A Forest Divided Page 10

  Had his Tribemates traveled beyond his vision? Were they spirit cats now?

  “Quiet Rain! Snow Hare! Where are you?” His heart lurched as guilt scorched his pelt. He should never have left them. Had they starved without him? “What have I done?”

  Purring rumbled at the back of the cave.

  Hope flashed in Gray Wing’s heart. He peered eagerly into the shadows and caught sight of a tail whipping away into the tunnel.

  He hurried after it, blinking as darkness swallowed him. His paws ached on the freezing stone. His whiskers brushed the walls, and his tail snagged on the jagged roof. “Who’s there?” he called anxiously into the blackness.

  Suddenly, the tunnel opened around him and he emerged into a cave lit by moonlight, which seeped through a hole in the roof. Sharp claws of rock jutted up from the stone floor and down from above. Some touched, like paws meeting, and they glistened as water trickled down them. It pooled on the floor, sending light flickering against the walls.

  An ancient white cat watched him from beyond the pools, her tail twitching softly behind her.

  “Stoneteller?” Gray Wing blinked. Was she all that was left of the Tribe?

  She didn’t answer, but touched one of the pools with a forepaw, sending ripples shivering across its surface.

  Gray Wing padded closer. “I’m so sorry,” he began. “I never stopped to think how the Tribe would survive without us.”

  “Hush.” Stoneteller lifted her green gaze to meet Gray Wing’s. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “But the cave!” Gray Wing wailed. “It’s empty! And it’s my fault. If only I’d stayed—”

  “Gray Wing.” Stoneteller’s mew was firm. “You cannot decide the fate of every cat. You do not hold power like that.”

  “Then why did you bring me here?” Surely it was Stoneteller who had summoned him to see the empty cave. “What’s happened to the Tribe?”

  Stoneteller looked down into the pool as the ripples faded. “All will become clear soon enough,” she murmured. “For now, you must let go of the past. The future is the only thing you can change.”

  A shriek jerked Gray Wing awake. He blinked at the dark valley stretching below him. The mountains beyond Highstones were no more than shadows against the starry night sky.

  The Tribe! He jumped up. Where are they?

  The shriek sounded again. It tugged him from his thoughts.

  The moor was bathed in moonlight, the grass turned white by frost.

  “Back off!” He heard a vicious yowl from beyond a patch of gorse. Gray Wing recognized it at once.

  Slate! He leaped from the stone and charged over the top of the moor, skidding on the grass as he swerved around the gorse.

  Slate was backed against its sharp spines. A fox snapped at her hind legs, then her muzzle, its sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. Slate hissed and shrank deeper against the thorns. Blood darkened her pelt. Eyes blazing, she slashed at the fox’s face with a forepaw, but it dived for her tail.

  She whipped it clear just in time. The fox’s jaws slammed shut on thin air. Yelping with rage, it lunged for her neck.

  “Leave her alone!” Gray Wing plunged forward, pelt bushed. Snarling, he leaped onto its back.

  Caught by surprise, the fox staggered and fell. Gray Wing clung on, digging his foreclaws in hard. He could feel bones through its mangy pelt. Cats were not the only creatures starving on the moor.

  Slate growled. “It tried to take my prey.”

  Gray Wing caught the scent of fresh-kill through the fox’s stench. He turned his gaze to meet Slate’s. The fox bucked beneath him, with far more strength than Gray Wing had expected. Hunger had clearly made it bold—and desperate. It jerked back its muzzle to snap at Gray Wing’s neck. He felt his fur rip. Pain scorched through him. He let go with a shriek and slithered to the ground, struggling to find his paws on the frosty grass.

  The fox turned on him. Its stinking breath bathed Gray Wing’s muzzle as its savage jaws opened for a killing bite. Then fur flashed at the edge of his vision. With a yowl, Slate sent the fox tumbling backward.

  Gray Wing leaped to his paws. Slate and the fox were tumbling over the grass. Muscle thudded on earth as they grappled with each other. The air shivered with their screeching. Gray Wing hurled himself at them as the fox’s jaws clamped shut on Slate’s ear.

  Hissing with rage, he shoved the fox away. He heard Slate shriek in pain, but he was on his hind legs, batting the fox backward, swiping with one paw after another. He felt its fur rip beneath his claws until the fox’s muzzle was wet with blood. The fox’s eyes flashed with anger. With a yelp it turned and fled, streaking across the grass like a shadow.

