Warriors: Dawn of the Clans #2: Thunder Rising (8 page)

Some of the cats began to pad away, back to their nests. Jackdaw’s Cry, however, was staring hard at Gray Wing. “That’s a nice suggestion, but I still think we need to do what Clear Sky is doing,” he argued. “Organize our boundaries, defend our territory and our prey, bring cats who agree with us into our group, and keep the others out. It doesn’t matter whether they started out with us in the mountains, or whether they’re rogues.” He lashed his tail. “You’re right, Shattered Ice. We need a new leader. If it’s not Gray Wing . . .”

Gray Wing couldn’t believe the change that had come over his denmates. He glanced at Jagged Peak; his brother had hardly spoken, but was following the argument carefully, his gaze flicking from one cat to another. Thunder was watching carefully, too. Gray Wing had no idea what either of the young cats was thinking.

One thing was certain in Gray Wing’s mind.
I don’t want to be a leader like Clear Sky
. As soon as the words had formed themselves he felt full of guilt.
Clear Sky is my brother! I know he’s only doing what he thinks is best
.

“Jagged Peak, what do you think?” Jackdaw’s Cry asked. “You lived in Clear Sky’s group for a while. What was it like?”

Jagged Peak twitched his whiskers, looking pleased that one of the older cats was asking his opinion. “I wasn’t welcome there once I was injured,” he responded drily. “If we’re planning to organize ourselves like Clear Sky’s group, will we be throwing out injured cats or motherless kits? How about cats who get old or sick?”

Jackdaw’s Cry stared at Jagged Peak, clearly startled. “We’re not planning anything like
that
,” he replied in a shocked tone. “We just want to get more organized and have more cats join us so we can defend our territory.”

Rainswept Flower nodded eagerly. “Please, Jagged Peak, won’t you show us something that can help? Something you learned from Clear Sky and his cats?”

Jagged Peak hesitated, as if he was about to refuse, then shrugged and dragged himself on top of a boulder. The rest of the cats gathered around him; even the ones who had been heading for their nests returned to listen.

Glancing around the crowd of his denmates, Jagged Peak let out a sigh of resignation. Even so, Gray Wing could tell by the gleam in his eyes that he was glad to have a chance to share what he knew.

“First, you’ve got to promise not to tell any cat I told you this,” he began. “I don’t want it getting back to Clear Sky that I gave away his secrets.”

“We promise,” Rainswept Flower mewed.

“Sure,” Jackdaw’s Cry added, and a murmur of agreement rose from the rest of the cats.

“Okay,” Jagged Peak continued. “Now I want you to think like Clear Sky and his cats. What are your special skills? What do you do best? Hunt or chase? Can you climb trees or burrow through tunnels?”

“You’re best at burrowing,” Shattered Ice observed wryly.

A few snorts of amusement followed his words, though Gray Wing shivered at the memory of his brother buried in the tunnel.

Jagged Peak rolled his eyes. “Suppose we organized ourselves into groups,” he went on. “Rainswept Flower and Jackdaw’s Cry each have a good sense of smell and Turtle Tail has keen eyes. They would be good at patrolling the hollow and the territory around it. Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt are best with healing herbs, so that would be their job. Gray Wing, you’re fast, so you would be a good hunter. This is how Clear Sky organizes things. Each cat has a special role.” His gaze fell to the ground and his voice was quieter as he added, “Even I had a role, until . . .”

“Thank you, Jagged Peak,” Shattered Ice meowed.

Gray Wing realized that Tall Shadow was still missing.
She should have heard what Jagged Peak suggested
, he thought.
It’s her job to organize us
.

A loud voice broke in on his thoughts. “But I don’t
want
to patrol!” Jackdaw’s Cry insisted. “I’m better at hunting.”

“No, you’re not,” Shattered Ice snapped back. “You missed that rabbit the other day—”

Within a couple of heartbeats it seemed to Gray Wing that every cat was arguing over who should hunt, who should go on patrol, and who should guard the camp.

