by Erin Hunter
What will I do tomorrow? And for the rest of my life?
His stomach growled. He hadn’t had the heart to look for prey after seeing Ice. Maybe this is what happens to toms who leave the Sisters, he thought. They starve because they’re too lonely to hunt.
He couldn’t imagine going on like this. Earth rolled over to try to find a more comfortable spot, grunting as he hit another root, and stared at the lights of a Twopawplace in the distance.
Maybe he should go there tomorrow. That was what happened to cats who couldn’t take care of themselves, wasn’t it? They became some Twopaw’s everkit? Something in him shuddered at the thought—he’d never wanted that.
But what else was he good for? He couldn’t just wander alone forever.
A sudden rough sound, not far away, jerked Earth out of his thoughts. Was that a bark? He could smell something now on the breeze: a thick, meaty scent that made his fur prickle along his spine.
A dog? He’d heard of dogs, and had seen them in the distance, but he’d never gotten close to one. Moonlight had told him how dangerous they were. Getting to his paws, Earth peered into the darkness, trying to see where the scent was coming from.
There was a rustling to his right, and Earth began to back quietly away around the tree trunk, placing his paws carefully so they didn’t make a sound. But then another noise—a strange jingling—came on his other side, followed by a growl just behind him.
Not a dog. Dogs! Earth froze, his heart pounding. They had him surrounded. Three dogs, coming toward him.
He could see them now: a big black dog with golden eyes, its tongue hanging out as it panted. A smaller brown one, its teeth bared. And one with long black-and-white fur, eyeing him as if he were prey. They were padding toward him slowly, like they were sure he couldn’t get away.
Earth couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. This is the end.
Suddenly a sharp yowl rang out, and a cat shot past him in the darkness, heading toward the dogs. With a flash of claws in the moonlight, the stranger slashed the black dog across the nose as he meowed back to Earth.
“Run!”
Chapter 7
Earth ran only a few tail-lengths away, into a tangle of bracken. Then he turned and watched, awestruck. In the moonlight, he could see that the strange cat was pale-furred and not very big, but moved quickly and smoothly, dodging the dogs’ teeth with ease. He drew his claws across the brown dog’s shoulder, then leaped with a yowl to land on the long-furred dog’s back, his tail bristling.
The dog yelped and bolted into the darkness, the other dogs on its heels. The strange cat was still on its back, his tail waving back and forth for balance as he clawed at the dog. Earth’s mouth dropped open as he watched them vanish into the woods. Should he run? Or should he go after the dogs to help the stranger? The other cat was amazingly brave, but eventually the dogs would stop running.
Before Earth could make up his mind, the strange tom came sauntering back into sight, his head high. His eyes were gleaming with what looked like enjoyment. “You hurt, kit?” he asked. Now that they were closer, Earth could see that his fur was as yellow as Earth’s own. His green eyes were shining with excitement.
“I—I’m fine,” Earth replied. He felt suddenly shy—he’d never spoken to an adult tom without one of the Sisters at his side. And this one was so brave, and had saved him. “That was amazing. You chased off all three of them.”
“You just have to keep a steady mind,” the tom meowed. He eyed Earth. “You’re a little young to be on your own, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not!” protested Earth indignantly, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m almost seven moons old.” Well, six and a bit, anyway.
The tom’s whiskers twitched. “I’m not trying to insult you,” he meowed. “I’m Root. I’m glad I could help out.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Earth told him, feeling a little wrong-pawed. This cat had saved him; he should be polite. “I’m Earth.”
There was a glint of amusement in Root’s eye. “That’s a big name. I’m sure you’ll grow into it.” He gave Earth a friendly nod. “Well, take care. Watch out for strange dogs. You might be alone next time.”
“I will,” Earth promised, but he was confused. Was Root just going to leave now? What if those dogs came back?
With a flick of his tail, Root turned and began to walk away. Earth watched him, then looked around at the dark, empty underbrush. I don’t want to stay here alone. Quietly, he followed the other cat.