  Gray Wing turned to Slate. “Are you okay?”

  She sat, her head low, her flanks heaving. “It got my ear.”

  Gray Wing rushed to her side. The tang of blood filled the air. It welled on Slate’s ear, and he could see the tip had been ripped away. “It’ll heal,” he soothed.

  His own pelt felt damp; his neck fur was drenched with his own blood. “Foxes don’t normally fight that hard for prey,” he growled. “I thought it would run when it saw there was two of us.”

  Slate was still panting. “Thanks for coming.” She lifted her head, pain darkening her amber gaze. “But what are you doing on the moor?”

  “I’ll explain later.” Gray Wing was too dazed by the fight to think up a good reason for being here. He couldn’t tell her about Fern—their conversation had to remain a secret while Slash threatened her. If word got out that she’d spoken to him, the vicious rogue might kill her. “Let’s get you back to your camp. You’re bleeding.”

  Slate’s gaze flicked over him. “You’d better come with me. Your neck looks pretty bad. Reed can treat your wounds.”

  “He knows about herbs?” Gray Wing blinked at her.

  “I told you last time I visited.” Slate got stiffly to her paws and nudged him with her muzzle. “You’re getting forgetful in your old age.”

  Gray Wing nudged her back. “Who are you calling old?”

  Slate’s whiskers twitched fondly. “Wait there.” She limped back to the gorse and dragged something out from beneath one of the bushes.

  Grouse.

  Its pungent scent touched his nose as she carried it toward him. Its wings dragged along the ground, and Slate struggled not to trip.

  “Let me help.” Gray Wing fell in beside her and grabbed the bird’s tail in his jaws. Feathers pressed around his nose, his warm breath billowing through them.

  Side by side, they carried Slate’s catch to Wind Runner’s camp. The scratches on Gray Wing’s neck stung like fire, but he held fast to the grouse. They’d fought hard to keep it.

  Slate guided him along the secret passages that led to the clearing hidden in a wide patch of heather. As the trail narrowed, she tugged the grouse from him and pushed ahead. Gray Wing let go and fell in behind, slowing as the heather opened onto a small grassy clearing. Would Wind Runner welcome him? The last time he’d seen her, she had made it clear that her new home was closed to outsiders.

  “Gray Wing!” Gorse Fur saw him first. The gray tabby tom clambered out of a heather nest and hurried across the grass. “How are you?” He paused, his nose twitching. “I smell blood. Are you okay?”

  Slate dropped the grouse and pushed it beneath the heather. “I ran into a fox,” she explained. “Gray Wing heard my screeches and came to help. Don’t worry, we chased it off. It won’t show its snout around here for a while.”

  Small ears poked up above the rim of Gorse Fur’s nest.

  “Who is it?” A kit clambered out of the nest and came charging across the clearing.

  “Moth Flight!” Wind Runner sat up in a nest a tail-length away. “It’s too cold to be out of your nest. And Dust Muzzle will freeze on his own!”

  “No I won’t!” A second head bobbed up.

  “You’re supposed to be sleeping.” Wind Runner meowed with annoyance.

  “We can sl
eep later!” Dust Muzzle climbed out of Gorse Fur’s nest and raced after his sister.

  Wind Runner’s eyes shone in the dark, widening as they reached Gray Wing. She hopped out of her nest. “It’s you!”

  “I’m sorry to disturb everyone.” Gray Wing dipped his head.

  Wind Runner flicked her tail happily. “It’s good to see you.” She tasted the air. “You’re hurt!”

  “Just scratches.” Slate shrugged.

  “Slate lost a piece of her ear.” Gray Wing told her.

  Wind Runner sniffed at Slate’s wound. “Reed had better look at it.” She called over her shoulder. “Reed? Are you awake?”

  “How can any cat sleep with this noise?” A silver tabby tom was stretching in his nest.

  Gray Wing felt soft fur brush his forepaws. A tail flicked past his nose. He looked down. “Moth Flight? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me.” Moth Flight had grown. She was bigger than Dew Nose but still had her kit fluff. She gazed at Gray Wing with bright green eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Gray Wing.”

