The First Battle

Chapter 5

“Hurry up, Alder!” Clear Sky pounded down the slope. He leaped the ditch at the bottom and, landing smoothly, glanced over his shoulder.

Birch was galloping toward him, his small paws sending leaf litter flying. Alder raced behind, half-running, half-slithering down the slope, no bigger than a baby rabbit. She looked more like prey than a hunter.

She has to grow up sometime.

Clear Sky pushed on, climbing the rise beyond, pleasure pulsing beneath his fur. Petal had begged him not to take the kits out to train. Worry-worm! He had told her that, in the mountains, kits were fighting snowstorms by the time they were two moons old. He couldn’t let the forest make his cats soft.

“Birch! Help!” A small thud made Clear Sky turn.

Alder had disappeared.

Birch was leaning into the ditch, tugging something. With a grunt, he heaved his littermate out by her scruff and let go. “Are you okay?”

Alder scrambled to her paws and shook out her short, fluffy fur. “I’m fine.”

“Hurry up, you two!” Clear Sky rolled his eyes. Were they going to fall into every ditch between here and the big beech tree?

“Can we go slower?” Birch called up the slope.

Is that possible? “Slow cats get caught!” Clear Sky called back. He wasn’t going to indulge them. They’d have to toughen up. He turned and ran.

He was hardly out of breath by the time he reached the big beech. It towered above the other trees in this part of the forest. He stopped at its thick roots and waited for the kits to catch up. Above him, birds twittered in the bright green canopy. Beyond, sunlight glimmered.

Clear Sky pricked his ears impatiently. At last he heard small paws thrumming over the dry earth. A moment later, Birch and Alder hurtled from a clump of ferns and began scrambling up the slope toward him. Their pelts were slick against their bodies, scraped flat by ferns and brambles, their ears pressed to their head.

“We made it!” Birch stumbled, puffing, to a halt in front of Clear Sky.

Alder stopped a tail-length behind, her flanks heaving.

“You took your time.”

“We couldn’t run any faster,” Alder panted.

“Our legs aren’t as long as yours,” Birch pointed out.

“But you’re not carrying much weight,” Clear Sky countered. He padded around the kits as they struggled to get their breath back. “Not yet, anyway.” Was he being too hard on them? “If you keep training, one day you might be as strong as me.”

“Or stronger!” Birch stared at him, eyes bright.

Clear Sky grunted. “I doubt it.” He stopped and lifted his gaze. The warm season had wrapped the forest in a green haze. He flicked Birch’s spine with his tail-tip. “Wait here.”

“By himself?” Alder nosed past her brother.

“Of course!” Clear Sky thrust his muzzle close to hers, stifling a purr of amusement as she leaped back in surprise. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to play hide-and-seek.”

Alder blinked. “Hide-and-seek?”

Birch frowned. “I thought you were going to teach us fighting skills.”

“You think seeking isn’t a fighting skill?” Clear Sky dropped his mew to a whisper. “One day your enemies will hide when they hear you coming. You’ll need to know how to find them.”

Alder’s eyes grew round. “Are we going to hide while Birch waits here?”

“You’re a smart young kit.” Clear Sky lifted his nose to point at the sun where it dazzled through the branches. “Birch.” With a jerk of his muzzle, he motioned the young tom kit to follow his gaze. “When the sun has lifted to the next branch, come and look for us.”

Birch drew himself up. “Okay.”

“Come on, Alder.” Clear Sky bounded down the slope. “Let’s find somewhere he’ll never think of looking.”

“Do you already know somewhere?” Her paws pattered over the leaves.

“Hush! We mustn’t give him clues.” He slowed his pace. She’d need some energy left for the next part of the training session. He crossed a dry streambed, followed a swath of brambles, and headed into a dip crowded with ferns. Climbing out the other side, he zigzagged among the trees until he reached a ridge. A clearing lay beyond. He’d picked it out the day before for training. The ground was clear; the slender birch trees that encircled it were widely spaced.

“There’s nowhere to hide here!” Alder caught him up and stared around the bare clearing. “Why didn’t we stop in the ferns?”

“Pick a tree, and crouch behind it,” Clear Sky ordered. “When Birch comes, you’ll need space to attack him.”

Alder blinked at him. “Attack him? I thought we were playing hide-and-seek.”

“We’re training, remember?” Why is she arguing?

“I won’t do it.” Alder dug her paws into the crumbly earth. “You didn’t warn Birch.”

“He needs to learn!” Clear Sky snapped, swallowing back an angry hiss.

