“That’s unusual,” he began. “Why…?”

The brown tabby she-cat paid no attention to him. “This way,” she mewed briskly. “Since you’re here, you may as well meet the others.”

She led the way through an archway into a larger den. Light streamed into it from a long slit in the wall. As Lionblaze padded hesitantly forward, the smell of cats grew overpoweringly strong; it was almost like coming back into the camp after a patrol in the forest. Hollyleaf kept close to him, their pelts brushing, while Brambleclaw and Brackenfur stayed on the outside of the group. Lionblaze knew they were ready to protect the younger cats if they needed to. And so am I. If we have to fight our way out, I’m ready.

Brambleclaw signaled for his patrol to halt in the center of the den. A broad-shouldered gray tom sat on a shallow ledge just below the gap in the wall, while a she-cat with a flecked brown pelt was curled up on something like a soft boulder in bright Twoleg colors. Four kits suckled at her belly. On the other side of the den, another cat was barely visible as he peered out from underneath some wooden Twoleg thing.

Lionblaze caught his breath as he recognized the black-and-white tom sitting on top of another soft-looking boulder. He was the cat they had met the night before, who had run away from them.

“I’m Jingo,” the tabby she-cat announced, before Lionblaze could speak. “Over there is Hussar”—she waved her tail at the gray tom sitting on the ledge—“and the queen with kits is Speckle.”

“Hi, there,” Hussar meowed, with a lazy wave of his tail. Speckle just twitched her ears; she looked wary, as if she was afraid the newcomers might harm her kits.

“Over there’s Pod,” the tabby she-cat went on. The cat underneath the wooden structure blinked at them. “Come out, Pod, no cat is going to hurt you. And I think you’ve already met Fritz.”

As she finished speaking, she leaped up onto the squashy boulder beside the black-and-white tom. He stared at the Clan cats, wide-eyed, and didn’t speak.

Brambleclaw stepped forward. “Who did you think we were?” he asked Fritz. When the tom didn’t reply, he turned to Jingo. “When we met him last night he seemed to think we were connected with another cat, one who talked to you but ended up causing you trouble. Do you know who that was?”

“We don’t trust strangers around here anymore.” Jingo’s voice was solemn. “Not since Sol.”

Lionblaze felt a jolt in his belly. We were right! Sol has been here!

“Sol?” Brackenfur’s neck fur rippled. “You know him, then?”

Jingo nodded. “He came here last leaf-bare, but no cat knows where from. He lived on the edge of Twolegplace for a while, then when the weather turned colder he moved into this abandoned Twoleg nest and invited some other cats without housefolk to join him.”

“I was one of the first.” Pod emerged from underneath the wooden thing, revealing himself to be a scrawny brown tom, his muzzle gray with age. “Speckle and Fritz came with me.”