A Forest Divided

Chapter 14

Thunder watched Quiet Rain return to her meal. Worry jabbed his chest. Each bite seemed to pain her. Her ears flattened as she chewed, and she winced with each swallow. Was she strong enough to make the journey? The pines were beyond the Thunderpath.

Doubt gnawed at him. Perhaps I should take them back to my camp? He nudged Sun Shadow aside. “I think Quiet Rain’s wounds need treating before we leave,” he hissed. Cloud Spots would know what to do.

“She won’t wait for that,” Sun Shadow whispered back. “Not now that she knows her sons are near.”

“But she’s so weak.”

“She made the journey from the mountains, didn’t she? It can’t be much farther to the pine forest.”

Quiet Rain jerked up her muzzle. “What are you two whispering about?”

Thunder met her gaze. “You should come back to my camp to rest, and let Cloud Spots help you.”

He hoped the mention of her old friend from the mountains might convince her, but Quiet Rain only paused for a moment, then returned to her meal.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” she mewed, having clearly said all that she wanted to on the matter.

Thunder exchanged looks with Sun Shadow.

“Don’t bother arguing,” the black tom murmured. “Once Quiet Rain has made up her mind, it stays made up.”

Thunder gazed between the trees. He was a short run from the ravine. He should at least warn his campmates that he was heading for Tall Shadow’s territory. They’d worry if he was late returning to camp. He dipped his head to Sun Shadow. “I must tell the others that I’m leaving.”

Distrust sharpened the tom’s gaze.

“It’s okay,” Thunder reassured him. “I’ll come back.”

“Alone?” Sun Shadow narrowed his eyes.

“Alone,” he promised. The long journey had clearly left these cats wary. Who knew what cruelty they’d witnessed? “My campmates are busy hunting.” Thunder kept his mew reassuringly light. “I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving the mountain cats crouched at the foot of the beech, he bounded between the trees. His paws thrummed over the frozen earth as he headed for the ravine. Cutting between brambles and leaping fallen trees, he raced until his chest hurt, only slowing as the slope steepened toward the camp.

“Thunder?” Milkweed’s call surprised him before he reached the top.

He slowed to a halt, scanning the thick undergrowth until he caught sight of her ginger-and-black pelt. She stared at him from a patch of wood sorrel, its leaves closed against the cold. “Are you hunting?” Thunder asked.

Milkweed rolled her eyes. “No,” she mewed sarcastically. “I just felt like a stroll.”

Thunder’s whiskers twitched. Now that her kits had a safe den and she could hunt once more, Milkweed showed as much spirit as any cat. The hunger she’d suffered still showed in her thin frame, but her eyes were bright and her cough had cleared. “Have you caught anything yet?” he asked.

“I buried a mouse back near the brambles.” She nodded over her shoulder. “I’ll dig it up on the way back to camp. What about you?” Her nose twitched curiously and she stiffened. “You smell strange.”

Thunder whisked his tail. “I found two cats from the mountains,” he told her. “They’re looking for their kin.”

Milkweed tipped her head. “Their kin?”

“Gray Wing, Jagged Peak, and Tall Shadow.” He didn’t mention his father’s name. He didn’t want to explain why he was taking them all the way to the pines. “I promised to show them the way.”

“But why?” Milkweed blinked. “You have your own cats to look after now.”

“These cats are starving and one of them is sick,” he told her. “They need my help.”

Milkweed gazed at him softly, nodding once. “Of course.”

“Can the group spare me?” He glanced at the sky. The sun was climbing. It would be dusk before he returned.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be back by tonight,” Thunder promised.

“I guess we can hunt without you,” Milkweed told him.

Thunder shifted his paws guiltily. “I have to go.”

“It’s okay.” Milkweed padded from the sorrel. “We followed you because we trusted you to do the right thing. And if you are helping these mountain cats, it must be the right thing.”

Gratitude flooded beneath Thunder’s pelt. He gazed warmly at the mottled queen. “Thank you.”

“You’d better get back to them,” Milkweed prompted. “It sounds like they need you.”

As Thunder turned, she called after him. “If you find any prey on your travels, bring it back to camp.”

“I will!” Thunder whisked his tail as he headed back to Sun Shadow and Quiet Rain.

