“This place is yucky!” Owl Eyes announced. “I don’t like it here.”
Jackdaw’s Cry gave him a gentle cuff over one ear. “It’s your own fault for running away from Jagged Peak,” he meowed. “What were you told about not leaving camp? You can’t ignore Gray Wing’s orders like that, especially when he is our leader, and the most respected cat in camp.”
Even though Gray Wing knew that Jackdaw’s Cry was trying to make him feel better, guilt gnawed at him even more deeply. Respect? I don’t deserve that! But he had the sense to stay silent and not reveal to Owl Eyes how bad he was feeling.
“It was just a bit of fun!” Owl Eyes protested. “And I did catch a vole.”
“Fun!” Jackdaw’s Cry exclaimed. “You bee-brained kit, you—”
“That’s enough, both of you,” Gray Wing interrupted. “We need to decide which of these tunnels is best,” he went on, gesturing with his tail toward the exits from the cave. I can’t wait to get out. This damp air is making my chest hurt even more.
But as he led the way across the cave to the nearest tunnel, there was movement inside it. Gray Wing stared as an animal paused in the entrance. It had black fur with a white stripe down the middle of its narrow head, a wet nose, bright beady eyes and small ears. Its short legs ended in powerful, blunt claws.
Gray Wing froze with a mixture of fear and curiosity. “What’s that?” he whispered.
“It’s called a badger,” Tall Shadow replied in a no-nonsense tone. “I remember Shaded Moss telling me about them. He said they live in groups like us, and they’re really fierce.”
And we just walked into its den, Gray Wing realized. Struggling to think clearly, he could see that they only had one advantage: speed. This great hulking creature couldn’t possibly move as fast as a cat. We’re trapped down here—but we have to try to get away.
The badger heaved itself out of the tunnel and reared up in front of the cats, opening its jaws to show huge yellow teeth.
“Run!” Gray Wing screeched.
Making sure that Owl Eyes was following, he raced for the next exit tunnel and plunged into it. Almost at once he realized that he had made a mistake. They could only go as fast as his breathing would allow, and that wasn’t as fast as he would like.
I should have let the others go first. I could have faced the badger while they escaped.
But it was too late now. The tunnel was so narrow that the other cats couldn’t get past him.
Thankfully he realized that after the first few tail-lengths the tunnel opened up into a network with connecting tunnels on either side. Gray Wing twisted and turned, hoping to lose the pursuing badger. More chinks in the roof let in enough light for him to see his way.
Gray Wing hesitated at a screech of pain behind him, followed by the sound of a scuffle. Some cat is injured! But there was no way he could get back to help; he had to go on.
At last Gray Wing spotted an irregular patch of light ahead of him and realized that they had found the way out. He forced a last burst of speed from his paws and tumbled into the open.
The heavy rain had turned into a thin drizzle. Through it Gray Wing saw that they were close to the edge of the forest. One of the outlying trees was a few tail-lengths away. Checking with a swift glance to make sure all his cats were following, he hurled himself at the tree and clawed his way up the trunk until he could crouch trembling on a branch, his breath coming in great gasps. His denmates joined him and shrank back into the cover of the leaves.
Gray Wing gazed down and saw the badger thrust its striped snout out of the tunnel mouth. It raked the surroundings with a glance from its small, malignant eyes, then let out a grunt and withdrew underground.
Tall Shadow let out a gasp of relief. “It’s gone!”
“Owl Eyes, are you okay?” Gray Wing asked.
The kit was pressing close to him, shaking with fear. Gray Wing spotted a scratch down one of his back legs; it was slowly oozing blood. “You’re hurt!” he exclaimed. “It was you I heard back there.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Owl Eyes mewed bravely, though his teeth were chattering.
Jackdaw’s Cry flexed his claws. “I gave the badger something to think about.”
Gray Wing could hardly believe that the kit had been injured while he was still so young. It’s my fault, he thought despairingly. What sort of leader am I, when I can’t even protect my own kit?
The last of the rain stopped and the clouds began to clear. Gray Wing could see the sun dipping toward the horizon.
