SUNFIRE

They moved by the light of the moon, along fences and the narrow lanes between Twoleg nests, bounding from shadow to shadow. The stench of Twoleg carrion was almost overwhelming to Sunfire, flooding his senses with sour straw and woodsmoke, horse stench, chicken dirt, and the distant baying of wild dogs.

The catmint garden was far from LeafClan territory. Far from any Clan's territory. The nests here were larger, grander, green spaces shielded by hedges sculpted into strange shapes and crawling with ivy. Here and there were springs, the water weeping ceaselessly from the stone itself. More importantly, the stench was not so horrible here.

Nimble scouted ahead, with Socks and Sunfire taking up the rear. Goosebelly, Petey, and Sneezy chuckled at some private joke among themselves, running from shadow to shadow.

The rogue in the lead held up his tail, tasting the air.

"This is the place," Nimble said with a hiss, jerking his head in the direction of a tall hedgerow. "And look, they come. There's two of them now. You, all you, stay back."

Two kittypets, their necks bound in leather collars, bells tinkling as they started to squeeze through a gap in the hedge. The warriors and rogues pressed themselves against the smooth stone beneath their pads, and the flea-brains didn't even seem to scent them.

It was a wonder they could even catch any baby sparrows like that.

Nimble crept forward while the rest remained concealed in the shadows, trotting out after the pair of kittypets.

"Good evening, good neighbors," Nimble rasped in greeting. The kittypets turned with an eye of suspicion, and Sunfire couldn't blame them for that. Their pelts were soft, well-groomed, carrying pudge in their bellies and thighs, like plump rabbits. By comparison, Nimble was crowfood trampled on the Horsepath, a ragged and scrawny scrap of common brown tabby fur.

"Are we neighbors?" the first kittypet asked, leaning away from the rogue."Where do your housefolk live?"

"Well, they're new to the area, and I'm not sure I've found my way around," Nimble said with a flick of his tail. "Where are you headed at this time of night? Good hunting?"

"That's our business," the second kittypet sniffed. "Somewhere that's invitation only, sorry."

"No collar, no entry. Those are the rules." The first kittypet looked Nimble up and down, whiskers tense. "Your housefolk should really get you a collar. And feed you more. You must be a barn cat, and this place is only for house cats."

Without another word, they both went dipping into the gap in the hedge, leaving Nimble staring after them. Then after a long moment, his yellow-green eyes flashed back in the direction of the rogues, gesturing them out of hiding with a flick of his tail.

Barn cat, huh? That was polite, to say the least. Nimble would be moving up in the world to be considered a barn cat, just like the rest of their assorted crew. Their not quite Clan, out on a raid.

"There's a shack on the other side of this garden; peeks right over." The foreign word 'shack' rang harsh in his ears, but Sunfire knew it for some kind of small Twoleg den. "Get up there, stay hidden, observe, and wait for my signal."

✶⊶⊷⊷❍⊶⊶⊷✶

The other side of the garden sounded like a hop away in his mind. But this particular garden stretched like a patch of lost LeafClan hunting ground, green and floral scents among the Twolegplace stench, filthy stone, and mangled timber.

They skirted along the length of the hedge, around and around, but not without tripping over each other's tails. Quite literally. Socks kept nipping at Goosebelly's tail tip, and then swerving away when he snapped his head back, playing the innocent.

"Socks, you egg-hatched water rat," Goosebelly hissed. "I'll bite off your tail next time you try that!"

"Quiet, Goosebelly," Sunfire mewed, stifling amusement. "Your yowling will alert the kittypets."

"Yes, Gooseguts, you're imagining things!" Socks chimed.

"I'm accursed to break the warrior code in your company," Goosebelly grumbled under his breath, and still they waddled on.

Soon enough, there was that shack; a stunted, ramshackle nest with a sloped roof. They scrabbled up the side, one by one, peeking their heads up over the hedge and staring over the catmint garden.

