In response, Gray Wing leaped away, racing through the trees toward the hollow. “You’d have to catch me first!” he called back over his shoulder.
When Gray Wing reached the edge of the hollow, he spotted Thunder at the far side, near the rock where Tall Shadow kept watch. Mouse Ear and Mud Paws were with him.
As he padded toward them, Gray Wing realized that Thunder was teaching the former rogues how to use the rabbit burrows when they were hunting. “Jump out like this!” he instructed, pushing off with his hind legs into a massive leap from a crouching start.
Gray Wing watched, the sight calling up the memory of when he was training Thunder, along with Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail. I still can’t believe Acorn Fur lives with Clear Sky now, Gray Wing thought sadly. He forced his mind into a happier path, recalling earlier practices—how Thunder used to trip over his large, white paws when he was a kit.
Not anymore.
Gray Wing let out a purr of satisfaction. Thunder had grown into a formidable cat. He’s come a long way. I can step back and know the group is safe.
A scamper of paw steps distracted Gray Wing from his thoughts as Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes rushed past him, eager to join the training session.
“Hey! You know better than that!” Thunder called sharply as they tumbled into the group.
Sparrow Fur had barreled straight against Mouse Ear, who stared down at her in shock and snarled, “Get off my paws, midget!”
The young she-cat’s eyes sparkled and she gave Mouse Ear a teasing nip on the back of the leg before she jumped back. Mouse Ear let out a growl and batted at her, but his paw barely skimmed her fur, and his claws were sheathed.
“Annoying furball!” he muttered.
Thunder rolled his eyes. “This is a training session, not a wrestling match,” he meowed, giving Sparrow Fur a hard stare. “Now concentrate! Let’s see your pouncing again. See that stone over there? Pretend it’s a mouse!” He watched approvingly as all the cats crouched and then leaped for the imaginary prey.
“Oh, stop whining and just do it! You’d think you didn’t have paws at all!”
Gray Wing jumped with shock as the mocking voice interrupted the training session. It was coming from just outside the hollow, and for a moment he couldn’t identify the cat who had spoken. Slightly disturbed, he climbed the slope again.
Beyond the camp Gray Wing spotted Jagged Peak, halfway up one of the twisted thorn trees that grew nearby. He was clinging to a branch, his claws sunk deeply into the bark, his eyes wide with apprehension.
Holly stood at the other side of a narrow gully that became a stream after heavy rain. She was looking up at Jagged Peak with a smirk on her face.
“Come on!” she repeated. “Just jump! I’m not standing here all morning listening to you complain.”
Gray Wing felt his heart begin to beat faster and his shoulder fur bristle as he started toward them. What is Holly doing? Jagged Peak can’t make that jump!
“You should talk!” Jagged Peak retorted to the she-cat. “After the way you’ve been whining about having to share prey!”
Gray Wing halted as his younger brother hurled himself out of the tree, easily clearing the gully and landing beside Holly with a thump.
“See, I did it,” he meowed, giving her a smug look. “Happy now?”
A half-stifled mrrow of laughter sounded behind Gray Wing, who turned to see Cloud Spots padding up to him.
“It’s not funny!” Gray Wing snapped. “That new rogue is picking on Jagged Peak. Someone needs to teach her . . .” His voice trailed off as he noticed the amusement glimmering in Cloud Spots’s eyes.
“Stay out of it,” Cloud Spots advised him. “I don’t believe it’s what you think it is. Besides, Jagged Peak can take care of himself.”
Can he? Gray Wing asked himself. Ever since his younger brother was injured falling out of a tree he had always assumed that Jagged Peak couldn’t take care of himself. Have I been unfair to him?
Leaving Holly and Jagged Peak to their own peculiar kind of training, Gray Wing headed back into the hollow, to where Thunder and his cats were still practicing their pounces. Before he reached them, Pebble Heart appeared out of their den, and padded up to walk alongside him.
Since he was a young kit, the tabby tom had shown healing skills, sometimes mysteriously knowing how to treat illnesses without being told. He had strange dreams, too: Gray Wing’s pelt prickled as he remembered Pebble Heart telling him about a dream of cats screeching and clawing at one another—a vision of the battle before it took place.
