Gasps of astonishment came from the cats around him, and Clear Sky himself was shocked. “Is that my son talking?” he asked. “The brave warrior Thunder, with his great leaps and huge paws? He’s really backing away from action?”
Thunder took a pace forward, glancing around the assembled cats. “We’ve seen so much death and destruction,” he explained. “The spirit-cats told us to unite or die. Maybe One Eye will be happy now that he has the forest, so we should give it to him.”
Clear Sky stared at his son, feeling that he scarcely recognized him. “You’d be happy with that, would you? Think how well you hunt in among the trees. You’d be happy never to go back there?”
Doubt clouded Thunder’s face. “I don’t know,” he confessed, scraping at the ground with one massive paw. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
“We all are,” Clear Sky retorted. “But the right thing isn’t nothing.”
“And what about Acorn Fur?” Lightning Tail asked. “I’m not going to abandon my sister to stay in the forest with One Eye.”
“Okay,” Thunder conceded, though he still didn’t look happy. “But we drive One Eye out. We don’t kill him. That would make us just as bad as he is.”
Good luck with that, Clear Sky thought, knowing how vicious the rogue was. Aloud, he said, “That’s fine with me . . . provided we can make him leave.”
As Thunder and Clear Sky faced each other, a she-cat’s voice rang out from the top of the hollow. “Can I help at all?”
Lightning Tail turned around, his pelt bristling with irritation. But he said nothing.
“Who is this?” Clear Sky asked his son as the she-cat began padding gracefully down the slope. She’s certainly a beautiful cat, he thought, admiring her golden tabby fur and her green eyes that shone brilliantly in the fading daylight.
No cat replied until the newcomer reached the bottom of the hollow. “My name is Star Flower,” she purred, giving Clear Sky a polite nod. “I’m a rogue cat looking for a home. And if there’s any fighting to be done, I’m a great cat to have on your side. Just ask Thunder. . . .”
Every cat turned to look at Thunder. Clear Sky saw his son shifting about on his paws, looking utterly embarrassed. So that’s Star Flower! Clear Sky was unable to stifle his amusement in spite of the serious problems they were facing. Who would have thought it? Thunder is padding after this pretty she-cat!
But the other cats clearly didn’t share his amusement.
“Your help isn’t needed,” Lightning Tail meowed, still stiff and bristling. Quickly he drew a paw through the markings Gray Wing had made in the earth, though Clear Sky noticed that Star Flower had already managed to take a quick glance at them.
Star Flower met Lightning Tail’s glare. “That’s fine,” she mewed smoothly. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.” She began to move off.
Clear Sky opened his jaws to say something, but Thunder got there first. “Star Flower, come back!” he exclaimed.
The other cats didn’t bother to hide their murmurs of surprise.
“What’s wrong?” Thunder demanded, rounding on them. “Don’t you think we need help right now? Didn’t you hear her name? Star Flower! She is the one who told me that the Blazing Star can save us from the sickness. She might know where more is growing, and you want to turn her away?”
Star Flower halted, dipping her head modestly. “I do know a lot about the plants around here,” she purred. “But I think I should leave now. I sense that I’m not entirely welcome.”
“No, don’t go!” Thunder begged.
Clear Sky watched as Thunder and Star Flower gazed into each other’s eyes. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” the rogue she-cat promised. “Maybe by then, things will have had a chance to calm down.” She turned and padded away.
As he faced the group of cats again, Thunder’s eyes blazed with fury, and he flexed his claws angrily. “Thank you for your ‘support,’” he choked out, his voice thick with sarcasm.
“Thunder,” Clear Sky began diplomatically, “these are confusing times. It’s hard to know which cat to trust.”
“You trusted One Eye, didn’t you?” Thunder spat at him.
“Yes, and look where that got me!” Clear Sky retorted.
Thunder shook his head in disgust, and Clear Sky expected him to race off in pursuit of Star Flower. He was surprised when the young cat showed enough maturity to stay with the group.
“So, what is our plan?” Thunder asked in a grudging tone. “We lure One Eye into the empty space on the moors and . . . what then?”
