A Warrior's Spirit Page 7

  I may never see my former home again. I’ll never live at the gorge, and I’ll never sleep surrounded by my Clanmates, she thought. And yet . . . I am home. This is my home now—wherever they are.

  “I’m right here,” she whispered again to her kits. “I promise, I’ll stay with you.”

  Dedication

  Special thanks to Clarissa Hutton

  Allegiances

  THE SISTERS

  LEADER MOONLIGHT—big, long-haired gray she-cat

  SISTERS SNOW—large white she-cat with blue eyes

  FURZE—big ginger she-cat

  HAWK—large ginger brown she-cat with golden eyes

  ICE—green-eyed she-cat

  PETAL—mother of Stream

  SPARROW—young ginger-and-white she-cat

  SUNRISE—big yellow she-cat

  TEMPEST—big tabby she-cat

  HAZE—pale gray she-cat

  TOMS EARTH—yellow tom

  SNAIL—gray tom

  MUD—brown tabby tom

  STREAM—tabby tom with blue eyes

  Chapter 1

  Earth squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to become one with the grass. Breathing slowly, he tried to center himself in just the way his mother, Moonlight, had told him, so he would be able to sense the world around him clearly. This shouldn’t be so hard, he thought.

  His ear itched. Earth scratched at it impatiently with his six-toed paw. His stomach growled, and he pushed away thoughts about how long it had been since dawn, when he’d last eaten prey. Focus, he told himself sternly, remembering Moonlight’s instructions. Be one with the grass, with the land beneath your paws. Could he feel what it was like to have tiny roots stretching through the soil? He concentrated. Can I hear the grass speaking to me?

  No, I can’t. His ear was still itchy, and now his nose itched, too. Earth sneezed and opened his eyes.

  Next to him, his friend Stream was shifting around restlessly, his eyes half closed.

  “I can’t concentrate,” Earth complained. “I’m hungry.”

  Stream flicked his tabby tail, opening his eyes wider to look at Earth. “I can’t concentrate either,” he confessed, then added, “It’s probably because your fur’s as bright yellow as the sun. . . . I can’t see!” He squinted exaggeratedly at Earth until, with a purr of laughter, Earth leaped onto his back, knocking him over.

  The two kits rolled in the grass, aiming playful swipes at each other. At last, Stream wrestled Earth onto his back and Earth kicked up with his hind legs, pushing the tabby kit off and ending the play fight.

  “You’re pretty strong for your size,” Stream observed, getting to his feet and shaking the dirt from his fur.

  Earth scowled at him. “I’m not small,” he meowed. “I’m just . . . smaller than most of the Sisters.”

  He was uncomfortably aware that, even though he was four moons old, just like Stream, he was significantly smaller than both the long-legged tabby tom and Earth’s own littermates. My father, whoever he was, must have been small, Earth thought. He looked down at his bright-furred paws. And yellow.

  “You’re right,” Stream meowed apologetically. “You were much bigger than those everkits at the Twopawplace a moon ago, and they said they were already six moons old.”

  “I guess,” Earth said. He smoothed his fur with his tongue and sat down beside Stream, gazing out over the valley below them. It was sunny and warm, with dandelions and buttercups growing here and there among the grass. He could scent prey, and the familiar smell of the Sisters. Further downhill, near the low, thick bush that was the nursery, he saw his mother, Moonlight, talking seriously with two of the other Sisters. One of them—Stream’s mother, Petal—nodded obediently in response to something Moonlight said, then trotted away.

  Earth sighed. He wished that Moonlight would take more time to instruct him and Stream on how they were supposed to use meditation to speak to the grass and the soil below them. Maybe if she’d told them exactly what those things sounded like, he’d know how to hear them. But she was always so busy. It’s a big responsibility, leading the Sisters, he reminded himself.

  A soft breeze ruffled his fur, and he took a deep breath, scenting cedar and pine from the woods beyond the valley and the fresh smell of the river nearby.