They were waiting for him, eyes bright with hope. Sun Shadow paced in front of the beech while

Quiet Rain peered from the hollow trunk.

He could hear her rasping breath as he neared. “We’ll skirt the edge of the forest and cross the moor,” he told them as he stopped beside Sun Shadow. A journey through the forest would be too arduous for such weakened cats—leaping gullies and fallen trees would exhaust them.

And we might meet Clear Sky.

He pushed the thought away. “Follow me.”

He headed for the river, leading them out from the shelter of the trees and onto the sandy shore.

The sun glittered on the water as a freezing wind whisked over it. Thunder felt it through his thick fur. He glanced at Quiet Rain and Sun Shadow. They padded side by side, keeping their paws clear of the water. “Are you cold?” he asked.

Quiet Rain caught his eye. “Cold? In this wind?” She snorted. “We come from the mountains, remember?”

“Of course.” Thunder’s whiskers twitched. Quiet Rain might walk with a limp and need to stop to cough every now and then, but there was nothing wrong with her tongue.

They walked in silence as the sun crossed the sky, the sand turning to pebbles beneath Thunder’s paws. He tensed when he caught the scent of Clear Sky’s markers, tainting the breeze. They were passing his father’s territory. He glanced nervously into the forest, searching for movement among the trees. A blackbird chittered in the branches, but there was no sign of a patrol. Thunder was suddenly thankful that Clear Sky kept his cats confined to camp. He quickened his pace. He could see where the forest ended and the river bent toward the gorge. They could leave the shore and forest behind and head straight onto the moor.

“Not so fast!” Quiet Rain croaked. He glanced back, realizing that the mountain cats were falling behind.

He hurried back and took a spot beside Quiet Rain, shielding her from the forest while Sun

Shadow flanked her other side. The sooner they were past Clear Sky’s land, the better.

“Tell me about the mountains,” he meowed softly, one ear twisted toward the woods.

“You must know of it already if you know Gray Wing and Tall Shadow,” Quiet Rain answered.

“Surely they’ve told you stories of their old home?”

“They’ve told stories,” Thunder agreed. “But I don’t know how much is real and how much imagined.”

“What did they tell you?” Quiet Rain asked.

“That the snow fell so thick and so fast, it could drown a cat caught out in a blizzard,” Thunder told her.

“That much is true.” Quiet Rain flicked her thin tail. “Did they tell you about the eagles that can carry off a full-grown tom? And the drops so sheer, and valleys so deep, that if a stone fell, you would not hear it land?”

“What did you hunt?” Thunder only knew that hunger had driven Gray Wing and the others to the moor. “Are there mice and voles in the mountains?”

Sun Shadow purred. “There are mice everywhere. And in the warm season we can hunt the lower slopes for rabbits and small birds.”

“What do you hunt when the snows come?” Thunder asked, wondering how these cats could ever survive the rocky crags.

“Whatever we can,” Sun Shadow told him. “Sometimes we find the carcass of a deer left by a sharptooth.”

“A sharptooth?” Thunder’s pelt lifted along his spine.

“They’re giant cats,” Sun Shadow told him. “They are rare, but far more deadly than eagles.”

“Why do you stay there?” Thunder asked.

Sun Shadow shrugged. “It’s our home.”

Thunder didn’t understand. “But it sounds so cold and prey-poor.”

“Stoneteller found it,” Sun Shadow explained.

Thunder remembered Gray Wing and Clear Sky talking about Stoneteller. “Is that your leader?”

“She is more than a leader,” Quiet Rain rasped. “She is ancient, and speaks with the ancients who died before her. She tells us what is and what will be.”

Thunder could only blink. These certainly were strange cats.

Sun Shadow went on. “Long ago, she journeyed from far away, and the mountains were the first place to welcome her.”

Welcome her? Thunder didn’t comment. If these cats thought snowy mountains full of eagles and sharptooths were welcoming, they were even stranger than he’d thought.

Pebbles swished beneath their paws. The shore widened and the forest thinned beside them as the river curved away toward the gorge. Thunder could hear the faint roar of water where the river tumbled down between the cliffs. He could see the stepping-stones that crossed from the moor onto

River Ripple’s marshes.

