Path of Stars (26 page)

Thunder's eyes glistened with emotion. “You did the best you could,” he mewed huskily.

Sharp voices suddenly sounded outside the den.

“I
have
to take Black Ear home.” It was Slate's anxious mew.

Holly answered her fretfully. “He's not well enough to travel yet.”

“He'll be fine now that he's warm and fed,” Pebble Heart reassured her.

“He must see Gray Wing.” Slate's mew tightened. “It might be his last chance before . . .” Her mew trailed away.

Clear Sky stiffened. “Before what?” He remembered Thunder's lie to Black Ear. “Gray Wing's sick, isn't he?”

Thunder blinked at him sadly. “I don't think he's going to recover this time.”

“He's
dying
?” Clear Sky struggled to his paws as shock pulsed through him. “I have to see him.”

Thunder narrowed his eyes. “Can you travel as far as the moor?”

“I
have
to see him,” Clear Sky growled. Pushing past Thunder, he slid from the den. Bright sunshine made him wince as it reflected off the snow-powdered camp. He stared at Slate. Black Ear was tucked beneath her belly. “I'm coming with you.”

Slate dipped her head.

“So am I.” Thunder padded from the den and stood close to Clear Sky.

Pain throbbed through Clear Sky's tail. He staggered and fell against Thunder.

“Don't worry, Clear Sky.” Thunder pushed against him, tucking his shoulder in hard as Slate picked up Black Ear and headed out of camp. “I'll make sure you get there in time.”

Pain stabbed in Gray Wing's chest
with every gasp. Exhausted by the battle for breath, he longed to give up. But he couldn't. Not now. Not until Black Ear was safely back in camp.

Wind Runner shifted beside him. “You should be in your den. It's freezing here.”

Gray Wing shook his head, too breathless to speak. He stared stubbornly toward the camp entrance from where he lay between the tussocks. Snowflakes drifted onto his fur. The heavy clouds were dusting the moor once again.

“Have some more coltsfoot.” Reed Tail pawed leaves close to his muzzle. “It'll help.”

Gray Wing blinked up at the gentle tom. The coltsfoot had stopped working long ago. He was beyond help now. He could only wait and fight for a last glimpse of his beloved Slate and Black Ear.

“Gray Wing?” Silver Stripe huddled next to him. “Slate's been gone for ages. She
is
coming back, isn't she?”

“Of course she is,” Gray Wing rasped.

White Tail nuzzled closer. “And Black Ear?”

“Gorse Fur said they found him.” Gray Wing coughed
weakly. “Slate's fetching him right now.”

“Save your breath.” Swift Minnow padded closer and sat beside Gray Wing, pressing the kits between her flank and his. She wrapped her tail over their tiny bodies, protecting them from the thickening snow. “Wind Runner's right. You should all be inside.”

Gray Wing didn't answer. He didn't dare take his gaze from the gorse entrance. For a moment his thoughts drifted into the past, moons ago, when he'd waited for Turtle Tail to return from Twolegplace. She'd never come home.
Let Slate come home.
His heart ached with the need to see her and Black Ear.

Moth Flight padded from Spotted Fur's den.

Reed Tail glanced at her. “How is he?”

Moth Flight fluffed out her fur. “He's asleep.”

“Any sign of fever?”

“No,” Moth Flight told him. “I felt his muzzle. It was cool. His wounds are all clean, and the dressing Pebble Heart made will keep them from turning sour.”

White Tail fidgeted beside Gray Wing. “I want Slate. I'm hungry.”

“She'll be home soon,” Gray Wing murmured weakly.

Swift Minnow glanced toward the snow-capped prey pile. “You could try some mouse.”

“He's too young,” Wind Runner mewed.

“Perhaps I could chew it for him first—”

“Hush.” Gray Wing pricked his ears. Paw steps were crunching through the snow outside the camp. He struggled
to push himself up, but his paws buckled beneath him.
Slate can't see me so helpless!
Panic surged through him, stealing the small breath he had left. He began to cough.

“It's okay.” Swift Minnow lapped his pelt with long smooth strokes. “She's coming. Everything will be all right.”

Gray Wing's heart quickened as the gorse trembled and Slate padded into camp. Black Ear was clinging to her back.

