncertainty. Back in the park, he’d once gotten into a scuffle with a rogue when he’d gone to explore Twolegplace behind Arc’s back. His mentor had been less than pleased, but he’d treated River Ripple’s wounds with cobwebs. River Ripple remembered Arc explaining how it could help to stop bleeding. But that had been so long ago, and River Ripple had never healed another cat's wounds. Especially one as bad as this.

I have to do this, he thought, taking a deep breath. I can’t let her die.

But he noticed that she hadn’t moved to eat the squirrel. Her head lay limply on the ground. Alarm trilled through River Ripple.

“Hey.” He gently nudged her shoulder with his nose. “You need to eat.”

She let out a weak sound of protest.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered.

“You’ll die if I leave you,” he said, stunned.

“I don’t care,” she mumbled.

River Ripple tried to suppress his mounting worry. “Listen. I don’t know what happened or who did this to you, but you can trust me. I promise I won’t hurt you. My name is River Ripple.” He bundled up the wad of cobwebs. “What’s your name?”

She was silent for a couple of long heartbeats that River Ripple thought she would ignore him.

“Bumble,” she breathed.

“Bumble,” he repeated, tilting his head. “That’s a pretty name.”

He could see that she was on the verge of losing consciousness again. He had to get her to keep talking.

“I live on an island not far from here,” he said, carefully pressing the wad of cobwebs to the worst of her wounds; a long scarlet scratch along her flank. Bumble flinched, letting out a hiss of pain. He winced. “I’m sorry, this will sting a little. But I promise you’ll feel better after this. “

Bumble breathed out shakily. “You live . . . on an island?”

“Yes.” River Ripple began to apply the cobwebs to her shoulder wound. “It’s beautiful there. It’s surrounded entirely by water, and I fall asleep to the sound of the river every night. You’d love it there. Have you ever tasted fish?”

“Fish?”

“It’s the best source of prey there is. You haven’t lived if you’ve never had salmon before. Have you ever tried it?”

Bumble shook her head, but River Ripple was glad to see that she appeared more awake now.

“Well, in that case, you’d better come back with me,” he purred. “You clearly need to rest, anyway.” He nodded to the squirrel. “Try to eat some of that. You need to keep up your strength.”

She hesitated, but at his nod of encouragement, she slowly reached forward and took a small chunk from the squirrel’s flank. Bumble chewed slowly as if bracing herself for a horrible taste, but when she swallowed it, River Ripple saw her eyes brighten. Eagerly, she finished the rest of the squirrel in quick, ravenous bites as if she hadn’t eaten in moons. Watching her, River Ripple felt a tug of concern. What had happened for her to end up so wounded and starved?

When he finished tending to the rest of her wounds, his shoulders sagged in relief. Her condition was still critical, but he’d stopped the blood flow of the worst of the wounds. With a bit of rest and food on his island, he knew she would get better.

“Come on.” He rose to his paws, blinking down at her expectantly.

Bumble looked up at him warily. “Where?”

“To my island, of course. You can’t just stay here, can you?”

She looked so afraid that River Ripple’s heart ached with sympathy.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, adopting the soothing tone Arc used whenever he had to calm a frightened kit. “You can trust me, Bumble. You’ll be safe from any other cats on my island, and you’ll have enough food. You can rest there, and once you’re feeling better, you’ll be free to leave.”

Bumble shifted her paws uncertainly. “You live there . . . alone?”

“There’s another cat living with me,” he said. “Her name’s Night, but you don’t need to worry about her. Her mew’s worse than her scratch. She’s friendly once you get to know her.”

Bumble hesitated, regarding him with unease.

“Do you promise you won’t do anything to me?” she asked.

He held her gaze. “I swear on my life.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her yellow gaze searching, and she must have found something because she gave a tiny nod.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll come with you, River Ripple.”

—

“I said bring back a mouse,” Night hissed. “Not a whole cat!”

When River Ripple had led Bumble back to his island, letting her lean against his shoulder for support, he’d guided her back to his den. With only him and Night living on the island, there were no other dens or spare nests for her. But with how weak and wounded she was, he knew she needed his nest far more than he did. He could handle sleeping outside for a couple of days. He’d done it before as a park cat.

The moment Night had seen him with the tortoiseshell she-cat; she’d dragged him out of ear-shot and confronted him. He knew Night was slow to trust others, but he hadn’t thought she would take Bumble’s arrival this badly.

“I know,” River Ripple murmured, keeping his voice low. “But just look at her, Night. Do you really think I could have left her on her own like that?”

“Even so,” Night growled with a lash of her tail. “We don’t know this cat.”

“Does she look like she’s a threat?” River Ripple asked evenly.

“No,” Night admitted with a snort. “But it’s always been you and I living on this island. I don’t want you getting influenced by those mountain cats, and start forming a group like theirs.”

River Ripple let out a huff, half-amused, half-contemptuous.

“I don’t like the mountain cats anymore than you do,” he said. “You don’t have to worry. I’m only doing this because Bumble clearly needs help. And I’m not going to turn my back on those in need. You understand that, don’t you?”

Night hesitated before she gave a curt nod.

“But you gave her your den,” she pointed out. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“Outside, for now,” he responded. “Until I weave a new den for myself.”

Night let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Whatever. Do what you want. I’m going to my nest.”

With an irritated twitch of her tail, she turned and slunk back to where her nest lay beneath a fallen log. River Ripple watched her for a moment before bounding over to the prey-pile, snatching a salmon, and padding over his den. He stopped at the entrance.

“Bumble?” he called softly. “Can I come in?”

“There was a moment of silence before Bumble’s voice sounded.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

River Ripple stepped inside, laying down the salmon at the entrance of the den. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Bumble curled up in his nest. She looked small and frail; peering at him through wary eyes.

