A Forest Divided (13 page)

Clear Sky shook out his fur and picked his way farther along the gully, telling himself that he was just being jumpy.

As the woods rose to one side, he hopped out of the gully and began to climb the slope toward the sycamore. As he neared the top, a fresh scent touched his nose; not all prey was in its burrow. The thick layer of leaf litter beneath the sycamore, crawling with tasty bugs, must have tempted something from its shelter. He opened his mouth and tasted the musky scent of a vole.

Stiffening, he dropped into a hunting crouch and drew himself forward, one paw step at a time, toward the crest of the slope. As the earth flattened, he scanned the forest floor.
The ancient roots of the sycamore snaked into the ground. Movement flickered beside one of the gnarled stems. Clear Sky froze. The vole was snuffling at a seed pod, its tiny ears twitching.

He fixed his gaze on it, forcing his tail to stay still as he crept forward. His heart quickened as he closed in. The vole had picked up the seed pod and was nibbling at one side. Three tail-lengths from it, Clear Sky narrowed his eyes, judging his leap. If he pushed hard enough, he could land square on the vole and pin it against the sycamore root. His fur rippled along his spine. Bunching his legs beneath him, he waggled his hindquarters. Then he leaped.

Dead leaves fluttered out behind him. The vole turned at the sound, its eyes widening in terror. Fast as lightning, it scuttled out of sight. Clear Sky landed clumsily, thumping against the sycamore root.

“Mouse dung!” he hissed, frustration flashing though him.

Leaves rustled behind and he turned.

Star Flower was standing at the top of the slope. Her lustrous tail was high and her eyes glittered with amusement. “Nice try.”

Heat flooded beneath Clear Sky's pelt. “You scared it off.” He straightened angrily. “It probably smelled your scent.”

She padded closer, her tail swishing. “At least
something
did.”

“You were
downwind
.” Clear Sky grunted. Was she
trying
to embarrass him?

“Perhaps I could give you some tips.” She stopped a tail-length away. “I've been hunting here all my life.”

Clear Sky climbed onto the root and sat down. “I don't need tips, thanks. I'm a great hunter.” He lifted a paw and began washing it.

“I know that.” Star Flower rounded the end of the root, where it plunged into the earth, stopping on the other side. “But you weren't born in a forest. You don't have the same feel for it as me. Leaf and Nettle share an instinct. You've seen them hunt. You must have noticed how they can blend into the woods in a way you'll never be able to.”

Clear Sky stopped washing. “
That's
why I took them into my group,” he said, his chest puffing with pride. Any cat could hunt, but few had the sense to recognize and use the skills of other cats. He leaned toward Star Flower. “Perhaps I should give you some tips about leadership.”

Her green eyes glowed with a challenge. “Perhaps you should.”

Clear Sky snorted.
Proud young cat!
“What are you doing here anyway?”

“You looked lonely, leaving the camp by yourself,” she told him.

“I don't get lonely,” Clear Sky snapped.

Star Flower eyed him for a moment. “Really?” She padded forward until she was just a whisker away from him.

He hopped down from the tree root and faced her. “Go back to camp and leave me alone.”

“It's too . . .
cozy
in camp. I'm not used to being around so many cats. For most of my life, it was just me and One Eye.”

“Surely you had littermates?” Clear Sky bristled with
irritation the moment he spoke. He'd allowed her to draw him into a conversation.

“They died with my mother.” Her green eyes showed no expression.

Clear Sky's paws pricked uneasily. Did she feel no grief? “How did they die?”

“I don't know.” Star Flower shrugged. “I was too young to remember, and One Eye refused to ever speak of them.”

Clear Sky strode past her and gazed away between the trees. He wasn't going to feel sympathy for this cat. This was probably how she had won Thunder's affection. “That must have been hard for you,” he meowed coldly. “But every cat holds some tragedy in their heart.”

“Like you.” She moved closer until her thick pelt brushed his.

Clear Sky flinched away and glared at her. “Go back to camp.”

“We're more alike than you think.” Her green gaze seemed to burn into his.

“We're nothing alike,” he snapped. “I've never betrayed any cat.”

“I'm not sure Gray Wing would agree with that,” Star Flower pointed out. “Or Thunder. Or Jagged Peak.” She paused. “Or Rainswept Flower.”