  “I like it here,” he told Stream. “It’s better than that garden by the Twopawplace.” He and Stream had both been born and lived their first two moons in an overgrown Twopaw garden by a crumbling old stone barn. There had been plenty of shelter there, but the rosebush protecting the nursery had pricked his paws. And every cat had kept scolding the kits to keep quiet and avoid attracting the attention of Twopaws. This wide valley surrounded by grassy hills was better.

  “I like it, too,” Stream said. “There’s no point in getting attached, though. In two moons, we’ll go on our wander. And the Sisters will move on, too.”

  Earth shivered a little, the breeze suddenly feeling colder. Toms born to the Sisters only stayed with their mothers and sisters for the first six moons of their lives. Toms were meant to wander the world and find their own paths while the she-cats stayed together. It was just the way things were. Two of the other young toms would be sent on their wander tonight. Earth couldn’t stop thinking about it, how someday he’d be the one leaving everything he knew behind.

  The world seemed like a big place to wander. Earth knew it went past the garden where he’d been born, over Thunderpaths and rivers, farther than any cat could see, even from the top of the tallest hill.

  “Maybe we could come back here,” he suggested to Stream. “After the Sisters move on. We could live here.” He looked around again, at the blue sky and the open grasses and flowers. “This would be a good home.”

  Stream’s blue eyes opened wide. “Earth!” he yowled. “That’s the opposite of wandering. That’s not what toms do!”

  “I guess.” Earth tucked his tail closer to his body. “But it’s a good territory. What if when we travel, we end up somewhere worse? I like it here.”

  “That’s because we haven’t been many other places,” Stream said. “Just wait. Once we’re on our own, we’re going to travel everywhere. It’ll be fun.”

  “You’re probably right,” Earth agreed, feeling a little happier. At least he wasn’t going to be alone on his wander. Stream would be with him. Maybe it would be fun, as long as they were together. “Let’s try meditating again,” he suggested. “Moonlight wants us to really try to talk to the land.”

  “Okay,” Stream agreed, settling more comfortably on his haunches. “I’m not sure what that means, though.”

  “Me either,” Earth said. “Maybe if we focus hard enough, it’ll just happen?”

  “Let’s try.” Stream took a deep breath and shut his eyes. Earth shut his own eyes and reminded himself again what Moonlight had told them.

  Concentrate. Be one with the soil and the grass, the rocks and the trees. Toms were the guardians of the earth, while she-cats spoke to the skies. It was very important to get this right. Earth dug his claws into the dirt beneath him and listened hard, his ears trembling as he strained them.

  Nothing.

  Focus.

  Wait. He pricked up his ears, a thrill of excitement running down his spine. Was that a voice he heard? Distant, but there. Was he hearing the voice of the growing grass? He strained, his ears aching with the desire to just hear . . .

  “—a chipmunk, but it was the size of—”

  Earth sighed, slumping with disappointment. It was the voice of his sister Ice. Without opening his eyes, he knew the breeze had carried her voice faintly to him from the valley below. He hadn’t heard the grass after all.

  This is pointless, he thought, and opened his eyes again. Turning toward Stream to meow his annoyance, he stopped with his mouth half open.

  Stream was sitting perfectly still, his face calm but his mouth moving. He was muttering softly to himself, a low purr of words that Earth couldn’t quite make out. He paused now and again as if to listen
for an answer. No, thought Earth, amazed. He’s not muttering to himself. It’s to the grass and the soil. He’s talking to the land, just like we’re supposed to.

  Earth closed his eyes once more, tense and determined. He strained his ears, but, other than the rustle of the wind in the trees and the meows of the Sisters in the distance, he couldn’t hear a thing.

  What’s wrong with me, that he can do it and I can’t?

  He opened his eyes and waited, his tail twitching restlessly, until Stream finally looked at him, his eyes wide and peaceful. “I’m ready now,” the other kit said.

  Walking back down to camp, Earth peeked at Stream out of the corner of his eye. The other kit didn’t look any different. Earth badly wanted to ask Stream what had happened. Had he really spoken to the grass? How? And how did it feel? What did the grass say?

