River Ripple murmured agreement, though Gray Wing noticed his whiskers twitching as if he was amused.
“Okay,” Gray Wing began, “there are obviously voles around here. So what we have to do is track some down. They live in tunnels, right?”
River Ripple nodded.
So hunting them must be much the same as hunting rabbits, Gray Wing decided. Though even Wind Runner couldn’t follow a vole down its hole!
“This way,” he meowed, veering back toward the bank, but farther downstream than the stepping-stones and River Ripple’s island. After a few paw steps he crouched down and pressed his ear to the ground.
“What in the world are you doing?” River Ripple asked, sounding astonished.
“Listening for voles,” Gray Wing explained, pleased there was something he knew that the silver tom didn’t. “But I don’t hear anything.”
“Let’s try farther on.” River Ripple seemed more interested now, and angled his ears toward a spot on the bank with a luxuriant growth of plants. “That’s the stuff voles like to eat.”
The second time Gray Wing listened he heard faint scratching noises under the ground. “There’s at least one vole under there.”
He scouted around, opening his jaws to taste the air, until he picked up the scent of vole and tracked it to a small hole in the ground among the roots of a hawthorn bush. “Stay there,” he instructed River Ripple.
Listening carefully for the scratching sounds, Gray Wing managed to follow the tunnel all the way to the other end, a hole in the side of the bank. He scrambled down carefully until he stood on the strip of mud and pebbles that separated the side of the bank from the water.
“Okay,” he called to River Ripple. “Scratch at that hole and yowl into it, as loud as you can.”
From his position he couldn’t see River Ripple, but he heard a fearsome screeching coming from the other end of the tunnel. That should get them moving, he thought, satisfied.
A moment later there was frantic squeaking and scuffling coming from inside the tunnel; first two—then three, then four—voles burst out into the open, their eyes wide with terror. Gray Wing felt a rush of exhilaration as he pounced on two of them, one under each paw. Expertly he snapped their necks, but as he turned to pursue the other two, a dark shadow flashed over him and a harsh cry sounded from above. He looked up and saw a hawk plummeting out of the sky, its talons extended.
Gray Wing barely had time to leap out of the way, rolling over on the pebbles, while the hawk snatched up one of the other voles as it tried to flee. The fourth vole plopped into the river and vanished.
River Ripple bounded up, peering down at Gray Wing from the top of the bank. “Let’s get out of here,” he urged. “We don’t need all this prey. We have more than enough on the island.”
Gray Wing rose to his paws, listening to the faint wheezing of his own breath. Ignoring River Ripple, he padded back to where he had left the two dead voles, and checked them all over for signs of illness, giving them a good sniff and parting their fur with careful claws. Satisfied that they were healthy, he picked them up by their tails and scrambled up the bank to drop them at River Ripple’s paws.
“I just wanted to contribute,” he meowed, his eyes burning with hurt. “To feel useful.”
River Ripple’s shoulders sagged. “You don’t need to prove yourself to me,” he murmured. “I’ve seen everything you’ve done, the way you’ve led your cats. But any cat can see that you have been hurting, and I was happy to give you a place to retreat to.” Gently he pushed the dead voles back toward Gray Wing. “Maybe you know some other cats who could use some food? Some kits, maybe?”
Gray Wing stared at the silver tom. “How did you know?” he gasped, astonished by his friend’s wisdom. “It’s true; I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Pebble Heart and Owl Eyes… and poor Sparrow Fur.”
I don’t even know if her injuries are better, he thought guiltily. And how is Pebble Heart coping with being a healer? And Owl Eyes… I hope he isn’t being overlooked because his brother has grown up so quickly. Does he get the chance to play and enjoy being a kit?
“I think it’s time for me to go home,” he told River Ripple.
The silver-furred tom dipped his head in understanding. “I wondered how long it would take for you to realize that,” he mewed. “But should you ever need refuge, you know where we are.”
Gray Wing felt a pang at the thought of leaving this cat who had become such a good friend.
“Would you like to come back to the hollow with me?” he asked. “Maybe you and Night and Dew could—”
He broke off as River Ripple shook his head.
“That’s not what we agreed at the four trees, remember? We need to separate and isolate this sickness. Besides, the island is my home. I could not live anywhere else.”
Gray Wing sighed regretfully. “I know. But I’ll miss you, River Ripple. Thank you for all your help. I’ll never forget what you have done for me.”
He touched noses with the silver tom, then turned and headed toward the hollow, picking up the pace as he felt the tough moorland grass under his paws once again. Excitement fluttered in his belly.
He would miss River Ripple, but he had missed the kits, too, more than he had realized until now.
Will they be glad to see me again? I hope so…
On his way to the camp, Gray Wing was crossing the center of the moorland when he heard a faint mewing coming from a scattering of rocks just ahead. To reach them he had to cross a dip in the ground, a sandy hollow that felt itchy against his pads. Halfway across he spotted a cat perched on a flat-topped rock, watching him.
“Wind Runner!” he exclaimed, dropping his prey in his surprise. “What are you doing out here on your own? Are you okay?”
Wind Runner leaped down from the rock and ran across the hollow to touch noses with him. “I’m not on my own,” she replied. “Come and say hello to Gorse Fur and the kits.”
Retrieving his voles, Gray Wing followed Wind Runner along a winding path through the rocks until they reached a bank where a rabbit burrow had been dug out to make a den like the ones in the moorland camp. Gorse Fur was sitting at the entrance, Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle tussling together on the grass in front of him.
They sprang apart when they saw Gray Wing, and Gorse Fur rose to his paws and came out to meet him. “It’s good to see you again,” he purred.
Gray Wing couldn’t help noticing how scrawny the two kits looked. “Would you like one of these voles?” he asked, setting one down between them.
“Thank you!” the two kits squeaked in chorus, falling on the prey with hungry bites.
Wind Runner cast a grateful glance at Gray Wing, who motioned to her to follow him aside for a few paw steps.
“I was sorry to hear that Morning Whisker had died, when we met at the four trees,” he meowed.
“I know what it’s like to grieve. How are you coping?”
Wind Runner’s whole body trembled, but she managed to control her emotion. “Look around you,” she responded. “I’m sheltered and dry here. I have my own space, and there’s room for my kits to grow and flourish.”
Gray Wing bit back a comment that her kits seemed to be doing anything but flourishing. “Life as a rogue is hard,” he murmured gently.
“We’re not rogues anymore!” Wind Runner snapped at him with some of her old tartness. “Yes, life is hard, but I’m setting up my own group here.”
“Really?” Gray Wing asked, surprised.
Wind Runner shrugged. “Okay, maybe now I’m making a home for my family. But I’m doing something that’s more than wandering around like a rogue cat, without a real home or friends. I’ve learned a lot from living with the others, and now I want to put that to use here. The hollow and the forest aren’t the only places a group of cats could live.”