“We’ve said all we need to say,” Gray Wing said, eyeing Wind Runner warily.
She fluffed out her fur. “I guess we might as well head for our nests. We’ll only freeze standing here.”
River Ripple licked his lips. “There’s a trout waiting for me back at camp.”
Dappled Pelt purred. “If the kits haven’t eaten it. They like fish more than mouse now.”
The cats began to head for the slopes. Clear Sky followed Blossom toward the edge of the clearing.
“Clear Sky?” Thunder called.
Clear Sky paused, puzzled, and looked over his shoulder.
Thunder was staring at him hopefully from the center while the others disappeared into the bracken.
“Go ahead without me.” Clear Sky nodded to Blossom. “Check on Star Flower and the kits and tell them I won’t be long.” Leaf nodded and ran off, and Clear Sky headed toward Thunder, curiosity pricking in his pelt. “What is it?”
Thunder’s eyes were dark. “I just wanted to warn you.”
Clear Sky stiffened.
“Red brought the pack of dogs into the rogues’ camp.” Thunder blinked at him.
Clear Sky’s heart quickened. Were Quick Water and Nettle right? “On purpose?”
“No. But it was a pretty dangerous mistake.” Thunder glanced anxiously toward the forest at the top of the slope. “Just keep an eye on him.”
Clear Sky shivered. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Thunder glanced away. “I’m not trying to stir up trouble.”
“Why would I think that?” Clear Sky blinked in surprise.
“We don’t always trust the same cats.” Thunder was avoiding his gaze.
Guilt jabbed Clear Sky’s belly. Thunder had once warned him not to trust Star Flower—though he’d had good reason. Star Flower had broken the young tom’s heart. Still, Clear Sky had lashed out at him. “We’ve had our differences,” he admitted. “But that’s been my fault. I should have been a better father to you.” He waited for Thunder to meet his gaze before going on. “My new kits have made me realize how much I failed you.”
“You didn’t fail me,” Thunder mumbled. “I guess I just wasn’t the son you wanted.”
“That’s not true!” Clear Sky’s mew thickened. He knew now with absolute clarity that Thunder had never been the problem. I was the one who was difficult. “I was just too thickheaded to realize how special you are. I’m proud of the cat you’ve become. I’m proud you’re my son, and I’m sorry I missed the chance to be a proper father to you.”
“Well, you can make up for that with your new family.” There was bitterness in Thunder’s mew.
“I love my new family,” Clear Sly admitted. “But they have helped me realize how much I love you. I’m just sorry I couldn’t show you that in the past.” He leaned closer to Thunder. “But I hope you will always come to me if you need help. I hope you will share your joy and worries with me, whatever they are. It’s too late for me to be the father you should have had. But I hope that one day I can become as important to you as Gray Wing.”
Wariness glimmered in Thunder’s gaze. For a moment, Clear Sky thought the young tom was going to tell him something meaningful. But Thunder just shrugged again.
“Thanks, Clear Sky,” he murmured, and turned away.
Clear Sky watched him head for the slope and duck into the bracken. He realized that Thunder wasn’t ready to confide in him. He might never be ready. Why should he be? Grief tugged at Clear Sky’s heart. He’d let his firstborn son down, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never make up for the precious moons he’d wasted. He headed toward his forest. He had failed with Thunder, but he was determined he would never let his new family down. They would always know that he loved them more than he loved his own life.
CHAPTER 16
Gray Wing dreamed.
Pine needles crunched beneath his paws. Smooth straight trunks loomed around him and disappeared into shadow on every side. The pungent scent of sap filled his nose. He glanced up. Darkness hid the treetops. His chest tightened. What am I doing here? The shadows closed in, pressing closer. Where’s the moor? He tasted the air, anxiety sparking in his belly. I need to get home. Slate’s kits were due any day. He began to wheeze as darkness enveloped him. He blinked, straining to see, struggling to breathe. Where was Slate? Where were his campmates? Why was he here alone?
