Disappointment gathered over Gray Wing like a dark cloud. “But they’re my family too. Please, Storm. You know I would never hurt them.”
Storm shook her head again, more decisively this time. “These are my kits,” she meowed.
Frustrated, Gray Wing wondered what he could do to change her mind. Clearly she had decided to cut him and Clear Sky—and all that she had experienced with them—out of her life.
But is that the best choice? Why doesn’t she want help from any cat to look after them?
Gray Wing wanted to ask those questions, but in the face of Storm’s proud, challenging gaze, the words wouldn’t come. Dipping his head in acceptance, he murmured, “Good-bye, Storm. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Then he turned away and padded down, down through the bleak levels of the monster den, until he was out in the open, where Bumble was waiting.
With every paw step he took away from the Twolegplace, Gray Wing became more and more convinced that he was doing the wrong thing. That night, he slept only fitfully. His cozy nest in the new camp seemed full of thorns and pebbles. And when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Storm, so thin and desperate, and yet full of courage.
As dawn light began to trickle over the moor, Gray Wing came to a decision. I won’t give up on Storm. She and her kits are part of my family now. Family should look after one another.
On his way across the moor, Gray Wing kept a lookout for prey, and pounced on a rabbit as it popped its head out of its hole. I’ll carry it to Storm’s empty den, to help her feed her kits.
Gray Wing saw no sign of Clear Sky or his cats as he padded through the forest, but as he approached the Twolegplace he spotted Turtle Tail racing away from the red stone dens. Her ears were flattened and her fur fluffed up in panic.
Gray Wing bounded across her path to intercept her. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
Turtle Tail’s eyes were stretched wide as she fixed a wild gaze on Gray Wing. “You’ve got to come!” she panted. “Storm’s den is under attack!”
Without waiting for a reply, she spun around and raced back toward the Twolegplace. Gray Wing dropped his prey and took off after her. An image of the desolate den came into his mind and he wondered what could possibly attack something so huge.
Turtle Tail must be wrong! But if Storm is in danger, I have to help!
Before the den came into sight, Gray Wing could hear a low rumbling sound, which grew and grew until it filled the whole world, as if thunder was breaking right overhead. The air was thick with the scent of stone and dust and the reek of monsters.
Gray Wing’s whole body shuddered with apprehension. Something terrible is happening!
As he skidded around a corner, shoulder to shoulder with Turtle Tail, Gray Wing got his first sight of the den. He halted as sharply as if he had slammed into a wall. The huge den was half hidden in a cloud of dust. Behind the billowing screen Gray Wing spotted a vast monster. Its paws were bigger than he had ever seen before; its sides were a glaring yellow, and it had shiny silver jaws that were steadily chomping into the red stone walls of the den.
“Storm! Storm!” he yowled, but the roaring of the monster was so loud that his voice was drowned.
He turned to Turtle Tail. “I’m going in.”
“You can’t!” His friend’s eyes were wide with terror. “The monster will eat you too!”
Ignoring her, Gray Wing took a pace forward, but at that moment, with an even louder thunderclap, one side of the den collapsed in on itself. Broken stone flowed onto the path like water. More dust billowed out, choking Gray Wing and making his eyes sting.
For a moment Gray Wing felt that he had been turned to stone, his paws frozen to the ground. Surely Storm would have heard the noise of the monster before now? She must have brought her kits to safety!
But as the dust began to clear, Gray Wing spotted Storm’s panicked face staring out of a gap in the wall of the den, high up near the top. Her jaws gaped wide in a silent plea for help.
“I’m coming, Storm!” Gray Wing yowled.
For a moment his gaze met Storm’s. Then the yellow monster took another bite out of the wall. The whole den tilted sideways, beginning to collapse, and the silver she-cat vanished from sight.
Gray Wing and Turtle Tail crouched close to the ground as the stone crashed down. The roaring was so loud that pain clawed at Gray Wing’s ears. Surging clouds of dust blotted out the den and the monster.
Gradually the sound died away. Gray Wing looked up, realizing the monster had stopped its terrible feeding. Staggering to his paws, he raced forward into the debris. Through the dreadful dust and rumble of settling stones, he heard a feeble cry.
