The Sun Trail

Chapter 16

Changing his mind about visiting the river, Gray Wing headed back to the hollow. As he approached it, he met Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots.

“We’re going to look for herbs,” said Dappled Pelt. “Do you want to come with us?”

“I wish you would,” Cloud Spots added. “Tall Shadow says she doesn’t like cats going off the moor in groups smaller than three.”

Dappled Pelt let out an irritable snort. “She’s just making a fuss.”

“Maybe,” Cloud Spots responded, “but it’ll be useful to have an extra mouth to carry whatever we can forage.”

Gray Wing was happy to turn back and join them as they headed down the slope toward the river. “I met those two cats again—Gorse and Wind,” he mewed. “Wind actually hunts rabbits underground!”

Dappled Pelt blinked in surprise. “I’d like to see that!”

Cloud Spots led the way to where the river emerged from the gorge. Sunlight shimmered on its surface. After several dry days, the water was calmer. Gray Wing waited, enjoying the warmth, while Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt foraged among the lush vegetation at the water’s edge.

“Look!” Cloud Spots exclaimed. “There are huge clumps of comfrey here.”

“And yarrow!” Dappled Pelt’s waving tail was all that was visible of her above the thickly growing plants. A moment later she emerged with a bunch of herbs in her jaws and set them down beside Gray Wing. “It’s good to know that what we need is close by, and so early in the warm season,” she meowed.

“Back in the mountains, we could spend a whole day searching in the bottom of the valley,” Cloud Spots agreed. “And even then, we’d never find as much as this.”

Together he and Dappled Pelt began to make a pile of useful leaves and roots at the edge of the river. Gray Wing kept watch in case any of the forest cats appeared, but everything was quiet.

When they had almost as much as they could carry, Dappled Pelt halted, tasting the air and gazing across the river to the far bank. “I can smell tansy over there,” she announced. “Jackdaw’s Cry wrenched his leg practicing his leaps, and tansy is really good for that.”

“There are stepping-stones farther downstream,” Gray Wing told her.

Dappled Pelt studied the river for a moment. “It doesn’t look too deep,” she mewed. Before Gray Wing realized what she meant to do, she began to wade out into the water. “If Falling Feather can do it, so can I!”

Gray Wing and Cloud Spots exchanged alarmed glances, then watched Dappled Pelt as she splashed forward, gasping as the cold water reached her belly fur. A heartbeat later she vanished without warning, the river swirling over her head.

“Haredung!” Cloud Spots exclaimed, bounding to the water’s edge. “I’d better go in and save her.”

But before he could plunge into the current, Dappled Pelt’s head broke the surface. She was splashing frantically, somehow managing to propel herself toward the far bank.

“Hey, I’m swimming!” she called, surprise and triumph in her tone.

“It’s not natural,” Cloud Spots grunted. “You look like a furry fish.”

Dappled Pelt scrambled out of the water, shook herself, and plunged into the undergrowth. Moments later she reappeared with a bunch of leaves in her jaws. Wading into the river she swam back, her head held awkwardly high to keep the leaves out of the water.

“See!” she gasped as she clambered up the bank. “It was easy—but oh, that water is cold!”

“I think you’re mousebrained,” Cloud Spots muttered, shaking his head. “Let’s get back to the hollow.”

“Why not stay and catch fish?” Dappled Pelt suggested.

Cloud Spots rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think about it. You’re going straight back to the hollow to dry out, before you get sick.”

Dappled Pelt gave in with an exasperated snort, and the three cats headed back toward the moor. Gray Wing, a pace or two behind the others, heard voices from the other side of a clump of ferns. His fur bristled with suspicion.

Have Wind and Gorse doubled back to spy on us?

But when he crept through the ferns he found Turtle Tail and Bumble crouching side by side, sharing a plump vole.

Bumble was the first to spot him. “Hello, Gray Wing,” she greeted him, sounding pleased to see him.

Turtle Tail sprang to her paws. “Oh… hi,” she meowed. “Bumble saw me catch this vole, and she wanted to know what it tasted like.”

Gray Wing wondered why Turtle Tail sounded so defensive. He was wary of strange cats, but he couldn’t see anything threatening about this kittypet.

“She obviously likes it,” he responded, setting down his bundle of herbs as Bumble tucked in again. “Bumble, why don’t you come live in the forest all the time?”

Bumble looked up, choking on a mouthful of vole. “No way! My housefolk are kind and I never go hungry. The den is nice, too,” she added. “You should come see it!”

“No, thanks,” Gray Wing told her. “We don’t belong with Twolegs.”

“What about you, Turtle Tail?” Bumble asked.

Turtle Tail’s whiskers twitched with curiosity. “It might be interesting to see it… but not right now.”

Swallowing the last mouthful of prey, Bumble meowed, “Thanks, Turtle Tail. Let’s meet up again soon.”

“Okay,” Turtle Tail agreed. “I’ll keep a lookout for you in the hollow with the oak trees.”

Bumble padded off through the ferns, her tail held high, casting a final glance over her shoulder before she disappeared.

“You know,” Gray Wing mewed thoughtfully, “it’s not a good idea to get too friendly with kittypets.”

Turtle Tail’s neck fur fluffed up. “Why not?”

Gray Wing couldn’t give her a clear answer. “It bothers me, that’s all,” he replied.

It’s like I said. We don’t belong with Twolegs.

Gray Wing lay in his nest under a gorse bush at the bottom of the hollow. The half-moon shed enough light for him to see the top of the slope and beyond it a clear sky glittering with stars. He was warm and full-fed.

This is a good place, he thought. We can live here.

Suddenly a dark shape came between him and the stars. Gray Wing narrowed his eyes and made out a sharp snout outlined against the sky. A rank scent drifted to his nose, and he remembered the thin, red-furred creature he had seen soon after they left the Twolegplace. He had smelled the scent in the forest, too, though he’d never seen the animal that left it.

The dark shape moved, slipping down into the hollow. It was followed by another, and then a third. A terrible awareness of danger swept over Gray Wing. He sprang to his paws.

“Attack!” he screeched.

The dreadful squeal of a cat in pain drowned out his warning. In the next heartbeat the hollow erupted into yowling and thrashing. Gray Wing stared around in panic, his paws frozen to the ground. He caught a glimpse of one of the creatures with his fangs sunk deep in Shattered Ice’s shoulder, shaking the silver-furred tom as if he was a piece of prey.

We are prey, Gray Wing realized with a thrill of horror. We’ll all be killed!