“One of my friends can catch fish,” Gray Wing remarked.
Storm’s eyes widened. “Really? Amazing!”
Silence fell again. Gray Wing felt slightly awkward; there were so many things he wanted to say to Storm, but somehow he couldn’t find the words.
“I wish I could invite you to the hollow again,” he meowed at last. “But Tall Shadow is being a bit edgy about strangers just now. We can meet somewhere else, can’t we?”
“Sure,” Storm responded, though she didn’t make any suggestions.
Gray Wing leaned over to brush muzzles with her, but she turned her head away and rose to her paws. “Well, I’ll see you soon,” she mewed cheerfully, and bounded off toward the trees.
Looking after her, Gray Wing felt hot with embarrassment. Somehow I said the wrong thing . . . I don’t understand her at all.
Gray Wing collected his moss and headed back to the hollow. When he reached it and dropped his bundle beside the new nests, where Hawk Swoop and Cloud Spots were working busily, he spotted Turtle Tail, coming back empty-pawed from the direction of the Twolegplace. The scent of Twolegs was all over her.
“You’ve been visiting Bumble again,” he asserted. Still off balance from the odd encounter with Storm, he couldn’t summon up much patience for Turtle Tail. “Do you really want to be with her more than with us?”
Turtle Tail’s ears flicked up and she lashed her tail. “Well, you don’t seem to have time for me anymore,” she snapped. “Perhaps if I had silver fur you’d feel differently.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” But inside, Gray Wing knew that his friend was speaking the truth. He did want to be with Storm, more than any other cat. “Don’t let your fur get tangled,” he added more gently. “Storm’s such a terrific cat, and I hope that soon she’ll come here to live with us.”
Turtle Tail gave him a blank stare. “Great,” she mewed in a flat voice. “I’m totally happy for you both.” She turned and stalked off, her tail in the air.
Gray Wing gazed after her, totally bewildered. Shattered Ice, who was standing close by, let out an exaggerated sigh. “Gray Wing, you have the sense of a rabbit sometimes,” he muttered.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Gray Wing told him.
Shattered Ice just rolled his eyes.
Gray Wing shook his head in confusion, and went to help Cloud Spots and Hawk Swoop with the new nests. They were finished by nightfall, and Gray Wing had his best sleep for a long time, waking vigorous and refreshed. As he stood beside the nest shaking scraps of moss from his pelt, Turtle Tail padded up to him.
“Gray Wing, will you come with me?” she asked. “Just the two of us?”
“Sure.” Gray Wing decided not to say anything about her odd behavior the day before. “Do you want to hunt?”
Turtle Tail shook her head. “I want to talk, but not here.”
She led the way over the moor to where the waterfall thundered down into the gorge. Crouching beside it, she didn’t speak, just looked down at the rushing river as it surged between the rocks.
Gray Wing sat beside her, beginning to feel impatient. “Well?” he asked.
“We had such a long, hard journey to get here,” Turtle Tail began softly, “and we wondered if we’d ever reach the end. Now we have . . . but our destinations seem to be very different.”
“True,” Gray Wing meowed. “Clear Sky and the others—”
“I’m not talking about Clear Sky,” Turtle Tail interrupted. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’m going to live with Bumble.”
Gray Wing sprang to his paws, dismay filling him from ears to tail-tip. “No!” he exclaimed. “You can’t be a kittypet! You’re wild.”
Turtle Tail flicked her tail. “Then I’ll be a wild kittypet. I don’t think there’s a place for me here anymore, Gray Wing. I’ll be fine.” She rose and touched her nose to his ear. “You make sure to go for what you want. Promise?”
Feeling utterly baffled, Gray Wing nodded. “I promise.”
Still not understanding Turtle Tail’s decision, Gray Wing padded by her side until they reached the edge of the Twolegplace. When they could see the huge red dens looming up through the trees, Turtle Tail halted and turned to him.
“Will you let the others know where I’ve gone?” she asked. “I’m too embarrassed to make a big scene.”
“Of course I will,” Gray Wing replied.
“And I’ll visit!” Turtle Tail sounded as though she had to force herself to sound cheerful. “Don’t worry!”