Stones turned to grass as they climbed toward the moor. Wind streamed through his whiskers and he smelled the scent of heather. For a moment, memories swamped him. He was hunting with Lightning Tail, veering across the windblown grass as his friend drove a rabbit toward him. Hawk Swoop was calling them back to camp. Acorn Fur was pacing sulkily at the entrance to the hollow, complaining that they’d left her behind.

“Thunder!” A familiar call jerked him back into the present.

He turned his head.

River Ripple’s silver pelt showed on the shore behind them.

“Who’s that?” Sun Shadow’s pelt bristled along his spine. Quiet Rain flattened her ears.

“Don’t worry.” Thunder hailed the river cat with a flick of his tail. “He’s a friend.”

River Ripple bounded from the shore and hurried up the grassy slope after them. He slowed and stopped a few paces behind, his gaze flashing from Quiet Rain to Sun Shadow.

Quiet Rain’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You smell of water,” she hissed.

River Rippled dipped his head. “I live beside the river.”

Quiet Rain wrinkled her nose. “What cat would live beside water?”

“The fishing is good,” River Ripple told her.

Quiet Rain’s gaze flicked along his sleek, plump flank. “You catch fish?” she gasped. “How?”

“I swim.”

Quiet Rain turned to Sun Shadow, her eyes wide. “What kind of place have we come to?”

“A place like any other.” River Ripple’s mew was polite. “Where are you heading?”

“To the pine forest.” Thunder jerked his head toward the distant horizon.

“Why cross the moor?” River Ripple padded to his side. “You could have cut through the forest.”

Quiet Rain narrowed her eyes. “Is that true?”

Thunder stiffened. River Ripple didn’t know that he’d left Clear Sky to set up his own camp—and he didn’t want to explain now. Quiet Rain might demand he take them back to meet her son. “Sun

Shadow and Quiet Rain are weak from their journey from the mountains. I thought the moor would be easier to cross.”

River Ripple’s gaze glittered with interest. “You come from the mountains?”

“We come in search of kin,” Sun Shadow told him.

Thunder added quickly, “I’m taking them to Tall Shadow’s camp.” He nodded toward Sun

Shadow. “This cat is Moon Shadow’s son.”

River Ripple dipped his head. “Moon Shadow was a fine cat.”

Sun Shadow stiffened. “He… was…?”

River Ripple caught Thunder’s eye. “You haven’t told him.”

Thunder lifted his chin, looking solemnly at the black tom. “Moon Shadow was killed. He died bravely saving his friends from a fire.”

Sun Shadow swayed on his paws. “My father!”

Quiet Rain ducked in beside him, pressing her thin shoulder to his. “We always knew they were taking a risk when they left the mountains.”

“But I wanted a chance to know him.” Sun Shadow’s mew was thick with grief.

Thunder stared at the ground, his pelt hot. “I should have told you before. I’m sorry.”

Quiet Rain’s mew hardened. “What about the others?”

Thunder tried to drag his gaze from the grass, his heart pounding. What can I tell them? So many were dead. This wasn’t the time to share such sorrow. They still had to cross the moor. “Gray Wing and Jagged Peak are fine,” he told her softly. Then he mumbled, “So is Clear Sky.”

River Ripple wove past him and faced Quiet Rain. “There is much to tell you. But this is not the place. Let us lead you to Tall Shadow’s camp, where you can rest.” He caught Thunder’s eye. “I’ll accompany you.”

Thunder felt relief wash his fur. River Ripple understood that these cats needed shelter far more than they needed to hear the truth. As the silver tom headed onward, the mountain cats followed him wordlessly. Sun Shadow’s tail dragged along the ground, and Quiet Rain’s breath rattled in her chest as the slope steepened.

River Ripple slowed and put his shoulder against hers. “We’re nearly at the top.”

Sun Shadow fell in beside Thunder. “How long ago did he die?”

“Many moons.” Thunder kept his gaze fixed ahead. He wished he could ease the tom’s grief, but he didn’t know how.

“Did you know him well?”

“I was young.”

“But you know Tall Shadow and Gray Wing?”

Thunder’s pelt prickled uncomfortably. “Yes.”

