Erin Hunter - The First Battle

How could this have happened? They’d gone to reach an agreement. Instead they faced battle. How could his father have betrayed his own brother? How could he have betrayed me ? Rage burned beneath Thunder’s pelt. He growled as he pelted through the darkness. You’ll pay for this, Clear Sky. With blood.

Never follow stale air.

The words carried back to him from his kithood, when Gray Wing had begun to teach him the tunnels beneath the moor.

Distant yowls echoed along the tunnel behind.

“You moor cats aren’t cats! You’re worms!”

“Come out and fight, you mouseheart!”

Snake and Petal were calling into the darkness. At least they hadn’t followed.

Thunder picked up his pace, ignoring the musty, cold air of the tunnel, and the endless ache in his paws. He had to get back to camp. There was no turning back.

His heart lurched, as the ground sloped down steeply beneath his paws. Only follow a downward slope if you can retrace your steps.

“Sorry, Gray Wing,” Thunder muttered under his breath. There was no way he could follow the older cat’s advice now.

“We’ll guard the entrance.” Snake’s growl echoed along tunnel behind. “If he comes back out, we’ll get him!”

Thunder swallowed, hoping he was heading in the right direction. The camp must be this way. The tunnel hadn’t curved since he entered it. His forepaws slipped as the slope suddenly sharpened. What if it just keeps going deeper? No. It can’t, he told himself. It must lead somewhere. As he calmed himself, the slope flattened and began to widen. Hope sparked in his chest. He slowed to a trot. The tunnel was straighter than crow-flight. It’ll take me to the camp. As he began to imagine bursting out beside the hollow, the air changed.

Thunder halted. Damp scents bathed his tongue. Blind in the darkness, Thunder reached forward with his muzzle. His nose touched earth. A dead end? It couldn’t be. The damp smell must be coming from somewhere. And there was only stale air behind. He reached forward with one forepaw. It flapped in thin air. So did his other. He frowned, puzzled. His nose touched earth, yet each paw reached into empty space. The tunnel must split into two! Which way do I choose? Heart pounding, Thunder sniffed first this way, then that.

One tunnel smelled dry and musty, the other damp and fresh.

Could it be dew? If he could smell dew, there must be grass and sky and air. Thunder headed along the damp tunnel. His paws pattered over mud. Hope flashed fresh with every paw step. The trail must start to rise soon.

His whiskers brushed close to earth on one side. The tunnel was curving. Was it leading away from camp? He followed the bend, anxiety curling in his belly. Have I gone the wrong way? The curve tightened. Thunder slowed. Should I go back? Uncertainty weighted his paws. Gray Wing’s depending on me. Suddenly the tunnel turned back on itself. Now where? Disoriented, Thunder pressed on.

He could picture Gray Wing, Jackdaw’s Cry, and Tall Shadow on the rock. What if Clear Sky’s cats attacked? If enough of them climbed the ledge together, they might be able to push the moor cats back and overrun their sanctuary. Breath quickening, Thunder broke into a run, pulling up again as he felt the tunnel narrow around him. Within paw steps, it was pressing on his spine, then his flanks, until he was hauling himself through a narrow gap, earth dragging against his belly.

I should have taken the other tunnel. Fear crawled beneath his pelt. But the damp fresh scent of dew still bathed his muzzle. This tunnel must lead out onto the moor. Once he was in the open, he would be able to find his way back to camp. He dragged himself forward, relief flooding his fur as the space opened out, feeling like a great weight being lifted off his back.

He scrambled to his paws and raced onward, mouth open, hoping to smell a familiar scent. Had he been in this tunnel before?

Gray Wing’s mew sounded in his ears. Jackdaw’s Cry knows these tunnels as well as he knows the rabbit runs through the heather. You must learn them too. Who knows when you’ll need their shelter?

If only he hadn’t spent so much time in the forest with Clear Sky. Bitterness caught in his throat. I could have been learning these routes. I might have made it back to the camp by now.

Whiskers twitching as he felt for open space ahead, he hurried through the blackness. His heart lifted as light showed ahead. How? The tunnel hadn’t sloped upward. He couldn’t be near the surface. He hurried toward the brightness, realizing as he neared that moonlight was seeping through a deep crack in the earth. The scent of grass, rich with predawn dew, washed over him. He scowled with disappointment and halted, straining to see ahead.

A scuffling sound made him stiffen. Fur was brushing the earth. Thunder’s belly tightened as a familiar stench touched his nose.

Badger!

He backed away. Had he stumbled into a set? Heavy paws scuffed the ground in the shadows farther down the tunnel. Thunder’s pelt lifted as eyes glinted in the muted moonlight streaming from the crack. He could make out the white stripes of a badger face.

A growl rumbled toward him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

Claws scraped the earth as the badger lunged. Fighting panic, Thunder turned and raced back along the tunnel. As it narrowed around him, he dived forward, reaching out with his forepaws to haul himself through. Behind, he felt hot breath on his tail and heard jaws snap, an angry snarl following him as he dragged himself forward.

Heart thrumming against the earth, he heard heavy paws scraping the earth behind. The badger was too big to fit through.

Unsheathing his claws, Thunder heaved himself through the narrowest part of the tunnel, gasping for breath as he scrambled out the other side.

He stopped and pricked his ears. Trembling like prey, he listened as the badger snorted before lumbering away. Thunder’s thoughts began to race. Petal and Snake were at the entrance. A badger blocked this way. There was only one way to go.

He raced back to the split and headed down the other tunnel. Please let it lead to the camp! Ignoring the stale air, he raced through the darkness, fur bristling as he braced every moment to hurtle headlong into a dead end. But the tunnel seemed to open before him like a fern leaf unfurling. It twisted this way and that, but a deep sense in his belly told Thunder that it had to be heading for the hollow. As the ground began to slope up beneath his paws, sharp night air touched his nose. There must be an opening ahead. He kept running until he saw moonlight. He raced for it, bursting out onto grass.

A cool breeze ruffled his fur and he breathed it deep into his chest. Relief washed his pelt. Above, the clouds had cleared and the moon shone, full and bright. He gazed around, searching for familiar markers. The hillside was dappled with heather, gorse, and grass so that it looked like a tortoiseshell’s pelt in the moonlight. But Thunder could still recognize the dark shadow that betrayed the dip where the camp nestled. The hollow! He raced toward it, crossing a swath of grass and plunging through heather. He zigzagged along a rabbit trail and burst out the other side. With a rush of excitement he recognized the heather wall of the camp.

He raced for it and leaped through the gap, skidding to a halt in the clearing.