“Storm!” he called. “I’m coming!”
Frantically he dug into the rubble. Scraping away shards of stone, he touched silver fur, and cleared away the debris with desperate paws until Storm’s body lay exposed. Her legs were stretched out stiffly and her eyes were closed. Dust clotted in her fur. Beside her, half buried in the wreckage, were the three limp bodies of the kits she had tried to protect.
Oh, Storm . . .
Gray Wing bent his head to lick her fur, and at that moment Storm’s green eyes flickered open. She blinked, focusing on Gray Wing, then raised her head a little to see the three bodies of her kits.
“My kits . . .” she whispered brokenly. “I just wanted to keep them safe!”
“You did all you could.” Gray Wing comforted her.
“Tell Clear Sky . . . I’m sorry . . .” Storm’s faint whisper died away. Her head flopped back and her eyes closed.
Gray Wing rested a paw on her chest and bent his head toward her muzzle, but she wasn’t breathing. Good-bye, Storm . . . he thought, numb with grief. Feeling his heart breaking, he collected loose stones to pile gently on her body.
A tiny movement in the dust alerted him. He turned his head in disbelief to see that one of the kits—a sturdy ginger tom—was stirring a little.
He’s not dead!
A renewed rumbling told Gray Wing that the remaining walls of the den were shaking around him. He dug away the rubble that partly covered the kit’s body and grabbed him by the scruff. As the walls collapsed, he dragged him clear, stumbling out onto the path in a chaos of rolling dust and flying splinters of stone.
“This way!” Darting forward, Turtle Tail shoved Gray Wing around the corner and out of the worst of the dust. “Where’s Storm?” she asked.
Gray Wing set the kit down gently. “Dead,” he choked out. “And the other two kits. But this one’s alive . . . just.”
Crouching side by side, Gray Wing and Turtle Tail licked vigorously at the little ginger tom until he began to squirm feebly and let out a tiny wail.
“He’s going to live,” Turtle Tail meowed. “Come on, I’ll help you carry him back to the forest.”
Ignoring Gray Wing’s protests that he could manage, Turtle Tail lifted the kit gently by his scruff and set off down the path, Gray Wing limping alongside her. They didn’t stop until they left the Twolegplace behind and reached the outlying trees.
“Let’s catch our breath,” Turtle Tail suggested, puffing out a sigh as she set the kit down.
Gray Wing sank to the ground. His pelt was matted and filthy, and his pads stung from walking over the splintered stone. He couldn’t forget the look in Storm’s eyes as she gazed at him with the den falling around her.
If only I’d gotten there sooner, I might have saved her!
“I know you’re blaming yourself,” Turtle Tail murmured, her sympathetic gaze resting on him. “It wasn’t your fault.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re thinking of Bright Stream, aren’t you? But this time is different: there’s a survivor. Clear Sky has a son.” She bent her head to lick the tiny kit’s ear. “You must take him to his father.”
Instinctively Gray Wing reached out a paw to scoop the kit toward himself. He didn’t want to lose this last connection to Storm. “I loved Storm too,” he whispered.
r />
“I know.” Turtle Tail’s voice was gentle. “But this kit is not your son.”
Gray Wing let out a sigh; in the midst of his grief, he knew that Turtle Tail was right. “I don’t even know what to call him!” he mewed.
Turtle Tail bent her face close to the kit’s and brushed her muzzle against his. “What’s your name, little one?” she asked.
The kit looked up at her, bewildered. “I don’t know,” he squeaked.
“Maybe Storm hadn’t decided on names yet,” Gray Wing meowed.
Turtle Tail glanced back at the Twolegplace, as if she was picturing the collapsed den. “What about Thunder?” she suggested. “He was born of Storm, in the midst of a storm of stones and dust, yet he has survived.”
The ginger kit let out a high-pitched mew.
“I think he agrees!” Turtle Tail exclaimed, her gaze warm.
Taking a deep breath, Gray Wing rose to his paws. “Come on, little Thunder,” he meowed. “It’s time to meet your father.”
