The First Battle Page 11

  Heart lurching, Gray Wing jerked up his head. He blinked open his eyes, surprised to find himself in his own nest. He breathed, air filling his chest. Relief swamped him. Turtle Tail was asleep beside him, her chin resting on his flank. The kits were curled against them, warm and soft, eyes closed.

  It was just a nightmare. Sighing, Gray Wing closed his eyes and drifted back into dreams.

  “Gray Wing.” Turtle Tail’s mew woke him into a soft, gray dawn. He gazed around the shadowy camp. It was hardly light but Rainswept Flower was hurrying across the clearing. Cloud Spots was carrying herbs toward the bramble. Gorse Fur paced with Shattered Ice beside the long grass.

  “What’s going on?” Gray Wing pushed himself to his paws.

  Turtle Tail pressed her muzzle to his cheek. “Wind Runner’s begun her kitting.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Thunder watched Gorse Fur pace beside Shattered Ice. The thin gray tom stopped as another pained yowl burst from beneath the bramble.

  Rainswept Flower poked her head from the trailing stems. Gorse Fur glanced fearfully toward her. “The kitting’s started too soon!”

  Thunder’s belly tightened. Too soon? Were the rogue and her kits going to die?

  He looked toward the bramble, bright with yellow flowers.

  “Any news?” Turtle Tail called from her nest. Owl Eyes, Pebble Heart, and Sparrow Fur blinked sleepily beside her. Gray Wing was hauling himself to his paws.

  Thunder headed toward her. “Cloud Spots is with her. Dappled Pelt went to fetch herbs.” He stiffened as another yowl sounded from the bramble. “Rainswept Flower says the kits are coming too soon.”

  Turtle Tail frowned. “By the look of her belly, she wasn’t due for another moon.” She hopped from the nest.

  Thunder glanced anxiously at Gray Wing as he remembered helping him back to camp. The gray tom looked weary, his golden eyes dull. And Thunder could still hear him wheezing with every breath. “How are you?” He leaned closer.

  “Better,” Gray Wing rasped.

  “He’s going to rest,” Turtle Tail meowed briskly.

  Sparrow Fur was there, looking at her mother with eager eyes. “We’ll look after him.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Turtle Tail told her fondly. “Let him be.” She nudged Sparrow Fur from the nest, scooping Pebble Heart after her before swinging Owl Eyes out by his scruff. “The best thing for you three to do is to play over there in the long grass. I want to go check on Wind Runner.” She leaned close to Sparrow Fur. “Come and check on Gray Wing every now and then,” she whispered. “But don’t wake him if he’s sleeping, and if his wheezing gets worse, come and find me, okay?”

  Sparrow Fur nodded earnestly, before turning and nudging her brothers away. “You heard her,” she told them.

  “I should be the one to check him,” Pebble Heart complained as they scampered away. “I know more about herbs than you do.”

  Turtle Tail called after them. “You can take turns.” She faced Gray Wing. “You will rest, won’t you?”

  Gray Wing nodded. He looked as though he could do little else.

  “Can you sit with him for a while?” Turtle Tail begged Thunder. “I don’t like leaving him—”

  Wind Runner wailed again.

  Turtle Tail bounded away. “I must see how she’s doing,” she called over her shoulder.

  Thunder shook out his fur. The rising sun was beginning to burn away the gray mist swathing the hollow, but there was still an early-morning chill. “Lie down,” he told Gray Wing. “You look exhausted.”

  Gray Wing didn’t argue, curling into the heather with a sigh. Thunder’s pelt pricked. It wasn’t like Gray Wing to give in so easily. He must be really ill. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Are you hungry? Do you need prey?”

  Gray Wing didn’t answer, his gaze following Turtle Tail as she disappeared behind the screen of yellow flowers. “This is no time for kits to be born.”

  Thunder shivered at the darkness in his tone. “New life brings hope and joy,” he argued. “You said it yourself.”

  “That was before,” Gray Wing answered grimly.

  “Before what?” Thunder searched his gaze, but the gray tom’s eyelids were drooping.

  “There’s danger.” Gray Wing’s mew was barely a whisper as he rested his nose on his paws and closed his eyes. “But you will lead us through it, Thunder. I know you will. . . .” His mew died away.

  Thunder leaned closer, relieved to hear Gray Wing’s steady breath. He’d just fallen asleep. “Get better,” he whispered. “We need you.”