Since Turtle Tail’s death, Gray Wing sensed that something had changed deep inside Pebble Heart. He seemed more thoughtful and focused. After the battle he had helped to take care of the wounded, showing infinite patience and the authority of a much older cat. Gray Wing had the feeling that the little tom’s paws might be small now, but the steps he was destined to take would be big.
A surge of warmth swelled up inside Gray Wing’s chest and, for once, it was nothing to do with his breathing problems. I promise I’ll be a good father to all three of these kits. I’ll do my very best for them.
“Have you had any more dreams?” he asked Pebble Heart.
“No . . .” Pebble Heart replied hesitantly.
But Gray Wing felt certain that his adopted son wasn’t telling him everything. Sadness and anger mingled in his heart. Surely if there’s any cat he can trust, it’s me? But then he reminded himself that Pebble Heart would share his secrets when the time was right. Nothing would be gained by nagging him.
Gray Wing comforted himself with the thought that he had allowed Thunder to find his own path. And look at him now—teaching the younger cats and the rogues. He’s every bit a leader!
“Okay, keep practicing,” Thunder told the other cats, before breaking away and padding up to Gray Wing. “Did you see Clear Sky or any of the others while you were out?” he asked.
“Only River Ripple,” Gray Wing replied.
Since the battle, the moorland cats had seen Clear Sky and his followers from time to time. They had shared a few polite words, and even prey, then gone their separate ways. It was a relief that the territory borders weren’t being jealously guarded, but Gray Wing couldn’t help feeling that things could be better. Stiff politeness was all very well, but it was a far cry from the close friendship they had felt for one another on their journey out of the mountains.
“It’s not long before the next meeting at the four trees,” Thunder went on. “Do you think the spirit-cats will appear again?”
“I’m not sure.” Gray Wing thought for a moment, then added, “But we all agreed to meet there at the next full moon, to see how we’re getting on, so we need to do that, spirit-cats or no spirit-cats. Unite or die: That’s what we said we’d do.”
CHAPTER 4
The icy glow of the full moon poured down upon the four oak trees. The leaves rustled in a gentle breeze, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the great rock.
Beneath the trees, the clearing was alive with cats. Gray Wing spotted Acorn Fur bounding eagerly forward to nuzzle Lightning Tail, who covered her ears with affectionate licks. Nearby Dappled Pelt and Quick Water touched noses, then settled down for a long chat. Gray Wing caught a snatch of conversation between Shattered Ice and Petal.
“. . . you and the other rabbit-chasers,” the yellow tabby she-cat meowed good-humoredly. “Why don’t you learn to stalk?”
“Why don’t you learn to run?” Shattered Ice retorted, giving her a friendly nudge.
Gray Wing watched with hope in his heart. “Most of these cats haven’t seen one another since last full moon, when we were fighting,” he murmured to Thunder and Tall Shadow, who were standing on either side of him. “And now look at them! Maybe the peace really will last.”
Tall Shadow blinked, looking on with mild surprise as Cloud Spots and Leaf touched noses and settled down side by side, their pelts brushing. “Perhaps the worst is behind us,” she agreed.
“And we can start making plans for the future,” Thunder put in.
Clear Sky padded over to join them. Relief flooded over Gray Wing to see his brother looking relaxed and friendly. For so long, all he cared about was protecting his territory. A few moons ago, he wouldn’t even share prey with me. But we all learned lessons when our friends died.
“It’s good to see you,” Clear Sky mewed, dipping his head to the moorland cats. His gaze traveled across the mingling groups, and he added, “Do you think the spirit-cats will be pleased with us?”
“I hope so,” Gray Wing replied. “We’ve done nothing wrong. And yet . . . somehow, things don’t seem quite complete.” He couldn’t explain the emptiness he felt any more clearly. Surely there’s more to uniting than just not battling one another?
Gradually the babble of talk died away and the cats gazed up expectantly at the dark sky. But all they could see were stars and the cold circle of the moon.