“That’s enough!” he yowled, raising his voice to make himself heard over the bickering. As the noise died down he shook his head sadly at Jagged Peak. “I’m sorry,” he mewed. “They’re not ready for this yet.”

“It was only a suggestion.” Jagged Peak climbed stiffly down from the boulder and headed into the darkness.

Rainswept Flower began to follow him, but Gray Wing raised his tail to stop her. “I know you want to help, but I think it’s best to let him be for now,” he advised. “He needs some time alone.”

The tabby she-cat looked as if she would have liked to argue, but after a moment she dipped her head politely. “Whatever you say, Gray Wing.”

Somehow, her deference disturbed Gray Wing. He turned away from her, only to realize that the other cats were crowding around him, talking excitedly among themselves.

“Remember how Gray Wing and Jagged Peak were clever enough to make it out of the mountains on their own?” Hawk Swoop meowed.

“That’s right,” Turtle Tail agreed, with an admiring look at Gray Wing. “I’m sure I couldn’t have done it. And he saved Thunder when the Twoleg den collapsed, and Storm and the other kits were all killed. I’ve never been so scared in my life, but Gray Wing was really brave!”

“He helped to save Jagged Peak today,” Rainswept Flower pointed out.

“He’s one of the fastest hunters on the moors,” Dappled Pelt added. “And he can get cats to work together. What more could we possibly want? He should be our new leader.”

Gray Wing had heard enough. “Stop it, all of you,” he protested. “Did you hear anything I said? I’m not a leader, and I don’t want to be. I saw how Clear Sky changed when he started thinking about boundaries and territories instead of individual cats.” He hesitated for a moment, the pain of estrangement from his brother sweeping over him like a cold wind. “Clear Sky is not the cat I used to know,” he finished.

“Oh, you’re just being modest,” Cloud Spots meowed. “We know you wouldn’t end up like Clear Sky.”

A chorus of agreement followed this declaration. Gray Wing raised a paw for silence and waited until the voices died away.

“Okay, I’m brave, or I try to be,” he began. “But I don’t have the skill of planning or the special authority that a leader needs.” He glanced around at the others, encouraged to see that they were at last listening to him. “Surely you remember Stoneteller?” he went on. “She wasn’t just brave; she knew how to take care of each cat like they were her own kit. I don’t have that in me.”

“Yes, you do!” Thunder interrupted, glaring indignantly up at Gray Wing. “I know—because of how you’ve cared for me, and because of what all the other cats say about you.”

“I don’t,” Gray Wing meowed abruptly. “None of us do. And I’d rather have Tall Shadow, who listens to every cat and tries to keep us together fairly, than Clear Sky, who thinks he can control who deserves to be in the forest.”

“But that’s what we’ve been telling you,” Shattered Ice declared. “You don’t
have
to be like Clear Sky. You would learn from his mistakes. You’d be a great leader.”

“A leader? Me?” Gray Wing felt anger surging inside him again as he thought of the chasms that had opened up since they left the mountains with such high hopes. “I couldn’t even keep my own family together! And look at you—all you’ve done today is bicker among yourselves. Now do as I asked, and go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

To his relief, no cat seemed inclined to go on arguing. Gradually they began to drift away to the edge of the hollow or the tunnels to sleep. There was still no sign of Tall Shadow.
She should have been here
, Gray Wing thought.
She shouldn’t have abandoned the argument so early
. Lots had been said—words Tall Shadow should have heard.

“Things need to change,” Shattered Ice muttered as he headed for his nest, and Gray Wing heard some murmurs of agreement.

Thunder pressed up against Gray Wing, as if he was trying to offer comfort. “How could you have kept your family together?” he asked. “It’s not your fault, the way Clear Sky is behaving.”

Gray Wing sighed. “It feels like it.”