  Earth hesitated. He didn’t want to sound stupid. Stream had meditated the right way, had spoken with the ground and plants beneath their paws . . . and Earth hadn’t. Even though he’d really tried, he’d gotten it wrong. Did he want to tell Stream that?

  He’ll think there’s something wrong with me. But he’s my best friend. . . .

  Earth was still worrying about whether to tell Stream the truth as they reached camp. The Sisters were busy but peaceful: Tempest and Furze were just back from a hunting patrol, fat voles dangling from their mouths as they strode toward the prey-hole. Petal and Hawk were sharing tongues in the sunshine while Snow, Moonlight, and Haze talked quietly by the bush that was Moonlight’s den.

  “Earth! Stream!” His littermate Sunrise burst out of the nursery and raced toward him, their sister Ice behind her. “Did you do it?” she panted as she halted beside them. “Did you talk to the land? What did it sound like?”

  “Um.” Earth gave a quick, embarrassed lick to the fur on his chest. “It went fine.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Ice’s green eyes narrowed as she sauntered up behind Sunrise. “You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

  “Well, it’s hard!” Earth said defensively.

  “It is hard,” Stream agreed. “You should try it yourself before you start teasing Earth.”

  Sunrise flicked her tail. “Sisters don’t talk to the land,” she said. “We sing to the stars.”

  Ice sat down and tucked her paws neatly beneath her. “It’s really important that you get this right, Earth,” she said, mock seriously. “Did you do something to offend the land? Is that why it won’t talk to you?” She lowered her voice and glanced around. “Did you . . . make dirt in the wrong place, maybe?”

  “You’d better get the land back on your side before you go on your wander!” Sunrise added, joining in on the teasing. “What if you fall asleep in a mud puddle and it just swallows you up?”

  “Oh, ha-ha,” Earth replied with as much dignity as he could muster, while the two she-cats purred with laughter. He wasn’t going to let his sisters bother him. It’ll be okay, he told himself. The land isn’t angry at me. Is it? He shook his pelt, feeling as if he were shaking away his worries. “I’m hungry.”

  The prey-hole was full. His mouth watered as he caught the scent of rabbit, and he began to head across the camp toward it.

  “Wait,” Sunrise meowed, serious for once, and blocked his path. “Chestnut and Snail get first choice today.”

  That’s right. Earth’s appetite disappeared, his stomach dropping. Chestnut and Snail would start their wander tonight. They were only a couple of moons older than he was, and they were going to leave the Sisters and find their own path. Soon it’ll be my turn. Will I be ready by then?

  Stars hung low in the sky, the Claw Stars pointing to the setting sun. The stars would guide the young toms on their first journey. The shadows deepened, and the full moon rose, cold and pale. At last, Moonlight got to her feet and padded silently across the camp toward the hills. The other she-cats, the mothers and sisters of the Sisters, followed. Chestnut and Snail walked close beside their mother, Hawk, but their tails were high and their steps light, as if they were excited to begin their wander. Earth and Stream glanced at each other, then trailed after the other cats.

  At the top of the hill, Chestnut and Snail stopped, their dark fur shadowy in the moonlight. The Sisters gathered around them, and Moonlight stepped forward to touch her nose gently first to Snail’s ear, then to Chestnut’s. “I wish you happiness,” she told them softly, then stepped away to let another Sister brush her muzzle against theirs.

  One by one, the cats of the Sisters said their good-byes to Snail and Chestnut. “We won’t forget you,” one murmured. “Take care of each other,” another mewed. Hawk pressed her face to each of theirs, hard, and closed her eyes as if she was memorizing her sons’ scents.

  At last, it was Earth’s turn. His chest was tight with anxiety. Chestnut and Snail had always been part of their group, only a little older than Earth and Stream and their littermates. They had organized the best games of moss-ball when they were all younger and had led daring, sneaky raids on the prey-hole. How could they be leaving the Sisters forever?

  “Good luck,” Earth said awkwardly, touching his cheek to Snail’s as the larger tom bent down to him. He turned to Chestnut and touched his cheek as well. “Maybe we’ll see each other on our wanders someday.”

