A Forest Divided

Chapter 13

Thunder padded stiffly from the camp. He was acutely aware of the cats following at his heels. He was responsible for them now—all of them. His heart pounded in his chest. Am I doing the right thing?

His father’s words rang in his ears. If Star Flower had chosen you instead of me, you wouldn’t be leaving. You’re blinded by jealousy.

Was that true?

No! It was far more than that. He couldn’t live where he wasn’t listened to—and he couldn’t watch Clear Sky let cats go hungry. Did his father truly believe that their prey would not last through leaf-bare, or was he just flexing his claws because he enjoyed ordering cats around?

Lightning Tail fell in beside Thunder as he headed for the gully. “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to leave?”

Thunder avoided his gaze. “It was a quick decision.” Numbly, he slithered into the gully. Rain had washed through it and the earth was soft. Mud seeped around his paws.

Lightning Tail landed behind him. “Where are we going?”

Thunder felt the cold night air pierce his fur. “I’m not sure.” He glanced over his shoulder. Leaf, Cloud Spots, and Pink Eyes were following, Owl Eyes on their tail. His heart pounded harder. Gray Wing believed in me, he reminded himself. I can do this.

The gully wound toward the sycamore slope, and he leaped up it, following the path he had carried prey along earlier that day. The forest was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds. As they climbed the slope, he stretched his eyes wide, picking out shapes among the shadows. An owl screeched in the distance, and Lightning Tail pricked his ears.

“There must be prey around,” the black tom murmured.

“We can hunt in the morning,” Thunder told him. “We have to find somewhere safe to sleep.” If owls were looking for prey, foxes would be too.

“Thunder!” Owl Eyes called from behind.

Thunder heard fear in his mew and stopped. “What’s wrong?”

Owl Eyes was staring back down the slope, his pelt bristling. “We’re being followed.”

Thunder stiffened. Had Clear Sky sent a patrol after them? He dashed past Leaf and Cloud Spots and stopped beside the young gray tom. “Can you see anything?”

Owl Eyes shook his head. “I heard voices.”

Thunder tasted the air. There were no strange smells. Just the scents of the camp drifting through the damp forest. “You’re imagining it.” He began to head back to Lightning Tail.

A hiss sounded from shadows below. A twig cracked.

“Who’s there?” Thunder unsheathed his claws.

“I’ll take a look.” Leaf barged past him, ears flat. Growling, the black-and-white tom raced for the gully.

Thunder watched him go, his ears twitching uneasily.

Cloud Spots’s pelt brushed his. “Has Clear Sky come after us?”

“Why would he?” Lightning Tail paced around them. “He said we could go if we wanted.”

Cloud Spots snorted. “But he’s Clear Sky, remember? He can’t be trusted.”

Pink Eyes was staring silently into the darkness. The half-blind cat’s mouth was open as he tasted for scents.

Thunder saw his ears twitch. “What—”

“Hush!” Pink Eyes leaned forward, his pelt bristling.

Thunder’s belly tightened.

“Stop him!” Pink Eyes growled sharply.

“Stop who?”

“Leaf!” Pink Eyes raced forward, bounding down the slope.

Alarm flashed through Thunder. He sped after the white tom. A shriek exploded from the shadows ahead. A long, low yowl sounded in reply.

Thunder leaped past Pink Eyes as they reached the gully, and jumped down into the muddy ditch.

He smelled fear-scent as he spotted Leaf’s black-and-white fur. The tom was hissing at a she-cat.

Two small shapes huddled at her side.

Milkweed!

As Thunder pushed past Leaf, the queen bared her teeth.

“What are you doing here?” Surprise rippled through Thunder’s fur.

Milkweed crouched in the gully, Thistle and Clover on either side. She eyed Leaf accusingly.

“We want to come with you, but he told us to go back.”

Leaf bristled beside Thunder. “They can’t hunt, and she’s sick! Let Clear Sky look after them.”

“How dare you!” Milkweed lashed out with a forepaw and sliced her claws over Leaf’s muzzle.

The tom hissed, eyes flashing with rage in the darkness.

Thunder pushed between them. “Milkweed and her kits can come with us if they want to,” he growled.

“They’ll make us weak.” Leaf’s tail whisked over the mud.

“I want to come with you so I can help!” Milkweed snapped. “Clear Sky kept promising I could hunt, but he never sent me out with a patrol.”

