Warriors: Dawn of the Clans #1: The Sun Trail (22 page)

Gray Wing loped across the moor
toward the trees. Cold claws of wind penetrated his fur and the grass under his paws was stiff with frost. The cold season was coming again.

Ahead of him the green mass of the forest was blotched with brown and yellow and russet. As Gray Wing drew closer the wind whirled dead leaves into his face. Under the outlying branches he spotted Rainswept Flower, leaping and bounding to and fro, her paws outstretched as she tried to catch the leaves before they reached the ground.

Gray Wing halted to watch her. “Having fun?” he asked after a few moments.

Rainswept Flower spun around and stood blinking in embarrassment, her forepaws scuffling the ground. “Well . . . er . . . it’s good exercise,” she mewed.

Gray Wing let out a sympathetic purr. “The forest is changing so much. All these colors . . . and the leaves falling. It was never like this in the mountains.”

“We didn’t have trees like these,” Rainswept Flower agreed.

She leaped into a drift of leaves in a hollow among the roots of a tree. Scrambling up with bits of leaf sticking to her pelt, she let out a yowl of delight. “I love the crunching sound they make!”

Gray Wing’s paws itched to try, though he knew he needed to keep hunting. Just then, Jackdaw’s Cry appeared through the trees, his tail twitching and his eyes sparking with anger.

“What’s wrong?” Gray Wing asked, padding up to him.

“I just tried to visit Falling Feather,” the black tom growled. “But some cat I’ve never set eyes on before turned me away. He said Clear Sky didn’t want any cat in that part of the forest.”

“That’s flea-brained!” Rainswept Flower exclaimed. “Didn’t you tell him Falling Feather is your sister?”

“Of course I did,” Jackdaw’s Cry replied. “It didn’t do any good. He just showed me his claws . . . and he was a lot bigger than me.”

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Gray Wing meowed, remembering how Fox had halted him on the way to his brother’s new home. “Clear Sky would never stop any of us from visiting.”

Jackdaw’s Cry let out a grunt of annoyance. “Then he should make sure his cats know that.”

Gray Wing thought for a moment. “I’ll go and see what’s happening down there,” he decided. “I haven’t been to Clear Sky’s part of the forest for a long time.”
And I haven’t seen Storm in over two moons.

He plunged into the trees until he met the stream, then followed it down toward the hollow where his brother lived. As he veered along the track that led to Clear Sky’s home, he picked up a number of mingled cat scents, some of which were new to him.

Clear Sky must be gathering more rogues to live with him
.

He was drawing close to the clearing when two cats stepped out of the undergrowth and blocked his way. One was Fox, the other a vaguely familiar white tom; Gray Wing realized he was one of the rogues who had attacked Storm. The yellow she-cat, Petal, was sitting on an old stump a couple of tail-lengths away.

“What are you doing here?” the white tom demanded roughly.

Gray Wing bit back an angry reply. “I’ve come to visit Clear Sky.”

“He’s Clear Sky’s brother,” Fox put in. “But that doesn’t give him the right to hang around here anytime he feels like it.”

“Well, that’s a good excuse,” the white tom sneered. “I think you’ve come to steal our prey,” he added to Gray Wing.

“How is it ‘your’ prey?” Gray Wing’s neck fur began to bristle up as anger started to build inside him like a gathering storm cloud. “It’s not yours just because it’s near where you live. Prey is for every cat.”

“Well, Clear Sky doesn’t see it that way,” Fox snarled, sliding out his claws. “I think you’d better shove off, before we make you.”

Gray Wing hesitated, wondering what to do.
I can’t fight both of them!

“Now,” the white tom growled, taking a pace forward so that he stood nose to nose with Gray Wing.

“What’s going on?” The clear meow came from behind Gray Wing; he felt it like the touch of cool water on a hot day. He turned to see Storm. “Hello,” she continued, with a friendly nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

Gray Wing dipped his head, hardly knowing what to say to her.

Before he could find words, the white tom turned to Storm. “This rogue was stealing our prey,” he explained.

“Really?” Storm mewed cuttingly. “I don’t see him
carrying
any prey, do you? I don’t smell any prey-scent on him. Could it be that you’re just a pair of crow-food-eating flea-brains?”

