A Forest Divided

by Erin Hunter

  “Gray Wing?” Pebble Heart turned sharply.

  Panic whirled in Gray Wing’s mind. He sank onto his belly, stretching his neck as he gasped for breath. The world began to spin around him. Pine needles swished beside his ear, and he felt Pebble Heart’s paws pummeling his flank. He closed his eyes and tried to let go of the fear that gripped him. I’ll be okay. Slowly he began to relax as Pebble Heart worked his way along his side, kneading his chest and then his back until Gray Wing’s breathing eased.

  “Thank you,” Gray Wing rasped.

  Pebble Heart turned to leave. “I’ll bring you some coltsfoot.”

  “Wait!” Gray Wing heaved himself to his paws. “I can come with you.” He didn’t want to seem as helpless as prey.

  “Your breathing’s been bad since we came here.” Pebble Heart gazed at him gravely. “I think you should eat coltsfoot each morning.”

  “Do you have enough to spare?” A long leaf-bare stretched ahead. “What if another cat needs some?”

  “I’ve picked plenty, and there are still some dried leaves back in the hollow.” Pebble Heart pressed his shoulder to Gray Wing’s. “Are you ready?”

  Gray Wing nodded and padded forward, trying not to lean too heavily on the young tom. He’s taking care of me now. It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d rescued Pebble Heart and his littermates from Twolegplace. Yet it was hard to let go of the protectiveness he felt for Turtle Tail’s kit. Should he warn him about Fern? And about Slash, who’d sent her to spy? Not yet. There’d been no sign of Fern since they arrived; perhaps the rogue had never come to the pine forest. Gray Wing hoped that she had used her chance to escape Slash and run—far away from here.

  “You go first.” Pebble Heart stopped in front of the bramble tunnel that led into camp.

  Gray Wing ducked and padded through.

  Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak sat near the far end of the clearing, their heads bowed in quiet conversation. Holly was rearranging her nest’s moss lining while the kits tumbled in the pine needles behind her. Mud Paws and Mouse Ear were sharing tongues in the shadow of the camp wall.

  “Hi, Gray Wing!” Mouse Ear looked up. “Did you catch anything?”

  My catch! He’d left it behind. “A lizard,” he croaked.

  Mouse Ear hopped up and padded closer, stopping beside Gray Wing. “Can cats eat lizards?”

  “River Ripple does,” Gray Wing told him.

  Mouse Ear wrinkled his nose. “I guess we can’t be choosy.” He tasted the air. “Where is it?”

  “I left it outside camp.”

  Dew Nose turned from her game. “Can we go and get it?” She glanced excitedly at Eagle Feather and Storm Pelt.

  Holly straightened. “Only if Mouse Ear goes with you.” She looked across the clearing to the tabby tom. “Is that okay?”

  Mouse Ear purred. “Of course.” He swished his tail happily as the kits charged toward him. “Which one of you is going to carry it back?”

  “Me!” Dew Nose pelted for the bramble tunnel.

  Eagle Feather was on her tail. “Not if I find it first.”

  Mouse Ear waited for Storm Pelt to catch up. “While those two are racing around,” he whispered to the solemn young kit, “we’ll find it, and you can carry it home.”

  Storm Pelt’s whiskers twitched and he trotted toward the camp entrance.

  “Don’t let them out of your sight!” Holly called.

  Mouse Ear flicked his tail as he ducked into the tunnel. “I won’t.”

  Pebble Heart was already at the far side of the clearing, squeezing beneath the brambles. He wriggled out a moment later, a soft green leaf hanging from his jaws.

  He hurried back to Gray Wing and dropped it onto the damp ground. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve felt better.” The pain was gone but Gray Wing’s chest was still tight. He was relieved to see the coltsfoot. Crouching, he began to chew on the leaf stalk, its familiar bitter tang bursting over his tongue.

  “I’ll bring one to your nest every morning,” Pebble Heart promised.

  “I’ll come and get it,” said Gray Wing, with a jerk of his nose. Irritation prickled in his belly. He knew Pebble Heart was only trying to help, but he hated being treated like an invalid. Was this how Jagged Peak felt when the cats made allowances for his lameness?

  Pebble Heart shrugged. “Okay.”

  Gray Wing chewed another mouthful of coltsfoot and, feeling his chest loosen, sat up. He nodded toward the small hole under the bramble that Pebble Heart had gotten the leaf from. Beside it was Pebble Heart’s nest, hardly more than a heap of pine twigs lined with moss. “You must be cold sleeping there,” he observed. “We should build you a den.”

