The Blazing Star Page 8

  Clear Sky hardly spared them a glance. He halted beside Sparrow Fur, who lay bleeding in the grass where One Eye had left her. His belly heaved with a mixture of revulsion and pity. The tortoiseshell kit was unconscious, her chest barely moving to show that she was still alive. Terrible wounds gaped in her flanks and belly.

  A helpless kit! Clear Sky thought, guilt surging through him like storm water. What was I thinking?

  Desperately he turned toward the other cats who were still watching, transfixed with horror. “I need help,” he mewed, his voice shaking. “Please. We need cobwebs to stop the bleeding.”

  Instantly the cats scattered into the undergrowth. Clear Sky felt a brief glow of gratitude that they didn’t turn their backs on him after they had watched him allow the unequal fight to happen. But a heartbeat later he pushed the feeling away.

  That’s not important now. What matters is saving Sparrow Fur!

  Clear Sky was vaguely aware that Tom and One Eye were still fighting somewhere on the other side of the clearing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All his attention was on the injured kit.

  Acorn Fur was the first cat to return with a thick pawful of cobwebs. She bent over her former denmate, gently licking the blood away from her wounds and pressing the cobwebs over them. They quickly soaked with blood, but when the other cats returned with more cobwebs, the bleeding was gradually brought under control. Sparrow Fur’s breathing grew deeper and more regular, though she didn’t open her eyes.

  “Will she be okay now?” Acorn Fur asked anxiously.

  Clear Sky heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I hope so,” he replied. “But we need to get her back to camp and care for her.”

  He realized that the hissing and screeching from Tom and One Eye had died away to silence. Good, the fight is over, he thought. Now I can deal with them both. . . .

  But when he glanced across at the other side of the clearing, his jaws gaped in shock. Tom lay with his legs splayed out and his eyes wide in a fixed stare. Blood clotted in his fur and on the grass around him. One Eye sat beside him, calmly licking his paws and cleaning blood off his whiskers.

  “He fought well,” he meowed, “for a kittypet.”

  Clear Sky heard gasps of horror from the other cats, feeling as though all the blood in his veins had turned to ice.

  “Oh, no,” Thorn muttered, sounding sick. “Tom didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  “He was only defending his kit,” Acorn Fur whispered.

  With a massive effort, Clear Sky pulled himself together and gave his pelt a shake. “Carry Sparrow Fur back to camp as quickly as you can,” he ordered. “Treat her like you would your own kit. And one of you should run ahead and tell Petal to make a soft nest out of moss.”

  Acorn Fur raced off at once, while Thorn and Leaf gently picked up Sparrow Fur’s body, careful not to dislodge the cobwebs over her wounds. As they headed into the trees, Quick Water padded just in front of them, carefully holding back branches and bramble tendrils so that they didn’t catch on the kit’s pelt.

  Once they had gone, Clear Sky slowly padded across the clearing toward One Eye, who was still grooming himself, his gaze firmly fixed on his paw.

  Clear Sky halted a few paw steps in front of the rogue, then discovered that he had no idea what he wanted to say. “What . . .” he managed to stammer.

  One Eye looked up at him, the fur around his mouth spiky with drying blood. “Stupid kittypet,” he rasped, his voice filled with contempt. “He should have known better than to challenge me. I’ve killed much tougher opponents than him.”

  “Like the kit?” Clear Sky asked, unable to find words strong enough to express his disgust with the rogue. “The helpless kit you practically tore apart, for fun?”

  One Eye flicked his tail dismissively. “That kit was too proud,” he mewed. “She didn’t know when to give up. Now she’s learned a valuable lesson.”

  Clear Sky’s claws slid out, and his foreleg swiped a hard blow at the side of One Eye’s head. The rogue dodged it with no trouble at all, giving Clear Sky a derisive look.

  “You can’t stop me from defending my honor,” he told Clear Sky. “That’s how it works in the real world.”

  Honor? Clear Sky thought. This cat has no honor!

  He struck at One Eye again, but the rogue avoided that blow with as much ease as the first. “We have rules here!” Clear Sky hissed.

  “Your so-called rules are a joke,” One Eye snarled back. “No cat really cares about anything but himself. Pretending otherwise just causes heartache . . . and sickness.”

