Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

“I got here first!” Thistle mewed.

“But I’m closest.” Clover had stopped a whisker away from the mouse that Sparrow Fur had knocked from the pile. She snatched it in her jaws and began to drag it back toward Milkweed.

Thistle growled. “That’s not fair.”

“Don’t you like mouse?” Star Flower asked, her eyes shining.

“Yes, but I want—”

Star Flower didn’t let him finish. “Then go and help your sister carry it back to Milkweed.”

The mouse had snagged on a jutting root at the edge of the clearing. Clover was tugging at it, her face crumpled with effort.

Thistle hurried toward her and, grabbing the mouse’s tail in his teeth, unhooked it from the root.

Clover blinked at him gratefully and they headed back to Milkweed, carrying the mouse between them.

As Star Flower sat back on her haunches and watched them go, Clear Sky narrowed his eyes.

Thunder was watching the golden she-cat from beneath the oak. There was a glow in the young tom’s gaze. Was I wrong to let him bring her back to camp? Clear Sky shifted his paws uneasily. The other cats had accepted her, but they still eyed her with mistrust.

On the night of her arrival, Leaf and Lightning Tail had followed Clear Sky out of camp and questioned his judgment.

“She’s a traitor,” Leaf had growled.

Lightning Tail had paced, frowning. “She lied to Thunder last time. She’ll do it again.”

Clear Sky had met their gazes steadily. “Thunder’s no fool,” he told them. “And what would she lie about? There’s no cat left for her to betray us to. One Eye is dead. She has no one else. Would you have left her to fend for herself all leaf-bare?”

“Yes.” Lightning Tail had kicked at the fallen leaves with a forepaw.

“Don’t you think I have a reason for taking her in?” Clear Sky had argued. “Having her close means we can keep an eye on her. That way, if she is our enemy, we’ll know it before she can harm us.”

Leaf had tipped his head thoughtfully. “I guess.”

Lightning Tail had curled his lip. “I’m watching her every move. Especially around Thunder.”

Clear Sky’s thoughts flicked back to the present. Do they trust her yet? Star Flower had shown nothing but loyalty so far. She’d hunted well, and had taken a damp nest among the beech roots without complaint. Lightning Tail had kept his word, watching her like a hawk and barging into any conversation she had with Thunder. But now Lightning Tail was out hunting, and Thunder was gazing wistfully at the golden she-cat. He still cares for her. Clear Sky moved on his branch as Star Flower stretched out her forepaws languorously, arching her back until her hind legs trembled. She knows Thunder’s watching her. Clear Sky saw her gaze flick over her shoulder for a heartbeat before she picked a mouse from the prey pile and padded toward the yew.

Thunder turned hurriedly and began washing his tail as she passed.

I should have a talk with him, Clear Sky thought. He’s young. Feelings may cloud his judgment.

He got to his paws. I’ll do it later. He knew that he’d need to pick the right moment if he wanted Thunder to listen to his warning.

Right now, he planned to patrol the borders of the forest. He wanted to find out whether any of the cats from the moor, pine forest, or river were hunting close to his scent lines. Hunger will drive them to my prey-rich woods eventually, and we’ll be together, just like Fluttering Bird wants.

The bright skies had brought a fresh chill to the forest. He stepped toward the trunk and, scrabbling down from branch to branch, leaped down into the clearing. He tasted the air, wondering whether the fine weather would be warmed by rain or hardened by snow. The wind, tainted by the must of decaying leaf litter, gave no clue.

He padded around the edge of the clearing, nodding to Milkweed as he passed. Star Flower had settled beside the black-and-ginger queen and was sharing her mouse with Thistle, while Clover snatched bites from her mother’s. Milkweed glanced up at Clear Sky, her eyes round with silent thanks. Her kits were sleeker already, though they’d only been here a few days. They would grow into good hunters.

Clear Sky dipped his head. “Would you like to join the next hunting party?” She might feel easier about taking prey if she’d helped hunt it.

Milkweed blinked eagerly. “Yes, please!”

“Can I go too?” Thistle looked up from his mouse.

“Not yet,” Clear Sky told him. “But you can practice some moves in camp.” He glanced at Birch and Alder. Acorn Fur had rolled onto her side and was sleeping. The two young cats were pacing restlessly behind her, clearly looking for something to do. “Would you like to teach Thistle and Clover some hunting moves?” Clear Sky called.

Alder hurried over. “That would be great!”

Thistle sat up excitedly and licked his lips. “Can we start now?”

“Why not?” As Alder led Thistle toward the center of the clearing, Clear Sky headed for the bramble. He paused beside Pink Eyes and Quick Water, who were still chewing on the starling. “I’m going to check the borders,” he meowed. “Keep watch on the camp.”

Pink Eyes sniffed. “You should choose a cat with better eyesight.”

Quick Water nudged the old tom. “No cat hears or smells better than you.”

“I trust you won’t miss anything.” Clear Sky dipped his head.

Quick Water eyed him curiously. “Why are you patrolling the borders?” she asked. “I thought you welcomed strangers now.”

“I still like to know who’s coming and going,” Clear Sky told her. He padded to the bramble wall and ducked through the gap between the branches.

Outside was cold. An icy wind whisked between the trees. No prey stirred, and he guessed that the tiny creatures of the forest were tucked deep in their warm burrows. Perhaps he should send out a hunting patrol at night as well as in the day. Mice and voles ventured out when the moon was high, but so did the owls and foxes that preyed on them. And the air would be too cold to scent anything but ice.

He followed the trail to the gully. One good rainfall and the narrow channel in the forest floor would be brimming with water, but for now it was dry. He hopped into it and headed toward the great sycamore.

He paused suddenly, the fur along his spine pricking as though it felt some creature’s gaze. Was he being followed? He stopped and listened for paw steps. A blackbird shrilled overhead. Far away on the moor, a dog barked. He opened his mouth to taste the air—Lightning Tail and Blossom had passed this way, their stale scent carried away by the breeze rippling over him, heavy with the scent of the pine forest, but nothing else.

Clear Sky shook out his fur and picked his way farther along the gully, telling himself that he was just being jumpy.

As the woods rose to one side, he hopped out of the gully and began to climb the slope toward the sycamore. As he neared the top, a fresh scent touched his nose; not all prey was in its burrow. The thick layer of leaf litter beneath the sycamore, crawling with tasty bugs, must have tempted something from its shelter. He opened his mouth and tasted the musky scent of a vole.

Stiffening, he dropped into a hunting crouch and drew himself forward, one paw step at a time, toward the crest of the slope. As the earth flattened, he scanned the forest floor. The ancient roots of the sycamore snaked into the ground. Movement flickered beside one of the gnarled stems. Clear Sky froze. The vole was snuffling at a seed pod, its tiny ears twitching.

He fixed his gaze on it, forcing his tail to stay still as he crept forward. His heart quickened as he closed in. The vole had picked up the seed pod and was nibbling at one side. Three tail-lengths from it, Clear Sky narrowed his eyes, judging his leap. If he pushed hard enough, he could land square on the vole and pin it against the sycamore root. His fur rippled along his spine. Bunching his legs beneath him, he waggled his hindquarters. Then he leaped.