“Then why do it?” Gray Wing growled.
“He’s worried by all his responsibility,” Storm explained. “He really does think he’s acting for the best.”
Gray Wing shook his head sadly. “That still doesn’t make it right. And you know that.”
Storm didn’t reply, but she looked worried as she dipped her head to him and continued along the track.
His heart surging with grief, Gray Wing returned to the hollow. Tall Shadow was waiting for him. “What did Clear Sky have to say for himself?” she asked.
Gray Wing gave an angry shrug. “Nothing new. Jagged Peak can’t hunt anymore, so he has to go ‘for the good of the group.’ I can’t believe it was Clear Sky saying those things!”
“Neither can I,” Tall Shadow agreed, her tail-tip flicking to and fro. “You should always put your own family and friends first—every cat knows that! It’s far more important than the good of the larger group.”
“Clear Sky doesn’t see it that way,” Gray Wing muttered.
He padded across the hollow to look in on Jagged Peak, and found him awake again and talking to Cloud Spots.
“I’m pretty sure we can improve your movement,” the black-and-white tom was meowing. “If your injured leg won’t bear your weight, you have to strengthen the other three.”
“How can I do that?” Jagged Peak asked doubtfully.
“I’ll figure out exercises for you,” Cloud Spots promised. “Even here in your nest you could bend and stretch your legs to make the muscles strong.”
Jagged Peak tried, pushing with his forelegs and his uninjured hind leg, then went limp again, puffing out his breath in a sigh. “It feels weird,” he complained.
“You just have to get used to it,” Cloud Spots pointed out. “Don’t forget you’ve been lying in your nest in Clear Sky’s camp for more than a moon. No wonder your legs are weak.”
“Cloud Spots is right,” Gray Wing agreed. And Clear Sky must have destroyed Jagged Peak’s confidence, throwing him out like that and calling him useless. “I’ll help you, and you’ll feel better soon.”
“Dappled Pelt and I will work on some more ideas,” Cloud Spots meowed. “You wait, you’ll be hunting prey again soon.”
Jagged Peak blinked sorrowfully. “I don’t think I’ll ever catch prey again.”
As the days grew colder and the last of the leaves fell from the trees, prey became scarcer. Rabbits were staying in the warmth of their burrows, only venturing out to feed quickly in the early morning and at twilight, so that the cats had to range further in search of something to eat.
Gray Wing had ventured into the forest and picked up the scent of a squirrel. Stealthily he crept through the undergrowth, trying not to set his paws down on crunchy dead leaves. Slipping silently around a bramble thicket, he spotted the squirrel nibbling a nut in the middle of a clearing.
I can catch that, he thought, pressing himself to the ground as he prowled forward. It’s well away from the nearest tree.
Each paw step brought him closer to his quarry. Gray Wing was readying himself for a pounce when he heard an outraged yowl and something heavy landed on him from above, knocking the breath out of him. The squirrel leaped up and fled for a nearby ash tree, scurrying up the trunk and disappearing into a hole.
Gray Wing squirmed out from under the weight and scrambled to his paws. Fox was facing him, his neck fur bristling and his tail bushed out to twice its size.
“Prey-stealer!” he snarled.
“The prey isn’t yours!” Gray Wing retorted, lashing his tail. “It belongs to the cat who catches it.”
“This is Clear Sky’s territory.” Fox took a threatening pace forward. “So the prey belongs to him and his cats.”
Movement at the corner of his eye alerted Gray Wing; he turned his head to see his littermate emerge from a clump of bracken at the edge of the clearing, followed by Storm. Gray Wing took a pace toward his brother. “Clear Sky—” he began.
Fox leaped at him, bowling him over and cutting off his words. He pushed his face close to Gray Wing’s, his yellow eyes glazed with fury and his teeth a paw-length from Gray Wing’s throat. Forced to defend himself, Gray Wing thrust at him with his hind paws. But Fox was a big, muscular cat, and Gray Wing couldn’t free himself. He felt Fox’s claws dig into his head and slash across his forehead. Blood trickled into his eyes, half blinding him.
Pure panic throbbed through Gray Wing. This was no light skirmish; Fox really meant to hurt him. What is Clear Sky doing? Does he want Fox to tear me apart?