Turtle Tail bade Gray Wing farewell and headed back into the Twolegplace. Picking up Thunder by his scruff, Gray Wing plunged deeper into the woods, staggering from exhaustion as he found the track that would lead him to Clear Sky’s camp.
Before he reached it, there was a rustle in the undergrowth and three cats stepped in front of him: Frost, Petal, and a black-and-white tom Gray Wing didn’t recognize.
“You’re not welcome here,” Frost growled, his neck fur bristling.
Petal fixed him with a hostile gaze. “You killed Fox.”
“It was an accident,” Gray Wing replied, speaking with difficulty around the kit he was carrying. He remembered that Petal was Fox’s sister, and couldn’t blame her for her anger. “Clear Sky knows that.”
“And who is this kit?” The black-and-white tom pushed up close to Thunder, who whimpered and tried to shrink away from him.
“I’ll tell Clear Sky, not you.”
For a heartbeat the three cats glared at Gray Wing. I can’t fight all of them, he thought despairingly. And I’m so tired of all this hostility. “Just take me to my brother,” he asked.
At first the three cats didn’t move. Then Petal stepped back, beckoning him with her tail. “Okay,” she mewed. “But don’t even think about putting a paw wrong, or you’ll wish you’d never been kitted.”
The black-and-white tom stayed on guard, while Frost and Petal escorted Gray Wing along the track, one on each side.
It’s like they think we’re spies, or we’re their prisoners.
Clear Sky leaped down from a tree as Gray Wing and the others entered the camp. He bounded across the clearing and faced Gray Wing. “What do you want?” he demanded.
Gray Wing glanced at the other cats, and Clear Sky waved them back with his tail. When they had retreated to the edge of the clearing, Gray Wing set Thunder down at Clear Sky’s paws. “This kit is your son.”
Thunder dipped his head and blinked shyly up at his father.
Clear Sky’s shocked blue gaze was fixed on Gray Wing. “Where’s Storm?” he asked hoarsely.
Gray Wing bowed his head. “Storm is dead.” While Clear Sky stared at him, stunned, he told of how Turtle Tail had warned him, and how they had reached the collapsing den in time to witness the death of Storm and the other kits. “She spoke to me before she died,” he finished. “She asked me to tell you she was sorry.”
Clear Sky shook his head, bewildered, his blue eyes filled with pain. “I can’t believe this . . .” he breathed out. “Not Storm . . . not such a dreadful death.” He paced away for a few paw steps, then turned back toward Gray Wing and his son.
“Take him away,” he meowed. “There’s no place for him here.”
“What?” Gray Wing couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He’s your son!”
“I can’t raise him.” Clear Sky’s voice was bleak. “It’s my fault his mother died. If I’d stopped Storm from leaving, she would still be alive. What kind of life can I give her kit?”
Gray Wing began to understand. If Thunder stayed in the camp, he would be a constant reminder to Clear Sky of what he had lost.
“How can I raise a kit?” Clear Sky demanded. “I have too much to do here, protecting these cats.”
“You have cats who will help you!” Gray Wing retorted. “Thunder needs you.”
Clear Sky shook his head decisively. “No. What he needs is a father who can take care of him—who doesn’t bring bad luck to every cat he cares about.” His voice was hard, filled with anger and self-loathing.
Gray Wing knew there was no point in trying to persuade him. Shocked to the depths of his fur, he meowed: “This truly is the end of our brotherhood. I can’t recognize you anymore as the beloved littermate I grew up with and traveled here with.”
Sadly Clear Sky nodded. “If you can’t accept me as leader of these cats, or understand what I’m trying to do for the good of every one of them, then there’s no relationship left between us.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Gray Wing and Thunder alone except for the watchful guards. They moved forward, flanking Gray Wing to escort him out of the territory.
Gray Wing’s patience snapped. “We can see ourselves out, furballs!” He curled his tail around Thunder to guide him, letting him walk on tottery legs out of the clearing and down the track that would lead to the moor.
“What happened?” Thunder asked, sounding utterly confused. “Was that . . . my father?”
“Yes.” And I wish he wasn’t.
“Are you sure?” Thunder persisted. “Why didn’t he like me?”
