Cloudstar's Journey, Page 4

  Cloudstar had barely dozed off when Stoatfur woke him up, prodding him with one paw. “Sorry to disturb you, Cloudstar,” he mewed. “Buzzardtail asked me to lead a border patrol, but with three of the apprentices out of action, I need you to make up the numbers.”

  Cloudstar hauled himself stiffly out of his nest and stretched each leg in turn. “Okay,” he meowed. “Let’s go.”

  He let Stoatfur take the lead, and walked beside Quailheart and Rainleap as they headed into the dense trees that lay between the camp and the border with ThunderClan. The yellow monsters rumbled in the distance, and where the ground was bare of leaf mulch, Cloudstar could feel the earth trembling beneath his paws. Where are they taking the trees? And why? The cats were used to fir trees being harvested by Twolegs, but not the trees that shed their leaves in the coldest seasons.

  Stoatfur directed Rainleap to refresh the first border mark they came to, on a tree stump covered with ivy. At the next, a twisted hazel tree, Stoatfur nodded to Cloudstar, offering him the task. Cloudstar stepped forward, enjoying the role of a warrior rather than leader. He was about to rejoin the patrol when a hiss through the bracken stopped him.

  “Patrolling the borders again, Cloudstar?” The bracken rustled and a dark ginger tom stepped through. “Seedpelt told me she’d seen you here recently. Is SkyClan lacking in warriors?”

  Cloudstar forced his fur to stay flat. “There is no reason why a Clan leader shouldn’t patrol with his warriors,” he growled. “After all, isn’t that what you’re doing here, Redstar?”

  The ThunderClan leader flicked his tail as if he was bored of the subject and padded forward until he was almost muzzle to muzzle with Cloudstar. “What’s all this noise we hear coming from your territory?” he asked, leaning close to peer into Cloudstar’s eyes. “Is there trouble in SkyClan?” His yellow eyes gleamed hungrily.

  Behind him, Cloudstar heard Quailheart snarl. “No, no trouble at all,” Cloudstar replied. “Just some Twolegs playing with monsters beyond the far boundary. My Clanmates know better than to fret about every little thing a Twoleg does. Is the noise making your warriors nervous, Redstar?”

  The ThunderClan leader curled his lip, and Cloudstar felt a small stab of satisfaction that he had gotten under Redstar’s fur. “Nothing scares ThunderClan warriors!” Redstar growled.

  Cloudstar turned to leave. “If they have any sense, they should be more wary of SkyClan warriors!” he called over his shoulder. His Clanmates fell in behind him as he stalked away from the hazel tree, leaving Redstar glaring after them.

  Once out of sight of the ThunderClan cat, Cloudstar stepped off the path to let Stoatfur take the lead again. The orange-and-white tom looked anxious. “Don’t you think you should have told Redstar the truth?” he meowed. “That our border has been destroyed, and we have lost territory?”

  Cloudstar stared at him. “Have moths got into your brain? Why would I let ThunderClan know there is anything wrong?”

  Stoatfur scraped one paw over the ground. “Because if the Twolegs destroy much more of the forest, we might need ThunderClan’s help.”

  “ThunderClan warriors can’t chase off Twolegs and monsters!” Rainleap snapped. “I’d rather die than ask them for help!”

  Cloudstar twitched his ears. “That’s a little extreme, Rainleap. But you’re right: SkyClan will fight its own battles.”

  “What about the territory that used to belong to us?” Stoatfur persisted, nodding toward the dense strip of oak trees just beyond the SkyClan scent marks. “If we lose much more from the far side of our hunting grounds, we should ask ThunderClan to give it back.”

  Cloudstar bristled. “SkyClan can survive without it. I will never go groveling to Redstar to get us out of trouble, and we can’t go back on Duskstar’s decision to let them have that territory. It would be like challenging all our ancestors, as well as the warrior code.” He gazed at each of his warriors in turn, wincing at their troubled eyes and ruffled pelts. I have to stay strong for them. “SkyClan will survive, without the help of ThunderClan. We are strong, skillful, and more honorable than any of the five Clans of the forest. Trust me, warriors. The Twolegs will not destroy our home.”

