“I know,” Milkweed answered. “But why don’t I get it started and you can help me when you’ve finished eating. I can gather fresh bracken, and you can scrape moss from the fallen tree and spread it in the sunshine to dry.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but crossed the clearing.
As she disappeared into the bracken, Lightning Tail’s pelt caught Thunder’s eye. The black tom was diving across the clearing, forepaws outstretched.
Thistle and Clover stared at the tom, wide-eyed, their mouths full.
“The thrush didn’t even see me,” Lightning Tail told them as he demonstrated his move. “I just swooped on it as silently as an owl.”
“Will you teach me how to climb trees?” Clover asked.
“We’re not squirrels!” Pink Eyes swallowed the last morsel of his mouse. Thunder felt a flicker of relief that the old cat had not lost his appetite.
Thistle sniffed. “That doesn’t mean we can’t climb.”
Pink Eyes gave his forepaws a quick lick and stood up. “Don’t blame me if you fall out and twist your tail.” He headed for the fallen tree and began to strip moss from the rotting bark.
Behind him, bracken rustled. Thunder heard roots tear as Milkweed hauled up fresh stems.
Thunder glanced at the pale blue sky. Moons of cold weather lay ahead. How would he keep his cats well fed if prey was already scarce? He hoped Owl Eyes, Cloud Spots, and Leaf would find better hunting than he and Lightning Tail had. If they don’t, I’ll go out again later. He was determined he would never let his cats go hungry.
Never? His pelt pricked. Was that a promise he could make? He suddenly pictured Quiet Rain lying in her shallow grave. Then his thoughts flashed to Lightning Tail’s leap from the tree. He’d thought for a moment that his friend had fallen. An accident could befall any of them at any time. What if I die? Could these cats manage without me? The thought struck him like cold water. Would the group stay together? He’d led them here. They looked to him to decide what was best. Without him, would Leaf hunt for anyone but Milkweed and her kits? Would Milkweed worry that Pink Eyes had a dry nest? Would Lightning Tail spend his time telling stories to Clover and Thistle? They were good-hearted cats. But without a leader, would they think of themselves as a group, or would they drift back to being rogues? What if they rejoined Clear Sky’s group?
They mustn’t! The thought chilled him. He got to his paws and began to pace. Clear Sky had mellowed these past moons, but Thunder knew what his father was capable of. Cats had died at his claws.
I won’t die! Thunder told himself. I can’t. These cats need me too much. As he tried to push worry away, stones clattered down the side of the ravine.
He looked up, straining to see over the gorse barrier. Was the hunting party back already?
Thistle and Clover jumped to their paws. They raced toward the camp entrance.
“It’s Owl Eyes!” Clover called, her nose twitching. “I can smell him!”
“You’re just guessing,” Thistle scoffed. “How can you smell him from here?”
“I can smell nearly as well as Pink Eyes!” She looked toward the old tom expectantly.
“Clover’s right,” Pink Eyes confirmed, his gaze fixed on the long strip of moss he was peeling from the fallen tree.
Paws thumped onto the ground beyond the barrier.
Thunder crossed the clearing, weaving in front of the kits. Whoever was approaching the camp was in a hurry. He pricked his ears as Owl Eyes burst through the gorse tunnel. Alarm sparked in the young tom’s gaze. “Clear Sky’s coming!” he puffed. “He has a patrol. Acorn Fur, Sparrow Fur, and Alder are with him.”
“Did you speak to them?” Thunder demanded.
“Cloud Spots and Leaf are talking to them now. Leaf sent me back to camp to warn you.”
Lightning Tail hurried to Thunder’s side. “What’s the problem? Is Clear Sky starting another fight?”
“Why would he?” Pink Eyes blinked at them from across the clearing. “There’s nothing to fight about.”
“Clear Sky can always find something to fight about,” Lightning Tail growled darkly. “Why else would he bring a patrol here?”
Thunder’s ears twitched. Clear Sky had shown no hostility the last time they had met. He’d been stricken with grief at Quiet Rain’s death. “He’s probably just bringing news,” he told Lightning Tail.
“He doesn’t need to bring three campmates to share news,” Lightning Tail argued.
Paws scrabbled down the ravine beyond the gorse.
Thunder lifted his chin. “Why don’t we just wait and see?” He shot Lightning Tail a warning look.
His friend could be hotheaded and was a bit wary of Clear Sky. “I don’t want unnecessary arguments.”
The gorse shivered, and Clear Sky hurried in. His gray fur was ruffled, and his eyes glittered with panic. Acorn Fur, Alder, and Sparrow Fur hurried in behind him, their gazes solemn.
Thunder blinked at his father. “Are you okay?” Anxiety sparked in his pelt.
“I need your help.” Clear Sky’s tail swished restlessly.
Thunder frowned. “Why?”
“Slash has taken Star Flower,” Clear Sky told him. “He’s holding her hostage.”
Slash. The name rang in Thunder’s mind like the call of a distant bird. He’d heard it before. But where? He stiffened. Fern. She was a young rogue she-cat that he’d met with Gray Wing. Gray Wing had been taking her to Tall Shadow’s camp to escape Slash! She’d confessed that Slash had been forcing her to spy on the cats in the pine forest. And she’d sounded scared.
Thunder suddenly became aware of Clear Sky’s gaze probing his.
“Star Flower’s in danger!” Clear Sky meowed urgently.
Thunder met his gaze. “We must save her.”
“I don’t know where she’s being held,” Clear Sky told him.
Acorn Fur chimed in. “Who knows how many rogues are guarding her?”
“Slash said there were more than we could imagine,” Sparrow Fur added.
Thunder stared at his father. Didn’t Clear Sky have a plan? “What do you want me to do?”
Thunder’s eyes narrowed as Clear Sky explained what Slash had demanded: to meet with all the group leaders to discuss a way to share their prey with the rogues.
As Thunder shook his head in disbelief, Clover and Thistle pushed their way forward.
“Hi, Acorn Fur!” Clover blinked at the she-cat who’d once been her campmate. “Do you remember me?”
Thistle nudged his sister aside. “I bet she doesn’t,” he sniffed. “We’re nearly grown up.”
Clear Sky growled. “This is no discussion for kits.” He flicked his tail toward them and glared at Thunder. “Shouldn’t they be doing chores, or something useful?”
Thunder felt a prickle of irritation with Clear Sky. Even now, when he needed their help, he couldn’t stop bossing other cats around. “This is my camp, Clear Sky,” he meowed firmly. “I decide who does what.”
The bracken rustled at the back of the camp. “What’s happening?” Milkweed asked as she hurried across the clearing, her eyes sparking with worry when she saw Clear Sky, Acorn Fur, Sparrow Fur, and Alder.
Clover stared at her mother. “Clear Sky said we should be doing chores.”
“He thinks kits aren’t allowed to talk,” Thistle added indignantly.
Milkweed bristled, shooting Clear Sky an angry look as she guided Clover and Thistle away.
Paw steps sounded beyond the gorse, and Cloud Spots hurried into camp, Leaf at his tail.
Tension prickled in the air like a coming storm. Forcing his ruffled fur flat, Thunder padded to the center of the clearing and faced Clear Sky. “I want to help you,” he began, “but prey is scarce already. We can’t give what we catch to rogues.”