Thunder gazed at her sympathetically. “Are you strong enough to hunt?”

“Of course I am!” Milkweed snapped. Her ribs still showed through her pelt. “I’ve got kits to feed. Their hunger will drive me even harder than my own.” She flashed a look at Leaf. “He only wants to fill his own belly. He doesn’t belong in a group!”

Leaf bristled. “That’s not true!”

“Your only loyalty is to yourself,” Milkweed hissed.

“Be quiet! Both of you.” Thunder looked from one to the other, and then at the kits. Thistle was watching with narrowed eyes. Clover was growling, teeth bared. “Leaf proved his loyalty when he chose to come with me,” he told Milkweed. He turned to Leaf. “And Milkweed’s right—she has kits to raise, which means she has more to fight for than any of us.”

Leaf shifted his paws. “She’s been coughing since sunup, and she’s skinnier than a leaf-bare rabbit,” he grunted. “I bet she can’t even run.”

Milkweed hopped out of the gully and leaned back to grab Thistle by his scuff.

He mewed indignantly as she hauled him out.

Clover scrambled up by herself. “We’ll be able to hunt soon!” she hissed at Leaf. “One day you’ll be old and stiff and grateful for the food we bring you.”

Thunder felt a flash of pride in the feisty young kit. “Come on.” He jumped up the slope and beckoned to the kits with his tail. “We need to find somewhere to sleep.”

Leaf pulled himself out of the gully and stalked up the slope. “We should have just carried on walking,” he grumbled as he passed Pink Eyes.

The white tom ignored him, his gaze on the kits. “Hurry up, Thistle.” He whisked his tail encouragingly.

Thistle galloped toward him, Clover at his heels.

Thunder fell in beside Milkweed as they followed the kits up the slope. He glanced sideways at her. “I thought you were happy with Clear Sky.”

“I’m grateful he took us in,” she answered. “But I never liked depending on other cats to feed my kits. I want to hunt.”

“You will,” Thunder promised. He fluffed his fur against the chill. Finding enough prey to last through leaf-bare was going to be their biggest challenge—but first they had to find somewhere to make camp.

They caught up with Owl Eyes, Cloud Spots, and Lightning Tail. Leaf was already heading past the sycamore while the kits scampered after Pink Eyes.

Lightning Tail blinked in surprise at Milkweed as she padded past him wordlessly, following her kits.

Thunder caught his friend’s eye. “I thought I was going to be spending the night alone in the forest.”

“Tough,” Lightning Tail purred. “You’re stuck with us.”

Thunder felt a surge of affection for his friend. He’d been relieved when the black tom had stepped forward and offered to go with him. He fell in beside him now, and together they headed up the slope.

As the night deepened, the air grew colder.

“My paws ache,” Owl Eyes muttered as they began to climb yet another slope.

Above, the clouds had cleared to reveal a star-speckled sky, and Thunder could feel frost settling over the woods. He’d lost track of how far they’d come. This part of the forest was unfamiliar: small, bare clearings followed by woodland brambled so thickly that it was hard to find a trail through.

Where could they rest? The clearings were too exposed, the brambles too sharp to burrow beneath.

“Thunder!” Leaf’s call sounded from ahead.

Thunder bounded forward, skidding around Cloud Spots and Milkweed as they nudged the weary kits on.

“Careful!” Leaf cautioned as Thunder neared. “It’s a steep drop.”

Thunder scrambled to a halt, sending a shower of grit spraying ahead of him. He heard it rattle over stone and land far below. Leaf was staring down into shadow, and Thunder followed his gaze.

The land dropped away into a small ravine. Moonlight pooled at the bottom, lighting a clearing ringed by bracken and trees.

Leaf lifted his chin. “Do you think we could get down there?”

Thunder surveyed the cliff. It was rocky, but there were enough ledges and jutting boulders for them all to jump down. “With a little help, even the kits could make it,” he meowed.

Lightning Tail caught them up and gazed into the ravine. “It looks like there’s plenty of shelter.”

Thunder jumped down onto the nearest ledge, relieved to find it solid beneath his paws.

Excitement fizzed in his belly. “Tell the others to hurry,” he called up. They could rest here for the night and explore the area more in the morning. And hunt. His belly rumbled at the thought. The undergrowth was so thick below, there had to be prey.

