The First Battle Page 8

  “No.” Gray Wing’s gaze shone gravely through the mist. “I want you two to go alone.”

  “Just us?” Jackdaw’s Cry stiffened. “But it was your idea.”

  “You’re his brother.” Thunder stared at Gray Wing. “He’ll listen to you.”

  “Maybe later.” Gray Wing’s mew was low. “But the blood between us has soured. I’m not sure he wants me walking into his camp. It might just make him angry.” He met Thunder’s gaze. “You’re his son. That’s the strongest blood tie of all.”

  Thunder blinked. “We quarreled too, remember? I left.”

  Gray Wing meowed. “I think you still have a better chance than I do. Clear Sky and I parted ways moons ago. His bond with you remains fresh.”

  Thunder’s queasiness deepened. What had changed Gray Wing’s mind? He glanced sideways at the black tom. “Why send Jackdaw’s Cry?” If Thunder was going into hostile territory, he didn’t want to rely on a cat who wished he’d never come to live on the moor.

  “To protect you.” Gray Wing’s gaze hardened. “Jackdaw’s Cry fought by your side during the fire. I watched you work together. You make a good team. You’re strong and brave and Jackdaw’s Cry is fast and smart. Plus, he has kin in Clear Sky’s camp. Falling Feather’s his sister, remember? If you both have kin there, you might be safer.”

  Jackdaw’s Cry circled Gray Wing. “What do you want us to say to Clear Sky?”

  “Tell him I want to meet him at the four trees in a few days’ time and discuss territory.”

  “Why not just meet him now?” Thunder argued. “You can get it over with.”

  “If he’s given time to prepare, he won’t see it as an attack. And the four trees belong to no one. We’ll be talking on neutral ground.”

  Jackdaw’s Cry dipped his head. “That sounds fair.”

  Gray Wing’s eyes darkened. “Be careful,” he warned. “Once you’ve crossed the border, if it looks too dangerous, turn back and come home. We can find another way to send this message.”

  Thunder lifted his chin. “We’ll be okay.” He wasn’t going to let Gray Wing down.

  The mist behind Gray Wing swirled as Turtle Tail padded out of the camp. “Have they agreed?” Was that disapproval sharpening her gaze? Did she disagree with Gray Wing’s plan?

  Gray Wing’s gaze fixed on Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry. “Have you?”

  “Yes.” Thunder answered first.

  Jackdaw’s Cry nodded. His gaze flicked to Turtle Tail. “We’ll be back before the sun’s burned away the mist.”

  Turtle Tail didn’t answer.

  “Come on.” Thunder turned and bounded toward the forest. He was running blind, using memory to follow the trail toward the moor’s edge. He ignored the foreboding gnawing in his belly.

  Don’t be dumb. He won’t hurt you. He’s your father.

  Jackdaw’s Cry caught up to him. “I can smell your fear-scent.”

  Thunder bristled. “So?”

  “You’re right to be scared.” The black tom fell in step. “Clear Sky has killed at least one cat, maybe two.”

  “I can handle him.” Thunder hoped it was true.

  “If there’s sign of trouble, we’re backing off, okay?” Jackdaw’s Cry turned his head and stared at Thunder. There was no fear in the tom’s gaze, only determination.

  “Okay.”

  The moor began to slope downward, steepening until they emerged from the fog. Thunder blinked, surprised by the sudden light. Behind, mist still hid the moor. Ahead, it swallowed the treetops, but the undergrowth was clear and he could see deep into the shadows of the forest.

  His nose twitched as he picked up a border scent. He slowed to a halt. It was his own scent, left only a few days ago as he’d marked out this border with Clear Sky. How strange to be an intruder now.

  Jackdaw’s Cry stopped beside him, his tongue showing as he tasted the air. A thick swath of ferns edged the trees. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Thunder murmured. He felt suddenly exposed. Why had Gray Wing sent them alone? Small prey attracts big prey. River Ripple’s words echoed in his mind.

  “Come on, then.” Jackdaw’s Cry strode across the boundary line, tail flicking.

  Thunder scanned the ferns for movement as he followed Jackdaw’s Cry. Anger growled in his belly. Why couldn’t they walk where they pleased without fear? Clear Sky had ruined everything with his fox-hearted boundaries.

  The forest floor rose toward a familiar strip of bracken. An old rabbit trail cut through it. He knew it well. It led straight to the camp. “Follow me.” He slid past Jackdaw’s Cry and headed up the slope.

