Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

“Nettle stems. Pebble Heart says you have to chew them. They’ll help your body fight the infection in your wound.”

Quiet Rain pushed the stems away with a paw. “I thought that cat was a healer, not a poisoner.”

“He went out in the snow to collect them for you,” Thunder pressed. “The least you could do is eat them.”

Quiet Rain met his gaze. “If he’d brought them for you, would you eat them?”

Thunder looked doubtfully at the stems. “I’m not sick.”

Quiet Rain snorted, then coughed.

Thunder watched her body shake, helpless against the convulsions. “Just eat them!” he growled sternly. He wasn’t going to let her die. Not after she’d come so far.

Quiet Rain’s coughing eased, and she eyed him with interest. “I’ll eat one if you do.”

Thunder’s claws itched with exasperation. “Okay.” He leaned forward, snatched a stem, and began to chew it. Bitter juice burst onto his tongue and he fought the urge to gag.

Quiet Rain let out a throaty purr. “Not all that tasty, I see?”

“It’s your turn now.” Thunder wasn’t going to let her off. “Unless you’re scared of a bit of nettle.”

He saw spirit flash in the old cat’s cloudy gaze. She stretched her muzzle forward and grasped a stalk between her teeth. Chewing, she screwed up her eyes, and then she swallowed. “Do you eat a lot of nettles here?”

Thunder’s whiskers twitched. “Just because we live in a forest doesn’t mean we’re rabbits!” He nodded to the two remaining stems. “You might as well finish them now that you’ve got the taste in your mouth.”

Satisfaction warmed his pelt as she swallowed the stalks. “See?” he commented as she finished.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“Yes, it was,” she grunted. She closed her eyes, her face stiff as though fighting pain. When she opened them again, she let out a long, slow breath. “Let’s hope they work.”

Thunder sat down beside her nest and tucked his tail over his paws. “What you need is to get up and go hunting. All this lying around isn’t good for any cat,” he teased.

“If only I could.” Quiet Rain eyed him quizzically for a moment. “It’s hard to believe that Clear Sky’s your father. Even as a kit, he didn’t have much sense of fun. He was always too busy wishing he was somewhere else.”

“Is that why he left the mountains?” Thunder was surprised by his own curiosity. He didn’t want to be talking about Clear Sky, but he couldn’t help wondering what his father had been like as a kit.

“Yes.” Wistfulness clouded Quiet Rain’s gaze. “Jagged Peak was the same. But Gray Wing only left because I sent him away.”

“Why did you do that?” Thunder blinked at her.

“Jagged Peak left without permission. I thought he was too young for such a journey, so I sent

Gray Wing to take care of him.” She seemed to be staring far into the distance.

“And you knew they wouldn’t return.” Thunder felt a pang of sympathy for Quiet Rain. “You must have been worried.”

She shook her head. “I knew Gray Wing would protect Jagged Peak—that once he’d found him, he wouldn’t leave him. And I knew Jagged Peak would be too stubborn to turn back.”

“Why did you stay behind?”

“The mountains are my home,” Quiet Rain told him. “I was born there. And now that I’ve left them, I wish I hadn’t. This land may be green and prey-rich come greenleaf, but it only seems to make trouble. It set brother against brother. In the mountains we had so little; there was nothing to fight over.” Grief washed her gaze. “We would never have killed one another over land. I can’t believe Clear Sky murdered his Tribemate.”

Thunder felt a stab of sympathy for his father. “It wasn’t like that,” he argued. “He made a mistake. He was only trying to protect what was his.”

“He killed a cat who’d helped raise him!” Quiet Rain fought back a cough, her voice breaking.

“And he will never forgive himself.” Thunder realized that he was actually defending Clear Sky.

“He learned from his mistake and he’ll never let anything like that happen again.”

Quiet Rain watched him, her gaze curious. “You must love your father very much.”

Love him? Before Thunder could answer, he heard paw steps crunching outside. Opening his mouth, he tasted the scents of Clear Sky and Star Flower. Fur brushed against the bramble den.

“She doesn’t want to see me again.” Clear Sky’s whisper sounded through the wall.

“Don’t be mouse-brained,” Star Flower answered him sharply. “She’s your mother and she’s sick. I just wish I’d had a chance to talk to One Eye before he died. But I didn’t. You must make your peace with Quiet Rain before—”

“Before what?” Quiet Rain cut her off. Her old ears were as sharp as Thunder’s. “Who’s out there, planning my death?”

Star Flower padded through the entrance. She locked eyes with Quiet Rain, then slowly dipped her head. “I didn’t mean you were going to die. I just wanted Clear Sky to understand how important the time we have with our kin is.”

Quiet Rain’s gaze slipped past her toward the entrance. “Well, come in, Clear Sky.”

Thunder moved aside to let his father slide into the den.

Clear Sky crouched in front of his mother. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he murmured miserably.

Star Flower snorted. “She won’t if you whine like a kit.”

Quiet Rain’s whiskers twitched with amusement as she blinked at Star Flower. “Who are you?”

“I’m Clear Sky’s mate. My name is Star Flower.”

Quiet Rain’s gaze flicked between her and Thunder. “What do you two see in this fox-heart?” she asked, glancing at Clear Sky, who pressed his belly to the earth.

“Get up!” she snapped at him. “These two deserve better than a sniveling piece of prey.”

Clear Sky straightened. Thunder felt a wave of pity for his father. He had never seen him look so defeated. Suddenly, he realized where Clear Sky must have inherited his arrogance—and his cruelty.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Quiet Rain,” Star Flower murmured softly. “A lot has changed for him this past moon. He’s only recently learned that I’m carrying his kits.”

“You are?” Quiet Rain blinked, then turned to Thunder. “You’ll have siblings.”

Thunder’s mind whirled. Star Flower’s kits would be his kin. But I live in a different camp now.

He would never truly know them.

A mew interrupted his thoughts.

“Quiet Rain?” Gray Wing was outside the den. “May we come in?”

“Who’s we ?” Quiet Rain narrowed her eyes against the light as she peered toward the entrance.

“Me and Jagged Peak.”

“Very well.”

As Gray Wing and Jagged Peak filed in, Thunder shuffled closer to the edge of the den, the bramble wall jabbing at his cheek.

Gray Wing dipped his head to Quiet Rain. “How are you this morning?”

“I’ve been better,” Quiet Rain grunted. She looked at Gray Wing’s injured leg. He’d washed the blood from the fur, but a ring showed where the Twoleg trap had dug in. “How’s your leg?”

“Sore, but I can still hunt. I just caught a shrew in the forest.”

“ I caught a wren,” Jagged Peak chimed in. “I can get it for you if you’re hungry.”

Quiet Rain shuddered. “No.”

“But you must keep your strength up,” Gray Wing urged her. “If you don’t eat, you’ll never get well.”

Jagged Peak frowned at him. “Don’t nag her. She’s sick.”

Clear Sky nudged between them. “If she wants food, I’ll get it.”

“She doesn’t want food,” Jagged Peak snapped. “Haven’t you upset her enough already without bullying her now?”