He led the way down, jumping from ledge to ledge, checking that the others were following each time he stopped. Before long, he landed on soft earth. A wall of prickly gorse blocked his way, and he sniffed along the base as Lightning Tail and Leaf guided Pink Eyes, Cloud Spots, Milkweed, and her kits down the cliff.

Owl Eyes landed clumsily beside him. “This is great!” His round eyes shone in the moonlight.

“It would be if I could find a way past this gorse,” Thunder muttered.

“Here!”

Thunder looked up. Owl Eyes was already squeezing under a gap in the spiny bush. Thunder followed, the thorns scraping his spine. He wriggled out the other side and gazed ahead. Grass circled a bare earth clearing where a large boulder stood, glittering with frost. Brambles and bracken crowded the edge, and trees stood like guards against the forest beyond.

Hope flared in Thunder’s belly. Could this be their new home?

Lightning Tail squeezed from under the gorse. “We can rest for the night over there!” He nodded toward a thick clump of bracken. He crossed the clearing and began to trample the stems until he’d hollowed out a den.

Thistle and Clover burst from beneath the gorse and raced toward the black tom.

“Is this where we’re sleeping?” Clover looked at him with round eyes.

“I want to sleep near the edge so I can listen for foxes,” Thistle announced.

Milkweed nosed her way into the clearing, Cloud Spots and Leaf on her tail.

Pink Eyes followed, tasting the air. “No cat scents here,” he murmured. “Do you think Clear Sky knows about this place?”

“Let’s hope not.” Thunder felt a prickle of worry. In the morning, they would mark new borders and organize hunting patrols. The scent of damp bracken filled his nose. Suddenly he felt tired, his paws like stone.

Leaf was already circling in the den. The black-and-white tom flopped down wearily while

Thistle and Clover huddled on the far side, eyeing him suspiciously.

Milkweed slid in beside them and lay down, curling her tail protectively around them.

Pink Eyes sniffed the edge of the den before settling, while Cloud Spots crouched next to Milkweed, his mouth open to taste the scents of their new home.

“Come on!” Lightning Tail nodded to Thunder from the edge of the den. “You must be exhausted.”

Thunder nodded and followed Pink Eyes across the clearing. He waited for the white tom to pad into the bracken before settling down beside Lightning Tail. His paws were sore from walking, his belly hollow with hunger. His eyes stung with tiredness.

“Should one of us sit guard?” Lightning Tail asked.

“I can do it,” Owl Eyes offered. “I can sit on the cliff top and look out for intruders.”

Leaf’s nose was twitching. “Perhaps we should hunt before we sleep.”

Thunder looked around at the cats huddled together in the shelter of the bracken. “No cat is hunting or guarding,” he told them. “There’s no scent of fox or other cats. We can sleep safely until morning, and then we can hunt.”

Murmurs of agreement stirred around him in the darkness.

One by one, his campmates closed their eyes.

Thunder gazed across the clearing, grateful they’d found shelter for the night. Beside him, Lightning Tail’s breath softened into sleep. Thistle and Clover stopped fidgeting beside Milkweed.

Leaf’s eyes closed, and Cloud Spots began to snore gently.

These were his cats now. Anxiety jabbed in his belly. How can I protect them all?

Thunder gazed at the tall oak, squinting against the sunshine spearing through its branches. He could see a wide gap far up the trunk.

Owl hole?

He climbed over the roots, satisfied when he saw a pellet of bones and fur lying among them. An owl definitely lived here. Prey must be rich in this part of the forest. He padded across the shaded stretch of ground and headed down the slope beyond. It felt good to be hunting alone, away from the responsibilities of the camp. If we hunt together, then we will be less tempted to keep our catch to ourselves. Clear Sky’s words rang in his head. How could his father believe he would eat before the cats in his camp had full bellies?

In the days that had passed since they’d discovered the ravine, they had made more nests among the bracken. The frost that had first come on the night they’d arrived had returned again and again. But sunshine pooled in the small, sheltered spot and warmed the camp by day. It had seemed foolish to look for another home. Milkweed had begun weaving brambles into a den for her kits in case snow came. She had also hunted, bringing back as much prey as Leaf. Her eyes flashed with satisfaction each time she dropped her catch among the other pieces of fresh-kill.

