by Erin Hunter
“Okay.” He burst from the bramble a moment after Petal. They charged between the trees, the dog some way behind. It had been slowed by the detour around the bramble, but it was not giving up easily.
Ahead, light showed as the woods thinned. Another rise and they’d break cover from the trees.
Petal’s fur streamed in the wind as she ran. Clear Sky fought for breath, relief surging as they crested the rise and surged down the slope. Bursting from the trees, he saw a small pack of Twolegs.
In brightly colored pelts, they moved through the ferns on the moor slope.
“Let’s get as close to them as we can!” Clear Sky yowled. He plunged into the ferns as the dog exploded from the forest behind them.
The Twolegs spun, their pink faces reddening with surprise. One began to bellow; another put its paw to its lips and shrilled a piercing alarm call.
The dog’s head jerked toward the Twolegs. Its ears pricked, surprise lighting its gaze.
The Twolegs called louder.
With a rush of joy, Clear Sky saw the dog swerve. Paws skidding over the grass, it dived through the ferns and headed for the Twolegs.
“Let’s get out of here,” Petal puffed. She turned and raced back toward the forest. Clear Sky chased after her, relief pulsing so fiercely that he hardly heard the wind in his ears. She didn’t stop running until she reached the big beech.
Clear Sky stumbled to a halt behind her, heart pounding.
“Where are they?” Petal was darting back and forth across the slope, her pelt bristling. “Alder! Birch!”
A mournful squeak sounded from above. “Petal!”
Clear Sky looked up and saw Birch and Alder huddled in the crook of the lowest branch. Eyes wide, trembling, they were pressed together like fledglings.
“It’s safe to come down,” he told them.
Petal stopped beside him. “The dog’s gone,” she called gently.
Birch stretched his forepaws down the trunk and, clinging like a squirrel, slithered down headfirst. Alder lowered herself more gracefully tail-first, still trembling as she reached the ground.
“You’re safe.” Petal licked her roughly while Birch pressed hard against her.
“Can we go home now?” Birch begged.
Alder shook out her fur. The mud had dried into crumbs and she shuddered as they sprinkled onto the forest floor. “I’ve had enough of training.”
“Of course you have.” Petal wrapped her tail over the young kit’s spine. “Let’s get you home for a rest.”
As she led them downslope toward the camp, one on either side, Clear Sky caught his breath. “You’ve learned a lot for one day,” he called after them.
Birch glanced over his shoulder. “We learned how to climb trees.”
Alder pressed closer against Petal. “We were supposed to be learning how to attack other cats,” she told the she-cat shakily.
“Really?” Petal slowed and licked some of the mud from Alder’s pelt.
Alder nodded. “Clear Sky wanted me to jump out at Birch when he came looking for me.”
Clear Sky caught them up. “It’s important to know how to sneak up on an enemy.”
Petal glanced at him accusingly. “It might have been better to teach them how not to get snuck up on.” She scooped the kits closer with her tail. “They’re too young for battle training.”
Birch pulled away from her, chin high. “I’m not.”
Clear Sky purred. “Of course you’re not.” He shook out his pelt, his paws still sparking with exhilaration from the chase. He’d saved the kits, and protected his group—just as he had promised he would.
They’re too young for battle training. Petal’s words echoed in his ears. A growl rumbled in his throat. No cat’s too young to fight. Clear Sky paused, unease rippling beneath his pelt. Would Gray Wing agree? Or Quiet Rain? Or his beloved Bright Stream?
A sudden chill pierced his fur. He shivered and hurried to catch up with Petal and the kits.
Anxious yowls rang between the trees.
Clear Sky jerked up his head. Blinking away sleep, he scrambled to his paws. “What’s going on?” He scanned the camp from his nest in the hollow of the slope. His heart lurched. He’d only closed his eyes for an afternoon nap; now the clearing was golden in the setting sun. He screwed up his eyes as shafts of light sliced between the trees.
“Clear Sky!” Falling Feather was pacing near the brambles that edged the far end of the camp. Quick Water had climbed the slope above his nest and was peering into the trees. Fircone and Nettle stood in the middle of the clearing, square on, facing the gap where the brambles opened into forest. Beside them, Leaf showed his teeth, a growl rumbling in his throat.