Gray Wing retraced his markings in the earth and then continued. “I think we should attack from all sides,” he meowed, pointing with his paw as he named each place. “From here, from Wind Runner’s home . . . maybe we should see if any of the forest cats will help us.”
“I’ll never believe Acorn Fur would willingly support One Eye,” Lightning Tail put in.
“Or Quick Water, either,” Tall Shadow meowed from her place on top of the rock.
“And I’m sure Petal will be on my side,” Clear Sky added.
Gray Wing nodded agreement. “I’ll ask River Ripple for his help, too.”
“That could work,” Tall Shadow pronounced from where she still sat on the rock. “But how do we get One Eye onto the moor in the first place?”
“And without his rogues,” Jagged Peak pointed out. “We can’t attack One Eye if he hides behind that mangy lot.”
Clear Sky felt a heavy weight in his belly, as if he had swallowed a rock. He knew that this was his moment to make it up to his friends for all the mistakes he had made. “Which cat does One Eye despise more than any other cat?” he asked. They all stared at him, but no cat dared utter a word, so he answered for them. “Me. One Eye taunted me when we met by the Thunderpath, saying I could never beat him. If he thinks I’ve challenged him to a one-on-one fight, he’s sure to come.
“I’ll go out there on my own,” he continued, “but you all need to make it count. If you don’t spring out in time, I’m a dead cat.”
“Clear Sky, you can’t,” Gray Wing protested. “It’s too dangerous.”
But Clear Sky had made up his mind. “I brought One Eye here, and I’ll be the one to see him thrown out again. I don’t want to die, but I won’t stand back and see other cats die, either. Let’s drive out One Eye, and then we can tackle this sickness.”
Seeing his friends’ nods of assent, and hearing a few murmurs of admiration, Clear Sky allowed a flicker of hope to awaken in his chest. We’re uniting against the rogue, he thought. Maybe this is what the spirit-cats meant.
CHAPTER 21
When the discussion was over, Gray Wing did not retire to his den. Instead he padded up the slope to the edge of the hollow and sat for a while, gazing at the sky as night fell and the moon appeared, swollen, almost full. Not a cloud could be seen, and the silver shape shed its frosty radiance over the moor, lighting up every rock and blade of grass.
Good, Gray Wing thought. I need all the help I can get tonight.
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no cat was following him, he headed onto the moor, making his way toward the empty area in the center where he had suggested that Clear Sky should confront One Eye. He intended to use the night to survey the terrain, pick out a good spot for Clear Sky to wait, and make sure there were no nasty surprises lurking.
It’s all very well, scratching out battle plans in the earth, but if anything goes wrong it will be my fault. I meant to give the leadership to Thunder, he added wryly to himself. And here I am, back in the middle of the trouble.
When the hollow was a good way behind him, Gray Wing began searching for the best place for the fight. He needed an open space that was near to some cover. Outcrops of rock, dips in the ground, thorn bushes . . . all places where Clear Sky’s allies could hide. It would be no good if the cats who were ready to help Clear Sky had no chance of reaching him in time.
Gray Wing was padding around a gorse thicket, working o
ut how many cats could be concealed inside it, when the hot stink of fox hit him in the throat.
Ugh, what a reek! he thought, stiffening.
There was a tang of blood on the air, too; the creature had killed, and would be on its way back to its den. And good riddance.
Leaving the gorse thicket, Gray Wing padded off to investigate a tumble of boulders that gleamed eerily white in the moonlight, except where patches of lichen stained the surface.
They cast a deep shadow over the moor, and as Gray Wing stepped into it his paws gave way beneath him. The ground was loose and sandy; he slid down helplessly, paws scrabbling for a grip. From the bottom of the pit something darker than the shadows reared up, and a terrible snarling filled the air.
The fox!
Panic gave Gray Wing extra strength. Digging his claws into the loose earth he forced himself upward. The top of the dip was a tail-length away.
Yeowch!
A sharp pain pierced Gray Wing’s hind leg as the fox’s teeth met in it, and he was dragged down to the bottom again.