What do we do if the spirit-cats don’t come? Gray Wing wondered.
His belly cramped with tension as a confused murmur came from a little group of cats off to one side of the hollow. Please, not another attack!
Then the group of cats parted and River Ripple brushed between them and padded up to Gray Wing. His perfectly groomed pelt shone silver in the moonlight.
“Greetings,” Gray Wing purred, amusement bubbling up inside him. “I don’t have any prey to share, you know.”
River Ripple dipped his head, his eyes glinting with humor. “I wouldn’t miss this meeting,” he mewed. “I remember how scared you all were, the last time the spirit-cats appeared.”
“But it doesn’t look like they’re going to show up tonight,” Wind Runner murmured sadly.
“I think they will,” River Ripple responded confidently. “Just wait.”
As if his words were a signal, a mist began to rise from the ground, chilly with the promise of leaf-fall. It swirled around the waiting cats, rose to cover the four great oak trees, and finally blotted out the moon and the stars.
Gray Wing found himself standing in the midst of a silver-gray cloud, so thick he couldn’t even see the cats standing next to him. Nervous meows came from close by, and his own pelt was prickling as he tried to push down his fear.
Gradually the cloud began to fade until Gray Wing could make out the shapes of his denmates, standing within a fuzzy ring of light that encircled the whole clearing. Then as the last of the mist cleared away, he saw that the light came from the spirit-cats, sitting all around as if they were still alive.
Gray Wing had to blink as he looked at their brightness, but he recognized them instantly: the cats who had died since they left the mountains. Bright Stream, Shaded Moss, Moon Shadow . . . and Turtle Tail! He felt just as shaken as he had the first time they appeared.
The shining form of Rainswept Flower rose to her paws and took a step forward. As she did so, Gray Wing noticed that Clear Sky had turned his head aside in shame, as if he couldn’t bear to look at the cat whose life he had taken before the battle had even begun.
“You have done well to observe peace since the last full moon,” Rainswept Flower meowed. “And yet the claw still blights the forest.”
Gray Wing and the other living cats exchanged confused glances.
“How can that be?” Tall Shadow asked. “We haven’t fought since . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if she could hardly bear to finish her own sentence. “Since the battle here.”
“Unless cats have been fighting in secret?” Wind Runner snapped, gazing around with suspicion in her eyes.
“No, that’s ridiculous!” Gray Wing protested. “We would know!”
Turtle Tail padded forward to stand beside Rainswept Flower. “You will realize what it means, in time,” she assured them.
Gray Wing’s heart filled with sorrow as he gazed at his dead mate. Her pelt shone with starlight; she was even more beautiful than he remembered. It hurt him more than any claw to hold her gaze, and his voice shook as he asked, “Can’t you just explain? Won’t that save time and bloodshed?”
Turtle Tail blinked sadly. “Cats can fight and fight and fight,” she mewed. “But sometimes even the sharpest claw cannot make a wound.”
Gray Wing let out a frustrated growl. “What does that mean?”
He turned his head as he spotted movement to one side, and saw River Ripple padding closer to the two starry she-cats with a whisk of his tail.
“If something is meant to happen, it will,” he pointed out calmly. “And no cat’s will is strong enough to stop it from happening.”
A chorused purr of approval rose from the spirit-cats. “River Ripple is clever,” Shaded Moss meowed with an approving blink of his deep green eyes. “You should listen to him.”
“Yes, I agree with what he said,” Thunder added eagerly, a glow of understanding in his eyes. “I felt that after the battle—like everything that had happened up until then was leading us to that moment, to that fight.”
Gray Wing felt his chest tighten at his young kin’s words. He turned in an anxious circle, his gaze raking the assembly of the spirit-cats as he tried to read something in their impassive expressions. “But why did it have to happen?” he asked. “Why was it unchangeable? I remember how I made the decision to leave the mountains, to settle in the hollow, to raise Thunder as my own. I made those choices.”
Turtle Tail gazed at him sympathetically. “Did you?” she asked gently. “Or did you follow an errant brother out of the mountains?”
