The First Battle

Chapter 7

Clear Sky curled his claws into the bark of the jutting oak branch, fighting to keep his pelt smooth. What’s Thunder doing here? He kept his gaze fixed on his son, giving nothing away as he steadied his breath.

I trusted you, and you betrayed me.

Clenching his teeth, he pushed himself slowly to his paws and jumped down into the clearing. Thunder faced him. Jackdaw’s Cry hung back, staying close to Falling Feather. Trust her to be mixed up in this.

“She brought them here, not me.” Petal darted forward, ears flat as she jerked her muzzle toward the white she-cat.

Falling Feather lifted her muzzle. “Do you want to hear what they have to say?” She stared at Clear Sky, unflinching.

“It depends what it is.” Clear Sky slowly circled Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry. These cats should be afraid of him. They’d crossed the border. They walked into his camp. Let them know they aren’t safe here. He tightened his circle, nudging Jackdaw’s Cry with his shoulder as he passed.

The black tom leaped back, hissing. “Don’t touch me!”

He’s spooked. Satisfaction surged through Clear Sky as he thrust his muzzle close, one eye on Jackdaw’s Cry’s unsheathed claws. “Attack me if you want,” he challenged. He flicked his tail around the forest cats. Nettle and Fircone had padded closer. Thorn and Dew watched, their bristling pelts showing they were ready to fight if necessary. “You’ll die if you do.”

Jackdaw’s Cry’s eyes sparked with fear.

“Stop trying to scare him.” Thunder’s mew was sharp. “If you don’t want to hear why we came, then we’ll leave.”

“If I let you.” Clear Sky turned on his son. Was that disappointment darkening Thunder’s gaze? Pain gripped his heart like claws. Does he actually think I’ve let him down? He squared his shoulders. “Okay,” he growled. “Let’s talk. But not here. I know somewhere we won’t be overheard.”

Dew pricked her ears.

Clear Sky growled at her. “Earn your place with us, and I might show it to you.” He turned, lashing his tail, and climbed the slope past his nest. “Falling Feather, you come too,” he called, not looking back. She needed to see he was in charge. Pushing under the hawthorn, he broke into open woodland. Ferns lined a ditch ahead. He leaped over them, landing lightly on the other side, and padded across the dusty forest floor.

Paws thudded behind as, one at a time, the others leaped the ditch. He glanced over his shoulder. Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry were flanking Falling Feather like an escort. They are the intruders! A chill ran along his spine. Should he have brought more forest cats to stand guard while they talked?

Don’t be flea-brained. They wouldn’t dare harm you here.

Clear Sky led them over a rise and followed a dry streambed until it reached a wide oak. It was tall and ancient, its gnarled branches bare. A few leaves sprouted defiantly at the tips, but the tree would soon be dead. Its crooked roots snaked into the dusty bank. Water hadn’t flowed here since the end of the cold season, but when it had, it had hollowed a passage beneath the trunk. Clear Sky ducked into it and squeezed up through a hole into the hollow center of the rotting tree. He stayed near the hole, his tail touching the trunk, and waited for the others to worm their way after him.

Thunder’s head popped up first. The young tom glanced around, eyes wide. Light from knotholes striped his head with gold. He scrambled onto the smooth earth that floored the hollow and faced Clear Sky.

With a jolt, Clear Sky noticed that Thunder was bigger than he was now. He straightened, puffing out his fur while Falling Feather and Jackdaw’s Cry wriggled inside.

Clear Sky felt safe in the confines of the tree. There was enough room for the four cats to sit, spines pressed against the trunk, a tail-length between their muzzles. But it would be hard for any cat to fight skillfully here. And being closest to the hole in the bottom would ensure him an easy escape route.

Jackdaw’s Cry glanced warily up. A circle of light showed far above. His black pelt was pricking. Thunder shifted his paws as though he couldn’t get comfortable.

Clear Sky watched them with satisfaction. I don’t want you to get comfortable.

“What have you come to say?” he asked them bluntly.

Thunder returned his gaze. “Gray Wing wants to meet you by the four trees in a few days.”

Clear Sky’s ears twitched. “Why?”

