Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

Needles sprayed as he landed. His paws slid clumsily, but he hooked the lizard’s tail with a foreclaw and darted ahead to give it a killing bite. It lay dead at his paws, and he sniffed its scales.

They were a strange texture, smooth and slimy, unlike the prey Gray Wing usually hunted. River Ripple eats them, he told himself as he lapped at the blood welling at the lizard’s neck. Its flesh might feel weird, but its blood tasted just like that of any other prey. Holly’s kits might have fun picking at it.

Gray Wing straightened. The tightness in his breathing, which had been bothering him all morning, hadn’t eased even when the sun’s gentle leaf-bare warmth had melted the dew from the forest. The fresh tang of pine seemed to tickle the inside of his chest, making him cough and wheeze. He remembered feeling much better in the fresh winds of the moor and, for a moment, felt a sudden longing for his old home that was like a blunt claw snagging at his belly fur.

You live here now, he told himself. As he bent to pick up the lizard between his teeth, pine needles swished behind him.

He tensed.

Fern?

He’d seen no sign of the half-tailed she-cat since they’d arrived in the forest nearly a half-moon ago. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t lurking among the unfamiliar scents and deep shadows of the pine forest.

He turned, unsheathing his claws.

“Hi, Gray Wing.” Pebble Heart padded toward him.

Gray Wing’s fur smoothed. “It’s you.”

Pebble Heart’s whiskers twitched teasingly. “Were you hoping I was Slate? She said she might visit today.”

“No.” Gray Wing shifted his paws, wishing that Slate were the only outsider who came here. He looked forward to seeing the dark gray she-cat from Wind Runner’s camp on the moor. She had visited the pine forest several times since they’d arrived, to see how the cats were settling into their new home; she’d offered advice where she could. It had been Slate who’d suggested they make their camp between two wide swaths of bramble near the heart of the forest.

“It’ll be easy to defend,” she’d told Tall Shadow.

Tall Shadow had looked surprised. “Against what?”

Slate had shrugged. “Dogs. Foxes. Twolegs. These woods are like any territory. You’ll need a safe heart in your new home.”

Tall Shadow had looked crestfallen, and Gray Wing had stepped forward. “Tall Shadow has been dreaming about this for a long time.” He caught Slate’s eye. Don’t spoil her happiness here.

But Tall Shadow had lifted her chin. “You’re right, Slate,” she meowed. “I’ve been foolish, trying to imagine that danger won’t find us here. Of course we should be prepared. Show us the brambles.

We’ll build a camp where our kits can play safely.”

They had built the camp, working hard for days among the prickly stems to shape the swaths into a fierce ring of thorns no intruder would dare penetrate. They’d threaded stems together, twining bush with bush until brambles encircled a wide, needle-strewn clearing.

Gray Wing could see it now, beyond Pebble Heart: a dark tangled mass, sheltering in the shadow of the pines.

“You’re wheezing.” Pebble Heart’s observation shook him from his thoughts.

“My breathing used to ease by sunhigh.” Gray Wing glanced ruefully at the sun glittering through the tops of the pines.

“Come back to the camp,” Pebble Heart ordered. “I’ve got some fresh coltsfoot.”

“You found some?” Gray Wing blinked with surprise as Pebble Heart began to head toward the brambles.

“It’s the last of the season, protected from frost beneath a holly bush.” Pebble Heart slowed to let

Gray Wing fall in beside him. “Next to the Thunderpath.”

“You went to the Thunderpath by yourself?” Gray Wing’s belly tightened. “You shouldn’t—”

Pebble Heart silenced him with a look. “I’m not a kit anymore. You don’t have to protect me all the time.”

Gray Wing hardly heard him. There was a pain in his chest, like countless thorns were piercing his insides. He stopped and tried to draw breath, but couldn’t.

“Gray Wing?” Pebble Heart turned sharply.

Panic whirled in Gray Wing’s mind. He sank onto his belly, stretching his neck as he gasped for breath. The world began to spin around him. Pine needles swished beside his ear, and he felt Pebble Heart’s paws pummeling his flank. He closed his eyes and tried to let go of the fear that gripped him.

I’ll be okay. Slowly he began to relax as Pebble Heart worked his way along his side, kneading his chest and then his back until Gray Wing’s breathing eased.

“Thank you,” Gray Wing rasped.

Pebble Heart turned to leave. “I’ll bring you some coltsfoot.”

“Wait!” Gray Wing heaved himself to his paws. “I can come with you.” He didn’t want to seem as helpless as prey.

“Your breathing’s been bad since we came here.” Pebble Heart gazed at him gravely. “I think you should eat coltsfoot each morning.”

“Do you have enough to spare?” A long leaf-bare stretched ahead. “What if another cat needs some?”

“I’ve picked plenty, and there are still some dried leaves back in the hollow.” Pebble Heart pressed his shoulder to Gray Wing’s. “Are you ready?”

Gray Wing nodded and padded forward, trying not to lean too heavily on the young tom. He’s taking care of me now. It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d rescued Pebble Heart and his littermates from Twolegplace. Yet it was hard to let go of the protectiveness he felt for Turtle Tail’s kit. Should he warn him about Fern? And about Slash, who’d sent her to spy? Not yet. There’d been no sign of Fern since they arrived; perhaps the rogue had never come to the pine forest. Gray Wing hoped that she had used her chance to escape Slash and run—far away from here.

“You go first.” Pebble Heart stopped in front of the bramble tunnel that led into camp.

Gray Wing ducked and padded through.

Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak sat near the far end of the clearing, their heads bowed in quiet conversation. Holly was rearranging her nest’s moss lining while the kits tumbled in the pine needles behind her. Mud Paws and Mouse Ear were sharing tongues in the shadow of the camp wall.

“Hi, Gray Wing!” Mouse Ear looked up. “Did you catch anything?”

My catch! He’d left it behind. “A lizard,” he croaked.

Mouse Ear hopped up and padded closer, stopping beside Gray Wing. “Can cats eat lizards?”

“River Ripple does,” Gray Wing told him.

Mouse Ear wrinkled his nose. “I guess we can’t be choosy.” He tasted the air. “Where is it?”

“I left it outside camp.”

Dew Nose turned from her game. “Can we go and get it?” She glanced excitedly at Eagle Feather and Storm Pelt.

Holly straightened. “Only if Mouse Ear goes with you.” She looked across the clearing to the tabby tom. “Is that okay?”

Mouse Ear purred. “Of course.” He swished his tail happily as the kits charged toward him.

“Which one of you is going to carry it back?”

“Me!” Dew Nose pelted for the bramble tunnel.

Eagle Feather was on her tail. “Not if I find it first.”

Mouse Ear waited for Storm Pelt to catch up. “While those two are racing around,” he whispered to the solemn young kit, “ we’ll find it, and you can carry it home.”

Storm Pelt’s whiskers twitched and he trotted toward the camp entrance.

“Don’t let them out of your sight!” Holly called.

Mouse Ear flicked his tail as he ducked into the tunnel. “I won’t.”

Pebble Heart was already at the far side of the clearing, squeezing beneath the brambles. He wriggled out a moment later, a soft green leaf hanging from his jaws.