Summoning all his strength, Gray Wing lashed out with his forepaws. Unable to see more than a blur of brown pelt, he couldn’t aim his strikes; he just knew that he had to get this cat off him.
Gathering all his strength, Gray Wing struck hard with one forepaw. There was a choking cry from Fox. Something warm gushed over Gray Wing’s paws. The weight that was pinning him down suddenly vanished. Gray Wing staggered to his paws and swiped blood out of his eyes to see Fox lying on his side among the debris of the forest floor. Blood was pouring from his throat over the dead leaves; Gray Wing’s pelt was sticky with it and it clogged his claws where he had dealt the blow. Fox gave one last powerful kick with his hind legs, and was still.
Clear Sky bounded forward to stand over the brown tom’s body, then turned a look of horror and accusation on Gray Wing. “You killed him!”
Gray Wing felt as if his whole body had turned to stone. “I didn’t mean . . .” he stammered.
Clear Sky glared at him, his narrowed blue eyes like chips of ice. “That’s it,” he snarled. “We’re finished. You killed Fox, when he was only doing his job.”
“But he—” Gray Wing began.
“I said, we’re finished,” Clear Sky interrupted, his voice cold. “I have no brother. Get out of here.”
“You can’t mean that!” Gray Wing protested. “After all we’ve been through together?”
But there was no regret in Clear Sky’s cold eyes. He said nothing, only sliding out his claws. Gray Wing realized that unless he left now, he would end up fighting his brother.
Gray Wing met Clear Sky’s cold gaze, trying to accept that it was the last time. Killing Fox was an accident, but Clear Sky will never believe that. What can I do but go and never come back?
But before Gray Wing could turn away, Storm stepped forward. Her belly was swollen and her movements slow; Gray Wing could see that she was near to kitting. She gave Fox’s body a regretful glance, then padded past him to confront Clear Sky.
“I’ve had enough,” she mewed. “I’m going back to live in the Twolegplace. There’ll be better shelter there for my kits when they’re born.”
Clear Sky’s eyes widened in shock. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need me to look after you.”
“That’s just what I don’t need,” Storm retorted. “You treat me like a helpless kit, and I’m sick of it. And I can’t bear the way you treat cats when they step over your so-called boundaries. You don’t have the right to tell cats where they can and can’t hunt. Fox would be alive now if it wasn’t for you throwing your weight around.”
For a moment Clear Sky was utterly dumbfounded.
In the silence, Storm turned to Gray Wing. “I’m sorry,” she meowed. “I should have understood all this when I saw how Clear Sky treated Jagged Peak.”
Dipping her head to Gray Wing, she gave Clear Sky a long, sorrowful look, then turned and padded off through the bracken.
Gray Wing swung around urgently to face Clear Sky. “Go after her!” he pleaded. “Bring her back and help her raise your kits. She needs you!”
Clear Sky didn’t move, though there was sadness in his eyes as he watched Storm leave. “It’s no use,” he mewed. “I must put my community of cats first. If Storm can’t accept my decisions, then we can’t be together.”
“But don’t you love her?” Gray Wing protested.
“Of course I do. But she made her choice, and my future lies here.”
The anger i
n Clear Sky’s voice and expression had faded, replaced by an icy determination. Gray Wing realized that nothing was going to make him change his mind.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Gray Wing meowed. “And I’m sorry about Fox. I didn’t mean to . . . but he attacked me first.”
“He was doing his duty.” Clear Sky turned to go, then glanced back. “How is Jagged Peak?”
Gray Wing felt a tiny spark of hope. “He is doing fine,” he replied. “Cloud Spots has worked out some exercises to strengthen his good legs. Jagged Peak complains all the time, but he does them.” Feeling slightly daring, he added, “Why don’t you come and visit him?”
For a heartbeat Clear Sky hesitated. Then he shook his head. “What’s past is past,” he mewed. “I can’t look back. I have responsibilities now, cats to protect, and that means I have to let Storm and Jagged Peak go.”
