Surprise pulsed through Clear Sky. “You want to join us?” Pride edged his mew. His reputation was clearly spreading.
Leaf narrowed his eyes. “We don’t need more cats.”
Quick Water scrambled down from the slope and stopped beside Falling Feather. “We have enough rogues, thanks.”
Nettle stared at Thorn. “He looks like he’s sick.”
Thorn lifted his head and shook out his pelt. Fur clouded around him. “I’m just molting.”
Clear Sky stood still. His thoughts whirled. New cats would mean more fighters. Of course, the tom would have to smarten himself up. The forest cats weren’t going to take in sickly strays.
Fircone paced around the two strangers, his gaze flitting over them. “We don’t need more mouths to feed.”
“We can feed ourselves, thanks,” Dew told him.
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. We’ll need more territory if we have more cats. He swallowed back a purr.
Falling Feather padded to his side. “Shall I chase them off?” she asked quietly.
Clear Sky looked at her, rounding his eyes with surprise. “Why would I want you to chase them off? We need allies, and these cats look like they can take care of themselves.”
Falling Feather backed away, pelt pricking. “But I thought—”
“Let me do the thinking.” Clear Sky swished his tail. “I think we should consider their request.”
Leaf tipped his head. “Why?”
Clear Sky gazed slowly around at the cats. He knew he must appear reasonable, and not let Dew and Thorn think that they could just walk in and find a soft place to sleep. “Leaf’s question is a good one.” He turned to the strangers. “Why should we take you in?”
“We can hunt prey for you as well as ourselves,” Thorn told him.
Dew nodded. “Thorn looks scrawny, but he’s wily, and as fast as a ferret.”
“Dew’s a good fighter,” Thorn offered. “No cat’s taken prey from her since she was a kit.”
Clear Sky nodded slowly. They sounded promising. “Anything else?” He wasn’t going to make this easy.
Dew and Thorn glanced at each other.
“We have information you might find useful,” Dew meowed softly.
Clear Sky pricked his ears. “About what?”
Thorn’s whiskers twitched. “We’ve been watching your rivals.”
Clear Sky snorted. “We have no rivals.”
Dew’s eyes glittered. “Really? What about the cats who live on the moor? The one they call Gray Wing?”
“And the orange tom with the big white paws?” Thorn added.
“Thunder?” Quick Water darted forward, ears pricking. “How is he?”
“Is he okay?” Falling Feather padded to her friend’s side, eyes bright.
Thunder has gone back to Gray Wing? Clear Sky glared at Falling Feather. “Be quiet.” He snapped his gaze back to Dew. “What have you seen?”
“We’ve watched their kits practicing battle skills.” Dew stared at Clear Sky, unblinking.
“They’ve learned how to attack a dead rabbit,” Thorn sneered. “And the older cats were discussing how to turn hunting moves into battle moves.”
Clear Sky forced the fur along his spine to stay flat. What was Gray Wing up to?
Thorn went on. “They were about to practice fighting, but a black cat interrupted.”
“Do you mean Tall Shadow?” Falling Feather padded closer.
Thorn shrugged. “Maybe.”
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. “Why did the black cat interrupt?”
Dew shrugged. “She and Gray Wing made some kind of speech from a rock. Then the rest of the cats started cheering.”
Thorn frowned with distaste. “They were chanting names. Then every cat ate.”
“Every cat?” Clear Sky curled his lip. “Was there enough prey?”
“More than enough,” Dew told him. “They had a heap of it and they gobbled it up like a pack of dogs.”
Clear Sky’s belly tightened. “It sounds like they’re preparing for battle.”
“Gray Wing wouldn’t start a battle!” Quiet Water gasped.
Wouldn’t he? Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. Gray Wing might be soft, but he was no fool. He’d fight if he thought it was the right thing to do. And yet, the last time they’d spoken, Gray Wing had backed away from challenging Clear Sky directly over Bumble’s death. Why show hostility now?
Thunder!
Clear Sky stiffened. Was that why his son had left? Had he gone to warn Gray Wing that Clear Sky was planning to expand his borders?
Jealousy burned beneath his pelt. Had Thunder only come to the forest in the first place to spy for Gray Wing?
Traitor!
He’d been Gray Wing’s cat all along! I trusted him because he was my son! Hackles rising, Clear Sky felt a growl rise in his throat. I’m a fool!
“Can we join you then?” Dew’s calm mew jolted him from his thoughts.
“Yes!” Pulsing with rage, Clear Sky barged past the rogues and headed into the woods. I was right to set boundaries. I’m right to train my cats for battle. War was coming. He could feel it. Gray Wing was on the move.
Clear Sky’s claws spiked leaves as he marched through the woods. If Gray Wing thinks he’s going to take us by surprise, then he can think again! We’ll be ready. He halted and stared between the trees. Beyond, the moor rose like a spine arching against the setting sun. You want battle? He pictured Gray Wing training his cats to fight. I’ll give you war.
Chapter 6
Where is everyone? Thunder strained to see through the mist. Dawn light filtered weakly through the thick fog, which shrouded the moor. Am I early?
He was waiting to join Gray Wing’s expedition to Clear Sky’s camp. Gorse Fur had promised to come. Jackdaw’s Cry had volunteered too. But Thunder was the only one outside the hollow.
Paw steps scuffed behind him.
Thunder whipped around. “Gray Wing?”
A dark shape showed through the mist. “It’s me.” Jackdaw’s Cry’s mew was hushed. “Where are the others?” His black face emerged from the fog, a muzzle-length away.
Thunder shrugged. “I’m the only one here.” He stretched his ears. The fog muffled the sounds of the camp. “Is anyone else out of their nest?”
“It was too foggy to tell.” Jackdaw’s Cry shook out his pelt with a shiver and sat down.
Thunder faced the moor stiffly as silence descended between them, thicker than the fog. He remembered the black tom’s hostile gaze yesterday. Jackdaw’s Cry had never wanted him to join the cats on the moor, even as a kit. He hunched against the chill of the fog, the memory of his early loss echoing painfully in his chest. In one day, he’d lost his mother, been rejected by his father, and then had to stand and listen while Gray Wing pleaded with the moor cats to allow him to stay in their camp. Jackdaw’s Cry had argued that they couldn’t take in another mouth to feed. He’d backed down when Gray Wing had threatened to leave if Thunder was sent away, but Thunder still carried the memory of the black tom’s resentful gaze.
He pictured it now, its sharpness boring deeper and deeper until Thunder couldn’t stay quiet. “Are you hoping I’ll go back to my father?”
Jackdaw’s Cry jerked around, blinking. “Why would you say that?” He sounded confused.
“I’ve seen how you’ve been watching me since I returned,” Thunder growled bitterly. “You didn’t want me back. You never wanted me to begin with.”