Path of Stars, Page 3

  As Thunder shook his head in disbelief, Clover and Thistle pushed their way forward.

  “Hi, Acorn Fur!” Clover blinked at the she-cat who’d once been her campmate. “Do you remember me?”

  Thistle nudged his sister aside. “I bet she doesn’t,” he sniffed. “We’re nearly grown up.”

  Clear Sky growled. “This is no discussion for kits.” He flicked his tail toward them and glared at Thunder. “Shouldn’t they be doing chores, or something useful?”

  Thunder felt a prickle of irritation with Clear Sky. Even now, when he needed their help, he couldn’t stop bossing other cats around. “This is my camp, Clear Sky,” he meowed firmly. “I decide who does what.”

  The bracken rustled at the back of the camp. “What’s happening?” Milkweed asked as she hurried across the clearing, her eyes sparking with worry when she saw Clear Sky, Acorn Fur, Sparrow Fur, and Alder.

  Clover stared at her mother. “Clear Sky said we should be doing chores.”

  “He thinks kits aren’t allowed to talk,” Thistle added indignantly.

  Milkweed bristled, shooting Clear Sky an angry look as she guided Clover and Thistle away.

  Paw steps sounded beyond the gorse, and Cloud Spots hurried into camp, Leaf at his tail.

  Tension prickled in the air like a coming storm. Forcing his ruffled fur flat, Thunder padded to the center of the clearing and faced Clear Sky. “I want to help you,” he began, “but prey is scarce already. We can’t give what we catch to rogues.”

  Clear Sky stepped forward, tail twitching angrily. “You have to! Slash will kill Star Flower if we don’t do as he says.”

  Lightning Tail growled. “If we agree to their demands, these rogues will think we’re weak, and they’ll keep pushing us around!”

  Leaf nodded. “He’s right. Rogues like that are worse than foxes. Too lazy to hunt for themselves, but happy to bully other cats into doing it for them.”

  Milkweed moved closer to her kits, wrapping her tail around them. “Perhaps we should give them a little of our prey, just to keep them quiet.”

  Pink Eyes glanced sympathetically at the queen. “I know you’re frightened for your kits, but the rogues are just trying their luck. If we give in now, they’ll keep pushing until they drive us away. We’ve worked hard to make this land our own.”

  “Exactly!” Lightning Tail snapped.

  Thunder kneaded the ground anxiously. He glanced at Lightning Tail. His friend’s eyes shone with rage. Leaf circled the visitors, his black-and-white pelt spiking along his spine. Cloud Spots watched through narrowed eyes.

  Clear Sky’s gaze fixed desperately on Thunder. “You have to help me.”

  Why? Bitterness suddenly rose in Thunder’s throat. You never helped me! Why hadn’t Clear Sky ever shown as much concern for his mother? If he had, Storm and his littermates might still be alive.

  He pushed the thought away. The past was over. Clear Sky needed his help. No matter how bad a father he’d been, he was still a cat who deserved to be heard.

  And yet Thunder knew that he must put his campmates first. He met Clear Sky’s gaze. “I can’t promise prey to these rogues. We need it as much as they do.”

  Clear Sky leaned forward, whiskers trembling. “You don’t have to give them prey. Just meet Slash and promise so they return Star Flower.”

  Lightning Tail growled. “Meeting these rogues is hunting for trouble.”

  Leaf lashed his tail. “We should stay out of it.”

  “It’s not our problem,” Cloud Spots agreed.

  Clear Sky kept his gaze on Thunder. “Help me, please!” His mew was hoarse with despair.

  Thunder shook his head, guilt jabbing in his chest. “I can’t,” he murmured. “I must think of my campmates. I can’t sacrifice their well-being for yours.”

  Clear Sky’s tail bristled. “What kind of son are you?”

  Thunder’s heart sank as anger hardened his father’s gaze. He’d seen it countless times before. Wearily, he held his ground as Clear Sky went on.

  “How long are you going to resent me for taking Star Flower as my mate?” Clear Sky snarled. “Must you punish her as well? If my kits die, I’ll never forgive you!”

  Thunder swallowed back fear. “I’m punishing no one,” he meowed steadily. “Star Flower chose you, and I respect her decision. I’m sorry she’s in trouble, and I’d help if I could, but I can’t let my campmates starve to save her. You must solve this problem yourself.”