He slithered down as soon as he saw Gray Wing. “Why are you lying there in the snow?” He raced toward his father and flung himself against Gray Wing's chest, huddling in the soft fur. “Slash stole me, but I escaped!” he mewed. “Now I'm home! I missed you so much.”

Gray Wing's throat tightened as White Tail and Silver Stripe scrambled out from beneath Swift Minnow's tail and greeted their brother.

“White Tail said Slash ate you!” Silver Stripe squeaked.

“I did not!” White Tail pushed his sister out of the way and nuzzled Black Ear, purring.

Gray Wing breathed their scent as they huddled beneath his chin.

Then his gaze met Slate's.

She had stopped a tail-length away. Her eyes glistened with grief as she stared at him.

I'm sorry.
Guilt washed over Gray Wing's pelt. He'd promised to help her raise their kits, but he knew that with each desperate breath, he was coming closer to his end. She'd have to raise them alone.

Slate blinked her sadness away. “Give your father some
space.” Padding forward, she scooped White Tail away by his scruff.

“Is Black Ear okay?” Gray Wing searched Slate's gaze.

“He's fine,” she told him. “But he's had quite an adventure. He can tell you about it once we've got you into your den, where it's warm.”

As she spoke, Gray Wing realized that Thunder, Pebble Heart, Jagged Peak, and Clear Sky had followed her into camp. Clear Sky was leaning against Thunder, his battered tail slick with sticky herbs. Gray Wing blinked at his brother. “What happened?”

But Slate was already nudging him to his paws. “Let's get you out of the snow,” she mewed briskly. He wobbled, and she pressed against him. Wind Runner ducked around his other side, and they steered him toward his den.

After helping him inside, they let him drop into his nest. It felt soft and warm beneath him. The roomy gorse cave was dark. Evening light filtered through the entrance. He lay still for a moment while he struggled for breath. Then Silver Stripe, Black Ear, and White Tail charged in.

“Thunder says Black Ear was nearly killed by a monster,” White Tail told him as he scrambled into the nest beside him.

“But Clear Sky saved him,” Silver Stripe added, hopping in after him.

“One of the rogues dropped me right in the middle of the Thunderpath,” Black Ear announced dramatically.

Gray Wing's heart lurched.

Slate bustled past him. “But you're safe now,” she told Black
Ear. “That's all that matters.” She scooped him up and placed him beside the others.

Happy to feel the kits warm against his flank, Gray Wing tried to purr. But he wasn't strong enough and started coughing.

“Is Gray Wing sick?” Black Ear asked Slate.

White Tail lifted his nose knowledgeably. “He's got the
sniffles
. Reed Tail's been giving him herbs just like the ones he gave me when I had the sniffles.”

Gray Wing didn't dare look at Slate. Grief clawed his heart.

Wind Runner padded forward and met Gray Wing's gaze. “I'm glad you got Black Ear back.” Sorrow clouded her eyes. “We'll never lose him again. I promise that your kits will always be safe here.” Suddenly she thrust her nose forward and touched it to Gray Wing's head. “Good-bye, old friend.”

Silver Stripe frowned, puzzled. “Why's Wind Runner acting soppy?”

Gray Wing's throat tightened. “It's been a long day, that's all.” He held Wind Runner's gaze for a moment. Then she turned away, and he watched her pad from the den. Gray Wing pulled Black Ear closer. He trusted Wind Runner to keep her word. She was a brave and honorable leader, and he felt fortunate to have been trusted by her. Whatever happened, his kits would be safe.

As she disappeared into the evening light, Thunder stuck his head in. “Can I come in?”

Gray Wing blinked at him. “Yes,” he rasped. “Pebble Heart, Jagged Peak, and Clear Sky must come too.” He wanted to see
the faces that had meant so much to him.

Jagged Peak entered first. Gray Wing blinked warmly at the reckless younger brother whose fearlessness had led him here. Was there still a spark of spirit in his solemn blue eyes? Gray Wing searched them through the half-light and saw only grief.