“I’ve brought you some prey,” he explained. “I know you just ate, but you’ll need to eat as much as you can if you want a quicker recovery.”

Bumble nodded, not responding.

“Don’t hesitate to take more fish from the prey-pile, if you want,” he added. “I’ll be outside if you need anything. Or you can ask Night.” He whisked his tail. “She’s the black-and-white she-cat you just saw. She can be grumpy, but she’ll help you with anything. You can trust her.”

Another nod.

“I’ll bring you some herbs later,” he murmured. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

When River Ripple left her and retreated back outside, he still couldn’t rid himself of the unease that wrapped around his heart like the webs of a spider. He didn’t know who had hurt Bumble so savagely. But with how meek and frightened she was, he doubted she would ever open up to him. Padding up to a loose patch of nettles near the fallen log where Night slept, River Ripple settled down, releasing a heavy sigh.

Bumble’s battered state reminded him of how cruel and merciless this land was.

It made him miss his old life at the park all the more.

Chapter Text

Bumble didn't remember when she had fallen asleep, but when she opened her eyes, she was confused to hear the gentle murmur of a river.

For a moment, she was bewildered as to where she was. A stone roof met her gaze and she could feel the warmth of a nest beneath her. But soon the memories flooded her mind—fleeing her housefolk in search of Turtle Tail, the moor cats refusing to help her, Clear Sky nearly beating her to death, River Ripple finding her and bringing her back to his island.

She bolted upright and instantly regretted it when pain flared through her muscles. She grimaced, glancing down. The cobwebs River Ripple had applied to her scratches were beginning to peel off, but she could see that the wounds had closed. Even so, her whole body still felt sore. She would have to take it easy for the next few days.

Warily, Bumble looked around. The walls of the den were lined with glistening shells and her own nest was adorned with pretty blue feathers.

Her nose twitched. Was this River Ripple’s den? Before, she’d been too exhausted to pay any attention, but now she could pick up on the loner’s scent. Had he given up his den to her? But then, where had he slept?

Curious to know, Bumble quickly groomed herself, carefully picking out the cobwebs, before she limped out of the den.

Outside, the sun had fully risen above the mountain’s peaks, tinging the sky in streaks of pink and orange. It was well past dawn. But when she looked around the island, she could see that it was empty. Neither River Ripple or Night were around.

It wasn’t long before anxiety wormed in her stomach. Had they left? Perhaps they realized there was no point in keeping a kittypet around with them. Her pelt prickled with uncertainty. She still hadn’t recovered from her wounds, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hunt in her condition. If River Ripple and Night really left her, then that meant she would have to find her own food. Otherwise she would starve.

She glanced at the river, her stomach already beginning to growl.

If they’d left her here, then she may as well try to catch something.

How hard could it be to catch a fish, anyway? She’d almost caught that mouse before Clear Sky had attacked her.

I’ve survived this far, Bumble thought. I won’t give up now.

She limped up to the river, watching warily as it gurgled over the stepping stones; its chatter filling her ears. Her pelt rippled uneasily. She’d never tried to catch fish before, and the current seemed too strong for her liking. But with the hunger gnawing at her belly and the soreness of her muscles, she knew she needed to eat soon if she wanted to get any better.

Bumble’s ears pricked when she glimpsed a silver fish darting near the edge of the river. Eagerly, she lashed out a paw, but she was too slow. Her paw splashed clumsily in the water, alerting the fish away.

“Mouse-dung,” she muttered beneath her breath.

But to her mounting frustration, her next attempts weren’t any better. The fish kept swimming lazily back to the same spot as though they were mocking her. When one of the bigger ones darted to the heart of the river, Bumble decided she’d had enough.

Gathering her courage, she waded into the river, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the water pulling at her fur.

The fish remained where it was, circling lazily.

Now! Bumble struck out her paw, her heart soaring when she hooked the fish out of the river. But it was slipperier than she’d expected. The fish slipped right between her claws, dropping back into the river with a plop and darting away, the other smaller fish following after it.

Her heart lurched when her paws skidded on the smooth surface of the riverbed, prompting her to lose her balance. The current pulled her downstream, thrusting her muzzle beneath water. Panic burst in her chest, and she thrashed wildly. Her head broke through the surface, but the river’s currents were stronger than her, and it pulled her downstream once more. Fear shrilled through her pelt as her lungs began to burn. I’m going to die!

Suddenly, teeth snagged at her scruff, pulling her away from the current.

Terror crashed over her, and she remembered Tom sinking his teeth into her pelt.

Blinded by fear, Bumble wildly lashed out a paw, shoving her attacker away. “Don’t touch me!”

There was a grunt of pain, and her attacker’s grip slackened. Bumble stumbled, her heart pounding in her chest, like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. She jerked her head up, her ears flattening. Had Tom found her? Had Clear Sky returned to finish off what he’d started?

But she realized it was only River Ripple. The silver-gray tom was standing there, wide-eyed, holding a paw to his nose where Bumble had scratched him. Bumble could see that blood was welling over his muzzle. Behind him, Night stood bristling, her expression one of mingled shock and fury.

“Fish-brain!” she snapped. “River Ripple was saving your sorry tail. You were nearly drowning!”

Bumble didn’t respond, breathing heavily, her heart still thudding in her chest.

“It’s okay, Night,” River Ripple said, licking a paw and drawing it over his bleeding nose, wincing. “I should’ve warned her. I’m sorry, Bumble. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Seriously?” Night rounded on him. “You’re apologizing to her? She was the one who attacked you like a crazy fur-ball!”

“I said it’s fine,” River Ripple said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Night let out a hiss of frustration, but didn’t press matters. She glared at Bumble accusingly.

“What were you even doing?” she growled. “You clearly don’t know how to swim.”

“I—I was trying to catch a fish,” Bumble stammered. “I thought I was stuck here.”