Beyond the brambles, paw steps scuffed the earth. The scent of strange cats rolled into the clearing.
Clear Sky leaped from his nest and crossed it. Pushing between Fircone and Leaf, he glared at the opening.
Falling Feather stopped pacing, her hackles rising. Nettle hissed as two cats padded into camp.
A she-cat with short gray fur blinked at them with bright blue eyes.
Beside her, a mangy tom lifted his tail. “We’ve found you.”
Clear Sky marched forward. “Found us?”
“I’m Dew,” the gray she-cat told him. “This is Thorn.” She nodded to the tom.
He dipped his head, tufts of fur hanging from his brown pelt. “We were hoping you’d have space in your camp for two more rogues.”
Surprise pulsed through Clear Sky. “You want to join us?” Pride edged his mew. His reputation was clearly spreading.
Leaf narrowed his eyes. “We don’t need more cats.”
Quick Water scrambled down from the slope and stopped beside Falling Feather. “We have enough rogues, thanks.”
Nettle stared at Thorn. “He looks like he’s sick.”
Thorn lifted his head and shook out his pelt. Fur clouded around him. “I’m just molting.”
Clear Sky stood still. His thoughts whirled. New cats would mean more fighters. Of course, the tom would have to smarten himself up. The forest cats weren’t going to take in sickly strays.
Fircone paced around the two strangers, his gaze flitting over them. “We don’t need more mouths to feed.”
“We can feed ourselves, thanks,” Dew told him.
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. We’ll need more territory if we have more cats. He swallowed back a purr.
Falling Feather padded to his side. “Shall I chase them off?” she asked quietly.
Clear Sky looked at her, rounding his eyes with surprise. “Why would I want you to chase them off? We need allies, and these cats look like they can take care of themselves.”
Falling Feather backed away, pelt pricking. “But I thought—”
“Let me do the thinking.” Clear Sky swished his tail. “I think we should consider their request.”
Leaf tipped his head. “Why?”
Clear Sky gazed slowly around at the cats. He knew he must appear reasonable, and not let Dew and Thorn think that they could just walk in and find a soft place to sleep. “Leaf’s question is a good one.” He turned to the strangers. “Why should we take you in?”
“We can hunt prey for you as well as ourselves,” Thorn told him.
Dew nodded. “Thorn looks scrawny, but he’s wily, and as fast as a ferret.”
“Dew’s a good fighter,” Thorn offered. “No cat’s taken prey from her since she was a kit.”
Clear Sky nodded slowly. They sounded promising. “Anything else?” He wasn’t going to make this easy.
Dew and Thorn glanced at each other.
“We have information you might find useful,” Dew meowed softly.
Clear Sky pricked his ears. “About what?”
Thorn’s whiskers twitched. “We’ve been watching your rivals.”
Clear Sky snorted. “We have no rivals.”
Dew’s eyes glittered. “Really? What about the cats who live on the moor? The one they call Gray Wing?”
>
“And the orange tom with the big white paws?” Thorn added.
“Thunder?” Quick Water darted forward, ears pricking. “How is he?”
“Is he okay?” Falling Feather padded to her friend’s side, eyes bright.
Thunder has gone back to Gray Wing? Clear Sky glared at Falling Feather. “Be quiet.” He snapped his gaze back to Dew. “What have you seen?”
“We’ve watched their kits practicing battle skills.” Dew stared at Clear Sky, unblinking.
“They’ve learned how to attack a dead rabbit,” Thorn sneered. “And the older cats were discussing how to turn hunting moves into battle moves.”
Clear Sky forced the fur along his spine to stay flat. What was Gray Wing up to?
Thorn went on. “They were about to practice fighting, but a black cat interrupted.”
“Do you mean Tall Shadow?” Falling Feather padded closer.
Thorn shrugged. “Maybe.”
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. “Why did the black cat interrupt?”
Dew shrugged. “She and Gray Wing made some kind of speech from a rock. Then the rest of the cats started cheering.”
Thorn frowned with distaste. “They were chanting names. Then every cat ate.”
“Every cat?” Clear Sky curled his lip. “Was there enough prey?”