“To talk,” Jackdaw’s Cry grunted.

Anger pressed in Clear Sky’s throat. Did they think he was such a mouse-brain? He knew Gray Wing was preparing for battle. Why go through the pretense of talking?

“Gray Wing is worried about the borders,” Jackdaw’s Cry went on. “It’s not what we planned when we left the mountains. We’ve never lived with borders before. It’s making the cats nervous.”

Clear Sky swallowed back frustration. If they wanted to pretend, he’d pretend. “Doesn’t Gray Wing realize yet that borders keep cats safe? This isn’t the mountain. The land stretches forever. Borders help us know where to roam and where to hunt. It’s the best way to avoid quarrels over prey.”

Thunder frowned. “It would be if you didn’t keep shifting them.”

“I only want my cats to flourish,” Clear Sky told him. “Just as Gray Wing wants his own cats to thrive.”

“Flourish?” Jackdaw’s Cry curled his lip. “You sent Frost away to die. You trained Jagged Peak until you crippled him. You have orphan kits because you killed their mother. Do you call that ‘flourishing’?”

Clear Sky thrust his muzzle toward the black tom, ignoring the guilt jabbing at his belly. “You know nothing! You listen to gossip like an old queen with nothing better to do.”

Jackdaw’s Cry gazed back, unflinching. “I know what I see and what I hear. And none of the news from the forest has been good since you claimed it as your own.”

Clear Sky stiffened against the fury pulsing through his blood. How dare this cat judge him? News? He flashed Thunder an accusing glare. It was you who spread it!

His own son had betrayed him!

Falling Feather turned to her brother. “We are flourishing,” she told him earnestly. “Our tribe grows bigger by the day.”

“You’re no tribe!” Jackdaw’s Cry flashed back, shock showing in his eyes. “You’re a band of strays and rogues!”

Falling Feather bristled. “We joined together to help each other,” she meowed fiercely. “We share prey and protect each other. We’re safer that way!”

Thunder’s tail swished against the trunk. “We didn’t come here to argue,” he growled. “We came only to tell you that Gray Wing wants to talk by the four trees.”

Clear Sky frowned, angry at the bold way Thunder stared straight at him.

“Will you meet him or not?”

“I’ll meet him.” Clear Sky tipped his head. If Gray Wing was preparing for battle, it would be interesting to hear what he had to say. “But what we decide on that day will be final. No changing minds. No going back.” Would Gray Wing admit that he was preparing to fight? Clear Sky’s whiskers quivered. How far was his brother prepared to carry his lie? Was the meeting intended as a distraction or would it bring an open declaration of conflict?

Either way, he’d be ready. And he was going to make sure Gray Wing kept his word. He eyed Jackdaw’s Cry, a plan flashing in his mind. If Gray Wing did try to trick him, he’d pay with the life of a camp mate.

“Let’s get back to the camp.” He dived down through the hole and squeezed out onto the dry streambed.

Trekking through the woods, he signaled Falling Feather to walk beside him. “You spoke well.” He praised her. He’d been impressed that she’d stood up for her new tribe. Perhaps she was loyal after all.

As he pushed beneath the hawthorn and leaped down the bank, Nettle hurried across the clearing.

“Is everything okay?” The young tom searched his gaze.

“It’s fine.” Clear Sky glanced back as Thunder and Jackdaw’s Cry followed Falling Feather into the clearing.

Fircone limped from the oak tree.

Clear Sky noticed Thunder staring anxiously at the tom’s swollen paw. “It’s just a scratch,” he growled. “My cats fight hard to defend our borders from passing strays. No cat makes the mistake of crossing our scent lines twice.”

Thunder’s gaze moved to Dew and Thorn, still sitting beside the bramble. “How did they make it across?” he asked.

“They asked permission.” Clear Sky padded toward them. “They wanted to join us.” Pleasure rippled though his pelt. “As did Snake.” He nodded toward the striped tabby tom, camouflaged in the shadows of the bramble.