“Stuck here?” Night snorted. “What are you talking about?”

Bumble swallowed hard, her pelt beginning to grow hot with embarrassment at the misunderstanding.

“I thought you left me here,” she whispered.

To her surprise, River Ripple’s green eyes softened with sympathy.

“I’m really sorry, Bumble,” he said quietly. “It was tactless of me to leave without telling you. But you were sleeping, so I didn’t want to disturb you. Night and I had only gone out hunting. We would never leave. This island is our home.”

Bumble stared hard at the ground, her eyes growing hot. A hard lump formed in her throat.

“We brought back prey, if you’re hungry,” River Ripple murmured. “Come on, Night. Let’s leave her be.”

Night gave her one last withering glare before she followed after River Ripple, leaving her standing alone by the riverbed.

Bumble turned her back to them, biting her tongue so they wouldn’t hear her as she broke down.

—

“She’s crazy,” Night hissed furiously once they were out of earshot from Bumble. “You need to kick her out!”

“I’m not doing that,” River Ripple said firmly.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Night snapped, her temper flaring. “She attacked you after you saved her. She’s out of her mind, River Ripple.”

“No, she’s not.” River Ripple rubbed his nose from where Bumble had lashed out at him. “She’s traumatized.”

“Traumatized?” Night flicked her tail crossly. “From what?”

“I don’t know,” River Ripple sighed wearily. “But you saw her, Night. You saw her bruises and scratches and how starved she looked. Someone clearly hurt her, and it’s affected her badly. She probably thought I was trying to attack her when I pulled her out of the river.” He met her gaze solemnly. “Do you honestly think I would kick out a cat so vulnerable?”

Night hesitated, her anger shifting to uncertainty. “Well, no, but . . . this is all just so much to deal with.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” River Ripple said. “She clearly wants her space, so we’ll give her that. Who knows?” He added with a shrug. “Perhaps once she’s recovered her strength, she’ll want to leave.”

“I hope she does,” Night muttered.

“Either way, she needs our help,” River Ripple said, ignoring his friend’s comment. “And I’m not about to turn my back on a cat in need. That’s not how I do things.”

And that’s not how Arc raised me, he added privately to himself.

—

The next couple of days dragged on for Bumble.

After the incident, River Ripple and Night had begun to avoid her. River Ripple didn’t spend much time on the island—he always left for long periods of time throughout the day—so it was mostly Night who remained. But Bumble would catch the black-and-white she-cat glaring at her across the clearing. She knew Night still hadn’t forgiven her for accidentally scratching River Ripple.

Guilt snagged at Bumble’s heart. She honestly hadn’t meant to lash out at him, but her fear and anxiety had gotten the best of her. Though she longed to apologize to River Ripple, Bumble found that she couldn’t muster up the courage to go up to him. After what Tom and Clear Sky did to her, she’d developed a fear of being near toms. She’d only agreed to come with him to his island out of desperation.

She knew River Ripple was kind. She knew he meant no harm. After all, he was the only wild cat to have shown her an ounce of compassion.

But she could never stop herself from flinching whenever he came too close.

She could never control the pounding of her heart or the nagging anxiety that he was going to hit her if she stepped one foot out of place.

She guessed River Ripple must have sensed her fear because he stopped approaching her ever since. Eventually, it was Night who began delivering Bumble’s herbs, and leaving prey outside her den. The black-and-white she-cat may be unfriendly, but Bumble didn’t feel the same irrational anxiety she felt around River Ripple.

And she hated it. She hated what Tom’s abuse had done to her.

She wished she could go back to who she’d been; carefree, confident, and out-going.

But every time Bumble looked at her reflection in the river, she struggled to recognize the cat staring back at her.

—

When the last of Bumble’s wounds had fully healed, she realized with a sinking feeling that Clear Sky’s scratches had left scars on her pelt.

A long, thin scar starting from her shoulder snaked down to her flank; a permanent reminder of what he’d done to her. Each time Bumble saw the scar, her eyes would grow hot. She’d begun to avoid looking at it, carefully keeping her gaze elsewhere whenever she was grooming her pelt.

She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to remember any of it.

But the scar would always be there as a reminder.

—

Watching River Ripple and Night spend time together, Bumble couldn't help but be reminded of her own friendship with Turtle Tail.

With how close River Ripple and Night were, Bumble assumed they must have known each other for a long time. She even wondered if they were mates. But as she observed them longer, she realized there was never anything romantic between their interactions—just an unshakable bond. They left each morning to go hunting together, they always shared their prey, and they were almost always in deep conversation.

Yes, they were best friends, that much was evident.

And it only reminded her even more of the friendship she’d had with Turtle Tail.

Of the friendship she’d come to lose.

To her, Turtle Tail had been more than a best friend—she had been the sister she’d always longed for, but never had. Even after so many moons, Bumble remembered all their cherished time together; leading Turtle Tail through the winding paths of Twolegplace, introducing her to her Housefolk for the first time, comforting Turtle Tail when she’d opened up to her about Gray Wing dismissing her feelings.

And she remembered how everything fell apart when Tom showed up.

Their confrontation was still fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

“How could you keep this a secret from me, Bumble?” Turtle Tail had cried. “How? I thought we were friends!”

“We are friends,” Bumble protested. “But Turtle Tail, Tom was going to—”

“I don’t care about, Tom,” Turtle Tail snapped. “I care that you knew the Twolegs were going to take my kits from me, and you said nothing about it!” She took a step back from her, shaking her head slowly. “Gray Wing was right. I shouldn’t have trusted kittypets. I don’t know what I was thinking, leaving the moor to come live with you.”

Even now, her words still left Bumble breathless with hurt. Hot shame coursed through her pelt. She’d wanted to tell Turtle Tail right from the beginning. But Tom had bullied her into keeping quiet, and when Bumble had finally gathered enough courage to tell Turtle Tail the truth, he’d turned against her.