No! With a yowl of agony and terror Gray Wing struggled to pull away, but the fox’s teeth only sank deeper. He had never felt such excruciating pain, not even in the forest fire. Fierce, hungry eyes gleamed from the darkness as Gray Wing twisted his body and lashed out with his forepaws, trying to sink his claws into his attacker. But the fox didn’t let go.
In the midst of the struggle Gray Wing spotted a couple of bats flitting across the face of the moon. Their shadows swept over him. He closed his eyes and thought of the kits he had raised with Turtle Tail. Will that be the last thing I ever see?
The fox was flinging him to and fro by his hind leg; as Gray Wing thumped against the ground, the breath was driven out of him and he felt the familiar tightness in his chest. His strength was ebbing; there was nothing he could do to save himself.
Then he heard a loud and angry hissing coming from somewhere up above. The fox must have heard it too, and paused for a moment, letting Gray Wing dangle from its jaws. In the brief respite Gray Wing looked up and saw Slate, Wind Runner’s friend, peering around the nearest boulder.
“Run!” Gray Wing choked out.
Instead Slate stepped out of cover and circled the top of the dip, her hissing changing to a deep, threatening growl. She didn’t seem at all afraid of the fox.
“You think you can fight, flea-pelt?” she taunted it. “Come and try!”
Though the fox couldn’t understand her words, the mockery was clear enough. With a snarl of rage it dropped Gray Wing to the floor of the dip. Winded and shaking, Gray Wing looked up to see the fox leaping up the slope and flinging itself at Slate.
But Slate was faster. Spinning around, she darted away. Gray Wing lost sight of her until he managed to scramble out of the dip. Then he saw her racing for the nearest thorn tree, her tail streaming out behind her.
The fox pursued her more slowly; Gray Wing saw that it was limping, and briefly glimpsed the gleam of exposed bone on its shoulder.
Ah, it’s been injured, he thought. That must be why it was lurking down there.
Slate reached the thorn tree and leaped into the branches, climbing nimbly to the very top. The moonlight turned her thick, gray pelt to silver and her eyes shone like two tiny moons. The branch swayed beneath her and she balanced there without a trace of fear.
“Oh, aren’t you clever!” she teased the fox. “You’ve trapped me in this tree. I’m so scared!”
Even though he was injured and exhausted, Gray Wing could feel laughter bubbling up inside him. The fox looked so frustrated, snarling and scraping at the tree trunk. It couldn’t get at Slate, and it must have realized that she could jump down and outpace him anytime she liked.
Creeping cautiously, hampered by the pain in his leg, Gray Wing slid between two of the boulders into a narrow gap where the fox couldn’t follow. Turning in the tight space, he settled down to rest and watch what would happen next.
He had to admit, he admired Slate’s bravery. She was attacked by a fox, and her brother died saving her. But she still risked being attacked again to help me.
For a long time neither Slate nor the fox moved. All Gray Wing could hear was the flutter and squeaking of the bats. Then from farther across the moor he heard the bark of another fox.
Oh, no! he thought, tensing with fear. How are we going to cope with two of them?
But to his relief the injured fox staggered to its paws, and when the distant barking was repeated it limped off in the direction of the sound. Slate waited for a few moments after it vanished into the darkness, then jumped down from the tree and headed back toward the boulders.
Gathering his strength, Gray Wing crawled out of his hiding place to meet her. “Thank you!” he exclaimed. “You were great!”
Slate padded past him without a pause and Gray Wing gazed after her. Bemused, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “Follow me!” she called.
Gray Wing did as she told him, trying to get his breathing back under control. I don’t want her to think I’m totally pathetic!
Slate led him across the moor until they came to a small, hidden pool surrounded by rushes that bent and swayed in the night breeze with a peaceful rustling sound. The gray she-cat padded out into the water until it covered her paws, breaking up the smooth surface into a silver dazzle.
“Come on,” she meowed to Gray Wing, beckoning him with a flick of her ears.