“It’s not fair.” Alder stared with round eyes. “He won’t be ready for it.” Was she trembling? “It feels wrong.”

She’s brave. He couldn’t help feeling a prick of admiration for the kit. It took courage to argue with her leader. But she had a lot of growing up to do. “I know your instinct tells you that cats stalk their enemy, that they don’t hide and jump out at them. But times are changing. We must learn to outgrow instincts that don’t help us anymore.” He padded around her. “In battles, it won’t always be the strongest cats with the sharpest claws who survive.”

Alder glanced down at her small paws.

Clear Sky went on. “The smartest cats with the fastest moves will have the best chance at victory. Your instincts might tell you that these tactics aren’t honorable. But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned since I came down from the mountains, honor means nothing to the dead.” He stopped and leaned closer. “We must stay ahead of our enemies.”

Alder swallowed. “Do we have enemies?”

Clear Sky swished his tail and padded toward a birch trunk. “Every cat who wants to take prey from our land is an enemy. Learn what I teach you and you’ll be safe.” He climbed onto a root, and sat down. “Birch will be on his way soon. You’d better pick a tree to hide behind. But first—” He scanned the forest floor until he spotted a dip in the earth still wet with morning dew. “Roll yourself in that mud.” He jerked his nose toward it.”

Alder sniffed. “Why?”

“To disguise your scent.” Couldn’t she guess? “Otherwise Birch will smell you the moment he reaches the clearing.”

Alder stopped beside the muddy dip and wrinkled her nose. “It smells of rotting leaves.”

“Good.” Clear Sky idly scraped a strip of bark from the root. “Get rolling.”

Screwing up her eyes, Alder padded into the mud and lay down. She wriggled on her back, flopping from side to side like a stranded fish, then leaped to her paws. “I stink!”

“But you’ve lost your scent,” Clear Sky reminded her. “Now pick a tree to hide behind.” He glanced at the sky. The sun had moved. Would Birch be on his way yet? Training kits was slow work. But it would be worth it. “Hurry up!” Alder was turning in circles behind a birch stem, her ears flicking. “You should be in position by now.”

Her fur rippled along her mud-slicked spine. She padded uneasily to the next truck and sniffed the roots, then twisted suddenly and dug her nose into her flank as though she were chasing a flea.

“What’s wrong?” Clear Sky bit back anger. “Just hide, will you?”

“But my pelt feels weird with all this gunk on it.”

Clenching his teeth, Clear Sky hopped from the root and padded toward her. “Crouch here.” He jabbed a claw into a gap between two roots. “Stay low so Birch won’t see you.”

She squirmed onto her belly between the roots. “It still feels wrong,” she muttered. “He thinks we’re playing hide-and-seek and you want me to attack him.”

“I want to see if you can surprise him.” Irritation itched beneath Clear Sky’s pelt.

“I could surprise him without smelling like rotten leaves.” She pressed her belly to the floor until she looked like another muddy root sticking up from the earth.

“If Birch was a real enemy, smelling like rotten leaves might be the best weapon you have.”

“But he’s not a real enemy.” She sat up straight, destroying her camouflage.

Clear Sky stiffened with frustration.

“Why can’t all the cats just be friends?” Alder asked. “Just because we live in different places doesn’t mean we have to fight.”

Stop arguing! Before he could stop himself, Clear Sky swiped a paw at her. He sheathed his claws a moment before he struck her ear, but she staggered from the fierceness of the blow and tripped over a root. “No cat wants to fight,” he growled. “But we have to survive! It’s better to train for a battle that never comes, than to die in one you aren’t prepared for.” Rage churned in his belly. “All I’m trying to do is make sure you can win if you have to fight!”

Alder scrambled to her paws and backed away. Her ear twitched where he’d hit it.

“Don’t look so scared!” Clear Sky forced his hackles smooth. He hopped over the root and landed in front of her. She froze like a rabbit and stared up at him, trembling as he touched his muzzle to her head. “I’m sorry, okay? But you’ll understand when you grow up and have kits of your own to protect. A good leader will do whatever it takes to keep his cats safe.”

As he spoke, a dog’s bark rang through the trees. Alder ducked out from beneath him, her ears swiveling as the dog barked again. “It’s coming from the big beech!” Her eyes glittered with terror. “Birch is there by himself!”

She hared away from Clear Sky and hurtled across the forest floor.

Clear Sky pelted after her, showering leaves behind as he pounded between the trees. He pulled past Alder, thundering up the slope as the forest rose ahead.