  He turned, Gray Wing’s words echoing in his ears. There’s danger. But you will lead us through it. What did he mean? Was he talking about the threat from Clear Sky? How will I lead us through it? Surely it was Gray Wing who was going to prevent battle by meeting Clear Sky?

  Another yowl sounded from beneath the bramble, louder than before.

  Turtle Tail burst from drooping branches. “Thunder!” She raced toward him. “Fetch a stick.”

  “A stick?” Thunder blinked at her. “What for?”

  “Just fetch one. It’s for Wind Runner!” Turtle Tail ordered. “A sturdy one that won’t snap or crumble.” She nosed him toward the gap in the heather. “Hurry! I’ll get someone else to sit with Gray Wing.”

  Thunder charged from the camp, his paws sliding on the wet grass outside. He scanned the moor. There was only heather and grass here. For a sturdy stick he’d need to go to the forest. Dare he risk crossing Clear Sky’s border? He pictured Turtle Tail’s anxious face. Another agonized yowl drifted from the camp. He had to.

  Haring across the moor, he plunged through the heather, swerving past a thorny gorse bush and bursting onto the slope beyond. He raced to the border, not even hesitating as he crossed the scent line. The tang of it touched his tongue. Fircone had marked this part. He scanned for a sign of the mottled brown-and-white tom, but nothing moved beyond the trees.

  Pushing through ferns, he crept between the trees. Ears pricked, he searched the forest floor. A long stick lay beneath a birch. He sniffed it. A sturdy one. He remembered Turtle Tail’s orders and clamped his jaws around the gnarled bark. The old wood disintegrated between his teeth. Snorting with frustration, Thunder searched again. A thicker stick lay nearby. He darted toward it and bit down. It fell to splinters in his mouth. Spitting out wood chips, he looked up. If he wanted a stick that wasn’t half rotten, he’d have to pick a fresh one.

  His heart sank. Climbing trees wasn’t his best skill. His heart twisted as memory flooded back. He’d practiced tree climbing with Clear Sky. His father had instructed him to leap from tree to tree. He shuddered as he recalled the branches wobbling beneath his paws, dipping with every paw step. He’d lost his balance and fallen. He’d been smaller then; how would the branches hold his weight now?

  He pushed away his doubts. Wind Runner needed a stick. Hunkering down, he fixed his gaze on the trunk of an oak. The bark was old and knobby. It should be easy to get a grip. He leaped, hooking the trunk with his claws. They stung as he dangled, clinging on desperately. How do squirrels make this look so easy? Digging in his hind claws he pushed himself up and flung his forepaws over a low branch. It was thick and he managed to clamber onto it, relief loosing his muscles as he felt it solid beneath his paws. Catching his breath, he glanced along it. Shoots sprouted at the end. They looked thick. They’d be solid branches one day, but now were still young and pliable. They wouldn’t crumble or splinter under pressure. He just hoped he had the strength to snap one off.

  Padding along the branch, he stopped beside a thick green stem sprouting from a knot in the bark. He grabbed it with his forepaws and curled his claws around it. Grunting, he heaved. The stem bent. He heaved again. The stem trembled in his claws. Break, you dumb stick! He whined with effort, his muscles trembling as he pulled on the stem.

  Crack!

  The stem snapped. Thunder lost his balance. Belly flipping, he tumbled from the branch and hurtled toward the ground. Ter
ror surged beneath his pelt. He flailed his paws and flicked his tail, turning in the air a moment before he hit the ground. He landed heavily on his paws, gasping with surprise. The stem clattered down beside him.

  I knew I wasn’t cut out for tree climbing! He shook out his pelt. But I’m great at falling.

  He inspected the stem, pleased to see that it had snapped at the base. It looked sturdy. He just hoped Turtle Tail would agree. Grabbing it between his jaws, he headed for the border.

  Breathing deeply, he checked for scents, hoping the forest cats wouldn’t notice his when they patrolled the border later. If they did, he hoped they’d assume it was simply lingering from yesterday’s visit. He pushed through the ferns, the stick catching among the thick fronds. He sank his teeth into one end and heaved it free, then dragged it toward the border.

  His jaws were aching by the time he’d hauled it up the slope. He dropped it and took a better hold, clamping the middle of it between his jaws. He ran, crossing the grass, head high. I must look like one of those dumb dogs that carry sticks to their Twolegs. Embarrassment heated his pelt. I hope no one sees me.