After a few steps, Root stopped, his ears cocked back toward Earth. “Are you lost?” he asked. “Do you need some help?”
“Well.” Earth’s tail drooped. “I’m not really lost, but I don’t know this place. I’m not sure where to go that’s safe.” He hesitated, thinking of Root’s second question. Do I need help?
Root turned around and looked Earth up and down. He hesitated, as if he was making up his mind about something. “Come on,” he meowed at last. “I know a place where we can sleep tonight.”
“Really?” Delighted, Earth hurried to Root’s side, their fur brushing. “I can stay with you?”
Root flicked his tail dismissively. “For one night,” he answered. “Tomorrow I’ll walk around here with you and help find a good place to make your own camp. I’m only passing through.”
“Me too,” Earth assured him. They began to walk side by side, Earth’s paws light with happiness. Of course, it would be even better if Root wanted to stay together—maybe he will once he gets to know me, Earth thought—but it was so good to be with another cat for a while, even if it was only for one night.
He stuck close to Root, matching his pace to the older tom’s. Root kept looking around and scenting the air, his ears pointing this way and that. “You have to be alert all the time,” he told Earth. “The forest is full of danger for a loner.”
Nodding, Earth walked even closer to him, his fur bristling at the thought of the forest’s dangers.
At last, Root stopped by a tall oak tree. “This looks like a good one,” he meowed cheerfully.
“A good what?” Earth followed Root’s gaze up to the spreading branches above them. “Wait,” he mewed, blinking. “You want to sleep in a tree?”
“A tree is the best place,” Root told him confidently. “Nothing will be able to get at us. And when we wake up, it’s easy to get the lay of the land.”
“Yes, but . . . ,” Earth began. What if we fall out? He’d climbed trees to look around, or chase squirrels, but the idea of being asleep that high up made his pelt tingle uncomfortably.
But Root was already clambering up the tree trunk. “Come on!” he called in a cheerful meow. Unwilling to be left behind, Earth followed.
Up in the tree, Root nodded to the space where a wide branch met the trunk. “That’s a good, safe place,” he meowed. Sprawling along the next branch, he let his tail dangle and shut his eyes.
Earth turned around cautiously, then curled up on the branch, pressed close against the trunk. A breeze ruffled his fur, but the branch felt sturdy and roomy beneath him.
He looked up at the stars, feeling more comfortable than he had since he’d left the Sisters. Root was right: nothing could get him up here. And if anything tried, Root was with him. The leaves of the tree made a soft whispering sound as the wind went through its branches.
Suddenly sleepy, Earth shut his eyes. Listening to Root’s steady breathing, reminded that he was not alone, he fell fast asleep.
The rising sun woke Earth early the next morning, and he yawned and stretched, feeling more rested than he had in a moon.
The branch beside his was empty. Earth looked around, first in the tree and then on the ground below, but there was no sign of Root. He wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye, would he? Earth wasn’t sure: the older tom had been friendly, but he’d made it very clear he wasn’t looking for a companion. Maybe he’d decided not to help Earth make a camp. After all, the Sisters left me, Earth thought. And they’re my kin
.
He scrambled down the tree, and, after sniffing around to see if Root was nearby—he wasn’t—carefully washed his paws and ears. Should I stay or go? he wondered. If Root wasn’t coming back, there was no reason to stay here; he could continue his wander, looking for a better territory. But he wanted to see the other cat again. Earth decided he would wait until at least sunhigh.
A cool breeze ruffled his fur, and Earth hunched his shoulders, feeling cold with no cat to huddle together with. Having had another cat beside him, even for one night, would make it even harder to go back to being alone.
Earth sighed and thought of Stream. Had he really made contact with his friend that one evening in the forest? Was it Stream who had sent the pinecone rolling past his den?
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on Stream, just as he’d done then. “Stream,” he meowed. “If you want to come to me, I’d be glad to see you and speak to you again.” He strained his senses, his ears and whiskers twitching, hoping to catch any hint of his friend. Nothing.