Was that why Turtle Tail had refused to help her? Because she was still resentful over Bumble keeping the secret from her? She still remembered her friend’s dismissive words when she’d come to her for help.

You’ve been a kittypet all your life. There’s no way you’d survive in the wild, hunting for your food.

Bumble’s throat tightened with emotion. She knew that. She’d nearly starved to death out in the wilderness. But she still couldn’t overcome her hurt over Turtle Tail’s dismissal of her. Turtle Tail knew what Tom was like. She’d seen Bumble’s scratches. She knew what Tom was doing to her. Her gut twisted. Had her friend never cared for her at all? Had she never wanted Bumble to join the moor cats?

She doesn’t need me anymore, Bumble thought, feeling a raw emptiness open up inside of her. She has Gray Wing now. Who needs a clumsy, useless kittypet like me?

Huddled alone in River Ripple’s den, Bumble had never felt lonelier than she did now.

—

When another quarter-moon on the island had passed, Bumble was relieved to find that the soreness of her muscles had eased. She could finally walk again without limping.

But her relief soon vanished to a gnawing anxiety when she realized she didn’t know what to do now.

Twolegplace still wasn’t safe. It would never be safe as long as Tom was there. And with Clear Sky constantly expanding his borders, she didn’t want to risk running into the vicious tom for a second time. The moor cats had already turned her away, so there was no point in even trying to seek out their refuge again.

That only left the island.

Bumble gazed out across the clearing to where River Ripple and Night were sharing a carp, deep in conversation.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably. Now that she’d recovered her strength, were they both hoping she would leave their island? Perhaps they didn’t want to be rude by asking her directly, and were hoping she’d leave by herself.

It made sense, after all.

There was no way River Ripple would want her here after she attacked him in his own home. And Night made it clear that she could hardly stand her.

She’d overstayed her welcome.

Feeling thoroughly depressed, Bumble moved to get up and slowly padded over to them. They both looked up at her as she halted in front of them.

Night eyed her warily, but River Ripple blinked at her warmly.

“Hi, Bumble,” he said. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to leave now,” she said quietly, dipping her head. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

River Ripple and Night exchanged glances.

“Leave?” River Ripple frowned. “Leave where?”

Bumble blinked, caught off guard. Didn’t he want her to go?

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shifting her paws. “Back to the wild, I guess.”

Night raised a brow, looking skeptical. “Do you even know how to hunt?”

Bumble dropped her gaze, embarrassed. “No,” she mumbled.

“A cat who can’t hunt can’t survive a day in the wild,” Night scoffed. “No wonder you looked half-starved when River Ripple found you. How did you survive so long as a rogue, anyway?”

“I’m not a rogue.” Bumble frowned, puzzled. “I used to be a kittypet, but I left.”

“A kittypet?” Night blinked in surprise. “What was a kittypet like you doing, wandering the wilderness?”

“It’s a long story,” Bumble muttered.

“Do you want us to help you get to Twolegplace, then?” River Ripple asked, rising to his paws.

“No!” Bumble jerked her head up to stare at him, wide-eyed with horror. “No, I can’t go back there. Please, don’t send me there.”

Both River Ripple and Night seemed taken aback by her outburst, and they exchanged a swift glance. There seemed to be something unspoken between them.

“Well, if you can’t hunt, then there’s no way you can go back to the wild,” Night sighed as she rose to her paws. “You’ll die out there.”

“We can teach you how to hunt,” River Ripple offered.

“Does that mean . . . I can stay?” Bumble asked hesitantly.

“Of course.” River Ripple’s ears flicked up in surprise. “Why else would I have brought you here?”

Bumble shifted her paws self-consciously. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering anyone,” River Ripple said gently. “I’m sorry if we made you feel that way, Bumble. But we sensed you were upset, so we wanted to give you a bit of space. Night has a point, however,” he added. “It’s dangerous for you to go back when you don’t know how to hunt. You can at least let us teach you how to catch fish.”

Night nodded. “It’s easier than stalking prey. It’ll be a good place to start for a kittypet.”

Bumble’s gaze flitted between them, feeling at a complete loss for words. After everything she’d endured, she’d come to assume all wild cats were hard-hearted and self-preserved. Not a single cat had shown her an ounce of compassion; not even Turtle Tail. But with Night’s expectant look and River Ripple’s warmth, Bumble suddenly felt overwhelmed with a flood of emotions. She had almost forgotten what kindness felt like.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You can thank us by catching fish and adding to the prey pile,” Night said bluntly.

“Night.” River Ripple’s voice was full of exasperation.

But when Bumble glanced at her, she saw that Night’s yellow gaze glinted with humor. Gratitude swelled in her chest; gratitude, then determination.

“I will,” she declared. “Don’t you worry, I’ll catch loads of fish before the next moon!”

—

It quickly turned out, however, that fishing was harder than she’d anticipated.

Unlike stalking prey, all Bumble had to do was patiently sit by the riverbed. She had to angle herself in a certain position so that her shadow wouldn’t fall over the river and alert the fish. It sounded simple enough, but she was never fast enough to hook a fish out of water. Each time she struck out her paw, the fish either darted away or slipped right between her claws, just like last time.

And each time she failed, the moor cats’ word jabbed at her like thorns.

There’s no place for a weak cat in the wild.

Another fail.

You’re soft and lazy. Your presence would put these cats in danger.

Anxiety seized her chest. She struck out her paw desperately, but the stupid fish ducked away, missing her claws by a hair.

Useless. Soft. Lazy.

“Let me show you again.” Night nudged her out of the way. “You need to keep still, and react a moment quicker than you usually would. And don’t let your impatience get the best of you. When catching fish, you don’t chase. You wait.”

