The First Battle Read online

  Jackdaw’s Cry’s gaze strayed toward the piles of prey. “A little too well fed,” he grunted.

  Clear Sky’s tail twitched irritably. Okay, so there was more prey here than they could eat. It’d start rotting soon and fill the camp with stench. But they weren’t dumb. They could bury carrion. Jackdaw’s Cry was missing the point. “Isn’t it better to have too much prey than not enough?”

  Jackdaw’s Cry didn’t answer.

  What was it about Gray Wing’s cats that made them so smug? Clear Sky scanned his own cats. At least they understood that life was harsh. “I’ve decided to meet with Gray Wing,” he told them.

  “When?” Fircone’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  Clear Sky paced. He realized they hadn’t discussed a specific time. “At full moon,” he decided. “In two days.” He stopped and stared at Jackdaw’s Cry. There was something else they hadn’t discussed. “This moor cat will remain here in the forest camp until after the meeting,” he growled. “If you must risk your leader, then they should risk something too.”

  “No!” Thunder flattened his ears.

  “It’s okay.” Jackdaw’s Cry stepped forward, his glance flicking toward Falling Feather. “I’ll stay if that’s what it takes.”

  Clear Sky’s paws pricked with satisfaction. “Good.” He flicked his tail toward his camp mates. “If anything does happen to me at the meeting, you can decide what to do with Jackdaw’s Cry.” He noticed Thunder’s pelt ripple uneasily and his satisfaction deepened. “Don’t worry,” he purred to his son. “I’m sure they’ll be fair.” He dipped his head. The meeting had gone better than he’d hoped. “Thank you for coming. You can leave now. And Jackdaw’s Cry—” He turned his head toward the young black tom. Jackdaw’s Cry lifted his chin defiantly, but unease glittered in his gaze. “We appreciate your staying with us. We’ll make sure you’re well fed and safe. And we’ll only keep you until after I come home from the meeting.” There was no harm in making sure that Thunder understood the importance of his returning from the four trees safely.

  Thunder curled his lip. “You can trust Gray Wing.” There was insolence in his mew.

  Clear Sky watched him head out of camp. “Tell my brother that next time he should bring his message himself!” he called as Thunder disappeared behind the brambles. “Only kits hide.”

  Clear Sky padded to the oak, clawing his way up the trunk, past the low branch he’d been sitting on earlier and up to the next. He leaned back and gazed to the top. This was the highest tree around, thick with leaves. Jumping to the next branch, then the next, he climbed higher and higher, his long claws hooking easily into the rugged bark. As the thick branches gave way to slender stems, he paused and peered through the leaves. From here, he could see the forest stretch to Twolegplace and beyond, the land curve toward the rolling horizon. There was more territory than he could ever have imagined while he lived among the craggy peaks of the mountains. And every tail-length teemed with prey. Here he could build a tribe of healthy, strong cats. No kit need ever go hungry; no mother need starve until her milk dried up. His heart quickened. Why did no cat seem to understand that this was all he wanted? He’d never wanted to do harm.

  But he would do whatever it took to keep his cats safe.

  If I’d known Misty had been fighting to protect Alder and Birch, I’d have gone easier on her. Agonizing emptiness opened in Clear Sky’s chest. Instead he’d killed her, and now Gray Wing and the other cats on the moor believed he’d killed Bumble too. How could he make peace with cats who believed he was a murderer? He closed his eyes, his thoughts spinning.

  All I can do now is protect my own cats. He clung tight to the tree. There was no hope now of peacefully sharing this land. Determination surged through him. Unhooking his claws, he dropped onto the branch beneath. Slithering down the trunk, he called to Petal. She was sitting near the yew, Alder and Birch at her side. “Gather every cat!” She leaped to her paws. “We must prepare for battle!”

  “Are you sure?” Petal stared as he leaped from the trunk and landed heavily on the ground. Her eyes were wide.

  Clear Sky strode across the clearing, not even meeting her gaze. “Just do it.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The sun had burned the mist from the moor by the time Thunder reached the boundary between Clear Sky and Gray Wing’s territory. He leaped up the slope, swishing through the ferns. At the top, he paused. Heather stretched toward the wide, blue sky. He relished the sun’s warmth on his pelt after the extended shade of the forest. What would Jackdaw’s Cry be doing? Would Falling Feather help him build a temporary nest? He glanced back at the trees uneasily.