Gray Wing heaved a deep sigh. “It’s complicated. But it’s not your fault.”
By the time they reached the camp on the moor, Thunder was exhausted and Gray Wing had to carry him again. The other cats rose to their paws as Gray Wing pushed his way through the gorse bushes that lined the rim of the hollow and padded down the slope.
Tall Shadow came to meet him. “Who’s this?” she asked, flicking her tail at Thunder. “Where did he come from?”
Gray Wing set the kit down; Thunder looked half asleep, not really aware of where he was. “His name is Thunder,” he told Tall Shadow. “He is Clear Sky’s son.”
Hawk Swoop, her belly heavy with kits, took a pace forward. “Are you flea-brained?” she demanded. “Why did you bring him here? Clear Sky will use him as an excuse to attack us.”
“He won’t,” Gray Wing mewed quietly. “He didn’t want Thunder anywhere near him.”
As briefly as he could, he told them of Storm’s death and his meeting with Clear Sky. While he spoke, Hawk Swoop’s gaze softened as she looked down at the tiny kit. When Gray Wing had finished speaking, she nudged Thunder to his paws and curled her tail around him, pressing him close to her swollen belly. “Come, little one,” she murmured as she headed toward her tunnel-nursery. Glancing over her shoulder at Gray Wing, she added, “I’ll look after him.”
Tall Shadow gathered the other cats together with a sweep of her tail, then leaped onto the top of the tall rock at the far end of the camp.
“You all heard Gray Wing’s story,” she began. “Now we have to decide what to do with this kit. Can we keep him here?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Shattered Ice replied. “He’s a stranger. We’re not his kin—”
“I’m his kin,” Gray Wing pointed out. “So is Jagged Peak.”
“Yeah.” Jagged Peak spoke up from where he sat at the entrance to his den. “He has a right to be here.”
“But his closest kin is Clear Sky,” Shattered Ice retorted. “And how do we know that Clear Sky won’t change his mind and demand him back?”
“Then we send him back.” Rainswept Flower spoke impatiently. “If his father wants the poor little scrap, then that’s a good thing. But meanwhile, how is he supposed to survive if we don’t keep him?”
“It will be difficult to care for him,” Cloud Spots mewed thoughtfully. “He needs milk . . .”
“Hawk S
woop is near enough to kitting,” Dappled Pelt responded immediately. “She already said she would look after him. How can you—”
“I said it will be difficult.” Cloud Spots flicked his ears. “I never said we shouldn’t try.”
“But is any cat thinking of Hawk Swoop?” Jackdaw’s Cry sounded argumentative. “She’ll have her own kits to care for—my kits. It’s not fair to expect her to manage another one.”
Dappled Pelt glared at him. “She’s made her decision.”
“I have a right to—” Jackdaw’s Cry began.
Tired of the debate, Gray Wing padded to the front of the group of cats, just below the rock where Tall Shadow was standing. “If Thunder is Clear Sky’s son, then he is my kin,” he meowed determinedly. “This will be his home from now on. Drive him out, and you’ll lose me too.”
“Gray Wing!” Tall Shadow sounded shocked. “There’s no need for that.”
“Then let Thunder stay.”
Tall Shadow’s gaze swept across the cats below her. “Does any cat object to that?”
The cats glanced at each other. Rainswept Flower gave a decisive nod. “What sort of cats would we be if we refused to help him?”
No cat argued with her. Jackdaw’s Cry muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t speak his objection aloud.
“Then it’s agreed,” Tall Shadow announced. “Thunder is one of us.” She leaped down from the rock into the midst of her cats.
Gray Wing dipped his head to her in gratitude, then turned away and spotted Thunder sitting at the mouth of Hawk Swoop’s burrow. Clearly he had heard every word of the debate that had raged over his head, and he looked horrified, his eyes wide and scared.
Padding over to him, Gray Wing rested his muzzle on the little cat’s head. “You’re safe now,” he murmured reassuringly. “From now on, I will be your father.”
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Cherith Baldry
KEEP WATCH FOR
The mountain cats have begun to settle in their new home, but tensions are rising between Clear Sky and Gray Wing—and Thunder is caught in the middle.