Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

Acorn Fur shifted her paws uneasily. “But she doesn’t know how to hunt in a forest yet.”

“And she never will if you don’t let her practice.” Clear Sky nodded to Sparrow Fur. “Off you go! Catch something for the other cats.”

Sparrow Fur’s eyes lit up. “Great!” She turned and headed past the bramble.

“Wait! You don’t know what’s out there.” Acorn Fur beckoned to Owl Eyes with a flick of her tail. “We’ll come with you!”

Owl Eyes was still staring at the dead mouse. “Should I pounce first?”

“Leave the mouse.” Acorn Fur’s pelt pricked. “We’ll collect it on the way back.”

Thunder saw the reproachful glance she flashed Clear Sky as she passed and gave her a sympathetic shrug.

Clear Sky didn’t seem to notice. He was gazing between the trees, narrowing his eyes.

“Someone’s coming.”

Thunder pricked his ears as Acorn Fur herded Owl Eyes and Sparrow Fur past the bramble and into a swath of bracken. Paws were pounding over the forest floor toward them. He tasted the air.

Lightning Tail!

His friend burst from under a low jutting branch and skidded to a halt on the wet leaves. “Where’s Acorn Fur?”

“She just left.”

“Is she still training Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes? I promised I’d help.” Lightning Tail glanced around. “Which way did she go?”

Clear Sky snorted. “Through the bracken. Can’t you smell her?”

“All I can smell is wet leaves,” Lightning Tail meowed. “How do you ever sniff out prey around here? I can hardly taste my own tail when I wash.”

“You’ll learn how,” Thunder promised. He was only just getting used to it himself. He’d lived in the forest before but had forgotten all he’d learned after moons on the moor. There, the wind had carried only fresh scents. Here, smells gathered and mingled, catching on bushes and lingering on tree trunks. The whole forest tasted musty with decay.

Lightning Tail nodded to Thunder. “Do you want to join us?”

“No, thanks.” Thunder stared through the trees, wondering what was beyond the steep rise sloping up toward a thickly brambled crest. “I thought I’d explore my new home.” He flicked his tail toward Clear Sky. “Do you want to come with me?”

Clear Sky jerked around. “Come with you?”

“I thought you might want to keep me company.”

Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. “Are you planning to show me around my own territory?”

Thunder tipped his head, suddenly uneasy. “That’s not what I meant. I just wondered if you wanted to come along—”

Clear Sky cut him off. “It’s time I patrolled my borders.” He lifted his tail. “Perhaps you’d like to keep me company.”

Thunder’s pelt itched with frustration. Why did Clear Sky have to make everything a battle? He is the leader, he reminded himself. Let him lead. He dipped his head. “I’d be honored.”

Clear Sky marched from the clearing. Thunder followed.

Lightning Tail leaned forward as Thunder brushed past. “Does he argue about everything?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Thunder hissed back.

Clear Sky could be obstinate. But they knew that already. Thunder just wished that he were better at guessing what was going to make Clear Sky’s hackles rise. Dealing with his father was like picking his way through a briar patch—he never knew when he would step on a thorn.

Lightning Tail nosed Thunder’s flank. “You’ve got more patience than me.”

If only that were true. “See you later, Lightning Tail.” Thunder hurried on, weaving through a crowd of slender birch trees, following Clear Sky between the trunks. Water chattered beyond. They were heading for a stream. By the time Thunder caught up, Clear Sky had leaped the brook and was crouching at the far side. Thunder stopped at the edge and watched as Clear Sky leaned down the steep bank and began to lap at the water.

The stream had been empty until the snow had melted; now it washed his paw tips and glittered beneath the bare branches as it snaked away between the trees. Thunder bent low and drank too. It was more refreshing than what he found on the moor, where the streams were sluggish, the peaty earth making the water taste like smoke.

He lifted his head, his chin dripping, seeing that Clear Sky was now pacing the far bank. “Are you ready?” his father asked.

After Thunder jumped the stream, Clear Sky nodded toward a gully that cut through the forest.

“There’s a huge oak along there. Beyond it, the forest stretches to Twolegplace.”

“Show me.” Thunder waited for Clear Sky to take the lead, then fell in behind him.

He followed his father over a rise, then hopped after him into the gully. It rose steeply on either side, muddy from the recent rain. Slippery roots snaked beneath Thunder’s paws. Clear Sky moved easily between them, his pale gray pelt no more than a shadow in the gloom. Thunder was aware that his own orange pelt glowed. His paws slithered. He stumbled over a root, landing awkwardly as another tripped him. He was used to the wide smooth expanses of the moor. Even the rabbit trails between the heather were well worn and easy to navigate. The uneven path here unbalanced him, and he found himself concentrating so hard on where to put his paws that he didn’t see the bramble stem hanging across the trail. It snagged his ear and he gasped with pain.

Clear Sky paused and turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Just a bramble.” Thunder glanced at the land rising beside them. The earth looked smoother up there. And there were no brambles. Why did Clear Sky insist on picking his way along this treacherous gully?

“Can’t you go any faster?” Clear Sky called.

“I’m doing my best!” Irritation flashed beneath his pelt. He’s doing this on purpose. His father clearly wanted to show how easily he moved through his terrain.

Clear Sky quickened his pace over the root-tangled trail.

I’m not playing your game. Thunder leaped up the steep bank of the gully and climbed the smooth slope. Shadowing Clear Sky’s route, he kept to higher ground. A swath of bracken crossed his path and he pushed his way in, relishing the tug of the scratchy stalks as they scraped his pelt.

Clear Sky was waiting at the other side. “You’re supposed to be following me.” He stood on the slope, his blue eyes cold.

“I was, but I kept stubbing my paws.”

“You’ve clearly forgotten how to move through a forest.”

Thunder ignored his father’s condescending tone, pointedly glancing up the slope. A huge tree towered at the top, stretching high above the canopy. “Is that the oak you were talking about?”

“Yes.” Clear Sky swished his tail and bounded toward it.

Thunder leaped after him. Clear Sky dug his paws in harder to keep himself in the lead. As they neared the top of the rise, red fur flashed across ahead of them.

Clear Sky slowed to a halt, every hair on his pelt bristling.

Thunder smelled his father’s fear-scent and stopped. Alarm shrilled through his tail. He unsheathed his claws as leaves swirled in their path. Was it a fox?

Tiny paws skittered over the forest floor, and a red squirrel leaped from the ground and scooted up the oak trunk.

Thunder rolled his eyes. “I thought it was a fox !”

Clear Sky’s pelt was still bushed. “Don’t be dumb!” he snapped.

Thunder glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye. Then why did you look so scared?

Clear Sky snorted. “Stop looking at me and watch where you put your paws. I don’t want you stubbing them again.” Lashing his tail, he marched past the oak.

Thunder followed, glancing up as the squirrel disappeared between the crisscrossing branches.