“Okay,” the tabby she-cat had agreed. “But mind you don’t let them go too far from the camp.” Now Gray Wing was content to let the kits play for a few moments, enjoying their carefree antics.
Farther across the moor, he could see Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt returning from the direction of the river, bunches of fresh herbs clamped in their jaws. Rainswept Flower emerged from a clump of gorse carrying the limp body of a rabbit. She dragged the prey into the hollow where Jackdaw’s Cry and Shattered Ice were digging out more earth to open up a new sleeping tunnel. Hawk Swoop and Tall Shadow sat close together, grooming themselves while they talked.
This feels like home now, Gray Wing thought, remembering their long journey from the mountains and their struggles to establish themselves on the moor. It had been hard to accept Stoneteller’s vision of a better home to be found if they followed the sun trail. The journey had been full of danger, and yet they had made it through. Life’s good here.
“Lightning Tail, you be a hare.” Thunder’s voice brought Gray Wing’s attention back to the kits. “I’ll show you how to catch one.”
“Okay.” Lightning Tail began hopping from side to side, imitating the irregular movement of a hare.
Thunder glanced at Acorn Fur and meowed, “Watch this!” Flattening himself to the ground he crept toward Lightning Tail, who kept glancing over his shoulder to see whether the older kit was catching up to him.
Thunder waggled his haunches and shot forward in an enormous leap. When he landed on top of Lightning Tail the black kit let out a squeal and rolled over on his back, wrapping his paws around Thunder’s neck, so that the two toms collapsed to the ground in a bundle of wriggling fur.
Clear Sky and I were just like that once, Gray Wing thought with a prickle of sadness. How did we ever come to quarrel so badly?
“You’re dead!” Thunder yowled. “I killed you!”
“I want to do it for real!” Acorn Fur announced, bouncing up to them. “I’m going to be the best hunter ever.”
“That’s good,” Gray Wing mewed, padding up to the kits. “But you’ve got a lot to learn before then.”
“I can creep like Thunder.” Lightning Tail pressed himself down and squirmed along with his paws scrabbling in the grass. “See?”
“Great,” Gray Wing responded, ignoring the kitten’s tail, which was waving around in the air. “But there’s more to that than catching prey. Out here on the moor, prey can see you from a long way off, so what do you have to do?”
“Leap on them… like this!” Acorn Fur screeched, jumping on top of her brother and knocking him off his paws.
Thunder dived in to join them. They would never catch anything if they couldn’t pay attention, but Gray Wing held back from reprimanding them. It felt good to watch the happy, healthy kits.
They’re so big and strong… twice the size of poor Fluttering Bird.
A twinge of grief passed through him as he remembered his sister, who had died in the mountains because there hadn’t been enough food for her during the cold season. He felt a rush of protective love for Thunder and the others; he was determined that they would grow into strong, healthy cats.
The cold season wasn’t so hard. There was always enough prey. Gray Wing still found it difficult to accept that the snow here wasn’t as thick as the snowfall in the mountains, and it didn’t stay around for so long. The frosts burned off much earlier in the mornings. There had been few days when they couldn’t hunt or find water to drink, especially in the forest, where the trees provided shelter from the worst of the cold weather. He suppressed a sigh. There were still times when he missed his home and his mother, Quiet Rain, but the easier life on the moor meant the kits had survived, and would soon see the warm season return.
Thunder and Lightning Tail kept wrestling, yowling loud enough to scare off all the prey on the moor. Acorn Fur broke away from them with a sudden shriek. “Watch me!”
She raced into the hollow and vanished down the tunnel opening where Gray Wing had seen Jackdaw’s Cry and Shattered Ice working earlier. He headed after her, his heart beginning to pound. There was a whole network of tunnels underneath the moor, mostly burrows dug by rabbits. The cats had begun to enlarge them to make dens, but some places weren’t yet safe. And being in the burrows never felt natural to Gray Wing. It was so dark and confining, he found it hard to breathe. Besides, if she goes too deep into the tunnels we might not be able to get her out.
To Gray Wing’s relief, Acorn Fur reappeared almost at once, thrust into the open again by another cat close behind her. As the cat emerged, Gray Wing saw it was her father, Jackdaw’s Cry. Shattered Ice stuck his head out behind the other two, an annoyed look on his face.
“Stay away from here,” Jackdaw’s Cry scolded Acorn Fur. “This tunnel isn’t safe yet. Shattered Ice and I are still digging it out.” He gave his daughter a sharp tap on the nose, his claws sheathed. “Aren’t you supposed to be having a hunting lesson with Gray Wing?”
“She is,” Gray Wing called down to him. “Thanks, Jackdaw’s Cry.”
The black tom gave Gray Wing a nod of acknowledgment before vanishing into the tunnel again with Shattered Ice.
Acorn Fur turned away, her tail drooping, and trudged back up the slope to the top of the hollow.
“Wow!” Lightning Tail exclaimed as she joined the others. “That was awesome! Now we know how to get our noses whacked.”
Acorn Fur glared at him, but didn’t reply.
“I think you should show us again,” her brother teased her. “I’m not sure I could get it right.”
“Really? Then this is how you get your nose whacked, flea-brain!” Acorn Fur hissed, swiping her paw across her brother’s nose.
Lightning Tail leaped back. “Hey, that hurt!”
“That’s enough,” Gray Wing meowed, getting between the littermates before a fight could develop. “We’re supposed to be hunting, remember?”
To his relief the kits began to settle down, scuffling about until they found comfortable spots to sit. They looked up at him with wide eyes.
Gray Wing glanced around for something to help the young kits learn. He noticed movement underneath a gorse bush; a rabbit moved a little way into the open, nibbling at the grass.
“Look over there,” he told the kits, pointing with his tail, “but don’t move. See the rabbit? I’m going to catch it.”
The kits nodded, with sparkling eyes and impatiently twitching tail-tips.
“First,” Gray Wing went on, “I’m going to let it come away from the bush a bit. It’s likely that the entrance to its burrow is hidden there somewhere. And when I’m chasing it, I’m going to keep a careful eye on it so I can guess which way it’s going to run.”
While he had been speaking, the rabbit had moved even farther into the open. Gray Wing watched carefully, waiting for just the right moment. Then, in a spurt of energy, he took off after it, reveling in the sensation of his muscles stretching and the breeze streaming through his pelt.
He was within a few tail-lengths of it before the rabbit realized he was there. It fled with a squeal of alarm, its white tail bobbing up and down. Gray Wing kept his gaze fixed on it, racing across to intercept the creature as it tried to double back toward the safety of the bush.
The rabbit’s paws skidded as it veered away again. But within a few strides Gray Wing had caught it, slamming his paws on its shoulders to thrust it to the ground, where he killed it with a bite to the throat. Satisfaction flooded through him.