“Do you really think talking will help?” Her gaze was disbelieving.
Gray Wing padded toward the dark opening of the tunnel where he and Turtle Tail made their nest. “I have to try it, Turtle Tail,” he sighed. “He’s my brother.”
She didn’t say a word in response, which felt like a greater punishment than if she’d protested. “I’ll fetch the kits,” she meowed eventually.
“Turtle Tail, I…” he began.
“I need to keep them safe!” she snapped, cutting him off.
He watched her pad away; then he climbed into their nest. Around him, night enfolded the camp. Gorse Fur and Jagged Peak were tearing apart the prey the hunting party had brought back, giving pieces to each of the cats.
Jagged Peak carried a haunch of rabbit across the clearing. “You must be hungry.” He dropped it beside Gray Wing’s nest.
Its warm scent filled Gray Wing’s nose. “Not really.” Anxiety was churning in his belly. He stared past Jagged Peak at Thunder, who was nipping sprigs of heather from the camp wall and laying them in his new nest. He was pleased to have him back. The hollow felt like Thunder’s rightful home.
No.
He pushed the thought away. He’s not my kit. I have no right to claim him. But Clear Sky had let him go twice. Was it possible to negotiate with any cat cruel enough to drive away his own son?
Jagged Peak followed his gaze. “Are you glad he’s back?”
Gray Wing nodded. “Of course.”
“I guess Clear Sky doesn’t want any kin near him,” Jagged Peak murmured.
Gray Wing’s belly tightened more.
Small paws thrummed across the clearing. The kits were racing for the nest.
“I’m sleeping closest to Gray Wing tonight!” Sparrow Fur leaped in first.
Gray Wing felt a rush of joy. These kits weren’t his own any more than Thunder was, yet they treated him like their father.
Owl Eyes stopped beside the rabbit haunch and sniffed it.
“Hungry?” Purring, Jagged Peak nudged the gray kit’s cheek softly.
“Yes!” Owl Eye tore away a tiny mouthful.
Turtle Tail stopped beside the nest as Jagged Peak headed away. “Are you hungry, Pebble Heart?” She tipped her head to one side as Pebble Heart blinked solemnly up at her.
“A bit.”
She leaned past Owl Eyes and, hooking the juicy haunch toward her, tore it into pieces, giving a morsel to each of her kits.
Sparrow Fur purred loudly as she chewed and snuggled closer to Gray Wing.
Gray Wing wrapped his tail over her and tugged her back to make room for Turtle Tail.
Turtle Tail hopped into the nest, her back to him, and sat stiffly, watching Owl Eyes and Pebble Heart eat.
Gray Wing eyed her. “Please don’t be angry,” he whispered.
“Angry?” Sparrow Fur glanced at her mother. “About what?”
Turtle Tail leaned down and nuzzled Sparrow Fur’s ear. “It’s nothing to worry about.” Circling around in the heather, she settled beside Gray Wing. He relaxed as she rested into him, her fur warm against his flank. As Owl Eyes and Pebble Heart finished their meal, she beckoned them into the nest. “Come on, you two.”
They scrambled in and pushed their way between Gray Wing and Turtle Tail.
“Ow!” Sparrow Fur wriggled. “You stood on my tail.”
“You should keep it tucked in!” Owl Eyes retorted.
“Now, now,” Turtle Tail chided softly. “It’s time to go to sleep.”
Gradually, the kits quieted down. Gray Wing watched through the darkness as the rest of the moor cats padded to their nests and settled around the clearing until they were as still as stone in the shadows.
Turtle Tail’s eyes slowly closed as she drifted into sleep.
Gray Wing felt suddenly weary. What was he going to say to Clear Sky? What if talking made things worse? Tiredness dragged at his paws and he closed his eyes. His thoughts began to swirl toward sleep.
“No! No! Don’t! Please!” Pebble Heart’s tiny cry jolted him awake. The kit was struggling in his sleep, kicking out against his littermates, his eyes closed, clearly dreaming.
“It’s okay.” Gray Wing leaned forward and nosed the kit’s twitching flanks. “It’s just a dream.” He didn’t want Pebble Heart to wake the others.
Pebble Heart blinked awake and stared in horror at Gray Wing as though he were a badger in the nest.
“You’re safe,” Gray Wing ran his tail softly along the kit’s spine.
Pebble Heart sat up straight, his fur on end. “So much blood!” he breathed. “So much! It’s not right for kin to fight!”
“What do you mean?” Gray Wing’s breath caught in his throat.
Pebble Heart blinked at him blindly. “Kin mustn’t fight,” he murmured hazily.
Is he even properly awake? Gray Wing touched his nose to the kit’s ear.
Pebble Heart flinched.
Why was he so scared? Who were the kin? He’d wondered before if Pebble Heart had Stoneteller’s powers. The kit had described more than one vivid dream and he’d already learned the herbs that Cloud Spots used, as though he was born to heal. Could this nightmare have meaning? Gray Wing remembered his own dream of Stoneteller. There will be war.
But Pebble Heart was trembling and it seemed cruel to make him dwell on the dream. Gray Wing pushed away the dark thoughts crowding his mind and scooped the kit closer with a paw, so that he was pressed against his flank. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. He lapped the kit’s pelt with long, soothing strokes until Pebble Heart’s eyes began to droop.
“The worst bit of the dream,” Pebble Heart murmured as his breathing slowed. “Was that you were gone.”
“Hush.” Gray Wing’s belly tightened.
“Turtle Tail was gone too. We were alone. Just me and Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes. We were all alone.”
“It was just a dream,” Gray Wing promised. Let it just be a dream! He stretched his tail around all three kits, his heart aching as he listened to Turtle Tail breathing softly beside him. Turtle Tail was gone too. “We will always be close,” he whispered to Pebble Heart, trying to ignore the dread, heavy as rock in his chest. I must make Clear Sky understand. We cannot risk war! Not after coming so far.
Chapter 3
Thunder narrowed his eyes against the rising sun as he padded back into camp. He’d left to hunt before dawn, after a fitful night. His new nest had felt strange, its heather sprigs sharp. The scents of moor and forest had haunted his dreams. And his heart had ached with memories of his father.
He brushed past the wall of the camp and crossed the clearing. A mouse dangled from his jaws. Its warm musk made his belly growl. He used to believe that he hunted better in the forest. Now he realized how much he’d missed the wide-open spaces and the feel of the wind in his tail fur. Perhaps Clear Sky’s territory wasn’t home after all.
The other cats were out of their nests. Rainswept Flower was tugging stale heather from her nest. Dappled Pelt was sorting through the prey pile, tossing out old prey while Jackdaw’s Cry sat nearby, washing pollen from Hawk Swoop’s ears. Tall Shadow was squeezing out of the gorse den where Cloud Spots had led Frost. Jagged Peak rubbed the sleep from his eyes beside the long grass.
Thunder blinked. Where were Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail? Had they gone hunting? A pang jabbed his belly. He’d missed the cats he’d grown up with and he’d been looking forward to catching up with them. Hawk Swoop had kitted them soon after Gray Wing had brought him to live on the moor. They’d shared the same nest and played as kits. Yesterday, he’d felt too dazed, his mind too filled with thoughts of Clear Sky and the unease of returning to the moor cats’ camp, to seek out their company. Although he’d glimpsed Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail among the others, he hadn’t felt ready to speak with them. And they hadn’t approached him. Were they scared he’d changed? He shook out his fur. He was eager to show them he was still the same cat they used to tumble around the clearing with.