A Forest Divided (19 page)

“If Gray Wing is missing,” Quiet Rain growled, “you must find him. I came here to see my kin.”

Thunder saw Tall Shadow staring at the she-cat.
Please don't fight,
he willed them both.
Quiet Rain is just a concerned mother, that's all.
The mountain cat was also tired and hungry, and
carrying a wound that looked painful.

And there was still more grief for the old cat to face.

Tall Shadow seemed to come to the same conclusion as Thunder. She turned to face him.

“Find Gray Wing, please.”

Wind tugged Gray Wing's fur. Clouds,
heavy with snow, were pushing over Highstones, yellowing the pale blue sky. They'd reach the moor by nightfall.

A shrew dangled by its thin tail from Gray Wing's jaws. Ahead of him, Gorse Fur ducked into the heather, Minnow just behind him. Gorse Fur had only a vole. Minnow's lapwing had been half-dead from hunger when she caught it. There wouldn't be much flesh on its bones.

Gray Wing wondered whether to stay out longer. If snow was coming, the prey pile should be high. But what was the point? They'd hunted half the day for this meager catch.

Gray Wing followed the others along the sheltered trail that led to Wind Runner's camp. He'd hoped to bring back a rabbit, but the rabbits were hidden deep in their burrows. They must have smelled the snow before he did.

Mews sounded along the heather tunnel.

“Gorse Fur!”

“Minnow!”

Gray Wing glimpsed Dust Muzzle pushing alongside Gorse Fur.

“Can I carry your vole?” the young tom begged.

“What did you catch?” Moth Flight stopped in front of Gray Wing. The excitement in her gaze faded as she spotted the shrew. “No rabbits?”

Gray Wing shook his head sadly and nudged her along the trail until they popped out into the sheltered clearing.

Wind Runner was pacing the far end, her gaze flicking toward the thickening clouds.

Reed stood near her, sniffing Slate's injured ear. The fox bite had healed quickly in the days since the attack, but Reed was still careful to keep checking for any sign of sourness in the wound.

Gray Wing dropped his shrew. “Is Slate okay?” he called to the silver tabby.

“Her ear will be fully healed in another quarter moon,” Reed answered.

Slate ducked away from him. “I wish the fox had torn out a lump of fur instead.” She shook out her pelt irritably. “At least fur grows back.”

“Gray Wing, can I put your shrew on the prey pile?” Moth Flight's mew snapped him from his thoughts.

“Yes.” He glanced at the empty patch of grass. Dust Muzzle was already dragging Gorse Fur's vole toward it. Minnow padded past him and dropped her scrawny lapwing. Moth Flight grabbed Gray Wing's shrew and raced over to place it on top.

Gray Wing was glad he could help the moor cats hunt. But he felt guilt pricking his belly. Surely his campmates in the pine forest needed help too?

Gray Wing's not as fast as he used to be.
Jagged Peak's words rang in his ears, and once more he remembered his argument with his brother and Tall Shadow.

You've been giving orders since you came back to camp!
Did Tall Shadow really believe that? Perhaps he should return to clear the air. And yet it still rankled that he'd been accused of being weak
and
of trying to take over as leader.
Make up your minds!
Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak seemed ready to criticize everything he did. Here on the moor, he was accepted as he was. Wind Runner was grateful for the prey that he caught. Slate seemed to enjoy his company, settling down beside him each night so they could talk before they slept and shared their warmth. And, away from the dampness of the forest, his breathing had eased. He felt as though the wind had reached deep into every part of him: he could run faster, breathe more deeply, and sleep more soundly.

Pebble Heart would be worried about him, though. Now that Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes had moved to Clear Sky's camp, the young tom must feel alone.
And I miss him.
Gray Wing's chest tightened as he remembered Pebble Heart's soft, solemn gaze.

I should go home.

Slate crossed the clearing toward him. Her thick gray fur rippled as she walked.

Maybe tomorrow.

“Was that all there was?” Slate nodded toward the prey pile.

Gray Wing met her gaze apologetically. “We were lucky to
find that. Snow's coming, and most of the prey has taken to its nests.”

Slate sighed. “Just when we need it most.”

“I'll go out again later,” Gray Wing offered.

“I'll come with you.”

“We could try the tunnels.” Gray Wing hadn't ventured underground yet. He'd never shared Acorn Fur's love of hunting in the dark. But they might unearth a rabbit's nest.

Slate's eyes glittered with unease. “I've never hunted underground.”

“We won't go deep,” Gray Wing promised. His gaze snagged the scoop in her ear where the fox had ripped off the tip. A dark scab edged it.

Slate dropped her gaze. “How bad is it?”

“You look a bit like an owl,” Gray Wing teased.

Slate lifted her muzzle sharply. “At least I can still hear.” She stared pointedly at Gray Wing's ears. “It's a wonder you hear anything at all. You have so much fluff in your ears, I'm surprised mice don't make nests in them.”

Gray Wing nudged her playfully and she began to purr.

“Wind Runner!” Dust Muzzle's anxious mew sounded across the clearing. “I can hear paw steps.”

Reed tasted the air, his muzzle high. “A forest cat's heading this way.”

Fur bristled along Gorse Fur's spine. Wind Runner padded cautiously toward the camp entrance.

Minnow dropped into a defensive crouch. “Can you tell who it is?”

Gray Wing opened his mouth and let the breeze bathe his tongue. He recognized the scent at once. “It's Thunder.”

Wind Runner pricked her ears. “What's he doing on the moor?”

Gorse Fur narrowed his eyes. “I thought I smelled his scent while we were out hunting.”

Minnow nodded. “Me too. Near the four trees. And I smelled more than one cat.”

Wind Runner blinked at the gray-and-white she-cat. “Rogues?”

Minnow shrugged. “They smelled strange.”