“We’re only doing our job,” Fox protested.

Storm rolled her eyes. “This is Clear Sky’s brother, Gray Wing. You’ve met him before, Fox, and you, Petal,” she added to the she-cat, who was trying to look as if she wasn’t involved with any of this. “He can visit Clear Sky any time he likes. Come on, Gray Wing.”

With a contemptuous flick of her tail, Storm pushed past the two toms and led the way down the track toward Clear Sky’s clearing.

“Why are those cats so hostile?” Gray Wing asked, his confusion pushing aside the awkwardness he felt meeting Storm again.

Storm glanced at him over her shoulder. “Clear Sky thinks it’s important to build a strong community, and he believes part of that is keeping other cats away from the prey that we hunt.”

“I see,” Gray Wing murmured, though he wasn’t sure that was true.
Isn’t there enough prey for every cat?
“How do you like it here in the forest?” he asked.

“It’s a safe place where cats can look out for each other,” said Storm, with another flashing glance back at him. “Clear Sky and I will be happy to have our kits grow up here.”

Gray Wing felt that the words would choke him, but he forced them out. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

As Gray Wing and Storm pushed their way through the barrier of ferns that surrounded Clear Sky’s clearing, Clear Sky rushed over to them. Ignoring Gray Wing, he laid his tail across Storm’s shoulders.

“Why did you leave the camp?” he demanded. “You should be resting! What about our kits?”

I guess losing Bright Stream has made Clear Sky extra protective
, Gray Wing thought.

Storm didn’t seem to appreciate Clear Sky’s concern. “I’m not going to break apart because I go for a walk,” she retorted.

“It’s still a risk you don’t need to take,” Clear Sky asserted. “Now go to your nest and take a nap.”

Storm’s eyes blazed with fury, but she didn’t protest, just stalked off and disappeared under an elder bush.

Gray Wing felt awkward that he’d witnessed their argument, but his embarrassment faded a moment later as Jagged Peak came bouncing up to him. “Gray Wing! It’s so good to see you! I’ve got so much to tell you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Gray Wing responded. Jagged Peak was almost fully grown now, his eyes bright and his pelt shining with health. “Are you—”

“I’m quite busy just now,” Clear Sky interrupted. “What do you want, Gray Wing? And by the way, Jagged Peak, you’re supposed to be hunting. Off you go.”

Gray Wing blinked in surprise to hear Clear Sky giving orders, but Jagged Peak didn’t seem to mind. Ducking his head to Gray Wing, he scampered off happily.

“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Gray Wing asked, flicking his tail toward the pool at the center of the camp. No cats were there, and he wanted to be sure he could tackle Clear Sky without any of the others butting in.

Clear Sky twitched his ears impatiently, then nodded. “Sure, help yourself.”

Gray Wing padded to the water’s edge and lapped a couple of mouthfuls he didn’t really want. He took a moment to collect himself, then he turned back to his brother.

“Jackdaw’s Cry told me that he wasn’t allowed to come and see Falling Feather,” he meowed, shaking water droplets from his whiskers. “I wanted to know what that’s all about.”

Clear Sky shrugged. “I know Fox and Frost can be a bit too keen on guarding the boundaries,” he admitted, “but it’s the only way to keep cats safe.”

“What?” Gray Wing looked at his brother in confusion. “Boundaries?”

“I’m trying to protect our new home,” Clear Sky explained, sounding a bit defensive.

“I can see that.” Gray Wing chose his words carefully. “But it worries me that you’re creating divisions between us—I mean between the cats who came from the mountains.”

“That’s not true!” Clear Sky insisted. “You’re all welcome to visit at any time.”

“Then maybe you should tell Fox and Frost that—” Gray Wing began.

A terrified screech interrupted him, and he spun around to see Falling Feather and Moon Shadow racing across the clearing.

“What happened?” Clear Sky demanded.

“It’s Jagged Peak!” Falling Feather panted. “We were hunting a squirrel, and he fell from the tree.”

“He can’t get up,” Moon Shadow added.

“Show me,” Clear Sky snapped.

Gray Wing’s belly lurched with anxiety as he followed his brother and the other cats out of the clearing.
Not Jagged Peak
, he thought, anguished, remembering the young cat’s energy and courage.
He can’t be dead!

