The Blazing Star (4 page)

“It's true,” Holly put in. “When you're hard to please, like me, you definitely get the sense of which cats deserve the benefit of the doubt. And Mud Paws is an excellent stalker. Those paws will take him anywhere, as silently as a spirit-cat.”

“Spirit-cats?” Tall Shadow asked, pawing the ground. “What do you mean?”

Mouse Ear looked confused. “It's just an expression we have,” he explained. “There aren't really spirit-cats living here. That would be too weird,” he finished with a pretend shudder.

Thunder took care not to catch Tall Shadow's eye.
So these cats didn't witness everything that went on last night. They didn't see the spirit-cats.

Exhaustion rolled over him again like a dark cloud. All he wanted was to curl up in his nest. He could hear approving murmurs from his denmates, and see some of them nodding. “Come on, then,” he said to the three strangers. “You can accompany us.”

With a sweep of his tail he signaled his cats to get moving again. His limbs aching, every paw step an effort, he led the newcomers across the moor to the hollow.

C
HAPTER
3

Gray Wing stood beneath the spreading
branches of the four oaks, his gaze fixed on the earth that covered the cats who had fallen in battle. Though almost a moon had passed since then, he could still hear the yowls of defiance and the screeches of pain, as if that terrible struggle would never stop. The taste of blood remained in his throat, as if he had been jerked back into that dreadful time. But already the ground had settled, and grass had even begun to grow again in the bare earth.

In the future, no cat will have any idea that this is a burial place,
he thought sorrowfully.
But
I'll
never forget. And I'll make sure that the others remember these fallen cats . . . and Turtle Tail, too. She should not have died alone in the Twolegplace.

Slowly Gray Wing began to groom himself, licking one forepaw and drawing it over his ears. His wounds had healed and his breathing was almost back to normal, yet he knew that nothing would ever erase the scars in his heart.

“So much has changed,” he sighed aloud, “inside and out.”

Gray Wing felt that he couldn't even lead a hungry cat to a pile of prey, much less take responsibility for their whole group. He knew some of his denmates would be glad to see
him take up the leadership again, but nothing was further from his thoughts.
Not without Turtle Tail's support,
he sighed inwardly.

Gray Wing pricked his ears at the sound of paw steps padding up behind him. Without turning his head, he knew that a cat had come to sit beside him.

“I never thought I'd see such death here.” Gray Wing recognized the voice of the loner, River Ripple. “This is my first time back since the battle.”

Gray Wing nodded his head in acknowledgment, his dark memories threatening to overwhelm him. He remembered the hopes he and his denmates had shared when they set out from the mountains, looking for a better home. His body shivered at the painful realization that the journey had led so many of them to their deaths.
Turtle Tail, Bright Stream, Moon Shadow . . .
and that wasn't all. Rainswept Flower, Hawk Swoop, Falling Feather, Jackdaw's Cry—all gone.

“By next greenleaf,” River Ripple went on, his voice gentle, “this grave will be covered in wildflowers. You should not keep returning, day after day.”

Greenleaf . . .
Gray Wing was momentarily puzzled.
Ah, that's the rogue cats' name for the warm season.
Recently the mountain cats and their descendants had begun using these terms, too. Gray Wing twitched his whiskers. “How do you know what I'm doing?” he asked. “I thought you said you hadn't been back here until now?”

River Ripple let out a soft
mrrow
of laughter. “Oh, Gray Wing, have you learned nothing? I may be a loner, but I know
more than any cat. I see what you all do and where you go.” Gray Wing felt the brief touch of a tail-tip on his shoulder. “Stop tormenting yourself,” River Ripple went on. “There's nothing for you here. Go back to the cats who love you.”

Gray Wing felt his throat tighten and when he managed to speak his voice was wet and raspy. “I can't bear to think of them, all alone.”

“But they're not alone,” River Ripple told him. “Didn't you see them among the spirit-cats? They're not buried beneath the earth; they're running with the stars.” He gave Gray Wing a gentle nudge. “Stop fretting—do you think your old friends are hanging around here, waiting for you to visit? Of course they're not. You must think of the living . . .
they're
the cats who need you now.”

Gray Wing turned to face River Ripple, knowing that he was right. Something within him calmed. “Thank you for being so kind,” he mewed, touching noses with the silver-furred tom. “Are you sure you won't come to live with the rest of us in the hollow?”

River Ripple shook his head. “Thanks, but no.”

“Okay,” Gray Wing meowed. “But will we see you back here when we meet again?”

“Yes, I'll come,” River Ripple answered. “I'll be too curious to stay away. And in the meantime, if I catch you here again, I'll be demanding the prey from your next hunt!”

In response, Gray Wing leaped away, racing through the trees toward the hollow. “You'd have to catch me first!” he called back over his shoulder.

When Gray Wing reached the edge of the hollow, he spotted Thunder at the far side, near the rock where Tall Shadow kept watch. Mouse Ear and Mud Paws were with him.

As he padded toward them, Gray Wing realized that Thunder was teaching the former rogues how to use the rabbit burrows when they were hunting. “Jump out like this!” he instructed, pushing off with his hind legs into a massive leap from a crouching start.