As Gray Wing waded out to join her, he was surprised to feel that the water was almost warm, even though it was the middle of the night.
“Why—” he began.
“The water is very shallow here,” Slate explained, guessing what he was about to say. “It sits on top of black rocks that soak up the sun’s heat. Even at night the pool keeps some of the warmth. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It feels wonderful!” Gray Wing agreed, relaxing into the gentle lapping. Who would have thought wet paws could be so pleasant?
“The rocks around here are called slate,” the she-cat told him. “I was named after them. We can use the water to clean your pelt from that fox attack.”
Gray Wing stood still and allowed Slate to scoop water over his hind leg until the pain had almost faded away. “That feels much better,” he mewed.
“You’re very lucky,” Slate told him, giving the wound a sniff. “The teethmarks haven’t gone too deep.” Looking up into Gray Wing’s face, she continued, “How do you like my secret hideaway? You should feel very lucky I’ve shared it with you. Only special cats are invited here.”
Gray Wing felt his pelt prickle with embarrassment. “I’m not used to any cat making such a fuss over me,” he muttered.
Slate’s amber eyes stretched wide with surprise. “You don’t know how respected you are?” she asked.
Now it was Gray Wing’s turn to be surprised. “How do you know what any other cats think of me?” he asked curiously. “You live with Wind Runner, far away from any other cats on the moor.”
“But I believe everything Wind Runner has to say,” Slate responded. “And she has a lot to say about you—all of it good.”
Gray Wing was so stunned by the she-cat’s words that he didn’t know what to say. Wading out of the shallow pond, he gave each paw in turn a shake. “I . . . uh . . . must get back to the hollow,” he mumbled. “They need me there.”
“Really?” Slate jumped gracefully out of the water and stood on the bank by his side. “When we met the other day, you gave me the impression that you had mixed feelings about your home in the hollow.”
Gray Wing looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You just didn’t seem very settled,” Slate replied with a shrug. “I mean, what were you doing wandering around on the moor by yourself at night, anyway?”
Her questions disconcerted Gray Wing. “If you must know,” he meowed defensively, “I was surveying the land.”
Slate let out a surprised mrrow of laughter. “You were what?”
“To
find a good spot for a battle,” Gray Wing explained. A moment later, not knowing quite how it happened, he found the whole story pouring out: how One Eye had driven Clear Sky out of the forest, and how Gray Wing and his friends had planned to lure him out onto the moor and confront him. “It was my plan, and I had to make sure it was going to work,” he finished. “I just hadn’t counted on meeting angry foxes in pain. . . .”
As she listened, Slate dried her fur on some of the long grasses that grew beside the pool. “It sounds like a great plan,” she mewed as she weaved in and out among the stems. “I’d like to help.”
“No!” Gray Wing protested immediately. “This isn’t your problem. We can’t involve you in the fighting.”
“Who said anything about fighting?” Slate asked. “But you’ll need help from Wind Runner and Gorse Fur, and they surely won’t want to leave their kits alone. If they’re willing to fight One Eye, then I’ll look after the kits. You had thought about their kits’ safety, hadn’t you?”
“Yes, I had!” Gray Wing spluttered, realizing that he had not. “I’d be so grateful if you’d take care of them while we fight,” he went on, his head hanging in shame. “Will I ever have any reason to stop thanking you for your help? I don’t seem very capable without you. . . .”
“Of course you are!” Slate reassured him. She made her way over to him and touched his shoulder with her tail-tip. “Which cat came up with the whole plan to defeat One Eye? You! Come on,” she continued. “I’ll walk with you back to your hollow—you know, that place you love so much.”
Gray Wing felt curiously peaceful as he and Slate padded side by side back toward the camp. Their paw steps matched so well, and he felt as though he’d known her for seasons.
I may as well tell her everything, he thought.
“If all goes well in the battle,” he began, “I may have the chance to explore other ideas. To try living somewhere else, even if it does mean being on my own for a while.”
Slate did not pause in her steady pacing across the moor, but she drew closer to him so that their pelts brushed. “You don’t have to be alone,” she murmured, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight.