The Sun Trail

Chapter 14

As the cats shared Moon Shadow’s prey, Gray Wing thought that Clear Sky seemed sad and angry. He hadn’t spoken, except for a brief word of thanks to Moon Shadow, and he only took a couple of mouthfuls.

“You need to talk to your brother about Bright Stream,” Turtle Tail murmured into Gray Wing’s ear. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gray Wing responded, though he shrank from the idea of Clear Sky’s fury turned against him.

Later that day the rain stopped and the sky cleared as wind sent the clouds scudding away. Gray Wing spotted his brother climbing the slope of the hollow alone. Briefly he hesitated. You’ll never have a better chance than this, he told himself, setting out to follow.

Clear Sky raced across the moor in a direction Gray Wing hadn’t yet walked. Where is he going?

After a while, he realized that his brother was heading toward the river. Gray Wing had never seen it up close, and curiosity tingled through his pads as he heard the sound of thundering water.

Clear Sky reached the riverbank at the point where a waterfall crashed down over rocks, throwing up fountains of spray. Beyond the falls, the river ran through sheer walls of stone. The recent rain had left it noisy and foaming. The sound and sight of the tumbling water reminded Gray Wing of his home in the mountains.

Watching the river, Gray Wing briefly lost sight of Clear Sky before realizing his brother was climbing down one of the narrow paths that led to the water’s edge. Gray Wing followed, setting his paws carefully and hugging the rock face, away from the sheer drop into the river.

Clear Sky was in no hurry, and Gray Wing soon began to catch up. “Did you come here because it reminds you of our waterfall?” he asked him.

Startled, Clear Sky spun around. His paws skidded on the slick surface of the path, and he let out a squeal of alarm as he slid over the edge.

Gray Wing bounded forward, caution forgotten, and managed to grab his brother’s scruff before Clear Sky could plunge into the gorge. For a few heartbeats Clear Sky dangled above the turbulent water, his paws flailing helplessly, Gray Wing’s grip the only thing that kept him from falling. His terrified blue eyes gazed up into Gray Wing’s.

An image flashed into Gray Wing’s mind of how he had tried to cling to Bright Stream as the eagle dragged her away. “I won’t let you die too,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Confusion battled with the fear in Clear Sky’s eyes. “What…?”

With a mighty effort, Gray Wing hauled his brother upward until he could set his paws firmly on the path again. Clear Sky shook himself; his blue gaze was furious as he glared at Gray Wing. “You flea-brained idiot!” he snarled, his neck fur bristling. “Did you have to creep up on me like that?”

Gray Wing was still shaking from the thought of what could have happened. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Clear Sky glared at him for a moment longer, then let his fur lie flat again. “What did you mean, you won’t let me die too?” he asked.

Gray Wing took a deep breath. Then the words he had wanted to say for almost a moon tumbled out of him. “I can’t bear what happened to Bright Stream! I know it was my fault she died. I’ve wished over and over we could have switched places. I’m more sorry than I can ever tell you.”

Clear Sky’s eyes widened and he stared at Gray Wing in astonishment. “It wasn’t your fault she died!” he choked out. “The whole plan was my idea. I should never have let her go out to fight the eagles, not when she was carrying our kits. I killed her!”

Gray Wing stared at Clear Sky in disbelief, then took a pace forward so that he could push his muzzle into his brother’s shoulder fur. “Perhaps it was no cat’s fault,” he murmured, his voice rough with grief. “Just a terrible accident. We can’t both live our lives feeling guilty. Bright Stream wouldn’t want that. She loved you too much to want you to be unhappy.”

Gray Wing wasn’t sure that he was choosing the right words. He had been sunk so deeply in his own guilt for so long. But knowing that Clear Sky blamed himself, too, made him feel as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

We’ll still mourn Bright Stream, we’ll never forget her, but our lives will go on. Letting out a gusty sigh, Gray Wing gave his pelt a shake. “Why don’t we explore a bit farther downriver?” he suggested.

Clear Sky nodded. “Let’s do that.”

This time Gray Wing took the lead, down the narrow path and then alongside the tumbling torrent. Bright Stream’s death still pained them both, but Gray Wing was comforted to feel that they had recovered some of their old closeness.

