As Clear Sky stared at her in confusion, One Eye raised his head. “Come out now!” he yowled.
At his words the undergrowth rustled and from all around the clearing cats emerged into the open: rogue cats who Clear Sky had never set eyes on before. He took in their scrawny bodies, their sharp teeth and claws, and their cold, malignant eyes. Their fur was clumped and spiky; they had rolled in mud and plant juices to disguise their scent from him and his cats, he realized, so that there would be nothing to warn them as they returned from the meeting. Every hair on Clear Sky’s pelt shivered in horror as the strangers stepped forward, surrounding him and his cats.
“Really, Clear Sky,” One Eye meowed in mockery. “You didn’t think I would move in without a few friends to back me up? Not even you would be that stupid!”
Clear Sky could see that he and his followers were badly outnumbered. If they tried to fight the rogues under One Eye’s leadership they would be torn to pieces. His heart began to race as fear throbbed through him, though he continued to face One Eye with a look of defiance.
“I told you to leave, Clear Sky,” One Eye meowed. “I’m not going to kill you. I know that you’ll suffer far more knowing that I took the leadership out of your paws because you couldn’t hold on to it.
So leave, before I have to put my claw marks on you.”
Clear Sky cast one final glance at the group of cats. My cats! They were bunched together uneasily, thoroughly cowed by the appearance of the strange rogues. Fervently he tried to send them the silent message that he wouldn’t abandon them. Somehow, I’ll find a way to come back for you.
But Snake turned his head away, and Clear Sky felt something die inside him. Do they really want my help? he asked himself.
“As for the rest of you,” One Eye continued, “you’ll stay here and take my mark. You won’t be harmed, provided you behave yourselves.”
Defeated, Clear Sky turned to go. But as he took the first paw steps, his gaze lighted on the hollow tree, and Sparrow Fur peering out helplessly from between the branches that imprisoned her.
I won’t leave her to be tortured by One Eye, Clear Sky resolved.
Letting his head droop and his tail trail along the ground, Clear Sky padded across the clearing in the direction of the hollow tree. The two strange cats nearest to it fell back to let him pass between them.
As soon as he was out of the circle of One Eye’s rogues, Clear Sky sprang forward. Darting up to the hollow tree, he tore at the branches with paws given strength from desperation. A gap opened up and Sparrow Fur wriggled through it.
“Run!” Clear Sky yowled.
He thrust the kit in front of him as One Eye let out a screech of rage and the whole gang of rogues turned to pursue him. But Clear Sky knew the forest far better than any newcomer. He showed Sparrow Fur the way between trees, under bushes, through bramble thickets, splashing for several fox-lengths up a narrow stream to break their scent. He was thankful that the young cat’s wounds had almost healed, and her strength held out, though her chest heaved with the effort of running and her breath rasped.
At last the furious shrieks and caterwauls died away behind them. Clear Sky burst out of the forest with Sparrow Fur hard on his paws. As she collapsed panting, he turned and looked back at the line of trees, where the last few leaves clung to stark, bare branches.
My home… what was my home.
Throwing back his head, Clear Sky sent up a wordless yowling, a desperate cry to any of his cats who could hear him. The sound died away into silence, and there was no response.
Clear Sky glanced down at Sparrow Fur, who met his gaze with wide, troubled eyes.
“What are we going to do, Clear Sky?” she asked.
Clear Sky took a breath to answer, but said nothing. He had nothing to say. He had lost his home and his group of cats. One Eye had defeated him.
Chapter 16
Gray Wing crouched under a bush at the edge of River Ripple’s island and watched River Ripple and Night, the black she-cat. As the sun glinted on the water the two cats dipped in their paws and scooped fish out onto the bank. The fish writhed there, the rainbow-colored scales reflecting the sunlight.
In the days that Gray Wing had spent with River Ripple, he could not get used to the idea of cats who didn’t mind getting their paws wet. He was intrigued by the thought of hunting like that: no scenting the air, no stalking or pouncing, just patience and a swift paw. Gray Wing remembered how
Dappled Pelt had sometimes caught fish that way on the journey out of the mountains.
So much has happened since then.
Gray Wing’s belly squirmed with guilt at the thought that he was completely reliant on River Ripple and his cats to provide him with food. None of them had complained, seeming to sense that he needed time to think. They had given him a soft nest and all the fish he could eat.
But Gray Wing knew that he couldn’t go on like this. Much more of it, and I’ll lose all my hunting skills. I was once a leader of cats, and now I’m being cared for like a kit!
He was pleased, however, that his breathing was much easier, and he hoped that Thunder was taking his rightful place as a leader.
Night hurled another fish out onto the bank and let out a mrrow of exultant laughter. “See that? It’s the biggest yet!”
“Nonsense!” River Ripple gave her a friendly nudge. “I’ve caught one at least a mouse-length bigger than that.”
Gray Wing rose to his paws and padded over to them. “I’d like to contribute some prey,” he meowed. “I think I’ll leave for a while and go hunting on the moor.”
“Fine,” River Ripple responded. “I’ll come with you.”
He took the lead as the two cats made their way over the stepping-stones to the riverbank, but once there Gray Wing forged ahead through the long grasses, his ears pricked for the sound of prey.
Before he had gone for many paw steps, he came upon Dew, another rogue who had joined River Ripple. Her gaze was fixed on a vole that was crouching under a nearby clump of fern.
Gray Wing halted, not wanting to disturb Dew’s hunt. Then as he looked more closely at the vole he saw that its belly was bloated, and that flecks of foam were spotted around its jaws.
“Don’t touch that,” he mewed. “It’s sick.”
Dew nodded. “It’s like the other one we found. Don’t worry. I’m not going near it.”
River Ripple peered over Gray Wing’s shoulder, then shook his head in frustration. “We’re seeing more and more of this. I don’t know what we can do to stop it.”
Dew let out a disgusted hiss. “It’s all well and good for us to separate, but now there’s no way of knowing if the others are having the same problem, or how far the illness has spread.”
“It has spread at least as far as the hollow,” Gray Wing told her somberly.
Dew shrugged, drawing back from the vole. “I’m going back to the island.”
River Ripple dipped his head to her. “Night and I caught plenty of fish. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Dew whipped around and vanished into the long grass.
Gray Wing and River Ripple continued, keeping well away from the sick vole.
“If you like, I’ll teach you some of my hunting techniques,” Gray Wing suggested. “On the moor they seem to think I’m pretty good at working out strategies and sniffing out prey.”