Pink Eyes had watched the kits while she’d been gone. Thunder was pleased to see how at ease the old tom was in his new home. He could hardly believe that this was the same cat who’d snapped at Birch and Alder for playing with his tail. Now, he would lie patiently in the sun-warmed clearing while Thistle and Clover clambered over him or played moss-ball nearby. From time to time he’d venture out of the ravine, hunting with Owl Eyes or helping Cloud Spots collect herbs. His delicate sense of smell could detect fragrant leaves so well hidden that they were unharmed by the frosts.

Yet the hunting wasn’t easy. The sickness had clearly reached this deep into the forest. Prey was as scarce as it had been in Clear Sky’s territory, and with kits to feed, finding enough each day was a challenge.

Worry itched beneath Thunder’s pelt as he padded down the slope. Had Clear Sky been right about hunting the forest dry before newleaf? What if the prey ran out? He pricked his ears. Water chattered ahead. He could see the river glittering between the trees. He licked his lips, suddenly realizing how thirsty he was, and headed for the bank. The river was sluggish here at the boundary of River Ripple’s marshland, lapping the edge of the forest.

As he neared, movement caught his eye. He froze. A sparrow was hopping among the roots of a rowan, digging its beak deep into the leaf litter to rummage for bugs.

Thunder dropped into a hunting crouch and pulled himself forward, paw by paw. He lifted his tail to make sure it didn’t drag over the rustling leaves.

The sparrow lifted its head and gulped down a morsel.

Thunder paused, waiting until it plunged its beak back among the leaves.

He narrowed his eyes. The sparrow was only a few tail-lengths away. Could he risk leaping from here? No need. It seemed busy with its hunt for food. He drew himself forward a few more paw steps, his heartbeat quickening as the sparrow looked up and shook out its feathers. It hopped onto a root and glanced at the branches above.

It’s going to fly away!

As the sparrow spread its small wings, Thunder leaped, stretching high to bat the small, brown bird down before it could flutter into the air.

The sparrow fell to the ground. Thunder lunged, killing it with a quick bite. It was thin, but it would feed the kits. He carried it to the river and laid it down on the sandy shore before he bent to drink.

Leaves rustled behind him.

More prey?

He turned, water dripping from his chin.

Two amber eyes watched from the woods.

Blinking against the sunshine, Thunder unsheathed his claws. He smelled tom. Tasting the air, he detected the odd scent of frost and stone. This cat wasn’t from around here. He narrowed his eyes, glimpsing the dark shape of a black cat, and growled as the stranger’s gaze flicked toward the sparrow. “Catch your own prey,” he warned.

“That was my prey.” The tom padded forward, his paws clumsily scuffing the sandy earth as he stepped from the trees.

Thunder’s pelt pricked. “What do you mean?”

“I was stalking it when you caught it.”

Unease flashed through Thunder. He hadn’t even realized he was being watched. He needed to be more careful on this new territory.

But the tom did not seem angry. Thunder suddenly saw how his pelt hung off his skinny frame, and how his shoulders jutted like twigs beneath his fur. He recognized the look of hunger hollowing the cat’s eyes and glanced guiltily at the sparrow. “I didn’t realize.” Should he give up his catch? What about Thistle and Clover? They were hungry too. “Where are you from?” Thunder tipped his head.

Was this cat from Twolegplace?

“We come from far away.” The tom stared boldly now at the sparrow as it lay on the bank, hope sparking in his dull gaze.

We? Thunder scanned the forest edging the river, shifting his paws uneasily. Were there more cats watching him?

“We come from the mountains,” the tom went on.

Interest sparked in Thunder’s belly. When he was a kit, Gray Wing had told him stories of the journey he and some of the others had made from the mountains. From what Thunder could remember, it had been a long, dangerous trek. No wonder this cat looked so worn out. “How many of you are there?” he asked.

“I’ll show you.” The tom headed back into the shadow of the trees.

Thunder hesitated. Was this a trap? He could see the tom’s pelt moving like a shadow between the trunks. No. They could have attacked him on the bank and taken his catch.

He picked up the sparrow and followed.

Beneath the trees once more, it took a moment for his eyes to readjust to the gloom. He halted and scanned the forest. The black tom was climbing over a fallen trunk, heading for a glade near the owl’s tree.