  “Maybe,” said Chestnut lightly. His eyes were bright, and he was already looking past Earth, down the hill. Earth watched as he exchanged an excited glance with Snail. It was as if they couldn’t wait to begin their wander.

  Earth wondered what that felt like.

  At last, the good-byes said, Moonlight dipped her head to the two toms. “This is the beginning of your adventure,” she meowed, her voice warm. “Our love goes with you as you set off on your endless wander. You are guardians of the land now. You must listen to what it tells you. Be honorable cats, and the land will guide your paws.”

  Snail and Chestnut both nodded earnestly. “We will listen.”

  Moonlight blinked at them approvingly. “Walk through the night without looking back,” she told them. “At dawn, you will have left your kithood behind you and become true toms. May the ancestors who walk the land find you and give you guidance.”

  Chestnut dipped his head again. “Thank you,” he replied, and Snail echoed him.

  Earth shuddered, his tail lowering, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed. The Sisters regularly spoke to their ancestors—ghosts—and every cat believed that these same ancestors would find toms on their wander. The spirits were supposed to guide them, to give them advice. But Earth had never seen a ghost, and he didn’t want to. It sounded creepy. What would a ghost look like?

  Chestnut and Snail probably already knew. No doubt they could see spirits and talk to the land. They were ready for this.

  Earth watched as Snail and Chestnut walked down the hill and out of sight. They didn’t look back. They were hurrying, eager for whatever came next.

  A cold, sudden wind blew through Earth’s fur and flattened his ears. He shivered again and looked up. Dark clouds were racing across the sky, blotting out the Claw Stars. The branches of the trees farther along the hill thrashed wildly.

  “Let’s get to shelter,” Moonlight called, waving her tail for the Sisters to follow her.

  Earth looked in the direction where Chestnut and Snail had gone. There was no sign of them now. They had disappeared into the night.

  Stream shivered beside him. “Let’s go,” he mewed.

  “I hope Snail and Chestnut find somewhere dry to sleep,” Earth told him. “It’s going to rain.”

  “They have to look after themselves now,” Stream answered. “Come on!”

  With one last glance after the older toms, Earth followed Stream back to their camp and into the nursery, where he curled up, grateful for Stream’s warmth on one side and Sunrise’s on the other. He let his eyes close. Chestnut and Snail will be all right, he thought. They’ll look after each other.

  Earth didn’t know how long he slept, but he woke with a start. The nursery
was dark, not even a hint of moonlight shining through the branches. Cold water was dripping through the thornbush and trickling through his fur. It was raining hard.

  “Mrrrrooooooooooow!”

  Earth sat straight up, every hair on his pelt trembling. The frightened yowl had come from outside, cutting through the steady beat of the rain.

  It was his mother.

  Chapter 2

  “Moonlight!” Earth jumped to his paws. He’d never heard his mother sound like that before.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s not morning yet.”

  The other kits were stirring and meowing complaints, but Earth ignored them and pushed his way out of the nursery.

  “Moonlight! Where are you?” The rain was coming down so hard, it felt like claws slashing through Earth’s fur. Cold wind whipped water into his eyes and blew back his ears and whiskers. He could hear cats calling to one another throughout the camp, but he couldn’t see any of them.

  Stream came out of the nursery behind him, his cold fur brushing Earth’s briefly. “I’ll look this way,” he yowled, waving his tail toward the hill from which they had watched Chestnut and Snail leave.

  “Wait!” Earth told him. “We should—” Stick together, he began to say, but a crack of lightning, quickly followed by a rumble of thunder, drowned out his words. When he blinked the lightning dazzle from his eyes, Stream was gone.

  “To me! Sisters, to me!” Moonlight was suddenly there, calling through the rain. She was almost on top of him before she saw him. “Earth,” she meowed, “why are you out of the nursery? Where are the other kits?” Before he could answer, she had stepped past him and poked her head into the nursery. “Ice! Sunrise! Haze! Come with me!”