“Save him!” Alder’s squeal rang behind.

Through the ferns, past the bramble and over the dry streambed, Clear Sky ran, ears flattened against the dog’s barking. It was frenzied now, as though it had spotted prey.

Clear Sky’s heart seemed to burst as he pelted on. The ground trembled beneath his paws. A flash of brown fur showed on the slope ahead. The dog!

Large and broad shouldered, it thumped toward the big beech. Its teeth glistened as it barked with excitement.

“Birch!” Clear Sky hissed the kit’s name. Where is he?

The dog was circling the beech now, its wild eyes staring up. It gave a long, full-throated bark that rose into a gleeful howl.

Clear Sky slowed, following the dog’s excited gaze.

Clinging to the trunk, a few tail-lengths above the dog’s muzzle, was Birch. Brown-and-white pelt bushed, eyes wide with terror, the kit pressed himself hard against the bark.

Clear Sky stopped, his heart lurching as the dog leaped, drool flying as it clamped its teeth shut a whisker beneath Birch’s tail.

“It’ll kill him!” Alder’s horrified shriek took Clear Sky by surprise. She skidded to a halt at his side. “You have to save him.”

Clear Sky hesitated. He couldn’t fight the dog head-on. He’d be killed. It was bigger than a badger. As he stared, his mind whirling, a desperate yowl sounded through the trees. Pale fur flashed at the edge of his vision.

Petal!

The yellow she-cat was racing up the slope. She was heading straight for the dog. She ran harder as she neared it.

What’s she doing? Clear Sky stared. Is she mad? She’ll get herself killed.

“Petal!” Alder wailed beside him.

Suddenly, Petal veered.

She’s going to distract it! Clear Sky understood in a flash that Petal was planning to lead the dog away from Birch. “I’m coming!” Energy surging, he dived forward. Two cats would be harder to chase. Surging up the slope, he neared the dog as its gaze flicked toward Petal. Delight flared in its eyes. Its paws scrambled to find a grip on the leaf-strewn earth as it lunged for her.

She swerved, swooping past it like a snow eagle.

The dog pelted after her.

Clear Sky yowled. The dog slowed, glancing over its shoulder. Confusion shadowed its gaze as it saw him, then it turned back to Petal and pounded on. Clear Sky pushed hard against the forest floor. Petal was streaking ahead, the dog at her tail. But Clear Sky was gaining. Chest burning, he fixed his eyes on the dog. Pulling close, he leaped, raking his claws along the dog’s flank, before landing beside its shoulder without missing a paw step. As the dog stumbled, yelping with pain, he raced past it and caught up with Petal. “This way!” He swerved. Brambles crowded the forest ahead, better for prey than for hunters—and they were prey now.

Petal’s paws thrummed beside him. The dog’s foul breath washed over them.

The brambles loomed closer.

Petal glanced at him. “Through or around?”

Clear Sky nodded to the fox trail he knew cut through the middle. They could squeeze through it easily. The dog would have to go around.

Petal’s eyes lit as she saw the small gap in the prickly branches. Clear Sky slowed to let her dive through first and followed. Thorns scraped his pelt. Tendrils whipped his nose. He pressed on, Petal’s tail flicking a muzzle-length ahead. Swiveling his ears, he listened for the dog.

Big paws slewed to a halt at the bramble’s edge. The dog whined angrily before taking off again.

“It’s going around,” Petal warned.

“We’ll make it to the other side before it does,” Clear Sky promised.

“There are Twolegs on the moorside!” Petal screeched. “Let’s lead it there. They might distract it.”

“Okay.” He burst from the bramble a moment after Petal. They charged between the trees, the dog some way behind. It had been slowed by the detour around the bramble, but it was not giving up easily.

Ahead, light showed as the woods thinned. Another rise and they’d break cover from the trees.

Petal’s fur streamed in the wind as she ran. Clear Sky fought for breath, relief surging as they crested the rise and surged down the slope. Bursting from the trees, he saw a small pack of Twolegs.

In brightly colored pelts, they moved through the ferns on the moor slope.

“Let’s get as close to them as we can!” Clear Sky yowled. He plunged into the ferns as the dog exploded from the forest behind them.

The Twolegs spun, their pink faces reddening with surprise. One began to bellow; another put its paw to its lips and shrilled a piercing alarm call.

The dog’s head jerked toward the Twolegs. Its ears pricked, surprise lighting its gaze.

The Twolegs called louder.