The heather shivered as paw steps headed along the tunnel. Thunder poked his head into the camp. “May I come in?” He glanced at Wind Runner.

Wind Runner dipped her head. “You are welcome.”

Thunder slid out from the heather, his orange-and-white pelt bright against gray leaf-bare branches. “Gray Wing! You're
here
!” His eyes lit up. “I've been tracking your scent.”

Gray Wing tipped his head. “Why?” Surely his own campmates should have been hunting for him, rather than Thunder.

“Tall Shadow sent me.”

Gray Wing shifted his paws, feeling suddenly guilty. “Is she okay?”

Worry sparked in Thunder's gaze. A chill ran down Gray Wing's spine.
Slash!
Had he attacked the camp? He'd assumed that Fern's plan to distract the vicious rogue had worked.

“She's fine.” Thunder's tail twitched. “Everyone's fine.”

“Then why did Tall Shadow send you?” Gray Wing frowned, puzzled.

“I found some strangers in the forest,” Thunder explained hesitantly. “They were looking for Tall Shadow, so I took them to her camp.”

Gray Wing leaned forward, curiosity pricking his pelt. Why did Thunder seem so wary?
“Strangers?”

“They want to see you.”

Slate shifted beside Gray Wing, her pelt bristling. “Who are these strangers?”

Wind Runner tipped her head. “Where are they from?”

Thunder stared at Gray Wing. “They're from the mountains.”

“The
mountains
?” Gray Wing's thoughts whirled. Had the Tribe followed the Sun Trail? He remembered his dream of the empty cave behind the waterfall.
But they wanted to stay among the peaks.
Had something terrible happened to drive them from their home?

Thunder lowered his voice. “It's Quiet Rain.”

My mother!
Gray Wing's heart quickened. The journey from the mountains had been difficult for the young and healthy cat he used to be—Quiet Rain would surely have found it even more trying. “Is she okay?”

“She's weak and hungry, and carries a wound, but Pebble Heart is taking care of her,” Thunder told him. “She came with a cat named Sun Shadow.”

“Moon Shadow's son . . .” Anxiety fluttered in Gray Wing's
belly. What was she doing here? “I must go to her,” he meowed, heading for the heather tunnel.

“Wait!” Slate called. “Who's Quiet Rain?”

Gray Wing glanced back at her. “She's my mother!” Why hadn't he been in the forest to greet her? He shouldn't be here on the moor. He had duties and responsibilities at home. As he shouldered his way through the heather tunnel and burst out onto the grass beyond, he felt his breathing shorten. His heart pounded in his ears.

“Wait for me!” Paws thrummed behind him as he raced across the moor.

Thunder caught up with him, panting. “Slow down!” he puffed. “She's not going anywhere.”

“I should have been there.” Gray Wing struggled to speak, fighting for breath.

Thunder swerved across his path. “There's no use getting there so out of breath that you can't even speak to her.”

Gray Wing halted. “You're right.” His chest wheezed as he spoke.

“Let's walk.” Thunder fell in beside him.

Tiny flakes of snow spiraled from the sky as dusk fell. There would be snowfall by morning.

Padding slowly, Gray Wing let his fur smooth, relaxing until his breath began to ease. “Is Quiet Rain's wound dangerous?”

“I don't know,” Thunder answered. “Pebble Heart says it will take a while to heal.”

“Is Clear Sky with her now?” If Thunder had found Quiet
Rain and Sun Shadow in the forest, he must have taken them back to Clear Sky's camp first.

Thunder kept his gaze fixed ahead. “No.”

“He didn't travel to Tall Shadow's camp with her?”

“He doesn't know she's here.”

Gray Wing frowned, puzzled. “But
you
know?”

“I took them straight to Tall Shadow.”

Gray Wing could hear stiffness in Thunder's voice. Something was wrong. “Why not take them to Clear Sky?”

“We argued,” Thunder mewed softly. “I left Clear Sky's camp days ago. I've set up my own.”

Gray Wing's heart sank. Would Clear Sky and Thunder ever reconcile? Before he could ask, Thunder changed the subject.

“Tall Shadow says that Sun Shadow looks exactly like his father.” He lowered his voice. “I told him Moon Shadow had died.”

Gray Wing glanced at him. “That must have been hard, for you and him.”

“He was looking forward to knowing his father.” Was that bitterness in Thunder's mew? “They know about Bright Stream too, but Tall Shadow didn't want to tell them anything more. Not until your mother is stronger.”

Gray Wing glanced across the moor toward the four trees hollow, where the graves of so many of their friends lay. What would Quiet Rain say when she found out? He slowed, suddenly realizing how much news there was to share with her and how little of it was good.

What will she say when she finds out how we've fought among ourselves?
As worry wormed beneath his pelt, his forepaw scuffed a hard vine in the grass. Pain shot through his leg as the vine tightened around it. Instinctively he tried to tug himself free, but the vine gripped harder, digging into his flesh.

Thunder leaped back, fur on end. “What's wrong?”

“Something's caught me!” Panic flashed through Gray Wing, spiraling as he tried to pull his paw free. Pain scorched up his leg as the vine snared it harder.

“Hold still!” Thunder darted forward, examining his paw. “It looks like a vine from a Twoleg fence.”

Gray Wing could smell blood and looked down to see the fur darken around his paw.

Thunder sniffed along the thin tendril. “It's tied to a stick.”

Gray Wing fought against the blinding pain as Thunder gripped the stick between his jaws and tried to haul it from the ground.

He groaned with effort, then fell away, growling. “It's stuck fast. I can't move it.”

Gray Wing saw him glance warily across the moor. He guessed what Thunder was thinking. “Foxes will smell my blood.”
And come looking for an easy meal.
Fear hollowed his belly.
I'm trapped like prey!