Suddenly, light pierced the darkness. Starry figures were moving through the trees at the edge of his vision. He spun around, struggling for breath as he tried to see them properly. Were the ghost cats here? Had they come to share with him? “Turtle Tail?” he called through the darkness toward a distant shape shimmering with starlight. The shape flitted out of sight. “Jackdaw’s Cry? Is that you?” A sparkling tom flashed in the distance then disappeared. “Are you hiding?” Frustration itched beneath Gray Wing’s pelt. He heard murmuring mews and twisted each time he spotted a flash of starlight, always too late to see who it was. “What do you want?” His heart pounded as he gasped for breath. The murmuring faded, and the darkness eased. Light showed ahead, the soft rosy light of dawn.
“Gray Wing!” Slate’s agonized cry echoed through the trees. “Help me.”
“Where are you?” Gray Wing began to run, heading for the light. Wheezing, he zigzagged between the trees. “I’m coming, Slate!” If only he could get clear of this forest, he could find her. I just hope my breath lasts.
“Gray Wing!”
He jerked awake, pushing himself blearily onto his forepaws. Blinking, he saw his den walls, washed in the gray light of early morning. Relief washed over his pelt as his chest loosened and he drew in a deep breath.
Slate moved against him. “Gray Wing.” Her mew was hard with pain. “The kits are coming.”
He looked down. She lay panting beside him, her swollen belly resting against his flank. He stared at her, unsure what to do.
“Get Reed!” Slate growled. “Hurry!”
Gray Wing darted to the entrance and crossed the clearing in a few bounds. “Reed?” He poked his head into the tom’s den.
Reed was curled around Minnow, his eyes closed.
“Reed!” Gray Wing called louder.
Reed lifted his head and blinked into the light. “What?”
“The kits are coming!” Gray Wing told him.
Minnow sat up sharply. “I’ll fetch Wind Runner. She’s had more experience.”
Gray Wing blinked at her, remembering how their leader had helped at Star Flower’s kitting. As Minnow slid past him, he stared at Reed. “Have you helped at a kitting before?”
“When I was a rogue.” Reed’s gaze darkened ominously.
Gray Wing stiffened. “What happened?”
“The kits were fine.” Reed nosed past him, avoiding his gaze. “But the queen died.”
Gray Wing’s heart lurched as he hurried after the silver tabby “Why? How?”
“She was sick before she had the kits.” Reed turned to meet Gray Wing’s gaze. “Slate’s as healthy as a hawk. She’ll be fine.” He raced across the clearing.
Gray Wing tried to calm his racing heart, remembering Turtle Tail’s kitting. He’d arrived after the kits were born and still remembered his panic as though it was yesterday. He forced his fur flat. When he got anxious, his breathing got worse. He couldn’t afford to be slowed down. Slate needed him. But what if he lost her? What if something happened to the kits? Suddenly he understood the desperation Clear Sky must have felt when Star Flower had been kidnapped.
Paws pounded across the clearing. Wind Runner whipped past him and disappeared into the den after Reed.
Gray Wing pushed his head inside. The two cats were crouching beside Slate, who lay on her side, her round flanks heaving.
“Everything will be fine,” Wind Runner told her.
“We’ve both delivered kits before,” Reed added.
“It’s the simplest thing in the world,” Wind Runner purred. “Countless queens have kitted for countless moons.?
??
Gray Wing tensed as he saw pain cloud Slate’s gaze. “She’s suffering!” he gasped.
Wind Runner turned and blinked at him slowly. “Wait outside, Gray Wing.”
“But—”
“You’ll be little help here,” she insisted.
“But I want to be with her.” Gray Wing stared at the group leader.
“Go and pace the clearing,” Reed told him. “Get as much fresh air into your chest as you can. Once it’s over, you’re going to need your breath to greet your new kits.”
Slate groaned, her paws quivering.
“The first kit’s on its way.” Wind Runner jerked her nose toward Gray Wing. “Wait outside!”
Obediently, Gray Wing backed out of the den. Every instinct told him to barge inside and crouch beside Slate. But Reed was right. He needed fresh air and a chance to calm himself. Unable to stand still, he padded between the tussocks. The fresh moor wind lifted his fur. There was a chill in it, and he glanced toward the horizon. Pale blue sky shaded into pink where the sun was pushing up from beyond the trees. Cold weather was coming.
“Gray Wing?” Fern bounded toward him. “Minnow says the kits are coming.” She glanced toward his den.
