Cloudstar’s Journey

Chapter 5

Cloudstar was jolted awake by a terrible clattering noise. He was curled on the trunk of one of the fallen trees, enclosed by leaves that dangled limply as they died with the broken branches. He sprang up and peered over the top of his makeshift den. In the harsh dawn light, the remains of SkyClan’s former border looked ravaged and horrifying. Shattered trees lay everywhere, with the brown earth churned up around them like an open wound. Cloudstar looked wildly at the line of trees still standing behind him. Were the Twolegs destroying even more of the territory?

But those trees were standing as tall as ever, though their branches trembled with the noise. Cloudstar looked back at the devastation and saw one of the fallen trees quivering as if it was trying to make its way back into the forest. With a jerk, it started to slide along the ground, in a din of scraping bark and snapping branches. Cloudstar realized it was being dragged on a long, silver tendril attached to a yellow monster, whose paws scrabbled at the mud as it tried to get a grip on the slippery leaf mulch. Slowly, slowly, the tree was hauled away from its stricken companions until it disappeared behind one of the huge mounds of earth. There was a volley of Twoleg shouts, and another yellow monster crawled forward, trailing a silver tendril that was bound tightly around the trunk of the next tree.

But somehow this didn’t seem as troubling as the devastation of the trees in the first place. And the Twolegs are leaving the standing trees alone today. Perhaps they have destroyed as many as they want. Cloudstar jumped down, set fresh border marks on the trunks of the trees still standing, and ran back into the woods.

When he entered the camp, Fawnstep met him. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for a moon; her fur stood on end and was littered with scraps of dirt, and her eyes were huge and bulging. “Have they destroyed more trees?” she demanded as soon as Cloudstar wriggled free from the brambles.

“Not today,” he reported. “The Twolegs seem to be moving the trees they pushed down yesterday.”

Fawnstep’s eyes narrowed. “Moving them? Where? Why?”

Cloudstar headed for his den, longing to wash the dust from his fur. “How am I supposed to know?” he snapped. “It’s bad enough having Twolegs troubling our borders. I’m not going to start knowing how their brains work!” He pushed his way into his den and flopped into his nest.

Fawnstep followed him and hovered at the edge of the quiet, shadowy space. “I’m sorry,” she mewed. “I know we’ll never understand the ways of Twolegs. But if we could just figure out what they’re doing, we might know how much danger we’re in.”

Cloudstar looked at her. “Have you received any more omens?” He was reluctantly starting to acknowledge the headless and wingless prey as a warning of what was happening now.

Fawnstep blinked. “No more omens, but my dreams are full of darkness and falling trees and the screams of kits.” She shuddered as she spoke, and Cloudstar felt a stab of pity for his gentle, intuitive medicine cat.

“I think all our dreams will be like that for a while,” he murmured. “Let me rest for a bit, and tell Buzzardtail to get on with organizing the patrols. We’ll hunt as normal, tell him.” He tucked his nose beneath his tail and closed his eyes as he listened to Fawnstep pad softly out of the den.

Cloudstar had barely dozed off when Stoatfur woke him up, prodding him with one paw. “Sorry to disturb you, Cloudstar,” he mewed. “Buzzardtail asked me to lead a border patrol, but with three of the apprentices out of action, I need you to make up the numbers.”

Cloudstar hauled himself stiffly out of his nest and stretched each leg in turn. “Okay,” he meowed. “Let’s go.”

He let Stoatfur take the lead, and walked beside Quailheart and Rainleap as they headed into the dense trees that lay between the camp and the border with ThunderClan. The yellow monsters rumbled in the distance, and where the ground was bare of leaf mulch, Cloudstar could feel the earth trembling beneath his paws. Where are they taking the trees? And why? The cats were used to fir trees being harvested by Twolegs, but not the trees that shed their leaves in the coldest seasons.

Stoatfur directed Rainleap to refresh the first border mark they came to, on a tree stump covered with ivy. At the next, a twisted hazel tree, Stoatfur nodded to Cloudstar, offering him the task. Cloudstar stepped forward, enjoying the role of a warrior rather than leader. He was about to rejoin the patrol when a hiss through the bracken stopped him.

“Patrolling the borders again, Cloudstar?” The bracken rustled and a dark ginger tom stepped through. “Seedpelt told me she’d seen you here recently. Is SkyClan lacking in warriors?”