  Clear Sky’s heart thumped uncomfortably. Sickness? “What do you know about the sickness?” he demanded.

  One Eye gave the same dismissive flick of his tail.

  “That bird was very ill,” Clear Sky went on, his apprehension growing with every heartbeat. “Do you know more about it than you told us?”

  “I know enough to tell you that some of the cats in your group are as good as dead.”

  He didn’t know if One Eye’s words were to be trusted, but felt his fur bristling along his back. “Which ones?” he demanded. “How do you know?”

  One Eye flicked his tail again. “I could tell you, but I won’t bother. I guess I only care about myself.”

  Clear Sky found the malevolence in his single eye sickening. A red mist clouded Clear Sky’s vision. He pounced on One Eye, holding him down with both forepaws while he dug into the rogue’s neck with his teeth. One Eye struggled, but rage gave Clear Sky new strength.

  Every instinct was urging him to rip out the vile cat’s throat and let his blood run out into the grass, but he knew that would be to lower himself to the same disgusting level. Instead he stood back, releasing One Eye. The rogue leaped up, smoothing one paw over his ears.

  “Get out of here,” Clear Sky ordered, forcing his voice to remain even as he spat out the words. “Do not come back. Or I will kill you with my own claws.”

  As One Eye glared for a moment, Clear Sky realized something that had always bothered him about the rogue. His eye had no expression, just a malignant yellow glow.

  “You’ll kill me, will you?” the rogue asked. “Will you really?”

  Clear Sky felt the blood pounding in his ears and braced himself, ready for battle. But One Eye turned away, heading for the edge of the clearing and into the trees.

  Clear Sky took a deep breath. One Eye has gone—and I feel like he’s taken all of my honor with him. He realized that he should have driven One Eye out after he challenged his authority in front of Tall Shadow and Thunder. How will I ever explain what happened to my cats?

  Ready to despair, Clear Sky closed his eyes. A heartbeat later he felt a hard blow on his back, and let out a startled yowl. Claws dug into his back, and One Eye snaked a paw around Clear Sky’s neck, aiming for his eye.

  That’s a move Tom came up with! Clear Sky thought, struggling frantically to throw One Eye off. Pain stabbed into his face as One Eye raked his claws over his cheek.

  Clear Sky let himself go limp and collapsed to the ground, rolling over so that One Eye was underneath him. Then he wriggled around and swiped his claws across the rogue’s shoulder, breaking his grip. Clear Sky sprang to his paws, panting.

  “You’ll kill me, will you?” One Eye sneered, rising to face him. “You’ll kill One Eye? If One Eye were that easy to kill, he’d never have survived kithood.” He spat at Clear Sky, pointing with his tail at the wound along his face. “Keep that to remember me by,” he snarled.

  As the rogue slunk away into the forest, Clear Sky felt his legs trembling. He sank to the ground, taking in huge gulps of air. He felt so utterly defeated, as though he would never be able to get up again.

  I’ve made a terrible mistake. . . .

  CHAPTER 11

  Gray Wing woke up, blinking at the sunlight that streamed into his den. The kits who shared it with him were nowhere to be seen, their nests cold. Where have they gone? he wondered, struggling to his paws and trying to ig
nore the ache in his joints. I hope they’re not getting into any trouble. He would never forget how Tom had taken the kits away, and how Turtle Tail had been killed when she went to look for them. And now Tom’s in the forest again. . . .

  Leaving the den, Gray Wing saw that the sun was already high in the sky; it was a crisp, cold day with a hint of frost on the breeze. Tall Shadow was sitting on her rock keeping watch, as usual. Lightning Tail and Shattered Ice were returning from a hunting expedition, a rabbit dangling from each of their jaws, while the three newcomers were practicing their hunting moves in the middle of the clearing.

  I must have slept in again, Gray Wing thought guiltily, remembering the days when he would always be the first cat to wake up.

  An ear-splitting yowl roused Gray Wing from his memories. That’s Wind Runner!

  His pelt prickling with apprehension, Gray Wing turned toward Wind Runner’s den, seeing that several cats were clustered around the entrance. His fear deepening, his heart beginning to pound, he raced over to join them.

  Shouldering his way between Jagged Peak and Dappled Pelt, he saw that Wind Runner’s kit Morning Whisker was lying on her side just inside the den, her belly horribly swollen. Blood was dribbling from her mouth and from sores beneath her fur. Nausea gripped Gray Wing’s belly at the same time as deep compassion welled up inside him.