Claw Sky could feel his claws extended, digging into the earth. How dare she remind him that he'd killed a cat he'd grown up with?

He had been trying to make amends for it every day since.

Star Flower lowered her voice. “I
understand
you, Clear Sky.
You've had to make hard decisions to protect the cats in your care. And sometimes it's meant doing things you've regretted.” She held his gaze. “If I could take back some of the things I've done, I would.”

He blinked. Was she
sorry
for her betrayal?

Her eyes glimmered as though lit by starlight. Her dark pupils looked like flowers. To Clear Sky, it was almost like the five petals of the Blazing Star seemed to shine in her eyes.

“I know you don't trust me,” she murmured. “I don't deserve your trust. But I will try to show you that you can count on me. Once I choose my allies, I am willing to die for them. For all my mistakes, I never betrayed my father. And, if you trust me, I will never betray you.”

Clear Sky fought to drag his gaze away, but he was caught in the green depths of her eyes.
I will never betray you.
As her words echoed in his mind, his heart ached with hope. Could it be true? Had he finally found a cat who had complete faith in him? Who would follow him without question through thick and thin?

Wind rattled the branches overhead, breaking the spell. Clear Sky turned away. “Go back to camp, Star Flower,” he meowed firmly. “If you want to earn my trust—and the trust of the other cats—then you'll have to work for it. Help Milkweed groom the last of the fleas from her pelt. Get fresh moss for Pink Eyes's nest. His fur is thin, so he feels the cold more than most cats. Make sure Thistle and Clover never go hungry again.” He faced Star Flower, searching her gaze. Would she obey him?

She dipped her head. “Okay.” Then she turned and headed back through the trees. As she disappeared down the slope, sunshine reached through the branches like claws and raked her golden pelt.

Clear Sky stared after her, unable to move—he felt as though his paws had grown roots. His tail twitched.

Perhaps he'd been wrong about her. There was more to Star Flower than met the eye.

Thunder stretched in his nest and
blinked sleep from his eyes. It was morning on a new day, but there was no sunlight in sight. Thick gray clouds washed the camp with drizzle. A fat drop of water splashed onto his muzzle. With a shiver, he hopped out.

“You're awake at last,” Owl Eyes huffed as he landed beside the young tom.

He was sitting on the edge of the clearing, watching Birch and Alder train Thistle and Clover.

“Is it late?” Thunder searched the clouds beyond the treetops for some sign of the sun.

“Clear Sky's already sent out hunting patrols.” Owl Eyes didn't pull his gaze from the young cats. “It's their second day training.”

Birch and Alder circled the clearing, their paws pattering softly over the muddy earth. Thistle and Clover crouched at the center, their fur plastered against their thin frames as they concentrated on their hunting crouches.

“Keep your tail down!” Alder told Thistle.

“Tuck your hind paws tighter under you,” Birch called to Clover.

Clover frowned. “But that makes it harder to jump.”

“It will feel that way to begin with,” Birch reassured the ginger-and-white kit. “But once you've gotten the hang of it, you'll be able to jump farther. And the farther you can jump, the less stalking you'll have to do.”

Owl Eyes's tail flicked irritably behind him. “What's wrong with stalking?”

Ignoring the gray tom, Clover narrowed her eyes and bunched up her hindquarters. “Is that better?”

“Great!” Birch lifted his tail. “Now jump.”

Clover hurled herself forward. As she pushed off from the ground, her hind paws slithered on the mud, and she fell sprawling onto her belly.

Thistle purred with amusement. “You look like you're trying to swim!”

Clover whipped around and glared at him. “
You
try it, mouse-brain!”

Thistle clamped his mouth shut and leaped. He sailed across the clearing and landed neatly, a muzzle-length from Birch. Purring loudly, he looked at the ginger tom. “How was that?”

“You're going to be a great hunter,” Birch told him proudly.

Clover snorted and dropped onto her belly again, tucking her hind paws tightly beneath her. Grunting with effort, she leaped. This time, she landed skillfully, controlling her skid as her paws hit the wet earth. She blinked at Alder. “Better?”

“Much!”
Alder congratulated the kit.

Owl Eyes sniffed. “I still think you should be teaching
them how to stalk, not to jump.”

Alder glanced at the gray tom. “Clear Sky asked
us
to train them, not you.”

