Leaf huffed. “Do you think foxes would stop being foxes if we trusted them?”
“We’re not talking about foxes,” Clear Sky snapped. “We’re talking about cats.” And yet he couldn’t push from his mind the image of Red eyeing his kits as they played in the clearing. Could a rogue who’d concealed the truth ever be trusted?
River Ripple padded to the center of the clearing. “Clear Sky is right. If we want these rogues to live by our code, we must show them that our code makes life better. They must see that peace and sharing and honor are good for the group, and that what’s good for the group is good for the individual. We find trust in trusting, and learn kindness by being kind.”
Clear Sky steadied his breathing. Find trust in trusting. Red would be a good campmate, just like Blossom and Thorn and Nettle.
I only have to trust.
Thunder flicked his tail. “I know I can trust Violet. She’s happy and grateful to be part of my group. And I’m sure Ember will feel part of the group before long.”
Wind Runner frowned. “I hope you’re right.”
Pebble Heart lifted his tail. “No cat likes change, but change comes all the same. These cats may be a great gift to us.” He glanced at the sky as though hoping for a sign.
Clear Sky followed his gaze. It had been a long time since their ancestors had shared with them.
He wondered for a moment what Storm or Bright Stream thought of the rogues. Storm had visited him in a dream once and told him that she was glad he was with Star Flower. Her words had comforted him. Perhaps if she spoke to him now, she could tell him whether he could trust Red. But the stars glittered silently, and no ghostly figures flitted in the shadows of the clearing. “Let’s go home,” he suggested. The frost was hardening. He could feel it in his pelt.
“We’ve said all we need to say,” Gray Wing said, eyeing Wind Runner warily.
She fluffed out her fur. “I guess we might as well head for our nests. We’ll only freeze standing here.”
River Ripple licked his lips. “There’s a trout waiting for me back at camp.”
Dappled Pelt purred. “If the kits haven’t eaten it. They like fish more than mouse now.”
The cats began to head for the slopes. Clear Sky followed Blossom toward the edge of the clearing.
“Clear Sky?” Thunder called.
Clear Sky paused, puzzled, and looked over his shoulder.
Thunder was staring at him hopefully from the center while the others disappeared into the bracken.
“Go ahead without me.” Clear Sky nodded to Blossom. “Check on Star Flower and the kits and tell them I won’t be long.” Leaf nodded and ran off, and Clear Sky headed toward Thunder, curiosity pricking in his pelt. “What is it?”
Thunder’s eyes were dark. “I just wanted to warn you.”
Clear Sky stiffened.
“Red brought the pack of dogs into the rogues’ camp.” Thunder blinked at him.
Clear Sky’s heart quickened. Were Quick Water and Nettle right? “On purpose?”
“No. But it was a pretty dangerous mistake.” Thunder glanced anxiously toward the forest at the top of the slope. “Just keep an eye on him.”
Clear Sky shivered. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Thunder glanced away. “I’m not trying to stir up trouble.”
“Why would I think that?” Clear Sky blinked in surprise.
“We don’t always trust the same cats.” Thunder was avoiding his gaze.
Guilt jabbed Clear Sky’s belly. Thunder had once warned him not to trust Star Flower—though he’d had good reason. Star Flower had broken the young tom’s heart. Still, Clear Sky had lashed out at him. “We’ve had our differences,” he admitted. “But that’s been my fault. I should have been a better father to you.” He waited for Thunder to meet his gaze before going on. “My new kits have made me realize how much I failed you.”
“You didn’t fail me,” Thunder mumbled. “I guess I just wasn’t the son you wanted.”
“That’s not true!” Clear Sky’s mew thickened. He knew now with absolute clarity that Thunder had never been the problem. I was the one who was difficult. “I was just too thickheaded to realize how special you are. I’m proud of the cat you’ve become. I’m proud you’re my son, and I’m sorry I missed the chance to be a proper father to you.”
“Well, you can make up for that with your new family.” There was bitterness in Thunder’s mew.
“I love my new family,” Clear Sly admitted. “But they have helped me realize how much I love you. I’m just sorry I couldn’t show you that in the past.” He leaned closer to Thunder. “But I hope you will always come to me if you need help. I hope you will share your joy and worries with me, whatever they are. It’s too late for me to be the father you should have had. But I hope that one day I can become as important to you as Gray Wing.”
Wariness glimmered in Thunder’s gaze. For a moment, Clear Sky thought the young tom was going to tell him something meaningful. But Thunder just shrugged again.
“Thanks, Clear Sky,” he murmured, and turned away.
Clear Sky watched him head for the slope and duck into the bracken. He realized that Thunder wasn’t ready to confide in him. He might never be ready. Why should he be? Grief tugged at Clear Sky’s heart. He’d let his firstborn son down, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never make up for the precious moons he’d wasted. He headed toward his forest. He had failed with Thunder, but he was determined he would never let his new family down. They would always know that he loved them more than he loved his own life.
Chapter 16
Gray Wing dreamed.
Pine needles crunched beneath his paws. Smooth straight trunks loomed around him and disappeared into shadow on every side. The pungent scent of sap filled his nose. He glanced up.
Darkness hid the treetops. His chest tightened. What am I doing here? The shadows closed in, pressing closer. Where’s the moor? He tasted the air, anxiety sparking in his belly. I need to get home. Slate’s kits were due any day. He began to wheeze as darkness enveloped him. He blinked, straining to see, struggling to breathe. Where was Slate? Where were his campmates? Why was he here alone?
Suddenly, light pierced the darkness. Starry figures were moving through the trees at the edge of his vision. He spun around, struggling for breath as he tried to see them properly. Were the ghost cats here? Had they come to share with him? “Turtle Tail?” he called through the darkness toward a distant shape shimmering with starlight. The shape flitted out of sight. “Jackdaw’s Cry? Is that you?”
A sparkling tom flashed in the distance then disappeared. “Are you hiding?” Frustration itched beneath Gray Wing’s pelt. He heard murmuring mews and twisted each time he spotted a flash of starlight, always too late to see who it was. “What do you want?” His heart pounded as he gasped for breath. The murmuring faded, and the darkness eased. Light showed ahead, the soft rosy light of dawn.
“Gray Wing!” Slate’s agonized cry echoed through the trees. “Help me.”
“Where are you?” Gray Wing began to run, heading for the light. Wheezing, he zigzagged between the trees. “I’m coming, Slate!” If only he could get clear of this forest, he could find her. I just hope my breath lasts.
“Gray Wing!”
He jerked awake, pushing himself blearily onto his forepaws. Blinking, he saw his den walls, washed in the gray light of early morning. Relief washed over his pelt as his chest loosened and he drew in a deep breath.