Snake got to his paws and padded out. He was lean and sleek and had the sharp eye of a hunter. Clear Sky had been pleased when he’d come to the border, asking to join shortly after Dew and Thorn. The forest cats were flourishing, no matter what Jackdaw’s Cry claimed. He turned to the black moor cat. “Snake was a rogue in Twolegplace. But he preferred to join us,” he boasted. “He knew he’d be well fed here.”

Jackdaw’s Cry’s gaze strayed toward the piles of prey. “A little too well fed,” he grunted.

Clear Sky’s tail twitched irritably. Okay, so there was more prey here than they could eat. It’d start rotting soon and fill the camp with stench. But they weren’t dumb. They could bury carrion. Jackdaw’s Cry was missing the point. “Isn’t it better to have too much prey than not enough?”

Jackdaw’s Cry didn’t answer.

What was it about Gray Wing’s cats that made them so smug? Clear Sky scanned his own cats. At least they understood that life was harsh. “I’ve decided to meet with Gray Wing,” he told them.

“When?” Fircone’s eyes narrowed to slits.

Clear Sky paced. He realized they hadn’t discussed a specific time. “At full moon,” he decided. “In two days.” He stopped and stared at Jackdaw’s Cry. There was something else they hadn’t discussed. “This moor cat will remain here in the forest camp until after the meeting,” he growled. “If you must risk your leader, then they should risk something too.”

“No!” Thunder flattened his ears.

“It’s okay.” Jackdaw’s Cry stepped forward, his glance flicking toward Falling Feather. “I’ll stay if that’s what it takes.”

Clear Sky’s paws pricked with satisfaction. “Good.” He flicked his tail toward his camp mates. “If anything does happen to me at the meeting, you can decide what to do with Jackdaw’s Cry.” He noticed Thunder’s pelt ripple uneasily and his satisfaction deepened. “Don’t worry,” he purred to his son. “I’m sure they’ll be fair.” He dipped his head. The meeting had gone better than he’d hoped. “Thank you for coming. You can leave now. And Jackdaw’s Cry—” He turned his head toward the young black tom. Jackdaw’s Cry lifted his chin defiantly, but unease glittered in his gaze. “We appreciate your staying with us. We’ll make sure you’re well fed and safe. And we’ll only keep you until after I come home from the meeting.” There was no harm in making sure that Thunder understood the importance of his returning from the four trees safely.

Thunder curled his lip. “You can trust Gray Wing.” There was insolence in his mew.

Clear Sky watched him head out of camp. “Tell my brother that next time he should bring his message himself!” he called as Thunder disappeared behind the brambles. “Only kits hide.”

Clear Sky padded to the oak, clawing his way up the trunk, past the low branch he’d been sitting on earlier and up to the next. He leaned back and gazed to the top. This was the highest tree around, thick with leaves. Jumping to the next branch, then the next, he climbed higher and higher, his long claws hooking easily into the rugged bark. As the thick branches gave way to slender stems, he paused and peered through the leaves. From here, he could see the forest stretch to Twolegplace and beyond, the land curve toward the rolling horizon. There was more territory than he could ever have imagined while he lived among the craggy peaks of the mountains. And every tail-length teemed with prey. Here he could build a tribe of healthy, strong cats. No kit need ever go hungry; no mother need starve until her milk dried up. His heart quickened. Why did no cat seem to understand that this was all he wanted? He’d never wanted to do harm.

But he would do whatever it took to keep his cats safe.

If I’d known Misty had been fighting to protect Alder and Birch, I’d have gone easier on her. Agonizing emptiness opened in Clear Sky’s chest. Instead he’d killed her, and now Gray Wing and the other cats on the moor believed he’d killed Bumble too. How could he make peace with cats who believed he was a murderer? He closed his eyes, his thoughts spinning.

All I can do now is protect my own cats. He clung tight to the tree. There was no hope now of peacefully sharing this land. Determination surged through him. Unhooking his claws, he dropped onto the branch beneath. Slithering down the trunk, he called to Petal. She was sitting near the yew, Alder and Birch at her side. “Gather every cat!” She leaped to her paws. “We must prepare for battle!”

“Are you sure?” Petal stared as he leaped from the trunk and landed heavily on the ground. Her eyes were wide.

Clear Sky strode across the clearing, not even meeting her gaze. “Just do it.”