  By the time they returned to the camp, the sun was high, blazing down through the trees. Cloudstar headed straight for the stream at the edge of the camp, just beyond the elders’ den, and took a long drink. His pelt felt itchy and dusty, and his legs ached, but he had insisted on double-checking all the border marks. He didn’t trust Redstar. Cloudstar was beginning to fear he had been too relaxed about letting ThunderClan warriors cross the border by a few paw steps, in the interest of keeping things peaceful with their closest neighbor. Now he wanted to maintain a much stricter border, with more frequent patrols and marks refreshed three times a day, not just twice.

  Padding back into the clearing, Cloudstar’s belly rumbled. He trotted over to the fresh-kill pile and stopped short with a yelp of dismay. There was only a tough-looking starling and the remains of a vole under the elderflower tree. “Haven’t the hunting patrols returned yet?” he called to Weaselwhisker, who was sunning himself on the tree stump in the center of the clearing.

  Weaselwhisker lifted his head and peered over the edge of the stump. “Yes, and gone out again,” he reported.

  “And this is all they caught?” Cloudstar exclaimed.

  Weaselwhisker nodded. “They said the woods where the trees have fallen are empty, and the rest of the territory is so noisy that prey is being frightened away from there, as well.”

  Cloudstar cursed under his breath. “I’ll go out myself,” he told Weaselwhisker. Perhaps one cat alone would have a better chance of stalking nervous prey. Ignoring the pangs in his belly, he turned away from the fresh-kill pile and headed back into the woods. The trees hummed with the noise of the yellow monsters. It drowned out the rustling of the leaves, the creaking of branches, and any sound of birds or squirrels that might offer good hunting. Cloudstar felt a worm of alarm squirm in his belly. There must be something we can eat! Suddenly feeling impatient at being trapped on the ground, he leaped up the trunk of the closest tree and hauled himself into the branches.

  He could still hear the monsters up here, but now the leaves whispered around his ears, and a soft breeze lifted his fur. Cloudstar pressed his ear to the bark and heard the tiniest scratching sound. Squirrel! Lifting his head, he waited for a moment, opening his jaws so that the scents of the forest flooded in. His prey was farther up the tree, on one of the thinnest branches. SkyClan warriors tended to avoid hunting at the tops of the trees because it was more dangerous, with the branches much less able to bear their weight, but hunger quelled Cloudstar’s nerves. He clawed his way upward, stretching his tail behind him to keep his balance. There was a desperate scrabble above him as the squirrel spotted Cloudstar launching himself up, but Cloudstar put on an extra burst of speed and slammed one of his front paws into the tiny fluffy creature before it had a chance to run.

  He studied his catch disappointedly. It was hardly old enough to be out of its nest, and wouldn’t feed an elder let alone a warrior. But it was a start. Peering down through the leaves, Cloudstar carefully dropped the squirrel between the branches, then scampered down the trunk to bury it beneath a heap of earth and twigs until he collected it later.

  He hunted until the sunbeams slanted low through the trees and the first star appeared in the hazy sky. He was exhausted, his pelt ruffled and filthy, and the stiffness along his spine had sharpened to a fierce burn. But all he had to add to his squirrel was a blackbird, plump enough but hardly a good meal for more than two cats. Unearthing the squirrel, Cloudstar dragged his fresh-kill back to the camp.

  Birdflight was waiting for him on the far side of the brambles. “Where have you been? Weaselwhisker said you went out hunting on your own!”

  Cloudstar nodded. “Let me put these on the fresh-kill pile, and let’s eat together.”

  “I’ve already eaten,” Birdflight meowed. “I’m sorry, I should have
saved some for you.” Cloudstar was about to protest when his gaze fell on the pile beneath the elderflower tree. There were a few scraps that might have been the vole he had seen earlier, but nothing else. He spun around to face Birdflight. “Has every cat eaten?”

  She flinched at his fierce tone. “I think so,” she mewed. “Petalfall shared hers with Hazelwing and the kits. She said she wasn’t hungry.”

  Cloudstar curled his lip. “She’s said that before.”

  Birdflight’s eyes widened. “You think she’s deliberately letting the other cats eat her share?”

  Cloudstar nodded. “But if there isn’t enough food to go around, we’ll all have to go hungry for a while. Just until the prey comes back. Buzzardtail!” He called to his deputy, who was sharing tongues with Fernpelt outside the warriors’ den. “From now on, we’ll eat once a day, at dusk. There isn’t enough prey for two meals a day.”