Gray Wing nodded. Cats were stirring around the camp. Gorse Fur blinked from his den. Dust Muzzle and Moth Flight stretched in a thin patch of sunlight beside the tall rock. Spotted Fur pawed through the remains of the prey pile while Bee watched him, her eyes narrowed. Was that scorn in the rogue she-cat’s gaze?
Fern interrupted his thoughts. “Do you want toms or she-kits?” Her eyes were bright with excitement.
Gray Wing stared at her blankly. “I hadn’t thought about it.” Any kits would be wonderful.
“Willow says that kits born in leaf-bare are the strongest.” Fern lifted her tail. “I was born in leaf-bare.”
Gray Wing could hardly concentrate on her chatter, but it was good to see the young she-cat so cheerful. She’d been mourning Beech since her death, and though she’d eagerly joined in with camp duties, there had been slowness in her step and sadness in her eyes. This morning, she seemed truly happy for the first time since he’d known her. Her pelt was sleek, and lean muscle hid the bones that had once jutted out beneath her fur. “Life on the moor seems to suit you,” he told her.
Fern purred. “I love living here. Being part of your group is so different from living in Slash’s camp. Everyone is so kind, and Wind Runner is so wise.” She paused. “But sometimes I see her looking at me like she doesn’t trust me.” Her gaze darkened. “Have I done something wrong?”
Gray Wing felt a prick of sympathy for Fern. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Wind Runner will take time to learn to trust you. But once she does, she’ll be as loyal as your own mother.”
Fern looked away. “My mother abandoned me and Beech.”
“Is that how you ended up with Slash?”
Fern didn’t answer, her tail drooping.
Gray Wing moved on, guilty that he’d awoken bad memories. “Well, you’re here now. We’re your new family.”
“Willow’s, too?” Fern glanced at the pale tabby she-cat as she emerged sleepily from her den. “And Bee’s?”
“Of course.” Gray Wing lowered his voice as he eyed the yellow-and-black-striped she-cat. She was still watching Spotted Fur disdainfully as he gnawed on a stale shrew. “But you need to persuade Bee to volunteer for more camp duties. We all have to help patrol and hunt.”
Fern shifted her paws uneasily. “I’ll try,” she promised. “But Bee says she doesn’t—”
“Gray Wing!” Wind Runner interrupted the young she-cat. “Come and see your kits.”
“Already?” Excitement fizzed through his pelt. He hurried across the clearing and dived into his den.
Slate lay in her nest and blinked at him through the half-light. Her eyes glistened with joy. Gray Wing met her gaze, his heart swelling with love. Then he glanced along her flank. Three tiny kits suckled at her belly. He padded closer, sniffing them one by one. A dark gray tom-kit pushed against his pale gray tabby sister. Beside her, another tom-kit purred loudly, his black-and-white pelt fluffing as it dried.
“They’re beautiful.” A purr swelled in Gray Wing’s throat. Love filled his heart. He was surprised how familiar it felt. He’d expected to feel different about his own kits. With a jolt, he realized how much he’d loved Turtle Tail’s kits, and his heart seemed to flood with joy. I’ve known so much love! He glanced fondly at Slate. “I promise to teach them how to hunt and keep them safe until they are as strong and brave as their mother.”
Her eyes glowed as she returned his gaze. “They are lucky to have you as their father. You’ve raised so many kits, and they’ve all grown into fine cats.”
Wind Runner dipped her head. “We should leave you in peace to get to know your new family.” Leaning down, she lapped Slate’s cheek. “You did well.”
Reed nodded at Gray Wing. “I’ll take a hunting patrol out. Slate will be hungry soon.” The silver tabby padded from the den, Wind Runner at his tail.
Gray Wing settled behind Slate, curling himself around her as she nursed their kits. The air throbbed with their purring, and he joined in until the whole den seemed to resonate with joy.
“Gray Wing?” A soft mew woke him from his doze. He blinked open his eyes and saw Gorse Fur’s face at the den entrance. “Jagged Peak and Tall Shadow have come to see the kits.”
Gray Wing pushed himself to his paws, tucking the moss lining of the nest closer around Slate to keep her warm. The kits were sleeping at her belly while she snored softly. He crept past them and followed Gorse Fur out of the den.
Tiny flecks of snow whisked through the air, too small to settle. Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak stood outside, pine needles caught in their fur. A fat pigeon lay at their paws.