“Please come,” he went on, his voice shaky. “I am trying, I’ve been trying. I hate being on my own. I even went back to the Sisters,” he confessed, lowering his voice. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so lonely. They’ll never let me be one of them again.” A hot jolt of anger shot through him. “It’s not fair,” he meowed. “Stream, they wanted to send us away when we were too young, just because we were toms. I don’t know how to look after myself, and they don’t care. Sometimes I wish I’d never been born, if the Sisters were just going to throw me away.” Earth squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and added, bitterly. “I’ll never forgive them.”
Pausing for a breath, he heard a small noise, like a paw step nearby. Stream? With a surge of hope, Earth opened his eyes.
Stream’s spirit wasn’t there. But Root was, a fat squirrel dangling from his mouth as he stared at Earth. Hot with embarrassment, Earth stared back, not knowing what to say. How long had Root been standing there, watching Earth talk to himself with his eyes closed?
Root dropped the rabbit. Cringing, Earth waited for him to comment, but when Root spoke, it wasn’t what Earth had expected at all.
Instead Root said, in a rather hesitant voice, “Do you know a group that’s all she-cats? Big, long-haired she-cats?”
“You know the Sisters?” Earth asked, amazed. But Root’s expression darkened.
“I know them all right,” he answered angrily. “I spent a lot of time with them for a little while.”
Earth’s eyes widened. Was Root a wandering tom, an older kit of the Sisters? “What do you mean?” he asked. “When?”
“I was mated to one of the Sisters,” Root told him. “I was with her for a while, and I thought they were great, strong and fierce. My mate was expecting my kits. But then Moonlight and the others moved on without me. She said that toms don’t travel with them and that they don’t stay in one place, so she’d have to leave me behind.” He slashed his tail angrily. “She left me without a second thought.”
Earth stared at Root, feeling numb with shock. Moonlight? Root’s fur was as yellow as Earth’s, and one of his paws, Earth suddenly noticed, had six toes, just like Earth’s. Could this be my father?
He licked nervously at the fur on his chest, then said, softly, “They left me, too. I’m one of their kits, but toms can’t stay with the Sisters after they’re six moons old.”
“See?” Root meowed furiously. “They’re cold, the Sisters. They follow their rules, not their hearts.” His voice was so low that it almost seemed like he was talking to himself.
Earth took a step closer to him, his heart pounding wildly. “Moonlight was my mother,” he meowed, hoping that Root would understand what he was saying.
Root stared at him, his green eyes wide. “You said you’re six moons old.” He circled Earth, his gaze raking over him as if he was categorizing all the things Earth had noticed they had in common—his size, his paws, his yellow fur.
“Almost seven,” Earth reminded him.
Root was still staring. “You’re my son,” he realized, sounding shocked. “You must be.”
“I guess so,” Earth whispered, looking away. Suddenly, he felt too shy to meet Root’s eyes.
After a second of silence, Root snarled. Earth’s heart sank: My father hates me, too.
“They threw you out?” Root raged. “You’re not old enough to take care of yourself! Look what happened. Those dogs could have killed you!”
Earth’s eyes widened. Despite Root’s anger, a warm feeling grew in Earth’s chest. Root was angry at the Sisters for making Earth leave. He agreed that Earth was too young!
“They’re so cold,” Root growled again. “Her own kit, and she left you, just like she left me.”
“But now we’ve found each other,” Earth said eagerly, hurrying a few paw steps closer, until he was right in front of Root. “Moonlight and the sisters left both of us behind, but now we can take care of each other. It’s perfect!”
Root paused, his eyes narrowing, and Earth gulped. “Isn’t it?”
Root looked away. “I told you I was a loner,” he meowed quietly.
“But . . . but you’re so angry that Moonlight left me,” Earth argued. “You’re going to leave me, too?”
“It’s not the same,” Root muttered.
“It is,” Earth insisted. He let his claws out and ripped at the dirt beneath him. He’d been so happy, just for a heartbeat.