Cloudstar forced his fur to stay flat. “There is no reason why a Clan leader shouldn’t patrol with his warriors,” he growled. “After all, isn’t that what you’re doing here, Redstar?”

The ThunderClan leader flicked his tail as if he was bored of the subject and padded forward until he was almost muzzle to muzzle with Cloudstar. “What’s all this noise we hear coming from your territory?” he asked, leaning close to peer into Cloudstar’s eyes. “Is there trouble in SkyClan?” His yellow eyes gleamed hungrily.

Behind him, Cloudstar heard Quailheart snarl. “No, no trouble at all,” Cloudstar replied. “Just some Twolegs playing with monsters beyond the far boundary. My Clanmates know better than to fret about every little thing a Twoleg does. Is the noise making your warriors nervous, Redstar?”

The ThunderClan leader curled his lip, and Cloudstar felt a small stab of satisfaction that he had gotten under Redstar’s fur. “Nothing scares ThunderClan warriors!” Redstar growled.

Cloudstar turned to leave. “If they have any sense, they should be more wary of SkyClan warriors!” he called over his shoulder. His Clanmates fell in behind him as he stalked away from the hazel tree, leaving Redstar glaring after them.

Once out of sight of the ThunderClan cat, Cloudstar stepped off the path to let Stoatfur take the lead again. The orange-and-white tom looked anxious. “Don’t you think you should have told Redstar the truth?” he meowed. “That our border has been destroyed, and we have lost territory?”

Cloudstar stared at him. “Have moths got into your brain? Why would I let ThunderClan know there is anything wrong?”

Stoatfur scraped one paw over the ground. “Because if the Twolegs destroy much more of the forest, we might need ThunderClan’s help.”

“ThunderClan warriors can’t chase off Twolegs and monsters!” Rainleap snapped. “I’d rather die than ask them for help!”

Cloudstar twitched his ears. “That’s a little extreme, Rainleap. But you’re right: SkyClan will fight its own battles.”

“What about the territory that used to belong to us?” Stoatfur persisted, nodding toward the dense strip of oak trees just beyond the SkyClan scent marks. “If we lose much more from the far side of our hunting grounds, we should ask ThunderClan to give it back.”

Cloudstar bristled. “SkyClan can survive without it. I will never go groveling to Redstar to get us out of trouble, and we can’t go back on Duskstar’s decision to let them have that territory. It would be like challenging all our ancestors, as well as the warrior code.” He gazed at each of his warriors in turn, wincing at their troubled eyes and ruffled pelts. I have to stay strong for them. “SkyClan will survive, without the help of ThunderClan. We are strong, skillful, and more honorable than any of the five Clans of the forest. Trust me, warriors. The Twolegs will not destroy our home.”

By the time they returned to the camp, the sun was high, blazing down through the trees. Cloudstar headed straight for the stream at the edge of the camp, just beyond the elders’ den, and took a long drink. His pelt felt itchy and dusty, and his legs ached, but he had insisted on double-checking all the border marks. He didn’t trust Redstar. Cloudstar was beginning to fear he had been too relaxed about letting ThunderClan warriors cross the border by a few paw steps, in the interest of keeping things peaceful with their closest neighbor. Now he wanted to maintain a much stricter border, with more frequent patrols and marks refreshed three times a day, not just twice.

Padding back into the clearing, Cloudstar’s belly rumbled. He trotted over to the fresh-kill pile and stopped short with a yelp of dismay. There was only a tough-looking starling and the remains of a vole under the elderflower tree. “Haven’t the hunting patrols returned yet?” he called to Weaselwhisker, who was sunning himself on the tree stump in the center of the clearing.

Weaselwhisker lifted his head and peered over the edge of the stump. “Yes, and gone out again,” he reported.

“And this is all they caught?” Cloudstar exclaimed.

Weaselwhisker nodded. “They said the woods where the trees have fallen are empty, and the rest of the territory is so noisy that prey is being frightened away from there, as well.”

Cloudstar cursed under his breath. “I’ll go out myself,” he told Weaselwhisker. Perhaps one cat alone would have a better chance of stalking nervous prey. Ignoring the pangs in his belly, he turned away from the fresh-kill pile and headed back into the woods. The trees hummed with the noise of the yellow monsters. It drowned out the rustling of the leaves, the creaking of branches, and any sound of birds or squirrels that might offer good hunting. Cloudstar felt a worm of alarm squirm in his belly. There must be something we can eat! Suddenly feeling impatient at being trapped on the ground, he leaped up the trunk of the closest tree and hauled himself into the branches.