  “I’m no colder than any other cat.” Pebble Heart pointed his muzzle toward the nests dotted around the edge of the clearing, twig piles like his own. Gray Wing’s lay beside Tall Shadow’s, a few tail-lengths from Mud Paws’s and Mouse Ear’s. Holly and Jagged Peak had made a large nest on the other side of the clearing where they could wrap themselves around their kits and keep them warm.

  Gray Wing narrowed his eyes. “If we unravel the longest bramble stems and pull them away from the bush, we could use them to weave shelters around our nests.”

  Holly pricked her ears and padded closer. “That’s a good idea,” she meowed. “I worry about the next snowfall. There’s no broom of gorse here to shelter under.”

  Pebble Heart met her anxious gaze. “I was planning on digging out earth beneath the brambles. I thought I could hollow out a den that way.”

  “Yes!” Gray Wing felt excitement rushing beneath his pelt as his breathing returned to normal. “We could dig sleeping hollows and weave bramble stems over them. The sooner we make this camp into a real home, the better.”

  “Great!” Holly nodded eagerly. “Which side of the clearing do you think would be the most sheltered for the kits?”

  He didn’t need to taste the air to know where the coldest wind blew—he’d spent enough nights shivering in his nest. He nodded toward the far end of the camp. “The bramble wall over there will keep off the leaf-bare breezes.” He lifted his nose toward a hole high in the canopy. Weak sunlight filtered through. “And you’ll get sunshine, which will burn off early frosts.”

  “Pebble Heart.” Mud Paws limped across the clearing toward the young tom. “I wrenched my shoulder chasing a squirrel yesterday. Do you have anything to ease the stiffness?”

  Pride swelled in Gray Wing’s chest to see how the cats were beginning to rely on the young tom for help. He hoped Turtle Tail, up among the spirit cats, could see how important her kit had become to his campmates.

  “A comfrey lining in your nest should help,” Pebble Heart told the brown tom. “But I’ll need to go out and search for some. I’ve only collected coltsfoot and nettle so far.”

  Go out? For the last half-moon, Pebble Heart and the rest of the cats had stayed close to camp. But now Gray Wing’s ear twitched with worry. Fern could be out there. Maybe Slash, too. Pebble Heart seemed to sense Gray Wing’s concern, and he glanced at Mud Paws, who instantly gave a nod.

  “I’ll come with you,” the brown tom offered. “Four eyes are better than two.”

  Relief washed Gray Wing’s pelt. “Stay together,” he warned.

  Pebble Heart flashed him a questioning look. “Is something worrying you?”

  “No.” Gray Wing meowed quickly. “But we don’t know our new territory yet. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Pebble Heart narrowed his eyes, but Mud Paws was already heading for the entrance.

  “We’ll be fine,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry so much, Gray Wing,” said Pebble Heart with a flick of his tail. “It’s not good for your breathing. We know how to look after ourselves.”

  Gray Wing watched Pebble Heart trotting after Mud Paws and tried to ignore the anxiety worming in his belly. He nodded to Holly. “Let’s see if we can start weaving a shelter for your new nest.” He headed toward
the far end of camp, Holly at his side.

  As he passed Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak, they looked up from their conversation.

  “What are you doing?” Jagged Peak eyed Holly.

  “Gray Wing’s helping me build a den for the kits.”

  Jagged Peak’s fur rippled along his spine as he padded forward. “They’re my kits,” he meowed sharply. “I’ll build their den.”

  Holly moved aside as he pushed between her and Gray Wing. “Gray Wing says this end of the camp will be warmest,” she told him.

  Jagged Peak didn’t answer, but began sniffing around the bramble wall.

  Gray Wing backed away. If Jagged Peak wanted to take charge, why argue? Dew Nose, Storm Pelt, and Eagle Feather were his kits.

  “Let me know if you need some help,” said Gray Wing, giving Holly a polite nod. Turning, he noticed Tall Shadow gazing at him. She looked uneasy. Before he could ask if anything was wrong, the camp entrance rustled loudly. A familiar scent touched Gray Wing’s nose.

  “Slate!”

  The amber-eyed moor cat was padding into camp. She dipped her head low to Tall Shadow. “I hope you don’t mind my visiting.”

  Tall Shadow padded from the edge of the clearing. “We’re always pleased to see you.”

