Before he could decide what to say, Bright Stream gave her pelt a shake. “You should probably forget I said all that!” she meowed. “And don’t you dare tell Clear Sky! I don’t want him to think I’ve made a decision yet.”
“I won’t say a word,” Gray Wing promised.
I’m being torn in two, he thought. Clear Sky and I have always done everything together. Now I have to choose between going with him or staying here with the rest of my kin, in this place I’ve always called home.
A flicker of movement distracted him from his problems. Snow hare! Spinning around, he raced across the slope after his prey. Its thick white pelt hid it against the snow, but it stood out clearly when scampering over the rocks of the windblown ridge.
Bright Stream joined the chase, but Gray Wing outpaced her, relishing the feeling of the wind in his whiskers as he sped over the rocks.
With a final mighty leap he flung himself onto his prey; the hare’s squeal of panic was cut off as Gray Wing’s jaws met in its throat.
“Great catch!” Bright Stream panted. “You’re so fast!”
“It’s not bad,” Gray Wing mewed, prodding his prey with one paw. For once there seemed to be some flesh on its bones. “We can eat and still take some back to the cave.”
He and Bright Stream settled down side by side to enjoy the catch. As they feasted, he took in the magnificent peaks and valleys that stretched in front of them.
“You’re going to stay, aren’t you?” Bright Stream asked, fixing him with her clear green gaze.
Gray Wing took a deep breath. “Yes, I am.”
When they had eaten their fill, the two cats picked up the remains of the hare and headed back toward the cave. Triumph flooded through Gray Wing at the thought of feeding his Tribemates.
When the waterfall came in sight, he spotted a group of cats toiling up the slope toward them. Shaded Moss was in the lead, with Clear Sky padding along at his shoulder. Tall Shadow, Dappled Pelt, and Rainswept Flower followed close behind. Turtle Tail brought up the rear.
“Hi,” Clear Sky meowed as the group came up. “Hey, you caught a hare!”
Gray Wing gave a nod of satisfaction. “Yes, we’re just taking it back.”
“We’re climbing up to the ridge,” Clear Sky explained, sweeping his tail around to include his companions. “We want to look for the best way to get out of the mountains toward the sunrise.”
“Aren’t you joining us?” Turtle Tail asked, bounding up to Gray Wing’s side.
Gray Wing hesitated. He was sure now about his decision to stay, but he didn’t want to share it with the other cats just yet. “We’re tired from hunting,” he replied. “Maybe later.”
Entering the cave, Gray Wing could feel how restless his Tribemates were. Some were gathered in little groups around the edges of the cavern, talking together in hushed voices. Others paced to and fro as if they were too anxious to settle. There was no sign of Stoneteller.
“Do you think they’re really going to leave?” Stone Song muttered as he and his mate Hollow Tree padded past.
“I guess so,” Hollow Tree responded. “Are they flea-brained? They have no idea what’s out there, or whether the place they’re looking for even exists.”
Gray Wing knew that they spoke for many of the Tribe. He wished that Stoneteller had never had her vision, or that she had never spoken of it. Doesn’t she know how it’s tearing the Tribe apart?
“But why can’t I go?” Jagged Peak was heading for the cave entrance, only to be intercepted by Quiet Rain.
“For the last time,” his mother meowed, her tail-tip twitching impatiently, “you are too little to be out of the cave.”
“It’s not fair!” Jagged Peak’s shoulder fur bristled as he glared at his mother.
“Come on, Jagged Peak.” Snow Hare padded up, dipping her head to Quiet Rain as she approached. “I’ll show you a new game. Let’s see if you can catch this stone.” She swiped her paw and sent a flat pebble skimming across the floor of the cave.
Jagged Peak pelted after it with an excited squeal.
“Thanks, Stone Hare,” Quiet Rain murmured. “I can’t let him go out while there’s deep snow on the ground.”
“You’re welcome,” the elder responded.
Gray Wing carried the remains of the hare over to his mother and dropped it at her paws. “Here, do you want some?” he asked.
Quiet Rain purred her gratitude. “That’s a fine catch,” she told him. “I’ll take some of it to Fluttering Bird.” Her voice quivered as she added, “She couldn’t get out of the nest this morning. But she’ll be much better after she’s had something to eat.”
Gray Wing followed his mother as she carried the hare across the cave to the sleeping hollow where Fluttering Bird was curled up.
“Are you going with Shaded Moss?” Quiet Rain asked him as she set the prey down at the edge of the hollow. “I know Clear Sky will go…” She was clearly trying to speak lightly, but her words ended with a sorrowful sigh.
“I’m staying,” Gray Wing told her, touching her ear with his nose. “This is my home. I want to catch enough prey so that the rest of us can survive. Many moons ago, our ancestors left the lake and came here. I can’t believe that was for no reason.”
Quiet Rain rested her muzzle on the top of his head. “I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. For a few heartbeats Gray Wing felt the same sense of comfort and security as when he was a small kit, suckling at his mother’s belly.
Stooping over the sleeping hollow, Quiet Rain licked Fluttering Bird’s shoulder. “Wake up, little one,” she mewed. “I’ve got some food for you.”
A sharp pang of anxiety stabbed through Gray Wing as he looked at Fluttering Bird; she hardly seemed to be breathing.
“Fluttering Bird!” Quiet Rain prodded her with one forepaw, but the kit still didn’t wake. “Gray Wing, fetch Stoneteller,” his mother said, panic in her voice.
Gray Wing sped off across the cave and plunged down the tunnel that led into the Cavern of the Pointed Stones. He had only been there once before, and he slowed as he reached the entrance, overcome by awe in spite of his urgency.
Creeping into the cave, he saw narrow beams of sunlight slanting through the hole in the roof, lighting the columns of stone that stretched upward for many tail-lengths. Pools on the ground reflected the sunlight, and the huge hollow space was filled with the sound of steadily dripping water.
At first Gray Wing couldn’t see Stoneteller. Then he spotted her sitting in the shadows, her tail wrapped around her paws and her eyes closed.
Is she asleep? he wondered as he approached.
But as he drew closer, Stoneteller opened her eyes. “Gray Wing—is something wrong?” she mewed.
“It’s Fluttering Bird,” Gray Wing explained, his heart beating fast. “She won’t wake up.”
At once Stoneteller rose to her paws. Turning to a crack in the rock, she took out a few shriveled leaves. Gray Wing caught a glimpse of her pitifully small store, and knew there would be no more healing herbs until the snow melted and warmer weather brought new growth.
He followed Stoneteller to where Fluttering Bird lay. Quiet Rain stood beside her, flexing her claws impatiently. Looking into her eyes, Gray Wing saw how desperate she was, already sick with grief for her daughter.
Stoneteller bent over the tiny kit and rested one paw on her chest to feel her breathing and her heartbeat. Chewing up one of the leaves, Stoneteller pried open the kit’s jaws and pushed the pulp onto her tongue. “Come along, little one,” she murmured. “Swallow this. It will make you feel better.”