Pebble Heart followed, and Gray Wing tried to purr as he saw him, warmth flooding his heart. Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes should be here too. They'd helped rescue Black Ear. Turtle Tail would have been proud of them. Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes had matured over the moons from feisty kits into brave, trustworthy cats. But Pebble Heart had not changed. Turtle Tail's quietest kit had always been so serious, and yet in his seriousness there had always been kindness and wisdom. “Look,” Gray Wing whispered to Black Ear as he held him close.

Black Ear stopped wriggling and followed his gaze. “Why? It's only Pebble Heart.”

“Pebble Heart is the gentlest cat I know,” Gray Wing breathed. “Go to him if you're ever in trouble. He will always know what to do.”

Thunder padded into the den, his huge white paws bright in the fading light. Gray Wing gazed at him proudly. The hotheaded young tom had become a strong leader. His cats looked up to him. Gray Wing had seen the warmth and respect with which his campmates looked at him.

White Tail put his paws on the side of the nest and stared at the forest cat. “Why is everyone visiting you, Gray Wing?”

They've come to say good-bye.
Gray Wing lapped White Tail's head. “They've come to make sure Black Ear's okay.”

“But why
them
?” White Tail pressed. “Are they kin?”

“Yes,” Gray Wing told him gently.

He frowned. “Then why don't they live in our group?”

“They have their own groups.”

Groups.
Suddenly the word didn't seem enough to describe the closeness he felt for his campmates. Wind Runner, Gorse Fur, Slate, Swift Minnow, Reed Tail, and Spotted Fur—he suddenly realized that he felt as close to them as he felt to his own kin. His thoughts quickened, searching for a word that meant
more
than
groups
. A word that reflected the kinship he felt for those he hunted and fought beside. “They have their own
Clans
,” he meowed suddenly.

Pebble Heart blinked.
“Clans!”
Satisfaction sparked in his gaze. “The five Clans, like the five petals of the Blazing Star.”

Black Ear pricked his ears. “What's our Clan called?”

Gray Wing paused. What name would reflect all they had come from and how they lived? He thought of the high, wide moor, the breeze forever streaming through his pelt. “We are WindClan,” he whispered at last.

Silver Stripe clambered onto Gray Wing's flank. “Then Thunder's group must be ThunderClan.”

White Tail hopped up beside his sister. “And Tall Shadow's Clan can be ShadowClan!”

Black Ear squirmed free of Gray Wing. “River Ripple's group must be RiverClan!”

Slate slid into the nest beside him and pressed her flank to
his. Warmth flowed through his fur, reaching his bones.

“What should Clear Sky's group be called?” White Tail asked.

Gray Wing gazed at Clear Sky. His brother's fur was matted. His cheek was swollen, his eyes dull with pain. And yet Gray Wing recognized the determined gaze he'd known as a kit when they'd shared a nest in the mountains and explored the cave together. It had been Clear Sky who had cajoled and bullied him into taking his first peek at the snow beyond the waterfall. Whatever had happened in Gray Wing's life, Clear Sky had been part of it, and whatever troubles they had faced, Clear Sky had always had his gaze fixed bravely on the distant horizon. “SkyClan,” Gray Wing breathed, reaching for his brother's gaze with the dark knowledge that soon he'd see it no more.

Clear Sky's whiskers twitched. “SkyClan,” he murmured. “Trust you to name my Clan for something beyond my reach.”

Gray Wing held his gaze. “The sky is all around you,” he mewed softly. “You walk through it every day. It's just that you don't realize it.” He went on before Clear Sky could speak. “Did you really save my kit?”

Thunder butted in. “He risked his life to grab him from the paws of a monster.”

“Thank you.” Gray Wing's mew was hoarse.

Movement caught his eye. In the shadows behind Clear Sky, stars seemed to sparkle. The walls of the gorse den shifted as a new face appeared, a face Gray Wing recognized at once. “Bright Stream!” He could see her as she stopped beside Clear
Sky. Two kits stood at her paws, one tabby and one pale gray.

She blinked at him, then touched her nose to the kits' heads. “They are the kits I was carrying when I died,” she whispered.

Gray Wing's gaze darted to Clear Sky. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Clear Sky tipped his head.

“Bright Stream! She's beside you. With your kits.”

“My kits?” Clear Sky shifted his paws uneasily. “Can you see them now?”

“Yes! She was carrying them when she died.” Joy filled Gray Wing's heart. “They're . . . beautiful.”