A few tail-lengths into the forest the cats halted at the foot of a tall beech tree. Jagged Peak lay in a clump of crushed fern; relief rushed through Gray Wing as he heard his little brother groan.
He’s alive!

But one of Jagged Peak’s hind legs lay at an odd angle. Blood was trickling from a gash and clotting in his fur.

“What can we do?” Falling Feather asked worriedly.

“I’ll get Dappled Pelt or Cloud Spots,” Gray Wing meowed at once. “They’ll know how to help him.” He set off at once, only halting for a heartbeat to yowl back at Clear Sky, “Tell Fox and Frost to let us through!”

Gray Wing raced along the edge of the trees and back across the moor, forcing out every last scrap of speed. Wind blew through his fur and he felt the rough moorland grass scrape his belly.

When he reached the hollow, Cloud Spots was out hunting, but Dappled Pelt was there, stretched out in a patch of weak sunshine and talking quietly with Shattered Ice. She leaped to her paws at once when Gray Wing told her what had happened.

“Of course I’ll come,” she mewed. They set off.

Clear Sky and his cats hadn’t dared to move Jagged Peak from where he lay among the ferns. Falling Feather was crouching beside him, licking him gently and murmuring encouragement. She rose and stepped back when she saw Dappled Pelt. “Can you do anything?” she asked.

“I’m sure I can,” Dappled Pelt replied soothingly. “Jagged Peak, I’m going to take a look at your leg, and then decide what’s best.”

“Okay,” the little cat rasped, his voice taut with pain. “I’m glad you’re here, Dappled Pelt.”

The slender tortoiseshell bent over Jagged Peak’s leg, sniffing all down its length. “Do you have any marigold?” she asked Clear Sky.

“We can get some,” Clear Sky replied. He flicked his ears toward Moon Shadow. “You know where it grows?”

Moon Shadow nodded and dashed off.

“Gray Wing, can you find me two long, straight sticks?” Dappled Pelt asked. “And a few lengths of bindweed.”

“Right,” Gray Wing responded.

He padded deeper into the wood, spotting bindweed twining around a fallen tree, and a tangled heap that he suspected was an old rook’s nest. He chose two straight sticks, and tore off some bindweed, then made his way back to Jagged Peak.

“Thanks, Gray Wing,” Dappled Pelt meowed. “Jagged Peak’s leg is broken,” she continued, “but if we bind it up with these sticks, the bones will join again. I’ve never done this before, but I watched Stoneteller once when Sharp Hail fell off a rock. He was fine. You will be too, Jagged Peak.”

“I hope so,” the little cat murmured.

“Now this is going to hurt a bit,” Dappled Pelt warned him. “Some cat find him another stick to bite on.”

After Clear Sky had shoved another stick between Jagged Peak’s jaws, Dappled Pelt straightened his injured leg and fastened the two sticks on either side of it with the lengths of bindweed. Jagged Peak let out a shrill wail and bit down on the stick so hard that it splintered.

“Okay,” Dappled Pelt mewed. “The worst is over. You were very brave, Jagged Peak.”

Moon Shadow reappeared with a mouthful of marigold, which Dappled Pelt chewed up. She trickled the juice into the gash on Jagged Peak’s leg.

“He needs more of that every day,” she instructed Clear Sky. “And he could do with thyme for the shock, and poppy seed to help him sleep. Do you have any of that?”

“We can find some,” Clear Sky replied. “But, will you stay and look after him? He needs you.”

Dappled Pelt looked startled, exchanging a glance with Gray Wing. “I suppose so,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation. “Gray Wing, help me carry Jagged Peak to his nest. Be careful not to jog that injured leg.”

Jagged Peak was obviously in pain as they moved him back to his nest in the camp, and he was barely conscious by the time they settled him among the moss and fern.

“Clear Sky is right; I do need to stay,” Dappled Pelt meowed, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Gray Wing, will you let Tall Shadow know where I am?”

“Of course,” said Gray Wing. Bidding good-bye to her and to Clear Sky, he left the camp, trying to glimpse Storm as he padded past the elder bush. But all he could see was a pale blur that might have been her silver fur, lost in the shadows of her den. She didn’t call out to him.