  Buzzardtail looked startled. “We’ll starve!”

  “No, we won’t,” Cloudstar snapped, fighting the panic rising inside his chest. “We survive on one meal during leaf-bare. Why should this be different?”

  “Because we need to eat more in the warm seasons in order to survive leaf-bare!” Buzzardtail pointed out. “We won’t have the strength to hunt if we’re hungry all the time.”

  “Then figure out a different way to hunt!” Cloudstar hissed. He whirled around and stalked to his den. They look to me for answers, but how am I supposed to conjure prey out of an empty forest?

  There were soft paw steps behind him, and Birdflight followed him into the den. “Cloudstar, I’m worried about you.”

  “Well, I’m worried about everyone,” Cloudstar muttered, circling in his nest to flatten the moss.

  “That’s your duty, as our leader,” Birdflight mewed. “But I just have to worry about you—and our kits, when they come. Cloudstar, they need their father! If you work yourself to death before they arrive, I’ll have to raise them alone! Please, take care of yourself for their sake, if nothing else.”

  Cloudstar reached out and rested his muzzle on Birdflight’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I will look after myself, I promise. And the rest of the Clan. Everything will be fine when the monsters leave and the prey comes back.”

  Birdflight squeezed in beside him. Cloudstar shuffled to the edge of the nest to make room for her swollen belly. “Do you really believe SkyClan will survive this?” Birdflight murmured as she settled against him.

  “Of course,” Cloudstar purred. “StarClan would not have made me leader if they did not know for certain that I would be able to save my Clan. Now sleep, my precious. Our kits need us both to be strong.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Cloudstar stood at the edge of the Great Rock, washed in silver moonlight, and gazed down at the cats below. Countless pairs of eyes gleamed up at him, ears pricked, the only sound the whispering of the leaves from the four giant oaks. How long have the five Clans gathered here? Cloudstar wondered. And how long will they continue? Until the Twolegs destroy these trees as well?

  There was a quiet cough from the foot of the rock, and Cloudstar saw Buzzardtail looking expectantly at him. Three sunrises had passed since Cloudstar and the apprentices were caught in the falling tree, and the Twolegs had encroached no farther onto SkyClan’s territory. Instead they had cleared the ruined trees away and started to place rows of large gray stones, sharp and square, in the empty space. There was still too much noise, and the prey had not yet returned—leaving SkyClan thin and hungry on reduced fresh-kill—but Cloudstar felt a stirring of hope that the worst was over.

  He had wanted to say nothing about the Twolegs at the Gathering, and let the other Clans believe that all was well in SkyClan. But Buzzardtail insisted that he had to acknowledge there was something going on. They knew that the noise of the yellow monsters had reached ThunderClan, and it was impossible that RiverClan hadn’t heard something too. Better to acknowledge what the Twolegs are doing, Buzzardtail had argued, than let rumors spread among the other Clans.

  Greenleaf held sway in the forest, weighting the trees with glossy green leaves and plumping the prey. The other Clans reported overflowing fresh-kill piles, healthy litters of kits, and new warriors who looked as strong and sharp as their seniors. Cloudstar pictured the scant pile of food beneath the elderflower bush, the scrawny elders, and the wails of Hazelwing’s kits when their bellies ached with hunger.

  Scraping his claws over the silver stone, he lifted his head. “Cats of all the Clans, I am proud to speak for the SkyClan cats. Hazelwing’s kits continue to grow, and are wearing us all out with their games!” There was a purr of amusement from below, mostly from she-cats and elders. “I look forward to presenting them to you as apprentices in three more moons. My warriors are hunting with great skill for their Clanmates, and like you we are grateful for the fresh-kill that greenleaf brings to the forest.” He paused and took a breath. Stay calm! Don’t let them see that you are worried one tiny whisker about what is happening.

  “I’m sure some of you have heard the rumblings of Twolegs and their monsters just beyond our border.” There were nods and murmurs from below the rock, and Cloudstar felt Redstar stiffen beside him. “Well, you know Twolegs, always trying to ruin something!” Cloudstar’s throat ached as he tried to keep his tone light. “They’ve taken a few trees at their edge of our territory, but we have plenty more. The Twolegs will get bored soon and take their monsters somewhere else.” He narrowed his eyes and tried to meet the gaze of as many warriors as possible from the other Clans. “We in SkyClan would hate for you to waste time on rumors and lies about what may be going on in our territory.” Cloudstar let an edge creep into his tone, but then he caught sight of Buzzardtail looking alarmed, and softened his voice a little. I don’t want to seem like I am trying to hide something. “And by the next Gathering, I hope to have even better news. Kits of my own, thanks to Birdflight!”