Bumble watched, feeling hopeless, as Night sat by the riverbed with the stillness of a boulder. When another fish—Bumble thought it was called a trout—drifted within distance, Night lashed out her paw with lightning-swift speed, tossing it out of the river. It landed in a writhing heap on the riverbed, and she killed it with a swift bite to the spine.

“Do you want to try again?” Night asked.

“I have to, don’t I?” Bumble murmured.

But when she tried copying Night, she couldn’t bring herself to be as quick, and her claws weren’t sharp enough to hook the fish out of the water.

By now, her pelt was burning in mingled shame and humiliation.

“Don’t worry about it, Bumble,” River Ripple said. “Fishing takes time. You don’t need to get it in a day.”

“You’re a kittypet, anyway,” Night added. “It’ll take you some time to get used to hunting.”

But despite their reassuring words, Bumble couldn’t find any comfort in them. She hated feeling so useless, so incompetent. She hated that the moor cats were right about her.

She wanted to prove to River Ripple and Night that she could hunt. That she wasn’t useless or soft or lazy.

“One more time,” she insisted. “Let me do it one more time.”

River Ripple glanced up at the deepening twilight. “We could call it a day, and start again tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me,” Night agreed, stretching her jaws in a yawn. “I’m beat.”

“But I’m not tired,” Bumble protested. “I can keep going.”

“Well, I’m tired,” Night said dryly. “And I don’t want to supervise you in case you drown again.”

“You don’t need to get it right away, Bumble,” River Ripple added, more kindly. “We’ll keep practicing tomorrow.”

Though she longed to keep going, Bumble didn’t want to get on their nerves. Reluctantly, she gave a dip of her head.

“Okay,” she murmured.

And perhaps they were right. Perhaps all she needed was just a few more days of practice.

—

But things didn’t get any better for her over the next few days. No matter how much she spent her time practicing with River Ripple and Night, Bumble only managed to pluck out a tiny minnow. She would have felt proud that at least she’d caught something, but the minnow was thinner than a blade of grass and Bumble knew it wouldn’t feed anyone, let alone a kit. River Ripple was kind enough to congratulate her, but she knew she couldn’t contribute through hunting tiny minnows. She needed real prey.

And so, when night fell, Bumble snuck out of the island to practice fishing by herself. She wanted to surprise River Ripple and Night by returning to the island with a long, silver salmon dangling from her jaws.

If she survived this far, she could catch one stupid fish.

The moonlight reflected off of the river’s surface, and the song of crickets surrounded her. Before, Bumble would have felt afraid to be left alone in the dark, but after everything she’d endured, she’d gotten used to being out in the wild at night.

She kept her gaze trained on the surface, remembering Night’s advice. Don’t chase. Wait. Bumble unsheathed her claws, holding her breath, forcing herself to sit still. Beneath the moonlight, she could make out a silver fish swimming along lazily, unaware of her watching it closely.

React a moment quicker than you would.

Bumble struck out her paw, her claws digging deep into its flank. Her heart soared as she lifted the fish out of the river, but it was thrashing wildly on the tips of her claws. It wriggled free, and before Bumble could slam her paws down on its spine, it slithered back into the river, vanishing into the darkness.

“Fox-dung!” she snapped, not caring if she was scaring away the prey. “Why is this so hard?”

“Bumble?”

She spun around, her heart nearly bursting out of her chest, but she realized it was only River Ripple. He stood at the edge of the ferns, his silver pelt glimmering in the moonlight. He tilted his head, his green eyes glinting with curiosity.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Er . . . fishing,” she said. “Or at least, I’m trying to.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I need to get better.”

“There’s no need to lose sleep over it,” he said, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “It’s fine if you don’t get it right away. You have more than enough time to keep practicing.”

No, I don’t. If I keep failing, you and Night will realize I’m a useless kittypet and kick me out.

Instead, she managed a small smile. “Thanks, River Ripple. But I still want to practice.”

He regarded her for a long moment, seeming to guess what she was thinking.

"We would never kick you out, you know," he said softly. "Even if you never learn to fish, this island will still be your home. You don't need to worry about contributing—there are only three of us living here."

"I can't just keep taking food from you and Night without catching anything of my own," Bumble muttered. "It wouldn't sit right with me."

But more than that, she wanted to make it up to River Ripple. It wasn't just about learning how to fish, or proving she belonged here. River Ripple had saved her—he had treated her wounds, given her a place to stay, let her sleep in his den while he made his nest outside. He had helped her when everyone else had turned her away.

River Ripple didn't even know her, yet he'd shown her far more kindness than Turtle Tail had.

The thought struck her harder than she expected, and guilt twisted in her chest. She knew it wasn't fair to compare them. But she also didn't know if she could even consider Turtle Tail a friend anymore. There was too much bad blood between them now.

Her gaze drifted to the faint scar on his nose where from she'd scratched him. The knot of guilt in her chest hardened.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

River Ripple blinked. “What for?”

“For scratching you that day,” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Ah.” There was a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “I’d forgotten about that. Really, you don’t need to worry about it”

“I still shouldn’t have done it,” Bumble insisted. “I’m really sorry. I just panicked. I . . . I thought you were someone else.”

River Ripple’s gaze sharpened. “Someone else?”

Bumble looked away, unable to meet that penetrating green stare.

“It’s not important,” she muttered. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I should’ve never hurt you.”

“It’s all right,” he said gently. “I’m not angry, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Bumble looked up at him then. How could a wild cat possess such a gentle soul? After what happened with Tom and Clear Sky, Bumble had begun to assume that all toms were cruel and violent. But she didn’t think River Ripple could hurt a fly. For the first time, she felt her tension ease away, dissipating like mist beneath the morning sun. Her muscles relaxed. Warmth bloomed inside of her chest.

It took her a moment to recognize what she was feeling.

Trust.

