Gray Wing swallowed. “With Clear Sky?”
“Don’t be scared,” Stoneteller soothed.
Gray Wing lifted his head. “I’m not scared!” But his heart quickened. How can I fight my own brother?
“Remember the cats who love and trust you,” Stoneteller murmured. “You and Clear Sky may be divided, but you still have Jagged Peak.”
Warmth filled Gray Wing’s chest as he remembered his younger brother’s courage and loyalty.
“And Turtle Tail?” Stoneteller’s eyes rounded with curiosity. “How is she?”
“She’s happy.” A loving purr choked Gray Wing’s mew.
“You recognized the strength of her love at last.” Stoneteller’s eyes shone. “I’m glad.”
Gray Wing shifted his paws. He could picture Turtle Tail now, sleeping beside him as he walked in his dreams. Pebble Heart, Owl Eyes, and Sparrow Fur would be curled at her belly, still kits but growing each day. Though they were the offspring of a kittypet, he loved them as his own and they loved him, as much as Turtle Tail loved him.
A pang jabbed his heart. He missed them all, even though he knew that his pelt was touching theirs, far away on the moor. How? As his mind began to cloud with confusion, he tugged his thoughts back to the cave. For now, this is all that matters.
He turned wistfully toward Stoneteller, but she was staring toward the waterfall, faint moonlight dappling her face.
She closed her eyes. “Why have you come here?”
Did I choose this dream? Unease flickered beneath Gray Wing’s pelt. Something had drawn him deep into memories. But what? Sudden guilt hollowed his belly. Since they had reached the moors, the tribe cats had seen so much death. Gray Wing stiffened as he instinctively thought of Fox, the rogue who had died at his own paws, killed accidentally as they’d fought over boundaries. “We brought death with us.”
“You brought change,” Stoneteller soothed.
“But must all change be born in blood?” I only ever intended for my friends to be safe.
“We are all born in blood,” Stoneteller murmured. “But it marks the beginning, not the end.”
The beginning? Was there more blood to come?
Mist rolled through the cave entrance, swallowing the Tribe, enfolding Stoneteller until he could no longer see her.
“Stoneteller!” The thick haze swamped his cry. “Don’t go!” Grief tightened his throat. He didn’t want to lose his old friends again.
“I have faith in you, Gray Wing.” Stoneteller’s mew echoed through the shrouding haze. “Always.”
Fog filled Gray Wing’s eyes and clogged his throat. He struggled for breath as it reached into his chest, dizziness muddling his thoughts until the darkness claimed him.
Chapter 1
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. He could see Thunder’s bright ginger pelt threading through the ferns. His son was climbing the slope to the moor, leaving the forest with Frost.
I suppose that’s what he must do. Clear Sky tried to ignore the regret gnawing in his belly. Above him, a soft breeze whispered through the leaves. Warm sunshine dappled his pelt. Behind him, the gnarled trunks of ancient trees creaked. Musty scents pooled at his paws where leaf litter lay thick on the ground. This was his territory. If Thunder didn’t want to live here, then he could leave. Frost had to leave, but Thunder had chosen to. Frost was wounded—an injury that was not healing and might grow bad. An infected cat couldn’t stay in the camp. His weakness would burden the forest tribe. Doesn’t Thunder understand that? he thought, clawing the earth with frustration. Why did so few cats understand him? All he wanted to do was protect his cats in the forest—that was all he’d ever wanted to do, since setting up home here. But his own son had called him a monster for caring. Well, he must leave, then. I won’t have my authority undermined. If Clear Sky kept telling himself this, maybe the pain in his belly would fade…
Tribe! The word rang like a blackbird’s cry in Clear Sky’s mind. It was the first time he’d thought of the forest cats as a tribe. No! He pushed the thought away sharply. We’re not a tribe! After moons of rich prey, the forest cats were sleeker and better fed than the poor starvelings who’d chosen to stay in the mountains. With the right leadership, they could flourish in lush forest. They could become stronger than any mountain cat. They need never know cold or hunger again.
Flicking his tail, Clear Sky turned and headed through the trees.
White fur flashed at the edge of his vision. Falling Feather was stalking through the tall grass edging the forest.
Clear Sky’s pelt lifted irritably along his spine as he remembered Falling Feather’s parting words to Thunder. I almost wish I were coming with you. Thunder had tried to persuade the white she-cat to desert with him. And she’d actually considered it!
Clear Sky unsheathed his claws. “Falling Feather!”
Her head jerked up. “Clear Sky?” She looked surprised.
“I want to talk to you.”
She blinked at him over the grass. “What about?”
Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. Didn’t she realize he’d overheard her? “I was watching you say good-bye to Thunder and Frost.”
“Were you?”
She tried to sound innocent but he could see the fur around her neck rippling guiltily. “Come here.” He scowled at her. “Well?”
“I just wished them well, that’s all.” She pushed through the long grass toward him.
“Thunder asked you to leave with him.” He stared at her accusingly.
She bounded from the grass and landed on the leaf-strewn ground a tail-length away. “I told him no.”
“You told him you almost wished you were going with him.” He circled her, his tail twitching irritably. She was acting like she’d done nothing wrong.
“I decided to stay.” Her gaze sharpened. “What’s it to you? I can go anywhere I like.”
Clear Sky showed his teeth. Dumb cat! Didn’t she realize how much she needed his protection and guidance? “You are part of my tribe now. If I can’t rely on your loyalty, then you might as well leave for good.”
“Tribe?” Falling Feather’s eyes widened in surprise. “We’re not a tribe. Half our kin are in the mountains. Half the cats we traveled with live on the moor. We have no Stoneteller to guide us.”
Heat scorched beneath Clear Sky’s pelt. The word had slipped out accidentally. Did she have to humiliate him? “Okay, we’re not a tribe,” he snapped. “We’re better than a tribe. Who needs a Stoneteller? You have me.” He lashed his tail. “I guide you now. I found our camp. I decide our borders. You should be grateful. Because of me, you will never be hungry or cold again.”
“Because of you?” Falling Feather snorted. “You act like you brought us here! Have you forgotten that we made the journey from the mountains together? Who saved Quick Water from drowning? I did! Who saved Jagged Peak from the eagle? Gray Wing. We protected each other. No cat is more important than any other—no cat except Stoneteller. She speaks with the ancients. She’s wiser than you’ll ever be!”
Rage surged through Clear Sky’s belly. “Look at this place!” He swept his tail toward the trees. Birds sang in their branches. Prey scuttled among their roots. “If she’s so wise, why did she stay in the mountains to starve?”