With a rush of joy, Clear Sky saw the dog swerve. Paws skidding over the grass, it dived through the ferns and headed for the Twolegs.

“Let’s get out of here,” Petal puffed. She turned and raced back toward the forest. Clear Sky chased after her, relief pulsing so fiercely that he hardly heard the wind in his ears. She didn’t stop running until she reached the big beech.

Clear Sky stumbled to a halt behind her, heart pounding.

“Where are they?” Petal was darting back and forth across the slope, her pelt bristling. “Alder! Birch!”

A mournful squeak sounded from above. “Petal!”

Clear Sky looked up and saw Birch and Alder huddled in the crook of the lowest branch. Eyes wide, trembling, they were pressed together like fledglings.

“It’s safe to come down,” he told them.

Petal stopped beside him. “The dog’s gone,” she called gently.

Birch stretched his forepaws down the trunk and, clinging like a squirrel, slithered down headfirst. Alder lowered herself more gracefully tail-first, still trembling as she reached the ground.

“You’re safe.” Petal licked her roughly while Birch pressed hard against her.

“Can we go home now?” Birch begged.

Alder shook out her fur. The mud had dried into crumbs and she shuddered as they sprinkled onto the forest floor. “I’ve had enough of training.”

“Of course you have.” Petal wrapped her tail over the young kit’s spine. “Let’s get you home for a rest.”

As she led them downslope toward the camp, one on either side, Clear Sky caught his breath. “You’ve learned a lot for one day,” he called after them.

Birch glanced over his shoulder. “We learned how to climb trees.”

Alder pressed closer against Petal. “We were supposed to be learning how to attack other cats,” she told the she-cat shakily.

“Really?” Petal slowed and licked some of the mud from Alder’s pelt.

Alder nodded. “Clear Sky wanted me to jump out at Birch when he came looking for me.”

Clear Sky caught them up. “It’s important to know how to sneak up on an enemy.”

Petal glanced at him accusingly. “It might have been better to teach them how not to get snuck up on.” She scooped the kits closer with her tail. “They’re too young for battle training.”

Birch pulled away from her, chin high. “I’m not.”

Clear Sky purred. “Of course you’re not.” He shook out his pelt, his paws still sparking with exhilaration from the chase. He’d saved the kits, and protected his group—just as he had promised he would.

They’re too young for battle training. Petal’s words echoed in his ears. A growl rumbled in his throat. No cat’s too young to fight. Clear Sky paused, unease rippling beneath his pelt. Would Gray Wing agree? Or Quiet Rain? Or his beloved Bright Stream?

A sudden chill pierced his fur. He shivered and hurried to catch up with Petal and the kits.

Anxious yowls rang between the trees.

Clear Sky jerked up his head. Blinking away sleep, he scrambled to his paws. “What’s going on?” He scanned the camp from his nest in the hollow of the slope. His heart lurched. He’d only closed his eyes for an afternoon nap; now the clearing was golden in the setting sun. He screwed up his eyes as shafts of light sliced between the trees.

“Clear Sky!” Falling Feather was pacing near the brambles that edged the far end of the camp. Quick Water had climbed the slope above his nest and was peering into the trees. Fircone and Nettle stood in the middle of the clearing, square on, facing the gap where the brambles opened into forest. Beside them, Leaf showed his teeth, a growl rumbling in his throat.

Beyond the brambles, paw steps scuffed the earth. The scent of strange cats rolled into the clearing.

Clear Sky leaped from his nest and crossed it. Pushing between Fircone and Leaf, he glared at the opening.

Falling Feather stopped pacing, her hackles rising. Nettle hissed as two cats padded into camp.

A she-cat with short gray fur blinked at them with bright blue eyes.

Beside her, a mangy tom lifted his tail. “We’ve found you.”

Clear Sky marched forward. “Found us?”

“I’m Dew,” the gray she-cat told him. “This is Thorn.” She nodded to the tom.

He dipped his head, tufts of fur hanging from his brown pelt. “We were hoping you’d have space in your camp for two more rogues.”

Surprise pulsed through Clear Sky. “You want to join us?” Pride edged his mew. His reputation was clearly spreading.

Leaf narrowed his eyes. “We don’t need more cats.”

Quick Water scrambled down from the slope and stopped beside Falling Feather. “We have enough rogues, thanks.”

Nettle stared at Thorn. “He looks like he’s sick.”

Thorn lifted his head and shook out his pelt. Fur clouded around him. “I’m just molting.”