  Clear Sky stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

  Acorn Fur leaned toward her leader. “Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s go.”

  “Perhaps Tall Shadow will help,” Alder mewed encouragingly.

  “River Ripple will know what to do.” Sparrow Fur shot Thunder a sharp look. “The river’s always full of fish. He’ll be happy to share some of his prey.”

  Clear Sky turned away. “You’re right,” he muttered. “The others will help. They have to.” He hurried through the gorse tunnel, his campmates following.

  As Thunder heard them scramble up the ravine, he realized he was trembling. Should he have agreed to help? He wasn’t convinced the other leaders would really support Clear Sky. And if they didn’t, what would happen to Star Flower?

  He shivered as a damp wind spiraled into the hollow. Star Flower had softened his father. He shuddered to think how Clear Sky might react to her death. Would a refusal now lead them into another Great Battle?

  CHAPTER 3

  Gray Wing scanned the moorside, a damp wind tugging at his whiskers. His belly growled with hunger as he tasted the air. But there was no scent of prey, only the musty smell of dying heather. Below him, Gorse Fur stalked across the slope, grass streaming around his paws. Where the moor began to dip toward the forest, Wind Runner sniffed at the edge of a swath of heather.

  As she stretched her muzzle forward, Spotted Fur burst through the heather. “The prey-scents are stale even here.” Gray Wing heard the young tom’s mew on the wind.

  Spotted Fur was a new member of the group—a golden brown tom whose mother had hunted with Slate in her rogue days. Spotted Fur had left his mother and littermates when they’d moved on to new territory. He’d watched the moorland cats hunting and racing through the heather and wanted to join them. Wind Runner hadn’t been keen to accept a rogue as a campmate, but Slate had vouched for him, swearing that his mother was a kindhearted cat and a good hunter. And Spotted Fur had quickly proven the gray she-cat right. He’d caught as much prey as Wind Runner, and the group leader had soon forgotten that she’d ever had doubts about the young tom.

  But even Spotted Fur’s skill and enthusiasm couldn’t make prey appear where there was none.

  Gray Wing narrowed his eyes, unnerved by the empty slopes. Surely the thaw should have brought the prey from their burrows by now? Had the early snowfall killed this year’s young? He shifted his paws anxiously. If it had, leaf-bare would be long and hungry. He saw Gorse Fur freeze, and stiffened. Had the gray tom spotted prey? He followed Gorse Fur’s gaze, disappointed as he saw it fall on Moth Flight.

  Wind Runner and Gorse Fur’s scatterbrained kit had wandered away from the patrol again and was staring at the sky. The small white she-cat was five moons old, but she was as easily distracted as a kit half her age. Gray Wing frowned as he watched her scamper forward to sniff a withered stem poking from the grass before resuming her cloud gazing. Curiosity was natural in kits, but by now Moth Flight should have learned to concentrate on what she was doing.

  “Moth Flight!” Gorse Fur called to her. “You can watch clouds later! We’re supposed to be hunting!”

  Gray Wing flicked his tail irritably. If any prey had crept from its burrow, Gorse Fur’s yowling would send it running back for shelter.

  Moth Flight dipped her head apologetically and began to stalk the hillside.

  Behind Gray Wing, paw steps thumped against the ground. He caught a trace of Slate’s scent a moment before she stopped beside him, her thick, soft pelt brus
hing his. “Caught anything yet?” She was out of breath. Her pelt still carried the warm, heathery smell of their nest.

  Gray Wing glanced past her to the hollow in the hillside where the camp sheltered. She must have come from there. “There’s nothing to catch,” he told her gloomily.

  “Of course there is!” Slate lifted her chin and headed toward the others.

  Gray Wing’s dream flashed in his thoughts. It comforts me to see you happy. He remembered Turtle Tail’s words, fondness swelling in his chest. He was glad she didn’t begrudge the warmth Slate had brought to his life, relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend the cold leaf-bare nights alone. With Turtle Tail dead and her kits in different groups, he missed the closeness of family. He was lucky to be starting a new life with Slate.

  He watched her walk toward Wind Runner. Spotted Fur had slid from the heather and was gazing hopefully across the hillside. Slate stopped beside them, dipping her head to the leader.

  As the two she-cats exchanged greetings, movement caught Gray Wing’s eye. A rabbit had darted from behind a tussock and was speeding across the grass. It was too far away for Wind Runner and Spotted Fur to reach. But Gorse Fur had seen it and was charging up the slope. The rabbit streaked toward Moth Flight.