  Gray Wing hurried toward Slate. “How are Wind Runner and the kits?”

  “They get bigger every day!” Slate purred. “They’re desperate to explore outside the camp, but Wind Runner won’t let them.” She lowered her voice. “I think Gorse Fur thinks a little fresh air will use up some of their energy, but Wind Runner just sticks out her tail and frowns. There’s no arguing with her.”

  Gray Wing’s whiskers twitched with amusement. Wind Runner had always been certain she knew best. It made her a fierce mother, but a strong one. The kits were lucky to have her.

  “Why don’t you come and visit?”

  “The moor?” Slate’s question took Gray Wing by surprise. He imagined the fresh wind rippling through his fur and pictured the wide-open expanse of heather and peat. His heart ached to be back there, but he shook his head. “I can’t leave my campmates. Not while we’re still settling in.”

  “Not even for a short while?” Slate gazed at him softly. “You haven’t met Reed and Minnow yet. You’d like them.” Reed and Minnow were rogues who had joined Wind Runner’s group at the end of leaf-fall.

  Longing tugged in Gray Wing’s chest.

  Tall Shadow flicked her tail. “Why don’t you go, Gray Wing? We can manage without you.”

  Gray Wing shook his head. Perhaps if he hadn’t overheard Slash and Fern, he’d go with Slate, just for a day. But he couldn’t leave his friends when he knew that danger was stalking among the shadowy pines.

  Mewling sounded outside the camp. Smalls paws pattered over the forest floor.

  “Let me help carry it!” Dew Nose’s mew sounded indignant.

  The brambles rustled and Storm Pelt charged into camp. His eyes shone as the lizard dangled from his jaws. Eagle Feather and Dew Nose burst in after him.

  “I would have found it first,” Dew Nose squeaked. “But Eagle Feather kept getting in the way.”

  Mouse Ear padded after them. He nodded to Gray Wing. “Storm Pelt just followed your scent trail and went straight to it, while these two were running around in circles.”

  “We were not!” Eagle Feather puffed out his chest.

  Mouse Ear purred. “Go and put it on the prey pile, Storm Pelt.” He nodded toward the empty patch at the edge of the clearing. “Though it’s not much of a pile right now.”

  Gray Wing flicked his tail. “We should send out a hunting party.”

  Mouse Ear met his gaze. “Do you want me to go?”

  “Take Holly and Jagged Peak with you,” Gray Wing told him.

  “I can go too,” Slate offered.

  Tall Shadow stepped in front of the moor cat, her tail twitching with annoyance. “Jagged Peak and Holly are busy right now. And Slate has her own group to hunt for.” Her angry gaze scorched Gray Wing’s pelt.

  He tipped his head, puzzled. “But the prey pile’s empty. Jagged Peak and Holly can work on their den later. And Slate has hunted here for seasons. She can show them the best places to find prey.”

  Jagged Peak’s gray fur flashed at the corner of his vision.

  “What’s going on?” The tom padded confidently toward them.

  “Gray Wing’s organizing hunting parties,” Tall Shadow growled, straightening up. “I don’t think it’s your place to make such decisions.”

  Gray Wing bristled. “Mouse Ear offered,” he pointed out. “I just didn’t think it was safe for him to hunt alone.”

  Jagged Peak lifted his chin. “Tall Shadow’s right,” he meowed. “You gave up leadership. You can’t try to take it back now.”

  Shock flashed through Gray Wing’s pelt. “I wasn’t—”

  Tall Shadow huffed. “You’ve been giving orders ever since you returned to camp!”

  Gray Wing blinked at her. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “I’m leader here!” Tall Shadow snapped. “I brought us to this place.”

  “But . . .” Words dried on Gray Wing’s tongue. He knew how much coming here had meant to Tall Shadow. He’d supported her decision and come to help her build a safe home. He’d spent every day watching out for Fern and Slash. He just wanted to keep his campmates safe.

  “I’m sorry, Gray Wing.” Tall Shadow’s mew softened. “But you’ve looked after the cats long enough. You’re not as strong as you used to be.”

  She thinks I’m weak! Gray Wing lashed his tail as she went on.

  “It’s time you let stronger cats take charge. You’re not our leader anymore.”

  “I’m just as strong as any cat!” Gray Wing hissed. “How dare you say—” He stopped. A familiar scent was drifting through the brambles. His pelt bushed.

  Fern!