  Moth Flight tipped her head. “You dug the graves for my sister and brother,” she mewed, “when we lived in the hollow.”

  Gray Wing nodded, his pelt rippling uncomfortably as he saw grief glisten briefly in Wind Runner’s eyes.

  She shifted her paws. “Moth Flight, take your brother back to the nest. You can speak to Gray Wing once it’s light. He has wounds that need treating.”

  Reed had crossed the clearing and was already sniffing at Gray Wing’s neck. “I’d better put some herbs on those scratches before they turn bad.”

  Gorse Fur grunted. “Fox bites are as sour as a badger’s.”

  “I can help you, Reed!” Moth Flight offered.

  “Me too!” Dust Muzzle pushed past his sister. The tom-kit’s gray pelt glowed in the moonlight.

  Moth Flight pushed him away. “I offered first.”

  Wind Runner growled. “Neither of you is helping,” she told them firmly. “Go back to the nest and sleep.”

  Moth Flight eyed her mother. “Can we have a bite of grouse first? It’s the best catch we’ve had in ages.”

  Wind Runner gave her a stern look. “In the morning.”

  Moth Flight turned and flounced back to the nest. “If I starve to death before dawn, it’ll be your fault.”

  Dust Muzzle ran after her. “At least we can look forward to a meal when we wake up,” he mewed eagerly.

  As the kits climbed back into their nest, Gray Wing scanned the camp. The cold wind hardly penetrated the little hollow among the heather bushes. The cats had built deep nests in the shade of their branches. It was far cozier than the hollow had been, but when the kits grew into nests of their own, it would be cramped.

  Reed peered at the scratches on Gray Wing’s neck.

  Gray Wing nosed him away. “Treat Slate’s ear first.”

  The gray she-cat was acting as though her injury weren’t bothering her, but Gray Wing could sense her stiffness. She was brave, but she must still have been shocked by the ferocity of the fox’s attack. If I hadn’t been there, it could have killed her.

  He pushed the thought away. He was not going to lose another cat.

  “It’s a clean bite.” Reed sniffed at Slate’s ear. “It will heal neatly, but I’ll make some ointment to stop it from getting infected.” He sat back on his haunches and tipped his head sympathetically. “It’s a shame it got your good ear.”

  Gray Wing blinked through the darkness and noticed that the tip of Slate’s other ear was torn at the top. He’d never noticed before. “They’re a better match now,” he meowed encouragingly.

  Slate’s whiskers twitched. “Is that meant to be a compliment?”

  Heat spread beneath Gray Wing’s pelt. “I—I just meant . . .”

  Reed padded between them. “I’d better make some ointment.”

  As the silver tabby crossed the camp, Gray Wing gazed into Slate’s eyes. “I only meant that you look fine,” he murmured shyly.

  “Thanks.” Slate dipped her head.

  Wind Runner paced around them. “How’s your new home, Gray Wing? Slate told us about the cats splitting up. I was surprised you’d choose that dank old forest. I thought you were a moor cat to your bones.”

  Gorse Fur—who had hung back while Reed checked their wounds—leaned forward. “Tall Shadow must be happy.”

  “She is,” Gray Wing purred. “The pine forest is peaceful and sheltered.”

  “Slate told us that Thunder has gone to live with his father,” Gorse Fur went on. “Do you think the forest will be big enough for both of them?”

  Wind Runner’s ear twitched. “Hush, Gorse. They’re Gray Wing’s kin.”

  Gray Wing shrugged. “Clear Sky’s changed, and Thunder has matured. . . . I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  Gorse Fur sniffed. “A tabby doesn’t change its stripes.”

  A shadow moved at the far edge of the clearing. A gray-and-white she-cat ducked out from beneath the heather and padded toward them. “Who’s this?” She eyed Gray Wing suspiciously.

  “He’s an old friend, from the hollow,” Wind Runner explained. She dipped her head to the she-cat. “This is Minnow, Reed’s mate.”

  Gray Wing nodded a greeting. “I’m Gray Wing. Pleased to meet you.”

  “This is Gray Wing?” Minnow’s gaze flickered over his pelt. She sounded surprised. “I thought he’d be bigger.”

  “Wind Runner!” Moth Flight’s mew sounded from Gorse Fur’s nest. “We can’t get back to sleep with every cat talking.”