She brushed her tail down Gray Wing’s side, then spun around and raced toward the Twoleg dens. Gray Wing watched her out of sight. He felt empty, as if something precious had gone out of his life.
Things are changing all the time, he thought as he trudged away from the Twolegplace. Every cat needs to choose their own destiny—and mine is with Storm, the way Turtle Tail’s is in the Twolegplace. Determination swelled inside him. I’ll ask Storm to come and live in the hollow. Tall Shadow will understand if Storm’s my mate.
For a while he padded alongside the river, but when he came to the huge rocks he turned to follow the stream that flowed into the main current. Excitement tingled through his paws as he imagined what it would be like to have Storm beside him, hunting, exploring, resting together in the shelter of their nest. When the time was right, they would even have kits together.
A flash of silver in the undergrowth alerted him and he halted as Storm came into view, a beautiful sheen of sunlight on her silver tabby pelt.
“Gray Wing!” she called, quickening her pace. “I was looking for you.”
Delight like warm sunshine spread through Gray Wing. “I was looking for you, too,” he told her. “I have something I want to say.”
Storm’s green eyes were troubled. “There’s something I have to tell you too,” she announced. She hesitated, then went on, “I’m going to live with Clear Sky.”
Shock ripped through Gray Wing, as cruel as a fox’s claws. “Why would you do that?”
Storm’s whiskers twitched. “I’ve seen a lot of him since that first time,” she explained. “We sort of . . .”
Gray Wing suddenly understood. “Oh, right,” he meowed. “Well, that’s great.”
Storm drew closer, her sweet scent washing over him. “I’m so sorry, Gray Wing,” she murmured. “I wish things were different, but . . .” Taking a pace back, she added, “We’ll still see each other. The forest isn’t that big!”
She turned and padded away, her tail waving gracefully. Gray Wing dug his claws into the ground and clamped his jaws shut so as not to utter a word. Storm had made her choice, and it wasn’t him. Gray Wing had never felt so alone in his life.
Maybe I owe my brother this, he thought as he tried to make sense of what was happening. It was because of me that Bright Stream died, and now I have a second chance to make Clear Sky happy.
Gray Wing loped across the moor toward the trees. Cold claws of wind penetrated his fur and the grass under his paws was stiff with frost. The cold season was coming again.
Ahead of him the green mass of the forest was blotched with brown and yellow and russet. As Gray Wing drew closer the wind whirled dead leaves into his face. Under the outlying branches he spotted Rainswept Flower, leaping and bounding to and fro, her paws outstretched as she tried to catch the leaves before they reached the ground.
Gray Wing halted to watch her. “Having fun?” he asked after a few moments.
Rainswept Flower spun around and stood blinking in embarrassment, her forepaws scuffling the ground. “Well . . . er . . . it’s good exercise,” she mewed.
Gray Wing let out a sympathetic purr. “The forest is changing so much. All these colors . . . and the leaves falling. It was never like this in the mountains.”
“We didn’t have trees like these,” Rainswept Flower agreed.
She leaped into a drift of leaves in a hollow among the roots of a tree. Scrambling up with bits of leaf sticking to her pelt, she let out a yo
wl of delight. “I love the crunching sound they make!”
Gray Wing’s paws itched to try, though he knew he needed to keep hunting. Just then, Jackdaw’s Cry appeared through the trees, his tail twitching and his eyes sparking with anger.
“What’s wrong?” Gray Wing asked, padding up to him.
“I just tried to visit Falling Feather,” the black tom growled. “But some cat I’ve never set eyes on before turned me away. He said Clear Sky didn’t want any cat in that part of the forest.”
“That’s flea-brained!” Rainswept Flower exclaimed. “Didn’t you tell him Falling Feather is your sister?”
“Of course I did,” Jackdaw’s Cry replied. “It didn’t do any good. He just showed me his claws . . . and he was a lot bigger than me.”
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Gray Wing meowed, remembering how Fox had halted him on the way to his brother’s new home. “Clear Sky would never stop any of us from visiting.”
Jackdaw’s Cry let out a grunt of annoyance. “Then he should make sure his cats know that.”