  He pricked his ears and heard pine needles swish beyond the camp wall.

  That rogue is spying on us.

  He raced for the camp entrance.

  “Gray Wing?” Slate called after him.

  “Don’t go!” Tall Shadow’s mew was sharp with worry. “I was only thinking of your health.”

  Gray Wing flattened his ears as he scraped through the bramble tunnel, opening his mouth to taste the air. It was definitely Fern. He scanned the shadowy forest floor. A dark shape darted past a pine tree and ducked into a clump of bracken. The mouse-hearted rogue was running away.

  Gray Wing raced after her, hackles raised. Tall Shadow had no idea about the dangers lurking in their new home. I’ll show her that I’m not too weak to protect my campmates!

  CHAPTER 7

  Which way had Fern gone, Gray Wing wondered. The rogue’s scent was still fresh, but he’d lost sight of her. He strained to see between the shadowy pines, stiffening as he spotted movement ahead.

  Moving quietly over the pine needles, he followed. The black she-cat was weaving between the trees. It would be easy to catch up. Then he could drag her back to camp and show Tall Shadow that he wasn’t too weak to look after his campmates.

  Gray Wing frowned. Why wasn’t Fern running? Hadn’t she realized she was being followed? Curiosity itched beneath his fur. What was the rogue up to?

  Dropping low, he kept to the shadows, treading as lightly as prey.

  Weak sunlight seeped into the forest ahead. Gray Wing felt the faint rumble of a monster shake the ground. They were approaching the Thunderpath where it sliced through the trees, separating the pine forest and Clear Sky’s woods. Fern’s pelt showed against green as she slid out onto the side of the Thunderpath. Gray Wing paused and peered between the trees.

  Fern crouched at the side of the Thunderpath, scanning the dark trail. A monster growled, its wide white flank flickering beyond the trees as it neared. Gray Wing curled his claws into the earth, his heart quickening as Fern darted onto the Thunderpath. The monster’s eyes glinted in the sunlight. It was nearly on top of her.

 
Watch out! Gray Wing held his breath as Fern pelted across the dark stone. She leaped for the far side a moment before the monster thundered past.

  Gray Wing raced forward and peered from the trees just in time to see Fern’s tail whip past an oak into shadow. A howl pierced his ear fur. The ground shook beneath his paws. Gray Wing froze as another monster roared a tail-length from his nose. Wind whistled in its wake. Grit spattered his flank. His chest tightened as its bitter stench swirled around him.

  As the monster thundered away, Gray Wing raced across the Thunderpath. Blood pounded in his ears as he leaped for the edge and plunged through a clump of bracken. Stopping, he caught his breath. Would he ever get used to the Thunderpath?

  The stench of the monster fading behind him, he forced his hackles down and scanned the forest. The musty scent of fallen leaves filled his nose. Which way had Fern gone? He scouted between the roots of an oak. There! Her paws had passed this way. Nose low, he followed her trail.

  The rogue cat had veered toward the edge of the wood, clearly making sure to avoid Clear Sky’s camp. Was she heading for the moor to meet Slash?

  Roots arched from the ground. Brambles spilled from between trunks. Gray Wing picked his way past them, dodging to avoid prickly stems. Fern was following a zigzagging trail, but she was staying inside the tree line. Gray Wing paused. Why hadn’t she broken cover and headed onto the moor? He could see its grassy slopes beyond the trees. Wasn’t that where she’d last spoken to Slash?

  He frowned. Her path was heading toward the four trees. Was Slash meeting her there?

  Gray Wing pushed on, ears pricked. He stumbled over a root, grimacing as pain shot through his paw. Thorns snagged his pelt as he staggered against a bramble. He decided to cross the moor to the four trees—it might be farther, but it would be easier that way.

  He swerved and headed for the slope beyond the trees, ducking out of the woods and pushing through bracken. As his paws touched smooth grass, wind billowed through his fur. It filled his chest, clean and cold, its rich peaty scent so familiar he felt dizzy with joy. He bounded up the slope and skirted the heather toward the four trees. He moved quickly here. The ground blurred beneath his paws; air filled his chest. His heartbeat quickened and his whiskers streamed against his cheeks. As the slope steepened toward the top of the hollow, Gray Wing slowed. In the woods below, Fern would be picking her way through the undergrowth. He crossed the final stretch of grass to the rim of the hollow and gazed back across the moor. There was the dip—no more than a cloud shadow—where the hollow lay.