Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

Holly’s eyes flashed with rage. “Perhaps that’s why your sons left.”

Quiet Rain glared back. “How dare you?”

Jagged Peak stepped between them. “My kits are lively,” he told her. “But they have good hearts and will make fine hunters one day.”

Quiet Rain ignored him and turned to Thunder. “I wish to see my other sons,” she meowed.

“Where is Clear Sky?”

Thunder dropped his gaze. “He’s in the forest.”

Quiet Rain’s eyes widened. “We found you in the forest. Why did you bring us all the way here?”

“I will take you to him when you’re stronger,” he mumbled.

Quiet Rain jerked her gaze to Tall Shadow. “And what about Gray Wing?”

“I told you,” Tall Shadow meowed irritably. “We haven’t seen him for days.”

“If Gray Wing is missing,” Quiet Rain growled, “you must find him. I came here to see my kin.”

Thunder saw Tall Shadow staring at the she-cat. Please don’t fight, he willed them both. Quiet Rain is just a concerned mother, that’s all. The mountain cat was also tired and hungry, and carrying a wound that looked painful.

And there was still more grief for the old cat to face.

Tall Shadow seemed to come to the same conclusion as Thunder. She turned to face him.

“Find Gray Wing, please.”

Wind tugged Gray Wing’s fur. Clouds, heavy with snow, were pushing over Highstones, yellowing the pale blue sky. They’d reach the moor by nightfall.

A shrew dangled by its thin tail from Gray Wing’s jaws. Ahead of him, Gorse Fur ducked into the heather, Minnow just behind him. Gorse Fur had only a vole. Minnow’s lapwing had been half-dead from hunger when she caught it. There wouldn’t be much flesh on its bones.

Gray Wing wondered whether to stay out longer. If snow was coming, the prey pile should be high. But what was the point? They’d hunted half the day for this meager catch.

Gray Wing followed the others along the sheltered trail that led to Wind Runner’s camp. He’d hoped to bring back a rabbit, but the rabbits were hidden deep in their burrows. They must have smelled the snow before he did.

Mews sounded along the heather tunnel.

“Gorse Fur!”

“Minnow!”

Gray Wing glimpsed Dust Muzzle pushing alongside Gorse Fur.

“Can I carry your vole?” the young tom begged.

“What did you catch?” Moth Flight stopped in front of Gray Wing. The excitement in her gaze faded as she spotted the shrew. “No rabbits?”

Gray Wing shook his head sadly and nudged her along the trail until they popped out into the sheltered clearing.

Wind Runner was pacing the far end, her gaze flicking toward the thickening clouds.

Reed stood near her, sniffing Slate’s injured ear. The fox bite had healed quickly in the days since the attack, but Reed was still careful to keep checking for any sign of sourness in the wound.

Gray Wing dropped his shrew. “Is Slate okay?” he called to the silver tabby.

“Her ear will be fully healed in another quarter moon,” Reed answered.

Slate ducked away from him. “I wish the fox had torn out a lump of fur instead.” She shook out her pelt irritably. “At least fur grows back.”

“Gray Wing, can I put your shrew on the prey pile?” Moth Flight’s mew snapped him from his thoughts.

“Yes.” He glanced at the empty patch of grass. Dust Muzzle was already dragging Gorse Fur’s vole toward it. Minnow padded past him and dropped her scrawny lapwing. Moth Flight grabbed Gray Wing’s shrew and raced over to place it on top.

Gray Wing was glad he could help the moor cats hunt. But he felt guilt pricking his belly. Surely his campmates in the pine forest needed help too?

Gray Wing’s not as fast as he used to be. Jagged Peak’s words rang in his ears, and once more he remembered his argument with his brother and Tall Shadow.

You’ve been giving orders since you came back to camp! Did Tall Shadow really believe that?

Perhaps he should return to clear the air. And yet it still rankled that he’d been accused of being weak and of trying to take over as leader. Make up your minds! Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak seemed ready to criticize everything he did. Here on the moor, he was accepted as he was. Wind Runner was grateful for the prey that he caught. Slate seemed to enjoy his company, settling down beside him each night so they could talk before they slept and shared their warmth. And, away from the dampness of the forest, his breathing had eased. He felt as though the wind had reached deep into every part of him: he could run faster, breathe more deeply, and sleep more soundly.

Pebble Heart would be worried about him, though. Now that Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes had moved to Clear Sky’s camp, the young tom must feel alone. And I miss him. Gray Wing’s chest tightened as he remembered Pebble Heart’s soft, solemn gaze.

I should go home.

Slate crossed the clearing toward him. Her thick gray fur rippled as she walked.

Maybe tomorrow.

“Was that all there was?” Slate nodded toward the prey pile.

Gray Wing met her gaze apologetically. “We were lucky to find that. Snow’s coming, and most of the prey has taken to its nests.”

Slate sighed. “Just when we need it most.”

“I’ll go out again later,” Gray Wing offered.

“I’ll come with you.”

“We could try the tunnels.” Gray Wing hadn’t ventured underground yet. He’d never shared Acorn

Fur’s love of hunting in the dark. But they might unearth a rabbit’s nest.

Slate’s eyes glittered with unease. “I’ve never hunted underground.”

“We won’t go deep,” Gray Wing promised. His gaze snagged the scoop in her ear where the fox had ripped off the tip. A dark scab edged it.

Slate dropped her gaze. “How bad is it?”

“You look a bit like an owl,” Gray Wing teased.

Slate lifted her muzzle sharply. “At least I can still hear.” She stared pointedly at Gray Wing’s ears. “It’s a wonder you hear anything at all. You have so much fluff in your ears, I’m surprised mice don’t make nests in them.”

Gray Wing nudged her playfully and she began to purr.

“Wind Runner!” Dust Muzzle’s anxious mew sounded across the clearing. “I can hear paw steps.”

Reed tasted the air, his muzzle high. “A forest cat’s heading this way.”

Fur bristled along Gorse Fur’s spine. Wind Runner padded cautiously toward the camp entrance.

Minnow dropped into a defensive crouch. “Can you tell who it is?”

Gray Wing opened his mouth and let the breeze bathe his tongue. He recognized the scent at once.

“It’s Thunder.”

Wind Runner pricked her ears. “What’s he doing on the moor?”

Gorse Fur narrowed his eyes. “I thought I smelled his scent while we were out hunting.”

Minnow nodded. “Me too. Near the four trees. And I smelled more than one cat.”

Wind Runner blinked at the gray-and-white she-cat. “Rogues?”

Minnow shrugged. “They smelled strange.”

The heather shivered as paw steps headed along the tunnel. Thunder poked his head into the camp.

“May I come in?” He glanced at Wind Runner.

Wind Runner dipped her head. “You are welcome.”

Thunder slid out from the heather, his orange-and-white pelt bright against gray leaf-bare branches. “Gray Wing! You’re here !” His eyes lit up. “I’ve been tracking your scent.”

Gray Wing tipped his head. “Why?” Surely his own campmates should have been hunting for him, rather than Thunder.