  A hiss pierced his ear fur.

  He halted, hackles lifting.

  Yellow fur flashed from behind a tree.

  “What are you doing here?” Petal faced him, lips drawn back.

  Thunder flinched, shocked by her hostility. A few days ago, he’d watched her playing tail-chase with Alder and Birch, as gentle and loving as any mother. Now she looked as vicious as a cornered rogue. “Petal?” He spoke gently. She couldn’t have forgotten they’d been denmates. “How are the kits?”

  She spat, every hair bristling. “What’s that to do with you? Why are you on Clear Sky’s land?”

  “Jackdaw’s Cry!” A happy mew sounded from the bracken. Falling Feather burst out. “Relax, Petal. It’s my brother!” She raced down the slope and stopped, her eyes shining.

  “Falling Feather!” Jackdaw’s Cry stepped forward.

  A growl rumbled in Petal’s throat.

  Falling Feather stiffened, guilt clouding her gaze. She backed away from her brother, ducking behind Petal. “This isn’t your land,” she murmured stiffly. “You have to leave.”

  Jackdaw’s Cry objected. “But I haven’t seen you for—”

  Petal cut him off. “Falling Feather doesn’t belong with you anymore,” she snarled.

  “She’s still my littermate!”

  Littermate. Thunder felt a pang of grief for Jackdaw’s Cry. Longing echoed deep within him. He blinked, surprised at the pain.

  “Falling Feather chose to live in the forest with Clear Sky,” Petal growled. “Which means you live on opposite sides of the border. You shouldn’t be here.”

  Thunder hissed. “I’ve come to speak to my father.” He dug his claws into the earth. “We may have borders now, but he can’t forget that we come from the same place and share the same ancestors.”

  Petal padded closer, eyes slitted. “We don’t all come from the same place.” She circled Thunder, looking him up and down menacingly.

  He unsheathed the tips of his claws. If she wanted a fight, he was ready.

  Petal went on. “I’ve lived here my whole life, just like your mother. Clear Sky and these two might come from the mountains”—she scowled at Falling Feather and Jackdaw’s Cry—“but they chose different leaders. The only things we have in common with one another now are the boundaries Clear Sky set for us.”

  “That’s no reason we can’t live in peace,” Thunder pressed. “All cats have the same needs and the same instincts.”

  “Peace?” Petal snorted. “Ever since I was a kit, I’ve seen nothing but fights. Boundaries will put an end to that.”

  “Which is why we must speak to Clear Sky,” Thunder put in quickly. “We want to make sure that his boundaries bring peace, not conflict.”

  Falling Feather lifted her tail. “I’ll take you to him.” She ignored Petal’s growl. “But I can’t promise he’ll be pleased to see you.”

  Thunder snorted. I can’t promise I’ll be pleased to see him. “Let me worry about that,” he told her. “Just take us to the camp.” He knew he’d never forgive his father for the cruelty he’d shown. He glared at Petal. “Do you want to fight first or can we go?” Unsheathing his claws, an image flashed in his mind—him sinking them into her neck. He pushed it away as Petal backed off, her eyes glittering with unease. Am I as vicious as my father? His chest tightened.

  “Follow me.” Falling Feather duc
ked along the rabbit trail.

  Jackdaw’s Cry followed, Thunder falling in behind. He felt Petal’s breath at his heels and heard the bracken swish against her pelt.

  Falling Feather led them along a winding trail past hawthorns and ferns. Thunder could smell his own paws-scents, still faint along the route. His heart pounded harder as he recognized the bramble ahead. The camp lay beyond and, as he followed Jackdaw’s Cry past the prickly stems, he stiffened, his gaze quickly scanning the hollow.

  Prey-scent filled his nose. A pile lay at one side of the clearing. Another was heaped beside the roots of the oak. A few half-eaten carcasses were scattered along the bottom of the steep slope below the hawthorn, flies buzzing over them. Leaf, the black-and-white tom, lay dozing beside the yew. Fircone and Nettle groomed each other in the clearing. A skinny brown tom sat beside the brambles, his head bowed close to a sleek gray she-cat. They’re new. Thunder tasted the air, gathering their scent. They both had the notched ears of seasoned fighters. Was Clear Sky recruiting more cats?

  Movement above caught his eye.

  He jerked up his head.