Gray Wing was disturbed by the intensity in Clear Sky’s blue eyes as he spoke. He sighed, accepting that Clear Sky had set his paws on this path, and nothing would make him turn back. “If you change your mind, you’re always welcome,” he told Clear Sky.
Though I wonder if that’s true, he added silently to himself. Would Tall Shadow welcome him into our camp? Would Jagged Peak?
Dipping his head to Clear Sky, he turned and headed back toward the moor.
The cold season clamped its claws onto the moor, freezing the streams and pools and turning the grass to thorns of ice. Hawk Swoop was huge with kits, and Gray Wing spent a morning helping Jackdaw’s Cry dig out a new, bigger den in the tunnels so that she would be sheltered from the cold winds when she gave birth.
“This is wonderful!” she sighed as she flopped down in the nest of moss and bracken the toms had prepared for her. “Now I can’t wait for the kits to be here.”
Gray Wing left her with Jackdaw’s Cry and went out into the open, feeling a cold breeze ruffle his fur. Seeing Hawk Swoop so close to kitting reminded him of Storm. She must have had her kits by now, he thought. It’s been a moon since she went back to the Twolegplace. I hope she’s okay. As soon as he had formed the words, he knew what he had to do.
He had to go and look for Storm.
The race across the moor warmed Gray Wing and left his heart pounding. When he reached the forest he chose a path that took him around Clear Sky’s camp in a wide circle. I’ve got to avoid trouble today. I’ve more important things to do than arguing with Clear Sky and his cats.
Gray Wing’s paws slowed as he reached the outskirts of the Twolegplace, but he made himself carry on. As he moved cautiously along the hard stone paths, he looked for landmarks that would take him to the den where Turtle Tail and Bumble lived.
They might know where Storm is staying now. And it will be good to see Turtle Tail again.
At first Gray Wing made good progress. He remembered a big den with a strong reek of monsters and rows of thick, weirdly colored tree trunks standing outside, and an open space with a stretch of grass and bushes and Twoleg kits running here and there and yowling.
But as Gray Wing turned the corner beside the open space, he heard a sudden flurry of barking. Whipping around, he saw a small black dog hurtling toward him.
Fear slammed into Gray Wing. He raced down the path with the dog hard on his paws. At the next corner, he knew he should cross the Thunderpath, but monsters were growling past in both directions, and if he stopped to wait for them the dog would catch him. Gray Wing rounded the corner and pelted on.
Moments later he knew that he was lost. Twoleg fences and dens passed him in a blur as he fled from the dog. Though he didn’t dare to pause and look back, he could hear its barking close behind him, and smell its rank scent.
Then Gray Wing darted around another corner and halted in dismay. The end of the path was closed off by a huge Twoleg den. There was no way out; it was as though he was trapped in a tunnel, with the dog at its mouth. With nothing else to do, he turned, bracing himself to fight.
The dog was bounding down the path toward him, its jaws gaping. But before it reached him, Gray Wing heard a voice above his head.
“Gray Wing! Up here!”
Gray Wing’s eyes widened in shock as he looked up and saw Turtle Tail, balancing on a ledge beneath a hole in the side of the Twoleg den. He bunched his muscles, and as the dog bore down on him he leaped. Turtle Tail leaned over, grabbing his scruff to help him scramble onto the ledge beside her.
“Thanks!” Gray Wing gasped.
The dog stood just underneath, yapping in annoyance.
“Shove off, flea-pelt,” Turtle Tail meowed, then added to Gray Wing, “This way.”
Jumping from the ledge to the top of a wall, Turtle Tail led the way past several Twoleg dens until the wall came to an end and she had to leap down onto a stretch of smooth grass.
“It’s such a surprise to see you!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining as Gray Wing jumped down beside her. “It’s so great that you came to visit me and Bumble.”
Gray Wing gave his shoulder an embarrassed lick. “Actually, I’m looking for Storm,” he admitted.
Though Turtle Tail didn’t move, the light died from her eyes. “Oh,” she mewed flatly.
“I know she came back to the Twolegplace,” Gray Wing continued, aware that somehow he was saying the wrong thing, but needing to discover anything Turtle Tail could tell him. “Have you seen her? Do you know where she’s living now?”
