Erin Hunter - Cloudstar’s Journey

Birdflight’s eyes rolled around to fix him with a furious glare. “Don’t make it sound so easy!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“Ah, but it’s the same for all toms,” Fawnstep mewed. “Cloudstar’s doing the best he can. Focus on your breathing, Birdflight.”

Cloudstar grimaced as Birdflight sank her claws into his front leg. He reminded himself that it was nothing compared to the pain his mate was in. A spasm rippled along Birdflight’s belly and a tiny shape slithered onto the moss. Fawnstep leaned over and nipped the birth sac with her teeth. The little shape started wriggling, and Birdflight twisted around to lick its wet fur.

“A tom!” Fawnstep announced, nudging the kit closer to Birdflight’s belly. Cloudstar gazed down at his son in delight. His dark fur was spiked all over from Birdflight’s tongue, and his eyes were tightly shut, yet he still found his way to the source of the milk scent.

Birdflight stiffened. “There’s another one coming,” she gasped.

“Good!” Cloudstar meowed. “We want four, remember?”

Birdflight just glared at him. One more heave, and a second shape appeared, even smaller than the first. Fawnstep freed the kit’s muzzle from the birth sac and pushed it toward Birdflight’s head. The kit was much less wriggly than the first one.

“Is it all right?” Cloudstar asked.

Birdflight started licking the kit with vigorous strokes of her tongue. The kit lifted its head and let out a tiny wail.

“She’s fine,” Fawnstep purred. “A lovely little she-cat to join her brother.” The medicine cat ran her paw along Birdflight’s belly. “That’s all, I think. I’ll bring you some soaked moss, Birdflight. Try to get some sleep while they suckle.” Fawnstep slipped out of the nursery, and Cloudstar heard Hazelwing, who was waiting just outside, ask about the kits.

He bent down and rubbed his muzzle gently over Birdflight’s ears. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. “A son and a daughter!”

Birdflight looked up at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you two more.”

“Don’t be mouse-brained. These two are perfect. They’ll keep us busy enough for the moons to come!” Cloudstar studied the tiny, squirming shapes beside Birdflight’s belly. “What should we call them?”

Birdflight raised her head to look at them. “The spiky-furred tom looks like a tuft of gorse! How about Gorsekit?”

“Perfect,” Cloudstar mewed. He ran his paw softly over the she-kit. “Look, her fur is turning dappled as it dries, like the sun shining through leaves. Spottedkit for this one?”

“Spottedkit and Gorsekit,” Birdflight murmured, settling back in her nest. “Our precious kits…” Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes.

Cloudstar padded out of the den and took a deep breath. This should have been the most joyful night of his life, but nothing could shift the heavy stone of sorrow that was lodged in his belly. He raised his head and looked at the silhouettes that loomed around the Clan. Where once they had been circled by trees, now yellow monsters surrounded them on all sides. The rest of the forest had gone, cut down and hauled away to make room for more rows of gray and blood-red stones. Only the densest part of the woods remained—the part where SkyClan had made their home.

Cloudstar pushed through the brambles and walked into the empty, churned-up space where the glade of birch trees had once stood. He stared up at the claw-pricks of silver light glimmering in the purple sky. Warriors of StarClan, do you see that I have new kits? Are you going to watch over them, or abandon them like you have abandoned the rest of us?

Suddenly a wave of tiredness swept over Cloudstar. He had spent all day hunting in the reeds by the river, the only place left where there was any hope of finding prey. Some of the warriors had even tried to hook fish out of the water like RiverClan cats, but had received only scraped claws and wet fur for their efforts. Every cat had started to loathe the taste of water vole, even Hazelwing’s kits, who complained loudest of being hungry.

Cloudstar closed his eyes and tucked his nose under his tail. He slipped into sleep, and found himself walking in StarClan, through the lofty, whispering trees where he had met his ancestors before. He looked around, sniffing the air, searching for those cats who had told him how strong and safe SkyClan was, how it would survive in the forest forever. But the forest was empty, with only the scent of leaves and tree bark on his tongue.

“Cowards!” Cloudstar yowled. “Where are you? Come and face me, and tell me now that SkyClan is safe!” He began to run through the trees, ferns whipping at his ears and snagging his tail. Had the whole of StarClan vanished into the night? Or were his ancestors watching him in secret, avoiding him because they had realized they were powerless to help?

Cloudstar halted in a clearing, his sides heaving. “Give me a sign that there is still some hope,” he begged. “Show me that you haven’t given up on us! You are all we have left!”

But there was nothing except the rustling of the leaves, which grew louder and louder until Cloudstar’s ear fur quivered. He put his paws over his ears, trying to block out the terrible noise, but it drew steadily nearer. With a gasp, he lifted his head and saw a yellow monster bearing down on him, huge and menacing against the milky dawn sky. With a shriek, Cloudstar raced back to the edge of the empty ground and watched as the monster rumbled past, growling.

“I doubt our ancestors even recognize their old home,” rasped a voice beside him.

Cloudstar turned, startled, to see Starlingfeather crouched in the dirt, his pelt ruffled and his eyes cloudy from age. “I have come here every day to watch the Twolegs destroy our territory,” the old cat went on. “Tail-length by tail-length, they have taken our trees, our prey, and our shelter. And worst of all, they have taken our hope.”

Cloudstar lashed his tail. “Don’t say that! We will fight on! We have to!”

Starlingfeather fixed his rheumy gaze on him. “Cloudstar, look at what lies around you. There can be nobility in admitting defeat and seeking another path. You have always led this Clan well, and that will not change, even though everything else might.”

“Our only hope lies in finding more territory,” Cloudstar meowed. He looked down at his paws, smeared with mud. “At the next Gathering, I shall ask the other Clans to help by giving us some of theirs, just as Duskstar did once.”

“And if they refuse?” Starlingfeather prompted.

Cloudstar stared bleakly at the old cat. “Then I don’t know what else I can do,” he confessed.

The full moon hung heavily in the cloudless sky, turning the forest to silver and the pelt of every cat to a pale, washed-out gray. Cloudstar slipped through the bushes at the top of the hollow and led his Clanmates down over the edge. The scents on the warm air told him that the other Clans had already arrived. Cats circled beneath the four great oak trees, and the leaders waited on the Great Rock. They were staring in astonishment at the SkyClan cats stumbling down the side of the hollow.

“Cloudstar!” Swiftstar called. “What kept you?”

Cloudstar didn’t answer at once. Instead, he pushed his way through the cats below the rock and scrambled up to join the other leaders. He looked down at the rest of his Clanmates emerging from the bushes that grew on the slopes of the hollow. The apprentices were bunched together, wide-eyed and nervous beneath the stares of the other cats. Next came Starlingfeather and Hawksnow, looking far too frail to be at a Gathering. Cloudstar heard hisses of disapproval from elders belonging to the other Clans; they all expected to be left in peace once they reached such a great age.