Birch joined his sister. “You're just in a bad mood because he chose Sparrow Fur for the second hunting patrol.”

Owl Eyes flattened his ears. “I hunt better than she does in the rain,” he muttered. “Sparrow Fur doesn't like getting her paws wet.” He stalked across the clearing and curled down among the roots of the beech, his pelt spiked from the rain. Miserably, he shoved his nose under his paw and closed his eyes.

I should be out on patrol,
Thunder thought, tearing his gaze away to scan the camp. Where was Clear Sky?

He recognized Cloud Spots's voice beneath the yew.

“Chew these leaves, Milkweed.”

Thunder's nose twitched at the smell of tansy.

“It's just a slight sickness in your chest,” Cloud Spots was saying. “The leaves should clear it. Send Clover for more if you still feel bad later.”

The long-furred black tom came out from beneath the yew and padded to the short, steep bank beyond the oak. Brambles spilled over the muddy overhang beside the hollow where Clear Sky made his nest. They smelled like a pungent meadow. Cloud Spots slid behind them. He'd been collecting herbs for days and stashing them among the prickly stems.

“Thunder!” Clover called to him. “Watch me jump!”

Thunder looked as she crouched and leaped across the clearing.

He'd been pleased that Clear Sky had taken the starving family in—even happier when he'd heard Milkweed pass on Gray Wing's message. Perhaps Clear Sky and Gray Wing's relationship was gently mending. But it was strange that Gray Wing had been on the moor. He'd gone to live among the pines with Tall Shadow. What had driven him back to his old home?

“Well?”

He realized Clover was staring at him expectantly. “Very good,” he told her.

Clover purred. “I can jump as far as Thistle now.”

“No you can't!” Thistle lifted his tail indignantly.

Birch stepped between the kits. “Why don't we practice stalking, like Owl Eyes suggested?”

Owl Eyes's ear twitched, but he didn't lift his muzzle from beneath his paw.

Thunder caught Birch's eye. “Where's Clear Sky?” Perhaps it wasn't too late to persuade his father to let him join a patrol.

Birch glanced at the branch that overhung the clearing. That was where Clear Sky liked to sit and watch over the camp. It was empty. Birch shrugged. “Perhaps he's gone to make dirt.”

Thunder padded to the bottom of the oak. His father's scent was still fresh on the bark, which meant he probably hadn't gotten far. Thunder leaped up the steep bank and padded over the wet grass beyond. “Clear Sky?” he called.

The bracken at the edge of the camp rustled and Clear Sky slid out. “What is it?”

“I'd like to join one of the hunting patrols,” Thunder told him. “Which way did you send them? I'm sure I can catch up.”

“I want you to stay here.” Clear Sky marched past him and paused at the edge of the slope. “Someone needs to watch over the kits.”

“They've got you, and Birch and Alder,” Thunder argued. “
And
Owl Eyes.”

Clear Sky turned his head. “If you wanted to be on a hunting patrol, you should have woken earlier.”

Was his father punishing him for sleeping late? “I'm sorry. I'm still used to the light on the moor. In the forest when it's cloudy, it's sometimes hard to tell day from night.”

“No other cat here has that problem.” As Clear Sky jumped into the clearing, Lightning Tail and Leaf pushed their way through the camp entrance. Thick wads of moss dangled from their jaws.

Lightning Tail dropped his soft, green bundle. “There's enough to line two nests here,” he told Leaf.

Leaf spat out his moss. “We'll never get it dry in this weather.”

“Let's spread it out beside the holly,” Lightning Tail suggested. “The ground catches the sun there. If the clouds clear, it'll dry in no time.”

Thunder turned to look pleadingly at Clear Sky. “Lightning Tail and Leaf are here now,” he pressed. “Let me go hunting. Even if I don't catch up with the patrols, I can hunt on my own. It's leaf-bare. We need all the prey we can get.”

“I need you to stay.
I'm
going on border patrol.” Clear Sky
met his gaze. “Besides, I don't want cats hunting alone.”

Thunder blinked. “Why not?”

“All prey should be shared,” Clear Sky told him briskly. “If we hunt together, then we will be less tempted to keep our catch to ourselves.”

Thunder bristled. “You don't trust us?”

Clear Sky lifted his chin. “Of course I do. But it's my duty as leader to keep you from temptation.”