  Clear Sky was watching him from a low oak branch, which hung across the clearing. His tail drooped over the side, its tip twitching as he glowered at Thunder. His gaze slid to Jackdaw’s Cry, narrowing, then flicked back. “I thought I’d seen the last of you, son.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Clear Sky curled his claws into the bark of the jutting oak branch, fighting to keep his pelt smooth. What’s Thunder doing here? He kept his gaze fixed on his son, giving nothing away as he steadied his breath.

  I trusted you, and you betrayed me.

  Clenching his teeth, he pushed himself slowly to his paws and jumped down into the clearing. Thunder faced him. Jackdaw’s Cry hung back, staying close to Falling Feather. Trust her to be mixed up in this.

  “She brought them here, not me.” Petal darted forward, ears flat as she jerked her muzzle toward the white she-cat.

  Falling Feather lifted her muzzle. “Do you want to hear what they have to say?” She stared at Clear Sky, unflinching.

  “It depends what it is.” Clear Sky slowly circled Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry. These cats should be afraid of him. They’d crossed the border. They walked into his camp. Let them know they aren’t safe here. He tightened his circle, nudging Jackdaw’s Cry with his shoulder as he passed.

  The black tom leaped back, hissing. “Don’t touch me!”

  He’s spooked. Satisfaction surged through Clear Sky as he thrust his muzzle close, one eye on Jackdaw’s Cry’s unsheathed claws. “Attack me if you want,” he challenged. He flicked his tail around the forest cats. Nettle and Fircone had padded closer. Thorn and Dew watched, their bristling pelts showing they were ready to fight if necessary. “You’ll die if you do.”

  Jackdaw’s Cry’s eyes sparked with fear.

  “Stop trying to scare him.” Thunder’s mew was sharp. “If you don’t want to hear why we came, then we’ll leave.”

  “If I let you.” Clear Sky turned on his son. Was that disappointment darkening Thunder’s gaze? Pain gripped his heart like claws. Does he actually think I’ve let him down? He squared his shoulders. “Okay,” he growled. “Let’s talk. But not here. I know somewhere we won’t be overheard.”

  Dew pricked her ears.

  Clear Sky growled at her. “Earn your place with us, and I might show it to you.” He turned, lashing his tail, and climbed the slope past his nest. “Falling Feather, you come too,” he called, not looking back. She needed to see he was in charge. Pushing under the hawthorn, he broke into open woodland. Ferns lined a ditch ahead. He leaped over them, landing lightly on the other side, and padded across the dusty forest floor.

  Paws thudded behind as, one at a time, the others leaped the ditch. He glanced over his shoulder. Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry were flanking Falling Feather like an escort. They are the intruders! A chill ran along his spine. Should he have brought more forest cats to stand guard while they talked?

  Don’t be flea-brained. They wouldn’t dare harm you here.

  Clear Sky led them over a rise and followed a dry streambed until it reached a wide oak. It was tall and ancient, its gnarled branches bare. A few leaves sprouted defiantly at the tips, but the tree would soon be dead. Its crooked roots snaked into the dusty bank. Water hadn’t flowed here since the end of the cold season, but when it had, it had hollowed a passage beneath the trunk. Clear Sky ducked into it and squeezed up through a hole into the hollow center of the rotting tree. He stayed near the hole, his tail touching the trunk, and waited for the others to worm their way after him.

  Thunder’s head popped up first. The young tom glanced around, eyes wide. Light from knotholes striped his head with gold. He scrambled onto the smooth earth that floored the hollow and faced Clear Sky.

  With a jolt, Clear Sky noticed that Thunder was bigger than he was now. He straightened, puffing out his fur while Falling Feather and Jackdaw’s Cry wriggled inside.

  Clear Sky felt safe in the confines of the tree. There was enough room for the four cats to sit, spines pressed against the trunk, a tail-length between their muzzles. But it would be hard for any cat to fight skillfully here. And being closest to the hole in the bottom would ensure him an easy escape route.

  Jackdaw’s Cry glanced warily up. A circle of light showed far above. His black pelt was pricking. Thunder shifted his paws as though he couldn’t get comfortable.

  Clear Sky watched them with satisfaction. I don’t want you to get comfortable.

  “What have you come to say?” he asked them bluntly.

  Thunder returned his gaze. “Gray Wing wants to meet you by the four trees in a few days.”

  Clear Sky’s ears twitched. “Why?”

