Эрин Хантер - The Sun Trail

Gray Wing scrambled to his paws and headed out of the clearing. Grief and anger surged over him so that he brushed blindly through the undergrowth. When a cat appeared on the track in front of him, he almost launched himself into another attack, before he realized that it was Storm.

“Gray Wing—what’s the matter?” she asked.

Gray Wing gazed at her, forcing himself to calm down. Her belly was heavy with her kits, but her silver fur was as soft and shining as ever.

“It’s Jagged Peak,” he explained. “I can’t believe Clear Sky would do that to him.”

Storm nodded, her green eyes troubled. “I understand how you feel,” she mewed. “But Clear Sky would never have asked Jagged Peak to leave if he hadn’t known he could come to you. I know he seems cold, but he’s really not.”

“Then why do it?” Gray Wing growled.

“He’s worried by all his responsibility,” Storm explained. “He really does think he’s acting for the best.”

Gray Wing shook his head sadly. “That still doesn’t make it right. And you know that.”

Storm didn’t reply, but she looked worried as she dipped her head to him and continued along the track.

His heart surging with grief, Gray Wing returned to the hollow. Tall Shadow was waiting for him. “What did Clear Sky have to say for himself?” she asked.

Gray Wing gave an angry shrug. “Nothing new. Jagged Peak can’t hunt anymore, so he has to go ‘for the good of the group.’ I can’t believe it was Clear Sky saying those things!”

“Neither can I,” Tall Shadow agreed, her tail-tip flicking to and fro. “You should always put your own family and friends first—every cat knows that! It’s far more important than the good of the larger group.”

“Clear Sky doesn’t see it that way,” Gray Wing muttered.

He padded across the hollow to look in on Jagged Peak, and found him awake again and talking to Cloud Spots.

“I’m pretty sure we can improve your movement,” the black-and-white tom was meowing. “If your injured leg won’t bear your weight, you have to strengthen the other three.”

“How can I do that?” Jagged Peak asked doubtfully.

“I’ll figure out exercises for you,” Cloud Spots promised. “Even here in your nest you could bend and stretch your legs to make the muscles strong.”

Jagged Peak tried, pushing with his forelegs and his uninjured hind leg, then went limp again, puffing out his breath in a sigh. “It feels weird,” he complained.

“You just have to get used to it,” Cloud Spots pointed out. “Don’t forget you’ve been lying in your nest in Clear Sky’s camp for more than a moon. No wonder your legs are weak.”

“Cloud Spots is right,” Gray Wing agreed. And Clear Sky must have destroyed Jagged Peak’s confidence, throwing him out like that and calling him useless . “I’ll help you, and you’ll feel better soon.”

“Dappled Pelt and I will work on some more ideas,” Cloud Spots meowed. “You wait, you’ll be hunting prey again soon.”

Jagged Peak blinked sorrowfully. “I don’t think I’ll ever catch prey again.”

As the days grew colder and the last of the leaves fell from the trees, prey became scarcer. Rabbits were staying in the warmth of their burrows, only venturing out to feed quickly in the early morning and at twilight, so that the cats had to range further in search of something to eat.

Gray Wing had ventured into the forest and picked up the scent of a squirrel. Stealthily he crept through the undergrowth, trying not to set his paws down on crunchy dead leaves. Slipping silently around a bramble thicket, he spotted the squirrel nibbling a nut in the middle of a clearing.

I can catch that , he thought, pressing himself to the ground as he prowled forward. It’s well away from the nearest tree .

Each paw step brought him closer to his quarry. Gray Wing was readying himself for a pounce when he heard an outraged yowl and something heavy landed on him from above, knocking the breath out of him. The squirrel leaped up and fled for a nearby ash tree, scurrying up the trunk and disappearing into a hole.

Gray Wing squirmed out from under the weight and scrambled to his paws. Fox was facing him, his neck fur bristling and his tail bushed out to twice its size.

“Prey-stealer!” he snarled.

“The prey isn’t yours!” Gray Wing retorted, lashing his tail. “It belongs to the cat who catches it.”

“This is Clear Sky’s territory.” Fox took a threatening pace forward. “So the prey belongs to him and his cats.”

Movement at the corner of his eye alerted Gray Wing; he turned his head to see his littermate emerge from a clump of bracken at the edge of the clearing, followed by Storm. Gray Wing took a pace toward his brother. “Clear Sky—” he began.

Fox leaped at him, bowling him over and cutting off his words. He pushed his face close to Gray Wing’s, his yellow eyes glazed with fury and his teeth a paw-length from Gray Wing’s throat. Forced to defend himself, Gray Wing thrust at him with his hind paws. But Fox was a big, muscular cat, and Gray Wing couldn’t free himself. He felt Fox’s claws dig into his head and slash across his forehead. Blood trickled into his eyes, half blinding him.

Pure panic throbbed through Gray Wing. This was no light skirmish; Fox really meant to hurt him. What is Clear Sky doing? Does he want Fox to tear me apart ?

Summoning all his strength, Gray Wing lashed out with his forepaws. Unable to see more than a blur of brown pelt, he couldn’t aim his strikes; he just knew that he had to get this cat off him.

Gathering all his strength, Gray Wing struck hard with one forepaw. There was a choking cry from Fox. Something warm gushed over Gray Wing’s paws. The weight that was pinning him down suddenly vanished. Gray Wing staggered to his paws and swiped blood out of his eyes to see Fox lying on his side among the debris of the forest floor. Blood was pouring from his throat over the dead leaves; Gray Wing’s pelt was sticky with it and it clogged his claws where he had dealt the blow. Fox gave one last powerful kick with his hind legs, and was still.

Clear Sky bounded forward to stand over the brown tom’s body, then turned a look of horror and accusation on Gray Wing. “You killed him!”

Gray Wing felt as if his whole body had turned to stone. “I didn’t mean…” he stammered.

Clear Sky glared at him, his narrowed blue eyes like chips of ice. “That’s it,” he snarled. “We’re finished. You killed Fox, when he was only doing his job.”

“But he—” Gray Wing began.

“I said, we’re finished,” Clear Sky interrupted, his voice cold. “I have no brother. Get out of here.”

“You can’t mean that!” Gray Wing protested. “After all we’ve been through together?”

But there was no regret in Clear Sky’s cold eyes. He said nothing, only sliding out his claws. Gray Wing realized that unless he left now, he would end up fighting his brother.

Gray Wing met Clear Sky’s cold gaze, trying to accept that it was the last time. Killing Fox was an accident, but Clear Sky will never believe that. What can I do but go and never come back ?

But before Gray Wing could turn away, Storm stepped forward. Her belly was swollen and her movements slow; Gray Wing could see that she was near to kitting. She gave Fox’s body a regretful glance, then padded past him to confront Clear Sky.

“I’ve had enough,” she mewed. “I’m going back to live in the Twolegplace. There’ll be better shelter there for my kits when they’re born.”

Clear Sky’s eyes widened in shock. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need me to look after you.”

“That’s just what I don’t need,” Storm retorted. “You treat me like a helpless kit, and I’m sick of it. And I can’t bear the way you treat cats when they step over your so-called boundaries. You don’t have the right to tell cats where they can and can’t hunt. Fox would be alive now if it wasn’t for you throwing your weight around.”