Gazing into River Ripple’s emerald-green eyes, she knew with deep certainty that this was a tom she could trust. A tom she was safe around. A tom who wouldn’t lift a paw against her.

—

When Bumble finally caught her first fish after countless failed attempts, she nearly howled to the skies in joy.

But nothing could come close to the look of warm pride that River Ripple gave her.

“I knew you could do it,” he purred.

Bumble would catch a thousand more fish just to see that look again.

—

“Did you see the way I caught it?” Bumble bounced around Night, failing to contain her excitement. “It was huge!”

“Yes, yes, I was there.” Night rolled her eyes. “I saw the whole thing.”

“I bet you couldn’t make a catch like that,” Bumble said teasingly.

“Of course I can,” Night snorted. “I’ve been fishing far longer than you have.”

“I could still beat you, though,” Bumble said brightly.

Night’s eyes flew wide in amazement. “Are you challenging me to a fishing contest?”

“Maybe I am.” Bumble puffed out her chest, suddenly feeling bold.

“I’m not competing with a kittypet,” Night grumbled.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Bumble protested. “I’m no longer a kittypet. But it’s okay.” She shrugged. “I understand you’d be scared to lose.”

That managed to get on Night’s nerves.

“All right, fine,” Night snapped, springing to her paws. “Let’s have this stupid content if it means you’ll stop pestering me.”

—

Bumble may have lost the competition but it hardly mattered. Not when she’d caught three different fish; a salmon, a trout, and a carp. It thrilled her to see how much she’d improved in the span of a few days.

“I might just surpass you one day, you know,” she said cheerfully.

“In your dreams, fish-brain,” Night grumbled.

“Admit it.” Bumble beamed. “You know I’ve gotten better!”

Night only rolled her eyes. “Who knew you were this talkative?”

“Sorry,” Bumble said, though she couldn’t keep a purr of laughter from her voice. “I can’t help it.”

As she followed Night back to the island with their catch, Bumble only noticed then that there was a spring in her step.

—

“You’ve warmed up to her,” River Ripple noted absently.

Night didn’t look at him and kept her gaze trained on the river. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

River Ripple chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d spend that much time with her. And to agree to a fishing content, no less.”

“She wasn’t as annoying as I thought she’d be,” Night grunted. “I guess she’s okay.”

Coming from Night, this was a huge compliment.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he swallowed back a purr of amusement.

“What are you smiling about?” Night grumbled, shooting him a glare.

“Nothing,” he murmured, unable to stop his whiskers from twitching. “Just thinking.”

—

Over the next few days, Bumble had switched from fishing to hunting land prey.

And to her pleasant surprise, it was easier than fishing. With her collar gone and her strength recovered, she’d gotten the hang of padding softly and keeping her tail from waving in anticipation. She’d convinced Night and River Ripple to let her hunt by herself since she thought she might perform better without having someone else watching her progress. And so far, it was working in her favor. She'd managed to catch two mice and a vole, but now she was determined to catch bigger prey.

Bumble crouched low, her belly fur brushing the grass as she stalked after a chaffinch pulling worms out of the earth. Excitement tingled at her paws. She knew birds were hard to catch, but she wanted to impress River Ripple and Night when she strolled back into the island, casually carrying a bird. She pictured the look of pride in River Ripple's gaze, and Night's blatant disbelief. Her excitement surged, and she took a step closer to the unsuspecting bird.

But before she could pounce, the sound of voices carrying over the wind made her halt.

The chaffinch startled and let out an alarm call, taking off into the air.

Bumble let out a hiss of frustration and whipped her head around. Across the field, she could make out the figure of two cats padding from behind a clump of undergrowth.

“I’m so happy that you came back to us,” a deep voice purred. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“I knew I’d come back eventually,” a voice said warmly. “The moor will always be my home. And I couldn't live without you, either.”

The two cats padded from behind the ferns, stepping into view. Bumble stiffened as she recognized them at once. It was Gray Wing and Turtle Tail. They were padding so close that their pelts were brushing and their tails were entwined. Shock rippled through Bumble’s pelt, and she stood rigid, staring at them in disbelief.

At the same moment, Turtle Tail glanced in her direction. Upon seeing Bumble standing there, watching them, her green eyes flew wide with amazement. She came to an abrupt halt, her jaw falling open.

“Turtle Tail?” Gray Wing frowned. “What’s wro—”

He paused when he followed her gaze, noticing Bumble standing there. “Oh.”

“Bumble?” Turtle Tail took a step forward. “Is that you?”

Bumble opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her shock rendered her silent.

“It is you!” Turtle Tail cried, sprinting toward her. “Great stars, I don't believe it!”

She reached forwards to touch noses with her, but Bumble took a step back.

Turtle Tail froze, hurt flashing in her gaze. “Bumble? What’s wrong?”

By now, Gray Wing had padded up behind her, watching Bumble warily.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you went back to Twolegplace.”

Bumble bristled. Did he really think she would go back to Tom after everything he'd done to her?

“I didn’t go there,” she said quietly.

“Well, why are you back in the wild?” Gray Wing’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not thinking of joining us, are you?”

“No,” Bumble said, letting a cold edge creep into her voice. “I don't want anything to do with you moor cats.”

They both seemed taken aback by her sudden hostility.

“Gray Wing, you should get back to camp,” Turtle Tail said, glancing at him meaningfully. “Sparrow Fur, Owl Eyes, and Pebble Heart will be missing us. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Are you sure?” Gray Wing’s tail twitched worriedly.

“I’m sure. I need to talk with Bumble alone.”

Gray Wing hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave, but he gave a tiny nod. With another wary glance at Bumble, he turned and slunk back over the moortop.

Once he was gone, Turtle Tail turned to Bumble. Her green eyes glittered with worry.

“Bumble, what’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

The question was so incredulous that Bumble couldn’t help but laugh.