Gray Wing’s chest felt like it had been filled with ice. It was a feeling of helplessness. She’s right—it wasn’t my decision to leave the mountains, he realized. If Jagged Peak hadn’t decided to run away and follow the cats who left, Quiet Rain would never have insisted that I follow him to make sure he came to no harm. Everything that happened after that wouldn’t have happened if Quiet Rain hadn’t pleaded with me. . . .
“Gray Wing, you mustn’t worry,” Turtle Tail meowed. “I know you don’t like feeling powerless, but you were brought to this point for a reason.”
Gray Wing turned his head away; gazing at the beautiful tortoiseshell she-cat was just too painful. “You were taken from me,” he choked out. “What could have been the reason for that?”
He began to pace to and fro in agitation, until Tall Shadow stepped forward and intercepted him.
“Calm down,” she ordered. “We’re being told what to do.”
Gray Wing took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand still again. “I want to be rid of these awful feelings,” he hissed. “I thought the spirit-cats would help.”
Before he had finished speaking, Storm bounded forward and faced him. “You and the other cats are getting all the help you need,” she told him, her whiskers twitching impatiently. “All the help that we can give.”
“That’s right.” Moon Shadow padded up to the side of his sister, Tall Shadow. “But there’s still more work to be done. Only the Blazing Star can blunt the claw.”
Frustrated by the constant hints and riddles, Gray Wing felt another angry yowl burning in his chest, but before he could utter a sound Bright Stream spoke, echoing Moon Shadow’s words.
“Yes, the Blazing Star. To survive, you must grow and spread like the Blazing Star.”
To survive? Gray Wing thought, bewildered.
“Aren’t we surviving already?” Thunder called out.
“Is the peace going to be broken so soon?” Wind Runner demanded.
Desperate yowling rose up from the other living cats, as they hurled more questions at the spirit-cats. But there was no reply. Instead another mist rose from the ground and drifted around the oak trees, blotting out the starry forms. When it faded, they were gone.
Gray Wing stepped forward to where Turtle Tail had been standing, but she had left no mark or scent of her presence. The rest of the spirit-cats had left no trace, either. If it weren’t for the tightness of his chest and the burning ache of grief in his throat, he would have thought he was dre
aming again.
But I know I wasn’t. The spirit-cats were real—and so was their advice. To survive you must grow and spread like the Blazing Star.
At least, he thought, his instincts had been right. He had felt that their troubles were not over, and the vague words of the starry cats seemed to confirm that more lay ahead.
He remembered the dream that kept coming to him ever since the battle, when Stoneteller had summoned him to her den and told him that he had to be strong.
Maybe this is what she meant. Our survival is going to come under threat, and we need to . . . to grow and spread like the Blazing Star. “Whatever that means,” Gray Wing muttered aloud.
As he stood deep in thought the rest of the cats crept forward to gather around him, their voices hushed now.
“What could the Blazing Star be?” Dappled Pelt wondered.
“And how can we grow and spread like it?” Petal added, glancing around as if she expected one of her denmates to come up with the answer.
Clear Sky shouldered his way to the front of the crowd to stand beside Gray Wing. “Maybe it’s a battle tactic,” he suggested.
“That doesn’t make sense!” Tall Shadow argued, narrowing her eyes at Clear Sky. “There are no cats to fight anymore.”
Wind Runner blinked, looking unusually hesitant. “What else could they have meant when they said that a ‘claw still blights the forest’?”
“Maybe the claw isn’t a real claw, but another riddle?”
Gray Wing froze as a new voice joined the conversation, strong and confident. He whipped around to see a strange she-cat who he was sure hadn’t been there just a moment before. She gazed boldly into his eyes. Her fur was thick and golden, its tabby markings rippling over her body, except for her chest and paws, which were pure white.
“Where did you come from?” he asked. “Are you part of Clear Sky’s group?”
The she-cat didn’t reply, and Clear Sky wasn’t taking any notice of her. “I wish the spirit-cats had been more help,” he mewed with a lash of his tail; clearly he felt just as frustrated as Gray Wing.