“More than enough,” Dew told him. “They had a heap of it and they gobbled it up like a pack of dogs.”
Clear Sky’s belly tightened. “It sounds like they’re preparing for battle.”
“Gray Wing wouldn’t start a battle!” Quiet Water gasped.
Wouldn’t he? Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. Gray Wing might be soft, but he was no fool. He’d fight if he thought it was the right thing to do. And yet, the last time they’d spoken, Gray Wing had backed away from challenging Clear Sky directly over Bumble’s death. Why show hostility now?
Thunder!
Clear Sky stiffened. Was that why his son had left? Had he gone to warn Gray Wing that Clear Sky was planning to expand his borders?
Jealousy burned beneath his pelt. Had Thunder only come to the forest in the first place to spy for Gray Wing?
Traitor!
He’d been Gray Wing’s cat all along! I trusted him because he was my son! Hackles rising, Clear Sky felt a growl rise in his throat. I’m a fool!
“Can we join you then?” Dew’s calm mew jolted him from his thoughts.
“Yes!” Pulsing with rage, Clear Sky barged past the rogues and headed into the woods. I was right to set boundaries. I’m right to train my cats for battle. War was coming. He could feel it. Gray Wing was on the move.
Clear Sky’s claws spiked leaves as he marched through the woods. If Gray Wing thinks he’s going to take us by surprise, then he can think again! We’ll be ready. He halted and stared between the trees. Beyond, the moor rose like a spine arching against the setting sun. You want battle? He pictured Gray Wing training his cats to fight. I’ll give you war.
CHAPTER 6
Where is everyone? Thunder strained to see through the mist. Dawn light filtered weakly through the thick fog, which shrouded the moor. Am I early?
He was waiting to join Gray Wing’s expedition to Clear Sky’s camp. Gorse Fur had promised to come. Jackdaw’s Cry had volunteered too. But Thunder was the only one outside the hollow.
Paw steps scuffed behind him.
Thunder whipped around. “Gray Wing?”
A dark shape showed through the mist. “It’s me.” Jackdaw’s Cry’s mew was hushed. “Where are the others?” His black face emerged from the fog, a muzzle-length away.
Thunder shrugged. “I’m the only one here.” He stretched his ears. The fog muffled the sounds of the camp. “Is anyone else out of their nest?”
“It was too foggy to tell.” Jackdaw’s Cry shook out his pelt with a shiver and sat down.
Thunder faced the moor stiffly as silence descended between them, thicker than the fog. He remembered the black tom’s hostile gaze yesterday. Jackdaw’s Cry had never wanted him to join the cats on the moor, even as a kit. He hunched against the chill of the fog, the memory of his early loss echoing painfully in his chest. In one day, he’d lost his mother, been rejected by his father, and then had to stand and listen while Gray Wing pleaded with the moor cats to allow him to stay in their camp. Jackdaw’s Cry had argued that they couldn’t take in another mouth to feed. He’d backed down when Gray Wing had threatened to leave if Thunder was sent away, but Thunder still carried the memory of the black tom’s resentful gaze.
He pictured it now, its sharpness boring deeper and deeper until Thunder couldn’t stay quiet. “Are you hoping I’ll go back to my father?”
Jackdaw’s Cry jerked around, blinking. “Why would you say that?” He sounded confused.
“I’ve seen how you’ve been watching me since I returned,” Thunder growled bitterly. “You didn’t want me back. You never wanted me to begin with.”
“You were Clear Sky’s son.” Jackdaw’s Cry shifted his paws. “Not our responsibility.”
“I had nowhere else to go,” Thunder murmured.
Jackdaw’s Cry didn’t answer.
“Where did you think I’d end up?” Anger pricked at Thunder’s paws. “I wasn’t old enough to hunt for myself.”
“Hawk Swoop had her own kits to take care of. I had to put them first.”
“Was that a good enough reason to turn a kit out alone onto the moor?” Thunder hissed.
Jackdaw’s Cry’s fur lifted uncomfortably along his spine. “Clear Sky would have taken you in if you had nowhere else to go.” He stared into the mist. “He’d never let his own kit die.”