Gray Wing thought for a moment. “I’ll go and see what’s happening down there,” he decided. “I haven’t been to Clear Sky’s part of the forest for a long time.” And I haven’t seen Storm in over two moons.
He plunged into the trees until he met the stream, then followed it down toward the hollow where his brother lived. As he veered along the track that led to Clear Sky’s home, he picked up a number of mingled cat scents, some of which were new to him.
Clear Sky must be gathering more rogues to live with him.
He was drawing close to the clearing when two cats stepped out of the undergrowth and blocked his way. One was Fox, the other a vaguely familiar white tom; Gray Wing realized he was one of the rogues who had attacked Storm. The yellow she-cat, Petal, was sitting on an old stump a couple of tail-lengths away.
“What are you doing here?” the white tom demanded roughly.
Gray Wing bit back an angry reply. “I’ve come to visit Clear Sky.”
“He’s Clear Sky’s brother,” Fox put in. “But that doesn’t give him the right to hang around here anytime he feels like it.”
“Well, that’s a good excuse,” the white tom sneered. “I think you’ve come to steal our prey,” he added to Gray Wing.
“How is it ‘your’ prey?” Gray Wing’s neck fur began to bristle up as anger started to build inside him like a gathering storm cloud. “It’s not yours just because it’s near where you live. Prey is for every cat.”
“Well, Clear Sky doesn’t see it that way,” Fox snarled, sliding out his claws. “I think you’d better shove off, before we make you.”
Gray Wing hesitated, wondering what to do. I can’t fight both of them!
“Now,” the white tom growled, taking a pace forward so that he stood nose to nose with Gray Wing.
“What’s going on?” The clear meow came from behind Gray Wing; he felt it like the touch of cool water on a hot day. He turned to see Storm. “Hello,” she continued, with a friendly nod. “It’s good to see you again.”
Gray Wing dipped his head, hardly knowing what to say to her.
Before he could find words, the white tom turned to Storm. “This rogue was stealing our prey,” he explained.
“Really?” Storm mewed cuttingly. “I don’t see him carrying any prey, do you? I don’t smell any prey-scent on him. Could it be that you’re just a pair of crow-food-eating flea-brains?”
“We’re only doing our job,” Fox protested.
Storm rolled her eyes. “This is Clear Sky’s brother, Gray Wing. You’ve met him before, Fox, and you, Petal,” she added to the she-cat, who was trying to look as if she wasn’t involved with any of this. “He can visit Clear Sky any time he likes. Come on, Gray Wing.”
With a contemptuous flick of her tail, Storm pushed past the two toms and led the way down the track toward Clear Sky’s clearing.
“Why are those cats so hostile?” Gray Wing asked, his confusion pushing aside the awkwardness he felt meeting Storm again.
Storm glanced at him over her shoulder. “Clear Sky thinks it’s important to build a strong community, and he believes part of that is keeping other cats away from the prey that we hunt.”
“I see,” Gray Wing murmured, though he wasn’t sure that was true. Isn’t there enough prey for every cat? “How do you like it here in the forest?” he asked.
“It’s a safe place where cats can look out for each other,” said Storm, with another flashing glance back at him. “Clear Sky and I will be happy to have our kits grow up here.”
Gray Wing felt that the words would choke him, but he forced them out. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”
As Gray Wing and Storm pushed their way through the barrier of ferns that surrounded Clear Sky’s clearing, Clear Sky rushed over to them. Ignoring Gray Wing, he laid his tail across Storm’s shoulders.
“Why did you leave the camp?” he demanded. “You should be resting! What about our kits?”
I guess losing Bright Stream has made Clear Sky extra protective, Gray Wing thought.
Storm didn’t seem to appreciate Clear Sky’s concern. “I’m not going to break apart because I go for a walk,” she retorted.
“It’s still a risk you don’t need to take,” Clear Sky asserted. “Now go to your nest and take a nap.”
Storm’s eyes blazed with fury, but she didn’t protest, just stalked off and disappeared under an elder bush.