It wasn't like any patch of wood he'd ever seen. There was a wide swath of manicured grass, flowers in every color and shade, some he didn't even have a name for, rows of fruit trees. A grand, stately Twoleg nest of square stones leered over it all, dominating the sky.

The kittypets shared tongues in the moonlight, some in leather collars with chiming bells, some with simple ribbons tied in bows around their necks. Sunfire couldn't help but stare at some of them, pelts in distinct patterns he'd never seen back in the forest.

Their voices carried even up to the shack roof. A warrior sentry might have spotted them up there, but these kittypets didn't even notice Sneezy's stifled sneezing. "Sorry," he whispered with a sniff each time, usually followed by two or three more sneezes in quick succession.

"The Wagon's over the chimney, and Tybalt's still not here," one of them complained, lounging in the grass.

Wagon? Chimney? Sunfire glanced at the other cats, perplexed, searching their expressions for answers. Goosebelly flicked his tail up toward Silverpelt.

"Kittypets draw shapes out of the stars," Goosebelly explained. "The seven stars with the tail pointed north—that's what they call the Wagon. Twolegs hitch them to their horses."

"Are you telling me you've never seen a wagon, Mister Sunshine?" Socks asked with a twitch of his whiskers. Sunfire dismissed him with a flick of his tail.

Did kittypets have their own StarClan, he wondered? Or rogues? He realized he'd never asked. Maybe every cat in every place had their own nursery tales, explaining where cats went in the next life. If they went anywhere.

"With the new slop his housefolk have been putting out, it's any wonder he can still fit through the hedge," another kittypet mewed with a note of resignation. "This whole street's gone upside down since Robin's housefolk moved away. The new folk that live there let their garden go to the weeds."

"I heard they threw a rock at Greymalkin when she was watering their flowers!"

"A house cat can't even peacefully make dirt in their own neighborhood anymore."

"Ah, here comes Tybalt!" And on cue, another plump shape slipped through the gap in the hedge with middling difficulty, waddling to the gathering of kittypets.

The sound of more claws scraping up the side of the shack made them all turn. Nimble crept up onto the shack roof beside them, eyes glowing in anticipation.

"This is the lot," the rogue hissed. "Wait 'til first birdsong. Then we hit the pampered pigeons."

They stayed flat on the shack roof, watching, waiting. The kittypets did more resting and idle gossip than hunting, until they started rolling in the catmint patches. In a few heartbeats, they seemed to spring alive, suddenly zipping across the grass with fresh bursts of energy.

It was still too dark for sparrows. They never came out until first light, and any LeafClan warrior could have guessed that. But the wrens and warblers were the first to wake in the pre-dawn gloom, chirping from the fruit trees.

Just as promised, the birds came flitting down to the edge of one of those strange stone springs, hopping and fanning their wings among the shallow pool that formed at its base. Not just one, but soon half a dozen.

That's when the kittypets struck. For most of them being grown cats, they had worse form and posture than any LeafClan apprentice with one day's training under the Father's Oak. But still, sure enough, they came away with a small pile of fresh-kill by the end.

"Will you eat yours, Tom Tildrum?" one of the kittypets asked with a triumphant purr.

"Ew! No, I hate the feathers. I'm going to bring this to my housefolk. They're going to be so proud of me."

Nimble and the other rogues were already snickering among themselves. "There's enough bird for all of us."

Sunfire waved his tail. "You should jump in from the shack. Socks and I can go around and guard the gap in the hedge. If they escape from you, then they'll run straight into us."

"Wonderfully conceived, Sunfire," Goosebelly purred.

"How many are there?" Petey asked hesitantly, squinting down into the moonlight.

"Some ten," Nimble answered.

Goosebelly seemed less certain now. "Well, won't they rob us?"

"What, a LeafClan warrior too mouse-hearted to fight kittypets?" Sunfire taunted with a prod.

