“But I want to guard,” he’d insisted.
“You should stay close to your kits,” Wind Runner had told him.
Reed had nodded. “A warm den is better for your breathing than cold night air.”
Gray Wing had glared angrily at the silver tom. But he hadn’t argued. He knew it was true. Even here, cozy in his nest beside Slate and their kits, he felt invisible jaws tighten around his chest, as though some creature were trying to squeeze the breath from him. It will pass, he told himself as fear crept beneath his pelt. He leaned forward and sniffed White Tail’s soft fur. The dark gray kit mewled in his sleep and rolled over. Silver Stripe stirred beside him, her tail sticking out.
Black Ear lifted his head and blinked sleepily at Gray Wing. “Is it time to wake up?”
Gray Wing lapped the black-and-white tom-kit’s cheek softly. “No. Go back to sleep.”
Black Ear rested his muzzle on his sister’s back and closed his eyes.
Slate’s gaze met Gray Wing. “Will they ever be safe?”
He pressed his cheek to hers. “Nothing bad will happen to our kits,” he promised softly. “Not as long as I live.”
Chapter 18
Clear Sky settled down on the crooked bough that overhung the camp. The frosty bark felt cold against his belly. An icy chill had gripped the forest overnight and hadn’t let go. Gazing down, he watched Tiny Branch, Dew Petal, and Flower Foot as they charged around the clearing. Each time they scampered past the yew, they peeked into the shadows, their eyes wide with gleeful terror.
Clear Sky’s whiskers twitched with amusement. They’d been playing this game since sunhigh.
Blossom was crouching deep beneath the yew.
As Dew Petal raced past, the tiny she-cat veered enticingly close to the bush. The yew trembled.
Blossom darted out, grabbed the kit, and bundled her inside.
Dew Petal squealed with fear and delight as Flower Foot and Tiny Branch raced to rescue her.
They dived beneath the branches, their fluffy tails sticking up.
“Let her go!”
Clear Sky heard Tiny Branch’s defiant mew.
“You can’t have her!” Flower Foot hissed.
Blossom’s ominous growl sounded from the shadows. “I’m going to eat her all up!”
“Nooooo!” Dew Petal half purred and half wailed.
The yew trembled again, and Tiny Branch backed out, pulling Dew Petal with him. Flower Foot scrambled clear, swiping at Blossom as the tortoiseshell stuck her nose from beneath the branches.
“I’ll get you next time!” Blossom pretended to threaten the kits as they ran clear and skidded to a halt at the far side of the clearing.
Clear Sky purred with pride as he saw them bunch together, shooting glances at the yew. He guessed they were planning their revenge.
Sparrow Fur and Thorn glanced at the kits from the edge of the clearing, where they were sorting through the prey pile. Since Slash had stopped stealing from the group, no cat had gone hungry. Prey was still scarce, but Clear Sky was pleased to see that his campmates were growing ever more skillful at hunting. Red had brought a pigeon back yesterday. He’d climbed a tree to reach it, and promised to show the others how to hide in the crook of a branch and wait for birds.
Clear Sky had asked Red about Slash, of course. Red had confessed that he was from Slash’s group, hanging his head with shame as he begged Clear Sky to believe that he’d only hidden the truth about being a rogue because he’d wanted to stay with Clear Sky’s group so much. Clear Sky wanted to trust him, and yet Red had misled him. And he couldn’t forget that Red had led dogs into Slash’s camp. That was a dumb mistake. And dangerous. What if the rogue brought dogs here?
At the edge of the camp, Quick Water pushed her paw through the ice covering a puddle and lapped from it. “You must be thirsty,” she called to the kits. “You’ve been running around all morning.”
Their eyes lit up, and they raced to the she-cat’s side and lapped eagerly from the puddle while
Quick Water gingerly picked up a hunk of ice between her teeth and carried it across the clearing. She padded past Birch and Alder, who were sharing tongues at the bottom of the short slope that led to Clear Sky’s den.
Birch shuddered as water dripped from the ice onto his tail. “Are you taking a drink to Star
Flower?”
Quick Water nodded and hopped up the bank.
Nettle and Red padded into camp, their paws flecked with frost. A mouse hung from Red’s jaws.
Nettle called to Clear Sky. “Gorse Fur is heading this way. We’ve just seen him crossing the border.”
Clear Sky pushed himself to his paws and leaped down from the branch. Landing lightly beside
Red, he glanced at the camp entrance.
Dew Petal, Tiny Branch, and Flower Foot hurried toward him.
“Can we go and meet him?” Tiny Branch asked excitedly.
Clear Sky flicked his tail. “You’re not old enough to leave camp.”
Dew Petal rolled her eyes. “You always say that!”
“We get older every day,” Flower Foot argued. “When will we be old enough?”
Nettle nudged the kit’s cheek with his muzzle. “When you can fight a fox.”
“Or a rogue,” Red added.
Tiny Branch squared up to Red. “Let me practice on you!” he begged. “You were a rogue once.”
He reared on his hind legs and threw a forepaw at Red’s muzzle. Red pretended to stagger and collapsed to the ground. Dew Petal leaped onto his flank, squeaking with delight. Flower Foot grabbed the tom’s tail. Wrapping her forepaws around it, she churned it with her hind legs. Tiny
Branch flung himself onto the tom, and Red rolled over, purring as the kits swarmed over him.
Clear Sky shifted his paws uneasily. Should I trust him?
He shivered as he watched his kits pummeling Red. They squeaked with delight as, purring, Red begged for mercy. “No! Please let me go!” The kits were still so small, the glossy russet tom could shake them off any time he liked. A dog could snap them in two with a single bite.
Nettle interrupted Clear Sky’s thoughts. “Should I escort Gorse Fur through the woods?”
“What?” Clear Sky blinked at the gray tom, only half hearing.
“I don’t need an escort.” Gorse Fur padded through the entrance. He dipped his head to Clear Sky. “I hope I am welcome.”
“Of course.” Clear Sky hurried to meet the moor cat, worry pricking in his paws as he saw the somber expression in the tom’s eyes. “Is something wrong?”
Gorse Fur glanced at the kits and padded to the edge of the clearing. He lowered his voice as Clear Sky followed. “One of our rogues has gone back to Slash,” he murmured.
Clear Sky leaned close, alarm flashing through his fur. “Which one?”
“Bee.”
So these rogues aren’t trustworthy? Fear curled icy claws in his belly. “The others are still loyal?”
“They say they are. Fern’s badly wounded. Bee attacked her before she ran away.” Gorse Fur sat down and curled his tail across his paws. “Wind Runner is worried that the other rogues might do the same. I’m visiting the camps to warn all the leaders.”
“Do you know why Bee went back to Slash?”
“She said we are mouse-hearts and she’d rather live with real cats like Slash.”
Clear Sky glanced at Red.
Gorse Fur followed his gaze. “Do you trust him?”
Clear Sky’s thoughts were whirling. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
“Does he help with camp duties?” Gorse Fur asked softly.