  She has the sickness!

  “I can’t bear it!” Wind Runner whimpered. She was standing a couple of fox-lengths away, leaning on Gorse Fur for support. “I can’t lose another kit! Why couldn’t it be me instead?”

  Then Gray Wing spotted Pebble Heart slipping into the den beside Morning Whisker and leaning over her, opening his jaws to push some chewed-up herb into the sick kit’s mouth. Her littermates, Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle, watched anxiously from their mother’s side.

  Instinctively Gray Wing sprang forward and knocked Pebble Heart away from the struggling kit, spinning him around to face him. “What are you doing?” he demanded angrily. “Stay away from that kit! She’s dying!”

  Pebble Heart set the lump of chewed leaves down carefully. “I know,” he replied. “I was helping to treat her. Cloud Spots says that tansy—”

  “Where is Cloud Spots?” Gray Wing interrupted. “He should be dealing with this, not a cat as young as you.”

  Pebble Heart rubbed his cheek affectionately against Gray Wing’s shoulder. “Cloud Spots went to gather herbs. We’ve been using the tansy, and we’ve nearly finished what we had in our collection. We need more, so Cloud Spots left me in charge.”

  Gray Wing closed his eyes, feeling like a complete mouse-brain. “Oh . . .” he muttered. His instincts still screamed at him to keep Pebble Heart away from the sick cat, although he knew that that poor little Morning Whisker had no other hope. Pebble Heart is special, he reminded himself. He has his own path to follow.

  “I’m going to give this tansy to Morning Whisker,” Pebble Heart mewed, picking up the chewed-up lump and gently forcing it between her jaws. “Don’t worry. Cloud Spots told me to be careful not to touch her sores or let her breathe on me.”

  As Gray Wing watched, Owl Eyes slipped up to his side and touched noses with him. “Morning Whisker will be okay, won’t she?” he asked anxiously.

  Gray Wing let out a long sigh. “I don’t know.” There’s so much I don’t know these days. . . .

  Gray Wing padded over to Gorse Fur and Wind Runner, laying his tail comfortingly over the distraught she-cat’s back. “Morning Whisker will be okay,” he told her, wishing he believed his own words. “You mustn’t lose hope.”

  Wind Runner broke off her pitiful yowling and sank to the ground. “That’s easy for you to say,” she whimpered. “All your kits are alive and healthy.”

  Gray Wing rested a paw on her shoulder. “My kits may be alive,” he mewed gently, “but my mate is gone, and I know grief as well as you. You cannot let the misery overwhelm you. Your other kits still need you, and you must focus on helping them.”

  Wind Runner blinked and turned her head away, still trembling, but Gorse Fur gave Gray Wing a grateful nod. “We don’t know what will happen,” he murmured to his mate.

  Gray Wing padded away, leaving the two cats to their suffering. Then he realized that one of his kits was still unaccounted for. Beckoning to Owl Eyes, he asked, “Where’s Sparrow Fur?”

  “She went to find our father,” Owl Eyes replied.

  Gray Wing flinched, though he tried to hide the pain he felt to hear one of the kits call Tom his father. Even though it’s true . . . “Wait a moment,” he meowed. “Why would she go off into the forest without telling me?”

  Owl Eyes scrabbled at the ground with his forepaws, not meeting Gray Wing’s gaze. “Jagged Peak said it was okay. Anyway, we’re all one big group now, aren’t we?”

  “Sort of,” Gray Wing responded, wincing as he realized he wasn’t sure what the rules were anymore. He couldn’t help thinking of Tom’s treachery in the past—the way he had stolen the kits, and that he might have been involved in Turtle Tail’s death.

  “No, this isn’t right,” he growled, glancing around wildly. Fear surged over him as he imagined what Tom might do to Sparrow Fur, or what other dangers the kit might encounter alone in the forest without him or any of her denmates. Foxes, dogs, Twolegs . . . she might meet any of them! “We have to form a search party. We have to get her back.”

  He spotted Jagged Peak, who had joined Holly and the other newcomers, and beckoned him over with a commanding flick of his tail.

  “What’s wrong?” Jagged Peak asked as he limped up.