  “To talk,” Jackdaw’s Cry grunted.

  Anger pressed in Clear Sky’s throat. Did they think he was such a mouse-brain? He knew Gray Wing was preparing for battle. Why go through the pretense of talking?

  “Gray Wing is worried about the borders,” Jackdaw’s Cry went on. “It’s not what we planned when we left the mountains. We’ve never lived with borders before. It’s making the cats nervous.”

  Clear Sky swallowed back frustration. If they wanted to pretend, he’d pretend. “Doesn’t Gray Wing realize yet that borders keep cats safe? This isn’t the mountain. The land stretches forever. Borders help us know where to roam and where to hunt. It’s the best way to avoid quarrels over prey.”

  Thunder frowned. “It would be if you didn’t keep shifting them.”

  “I only want my cats to flourish,” Clear Sky told him. “Just as Gray Wing wants his own cats to thrive.”

  “Flourish?” Jackdaw’s Cry curled his lip. “You sent Frost away to die. You trained Jagged Peak until you crippled him. You have orphan kits because you killed their mother. Do you call that ‘flourishing’?”

  Clear Sky thrust his muzzle toward the black tom, ignoring the guilt jabbing at his belly. “You know nothing! You listen to gossip like an old queen with nothing better to do.”

  Jackdaw’s Cry gazed back, unflinching. “I know what I see and what I hear. And none of the news from the forest has been good since you claimed it as your own.”

  Clear Sky stiffened against the fury pulsing through his blood. How dare this cat judge him? News? He flashed Thunder an accusing glare. It was you who spread it!

  His own son had betrayed him!

  Falling Feather turned to her brother. “We are flourishing,” she told him earnestly. “Our tribe grows bigger by the day.”

  “You’re no tribe!” Jackdaw’s Cry flashed back, shock showing in his eyes. “You’re a band of strays and rogues!”

  Falling Feather bristled. “We joined together to help each other,” she meowed fiercely. “We share prey and protect each other. We’re safer that way!”

  Thunder’s tail swished against the trunk. “We didn’t come here to argue,” he growled. “We came only to tell you that Gray Wing wants to talk by the four trees.” />
  Clear Sky frowned, angry at the bold way Thunder stared straight at him.

  “Will you meet him or not?”

  “I’ll meet him.” Clear Sky tipped his head. If Gray Wing was preparing for battle, it would be interesting to hear what he had to say. “But what we decide on that day will be final. No changing minds. No going back.” Would Gray Wing admit that he was preparing to fight? Clear Sky’s whiskers quivered. How far was his brother prepared to carry his lie? Was the meeting intended as a distraction or would it bring an open declaration of conflict?

  Either way, he’d be ready. And he was going to make sure Gray Wing kept his word. He eyed Jackdaw’s Cry, a plan flashing in his mind. If Gray Wing did try to trick him, he’d pay with the life of a camp mate.

  “Let’s get back to the camp.” He dived down through the hole and squeezed out onto the dry streambed.

  Trekking through the woods, he signaled Falling Feather to walk beside him. “You spoke well.” He praised her. He’d been impressed that she’d stood up for her new tribe. Perhaps she was loyal after all.

  As he pushed beneath the hawthorn and leaped down the bank, Nettle hurried across the clearing.

  “Is everything okay?” The young tom searched his gaze.

  “It’s fine.” Clear Sky glanced back as Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry followed Falling Feather into the clearing.

  Fircone limped from the oak tree.

  Clear Sky noticed Thunder staring anxiously at the tom’s swollen paw. “It’s just a scratch,” he growled. “My cats fight hard to defend our borders from passing strays. No cat makes the mistake of crossing our scent lines twice.”

  Thunder’s gaze moved to Dew and Thorn, still sitting beside the bramble. “How did they make it across?” he asked.

  “They asked permission.” Clear Sky padded toward them. “They wanted to join us.” Pleasure rippled though his pelt. “As did Snake.” He nodded toward the striped tabby tom, camouflaged in the shadows of the bramble.

  Snake got to his paws and padded out. He was lean and sleek and had the sharp eye of a hunter. Clear Sky had been pleased when he’d come to the border, asking to join shortly after Dew and Thorn. The forest cats were flourishing, no matter what Jackdaw’s Cry claimed. He turned to the black moor cat. “Snake was a rogue in Twolegplace. But he preferred to join us,” he boasted. “He knew he’d be well fed here.”