  Should I have left him?

  I had no choice. Jackdaw’s Cry had volunteered. His sister was with him. And Clear Sky had promised to keep the tom safe until the meeting at the four trees. Thunder quickened his pace. He pushed through a patch of heather, following a sheep trail that cut between the springy branches. It led out onto a smooth stretch of grass. He breathed the sweet scent of heather blossom and broke into a run.

  As Thunder was lost in his own thoughts, paws slammed hard into his flank.

  Yowling with surprise, Thunder flew sprawling onto the grass. The stench of tom filled his nose. Thunder unsheathed his claws and twisted to face his attacker, whose copper fur blotted out the sky. The tom crashed into him again, heavier than a badger. Claws latched onto his pelt as the cat rolled him over in the grass. Blood pounded in Thunder’s ears as he struggled to bend his hind legs and rake the tom’s belly. But paws held him too tight. The world spun. Panic rising, Thunder dragged a forepaw free and slashed the tom’s nose. His claws ripped flesh. The tom screeched and let go. Thunder was suddenly rolling alone across the grass. He dug his wide paws in and leaped up, turning on his attacker.

  The copper-colored tom was sitting back on his haunches a tail-length away, rubbing his nose. “What did you do that for?” he demanded ruefully. “I was just playing!”

  “Playing?” Thunder glared at him. “You sheathe claws when you’re playing!”

  The tom licked his paw and ran it over his face, cleaning the blood from his dark moleskin muzzle. He sat up straight and met Thunder’s gaze. A fresh drop of blood welled on his wound.

  Thunder snorted. The wound might teach him some manners. The tom was as big as Thunder, but there was no sign of muscle rippling under his pelt. His wide flanks bulged and his belly sagged around his paws. His pelt looked as silky as kit fur. Thunder narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t seen him on the moor before. “Who are you?”

  “Tom.”

  “I know you’re a tom.” This cat really was dumb. “What’s your name?” Thunder paused as he noticed something shiny glinting at the tom’s throat. A twine was caught around his neck.

  “What’s that?” Thunder jerked his muzzle toward the band digging into the tom’s fur.

  The tom frowned. “What’s what?”

  “The thing around your neck?” Hadn’t he noticed?

  “It’s my collar.” Now the tom stared at Thunder as though he were stupid.

  Thunder grunted. Of course! I’m the dumb one! This soft, fat cat with no manners was a kittypet. I should have guessed. “Your name is Tom.”

  Tom shrugged. “That’s what my housefolk call me.”

  Housefolk? He must mean Twolegs. Thunder knew that Turtle Tail had stayed with Twolegs for a while. Had they named her She-cat?

  Tom delicately flicked a grass seed from his ear with a paw. Then he stuck out his tongue and licked his nose, the tip touching the blood still welling there. “Did you have to scratch me?” he mewed irritably. “I hope it doesn’t leave a scar. My housefolk will be sad.”

  “Why?” Thunder frowned. “It’s not their nose that’s scratched.”

  “They like me to look handsome.” Tom stared across the heather. “Do you live around here?” His mew was casual, but his gaze was taking in every flickering stem and trembling sprig of heather.

  Thunder’s paws pricked with unease. This
cat was after something. “Why are you here?”

  Tom blinked at him slowly. “I’m looking for a friend.”

  Thunder’s fur began to lift along his spine.

  “Someone I used to know.” Tom gave a long sigh and stretched his forepaws out, bending his back till his round belly touched the earth. A shiver ran along his tail. “Her name’s Bumble. We used to play together.”

  Thunder stiffened. “Bumble?” He realized this cat had no idea that his friend was dead.

  “I’m bored without her,” Tom meowed absently. “I thought it might be nice to find her and play with her again.”

  Thunder dropped his gaze. How could he tell this cat that Bumble had been killed? “I—I’m sorry,” he began awkwardly.

  Tom’s gaze snapped toward him. “Sorry? About what?”

  “Your friend, Bumble.” Thunder shifted his weight from paw to paw. “She’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Tom jabbed his muzzle forward. “How can she be dead? What happened?”