  As he neared the hollow, he heard Wind Runner yowling. There were no gaps between her shrieks now. Had Turtle Tail’s kitting been this painful? He couldn’t remember cries like this. Wind Runner was one of the bravest cats he knew. She must be suffering. He raced into camp and crossed the clearing.

  As he skidded to a halt outside the bramble, Turtle Tail ducked out. She inspected the stick, sniffing and sinking her teeth into the young wood. “It’s good,” she told Thunder. “Thanks.”

  “What’s it for?” he asked as she picked it up and headed back inside.

  “Come and see.”

  Thunder hesitated as she disappeared. Did he want to see Wind Runner’s suffering? He frowned. He wasn’t going to let Turtle Tail think he was scared. He nosed his way gingerly through the flowery stems.

  The cavern was gloomy. Wind Runner lay stretched on the cool earth. Cloud Spots and Dapple Pelt huddled near her tail while Gorse Fur crouched by her cheek, lapping it as she writhed. She gave a low yowl.

  “She’s exhausted by the pain.” Gorse Fur stared round-eyed at Cloud Spots. “Can’t you do anything else to help her?”

  Turtle Tail hauled Thunder’s stick across the earth and laid the thick end beside Wind Runner’s head. “She could bite down on this.” She searched Cloud Spots’s gaze.

  “Yes!” Cloud Spots’s eyes shone in the gloom. “It might focus her mind away from her pain!”

  Gorse Fur stared at Turtle Tail. “Will it really help?”

  “Let’s find out.” Turtle Tail crouched beside Wind Runner and nudged her muzzle toward the stick. Wind Runner blinked at it hazily, confusion showing through her pain.

  “Bite on it,” Gorse Fur whispered in her ear.

  Thunder leaned closer, holding his breath as Wind Runner reached out and grabbed the stick between her jaws. As her body shuddered, convulsing, she bit down.

  Thunder tensed. Don’t let it splinter!

  The stick creaked but didn’t split.

  “Good!” Cloud Spots nodded to Turtle Tail. “It’s helping her bear down!”

  Wind Runner shuddered again, biting down hard on the stick.

  “The first kit!” Cloud Spots’s mew was tense. Turtle Tail raced to see as the white she-kit sniffed at the tiny, wet bundle.

  Thunder leaned forward, fear rising in his throat. Is it okay?

  Gorse Fur lapped Wind Runner’s head. “You’re doing well.”

  Wind Runner convulsed again.

  “Another!” Cloud Spots scooped the first bundle toward Turtle Tail, who began lapping at the glistening skin that encased it. Thunder stared wide-eyed as the skin split and a tiny gray kit flopped out, looking half drowned. It let out a tiny wail.

  “It’s fine!” Turtle Tail’s mew was jubilant. “And it’s a tom. Come and see, Thunder.” She beckoned him with a flick of her tail.

  Thunder padded nervously around Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt and stopped beside Turtle Tail. The kit was mewling, its eyes closed. Its tail was short and wet like a lizard’s.

  “Is it supposed to look like that?” he asked, breathless.

  “That’s what Pebble Heart, Owl Eyes, and Sparrow Fur looked like,” Turtle Tail purred. “You probably did too.” She grabbed the tom by the scruff and placed it beside Wind Runner’s head, next to his litter-sister.

  Wind Runner grunted as a spasm gripped her.

  “Two more toms!” Cloud Spots called.

  “Four kits!” Gorse Fur broke into a purr.

  “Three toms and a she-kit,” Dappled Pelt announced proudly. “Small, but perfect.”

  Wind Runner let the stick fall away and turned to her firstborn. Gently she lapped the scraps of membrane clinging to its wet fur. It flailed blindly, mewling, and she scooped it closer to her muzzle with a paw.

  Thunder watched, his heart swelling, as one at a time, Dappled Pelt placed the other newborn kits beside Wind Runner’s muzzle. He stared, his throat tightening with emotion. He wanted to congratulate Wind Runner and Gorse Fur, but words didn’t seem enough.

  Wind Runner began purring, as though she could no longer feel the pain. Gorse Fur lapped her head even more fiercely.

  “That’s all,” Cloud Spots announced.

  Turtle Tail’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “That’s plenty.”