“Am I okay?” she repeated. “No, Turtle Tail, I’m not okay. You have no idea what I’ve been through this past moon.” The anger and hurt that she’d bottled up came rushing out of her. “You left me when I needed you most. You saw my scratches, and you knew what Tom was doing to me. You know what he’s like. But when I came to ask you for help, you turned me away!”

Turtle Tail looked utterly flummoxed, her gaze wandering over her sleek pelt. “But . . . but you look so much better. You even lost weight and your collar.”

“No thanks to you!” Bumble snapped.

“Bumble, none of this was my fault,” Turtle Tail retorted, anger flashing in her gaze. “Did you forget that you kept the secret about my kits from me?”

“I told you in the end, didn’t I? And I kept quiet because Tom threatened to hurt me, but I still told you because you’re my friend.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do to help you. You’re a kittypet. You wouldn’t be able to live in the wild.”

“Well, I do now.” Bumble lashed her tail. “So I guess you and your stupid moor cat friends were wrong.”

“Why are you being so nasty?” Turtle Tail snapped. “I was worried sick about you. I haven’t seen you in so long, but here you are, biting my head off!”

“Biting your head off?” Bumble repeated derisively. “I was the one who almost had my head bitten off by Clear Sky!”

“Clear Sky?” Turtle Tail stiffened, her anger forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

“I trespassed on his land by accident,” Bumble muttered. “He nearly killed me for it.”

It was then that Turtle Tail noticed the long scar snaking across her flank. Horror flooded her gaze.

“Wait, did he do that to you?” she demanded.

Bumble swallowed tightly and only managed a nod.

“That fox-heart!” Turtle Tail’s neck fur bristled aggressively. “What in the stars was he thinking, attacking a helpless kittypet? Bumble, I’m so sorry he hurt you.” She blinked at her sympathetically. “I’ll make sure to tell Gray Wing.”

“Gray Wing?” Bumble snorted. “What’s he going to do?”

“He might try to help.” Turtle Tail seemed to brighten at the mention of the gray tom. “He and I are mates now, you know. He’s helping me raise my kits.”

Bumble’s jaw tightened, bitterness welling in her throat. “Yeah, well, while you were busy falling in love with a tom who ignored you for moons, I was starving and nearly beaten to death because of your mate’s brother.”

“That’s not Gray Wing’s fault!” Turtle Tail retorted. “He’s just as upset with Clear Sky as the rest of us.”

“I don’t care,” Bumble hissed. “I nearly died out there because of you mountain cats. I wish you’d never come here!”

Turtle Tail took a deep breath, evidently trying to regain her composure.

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to fight with you, Bumble. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry I didn’t help you, but I really didn’t know what I could do. Even if I wanted you to join, I knew Tall Shadow would never agree.” She peered at her hopefully. “But since you’ve adjusted to the wild, why don’t you come back with us? Wind Runner and Gorse Fur just joined our group. I’m sure Tall Shadow would agree to let you in, too. And this time, I’ll convince her!”

Bumble’s brows raised in disbelief. “You want me to join the moor cats?”

“Why not?” Turtle Tail leaned forward eagerly. “We could finally be together again. And this time, Tom won’t be there to ruin things for us. We would be safe, Bumble. How about it?”

We could finally be together again. As hurt and betrayed as she felt, Bumble couldn’t deny that she missed Turtle Tail. She hadn’t forgotten all the time they'd spent together; exploring Twolegplace, playing with her Housefolk's kits, staying up all night talking about anything and everything. Her heart ached with a sudden, sharp longing. She really missed her friend.

But she also hadn’t forgotten how quick Turtle Tail had been to deny her help.

And she hadn’t forgotten the long nights of wandering the wilderness on her own; cold, hungry, and frightened out of her mind. She didn’t think she could ever forget those nights. She still had the scars left by Clear Sky to remember.

And it wasn’t Turtle Tail who had saved her.

It was River Ripple.

Bumble was surprised by the fierce surge of loyalty that she felt for the silver tom. Did Turtle Tail really expect her to purr sweetly and come with her to the moor, living amongst the same cats who had mocked her for her kittypet background? The same cats who had denied her refuge when she desperately needed it?

River Ripple hadn’t known her at all, yet he’d opened up his home to her when she needed it most.

He’d let her stay on his island, even when she wrongfully scratched him.

He was the reason she knew how to hunt and fish.

He was the reason she was alive right now.

“No.” Bumble was surprised at how steady her voice was.

Turtle Tail frowned, puzzled. “No?”

“No, I’m not coming with you,” Bumble growled.

“But why?” Turtle Tail demanded. “If you’re no longer a kittypet, then where are you living now?”

“On the island,” Bumble said. “With River Ripple.”

“River Ripple?” Turtle Tail blinked. “That weird loner who swims and eats fish?”

“He’s not weird,” Bumble snapped, instantly jumping to his defense.

Turtle Tail flinched, and Bumble felt a stab of guilt.

“He’s not weird,” she said again, this time calmly. “He’s my friend.”

Hurt glittered in Turtle Tail’s green eyes. "I’m your friend, too.”

Bumble shrugged, looking away. “Yeah, well, you have a weird way of showing it.”

Turtle Tail stared at her as if Bumble had raked her with her claws.

“Bumble, I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking a step forward. “Please forgive me. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you; you’re my best friend!”

But Bumble backed away, avoiding her gaze.

“Let’s just go our separate ways from now on, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Turtle Tail’s eyes flew wide in alarm.

“You stay on the moor with Gray Wing,” Bumble said. “I’ll stay on the island with River Ripple.”

Turtle Tail hesitated. “But we can . . . we can still visit each other, right? We’re still friends?”