  Thunder’s thoughts whirled. “We don’t really know.” He glanced down the slope to where they’d found Bumble dying. “Do you want to see her grave?”

  “Her grave?” Tom’s sleek fur was fluffed out now, his eyes sparking with disbelief.

  “They buried her,” Thunder explained. “Gray Wing and the others. They were the ones who found her.”

  “Found her?”

  “I’ll show you.” Thunder headed for the heather and pushed through, following a rabbit trail toward the patch of land where Bumble had been killed. He heard branches swish behind as Tom followed. “Here.” He stopped as he reached the grassy clearing. The grass was still stained with blood. A mound of freshly dug earth marked Bumble’s grave. Thunder shuddered at the lingering scent of death.

  Tom paced around the bloody markings, his nose trailing over the grass.

  Thunder watched him sadly. “When they found her it was too late to save her.”

  The tom didn’t seem to hear. He was murmuring to himself. “I can make out . . .” He darted to another patch. “I can make out . . .” He lifted his head, his eyes lighting. “Badger! Is that what killed her?”

  Thunder shook his head, sorrow for this poor dumb cat welling in his chest. “It’s fox scent,” he corrected. “It attacked her. She couldn’t—”

  Tom interrupted. “There’s another smell.” He was sniffing a fresh patch of grass. “A cat, right? A tom?” He stared at Thunder.

  Thunder’s tail twitched. Should he mention Clear Sky? He’d been here after she’d died. And before.

  Tom sniffed the grass again. “I know this smell. It’s that vicious rogue, right? The one that’s been making borders everywhere. The one the other kittypets have been talking about.”

  Pain clawed Thunder’s heart. My father, a vicious rogue? “Maybe.”

  Tom padded closer. “Why did you mountain cats have to come here? You’ve been nothing but trouble. Even Turtle Tail! She came to live with us, then ran away, carrying my kits.” A sneer twisted his lip.

  Thunder showed his teeth as the tom’s stinking breath bathed his muzzle. “She didn’t just ‘run away.’ Turtle Tail came home. Where she belonged!”

  Tom growled. “She stole what was mine.” He began to pace, shoulders low, tail twitching angrily. “And Bumble followed her, the mouse-brain!” He glanced angrily at Bumble’s grave. “She was worried about her. And it got her killed.” He halted. His agitated gaze suddenly softened.

  Thunder watched him warily. This cat was forcing himself to appear calm. Why?

  “You sound like you know Turtle Tail.” His mew was suddenly as sweet as blossom scent.

  Thunder nodded cautiously.

  “Will you take me to meet her?”

  Thunder hesitated.

  “Bumble was so worried about her,” Tom pleaded, rounding his eyes. “She died trying to find out if she and the kits were okay. The kits are okay, aren’t they?”

  “They’re fine.” Thunder swallowed. He should leave before this tom asked any more questions. Something wasn’t right. “I have to go.”

  “Then you know where they are?” Tom pressed. “And Turtle Tail?”

  “Someone’s waiting for me.” Gray Wing would want to hear how the meeting with Clear Sky had gone.

  “Will you take me to her?” Tom didn’t blink. “She was very fond of me. I know she’d like to see me again.”

  “I’ll tell her I saw you.” Thunder backed away.

  Tom’s eyes lit up. “Tell her I’m here.” He sat down on Bumble’s grave. “Tell her I’m not going anywhere till I’ve seen her. Tell her I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

  A chill rippled through Thunder’s fur. “Okay.” He glanced up the slope. He could see the hollow in the hillside where the camp nestled, and felt relieved that swaths of heather shielded it from view. A dark sense of foreboding told him that this tom shouldn’t know where Turtle Tail lived. “I’ll tell her.” He raced up the hill, plunging through the heather. He zigzagged, following the freshest rabbit tracks, hoping their dung would put Tom off his scent trail if he tried to track him later.

  As he neared the hollow, he imagined Gray Wing waiting. Excitement began to prick in his paws. Clear Sky had agreed to a meeting. There was going to be peace after all.

  CHAPTER 9

  Gray Wing shook Sparrow Fur from his shoulders, and the kit tumbled to the ground with a wail. “You promised me a long badger ride!”

  “Sorry, Sparrow Fur.” Gray Wing was out of breath. “Maybe later.”

