Path of Stars (3 page)

Thunder pricked his ears at the
sound of tiny paws pattering over wet leaves. He stopped, heart quickening, and signaled to Lightning Tail with a twitch of his tail. As Lightning Tail froze behind him, Thunder dropped into a hunting crouch and opened his mouth. Through the scent of musty leaves, he tasted mouse. It was the first ground prey he'd smelled since they'd left camp at dawn. The dripping forest canopy rustled as birds flitted from tree to tree, but the forest floor seemed dead, as though the recent snows had frozen all life.

The mouse moved again, and Thunder glimpsed fur beneath a trailing bramble, which spilled over the top of a rise. Keeping low, he crept forward. The mouse darted deeper into the bramble. Thunder's belly tightened with anticipation. He quickened his pace, then leaped, sailing through the air, his claws outstretched. He narrowed his eyes as he plunged through the spiky branches and landed squarely on the mouse. It struggled beneath his claws as he curled them around it. Tail lashing with triumph, he jerked his muzzle forward and bit through its spine. It fell limp, and he hooked it between his teeth. Barging out of the brambles, he ignored his scratched
muzzle and proudly held up his catch.

Lightning Tail purred when he saw it. “I was starting to think there were no mice left in the forest.”

Thunder dropped the mouse at his friend's paws. “The cold weather came too early.” He glanced at the frost-scorched berries, shriveled on the brambles around them. “It destroyed their food.”

Lightning Tail stared at the mouse. “Hungry prey won't last long.”

Anxiety tugged at Thunder's belly. What if the prey didn't last until newleaf? “Perhaps they managed to store enough food before the snows came,” he meowed hopefully.

Lightning Tail glanced around. “The mice and squirrels might only be hiding until the thaw's finished.”

“I guess.” Thunder tried to push away his doubts. “Let's keep hunting.” He was leader. He was supposed to know what to do. But he couldn't make prey appear out of thin air. He picked up the mouse and followed the rise, climbing over the roots that snaked across the earth. He knew there was a crop of boulders near the top of the ravine. Prey might have burrowed deep into the crevices there. As he headed toward them, glancing wistfully up at the treetops, Lightning Tail fell in beside him.

Early sunlight glowed between the bare branches. Thunder's thoughts flashed to the previous day. He had helped move the heavy stone in the four trees hollow and watched as Clear Sky, Gray Wing, Jagged Peak, Sun Shadow, and Tall Shadow had laid Quiet Rain to rest beneath it. The old she-cat's body
was safe now from prowling foxes, finally at peace after her long journey and painful sickness.

He'd been privately glad to leave grief behind and return to the ravine. His friends had welcomed him happily, listening solemnly as he'd shared the news of Quiet Rain's death, and murmuring with surprise when he'd told them that Gray Wing had left Tall Shadow's group to return to the moor.
I hope he has finally found his true home.

Thunder had never regretted leaving Clear Sky's group and starting his own. Leaf, Pink Eyes, Owl Eyes, Lightning Tail, and Milkweed were loyal and brave, and he was grateful that they'd decided to come with him to the new camp. For the first time, Thunder was where he felt he belonged. On the moor, Gray Wing's kindness had never eased Thunder's craving for the love and approval of his father, Clear Sky. In Clear Sky's camp, he'd never felt fully accepted. Now he knew that he no longer needed either of them. He was guided only by the needs of his group. They depended on him, and he was determined not to let them down. He was a leader.

As they neared the rocks, Lightning Tail's mew cut into his thoughts. “The group should practice tree climbing.” The black tom stopped and gazed up the wide trunk of an oak. A blackbird was hopping along a lower branch.

Thunder stopped and laid the mouse on the ground. “Try it,” he encouraged.

Lightning Tail circled the tree, then reached up and hooked his claws into the mossy bark. Hauling himself up, he sent fuzzy pieces showering down. The blackbird jerked around,
eyes sparking as it caught sight of Lightning Tail. With a squawk it fluttered upward and landed easily on a branch overhead.

Lightning Tail growled. “Why does the best prey have wings?”

Movement caught Thunder's eye. His gaze snapped toward the rocks. A thrush was strutting over the top, stopping every few steps to peck at the cracks in the stone. Thunder froze. There was no undergrowth between him and the thrush. One move and he'd be spotted. He stared, paws rooted to the ground. A thrush would make a good meal for Clover and Thistle. They were only four moons old and the bird would fill their bellies easily. He watched it hungrily. How could he get near enough to pounce without being seen?

Slowing his breath, he crouched and slithered like a snake along the forest floor. Wet leaves soaked his belly fur. Heart pounding, he fixed his gaze on the thrush.

Suddenly a black shape dropped from above.

Thunder gasped, pelt bushing.
Lightning Tail!
Had the tom fallen? Panic flashed beneath Thunder's fur. Then it melted as he caught his friend's eye. Lightning Tail's gaze was fixed on the thrush. He'd
jumped
from the branch!

The bird spread its wings, eyes wild with alarm. Too late. Yowling with triumph, Lightning Tail landed with a thud beside it and snapped his jaws around its neck.

Thunder broke into a purr. “Impressive!”

Lightning Tail bounded toward him, the thrush swinging between his jaws. He dropped it beside Thunder, then shook
out his front paws, one at a time, wincing. “Ow! Stone is
hard
!” His whiskers twitched proudly as he glanced at the thrush. “Let's take it back to the camp so the others can have a bite while it's still warm.”

Thunder nudged his friend's shoulder playfully. “You just want to boast about how you caught it.”

