Alder looked up from her meal, her splotchy gray-and-white pelt pricking where tiny snowflakes had settled along her spine. As she licked her lips, her gaze flashed toward Pink Eyes’s twitching tail.
Clear Sky saw mischief light up her eyes. She lunged and grabbed it, rolling onto her back. With a purr, she began pummeling it playfully with her hind legs.
“Hey!” Pink Eyes turned on her angrily. “Chase your own tail!”
“Why?” Alder froze, her paws in the air, and blinked at him innocently. “I’m not a dog!”
Pink Eyes glared at her. “And my tail isn’t prey.”
Birch padded to his sister’s side, his ginger pelt bright in the weak morning light. “I just wish prey was so easy to catch,” he said lightly.
The old tom snorted and marched away. He circled in a sheltered spot between the roots of an oak, then sat down and stared pointedly at Birch and Alder.
The brambles at the far end of the camp rattled. Nettle padded through the gap at one side. His thick gray pelt was damp. Acorn Fur followed him, a battered starling hanging from her jaws. Leaf padded after them, carrying a scrawny squirrel.
“I’ve never seen prey so scarce.” Nettle padded past his campmates and stopped beside Clear Sky. “I don’t know how we’ll make it to newleaf.”
Anxiety wormed in Clear Sky’s belly. Alder and Birch were staring hungrily at Acorn Fur’s starling. Quick Water’s mouse clearly hadn’t filled their bellies. We must survive! Clear Sky glanced through the trees. Was there more prey on the moor? Suddenly the boundaries he’d fought so hard to establish seemed to trap him. We need to share what we have, not guard it. Fluttering Bird must have known that.
“I’m going to Gray Wing’s camp,” he told Nettle.
Nettle’s ear twitched. “Why?”
Clear Sky shifted his paws. Nettle had fought beside him to keep the boundaries they’d made.
What would he say when he heard Clear Sky had suddenly decided that the cats should share their land and live as one group? He would understand once he knew that it was what the spirit cats wanted. But there wasn’t time to explain now. “I want to see Jagged Peak’s kits.” This was true. He hadn’t visited his brother’s litter yet.
“The weather’s closing in.” Nettle glanced at the thick yellow clouds crowding the treetops.
“There’ll be heavy snow before the day’s out, and if the wind picks up—”
Clear Sky interrupted. “I come from the mountains, remember? I’m used to getting snow in my whiskers.”
Nettle shrugged. “It’s your pelt.” He glanced across the clearing as Blossom slid out from beneath the holly.
“Do I smell prey?” she asked brightly. Her gaze swiveled toward Acorn Fur.
Acorn Fur dropped her starling. “There’s not much, but we can share.”
Leaf laid his squirrel on the ground. “It’ll do for now.” His mew was cheerful, but Clear Sky could see worry darkening his gaze. The sooner he persuaded the cats they’d be safer working together, the better. He headed for the gap in the brambles. “Make sure Pink Eyes gets some food,” he called over his shoulder. “His hungry belly is making him grouchy.” He shot a teasing look at the white cat.
Pink Eyes stared stiffly ahead, as though deaf. Clear Sky knew his sharp hearing hadn’t missed his jibe. Affection surged beneath his pelt. Proud old fleabag!
Blossom leaped onto a root beside Pink Eyes. “Do you want to share the starling or the squirrel?”
“I guess a bite of squirrel might be nice,” the tom huffed grudgingly.
Purring, Clear Sky slipped through the bramble tunnel.
Outside camp, the wind was brisker. The branches above him swished in the breeze. He opened his mouth and tasted snow. It carried the stone tang of the mountains. Nettle had been right. A heavy snowfall was on its way. He hurried between the trees. The sooner he reached the moor cats’ hollow, the better.
He followed the ridge until it dipped, then he leaped a fallen tree and climbed the slope beyond.
Bare brambles snaked over the ground, and he had to watch where he put each paw. The ferns had withered long ago, but in their musty stumps Clear Sky could smell a hint of the forest’s greenleaf lushness. Stiff bracken crowded the top of the slope. Clear Sky pushed through it, narrowing his eyes against the light as he neared the edge of the forest. He broke from the trees, ducking instinctively as he hit open country.
The icy wind streamed through his whiskers, and he flattened his ears. He glanced one way, then the other, tasting the air for danger. Dog scent clung to the grass, but it was stale, and he crossed the swath of withered ferns edging the woods and began to climb through the rough grass.
He paused as he neared a stunted thorn tree standing alone on the barren moorside. Beneath it, a mound of soil marked the grave where they had buried One Eye, the bloodthirsty rogue. The cats from moor, forest, and river had joined together to defeat him. Snow flecked the soil, and thrushes sang in the branches above.
He was a true ray of light.
Bitterness rose in Clear Sky’s throat as he remembered Star Flower’s words at the burial. How could she have been so deluded? One Eye might have been her father, but even she must have been shocked by his cruelty.
How could she have betrayed Thunder for him? Clear Sky snorted. He still couldn’t believe that the treacherous she-cat had deceived his son.
The wind blew harder. Heather swayed ahead of him, and he hurried for its shelter, ducking among the brown bushes until he found a rabbit trail between the stems. He followed it, relieved to be out of the wind, zigzagging this way and that as he made his way up the winding path.
The heather gave way to a smooth grassy slope. In the open once more, Clear Sky spied the dip in the hillside where the moor cats’ camp lay. He quickened his pace. Snowflakes streamed around him, falling thicker now.
Movement caught his eyes. A small flash of fur against the grass ahead made him freeze.
Prey.
A small rabbit was hopping toward the heather. Clear Sky dropped into a crouch and pricked his ears. Excitement surged through him as warm rabbit scent filled his nose. His tail twitched. He waggled his hindquarters, preparing to pounce.
Suddenly, the rabbit stopped and looked around, ears high.
Clear Sky froze.
The rabbit blinked, then bolted for the heather.
Now! Clear Sky surged forward. His paws rang on the frozen earth.
The rabbit fled. Fear-scent trailed in its wake. Clear Sky was closing in. He pushed harder against the frosty grass, fixing his gaze on the space in front of it.
Then he leaped. Stretching his forepaws, he landed squarely on his prey. It struggled beneath him.
He was surprised at its strength. Quickly, he dug in his claws and sank his teeth into its neck. The spine snapped cleanly and the rabbit fell limp.
Clear Sky’s mouth watered as blood bathed his tongue. He sat up and licked his lips. Should he leave his catch to take back to his own cats? He glanced toward the hollow. The moor cats might have greater need. And it would make a generous offering to Jagged Peak and Holly, in honor of their first litter.
He grabbed the rabbit’s scruff in his jaws and carried it up the slope.