“Look,” Root told him, sounding guilty, “we’ll stick together for a moon or two. I’ll teach you to look after yourself properly. I promise, I’ll help you until you’re ready, not just throw you out like the Sisters did.”
“You will?” Earth asked, thin tendrils of hope beginning to spread through him.
“Yes,” Root promised. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. But I’m used to being alone. Running with a friend, or kin, leads to being responsible for them. It’s too hard to rely on another cat. If you lose them, it’ll rip you apart. It’s better not to count on any cat. Moonlight showed me that,” he added bitterly.
“Okay,” Earth agreed. This was better than nothing: he’d have Root for a moon, maybe two. He’d learn how to take care of himself—Root was smart and tough and could teach him a lot. And who knew? A couple of moons was a long time. Maybe Root will change his mind and want to stick together. “Okay,” he repeated, more cheerfully. “What’s my first lesson?”
“Well,” Root meowed, his tone warmer in response to Earth’s, “there’s your name.”
“My name?” Earth asked, bewildered.
A teasing light began to shine in Root’s eyes. “Like I said, it’s a big name for a kit your size. And it’s the name the Sisters gave you. You’re not one of them anymore, are you? You can choose who you want to be.”
Earth thought. Did he still want the name Moonlight gave him? Did he want anything from her? He looked around.
Above him, the oak where he and Root had slept spread its branches. It was solid and comforting. It had taken care of them through the night. It wasn’t going anywhere.
“You’re right,” he told Root. “I don’t want to be Earth anymore. From now on, call me Tree.”
Chapter 8
“I’m telling you, it’s the best way,” Root meowed, shaking leaves off his pelt as he got to his paws. He bent down and used his mouth to pick up the mouse he had just killed.
“I’m not convinced that lying around until prey decides you’re a bush instead of a cat is really the best way to hunt,” Tree replied dubiously. Root cocked his head and waggled the mouse back and forth—as if saying, And yet, see this mouse?—until Tree purred with laughter.
“Okay, I get your point,” Tree admitted. “Here, I’ll take it back to camp unless you’re hungry now.”
“Great,” Root meowed, dropping the mouse at Tree’s paws. “I’ll keep hunting.” He lay down again, placing a few leaves on his own back for effect.
Shaking his head in amusement, Tree c
arried the mouse back to the foot of the tree where they’d been sleeping and scraped up a few pawfuls of dirt to bury it for safekeeping.
In the two moons that he and his father had spent together, Tree had learned a lot. Root didn’t always hunt the way the Sisters did: he believed in taking care of himself while expending as little energy as possible. So not only did he have unique hunting techniques, but he had also taught Tree to find food in Twopaw trash and in the unattended bowls of everkits. He’d shown Tree how to pick the safest spots to rest. And he’d shown him fighting techniques, but also what he said was more useful: how to arch his back and snarl and frighten off rogues and dogs so that they might not have to fight at all.
I would have had such a hard time without Root, Tree thought as he brushed some dry leaves across where he’d buried the mouse.
Another leaf drifted down from the oak tree, and Tree’s tail drooped. Icetime was coming. Root had always said that they wouldn’t stay together for more than a moon or two, and it had been two moons.
Tree knew how much he owed Root. But still . . . he would be adrift and lonely when they went their separate ways.
If he couldn’t stay with his father forever, Tree wished he could be like the rest of the Sisters. If he could talk to the land, and if he could see spirits, he’d never be alone. Would he ever be able to? Moonlight had told him he would, someday, but he had tried so hard, and nothing had come of it. . . .
He straightened, struck by a new idea. Maybe—just maybe—something had changed since he was a kit. He was bigger and smarter and more capable now; was it possible that the land would speak to him in a way it had refused to when he was younger?
Tree glanced around half guiltily, making sure that Root wasn’t in sight. Root didn’t like to be reminded of Moonlight and the rest of the Sisters. He didn’t like to see Tree acting like them. The older cat wasn’t nearby, though, so Tree settled comfortably among the soft, dry leaves and tried to remember what Moonlight had taught him.