Thunder hurried after him, leaping the trunk and weaving his way past the stumps of shriveled ferns. The tom was already climbing the far side of the glade. He stopped beside a long-dead beech tree. A split in the trunk showed a hollow inside. The tom whispered something into the shadows; as Thunder approached, he saw two blue eyes blinking in the darkness, and smelled the scent of a she-cat. She carried the same tang of frost and stone as her companion.

“Who’s this?” The she-cat glared from her nest in the hollow trunk.

The tom dipped his head. “I don’t know. I found him drinking by the river.”

“Does he know them? Has he seen where they—” The she-cat began to cough, her frail body shuddering with each desperate hack.

The tom leaned down and began to lap her flank, trying to soothe her.

Thunder smelled the stench of infection and crept closer.

The she-cat’s gray, speckled pelt was matted, her bones showing even sharper through her fur than the tom’s. She crouched, trembling as her coughing eased, and Thunder saw a blackened wound at the top of her hind leg.

He dropped the sparrow. “You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing,” she rasped.

“I know a cat who could give you herbs to help it heal,” Thunder offered. Should he get Cloud

Spots?

“It will heal by itself,” the she-cat muttered.

Thunder nosed the sparrow toward her. “Perhaps a little food will give you the strength to recover more quickly.” This she-cat was old, far older than her traveling companion. White specks of fur showed around her muzzle.

She blinked at him in disbelief. “You’d give me your prey?”

“It was your friend’s prey, really,” Thunder told her. “He spotted it first.”

The black tom blinked at him gratefully. “Eat it, Quiet Rain.” He pawed the sparrow closer to the she-cat.

“This is the first kindness we’ve met since our journey began,” Quiet Rain murmured.

Thunder dipped his head. “Prey has been scarce since the sickness.”

“What sickness?” Quiet Rain lifted her head sharply, anxiety showing in her blue gaze.

“It has passed now,” Thunder reassured her. “But it killed much of our prey before leaf-bare.”

Quiet Rain glanced at her companion. “Sun Shadow and I thought we were coming to a land of plenty,” she mewed bitterly.

“It will be, once newleaf has brought the woods and moor back to life,” Thunder promised.

Sun Shadow gazed at the sparrow hungrily. “How long will it be until ‘newleaf’?”

Thunder felt a jab of pity for the skinny tom. Then curiosity rippled through his pelt.

She called him Sun Shadow.

Didn’t Tall Shadow once have a brother called Moon Shadow? He’d died on the journey from the mountains. Could this be another littermate?

Quiet Rain ripped a mouthful of flesh from the sparrow. “What’s your name?” she asked, chewing noisily.

“Thunder,” he replied, wondering if she could read his thoughts.

Quiet Rain’s eyes narrowed as she exchanged a glance with Sun Shadow. She swallowed, a feather clinging to her whiskers as she turned back to Thunder. “Have you met a cat called Gray Wing?” she asked, her mew tight with pain. “Or Jagged Peak? Or Clear Sky?”

Sun Shadow leaned forward. “Have you met Moon Shadow? He’s my father.”

Thunder’s belly tightened. These cats were from the Tribe! What could he tell them? They had come so far to see their Tribemates. “I know Tall Shadow,” he told them cautiously.

Sun Shadow’s eyes shone. “She’s my father’s littermate!”

“And what of Gray Wing?” Quiet Rain’s eyes lit up. “Clear Sky? Jagged Peak?”

Thunder’s tail trembled. “How do you know them?”

“I am their mother.”

Thunder searched for words. How could he tell this old she-cat that her sons now lived more as rivals than as littermates? Memories of the great battle crowded his mind.

“Well?” Quiet Rain stared at him expectantly.

“Gray Wing and Jagged Peak live on the far side of this forest with Tall Shadow,” he told her, thinking he could lead them to the pines. He wasn’t eager to return to his father’s camp yet, so he did not mention Clear Sky. “I can take you to see them.”

Quiet Rain struggled to her paws, her eyes glistening. “Are they well?”

“Yes.”

“What about my father?” Sun Shadow leaned forward eagerly.

Thunder avoided the tom’s gaze. “Tall Shadow knows more than me,” he mumbled. “She can tell you everything when you reach her camp.”

“We must leave!” Quiet Rain stepped over the half-eaten sparrow, her paws trembling.

Sun Shadow glanced at her anxiously. “You should rest for a while first.”

Thunder nodded. “It’s a long trek,” he told her. “Finish your meal. We can go when you’ve got your strength back.”