Black Ear pricked his ears. “What’s our Clan called?”
Gray Wing paused. What name would reflect all they had come from and how they lived? He thought of the high, wide moor, the breeze forever streaming through his pelt. “We are WindClan,” he whispered at last.
Silver Stripe clambered onto Gray Wing’s flank. “Then Thunder’s group must be ThunderClan.”
White Tail hopped up beside his sister. “And Tall Shadow’s Clan can be ShadowClan!”
Black Ear squirmed free of Gray Wing. “River Ripple’s group must be RiverClan!”
Slate slid into the nest beside him and pressed her flank to his. Warmth flowed through his fur, reaching his bones.
“What should Clear Sky’s group be called?” White Tail asked.
Gray Wing gazed at Clear Sky. His brother’s fur was matted. His cheek was swollen, his eyes dull with pain. And yet Gray Wing recognized the determined gaze he’d known as a kit when they’d shared a nest in the mountains and explored the cave together. It had been Clear Sky who had cajoled and bullied him into taking his first peek at the snow beyond the waterfall. Whatever had happened in Gray Wing’s life, Clear Sky had been part of it, and whatever troubles they had faced, Clear Sky had always had his gaze fixed bravely on the distant horizon. “SkyClan,” Gray Wing breathed, reaching for his brother’s gaze with the dark knowledge that soon he’d see it no more.
Clear Sky’s whiskers twitched. “SkyClan,” he murmured. “Trust you to name my Clan for something beyond my reach.”
Gray Wing held his gaze. “The sky is all around you,” he mewed softly. “You walk through it every day. It’s just that you don’t realize it.” He went on before Clear Sky could speak. “Did you really save my kit?”
Thunder butted in. “He risked his life to grab him from the paws of a monster.”
“Thank you.” Gray Wing’s mew was hoarse.
Movement caught his eye. In the shadows behind Clear Sky, stars seemed to sparkle. The walls of the gorse den shifted as a new face appeared, a face Gray Wing recognized at once. “Bright Stream!”
He could see her as she stopped beside Clear Sky. Two kits stood at her paws, one tabby and one pale gray.
She blinked at him, then touched her nose to the kits’ heads. “They are the kits I was carrying when I died,” she whispered.
Gray Wing’s gaze darted to Clear Sky. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Clear Sky tipped his head.
“Bright Stream! She’s beside you. With your kits.”
“My kits?” Clear Sky shifted his paws uneasily. “Can you see them now?”
“Yes! She was carrying them when she died.” Joy filled Gray Wing’s heart. “They’re… beautiful.”
Bright Stream purred, stars twinkling in her whiskers. “They will be with me always.”
Another cat stepped from the shadowy depths of the den. Shaded Moss! Gray Wing recognized him with joy. And Rainswept Flower! More dead cats from his past gathered around the living, making the den walls sparkle with their starry pelts. Storm, whom both he and Clear Sky had once loved, stood with her kits. And Stoneteller, her eyes softly welcoming as she met Gray Wing’s gaze.
Quiet Rain, too, and his tiny sister, Fluttering Bird. Moon Shadow dipped his head, his pelt lustrous, with no sign of the pain that had tortured him in his final moments.
Turtle Tail!
She blinked at him, her eyes sparkling with sadness as her gaze flitted to White Tail, Black Ear, and Silver Stripe. “I wish you could stay with them, Gray Wing,” she whispered. “But it’s their destiny to know you only as a memory.”
Pain gripped Gray Wing’s chest. His breath was so shallow that he could hardly breathe at all.
And still, familiar pelts glimmered from the shadows—Hawk Swoop and Jackdaw’s Cry, their tails entwined. And Wind Runner’s tiny kits, pressing close to Turtle Tail. Every cat he’d known was here.
All the friends he’d lost—on the journey, in the Great Battle, from illness or from accident. They were all here, waiting for him to join them.
“Gray Wing?” Slate’s mew ruffled his ear fur. “What are you looking at?”
Gray Wing took a shuddering breath. “They’ve come for me. They’re not dead. They’re just waiting for me to go with them.” He nuzzled Slate’s cheek. “Never forget how much I love you.” Then he touched the heads of his kits one by one. “Silver Stripe, be brave and take care of your mother.
White Tail, learn all that you can so that one day you will make your Clan proud. Black Ear, forgive any harm you’ve been done and show kindness to your Clanmates. For we are all fighting a hard battle, and sometimes kindness is all we need.”
Black Ear blinked at him, his eyes clouding with confusion. “You sound like you’re saying good-bye.”
“I am.” Gray Wing lapped his cheek.
“No!” Black Ear scrambled over his flank and began pummeling his shoulder.
“Don’t go!” White Tail’s cry faded as Gray Wing felt his last breath leave his body. The tightness in his chest eased as the invisible jaws finally let go.
Drawing in a deep breath, Gray Wing got to his paws. Lightly he stepped from his nest. He glanced back and saw Slate, Silver Stripe, White Tail, and Black Ear clinging to the body he no longer needed. “I will always be watching you,” he whispered.
He turned toward the starry cats, and they moved aside and let him pass. Padding into the shadows of the den, he felt their pelts brush his and heard their welcoming purrs.
He walked at their side, deeper into the darkness, until the gorse walls opened onto a vast horizon of rolling hills. In the distance, the sun was rising, sending dazzling streams of light spilling over the earth.
I have traveled so far and loved so much, and yet I am still following the Sun Trail, heading for my new hunting grounds.