  Wind Runner curled around her kits. Thunder watched as they wriggled blindly toward her belly, mewling with frustration as they struggled to get close. He fought the urge to lean in and scoop them toward their mother. Wind Runner seemed to know instinctively what to do and wriggled closer until they were pressed against her. One by one, they sought her belly and latched on, purring as they began to gulp down her milk.

  Thunder backed away, blinking. He felt Turtle Tail’s pelt press against his.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” she breathed.

  Thunder gazed at the kits. “It’s the best thing I ever saw,” he admitted.

  Turtle Tail purred with pleasure. “Toms will never know how it feels to bring kits into the world.”

  “I don’t think they want to!” Thunder remembered Wind Runner’s agonized yowls. But, watching her nursing her kits, it was like it never happened.

  Gorse Fur looked up at Turtle Tail. “Thanks for fetching the stick.”

  “Thunder found it,” she told him. “It was perfect. I was worried he’d bring a rotten . . .” Her voice trailed away and she pricked her ears. “Where are Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes?” She stiffened. “And Pebble Heart.”

  “They’ll still be playing in the long grass,” Thunder told her. Unease pricked his pelt. Had he seen them there when he left camp to fetch the stick? He couldn’t remember.

  “I can’t hear them.” Panic edged Turtle Tail’s mew.

  Thunder pricked his ears. Beyond the trailing branches, the only sound was the murmur of the moor cats. He darted past Wind Runner and stuck his head out. The long grass was quiet. No stems trembled. He pushed his way forward.

  Turtle Tail barged past him. “Where are they?” She raced to the long grass and began sniffing it desperately. “Sparrow Fur!” She lifted her muzzle and called across the camp. “Pebble Heart! Owl Eyes!”

  Lightning Tail bounded from the flat rock. Shattered Ice leaped to his paws beside the heather.

  “What’s wrong?” Rainswept Flower hurried toward Turtle Tail.

  “Has anyone seen my kits?” Turtle Tail called.

  The cats exchanged glances.

  Hawk Swoop padded forward. “I saw them playing on the grass outside camp a while ago.”

  “They were supposed to stay here!” Anger flared in Turtle Tail’s mew. “They shouldn’t be outside the hollow.” She glared accusingly around the moor cats. “Why didn’t anyone stop them?”

  Tall Shadow slid from beside the flat rock. “We didn’t know you wanted them to stay inside,” she meowed calmly.

  “But anything might ha
ve happened to them!” She glanced at the sky. “Have you seen any buzzards?”

  “No,” Tall Shadow soothed. “And there’s no scent of foxes. I’m sure the kits are fine.”

  Jagged Peak limped across the clearing. “They’re probably just having fun.”

  Turtle Tail stared at him hopefully. “Do you think so?”

  “I’ll search for them on the moor,” Jagged Peak offered. “I know where they like to play.”

  “Good idea,” Tall Shadow agreed.

  Thunder narrowed his eyes. Anxiety edged the black she-cat’s mew.

  “What’s going on?” Gray Wing’s wheezing mew sounded from his nest. He was hauling himself to his paws.

  Tall Shadow looked at him. “Have you seen the kits?”

  “Wind Runner’s?” Gray Wing looked confused. “Has she had them?”

  “Yes!” Turtle Tail began pacing, eyes glistening. “But my kits are missing.”

  “Have you seen them?” Tall Shadow asked Gray Wing firmly.

  He shook his head, his paw slipping as he tried to climb out of his nest. “Let me look. I know I’ll find them.”

  Thunder bounded toward him. “Stay there.” Gray Wing was not in a fit state to search the moor. He glanced at Jagged Peak. “Are you going to search for them or not?” he snapped.

  Jagged Peak flattened his ears. “I said I would.”

  “Then go.” Thunder nudged Gray Wing back into his nest as Jagged Peak headed out of the camp. “I’ll make sure he stays here.” Turtle Tail blinked at him gratefully, then bounded after Jagged Peak. Shattered Ice and Hawk Swoop followed.

  “I’ll search the moortop,” Shattered Ice volunteered.

  “I’ll look by the gorge,” Hawk Swoop offered.

  Thunder watched them go, frustration tugging at his belly. Part of him wished he hadn’t offered to watch over Gray Wing. He felt helpless stuck in the hollow.

  Gray Wing moved beside him. He was struggling to climb out of the nest again.

  “Shhhh, just rest.” As he nosed Gray Wing back into the moss, Tall Shadow padded closer.