Gray Wing felt awkward that he’d witnessed their argument, but his embarrassment faded a moment later as Jagged Peak came bouncing up to him. “Gray Wing! It’s so good to see you! I’ve got so much to tell you.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” Gray Wing responded. Jagged Peak was almost fully grown now, his eyes bright and his pelt shining with health. “Are you—”
“I’m quite busy just now,” Clear Sky interrupted. “What do you want, Gray Wing? And by the way, Jagged Peak, you’re supposed to be hunting. Off you go.”
Gray Wing blinked in surprise to hear Clear Sky giving orders, but Jagged Peak didn’t seem to mind. Ducking his head to Gray Wing, he scampered off happily.
“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Gray Wing asked, flicking his tail toward the pool at the center of the camp. No cats were there, and he wanted to be sure he could tackle Clear Sky without any of the others butting in.
Clear Sky twitched his ears impatiently, then nodded. “Sure, help yourself.”
Gray Wing padded to the water’s edge and lapped a couple of mouthfuls he didn’t really want. He took a moment to collect himself, then he turned back to his brother.
“Jackdaw’s Cry told me that he wasn’t allowed to come and see Falling Feather,” he meowed, shaking water droplets from his whiskers. “I wanted to know what that’s all about.”
Clear Sky shrugged. “I know Fox and Frost can be a bit too keen on guarding the boundaries,” he admitted, “but it’s the only way to keep cats safe.”
“What?” Gray Wing looked at his brother in confusion. “Boundaries?”
“I’m trying to protect our new home,” Clear Sky explained, sounding a bit defensive.
“I can see that.” Gray Wing chose his words carefully. “But it worries me that you’re creating divisions between us—I mean between the cats who came from the mountains.”
“That’s not true!” Clear Sky insisted. “You’re all welcome to visit at any time.”
“Then maybe you should tell Fox and Frost that—” Gray Wing began.
A terrified screech interrupted him, and he spun around to see Falling Feather and Moon Shadow racing across the clearing.
“What happened?” Clear Sky demanded.
“It’s Jagged Peak!” Falling Feather panted. “We were hunting a squirrel, and he fell from the tree.”
“He can’t get up,” Moon Shadow added.
“Show me,” Clear Sky snapped.
Gray Wing’s belly lurched with anxiety as he foll
owed his brother and the other cats out of the clearing. Not Jagged Peak, he thought, anguished, remembering the young cat’s energy and courage. He can’t be dead!
A few tail-lengths into the forest the cats halted at the foot of a tall beech tree. Jagged Peak lay in a clump of crushed fern; relief rushed through Gray Wing as he heard his little brother groan. He’s alive!
But one of Jagged Peak’s hind legs lay at an odd angle. Blood was trickling from a gash and clotting in his fur.
“What can we do?” Falling Feather asked worriedly.
“I’ll get Dappled Pelt or Cloud Spots,” Gray Wing meowed at once. “They’ll know how to help him.” He set off at once, only halting for a heartbeat to yowl back at Clear Sky, “Tell Fox and Frost to let us through!”
Gray Wing raced along the edge of the trees and back across the moor, forcing out every last scrap of speed. Wind blew through his fur and he felt the rough moorland grass scrape his belly.
When he reached the hollow, Cloud Spots was out hunting, but Dappled Pelt was there, stretched out in a patch of weak sunshine and talking quietly with Shattered Ice. She leaped to her paws at once when Gray Wing told her what had happened.
“Of course I’ll come,” she mewed. They set off.
Clear Sky and his cats hadn’t dared to move Jagged Peak from where he lay among the ferns. Falling Feather was crouching beside him, licking him gently and murmuring encouragement. She rose and stepped back when she saw Dappled Pelt. “Can you do anything?” she asked.
“I’m sure I can,” Dappled Pelt replied soothingly. “Jagged Peak, I’m going to take a look at your leg, and then decide what’s best.”
“Okay,” the little cat rasped, his voice taut with pain. “I’m glad you’re here, Dappled Pelt.”
The slender tortoiseshell bent over Jagged Peak’s leg, sniffing all down its length. “Do you have any marigold?” she asked Clear Sky.
“We can get some,” Clear Sky replied. He flicked his ears toward Moon Shadow. “You know where it grows?”