Jagged Peak was watching them both silently, his eyes narrowed and the tip of his tail twitching. Something about the way the young cat was looking at Gray Wing made him uneasy.

“Thank you for trying to talk to the cats,” Gray Wing meowed, padding over to him.

“That’s just it, though,” Jagged Peak responded. “I
tried
. I didn’t succeed. They didn’t really listen to what I was telling them.”

Gray Wing suppressed a sigh.
When will Jagged Peak learn to like himself again?

C
HAPTER
8

The sun was going down, casting
long shadows across the moor. Gray Wing and Thunder were on their way back to the hollow after a session of hunting practice; Gray Wing was carrying a rabbit. He felt tired but satisfied, enjoying the last of the sunlight and the cool breeze ruffling his fur.

To his relief, when the cats woke after the dispute on the previous night, they had all settled into their usual routines without mentioning a change of leader again. Tall Shadow had reappeared and was organizing the camp with her trademark efficiency. Gray Wing hoped that they had heard the last of the argument.
It was all so stupid. I don’t even know why we were talking like that
.

He had intercepted Shattered Ice when the white tom was heading for the tunnel he was digging out with Jackdaw’s Cry. “I . . . uh . . . I’m sorry about last night,” Gray Wing meowed. “I didn’t mean to call you stupid.”

Shattered Ice had hesitated for a heartbeat, then dipped his head. “It’s okay. Maybe we all said things we didn’t mean.”

“I tried really hard, and I didn’t catch anything,” Thunder mewed despondently, breaking into Gray Wing’s thoughts. He had to admit that Thunder was still having problems. All his instincts were to hide and stalk; he didn’t seem to appreciate that out on the moor there was nowhere he could hide.
Not unless he can make himself invisible
, Gray Wing thought wryly.

Before they reached the camp, Gray Wing spotted a young bird hopping awkwardly across the grass, one wing trailing. He halted, dropped his prey, and touched Thunder on the shoulder with his tail-tip. “Look,” he murmured. “It must have fallen out of its nest.”

Thunder let out a sigh. “That’s not really hunting, is it? A young, injured bird?”

Gray Wing suppressed a hiss of exasperation. “Prey is prey, and you need all the practice you can get.”

Still looking reluctant, Thunder crouched down and began to creep up on the bird as it hopped toward a gorse thicket.

Just run after it!
Gray Wing wanted to yowl the words aloud, but he knew that he had to let Thunder work it out for himself.

As he watched, Thunder set his paw down on a twig; it cracked under his weight with a sharp sound. The bird’s head swiveled toward him and it let out a squawk of alarm as it dived into the center of the thicket. Thunder dashed after it, only to be brought up short by the barrier of thorns.

“Oh, Thunder, come on!” Gray Wing bounded over to his young kin, his tail lashing. “How many more times do I have to tell you? Out here, you don’t stalk, you run.”

Thunder swung around on him. “Stop criticizing me!” he spat.

Gray Wing couldn’t believe he had heard that, or how hurt he felt at the young cat’s words. “What have I done wrong? I’m trying to teach you what you need to learn.”

Thunder shook his head in frustration. “Can’t you see, Gray Wing? I’m tired. It’s the end of the day, and I’ve had enough. You don’t have to keep pushing me all the time.”

“Pushing you?” Gray Wing echoed.

“Yes, pushing me! And watching over me all the time as if I was a kit. I’m
not
a kit anymore!”

Pain clawed at Gray Wing’s heart as he saw the rebellious look in the young cat’s eyes. “I only want what’s best for you,” he meowed.

Thunder muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Gray Wing snapped, anger rising inside him, blotting out the pain. “Speak up!”

Thunder stared at him, his eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t always
know
what’s best for me!”

Silence stretched out between them. Gray Wing had to clamp his jaws shut to stop more hurtful words from pouring out of him. Finally he swung around, collected his rabbit, and began to stride back toward the hollow.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Thunder called after him.

