Erin Hunter - The First Battle

She glanced back at him, her gaze growing pale. “Return to the four trees next full moon,” she told him. “Be ready.”

Clear Sky swallowed. For what?

A breeze swept through the hollow and, like mist, the spirit-cats disappeared.

Clear Sky drew in a deep breath, the tang of blood bathing his tongue once more. He blinked at the dead bodies, lying as still as stones, in the clearing. The wind ruffled his fur as it strengthened, and he wrinkled his nose as he smelled rain. The cloud that had covered the moon was thickening, rolling in from the moor.

As the first drop of rain touched his pelt, he watched Gray Wing weave his way between the bodies. Tall Shadow followed him, her tail drooping as her gaze slid mournfully over her fallen camp mates.

Uncertainty suddenly pricked in Clear Sky’s paws. “What did we just see?” he called.

Gray Wing turned to look at him. “I’m… not sure.”

Rain began to thrum the hard earth.

River Ripple padded to the great rock and settled in its shadow, flattening his ears against the squall. “Did the dead walk among you in the mountains?”

Tall Shadow shook her head. “Stoneteller shared with our ancestors. We never saw them.”

“Perhaps you never needed to,” River Ripple murmured.

“Because you never died like this before.” Thunder padded heavily to Hawk Swoop’s body and, nudging it with his nose, moved her so that she looked as though she were curled asleep. Gently, he lifted her tail and draped it over her muzzle. Then he settled beside her and, as the rain drenched his pelt, pressed his flank to hers.

“What do we do now?” Clear Sky called through the downpour.

“I don’t know.” Wind Runner nodded toward the bodies as the rain washed the blood from their pelts. “Whatever we decide, we have been given hope. We know that we can make a better future than this.”

“We can.” Tall Shadow shook out her sodden fur. “But first, we must bury the dead.”

Wind glanced across the river toward the reed marshes and licked her lips. “Are you sure we couldn’t share some of those cats’ fresh-kill?”

Her companion, Branch, bristled. “You want to eat fish ?”

“I’m so hungry I’d eat anything.” The sharp breeze whipping across the moor sliced through Wind’s fur. Snow clouds were piling at the moortop. Flakes whisked around her. Soon they would thicken and swallow the whole hillside, then wrap the forest in white.

“Don’t you trust me to find us food?” Branch huffed.

“We’ve been hunting all day.” Wind’s belly ached with hunger. The sudden chill had driven the moor prey underground. The group of cats who lived near the river had said that they had hunted fish before the river froze. But Branch had refused their kind offer to share their prey.

Even the sour taste of fish would be better than an empty belly, Wind thought.

“Come on.” Branch stalked across the grass, his mottled tabby pelt rippling as snowflakes caught in his fur. Wind knew that it wasn’t only the snow that was ruffling his pelt; she’d upset him. Branch had looked after her since her mother and sister had died of sickness in the last cold season. She knew that he felt responsible for her. He wanted to be the only one who hunted for her; why else would he have refused the fish?

Guiltily, she hurried after him. She and Branch would hunt together and make camp together. Perhaps, one day, they would even have kits together. He will always take care of me. Her heart felt warmed by the thought.

As she fell into step beside him, an ugly scent touched her nose. “Wait!” She stopped. “I smell dog.”

Branch swished his tail. “It’s a long way off,” he grunted. “The breeze is carrying the scent, that’s all.”

Wind opened her mouth. Snowflakes speckled her tongue and froze the roof of her mouth until she wasn’t sure what she could taste. Shaking out her fur, she hurried after him.

Branch had halted, his head turning as he scanned the moorside. As Wind stopped beside him, he nodded toward a brown shape bobbing across the grass.

Wind squinted through the snow, her mouth watering as she recognized the scent. Rabbit! She dropped into a crouch. Branch signaled with a sharp flick of his tail that he wanted her to stay where she was. They’d used this hunting technique before. She watched Branch trace a wide arc up and around the rabbit, stalking it from the far side.

The rabbit paused and sniffed the air, blinking through the snow, then bent to nibble at the grass.

Wind forced her paws to stay still. Her empty belly growled again as Branch crept closer. The rabbit would see him at any moment and then rush toward her . She huddled lower in the grass so that her brown pelt looked like no more than a shadow against the hillside.

The rabbit’s head jerked up, its eyes widening as it spotted Branch. Turning, it dashed away from him.

Wind stiffened with excitement, fixing her gaze on the rabbit as it fled toward her. Another few tail-lengths and she would pounce.

Suddenly the rabbit froze. Wind blinked with surprise. What was it doing? Branch was closing in on it. Come on! As Wind willed it closer, she saw Branch slither to a halt. What’s wrong with you both? Wind watched their gazes dart fearfully upslope. What are you staring at?

She spun around just in time to see snarling jaws lunge at her.

Dog!

Terror pulsed through her body, then pain as teeth clamped around her hind leg. Digging her claws into the grass, she tore out clumps of earth as the dog hauled her backward.

Her mind reeled, fear draining from her as she felt herself being shaken like fresh-kill. Numbness infused every hair on her pelt until she felt like she was watching from very far away. This must be what it was like for captured prey. Am I dead? Through her haze of shock, she heard Branch yowl. Then the dog let her go. She slumped onto the grass, vaguely aware of shrieking and barking beside her. Turning her head stiffly, she saw Branch clinging to the dog’s shoulders, his forepaws slashing at its face. Yelping in agony, the dog shook Branch off and fled up the hillside.

“Wind?” Branch was standing over her, panting. “Are you okay?”

She gazed at him helplessly, feeling the distant throb of pain. “My hind leg,” she croaked.

Branch turned to sniff it. “It’s a bad bite. We have to get you somewhere sheltered. Can you walk?”

“I’ll try.” Dazed, Wind struggled onto her three good legs. She felt Branch’s shoulder press into hers and leaned against it, grateful for his support. Dragging her hind leg, she began to limp beside him. Her pain was spiraling, growing sharper and hotter until she could hardly see the moor. Snow whipped her muzzle, but it did nothing to cool the agony burning through her body.

“We’re nearly there,” Branch puffed, guiding her out of the snow between stiff bushes of heather. Wind groaned with pain as the bristly branches scraped her wounded leg.

“Here.” Branch stopped and let her slide gently onto cold, peaty earth.

Wind collapsed, panting. “How bad is the wound?” She didn’t have the strength to look.

Branch’s gaze fixed on hers, glittering with fear.

Her heart quickened. “Am I going to die?”

“I’ll find some moss to make you more comfortable.” He turned away and disappeared through the heather.

Wind let her head drop onto her paws, her flank trembling as she felt the air strangely warm around her—as though the heat of her own body were filling the hollow. And yet she was still shivering, cold reaching her bones. She closed her eyes; perhaps if she slept, she’d heal more quickly. Her thoughts whirled. She heard Branch’s yowl as she saw the big dog chasing the rabbit. The images swirled and jumbled as she slid into unconsciousness.