They headed downriver. At first there was a clear path at the water’s edge, but undergrowth gradually encroached on it until the cats had to battle their way through. Gray Wing muttered curses under his breath as twigs and bramble tendrils snagged in his fur.

Eventually the undergrowth thinned out and they saw a tall outcrop of rocks jutting out from the river, which swept around it in two surging channels. Gray Wing spotted stepping-stones just above the surface of the water.

“Let’s explore!” Clear Sky exclaimed. Without waiting for Gray Wing’s response, he jumped neatly from stone to stone until he reached the outcrop. “Come on, it’s easy!” he called back to Gray Wing.

Gray Wing didn’t see the point of crossing to the outcrop, but he heard the hint of challenge in his brother’s voice. More hesitantly than Clear Sky, he leaped over the stepping-stones. Their surfaces were uneven and slick with water, and Gray Wing had a vision of slipping and being carried away by the swift, choppy current.

“You took your time,” Clear Sky meowed as Gray Wing reached his side. He gave him a friendly butt with his head. “Let’s climb to the top.”

He set off with a powerful leap, and Gray Wing toiled after him. Finally they reached the summit of the outcrop, made up of several flat rocks at different levels, with deep cracks between.

Gray Wing glanced warily in all directions. “There’s a lot of cat scent around here.”

“I’m not surprised,” Clear Sky responded. “These rocks must be great for sunning yourself. And there’ll be plenty of prey in all these cracks.”

“Quite right,” a cold voice hissed from behind them.

Gray Wing and Clear Sky both jumped around, startled, to see a strange she-cat standing on the top of a flat rock a couple of tail-lengths away. She was completely black, except for one white paw and a white spot on one shoulder; her green eyes were narrowed, glaring at them with hostility.

“Hello,” Gray Wing meowed, trying to sound friendly.

The black she-cat wasn’t impressed. “Get off my rocks,” she snarled, sliding out her claws.

Clear Sky’s neck fur began to rise. “Who says they’re your rocks?”

The she-cat took a threatening pace forward. “I’ve heard about trespassers on the moor. You’re not welcome here!” She spun around and, to Gray Wing’s astonishment, jumped neatly into the river. Her sleek dark head reappeared a heartbeat later as she swam strongly for the opposite bank.

“A swimming cat!” Clear Sky exclaimed.

Relieved that the encounter had been no worse, Gray Wing let out a mrrow of amusement. “She should meet Falling Feather,” he mewed.

Together the two cats leaped over the stepping-stones again and bounded back into the trees. A squirrel darted out in front of them and fled for safety up a tree, but Clear Sky brought it down with another massive leap.

He and Gray Wing settled down side by side to share the prey.

“You know,” Clear Sky murmured, glancing around him, “I could live somewhere like this.”

Gray Wing swallowed the mouthful he was eating. “I prefer open sky,” he responded.

Clear Sky flicked an ear at him. “Well, you have the speed to catch rabbits!”

When they had finished the prey, the two brothers headed back through the trees. Gray Wing could hear rustling, as if other cats were vanishing into the bushes.

“I think we’re being watched,” he hissed.

Clear Sky gave an airy wave of his tail. “So what? They’re not showing themselves, so they must be scared of us. And that’s fine by me. I don’t want to be challenged for every mouthful of prey.”

Gray Wing couldn’t share his brother’s confidence. “If we stay here, we need to live peacefully with these other cats,” he pointed out.

The strangeness of this place washed over him again like water surging over a rock. I feel like I don’t know anything about living here.

Clear Sky led the way back to the moor, veering away from the river to pass through the huge hollow where the four oak trees stood.

“This is a fantastic place!” he exclaimed, turning around as if he was trying to see all of it at once. Then he leaped up one of the oaks, clawing his way up the bark until he could stand where a branch forked from the main trunk.

“Come down!” Gray Wing called, not even trying to imitate his brother’s jump. “You’re not a squirrel!”

“There’s no reason cats can’t live in trees,” Clear Sky responded, waving his tail playfully.