“I don’t think the badger’s coming back,” he meowed. “We’d better get back to camp. If we’re out here after dark, we’ll be in more trouble.”
Tall Shadow was first to jump out of the tree; she took the lead as the cats headed back across the moor. Gray Wing and Owl Eyes brought up the rear, Gray Wing still struggling for breath and Owl Eyes limping from his scratch.
“I’m sorry,” Owl Eyes murmured, blinking apologetically at Gray Wing. “I shouldn’t have left the camp on my own like that.”
Gray Wing twitched his ears to acknowledge the kit’s words, but he didn’t have any energy left to speak.
He looked up and saw the shape of Highstones outlined against the setting sun. It reminded him of his own more distant mountains. If only I had Stoneteller here to guide me, he thought. But she’s so far away. She can’t help me now.
As Gray Wing reached the top of the hollow, he saw his denmates huddled together in the middle of the camp, exchanging anxious meows. Then Rainswept Flower looked up and spotted them.
“They’re back!” she yowled.
Instantly Turtle Tail raced up the slope, flinging herself at Owl Eyes and covering him with licks. “I’m so angry with you!” she mewed. “What were you thinking, going off on your own like that? And you’re hurt!”
“I caught a vole,” Owl Eyes announced proudly.
“I don’t want to hear about it!”
Turtle Tail nosed her son down into the hollow, and the other cats followed, while their denmates crowded around, questioning them about what had happened. Gray Wing was still having trouble breathing, so he sat down and let Tall Shadow tell the story.
He noticed Jagged Peak wincing at the mention of their frantic scramble up the tree, and knew that the young cat must be remembering his own injury.
Pebble Heart and Sparrow Fur rushed up to their brother, burying their noses in his fur. Spotting the wound the badger had given Owl Eyes, Pebble Heart began licking it vigorously.
“This will help stop an infection,” he declared confidently between licks. “You have to keep wounds clean.”
“How do you know that?” Owl Eyes asked.
“Cloud Spots told me,” the little tom replied. “He’s teaching me all about herbs, too. He says when I’m bigger he’ll take me to gather herbs with him and Dappled Pelt.”
Meanwhile Gray Wing realized that Turtle Tail was giving him a long, hard glance. “How could you have allowed this to happen?” she asked. “That badger could have killed our son.”
“Me?” Gray Wing found himself forgetting his vow never to quarrel with Turtle Tail. “How is it my fault? I went to rescue him! If Owl Eyes hadn’t been so disobedient . . .” His voice trailed off. His chest felt tighter than ever and he found it hard to breathe. He felt himself swaying; the air sparkled in front of his eyes.
“That’s it!” Turtle Tail snapped. Through the glitter Gray Wing saw her turn to the rest of the cats, and her voice rose above their anxious murmurings. “Look at Gray Wing! Can you see how he can barely sit upright? Can you all hear the breath rattling in his chest? He’s ill—seriously ill. Am I the only cat with eyes in my head?” Her tail lashed furiously as she glared at the rest of the group. “If Gray Wing won’t face up to the truth, I will,” she went on. “He needs time to recover. He can’t lead this group of cats anymore. He can’t . . .”
A roaring like a gale sweeping through the forest rose in Gray Wing’s ears, until he could no longer h
ear Turtle Tail’s words. His vision began to fade, and he was faintly aware of his body collapsing to the ground.
The world shrank to a tiny dot of light and then winked out.
CHAPTER 23
Thunder padded through the undergrowth, following Frost and Petal as they patrolled the boundaries of Clear Sky’s territory. Clouds covered the patches of sky he could see through the trees. The air was damp and chilly, and the ground soggy underpaw; he winced at the cold touch of water on his pads.
He felt more comfortable with Frost and Petal than with most of Clear Sky’s other cats. But the other cats’ caution had had an effect on Thunder—now he didn’t know who to trust, either.
He couldn’t help feeling sorry for Frost, who was still limping from when he trod on a burning branch during the forest fire. The injury wasn’t healing as it should, and there was always a layer of pain in the white tom’s eyes.