Clear Sky stood still. His thoughts whirled. New cats would mean more fighters. Of course, the tom would have to smarten himself up. The forest cats weren’t going to take in sickly strays.

Fircone paced around the two strangers, his gaze flitting over them. “We don’t need more mouths to feed.”

“We can feed ourselves, thanks,” Dew told him.

Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. We’ll need more territory if we have more cats. He swallowed back a purr.

Falling Feather padded to his side. “Shall I chase them off?” she asked quietly.

Clear Sky looked at her, rounding his eyes with surprise. “Why would I want you to chase them off? We need allies, and these cats look like they can take care of themselves.”

Falling Feather backed away, pelt pricking. “But I thought—”

“Let me do the thinking.” Clear Sky swished his tail. “I think we should consider their request.”

Leaf tipped his head. “Why?”

Clear Sky gazed slowly around at the cats. He knew he must appear reasonable, and not let Dew and Thorn think that they could just walk in and find a soft place to sleep. “Leaf’s question is a good one.” He turned to the strangers. “Why should we take you in?”

“We can hunt prey for you as well as ourselves,” Thorn told him.

Dew nodded. “Thorn looks scrawny, but he’s wily, and as fast as a ferret.”

“Dew’s a good fighter,” Thorn offered. “No cat’s taken prey from her since she was a kit.”

Clear Sky nodded slowly. They sounded promising. “Anything else?” He wasn’t going to make this easy.

Dew and Thorn glanced at each other.

“We have information you might find useful,” Dew meowed softly.

Clear Sky pricked his ears. “About what?”

Thorn’s whiskers twitched. “We’ve been watching your rivals.”

Clear Sky snorted. “We have no rivals.”

Dew’s eyes glittered. “Really? What about the cats who live on the moor? The one they call Gray Wing?”

“And the orange tom with the big white paws?” Thorn added.

“Thunder?” Quick Water darted forward, ears pricking. “How is he?”

“Is he okay?” Falling Feather padded to her friend’s side, eyes bright.

Thunder has gone back to Gray Wing? Clear Sky glared at Falling Feather. “Be quiet.” He snapped his gaze back to Dew. “What have you seen?”

“We’ve watched their kits practicing battle skills.” Dew stared at Clear Sky, unblinking.

“They’ve learned how to attack a dead rabbit,” Thorn sneered. “And the older cats were discussing how to turn hunting moves into battle moves.”

Clear Sky forced the fur along his spine to stay flat. What was Gray Wing up to?

Thorn went on. “They were about to practice fighting, but a black cat interrupted.”

“Do you mean Tall Shadow?” Falling Feather padded closer.

Thorn shrugged. “Maybe.”

Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. “Why did the black cat interrupt?”

Dew shrugged. “She and Gray Wing made some kind of speech from a rock. Then the rest of the cats started cheering.”

Thorn frowned with distaste. “They were chanting names. Then every cat ate.”

“Every cat?” Clear Sky curled his lip. “Was there enough prey?”

“More than enough,” Dew told him. “They had a heap of it and they gobbled it up like a pack of dogs.”

Clear Sky’s belly tightened. “It sounds like they’re preparing for battle.”

“Gray Wing wouldn’t start a battle!” Quiet Water gasped.

Wouldn’t he? Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. Gray Wing might be soft, but he was no fool. He’d fight if he thought it was the right thing to do. And yet, the last time they’d spoken, Gray Wing had backed away from challenging Clear Sky directly over Bumble’s death. Why show hostility now?

Thunder!

Clear Sky stiffened. Was that why his son had left? Had he gone to warn Gray Wing that Clear Sky was planning to expand his borders?

Jealousy burned beneath his pelt. Had Thunder only come to the forest in the first place to spy for Gray Wing?

Traitor!

He’d been Gray Wing’s cat all along! I trusted him because he was my son! Hackles rising, Clear Sky felt a growl rise in his throat. I’m a fool!

“Can we join you then?” Dew’s calm mew jolted him from his thoughts.

“Yes!” Pulsing with rage, Clear Sky barged past the rogues and headed into the woods. I was right to set boundaries. I’m right to train my cats for battle. War was coming. He could feel it. Gray Wing was on the move.

Clear Sky’s claws spiked leaves as he marched through the woods. If Gray Wing thinks he’s going to take us by surprise, then he can think again! We’ll be ready. He halted and stared between the trees. Beyond, the moor rose like a spine arching against the setting sun. You want battle? He pictured Gray Wing training his cats to fight. I’ll give you war.