Lightning Tail winked at him. “I might mention that I swooped on it like a hawk.” He scooped up the thrush between his paws and hurried toward the ravine.

Thunder grabbed his mouse and followed. As they neared the edge, familiar scents of home rose from the camp. Thunder slipped past Lightning Tail and scrambled down the steep cliff, following the route from ledge to ledge until he reached the soft earth at the bottom. Lightning Tail landed beside him and raced for the gorse barrier. He ducked first through the tunnel.

Thunder followed, the gorse scraping his pelt. As he burst into camp, Clover and Thistle raced from the bramble bush where they shared a nest with their mother, Milkweed. They were growing bigger each day. Thunder wondered whether he should bring live prey back to camp and start to teach them how to hunt.

Thistle skidded to a halt in front of Lightning Tail as the black tom stopped in the middle of the clearing. Early sunshine speared between the branches at the top of the ravine and dappled the camp with light. Clover raced past her brother and ran to Thunder. “Did you catch any shrews?” Her yellow eyes shone hopefully. Her ginger-and-white fur prickled along her spine.

Thunder dropped the mouse. “Just this, I'm afraid.”

“And my thrush,” Lightning Tail called, nodding to the bird at his paws.

Thistle was already nosing through the feathers, his orange tail twitching with excitement.

Milkweed called from the bramble. “Slow down, Thistle! The others might be hungry.”

Pink Eyes slid from his nest beside the fallen tree. “Let the youngsters eat,” he mewed huskily. “I can wait.” He blinked through the sunshine as though trying to see. His pale eyes had never been very sharp. The passing moons seemed to dull his eyesight even more.

Thunder noticed with a frown how skinny the old tom looked. Starting leaf-bare so thin wasn't healthy. “Have this mouse, Pink Eyes.” He carried his catch to the white tom and dropped it at his paws. “Thistle and Clover can have the thrush. I'll send out another hunting patrol soon.”

“I'll go.” Leaf padded from the bramble, his fur still ruffled from sleep.

Owl Eyes scrambled from his nest beneath the yew. “Can I go too?”

Thunder purred, pleased to see his campmates so eager. “How would you like to lead it?”

“Yes, please!” Owl Eyes lifted his tail excitedly.

Thunder glanced at Leaf. The black-and-white tom was older and more experienced. Would he understand that it was important for younger cats to practice leading as well as following?

Leaf whisked his tail happily. “That's a great idea.”

Cloud Spots padded from the fern tunnel, which led to a small clearing among the fronds where he'd made his nest. The ferns were dying back now, but bracken crowded behind, sheltering the den with stiff orange leaves. Cloud Spots still looked bleary with sleep. “I smell prey.” He glanced at the thrush. Then his gaze flicked toward the mouse at Pink Eyes's paws. “Is that all you found?” There was worry in his mew.

Thunder shook out his fur. “I'm sure Owl Eyes and Leaf will find more,” he answered breezily. He didn't want the group to know how concerned he was. “They're about to leave on patrol.”

“I'll go with them,” Cloud Spots told him. “Six eyes are better than four.”

Thistle looked up from the thrush. “If I come too, there'll be
eight
eyes!”

Leaf touched his nose to the kit's head. “You can come another time.”

“You can check the ravine for mice while we're gone!” Owl Eyes was already hurrying to the camp entrance, Cloud Spots at his heels.

“I already checked yesterday!” Thistle complained. “There aren't any!”

“Try again,” Leaf told him, turning to follow Cloud Spots.

Milkweed crossed the clearing. “We need you here, Thistle,” she meowed. “If everyone goes hunting, who's going to guard the camp?”

Thistle snorted. “You're just saying that to stop me from going.”

Clover trotted toward her brother. “Of course she is,” she sniffed. “If she doesn't make you feel special, you'll sulk all morning.”

“I never sulk!” Thistle glared at his sister.

“You sulked all afternoon yesterday because Milkweed wouldn't let you play in the rain.”

Thistle stuck his tail in the air crossly. “It was only
rain
!”

Thunder padded between them, swapping glances with Milkweed. He could hear grit showering down the ravine side as Owl Eyes led his patrol up to the forest. “When everyone's had something to eat, I'll take you into the forest with Milkweed,” he promised Thistle.

Milkweed looked at him gratefully.

Thistle's fur rippled with excitement. “Like a real patrol?”

“Can I come too?” Clover asked eagerly.

“Of course.” Thunder gazed at her warmly.

Lightning Tail picked up the thrush and carried it to a patch of sunshine beside the tree stump near the edge of the clearing. “Come and eat this,” he called to the kits. “And I'll tell you how I caught it.”

Thistle and Clover raced toward him.

Milkweed glanced at the fallen tree, her gaze flicking over Pink Eyes's nest. The squashed pile of bracken looked limp, soggy after the recent rain. “Should I make Pink Eyes a new bed?” She glanced at Thunder.

As Thunder nodded, Pink Eyes looked up sharply from his mouse. “I can make my own nest,” he grunted.

“I know,” Milkweed answered. “But why don't I get it
started and you can help me when you've finished eating. I can gather fresh bracken, and you can scrape moss from the fallen tree and spread it in the sunshine to dry.” She didn't wait for a reply, but crossed the clearing.

As she disappeared into the bracken, Lightning Tail's pelt caught Thunder's eye. The black tom was diving across the clearing, forepaws outstretched.

Thistle and Clover stared at the tom, wide-eyed, their mouths full.

“The thrush didn't even see me,” Lightning Tail told them as he demonstrated his move. “I just swooped on it as silently as an owl.”