Turtle Tail seemed reluctant to answer, scuffling the grass with her paws. “I’m not sure—”
“Of course we know!” A new voice joined in, and Gray Wing looked up to see Bumble sitting on the fence at the opposite side of the stretch of grass. The plump tortoiseshell plopped down and padded over to join them. “Don’t you remember, Turtle Tail? Storm went to live in that old monster den.”
“Oh . . . yes,” Turtle Tail muttered.
Gray Wing was pretty sure she had known all the time. “Thanks, Bumble,” he meowed. “Can you show me the way?”
Bumble hesitated for a moment. “I won’t go in with you. That place gives me the creeps.”
Gray Wing glanced at Turtle Tail, wondering if she would come too. But she simply mewed, “I’ll see you later,” and streaked across the grass to the fence, leaping over it and vanishing.
Sad and confused, Gray Wing followed Bumble back along the wall, then down beside a Thunderpath with monsters passing by so close together that he almost despaired of getting across. The noise beat at his ears and he felt the stink soaking into his fur.
Finally a gap opened up; Bumble yowled, “Now!” and they darted across side by side. Another monster roared by as they reached the other side; the wind of its passing ruffled their fur.
“That only missed us by a paw-length!” Gray Wing exclaimed.
Bumble led him past Twoleg dens with huge holes in their sides, covered by shiny transparent stuff that showed glaring lights and bright colors within. Crowds of Twolegs were walking to and fro; Bumble and Gray Wing had to slip along close to the wall to avoid their clumping paws.
“I don’t know how you can stand living here!” Gray Wing exclaimed.
Bumble glanced back at him. “Well, I don’t know how you can stand living out in the open, getting cold and wet the whole time. We both get used to it, I guess.”
Eventually Bumble led Gray Wing around another corner. A vast red stone den stood in front of them. Empty holes gaped in its side, and a huge entrance yawned like an open mouth.
Bumble flicked her tail. “There you go. I’ll wait for you and show you the way back.”
Gray Wing’s eyes widened in shock. “Storm lives in there?”
Bumble nodded. “There aren’t many places to stay around here, if you don’t live with a Twoleg.”
Horrified, forcing back panic, Gray Wing padded up to the entrance and went inside. The only light came from the holes in the walls. A vast stretch of stone lay in front of him, broken at intervals by stone trees that held up the roof. A foul reek washed over him from Twoleg de
bris scattered here and there, and beneath it he picked up the stale scent of monsters.
“Storm! Storm!” he yowled.
There was no reply. Gray Wing padded forward, glancing from side to side; there was nowhere here where Storm could be hiding.
A few tail-lengths away, a stone slope led upward. Gray Wing bounded to the top, then emerged more cautiously onto the next level. He saw the same thing: dark desolation, more rubbish, more stone trees, and no sign of Storm. A damp, chilly draft ruffled his fur, and he could hear the distant drip of water.
Up and up Gray Wing climbed, until he guessed he was almost at the top of the den. Still he couldn’t find Storm, and she didn’t reply when he called out to her. Was Bumble wrong? Maybe Storm doesn’t live here.
Hesitantly approaching one of the gaps in the wall, Gray Wing saw how far he had climbed. He almost felt as if he was back in the mountains, looking out from a high peak. The Twolegplace was spread out below him, monsters creeping along like shiny beetles. Beyond the Twolegplace was the mass of the forest, mostly gray-brown now that the leaves had fallen, with patches of dark green here and there where pines grew. Beyond the forest Gray Wing could just make out the swelling line of the moor, and he longed for the clean air and the vast stretches of grass where he could run and run.
A faint paw step behind him made Gray Wing spin around. “Storm!” he exclaimed.
The silver tabby she-cat stood a couple of tail-lengths away from him. Gray Wing’s heart swelled as he looked at her. She had clearly given birth; she was thin, her sides sunken and her fur filthy and matted. But her green eyes were still as brilliant and beautiful as ever.
“Storm,” Gray Wing repeated, taking a pace toward her. “You’ve had your kits—are they okay?”
Storm nodded. “Three of them . . . and yes, they’re fine.”
“Where are they?” Gray Wing asked, glancing around. “May I see them?”
The silver-gray tabby hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “Better not.”