“We brought a gift.” Jagged Peak dipped his head.
Gray Wing fluffed out his pelt, his nose aching in the icy chill. “Thank you.”
“Congratulations!” Tall Shadow purred loudly. She glanced past him. “May I see them?”
“They’re asleep,” Gray Wing warned. “But I’m sure Slate would like to show them off.”
“I’ll try not to disturb them too much,” Tall Shadow promised. She slid into the den.
Jagged Peak stayed beside the pigeon. “We met Reed on the border. He told us Slate had kitted. Tall Shadow says kits are a good omen. She wanted to see them for herself.”
Gray Wing puffed out his chest. “There are three of them.”
“They’ll keep you busy,” Jagged Peak warned him knowingly.
Gray Wing flicked his tail. “Don’t forget I helped raise Pebble Heart, Owl Eyes, and Sparrow Fur. And Thunder.”
“Of course.” Jagged Peak’s whiskers twitched. “You have kits in almost every group.”
Pride warmed Gray Wing’s pelt. He gazed happily at Jagged Peak, nostalgia sweeping over him. “It’s hard to believe that I never wanted to leave the mountains.” He gazed past the gorse camp wall, across the rugged moor, stark beneath the ice-blue sky. “Now I can’t imagine any other home than here.”
“You’re glad you came?” There was worry in Jagged Peak’s mew.
“Of course!” Gray Wing jerked his gaze back to his younger brother.
Jagged Peak looked at his paws. “I always felt guilty that Quiet Rain sent you to find me when I ran away. You wanted to stay with the Tribe. You only followed the others to find me.”
Gray Wing blinked at the gray tom. “I’m glad you ran away,” he meowed earnestly. “If you hadn’t, I’d never have come here and realized how much I loved Turtle Tail . . . or met Slate.” His heart pricked suddenly with regret. “I hope the Tribe is doing okay now. . . .”
“Quiet Water and Sun Shadow said they were still finding prey enough to survive.”
Gray Wing tipped his head. “Life here is more than surviving.” The wind rippled through his fur. “Even though prey has been scarce lately, we know newleaf will bring more than we e
ver had in the mountains, the moor and forest will grow lush once more, and the sun will warm our backs.”
“It is good to be warm,” Jagged Peak agreed. “And to raise kits knowing they won’t starve.”
Gray Wing purred, imagining his own kits racing through the heather, feeling warm wind in their fur and tasting their first mouthfuls of rabbit. “You were such a courageous kit,” he told Jagged Peak. “It was your confidence that led me here. For that I will always be grateful.”
“Really?” Jagged Peak’s eyes glistened softly. “Weren’t you ever angry with me for dragging you into such a dangerous journey?”
“Not once I’d chased my first rabbit,” Gray Wing reassured him. “And tasted my first grouse.” He licked his lips, a sudden ache digging deep into his heart as he remembered sharing that grouse with Turtle Tail. His chest tightened, and a cough gripped him. He crouched, helpless, as it shook his body until he was gasping for breath.
“Gray Wing?” Jagged Peak crouched beside him.
Gray Wing wheezed, trembling as his coughing eased. Drawing in a shuddering breath, he lifted his chin. Why was his breath short? He hadn’t been running. Is it getting worse? Worry nagged in his belly. He sat up, pushing it away. “It’s been an exciting day,” he rasped.
Jagged Peak was staring at him anxiously. “Right.”
Gray Wing straightened, relieved as his chest loosened. I’m not sick, he told himself. I just need to take it easy for a moon or two.
“Wind Runner!” A shocked yowl rang from the moor. Gray Wing straightened. Alarm scorched through his pelt as he recognized Reed’s horrified cry. “Help! Come quickly! Fern is hurt!”
CHAPTER 17
Fern! Gray Wing’s heart lurched. Was the camp under attack? “Guard the kits!” he told Jagged Peak. Dread gripped his belly. To his relief, his chest remained loose.
He raced across the clearing, glancing back toward his den. Nothing must harm my kits. Minnow and Spotted Fur were already haring for the camp entrance, their fur bushed. Moth Flight raced at their heels. She was carrying cobweb between her jaws. The young cat was already planning how to treat Fern’s injuries!