  There were mutters of approval; Cloudstar hoped he had distracted the cats from gossiping about Twoleg nonsense. He stepped back from the edge of the rock and sat down again. Redstar leaned over and murmured in his ear, “Glad to hear that SkyClan doesn’t mind sharing their territory with Twolegs.”

  Cloudstar shot a fierce glance at the ginger tom, and reminded himself with an effort that this was the night of the full moon, so hostility between Clans was forbidden. “Of course we aren’t sharing our territory with Twolegs,” he meowed, opening his eyes wide as if surprised that Redstar would have such a mouse-brained idea. “Our borders are strong, and our scent marks refreshed as usual.”

  “More often than usual, I’ve noticed,” Redstar commented, with the tiniest flick of his tail.

  Cloudstar was saved from replying by Swiftstar, the WindClan leader, standing up and stretching each leg in turn. “Ah, I’m getting too old to sit on this cold rock for long,” he grunted. “Shall we join the others?”

  Dawnstar of ShadowClan and Birchstar of RiverClan nodded, and jumped side by side down from the Great Rock. Birchstar looked plump and content beneath her glossy pelt, and even Dawnstar looked less lean than usual. Cloudstar made a deliberate effort to fluff up his fur to hide his jutting ribs. In spite of his promise to Birdflight, he had been eating less than any of his warriors. The prey will come back before our kits arrive, he told himself.

  Fawnstep was waiting for him at the foot of the rock. “Cloudstar, can we talk?” Her blue eyes looked anxious.

  Cloudstar followed her into the shadows behind the stone. “It’s the other medicine cats,” Fawnstep told him, her voice trembling. “They’ve all had dreams about us, about SkyClan being swallowed up by yellow monsters, trampled like dust beneath falling trees. Molepelt of ShadowClan is convinced we will all be dead before the next Gathering!”

  “Molepelt of ShadowClan should worry more about his own warriors and less about sticking his muzzle into other Clans’ business,” growled Cloudstar. “He’s no better than a gossiping elder! He can hardly take care of his own pelt, let alone an en
tire Clan.”

  “But the others listen to him,” Fawnstep persisted. “And they are all worried about SkyClan.”

  Cloudstar raised his head. “Do they live in our camp? Have they seen our hunting patrols working tirelessly to find enough food for us? Do they know that the trees have stopped falling? Or have you told them we are starving to death, crippled by Twolegs and their pathetic monsters?” His voice was harsher than he intended, and Fawnstep winced.

  “I have told them that we are fine and can take of ourselves,” she mewed sharply. “I would never tell them anything else.”

  Cloudstar felt a stab of guilt for doubting his medicine cat. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. Now, let’s join the others before we fuel more gossip from our neighbors.”

  It was a strain to stay cheerful and seem interested in what was going on in the other Clans, and Cloudstar was relieved when the cats began slipping away from the hollow in search of a brief rest before dawn. He led his Clanmates back along the river at a run, wrinkling his nose at the stench of ThunderClan scent marks at the edge of the shore. SkyClan was allowed to follow the edge of the water to reach Fourtrees, but Redstar seemed determined to keep them trapped on the pebbles by a wall of reeking scent.

  Quailheart met them just inside the brambles. His eyes were full of sorrow. “It’s Petalfall,” he meowed as soon as Cloudstar and Fawnstep emerged from the thorns. “She’s had another falling fit, and she’s so weak she can hardly open her eyes.”

  Fawnstep and Cloudstar ran to the medicine cat’s den. The old she-cat lay in a faint moonbeam that filtered through the branches above her. Her rose-cream pelt was stretched tight over her jutting hip bones, and her eyes were sunken into her skull. The scent of death clung to her fur and her breath rattled in her chest. She raised her head when Cloudstar and Fawnstep entered and opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly her whole body stiffened, her legs shot out, and her eyes rolled back. She started to tremble and foam bubbled at her lips.