  “Sparrow Fur—my kit—went off to find Tom the kittypet, and Owl Eyes said you gave her permission!”

  Jagged Peak’s eyes widened with surprise. “Yes, I did. Is there a problem?”

  “A problem?” Gray Wing was stunned. “You let her go? She’s just a kit!”

  Jagged Peak began to look uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be okay. After all, he is their father. And she’s not a tiny kit anymore.”

  Gray Wing had to admit that his brother was right. The kits were growing up. And Sparrow Fur always knows what she wants, just like her mother.

  Gray Wing’s heart pounded as he thought over what Jagged Peak had just told him. It sounds so reasonable, he thought. And yet . . . “They have no mother now,” he meowed. “I’m all they have. I must protect her.”

  Jagged Peak twitched his whiskers to show he understood. “That’s true,” he responded gently. “But the kits are nearly grown. They aren’t helpless anymore. They’re old enough to make their own decisions, and all three of them wanted to train with Tom.”

  Gray Wing shook his head. “But what if . . . what if . . .”

  “What if what?” Jagged Peak asked, amusement glimmering in his blue eyes. “You can’t protect them forever. You can’t protect any cat forever, Gray Wing, no matter how hard you try to. That’s a lesson I must learn, too.”

  Gray Wing looked at him and wondered whether the young cat was talking about how Gray Wing had treated him. It’s true. I have always tried to protect him. But where’s the harm in that?

  Then he turned his head to one side, realizing what his brother had said. “What do you mean?” he asked. “A lesson you must learn?”

  Jagged Peak leaned in closer to Gray Wing, his whiskers quivering with excitement. “I’ve got news,” he announced. “And I want you to be the first to hear it. It’s very early yet, but I can’t keep quiet any longer. I’m going to be a father! Soon I will have kits of my own!”

  Gray Wing stepped back a pace and stared at him. In his mind, Jagged Peak was still the tiny kit who had run away from the mountain cave and needed looking after on the journey. And now he’s going to have his own kits!

  “With Holly?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course with Holly,” Jagged Peak responded. “We love each other. I’ve never felt this way before,” he admitted shyly. “She challenges me, and we keep each other on our paw tips. I just hope I can
be as good a father as you’ve been to Turtle Tail’s kits.”

  Gray Wing hardly heard the last few words. He was staring at Jagged Peak, realizing that his brother looked happier than he ever had since they came from the mountains. His pelt and his eyes shone, and he barely limped anymore. It also seemed the confidence he once had, before his fall from the tree, was back.

  I promised Quiet Rain I would take care of Jagged Peak, he thought ruefully. And I’ve done my best to keep that promise. But by protecting him so fiercely, have I been holding him back?

  As Gray Wing was lost in thought, Thunder stalked into the camp with Cloud Spots just behind him. Both were carrying herbs. Gray Wing looked up and remembered that Pebble Heart had told him Cloud Spots had gone out foraging, but he hadn’t realized that Thunder was with him.

  I slept through all of this, and no cat thought to wake me.

  Thunder and Cloud Spots bounded across the hollow, carrying the herbs to Wind Runner’s den. Cloud Spots stayed to examine Morning Whisker, but Thunder padded back into the center of the camp and glanced around. “Let’s gather around the lookout rock,” he meowed to his denmates. “I have an announcement.”

  Gray Wing followed him and sat at the foot of the rock. While the rest of the cats gathered, Thunder leaped up beside Tall Shadow, waiting until every cat was assembled.

  “We must be extra vigilant about the sickness,” he began once his denmates were ready, his gaze troubled. “From now on, no cat is to touch Morning Whisker except for Cloud Spots and Pebble Heart—no, Wind Runner, not even you and Gorse Fur,” he added as the tabby she-cat opened her jaws to protest.

  Gray Wing could sense Wind Runner’s grief and anger as she gazed up at Thunder with a challenge in her eyes. But Gorse Fur touched his tail-tip to her shoulder and murmured something into her ear. Wind Runner gave a reluctant nod and seemed to relax.

  “And we must all be careful when we’re out hunting,” Thunder went on. “No going after prey that’s been near a sick animal. Better to go hungry than to bring illness back to the camp!” As the cats began to murmur among themselves, Thunder nodded, adding, “That’s all,” and jumped down from the rock.