Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

“I am their mother.”

Thunder searched for words. How could he tell this old she-cat that her sons now lived more as rivals than as littermates? Memories of the great battle crowded his mind.

“Well?” Quiet Rain stared at him expectantly.

“Gray Wing and Jagged Peak live on the far side of this forest with Tall Shadow,” he told her, thinking he could lead them to the pines. He wasn’t eager to return to his father’s camp yet, so he did not mention Clear Sky. “I can take you to see them.”

Quiet Rain struggled to her paws, her eyes glistening. “Are they well?”

“Yes.”

“What about my father?” Sun Shadow leaned forward eagerly.

Thunder avoided the tom’s gaze. “Tall Shadow knows more than me,” he mumbled. “She can tell you everything when you reach her camp.”

“We must leave!” Quiet Rain stepped over the half-eaten sparrow, her paws trembling.

Sun Shadow glanced at her anxiously. “You should rest for a while first.”

Thunder nodded. “It’s a long trek,” he told her. “Finish your meal. We can go when you’ve got your strength back.”

Thunder watched Quiet Rain return to her meal. Worry jabbed his chest. Each bite seemed to pain her. Her ears flattened as she chewed, and she winced with each swallow. Was she strong enough to make the journey? The pines were beyond the Thunderpath.

Doubt gnawed at him. Perhaps I should take them back to my camp? He nudged Sun Shadow aside. “I think Quiet Rain’s wounds need treating before we leave,” he hissed. Cloud Spots would know what to do.

“She won’t wait for that,” Sun Shadow whispered back. “Not now that she knows her sons are near.”

“But she’s so weak.”

“She made the journey from the mountains, didn’t she? It can’t be much farther to the pine forest.”

Quiet Rain jerked up her muzzle. “What are you two whispering about?”

Thunder met her gaze. “You should come back to my camp to rest, and let Cloud Spots help you.”

He hoped the mention of her old friend from the mountains might convince her, but Quiet Rain only paused for a moment, then returned to her meal.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” she mewed, having clearly said all that she wanted to on the matter.

Thunder exchanged looks with Sun Shadow.

“Don’t bother arguing,” the black tom murmured. “Once Quiet Rain has made up her mind, it stays made up.”

Thunder gazed between the trees. He was a short run from the ravine. He should at least warn his campmates that he was heading for Tall Shadow’s territory. They’d worry if he was late returning to camp. He dipped his head to Sun Shadow. “I must tell the others that I’m leaving.”

Distrust sharpened the tom’s gaze.

“It’s okay,” Thunder reassured him. “I’ll come back.”

“Alone?” Sun Shadow narrowed his eyes.

“Alone,” he promised. The long journey had clearly left these cats wary. Who knew what cruelty they’d witnessed? “My campmates are busy hunting.” Thunder kept his mew reassuringly light. “I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving the mountain cats crouched at the foot of the beech, he bounded between the trees. His paws thrummed over the frozen earth as he headed for the ravine. Cutting between brambles and leaping fallen trees, he raced until his chest hurt, only slowing as the slope steepened toward the camp.

“Thunder?” Milkweed’s call surprised him before he reached the top.

He slowed to a halt, scanning the thick undergrowth until he caught sight of her ginger-and-black pelt. She stared at him from a patch of wood sorrel, its leaves closed against the cold. “Are you hunting?” Thunder asked.

Milkweed rolled her eyes. “No,” she mewed sarcastically. “I just felt like a stroll.”

Thunder’s whiskers twitched. Now that her kits had a safe den and she could hunt once more, Milkweed showed as much spirit as any cat. The hunger she’d suffered still showed in her thin frame, but her eyes were bright and her cough had cleared. “Have you caught anything yet?” he asked.

“I buried a mouse back near the brambles.” She nodded over her shoulder. “I’ll dig it up on the way back to camp. What about you?” Her nose twitched curiously and she stiffened. “You smell strange.”

Thunder whisked his tail. “I found two cats from the mountains,” he told her. “They’re looking for their kin.”

Milkweed tipped her head. “Their kin ?”

“Gray Wing, Jagged Peak, and Tall Shadow.” He didn’t mention his father’s name. He didn’t want to explain why he was taking them all the way to the pines. “I promised to show them the way.”

“But why?” Milkweed blinked. “You have your own cats to look after now.”

“These cats are starving and one of them is sick,” he told her. “They need my help.”

Milkweed gazed at him softly, nodding once. “Of course.”

“Can the group spare me?” He glanced at the sky. The sun was climbing. It would be dusk before he returned.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be back by tonight,” Thunder promised.

“I guess we can hunt without you,” Milkweed told him.

Thunder shifted his paws guiltily. “I have to go.”

“It’s okay.” Milkweed padded from the sorrel. “We followed you because we trusted you to do the right thing. And if you are helping these mountain cats, it must be the right thing.”

Gratitude flooded beneath Thunder’s pelt. He gazed warmly at the mottled queen. “Thank you.”

“You’d better get back to them,” Milkweed prompted. “It sounds like they need you.”

As Thunder turned, she called after him. “If you find any prey on your travels, bring it back to camp.”

“I will!” Thunder whisked his tail as he headed back to Sun Shadow and Quiet Rain.

They were waiting for him, eyes bright with hope. Sun Shadow paced in front of the beech while

Quiet Rain peered from the hollow trunk.

He could hear her rasping breath as he neared. “We’ll skirt the edge of the forest and cross the moor,” he told them as he stopped beside Sun Shadow. A journey through the forest would be too arduous for such weakened cats—leaping gullies and fallen trees would exhaust them.

And we might meet Clear Sky.

He pushed the thought away. “Follow me.”

He headed for the river, leading them out from the shelter of the trees and onto the sandy shore.

The sun glittered on the water as a freezing wind whisked over it. Thunder felt it through his thick fur. He glanced at Quiet Rain and Sun Shadow. They padded side by side, keeping their paws clear of the water. “Are you cold?” he asked.

Quiet Rain caught his eye. “Cold? In this wind?” She snorted. “We come from the mountains, remember?”

“Of course.” Thunder’s whiskers twitched. Quiet Rain might walk with a limp and need to stop to cough every now and then, but there was nothing wrong with her tongue.

They walked in silence as the sun crossed the sky, the sand turning to pebbles beneath Thunder’s paws. He tensed when he caught the scent of Clear Sky’s markers, tainting the breeze. They were passing his father’s territory. He glanced nervously into the forest, searching for movement among the trees. A blackbird chittered in the branches, but there was no sign of a patrol. Thunder was suddenly thankful that Clear Sky kept his cats confined to camp. He quickened his pace. He could see where the forest ended and the river bent toward the gorge. They could leave the shore and forest behind and head straight onto the moor.