  Moth Flight, look! Gray Wing tensed. The young she-cat was still gazing into the sky. Silently he urged her to turn her head. The rabbit was veering away, heading upslope to the safety of the moortop burrows. Moth Flight didn’t move. Couldn’t she hear its paws? Frustration surged in Gray Wing’s belly. He broke into a run. If he cut off the rabbit’s escape, he could steer it straight into Moth Flight’s path. She’d have to see it then. He ran, the damp air searing his lungs. The breathlessness he’d suffered for moons had grown worse with the coming of leaf-bare. Pain gripped his chest, but he kept running, pelt fluffed as he tried desperately to make an imposing silhouette against the skyline, enough to scare the rabbit into changing course.

  It’s working! Hope surged through his fur. The rabbit’s eyes sparked with fear, and it skidded wildly away from him.

  Moth Flight stood, face to the sky, and stared dreamily upward.

  She must hear it’s close by now! The ground seemed to tremble with the thrumming of its paws. Even Wind Runner, Spotted Fur, and Slate had turned to watch. Gorse Fur was still chasing, too far behind, eyes fixed on the rabbit.

  “Moth Flight!” Gray Wing yowled as the rabbit streaked past her. She turned and blinked at him, oblivious as the rabbit shot past her and disappeared over a rise.

  Gray Wing pulled up, his paws slithering on the wet grass, and stopped a tail-length away from Moth Flight. He glared at her. “What in all the stars are you doing?” His lungs burned as he struggled for breath.

  She blinked at him anxiously. “Are you okay?” She hurried toward him and sniffed at his muzzle. “Does your breathing hurt again?”

  “I’m fine,” he gasped. Didn’t the foolish young cat even realize what she’d done?

  Her eyes widened. “You should sit down and rest.”

  As she spoke, Gorse Fur thundered past her, his eyes fixed on the rise where the rabbit had disappeared. He chased it, tail streaming behind.

  Moth Flight stared after her father, confusion showing in her round gaze.

  “Didn’t you see it?” Gray Wing puffed.

  “See what?”

  Anger flared in Gray Wing’s belly. “Taste the air! Its scent is everywhere.”

  Obediently, Moth Flight opened her mouth, her pink tongue showing between her teeth. “A rabbit!” she gasped, her eyes widening suddenly.

  Gray Wing could hardly believe his ears. “How did you miss it?”

  “I’m so sorry!” She jerked her head around, scanning the grassy moorside, but the rabbit had long disappeared over the rise, followed by Gorse Fur.

  Wind Runner charged toward them.

  Moth Flight shifted her paws self-consciously as her mother stopped and stared at her accusingly. “I was watching clouds,” she murmured. “One looked just like a rabbit.”

  Gray Wing glanced at the sky, where the clouds were piling so thickly now that he was amazed she could make out any shape at all. “If you’d been watching the moorside, you’d have seen a real rabbit,” he snapped.

  Wind Runner growled. “Moth Flight! How many times have I told you that when you’re hunting you have to concentrate?”

  Moth Flight bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t feed your campmates!” Wind Runner’s ears twitched.

  “I’ll try harder next time,” Moth Flight promised.

  “You said that last time!” Wind Runner hissed.

  Gray Wing felt a sudden wave of sympathy for Moth Flight as she gazed pitifully at her mother. Perhaps the young cat just wasn’t cut out to be a hunter. She might be more use in camp, clearing out bedding and building new dens. He flicked his tail toward the hollow. “Why don’t you see if Reed and Minnow need you to fetch more heather?” He had left the pair weaving a shelter against the camp wall, threading heather stems into the gorse to make a den. Dust Muzzle was helping them. Perhaps he should have brought Dust Muzzle on the patrol instead of Moth Flight. The young tom was a far more accomplished hunter than his sister.

  Moth Flight blinked at him eagerly. “Let me follow the rabbit’s trail. Please! I have a good nose. I’m sure I can find where it’s gone.”

  Wind Runner snorted. “It’ll be deep in a burrow by now. You’re probably mouse-brained enough to follow it in and get lost. Then we’ll have to send a search party to find you.”

  Moth Flight seemed to shrink inside her pelt.

  Gray Wing’s heart twisted. “Perhaps we can follow its trail together—”

  As he spoke, Gorse Fur appeared on the rise. The rabbit was clamped between the tom’s jaws.