He could still hear the monsters up here, but now the leaves whispered around his ears, and a soft breeze lifted his fur. Cloudstar pressed his ear to the bark and heard the tiniest scratching sound. Squirrel! Lifting his head, he waited for a moment, opening his jaws so that the scents of the forest flooded in. His prey was farther up the tree, on one of the thinnest branches. SkyClan warriors tended to avoid hunting at the tops of the trees because it was more dangerous, with the branches much less able to bear their weight, but hunger quelled Cloudstar’s nerves. He clawed his way upward, stretching his tail behind him to keep his balance. There was a desperate scrabble above him as the squirrel spotted Cloudstar launching himself up, but Cloudstar put on an extra burst of speed and slammed one of his front paws into the tiny fluffy creature before it had a chance to run.

He studied his catch disappointedly. It was hardly old enough to be out of its nest, and wouldn’t feed an elder let alone a warrior. But it was a start. Peering down through the leaves, Cloudstar carefully dropped the squirrel between the branches, then scampered down the trunk to bury it beneath a heap of earth and twigs until he collected it later.

He hunted until the sunbeams slanted low through the trees and the first star appeared in the hazy sky. He was exhausted, his pelt ruffled and filthy, and the stiffness along his spine had sharpened to a fierce burn. But all he had to add to his squirrel was a blackbird, plump enough but hardly a good meal for more than two cats. Unearthing the squirrel, Cloudstar dragged his fresh-kill back to the camp.

Birdflight was waiting for him on the far side of the brambles. “Where have you been? Weaselwhisker said you went out hunting on your own!”

Cloudstar nodded. “Let me put these on the fresh-kill pile, and let’s eat together.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Birdflight meowed. “I’m sorry, I should have saved some for you.” Cloudstar was about to protest when his gaze fell on the pile beneath the elderflower tree. There were a few scraps that might have been the vole he had seen earlier, but nothing else. He spun around to face Birdflight. “Has every cat eaten?”

She flinched at his fierce tone. “I think so,” she mewed. “Petalfall shared hers with Hazelwing and the kits. She said she wasn’t hungry.”

Cloudstar curled his lip. “She’s said that before.”

Birdflight’s eyes widened. “You think she’s deliberately letting the other cats eat her share?”

Cloudstar nodded. “But if there isn’t enough food to go around, we’ll all have to go hungry for a while. Just until the prey comes back. Buzzardtail!” He called to his deputy, who was sharing tongues with Fernpelt outside the warriors’ den. “From now on, we’ll eat once a day, at dusk. There isn’t enough prey for two meals a day.”

Buzzardtail looked startled. “We’ll starve!”

“No, we won’t,” Cloudstar snapped, fighting the panic rising inside his chest. “We survive on one meal during leaf-bare. Why should this be different?”

“Because we need to eat more in the warm seasons in order to survive leaf-bare!” Buzzardtail pointed out. “We won’t have the strength to hunt if we’re hungry all the time.”

“Then figure out a different way to hunt!” Cloudstar hissed. He whirled around and stalked to his den. They look to me for answers, but how am I supposed to conjure prey out of an empty forest?

There were soft paw steps behind him, and Birdflight followed him into the den. “Cloudstar, I’m worried about you.”

“Well, I’m worried about everyone,” Cloudstar muttered, circling in his nest to flatten the moss.

“That’s your duty, as our leader,” Birdflight mewed. “But I just have to worry about you—and our kits, when they come. Cloudstar, they need their father! If you work yourself to death before they arrive, I’ll have to raise them alone! Please, take care of yourself for their sake, if nothing else.”

Cloudstar reached out and rested his muzzle on Birdflight’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I will look after myself, I promise. And the rest of the Clan. Everything will be fine when the monsters leave and the prey comes back.”

Birdflight squeezed in beside him. Cloudstar shuffled to the edge of the nest to make room for her swollen belly. “Do you really believe SkyClan will survive this?” Birdflight murmured as she settled against him.

“Of course,” Cloudstar purred. “StarClan would not have made me leader if they did not know for certain that I would be able to save my Clan. Now sleep, my precious. Our kits need us both to be strong.”