As they did so often now, Thunder’s thoughts strayed back to the camp on the moor and his life with Gray Wing. What would he think if he could see me now? The borders made Clear Sky’s group feel safe and guarded, but Thunder knew how uncomfortable Gray Wing was with these perpetual patrols, and that he thought there was no need to be so rigid about where cats were allowed to hunt.
He had heard stories about Petal’s brother, Fox, who had attacked Gray Wing for trespassing. Gray Wing had defended himself, and Fox had died in the fight. I’m sure Gray Wing wouldn’t have wanted that to happen, Thunder thought.
He felt a sudden impulse to question Petal and Frost about that fight, but he realized how stupid that would be. It’s none of my business. I’d probably get my fur clawed off.
Frost, who was in the lead, halted suddenly at the sound of a scuffling in the undergrowth. Thunder’s pelt began to prickle as he picked up the scent of a strange cat. He thought he ought to recognize it, but he couldn’t remember when he had smelled it before.
“Come out!” Petal called sternly. “We know you’re there.”
There was a moment’s pause before the fern fronds in front of the three cats parted and a skinny tortoiseshell cat stumbled out.
“Bumble!” Thunder exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you a kittypet? Shouldn’t you be with your Twolegs?”
“You know this cat?” Petal snapped, looking suspiciously at Thunder.
Oh, mouse dung . . . now she thinks I’m friends with kittypets! “Er . . . she just came to our camp on the moor once,” Thunder replied.
“I’m not a kittypet—not anymore.” Bumble drew herself up proudly. “I told the moorland cats that I wasn’t going back to the Twolegplace, and I didn’t. I really didn’t. I’m a wild cat now.”
Thunder couldn’t help noticing that Bumble was much thinner than when she came to the moorland camp to ask to live there. Her ribs were showing, and for all her proud words, the look in her eyes was desperate. And she seemed a bit too insistent that she hadn’t gone back to the Twolegplace. Is she trying to convince us that she’s wild now . . . or herself? Thunder wondered.
“Wild or not,” Petal mewed tartly, “you can’t be here.”
“That’s right,” Frost added. “You’re trespassing. This is Clear Sky’s territory.”
Bumble hesitated, glancing indignantly from Frost to Petal and back again. “I can go where I want,” she responded, but there was a betraying quiver in her voice.
Frost didn’t reply in words, just slid out his claws and took a threatening step forward. Bumble stood up to him for a couple of heartbeats more, trying to puff her chest out bravely, but when Petal snarled she whipped around and fled.
“Get out and stay out!” Frost yowled as he and Petal raced after her.
Thunder stayed where he was as the other three cats vanished into the undergrowth. For a moment he tracked them by waving fern fronds and a bird that rocketed upward with a shrill alarm call; then all was silent.
I hope they don’t hurt her, he thought apprehensively. Why can’t they just let her go?
A faint, mournful wail drifted to Thunder’s ears, and he recognized Bumble’s voice. It didn’t sound as if she was injured, just frightened and hurt by the cats’ rejection of her.
Moments later, Frost and Petal reappeared. “We won’t have any more trouble from her,” Frost meowed with a satisfied whisk of his tail.
“Right,” Petal agreed. “She’s just a confused kittypet, that’s all; it’s not like she’s going to catch anything. The sooner she goes back to her Twolegs, the better off she’ll be.”
But Thunder couldn’t shake off his anxiety. Bumble is so thin now! “Maybe we could have helped her,” he murmured half to himself.
Petal let out a contemptuous snort. “No cat helped me or my brother when our mother died. We were only kits then.”
“That must have felt very lonely,” Thunder mewed.
Petal’s eyes hardened. “It was lonely, until Clear Sky rescued us. I’ll never stop being grateful for his help. And if supporting him means defending the boundaries with every tooth and claw I’ve got, then that’s what I’ll do. I owe Clear Sky.”
“Let’s keep going,” Frost grunted.
As they headed farther along the border, the clouds began to clear away and the sun peeped through. It was already beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting a reddish light into the forest.
“We’d better get a move on,” Petal murmured, excitement creeping into her voice. “Clear Sky will be starting his meeting soon, and we have to be back in camp.”