Gray Wing didn’t respond.

Thunder caught up to him at the edge of the hollow. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Gray Wing set his prey down and nuzzled the young cat affectionately to show him that their quarrel was over. “It takes time to master your own techniques,” he reassured Thunder. “I know that. I should give you more room to grow. You’ll get there, I’m sure of it.”

Thunder lashed his tail in frustration. “I caught a shrew when I went into the forest with Shattered Ice,” he complained. “I felt as if I knew what to do when I had all the cover in the undergrowth. But out here, I keep messing up. I feel like I’m letting you and all the other cats down. I want to be a cat you can depend on. Especially after everything that happened yesterday.”

“You will be—” Gray Wing began.

He broke off as Thunder suddenly whipped around and raced toward a clump of gorse bushes. Gray Wing stared after him, startled, until he spotted a mouse crouched under one of the outlying branches.
Well spotted, Thunder!
he thought, feeling his fur prickle with pride in his kin. He could see the young cat’s courage and strong sense of honor.
He’ll grow into an outstanding cat. . . .

Before he could see whether Thunder made his catch, a cry came from the hollow. “Come quick! Turtle Tail is having her kits!”

For a heartbeat Gray Wing froze.
So soon! She’s lucky she came back to us when she did
. He pictured Turtle Tail giving birth alone in some exposed spot on the moor, and then trying to hunt for herself and care for her kits at the same time. He was glad that she was safe in the camp.

Abandoning the rabbit, Gray Wing burst into movement and hurtled down into the camp. Thunder raced along beside him, his hunt forgotten.

Rainswept Flower was standing in the entrance of Turtle Tail’s tunnel with Jagged Peak beside her. “Keep back, all of you,” she ordered.

Gazing past her, Gray Wing could see Turtle Tail lying stretched out on a bed of moss and dried ferns. Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt were with her; Dappled Pelt was stroking her belly, while Cloud Spots bent his head over a tiny mound of wet fur. Gray Wing’s relief intensified.
Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots can help her through this. . . .

He wriggled his way through the crowd until he stood in front of Jagged Peak and Rainswept Flower. “Let me through!” he demanded.

Jagged Peak limped forward to bar his way. “Not yet,” he meowed. “Turtle Tail needs her space.”

Gray Wing gave his brother a surprised glance. “You’d stop me?”

Jagged Peak dipped his head. “I’m only doing what’s necessary.”

“That’s right,” Rainswept Flower agreed. “You can go in and see her when she’s ready.”

I won’t be kept away!
Gray Wing barely understood the emotions that made him push past the two cats to enter the tunnel. He stumbled to a halt beside Turtle Tail. She was breathing in shallow rapid pants. The atmosphere was warm and stifled; there was a tang of blood in the air. As Gray Wing approached she raised her head a little and let out a feeble purr.

“I said you couldn’t. . . .” Rainswept Flower had followed Gray Wing, outraged, but Cloud Spots raised a paw to silence her.

“It’s okay now. Say hello to the new kits,” Cloud Spots told Gray Wing, his voice shaky. Gray Wing was surprised. For all his experience with herbs, Cloud Spots looked slightly queasy at the sight of the three damp, blood-streaked bundles.

Gray Wing looked down, and was instantly fascinated by the tiny creatures as they squirmed in the bedding alongside their mother, their eyes still closed. He remembered seeing his brother and sister, Jagged Peak and Fluttering Bird, just after they were born, and he felt the same deep connection with these kits, amazed at how perfect they were.

“They’re wonderful,” he whispered. “Turtle Tail, the little tortoiseshell is just like you.”

“Two toms and a she-cat,” Dappled Pelt meowed. “You’re all done, Turtle Tail. Three strong, healthy kits.”