  “You caught it!” Gray Wing purred.

  Gorse Fur slowed as he neared them, and laid the rabbit beside Wind Runner.

  Moth Flight’s gaze shone with guilt. “I’m sorry for being such a mouse-brain.”

  “No harm done,” Gorse Fur meowed breezily.

  Wind Runner lashed her tail. “What if you hadn’t been here to fix Moth Flight’s mistakes?” She glared at her mate.

  Gorse Fur met her stare calmly. “She’s still young.”

  “She’s old enough to stop a rabbit when it practically trips over her,” Wind Runner snapped.

  Moth Flight glanced anxiously from her mother to her father. “I promise, I won’t do it again.”

  Wind Runner snorted. “You will, so long as your father keeps making excuses for you.”

  “You’re too hard on her, Wind Runner,” Gorse Fur objected.

  “Somebody needs to be, or she’ll never learn to hunt.”

  Gray Wing turned away, leaving the family to settle their squabble in private, and headed back along the slope.

  Slate padded to meet him. “Is everything okay?” She glanced toward Wind Runner.

  Gray Wing kept walking. “Gorse Fur caught the rabbit.” He spoke slowly, trying to disguise his breathlessness.

  Slate fell in beside him. “Wind Runner doesn’t look too pleased.”

  “She thinks Moth Flight should have caught it.”

  “We all make mistakes.”

  “I shouldn’t have chased the rabbit right toward her,” Gray Wing murmured. “I should have known Moth Flight was unreliable.”

  Slate nudged his shoulder gently with her muzzle as they walked side by side. “Don’t blame yourself for a kit’s mistake.”

  He shot her a look, his worry over Moth Flight melting as he saw warmth in her gaze. “I guess she’ll grow out of her daydreaming eventually,” he conceded.

  “Of course she will.” Slate glanced toward the hollow. “Should we go back to camp?” There was anxiety in her mew.

  Gray Wing tensed. Had she heard him wheezing? “We should catch more prey first.”

  “The others can manage without us for a while,” Slate argued. “Besides, it’s a goo
d chance for Moth Flight to practice hunting.”

  Ahead, Spotted Fur was sniffing the roots of a gorse bush. He lifted his muzzle as they neared. “The prey-scent is so stale I can hardly smell anything.”

  “Look by the high burrows,” Gray Wing suggested. He pointed his nose toward Moth Flight, her white pelt moving over the grass like a tiny cloud as she trailed behind Wind Runner and Gorse Fur. “You can show Moth Flight how to spot fresh rabbit trails.”

  Spotted Fur’s gaze lit up. “Do you think she’d like that?”

  Slate purred. “I think she’ll appreciate your company.”

  Spotted Fur hared away, cutting across the slope to catch up to the young she-cat.

  Gray Wing realized that Slate had gently steered him onto the trail that led to the hollow entrance. Perhaps he should rest for a while and catch his breath. He could always go out again later. Dusk often lured fresh prey from its hiding places.

  As they crossed the smooth grass outside the camp entrance, familiar scents touched his nose. His pelt prickled with curiosity. Clear Sky and Tall Shadow had passed this way. What had brought them here? He quickened his step, hurrying into camp.

  His brother was pacing the clearing. Tall Shadow sat at the edge, her gaze dark. Reed and Minnow were working on their den beside the wall, their gazes flicking nervously toward the visitors as they wove heather into the rough frame jutting from the gorse. Dust Muzzle sat near them, his gray tabby pelt prickling as he stared at Clear Sky from beside a pile of heather sprigs.

  Clear Sky jerked his gaze expectantly toward Gray Wing. “Is Wind Runner with you? I must speak with her.” He slid past Gray Wing and peered through the gap in the gorse. “Reed told me you were hunting together.”

  “She’s on the moortop,” Gray Wing told him.

  Slate blinked at Clear Sky. “Should I fetch her?”

  “Fetch her?” Clear Sky echoed, his thoughts clearly distracted.

  Gray Wing noticed his brother’s unkempt pelt. The fur around his neck clumped in thick spikes. Something was wrong. He nodded to Slate. “Go and get Wind Runner.” She clearly recognized the urgency in his mew and dashed from the camp. Gray Wing searched Clear Sky’s gaze, alarmed to see fear sparking in its blue depths. Something was very wrong. “What’s happened?”