Frost’s eyes gleamed. “Yeah, no way I’m missing that. Hey, Thunder, do you know what it’s all about?”
Thunder shook his head. The first he had heard about the meeting was when Clear Sky had announced it that morning.
“Oh, come on,” Petal urged him. “You’re Clear Sky’s son. He must have told you something.”
“No, sorry, he didn’t,” Thunder responded, feeling slightly disappointed that his father hadn’t seen fit to confide in him. “He doesn’t share his secrets with me. We’ll all find out in good time.”
Petal rolled her eyes as if she didn’t entirely believe him, but didn’t question him any further. “What do you think Clear Sky is planning?” she asked Frost.
“Maybe he wants us to expand our boundaries,” Frost suggested. “Wouldn’t it be great to get as far as that hollow with the four oak trees?”
Thunder was horrified. That’s too far away! How would we ever defend that much territory? And what about all the cats who hunt there now? What would they do? But he was careful to hide his reaction from Frost and Petal.
“I don’t think so,” Petal meowed, to Thunder’s relief. “I think it’s more likely that Clear Sky wants to give certain cats more responsibilities.”
“Hmm . . . maybe.” Frost sounded dubious. “Which of us, do you think?”
Petal’s gaze grew calculating, and Thunder guessed she was considering the possibilities. “Falling Feather and Quick Water have been with Clear Sky from the beginning,” she began. “But Quick Water is such a scaredy-mouse! Always moaning about getting her paws wet. Falling Feather’s okay, I suppose, but there’s nothing special about her.”
“Maybe Leaf,” Frost suggested. “He’s a good hunter.”
“You think?” Petal twitched her whiskers dismissively. “I think he couldn’t catch a squirrel if it leaped into his paws.”
“Yeah, and if it comes to a fight I can beat him, no problem,” Frost meowed. “You know, if Clear Sky is going to pick some cat, you and I have a good chance, better than those useless furballs.”
Thunder couldn’t stand this any longer. “Is that really the way you talk about your denmates?” he asked, shocked.
Frost and Petal both halted and gazed at Thunder with surprise in their eyes.
“Where have you been living for the last two moons?” Frost asked. “Hasn’t your father taught you anything? Every cat knows that we all have our place in the camp, and that place depends on how much Clear Sky likes us. He made it
quite clear from when he first moved into the forest—his opinion is final.”
Thunder shook his head, completely bewildered. “I thought—”
“He doesn’t need to understand all that,” Petal interrupted with a spiteful note in her voice. “As Clear Sky’s own son, he goes straight to the top.”
When she finished speaking, there was a flicker of movement just ahead, and a mouse appeared from the shelter of a dead leaf. Without waiting for Thunder to respond, Petal hurtled off to chase it.
Which cat named her “Petal”? Thunder wondered. There’s nothing soft about her. Coming to the end of the patrol, the cats set out back toward the camp. Thunder brought up the rear, not wanting to listen to Frost and Petal talking anymore. He had only taken a few paw steps when he heard a faint rustle behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted yellow eyes peering out from under a bush. A heartbeat later the cat emerged: a she-cat with a wiry brown pelt who crossed the border without hesitation and stood with her ears pricked and her jaws open as if she was searching for prey.
Wind!
Thunder realized that the she-cat hadn’t noticed him; he was partly screened from her by the edge of a bramble thicket. He knew that he ought to chase her off, but he remembered how friendly and helpful she had been to the moorland cats. He didn’t want to turn her into an enemy.
Hesitating with one paw frozen in midair, Thunder hoped that Wind would just stroll away again, and there would be no reason for a scene.
Frost and Petal won’t take her trespassing as lightly as they did Bumble’s. And she won’t be as easy to scare off.
Before Thunder could make his mind up, Frost dashed ahead, shouldering him out of the way, and confronted Wind. “Get out of here!” he snarled.
For all his bravado, Thunder could see that Frost was wincing from the pain of his wound. He’d do better to be kinder to other cats, he thought. He’s not exactly ready for a fight.