Two of the kits were already vigorously drinking Turtle Tail’s milk. The third was scrabbling blindly among the moss, letting out pitiful squeaks as he sought his mother. Gray Wing reached out a paw and gently nudged him so that he could find Turtle Tail. The squeaking stopped as the kit began to suck next to his littermates.

“They’re small,” Gray Wing murmured, gazing into Turtle Tail’s eyes, “but they’re fighters. You’ll make the best mother in the world.”

For some reason, his praise made pain flood into Turtle Tail’s face. She glanced down at her kits. “If only they had a father . . . ,” she whispered.

When she turned to Gray Wing, he could read her questioning expression and the depth of love in her eyes.
Love for her kits, surely. She can’t possibly mean
 . . . Suddenly unsure of himself, Gray Wing took a hasty step back. “I’ll leave you in peace,” he mewed. “You need to sleep.”

Rainswept Flower followed him out of the tunnel and raised her voice above the babble from the cats gathered around the entrance. “Turtle Tail has three healthy kits!” she announced.

Gray Wing heard the yowls of approval as he padded back to his own mossy nest. He tried not to think of the pain and love in Turtle Tail’s eyes, or of what it meant.
I need time to think
 . . . Not just about Turtle Tail, but about his own behavior. He’d insisted on forcing his way through to see her. Why? He wasn’t the father; he had no right there. And yet, something had made him want to be one of the first cats to meet Turtle Tail’s new kits.

Gray Wing woke to the sound of rushing water in his ears. He sneezed as a feather tickled his nose, and opened his eyes to find himself in the cave behind the waterfall.

What . . . ? How did I get back here?

He sprang to his paws, gazing around him wildly. Moonlight shone from behind the falling water, turning it into a screen of icy starlight.

In the frosty shimmer Gray Wing saw that the cats were all sleeping. He spotted his mother, Quiet Rain, alone in her nest, and Dewy Leaf curled around two healthy-looking kits. He couldn’t see any of the cats who had made the journey with him from the mountains.

They all look well fed
, Gray Wing thought as he padded from one sleeping hollow to the next.
It’s as if we did the right thing to leave. I
must
be dreaming . . . but oh, I wish it were true!

“Gray Wing!”

The clear meow came from the back of the cave. Gray Wing turned toward the sound and saw Stoneteller standing there, her white pelt turned to glowing silver in the light from the cave opening.

“Gray Wing, come with me,” she invited, beckoning him with her tail.

Without waiting to see if he would follow, Stoneteller led the way down one of the tunnels that led out of the far end of the cavern. Apprehension prickled at Gray Wing’s pads. He knew that the tunnel led to Stoneteller’s den, the Cave of Pointed Stones.

He padded into the darkness, aware of damp rock beneath his paws, and Stoneteller’s scent wafted back to him. Soon gray light filtered into the tunnel from somewhere up ahead, and he saw the outline of Stoneteller’s head before she stepped aside and left the end of the tunnel clear.

Gray Wing emerged and halted, staring, awe trickling through him like icy water. The cave was much smaller than the main cavern where the Tribe lived, lit by moonlight that shone through a jagged crack high above his head. Pointed stones rose up from the floor and others hung down from the roof; some had joined together so that Gray Wing felt as if he was standing on the edge of a forest made of stone.

On the floor of the cave, puddles of water gleamed with reflected moonlight. Stoneteller stood beside one of them, still beckoning him closer with her tail.

“Welcome, Gray Wing,” she mewed as he padded up to join her. “This is the Cave of Pointed Stones, where I read the signs our ancestors send us.”

Gray Wing’s mind spun with confusion. “How . . . how did I get here?” he stammered. “Did you bring me?”

Stoneteller shook her head. “We both walk in dreams, dear friend,” she replied, her voice deep and soft in spite of her age and frailty. “And my heart tells me that I have a message for you.”

Gray Wing’s ears pricked alertly. “What is it?”

“A new life awaits you, Gray Wing,” the white she-cat told him. “You must turn your paws onto a new path.”