  “But you carried Owl Eyes around the hollow twice!”

  Turtle Tail padded forward and nuzzled the tortoiseshell she-kit. “Once is enough for now,” she murmured. “Let Gray Wing rest.” She nosed the kit gently away. Owl Eyes was play fighting with Jagged Peak in the long grass beside the heather. “Go and join those two. Owl Eyes looks like he needs help.” Jagged Peak was squashing Owl Eyes beneath his belly while the gray kit flailed his paws and squealed with frustration.

  Sparrow Fur gasped. “Owl Eyes!” She charged toward him. “I’ll save you!”

  Jagged Peak’s whiskers twitched as he spotted her. “Hurry up!” he teased. “I’m going to squash him flat!”

  “Where’s Pebble Heart?” Gray Wing hardly listened for an answer. He stared toward the distant moor, scanning the horizon for movement while worry spiraled in his belly.

  “He’s helping Cloud Spots make ointment for Frost.” Turtle Tail nudged his cheek with her muzzle. “Can you see them?”

  Gray Wing knew she was talking about Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry. They should be home by now. He remembered Jackdaw’s Cry’s parting words. We’ll be back before the sun’s burned away the mist. The sun was high. The fog had melted away long ago.

  “Are you wheezing again?” Turtle Tail pressed closer.

  “A little.” His chest was tight. He’d been trying to ignore it. Since breathing smoke from the forest fire, Gray Wing sometimes struggled to find breath. Especially when he was anxious.

  Turtle Tail touched her flank to his. “They’ll be fine,” she promised. “They’re both strong, brave cats.”

  He wanted to believe her, but knew she was just trying to soothe him. Fear edged her mew. She thought that Clear Sky had murdered her friend Bumble. Why would she believe he would spare two intruders from the moor?

  I should have gone with them. Gray Wing shivered, cold despite the scorching sunshine. He dragged his gaze from the far slopes and glanced around the camp, taking comfort from the familiar faces.

  Lightning Tail and Acorn Fur sat beside the gap in the heather, watching for their father’s return. Hawk Swoop paced beside the flat rock where Tall Shadow was sitting. The black she-cat was staring across the moor, ears pricked.

  Wind Runner lay at the edge of the clearing, her bulging belly rising and falling. Her eyes were closed against the bright sunshine but her ears twitched each time grass swished beyond the heather wall.

  Rainswept Flower crouched besid
e her, nudging a ball of soaked moss closer. “Have a drink,” she urged. “You must be thirsty.”

  As Wind Runner lapped at the moss, Gorse Fur paced behind them, his long tail twitching. “Shall I go hunting?” he called to Tall Shadow. “I could head for the forest border and see if there’s any sign of them.”

  “Don’t go alone,” Tall Shadow answered.

  Hawk Swoop crossed the clearing toward Gorse Fur. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Me too.” Shattered Ice ducked out from beneath the bramble, his green eyes sharp with worry.

  “Wait!” Tall Shadow suddenly stretched onto her hind legs, eyes fixed on the moor. “I can see Thunder!”

  Gray Wing darted across the clearing, Turtle Tail at his heels, and rushed through the gap in the heather.

  Lightning Tail called after him. “Is Jackdaw’s Cry there too?”

  Gray Wing didn’t answer. There was no sign of the black tom. But Thunder was racing toward the hollow.

  Gray Wing met him on the grassy clearing outside, scrambling to a halt as Thunder reached him. “What did Clear Sky say? Will he meet me?”

  “Yes.” Thunder skidded on the grass.

  Gray Wing saw the young tom’s gaze flick nervously toward Turtle Tail. Something’s wrong. Before he could ask, Hawk Swoop barged past.

  “Where’s Jackdaw’s Cry?” She scanned the heather.

  Gray Wing tasted the air. No scent of the black tom. Thunder had returned alone.

  Thunder stared at Gray Wing. “Clear Sky will meet you at full moon by the four trees.”

  Gray Wing’s heart quickened. “That’s great news!” Dare he hope that battle could be avoided? His mind started to whirl. What if he couldn’t find the right words to persuade Clear Sky to see reason and stop moving his boundaries? What if he made battle come sooner by saying the wrong thing?