Thunder glared at him.
Why do I keep forgetting how arrogant he is?
He didn't argue. Instead, he lowered his tail obediently. “If you're going on patrol, let me come with you. You've changed the borders so many times, I'm still having trouble telling the old markers from new. Perhaps you could help me.”

This wasn't true; he could easily tell the difference between a stale scent and a fresh one, but he was desperate to make up for oversleeping. If he flattered Clear Sky, his father might let him join the patrol.

Clear Sky whisked his tail. “If you haven't learned that by now, you never will,” he grunted. “I'm patrolling alone. Every cat needs solitude from time to time.” Before Thunder could object, he marched toward the bramble entrance. Thunder watched him go, uneasiness worming beneath his pelt. Clear Sky had never wanted solitude before. Why now?

As his father pushed his way out of camp, Thunder hurried across the clearing toward Lightning Tail.

“I want you to watch the camp,” he whispered quickly.

Lightning Tail was spreading his strips of moss over the wet earth with a paw. “Why?”

“Clear Sky asked me to do it, but I want to follow him.”

Lightning Tail looked up. “Why? Where's he going?”

“He says he's going to patrol the borders,” Thunder breathed. “I wanted to come but he's
ordered
me to stay in camp.”

Lightning Tail shrugged. “Perhaps he wants to be alone.”

“That's what
he
said,” Thunder conceded. “But I'm following him anyway. What if he runs into a fox or a dog?”

Lightning Tail's whiskers twitched teasingly. “You're just being nosy.”

“That's not true,” Thunder snorted.

Lightning Tail straightened up. “Then I'm coming with you.”

“
Now
who's being nosy?” Thunder teased.

Leaf looked up from his scraps of moss. “What are you two whispering about?”

“We need you to guard the camp,” Thunder told him. “We're going out on patrol.”

Leaf shrugged and smoothed a wide piece of moss with his paw. “Okay.”

Thunder hurried toward the bramble wall, Lightning Tail at his heels. He ducked through the entrance tunnel, his mouth open as he tasted for Clear Sky's scent.

Instinctively, he looked toward the gully his father had led him along on their last patrol together, but Clear Sky's scent drifted from the other direction. Thunder followed it. Keeping low, he brushed past a clump of bracken and slid beneath a branch.

“He's heading for the river,” Lightning Tail whispered from behind.

Thunder's tail twitched. There was a boundary at the river's edge. Clear Sky didn't patrol it very often. He believed that the river, which flowed between River Ripple's marshes and the oak woods, was enough to keep inquisitive rogues and kittypets from crossing into their territory.

Perhaps he was hoping to find some new recruits, just like he'd found Milkweed, Pink Eyes, and Blossom. Was that the purpose of his patrols? As Thunder pushed through a stretch of long grass, he wondered again at the change in his father. The leader who had fought so hard to defend his borders was now happy to open them to any cat.

The thought cheered him, and he leaped the last few clumps of grass and began to follow the forest floor as it sloped upward. He hurried onward watchfully. He didn't want Clear Sky to see that he'd followed him. Once he'd caught up to his father, he would only make his presence known if there was trouble—an unfriendly rogue or a hungry fox.

“Can you see him?” Lightning Tail fell in beside him as they neared the top of the ridge.

“No, but he can't be far ahead.” Clear Sky's scent trail was fresh, his paw prints easy to make out on the damp forest floor. Beyond the crest, flattened grass showed where Clear Sky had bounded down to the river. Thunder scanned the slope, looking for Clear Sky's pale gray pelt. He could see the river glimmering beyond the trees, but no sign of his father other than the trail of crushed grass. He broke into a run,
leaping down the slope, slowing only as he approached the tree line. The river flowed beyond, babbling lazily as it washed the stony bank.

Lightning Tail pulled ahead and peeked out from the trees. “He's not on the shore,” he hissed over his shoulder.

Thunder pointed his nose downstream. “His scent leads that way, along the river.”

“He must be heading for the flat rocks,” Lightning Tail suggested.

The flat rocks were large boulders that rose above the river farther downstream. The first time Thunder had come to live with his father, they'd sunned themselves there, relishing the warmth of the sun-blanched stone. Now he sniffed the grass, picking up Clear Sky's scent. “Let's see,” he told Lightning Tail. “Come on.”