“Of course.” Violet padded toward a tabby she-cat and crouched beside her. The tabby was trembling, her eyes glittering with grief as Violet leaned close and lapped her cheek softly.
Gray Wing was heading toward the grave when he recognized a gray pelt beneath a dropping clump of marsh grass. “Pebble Heart!”
The young tom was tending to another cat. He turned as he heard his name. A wad of cobweb hung from his jaws. He blinked a welcome at Gray Wing, then turned back to the wounded tom.
“He’s treating injuries,” Fern explained. “He’s been busy since he arrived—cleaning cuts and bites and gathering cobweb to stop the bleeding.”
“They are in safe paws.” Gray Wing gave a purr. He wasn’t surprised that Pebble Heart had helped the rogues eagerly and unquestioningly. He headed for the gap in the wall and hopped out of the camp. “Stay with the others,” he called to Lightning Tail.
The black tom nodded. “I’ll guard the entrance.”
He followed a trail of crushed grass and churned mud until he saw Thunder’s orange pelt, bright against the darkening sky. In a gap between the tussocks, the tom was leaning over a hole, hauling earth out with his paws. Another tom worked beside him. As Gray Wing reached the grave, he saw the tortoiseshell she-cat walk up to the edge and drop to the bottom, sinking paw-deep into the mud.
She then scooped a pawful of mud up and dumped it on the rim.
Thunder pawed it away. The black tom next to him scraped peat from the side of the hole.
Gray Wing glanced sadly toward the two bodies lying nearby. Their bony frames showed through their bedraggled fur. Rain streamed down whiskers that would never twitch again.
Thunder looked up as Gray Wing reached him. “Thanks for coming.” He straightened, wiping his muddy paws on his belly fur.
“Is Slash really gone?” Gray Wing asked.
“For now,” Thunder told him. “But we need to bury these cats and get the others away. Who knows if he might come back?”
The rogue beside him sat up. “Or the dogs might return.”
Thunder nodded toward the black tom. “This is Raven,” he told Gray Wing. He glanced at the she-cat standing in the grave. “That’s Juniper.”
“Hi.” Raven dipped his head.
“Hello.” Juniper met Gray Wing’s gaze, then blinked at Thunder. “Do you think this is deep enough?”
“It needs to be a bit deeper if it’s to keep the bodies safe from foxes.” Thunder stood up. Mud caked his paws. “Will you two be okay finishing here while I talk to Gray Wing?”
“We’ll be fine.” Juniper scooped out another pawful of wet dirt.
Thunder signaled to Gray Wing with a flick of his tail, then wove his way between the tussocks.
Gray Wing followed until they were clear of the others.
“What are we going to do with them?” Thunder whispered.
“They clearly can’t stay here.” Gray Wing stared across the empty marsh. “The camp’s not safe anymore.”
“We could take them to Tall Shadow’s camp,” Thunder suggested. “It’s not too far.”
Gray Wing frowned. “It might be too near. Now that the dogs have their scent, they might track these cats to Tall Shadow’s camp if we take them there.”
“The river?” Thunder wondered.
“It’s a long trek for injured cats.”
Thunder glanced toward the wrecked camp. “Frog’s badly injured. I’m not even sure he can walk.
I don’t know how we’re going to get him over the Thunderpath.”
“We’ll deal with that when we come to it.” Gray Wing shifted his paws. The moor would be the safest place for the rogues. The hollow had thick walls and was easy to defend. And every moor cat knew how to divert dogs away from the camp by leading them through swaths of heather and gorse and hiding in rabbit burrows until the dogs were exhausted and confused. But how would he convince
Wind Runner to take the rogues in? Why would she welcome cats who had attacked her campmates and stolen their prey? Gray Wing frowned. He’d persuade her somehow. It would only be temporary: until the rogues recovered, or found new homes. “What about the moor?” he ventured.
“The hollow?” Thunder’s eyes brightened. “They’d be safe there. I’ve seen how moor cats deal with dogs.”
Gray Wing nodded. “Let’s take them there for now. Tomorrow we’ll decide where they can go next.”
The grass rustled behind them. Gray Wing jerked his muzzle around to see Violet standing at their tails.
She blinked at him hopefully. “Can we join your group?”
Gray Wing froze. Wind Runner would never agree to that!
Violet must have sensed his hesitation. “We don’t all have to join the same group. Perhaps a few could join yours, and some could live in the pines and some in the oak forest. There are cats by the river, too, aren’t there? Maybe some could go there.” Her gaze drifted to Thunder. “And perhaps I could join your group?”
Gray Wing’s ears twitched. Thunder’s eyes widened as Violet blinked at him hopefully. They seemed lost in each other’s eyes.
Then Thunder spoke. “I’d have to speak with my campmates.” His fur rippled self-consciously.
“But I’d like you to join our group.”
A burst of happiness spread over Violet’s features before she dipped her head shyly. “Thank you.”
“Thunder!” Juniper called from beyond the tussocks. “We’re finished.”
“I’m coming!” Thunder called back. He blinked at Gray Wing. “Is it decided? We take them back to the moor tonight. Then tomorrow we can see which groups will take the others.”
“Yes.” Gray Wing nodded. It seemed the only way. But would Wind Runner give the rogues shelter for the night? He pushed the worry away. The most important thing now was to get the rogues away from here.
“I’ll fetch the others.” Violet’s mew cut into his thoughts. “They’ll want to say good-bye to their campmates.” She hesitated before she padded away, her mew turning wistful. “Slash used to make us take bodies to the carrion place and leave them for the crows and rats.”
Gray Wing shuddered. Could rogues that had once treated their dead campmates as crow-food ever learn to live peacefully among moor and forest cats?
By the time the rogues had said good-bye to Beech and Stone and buried their bodies so that no fox could dig them up, night had swallowed the marsh. The rain had eased, but clouds still covered the moon. Lightning Tail paced in the darkness, as though impatient to leave. Gray Wing gathered the rogues in the remains of the camp. “Are you well enough to walk as far as the moor?”
He glanced around the expectant faces.
Willow looked toward Frog, who was still lying at the edge of the clearing.
Pebble Heart was crouching beside the injured tom. “Frog will need to be carried.”
Who was strong enough? Gray Wing scanned the rogues. Moss was hardly injured, and Raven looked fit. Juniper must be tired after the digging, but she met his gaze eagerly. If Lightning Tail helped, they should be able to carry the wounded rogue between them. “Moss, Raven, Juniper, and Lightning Tail. Will you carry Frog?”
“Of course.” Moss padded toward his injured campmate at once, Juniper and Raven hurrying after him. As Lightning Tail followed, Moss tucked his nose beneath Frog’s shoulder. The injured tom grunted as Raven grasped his scruff.
“Careful,” Pebble Heart cautioned. His eyes glittered with worry. “He’s injured his spine. Too much movement might make it worse.”
Raven tugged Frog onto Moss’s shoulders.
Frog screeched with pain.
Pebble Heart’s fur bushed. “Stop!”
Gently, Moss moved away and Raven lowered Frog to the ground.
Thunder blinked at Pebble Heart. “What can we do? We can’t leave him here.”