With a contemptuous flick of her tail, Storm pushed past the two toms and led the way down the track toward Clear Sky’s clearing.
“Why are those cats so hostile?” Gray Wing asked, his confusion pushing aside the awkwardness he felt meeting Storm again.
Storm glanced at him over her shoulder. “Clear Sky thinks it’s important to build a strong community, and he believes part of that is keeping other cats away from the prey that we hunt.”
“I see,” Gray Wing murmured, though he wasn’t sure that was true. Isn’t there enough prey for every cat? “How do you like it here in the forest?” he asked.
“It’s a safe place where cats can look out for each other,” said Storm, with another flashing glance back at him. “Clear Sky and I will be happy to have our kits grow up here.”
Gray Wing felt that the words would choke him, but he forced them out. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”
As Gray Wing and Storm pushed their way through the barrier of ferns that surrounded Clear Sky’s clearing, Clear Sky rushed over to them. Ignoring Gray Wing, he laid his tail across Storm’s shoulders.
“Why did you leave the camp?” he demanded. “You should be resting! What about our kits?”
I guess losing Bright Stream has made Clear Sky extra protective, Gray Wing thought.
Storm didn’t seem to appreciate Clear Sky’s concern. “I’m not going to break apart because I go for a walk,” she retorted.
“It’s still a risk you don’t need to take,” Clear Sky asserted. “Now go to your nest and take a nap.”
Storm’s eyes blazed with fury, but she didn’t protest, just stalked off and disappeared under an elder bush.
Gray Wing felt awkward that he’d witnessed their argument, but his embarrassment faded a moment later as Jagged Peak came bouncing up to him. “Gray Wing! It’s so good to see you! I’ve got so much to tell you.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” Gray Wing responded. Jagged Peak was almost fully grown now, his eyes bright and his pelt shining with health. “Are you—”
“I’m quite busy just now,” Clear Sky interrupted. “What do you want, Gray Wing? And by the way, Jagged Peak, you’re supposed to be hunting. Off you go.”
Gray Wing blinked in surprise to hear Clear Sky giving orders, but Jagged Peak didn’t seem to mind. Ducking his head to Gray Wing, he scampered off happily.
“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Gray Wing asked, flicking his tail toward the pool at the center of the camp. No cats were there, and he wanted to be sure he could tackle Clear Sky without any of the others butting in.
Clear Sky twitched his ears impatiently, then nodded. “Sure, help yourself.”
Gray Wing padded to the water’s edge and lapped a couple of mouthfuls he didn’t really want. He took a moment to collect himself, then he turned back to his brother.
“Jackdaw’s Cry told me that he wasn’t allowed to come and see Falling Feather,” he meowed, shaking water droplets from his whiskers. “I wanted to know what that’s all about.”
Clear Sky shrugged. “I know Fox and Frost can be a bit too keen on guarding the boundaries,” he admitted, “but it’s the only way to keep cats safe.”
“What?” Gray Wing looked at his brother in confusion. “Boundaries?”
“I’m trying to protect our new home,” Clear Sky explained, sounding a bit defensive.
“I can see that.” Gray Wing chose his words carefully. “But it worries me that you’re creating divisions between us—I mean between the cats who came from the mountains.”
“That’s not true!” Clear Sky insisted. “You’re all welcome to visit at any time.”
“Then maybe you should tell Fox and Frost that—” Gray Wing began.
A terrified screech interrupted him, and he spun around to see Falling Feather and Moon Shadow racing across the clearing.
“What happened?” Clear Sky demanded.
“It’s Jagged Peak!” Falling Feather panted. “We were hunting a squirrel, and he fell from the tree.”
“He can’t get up,” Moon Shadow added.
“Show me,” Clear Sky snapped.
Gray Wing’s belly lurched with anxiety as he followed his brother and the other cats out of the clearing. Not Jagged Peak, he thought, anguished, remembering the young cat’s energy and courage. He can’t be dead!
A few tail-lengths into the forest the cats halted at the foot of a tall beech tree. Jagged Peak lay in a clump of crushed fern; relief rushed through Gray Wing as he heard his little brother groan. He’s alive!
But one of Jagged Peak’s hind legs lay at an odd angle. Blood was trickling from a gash and clotting in his fur.
“What can we do?” Falling Feather asked worriedly.
“I’ll get Dappled Pelt or Cloud Spots,” Gray Wing meowed at once. “They’ll know how to help him.” He set off at once, only halting for a heartbeat to yowl back at Clear Sky, “Tell Fox and Frost to let us through!”
Gray Wing raced along the edge of the trees and back across the moor, forcing out every last scrap of speed. Wind blew through his fur and he felt the rough moorland grass scrape his belly.
When he reached the hollow, Cloud Spots was out hunting, but Dappled Pelt was there, stretched out in a patch of weak sunshine and talking quietly with Shattered Ice. She leaped to her paws at once when Gray Wing told her what had happened.
“Of course I’ll come,” she mewed. They set off.
Clear Sky and his cats hadn’t dared to move Jagged Peak from where he lay among the ferns. Falling Feather was crouching beside him, licking him gently and murmuring encouragement. She rose and stepped back when she saw Dappled Pelt. “Can you do anything?” she asked.
“I’m sure I can,” Dappled Pelt replied soothingly. “Jagged Peak, I’m going to take a look at your leg, and then decide what’s best.”
“Okay,” the little cat rasped, his voice taut with pain. “I’m glad you’re here, Dappled Pelt.”
The slender tortoiseshell bent over Jagged Peak’s leg, sniffing all down its length. “Do you have any marigold?” she asked Clear Sky.
“We can get some,” Clear Sky replied. He flicked his ears toward Moon Shadow. “You know where it grows?”
Moon Shadow nodded and dashed off.
“Gray Wing, can you find me two long, straight sticks?” Dappled Pelt asked. “And a few lengths of bindweed.”
“Right,” Gray Wing responded.
He padded deeper into the wood, spotting bindweed twining around a fallen tree, and a tangled heap that he suspected was an old rook’s nest. He chose two straight sticks, and tore off some bindweed, then made his way back to Jagged Peak.
“Thanks, Gray Wing,” Dappled Pelt meowed. “Jagged Peak’s leg is broken,” she continued, “but if we bind it up with these sticks, the bones will join again. I’ve never done this before, but I watched Stoneteller once when Sharp Hail fell off a rock. He was fine. You will be too, Jagged Peak.”
“I hope so,” the little cat murmured.
“Now this is going to hurt a bit,” Dappled Pelt warned him. “Some cat find him another stick to bite on.”
After Clear Sky had shoved another stick between Jagged Peak’s jaws, Dappled Pelt straightened his injured leg and fastened the two sticks on either side of it with the lengths of bindweed. Jagged Peak let out a shrill wail and bit down on the stick so hard that it splintered.
“Okay,” Dappled Pelt mewed. “The worst is over. You were very brave, Jagged Peak.”
Moon Shadow reappeared with a mouthful of marigold, which Dappled Pelt chewed up. She trickled the juice into the gash on Jagged Peak’s leg.
“He needs more of that every day,” she instructed Clear Sky. “And he could do with thyme for the shock, and poppy seed to help him sleep. Do you have any of that?”