“Do you still believe that?”
Jackdaw’s Cry didn’t answer.
“What about now?” Thunder pressed. “Would you rather I went back to Clear Sky? Or lived as a rogue?”
Jackdaw’s Cry swished his tail, sending the fog swirling about him. “You’re here,” he meowed matter-of-factly. “Why worry about it?”
Thunder stared at the black tom. Would this stubborn cat ever accept him? He padded forward a few paces and tasted the damp air. It was rich with the peaty musk of the moor. Then a fishy tang touched his nose. He stiffened as paws brushed the grass ahead and a shape showed through the mist.
Thunder hissed. “Who’s that?” He didn’t recognize the scent.
A purr echoed from the fog and Thunder recognized the sleek, silver-furred rogue who lived beside the water, River Ripple. A scrap of prey dangled from the newcomer’s jaws.
Thunder stiffened as River Ripple dropped a dead lizard onto the grass. Is that prey? He gagged.
“Calm your waters,” River Ripple mewed. “It’s only me.”
“What are you doing here?” Jackdaw’s Cry stepped forward.
“You’re a long way from the river,” Thunder pointed out.
“I wanted to see how far the fog stretched.” He peered across the hollow. “It’s swallowed your camp, I see.”
“Is that a gift?” Jackdaw’s Cry reached forward tentatively and poked the lizard.
“I caught it earlier,” River Ripple explained. “But I’d just eaten a couple of minnows. I thought I’d save the lizard for later.” His belly rumbled. “I guess it’s later now. Do you want some?”
“No thanks.” Thunder wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t imagine chewing through the gristly skin of such an ugly-looking creature. He didn’t even want to guess what it tasted like.
River Ripple settled onto his belly and grabbed the lizard between his forepaws. “It’s quiet up here.” He nibbled one of the lizard’s webbed feet.
Thunder looked away. “How can you eat that?”
“I eat what I can catch,” River Ripple told him, chewing. “And with Clear Sky hogging all the good prey, I have to make do with what I can find.”
Jackdaw’s Cry flattened his ears. “We’re planning to visit Clear Sky today.”
“Is that why your fur’s pricking?” River Ripple flipped the lizard around and
began gnawing at its tail.
Jackdaw’s Cry shook out his pelt. “It’s just damp, that’s all,” he grunted.
River Ripple stared up at him, still chewing. “What are you going to see him for?”
Thunder lifted his chin. “We will tell him that he can’t keep claiming more territory.”
“Really?” River Ripple ripped off the lizard’s hind leg, chewed for a moment, then swallowed. “Good luck with that.” He hooked the lizard carcass with a claw and held it out. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?”
Thunder backed away.
Jackdaw’s Cry dipped his head. “Thanks, but no.”
River Ripple got to his paws. “Then I’ll use the scraps to see if I can attract something bigger.”
Thunder narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
River Ripple looked over his shoulder into the mist. “Small prey attracts big prey,” he meowed absently. “You just have to lay it down and wait to see what comes sniffing.”
Jackdaw’s Cry huffed. “That might work with fish, but on the moor you need to be careful what you attract.” He glanced up, as though scanning the sky for buzzards.
“I guess.” River Ripple began to amble away. “Take care in the forest. If you manage to get Clear Sky to stop claiming every piece of land as his own, let me know.” As he disappeared into the fog, his voice echoed back. “Though I don’t expect I’ll be hearing from you.”
Thunder glanced nervously at Jackdaw’s Cry. “Do you think we’re wasting our time with this expedition?”
Jackdaw’s Cry shifted his paws. “Take no notice of River Ripple. He’s been living on his island too long. He’s turned fish-brained.”
“Where are the others?” Thunder couldn’t banish the queasy feeling in his belly. “I thought Shattered Ice was coming with us.”
“So did I.”
“And where’s Gray Wing?” Thunder’s tail twitched nervously. “He’s supposed to be leading the party.”
“I’m here.” Gray Wing’s mew sounded from behind. Paws ruffled grass as he padded out of camp. He stopped beside them. “I told the others not to come.”
“Not to come?” Jackdaw’s Cry blinked. “Have you changed your mind about talking to Clear Sky?”