“Turtle Tail, I’m sorry,” Bumble sighed, her shoulders sagging. “But I really can’t just pretend like nothing happened between us. You have no idea what it was like for me out there. Had River Ripple not found me in time, I would have died from the wounds Clear Sky gave me. I’m sorry, but . . . but I just need a bit of space.”

“For how long?” Turtle Tail asked.

“I don’t know,” Bumble said wearily.

Turtle Tail regarded her for a long moment, her green eyes shimmering with sorrow.

“Okay,” she whispered. “A bit of space. That’s fine.”

—

When Bumble made it back to the island, River Ripple took one glance at her and seemed to guess she was in a foul mood.

He nodded to the salmon he was eating by his nest. “Hungry?”

“Thanks,” Bumble sighed as she took her place next to him, even though she wasn’t hungry.

She stared at her paws, feeling worn out and confused. She hadn’t thought she would run into Turtle Tail ever again. But now that she had, Bumble wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She wasn’t even sure whether she made the right choice in turning down Turtle Tail’s offer to come live with her on the moor. A part of her would always miss Turtle Tail. But a bigger part of her couldn’t bring herself to forgive Turtle Tail for her betrayal.

It was only then that she noticed River Ripple watching her curiously.

“You’re upset,” he noted.

Bumble swallowed tightly. “It’s Turtle Tail.”

“Turtle Tail?”

“She’s one of the moor cats. She’s my friend. Or at least . . . she used to be.”

River Ripple said nothing, though his ears pricked with interest.

“She offered for me to come live with her on the moor,” Bumble said. “But I refused.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Bumble paused as she searched for the right words. “Because I wanted to stay here.”

Amusement sparkled in River Ripple’s green eyes. “With me and Night?”

“Yes.” Her ears twitched self-consciously, but she pushed on. “You and Night, you actually want me here. You saved my life and taught me so much. You gave me a chance when no one else did. For once, I feel like I actually belong somewhere.” She huffed out a long sigh. “Turtle Tail and I . . . a lot that happened between us and I don’t know if I can call her my friend anymore. I really miss her, but I don’t think things can go back to how they were. That’s why I refused to come with her.”

River Ripple blinked at her warmly. “Well, whatever you decide to do, just know that you’ll always have a home here."

“I know,” Bumble purred, gratitude blossoming in her chest. “Thank you, River Ripple.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both of them watching the river as it gently lapped over the stepping stones. A question she’d been meaning to ask River Ripple nagged at the back of her mind, until she could no longer hold it in.

"What made you help a kittypet like me, anyway?" Bumble asked, breaking the silence between them. "Weren't you afraid I wouldn't be able to contribute?"

River Ripple gave her a sidelong glance. "That's the least of my concerns, Bumble. I would never turn my back on a cat in need."

"Even though there's no place for a weak cat in the wild?" Bumble muttered, repeating Wind's words.

"Being wild is not the same as being savage," River Ripple murmured. "And it would have been savage of me to leave you alone when I found you that day."

“So it really never bothered you?” Bumble asked. “That I’m a kittypet? It even seemed to bother Night at first.”

To her surprise, River Ripple let out a huff of amusement.

“We’re always so concerned with where someone comes from that we forget they’re just cats like us,” he said. “Rogues, kittypets, mountain cats—they’re all just looking to survive in their own way.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we realized that more, there wouldn’t be so much violence in this land.”

Bumble studied him for a long moment, curiosity tugging at her belly. "You're really different from most rogues."

River Ripple chuckled. “That’s because I was never a rogue.”

“What?” Bumble blinked. “You were a kittypet like me, too?”

“No,” he said, laughing softly. “I didn’t always live on this island. Nor did I live on this land.” He gazed into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. “I used to live in a park with other cats in a different Twolegplace, far from here. We were known as the Cats of the Park. We slept together, shared all the food we had, and always looked after one another. They were like a family to me.”

Bumble frowned. “So why did you leave?”

“I didn’t want to.” River Ripple let out a bone-weary sigh. “The park was destroyed by Twoleg monsters, and our group scattered. Some fled. Some were captured by Twolegs. In the chaos, I fell over the bridge into the river and it carried me to this land. I’ve been living here ever since.”

Listening to this, Bumble’s eyes widened in dismay. She had always assumed River Ripple was born a loner. She couldn’t imagine watching her home be destroyed by monsters and having all the cats she’d known her whole life be taken away from her. In a single day, River Ripple had lost his home, his cats, and had been stranded in an entirely different land surrounded by hostile rogues. It only dawned on her then how little she knew about River Ripple. Her gut twisted with guilt. He'd invited her to his home and healed her wounds, yet she hadn't bothered getting to know him at all. She'd been too occupied by her own problems.

Well, Bumble was determined to change that.

“That must have felt lonely,” she murmured. “Did you ever try going back?”

“There’s no longer a home waiting for me there,” he said quietly. “And my place is beside the river now.”

“Is Night from the park, too?”

“No, she was always a loner. She’s the first cat I befriended since I came here, and we’ve been living on the island together ever since.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Bumble said, brushing her tail sympathetically against his shoulder. “It’s weird how some Twolegs are so cruel, yet some are so kind.”

“Cats work in the same way.” River Ripple licked a paw and drew it over his whiskers.

That they did. Bumble’s encounter with Tom, with Clear Sky, and with the moor cats had convinced her that all toms were violent and all wild cats were cruel. But River Ripple and Night proved that there were still good cats out there. She felt a flicker of hope. For the first time, she didn’t feel as alone and helpless as she did the night she left her Twolegplace.

As Bumble looked around the island, taking in the weeping willow tree, the soothing chatter of the river, and the reeds swaying gently in the breeze, she felt warmth bloom inside of her chest. A quiet purr rumbled in her throat. She knew a part of her would always miss her housefolk. She knew she would always miss the familiarity of Twolegplace.

But right now, sitting with River Ripple, Bumble felt that she had found a real home at last.