He bristled ever so slightly. "Well, I'm no Lionpelt, but I'm no mouse-heart either."

"We leave that to the proof," Sunfire mewed, exchanging a quick glance with Socks, who returned a knowing blink of his eyes.

"Farewell, Mister Nimble, Mister Petey, Mister Sneezy, Old Gooseguts—and stand fast," Socks said, leaping down from the shack and back the way they came, skirting along the length of the hedge.

"Oh, I should box that Socks over the head," he heard Goosebelly groan, but Sunfire was already tailing him.

Now for their grand plan.

✶⊶⊷⊷❍⊶⊶⊷✶

"If this is horse or Twoleg dirt, I'm going to rip your pelt off."

"It's mud," Socks insisted, his white paws and belly smeared in the stuff now. "But it's better if you don't think about it that hard."

In just a few heartbeat's transformation, they were both splotched brown with filth, their pelts heavy with the scent of tansy and lavender.

Now, they just waited for the signal, peering through the gap in the hedge. The kittypets were lounging in a loose circle around their fresh-kill pile, chattering about anything and nothing without a care in the world.

He couldn't help but feel a tinge of spite. Or maybe it was envy. Their lives seemed so... carefree. Easy. There was no duty or rank or warrior code here, no clanmates except the friends you chose.

That's when the rogues leapt down from the shack roof on the opposite end of the garden, Goosebelly unleashing a practiced warrior's battle-cry that instantly made every kittypet bolt to their paws.

"Stand and deliver!" Sneezy spat.

"Claw all their throats!" Goosebelly roared. "Mousefodder! I want their collars for my nest! Fleece their pelts!"

"Oh, not my collar!" one kittypet shrieked.

"Strays! Street cats! We're undone!" another cried.

"Gorbellied kittypets, are you undone?" Goosebelly laughed, voice booming as he gave a heavy swipe in a kittypet's direction. They were at least a tail-length away from the warrior's claws, but they still turned tail and fled the other way.

Straight for Socks and Sunfire, waiting on the other side. But they made no move as the first kittypet flashed past them, and then another, and another, until the kittypets were tumbling over each other and clawing at each other's haunches in their desperation to flee.

Goosebelly gave a warrior's yowl to the stars as the last of their kittypet marks disappeared from the garden, leaving the prey in a pile.

"Now this will be an argument for a day, laughter for a moon, and a good jest forever," Sunfire purred, unsheathing his claws.

"Come, let's share the spoils," Goosebelly purred over their prize. "No more valor in them than a wild duck."

Without waiting for Socks or Sunfire, Goosebelly and the rogues dove into the fresh-kill pile, but he wasn't about to let them have so much as a swallow.

Sunfire and Socks launched themselves out from the hedge, streaking over the grass with ferocious yowls.

"Your prey or your life!" Sunfire growled in a voice twice as deep as his own, bushing up his fur to seem twice his normal size. He pounced for Goosebelly without a moment's hesitation, toppling the pale gray warrior to the grass as he let out a shrill, piteous mewl.

The rogues never stopped to fight back. They scattered across the garden in separate directions, clambering for safety. Goosebelly gave one swipe, two, and as soon as he saw himself outnumbered, he turned his tail with another shriek, forcing himself through the same tiny gap in the hedge the kittypets had squeezed out of.

In a heartbeat, it was over.

Socks and Sunfire broke into laughter, settling down in front of the fresh-kill pile. Some six or seven small birds, a treasure trove for any hunting patrol back in the forest. All to themselves.

"Got with much ease," Sunfire purred. "Goosebelly looked like he was about to jump out of his fur. I'm not sure I've ever seen him run that fast."

If it weren't for laughing, he might've pitied him. But who couldn't help but laugh? Socks made it hard not to, short of breath as the laughter spilled out.

"Old Gooseguts howled like he pinched his tail in a door!" Socks managed between convulsions.

Sunfire's giggles died down just enough to ask, voice serious now, "What's a door?"