Captain Whisker Blackpaw's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Captain Whisker Blackpaw crouched on the wet dock and sniffed a coil of rope. The catnip smell was fading. Someone had stolen his whole cargo of rare Moroccan catnip two nights back, and now the trail was going cold. He meant to catch the thief, take back his bales, and drown the wretch in the deep water. But the sea kept no footprints. Every hour he lost the scent grew weaker, and the port grew louder with fresh gossip. A red-scarfed cat stumbled out of the provisions outpost, arms full of dried fish. Blackpaw knew the face. Buccaneer Bob sailed on Black Tom's crew, and he could never keep a secret when his purse was empty. Blackpaw stepped into his path. "Bob," he said. "Your captain's been mighty calm lately. Folks say he lies about grinning like a kitten in cream." Bob's ears flattened. He tried to slide past. "I don't know nothing, Captain." Blackpaw pressed a gold coin against the fish basket. Bob's eyes followed it. "One question," Blackpaw said. "Where's Black Tom hiding what he took?" Bob licked his lips. He glanced left, then right. "Tom's not on his ship," he whispered. "He's ashore. There's a hatch under the palm fronds, past the far end of the beach. He goes there every night and comes back purring." He snatched the coin and ran. Blackpaw followed the shoreline until the crowds thinned. Under a loose heap of palm leaves he found a wooden cellar hatch. He pushed the fronds aside and lifted the door. Cool air rose up, thick with the sweet green smell he'd been chasing. His whiskers twitched. His catnip. He climbed down. Bales sat stacked in the dark, canvas wrapped, each marked in ink. He recognized his own crooked handwriting on the labels. He pressed a paw to the nearest bundle and let out a slow breath. He had found it. Then a match flared behind him. Black Tom sat on a barrel in the corner, yellow eyes bright, sword across his knees. He had been waiting the whole time. He smiled the lazy smile the whole port had gossiped about. "You're slower than I hoped, Blackpaw," Tom said. "Bob sold you the door. I paid him to." Blackpaw drew his blade. But Tom only laughed and knocked over the lantern. Flame caught the dry catnip at once. Fire raced up the bales in a green rush of smoke. Heat slammed the cellar. Tom bolted up the ladder and slammed the hatch shut above them. Blackpaw heard a heavy bar drop into place. Smoke filled the little room fast. The cargo he'd hunted for two days was burning around him. The thief was gone, laughing, and the only way out was locked. Blackpaw pressed his back to the ladder and sucked one last clear breath. He had found his catnip. Now he had to escape it.