Gray Wing watched, the sight calling up the memory of when he was training Thunder, along with Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail.
I still can't believe Acorn Fur lives with Clear Sky now,
Gray Wing thought sadly. He forced his mind into a happier path, recalling earlier practices—how Thunder used to trip over his large, white paws when he was a kit.

Not anymore.

Gray Wing let out a purr of satisfaction. Thunder had grown into a formidable cat.
He's come a long way. I can step back and know the group is safe.

A scamper of paw steps distracted Gray Wing from his thoughts as Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes rushed past him, eager to join the training session.

“Hey! You know better than that!” Thunder called sharply as they tumbled into the group.

Sparrow Fur had barreled straight against Mouse Ear, who stared down at her in shock and snarled, “Get off my paws, midget!”

The young she-cat's eyes sparkled and she gave Mouse Ear
a teasing nip on the back of the leg before she jumped back. Mouse Ear let out a growl and batted at her, but his paw barely skimmed her fur, and his claws were sheathed.

“Annoying furball!” he muttered.

Thunder rolled his eyes. “This is a training session, not a wrestling match,” he meowed, giving Sparrow Fur a hard stare. “Now concentrate! Let's see your pouncing again. See that stone over there? Pretend it's a mouse!” He watched approvingly as all the cats crouched and then leaped for the imaginary prey.

“Oh, stop whining and just do it! You'd think you didn't have paws at all!”

Gray Wing jumped with shock as the mocking voice interrupted the training session. It was coming from just outside the hollow, and for a moment he couldn't identify the cat who had spoken. Slightly disturbed, he climbed the slope again.

Beyond the camp Gray Wing spotted Jagged Peak, halfway up one of the twisted thorn trees that grew nearby. He was clinging to a branch, his claws sunk deeply into the bark, his eyes wide with apprehension.

Holly stood at the other side of a narrow gully that became a stream after heavy rain. She was looking up at Jagged Peak with a smirk on her face.

“Come on!” she repeated. “Just jump! I'm not standing here all morning listening to you complain.”

Gray Wing felt his heart begin to beat faster and his shoulder fur bristle as he started toward them.
What is Holly doing? Jagged Peak can't make that jump!

“You should talk!” Jagged Peak retorted to the she-cat. “After the way you've been whining about having to share prey!”

Gray Wing halted as his younger brother hurled himself out of the tree, easily clearing the gully and landing beside Holly with a thump.

“See, I did it,” he meowed, giving her a smug look. “Happy now?”

A half-stifled
mrrow
of laughter sounded behind Gray Wing, who turned to see Cloud Spots padding up to him.

“It's not funny!” Gray Wing snapped. “That new rogue is picking on Jagged Peak. Someone needs to teach her . . .” His voice trailed off as he noticed the amusement glimmering in Cloud Spots's eyes.

“Stay out of it,” Cloud Spots advised him. “I don't believe it's what you think it is. Besides, Jagged Peak can take care of himself.”

Can he?
Gray Wing asked himself. Ever since his younger brother was injured falling out of a tree he had always assumed that Jagged Peak
couldn't
take care of himself.
Have I been unfair to him?

Leaving Holly and Jagged Peak to their own peculiar kind of training, Gray Wing headed back into the hollow, to where Thunder and his cats were still practicing their pounces. Before he reached them, Pebble Heart appeared out of their den, and padded up to walk alongside him.

Since he was a young kit, the tabby tom had shown healing skills, sometimes mysteriously knowing how to treat illnesses
without being told. He had strange dreams, too: Gray Wing's pelt prickled as he remembered Pebble Heart telling him about a dream of cats screeching and clawing at one another—a vision of the battle before it took place.

Since Turtle Tail's death, Gray Wing sensed that something had changed deep inside Pebble Heart. He seemed more thoughtful and focused. After the battle he had helped to take care of the wounded, showing infinite patience and the authority of a much older cat. Gray Wing had the feeling that the little tom's paws might be small now, but the steps he was destined to take would be big.

A surge of warmth swelled up inside Gray Wing's chest and, for once, it was nothing to do with his breathing problems.
I promise I'll be a good father to all three of these kits. I'll do my very best for them.

“Have you had any more dreams?” he asked Pebble Heart.

“No . . .” Pebble Heart replied hesitantly.

But Gray Wing felt certain that his adopted son wasn't telling him everything. Sadness and anger mingled in his heart.
Surely if there's any cat he can trust, it's me?
But then he reminded himself that Pebble Heart would share his secrets when the time was right. Nothing would be gained by nagging him.

Gray Wing comforted himself with the thought that he had allowed Thunder to find his own path.
And look at him now
—
teaching the younger cats and the rogues. He's every bit a leader!

“Okay, keep practicing,” Thunder told the other cats, before breaking away and padding up to Gray Wing. “Did you see Clear Sky or any of the others while you were out?” he asked.

“Only River Ripple,” Gray Wing replied.

Since the battle, the moorland cats had seen Clear Sky and his followers from time to time. They had shared a few polite words, and even prey, then gone their separate ways. It was a relief that the territory borders weren't being jealously guarded, but Gray Wing couldn't help feeling that things could be better. Stiff politeness was all very well, but it was a far cry from the close friendship they had felt for one another on their journey out of the mountains.

“It's not long before the next meeting at the four trees,” Thunder went on. “Do you think the spirit-cats will appear again?”