  Wind Runner sighed heavily.

  Gorse Fur nodded toward the sky, which was lightening beyond the heather. “It’s nearly dawn,” he mewed softly. “They might as well be up and running around. I can take them out of camp and show them the moortop . . . ?”

  Wind Runner glared at him. “You know I don’t want them out there until they’re big enough to take care of themselves.”

  “They’ll have me,” Gorse Fur pointed out.

  “I’ll go with them,” Minnow offered. The she-cat was small, but Gray Wing could see hard muscle beneath her gray-and-white pelt.

  Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle were already scrambling out of the nest.

  “Please can we go?” Moth Flight reached Wind Runner first and raced around her. “We’ll never learn to take care of ourselves if we stay in camp the whole time.”

  Dust Muzzle stared gravely at his mother. “I’ll make sure Moth Flight doesn’t get into any trouble,” he promised. “I won’t leave her side.”

  “Please!” Moth Flight looked from Wind Runner to Gorse Fur. “We’ll stay close to Gorse Fur and do everything he tells us.”

  Gray Wing saw Wind Runner’s shoulders droop. “Okay,” she meowed. “But don’t stay out long. That fox might still be around.”

  Gray Wing lifted his chin. “I think we gave it a pretty good scare.”

  “We’ll watch out for it!” Moth Flight raced for the camp entrance.

  Dust Muzzle dashed after her. “Wait for me.”

  Gorse Fur lifted his tail happily. “They’ll be fine,” he reassured Wind Runner, and ducked into the heather tunnel.

  Minnow followed. “Will you be here when we get back?” she called over her shoulder to Gray Wing.

  “I don’t know.” Gray Wing glanced at the pale sky pushing back the stars. His campmates would be worried about him.

  As Minnow disappeared, Reed trotted across the clearing, a leaf folded between his jaws. He dropped it on the grass and pawed it open. A thick paste was smeared over it. “I’ll treat your ear first.” He bent and lapped up a tongueful of the paste and began to wash it into Slate’s ear tip.

  Slate winced. “Are you sure that will help?”

  “My mother used it on me,” Reed told her when he’d finished. He puffed out his chest. “And look how healthy I am.”

  Gray Wing purred. He liked this friendly tom.

  “Your turn.” Reed turned to him.
“Lift your chin.” He dipped his tongue in the ointment again and, as Gray Wing stretched his nose toward the sky, began lapping it into the scratches around Gray Wing’s throat.

  Gray Wing was surprised by the tom’s gentleness. The ointment stung as it met his wounds, but Reed’s tongue was fast and light. As the silver tom finished and backed away, Gray Wing wrinkled his nose. “I don’t recognize that scent.”

  “It’s dried oak leaf and marigold,” Reed told him. “I collected the marigolds near the river in greenleaf. They dry well in the sun and keep their strength.”

  “I’ll tell Pebble Heart about it,” Gray Wing meowed.

  “Pebble Heart.” Reed’s eyes shone. “Slate’s told me about him. She says he’s a natural healer. I’d like to meet him.”

  “I’m sure you will, one day.” He glanced at Slate. “I should get back to him. He’ll wonder where I am.”

  “Share some prey first,” Slate suggested. “The grouse will feed all of us.”

  Gray Wing’s belly felt hard with hunger.

  Wind Runner lifted her tail. “Please stay.” She padded to the heather wall of the camp and hauled out the grouse. “It’s a long time since we’ve seen you.” She tore off a wing and tossed it to Gray Wing.

  It landed at his paws, its scent flooding his nose. “Okay.” His campmates would know he was experienced enough to look after himself. He leaned down and took a mouthful of sweet flesh from the thickest part of the wing.

  Wind Runner tore the bird into pieces, laying some aside for Minnow, Gorse Fur, and the kits, and shared the rest with Reed and Slate.

  As Gray Wing ate, dawn pushed up from the distant mountains, sunshine breaking over the heather. The moor seemed to open beneath its warmth, releasing its fragrance into the breeze. Relishing the scent, Gray Wing sat up and licked his lips, his belly full.

  Wind Runner had already finished and was washing her paws with long steady laps of her tongue. Reed padded to the edge of the clearing, where early sunshine was pooling, and lay down.