Quiet Rain glanced at him. “What about Jagged Peak and Clear Sky? How well do you know them?”

“Well enough.” Thunder’s mew thickened. “I’m Clear Sky’s son.”

Quiet Rain stopped and stared at him. “Clear Sky’s son!” Delight flooded her gaze. “Where is he?

Where’s Bright Stream?”

Thunder faced her, puzzled. “Bright Stream?”

“Your mother!” Quiet Rain meowed. “Clear Sky and Bright Stream were destined to be mates.”

“Bright Stream died on the journey from the mountains.” The words blurted from Thunder’s mouth before he could stop them.

Quiet Rain’s eyes clouded. “She died too?”

“An eagle carried her off,” Thunder mumbled, guilt clawing at his heart.

“She left the mountains, only to suffer a mountain cat’s fate!” Anger tinged Quiet Rain’s mew.

“Who’s your mother then?” Her gaze scorched Thunder’s.

“Storm,” he answered quietly.

“She is Clear Sky’s mate?” Quiet Rain held his gaze.

“She was.”

“Was?” Quiet Rain stared in disbelief. “More death?”

Thunder could only nod.

“Why did we ever come here?” Quiet Rain pulled away from River Ripple and limped to Sun

Shadow’s side. “This is a place where cats come to die!”

“Not all cats.” River Ripple’s gentle mew carried on the wind that was gusting over the moortop and tugging at the cats’ fur. “It is a place where prey is rich and the greenleaf is long and warm.”

Thunder purred his agreement. “Gray Wing and Jagged Peak love it here. And Jagged Peak has kits now.”

Quiet Rain lifted her head. “Kits?”

“Storm Pelt, Dew Nose, and Eagle Feather,” Thunder told her, relieved to have some good news for the older she-cat.

Quiet Rain mewed approvingly. “Good, strong names.”

“Hawk Swoop had kits too.” River Ripple nudged her gently onward. “Let me tell you about them.”

Thunder felt a wave of gratitude toward the river cat as he steered the old she-cat across the moor, chattering easily.

They passed the rim of the four trees hollow and followed the moor as it sloped toward the Thunderpath. Beyond, the pines stood like a great dark wall, their tips scratching the pale sky.

Thunder stopped on the grass area at the side of the Thunderpath and gazed along the straight, black track. There were no monsters to be heard, but the foul stench in the air told him one had passed by recently. “We must be careful crossing here,” he told Sun Shadow.

Quiet Rain snorted beside River Ripple. “Do you think we haven’t seen plenty of these stinking tracks on our journey already?”

Thunder stepped back and let the she-cat approach the Thunderpath’s edge with Sun Shadow. She glanced both ways, then scuttled across it like a mouse. The black tom bounded after her.

Thunder padded to River Ripple’s side. “Do you think all mountain cats are as prickly as these two?”

River Ripple purred. “I’m sure they’re just tired from their journey.” He glanced along the Thunderpath, then darted across. Thunder chased his tail, pleased that there were no monsters.

Sun Shadow and Quiet Rain were waiting beside the pines, staring at the shadows beyond.

“Which way?” Sun Shadow asked.

“I’m not sure.” Thunder glanced hopefully at River Ripple. “Have you been here before?”

River Ripple shook his head. “Slate’s visited. She told me Tall Shadow made her camp deep in the pine forest.”

Thunder looked at the brambles crowding between the straight, dark trunks. “That might be hard to find.”

River Ripple padded into the shadows. “We won’t fail,” he promised.

“You must know their scents,” Quiet Rain sniffed. “Smell them out! In the mountains, a kit can track a mouse in the snow!”

“Tracking scents in a pine forest might be harder than tracking scents in snow,” Thunder warned.

The tang of pinesap swirled around them. He opened his mouth, searching for the familiar taste of his old campmates. Please let us find the camp soon. Quiet Rain’s eyes were dull with exhaustion, and her limping stride was getting worse. She needed to rest.

“Come on.” River Ripple beckoned the mountain cats forward and led them past a rotting log.

Pelt pricking with unease, Thunder headed into the forest. What would Tall Shadow say when she saw her old friends from the mountains? And how would she break the news of the rift between Quiet Rain’s sons—and the deaths of so many of her Tribemates?