Gray Wing rolled his eyes. Before he could reply, he felt once again the sensation of being watched. Scanning the slope, he spotted a plump tortoiseshell cat scrutinizing them from the shelter of a clump of fern, her dappled pelt almost invisible in its shadow.

“We’ve got company,” he told Clear Sky.

His brother looked where he was pointing, then climbed back to the ground, jumping the last few tail-lengths.

Before he landed, the tortoiseshell cat turned and bounded off up the slope. Gray Wing watched her go, frustrated that he hadn’t had the chance to speak to her.

“She seemed really well fed,” he commented to Clear Sky.

“You’re right,” said Clear Sky. “She was no wild cat. Do you think kittypets come into these woods?”

Gray Wing wasn’t sure. He knew that some of the others had spotted Twoleg dens through the trees, and the narrow paths carried the scents of Twolegs and dogs, but the moor and the forest were mostly left to wild creatures.

That’s how it should be. I can’t understand why any cat would want to live with Twolegs, he thought curiously.

Gray Wing and Clear Sky reached the hollow to hear Moon Shadow’s voice raised argumentatively.

“I’ve told you over and over again that I’m sick of eating rabbits and getting wet! Why don’t we go and live among the trees?”

He stood facing his sister, his neck fur fluffed up and his tail lashing.

“It’s not as easy as that,” Tall Shadow responded, her voice cold.

As Gray Wing and Clear Sky picked their way down the slope, Turtle Tail padded up to meet them. “Those two are at it again,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“All you ever do is order us around,” Moon Shadow was saying.

“And all you ever do is argue,” Hawk Swoop interrupted, stepping between Moon Shadow and Tall Shadow. “The rest of us are tired of listening to it. Look, it’s not raining now, so why don’t we try hunting some birds, like we used to?”

Glancing around, Hawk Swoop pointed with her tail toward a hawk circling over some rough grass below the hollow. “Come on,” she urged. “We know how to catch that kind of prey!”

Jackdaw’s Cry sprang to his paws at once, followed a heartbeat later by Dappled Pelt and Rainswept Flower. Though Gray Wing’s legs were tired, he stepped forward too.

Clear Sky padded across to Tall Shadow. “Are you okay with this?” he asked.

Tall Shadow shrugged. “You can hunt whatever you like—so long as you stay out of the trees where the other cats are.”

Moon Shadow looked as if he was going to start arguing again, then turned and stomped off to his nest.

“Are you coming?” Gray Wing asked Turtle Tail.

“No,” said the young tortoiseshell. “I’ve already eaten once today. I don’t need to hunt again.”

With Hawk Swoop in the lead, the mountain cats climbed out of the hollow and ran down the slope toward the hawk, keeping low so as not to alert it.

“It’s a bit small, isn’t it?” Dappled Pelt murmured. “It looks like a sparrow, compared to the eagles back home.”

“This is our home now,” Hawk Swoop meowed instantly.

A heavy silence greeted her words. Is it really our home? Gray Wing wondered. But racing along with the wind in his fur and the sun warming his back, he began to feel content.

This could be a good place to live.

The cats surrounded the hawk, instinctively remembering their mountain hunting patterns as they closed in on it from different directions. Hawk Swoop nodded to Jackdaw’s Cry; he could jump the highest, so he was a good choice to make the first leap.

The hawk was distracted by focusing on its tiny prey in the grass. At the last moment it became aware of the hunting cats, and beat its wings in an attempt to gain height.

But it was too late. Jackdaw’s Cry hurled himself into the air and brought the hawk down with a yowl of triumph. The other cats rushed in to help hold it down, but Jackdaw’s Cry had already killed it with a bite to its neck.

That was almost too easy, Gray Wing thought.

“Great catch,” Rainswept Flower mewed admiringly. “You can keep it for yourself.”

Jackdaw’s Cry ducked his head, proud and embarrassed.

While they were talking, Dappled Pelt had pounced into the grass. When she straightened up, the mouse the hawk had been hunting was dangling from her jaws.

“Two catches in one go!” she mumbled through the mouthful of prey.

“That would never have happened in the mountains,” Rainswept Flower commented.

Every cat looked pleased, though Gray Wing felt that their cheerfulness was slightly forced.

We’re all trying too hard to pretend this is perfect.