Warriors: Dawn of the Clans #1: The Sun Trail (24 page)

For a moment Clear Sky was utterly dumbfounded.

In the silence, Storm turned to Gray Wing. “I’m sorry,” she meowed. “I should have understood all this when I saw how Clear Sky treated Jagged Peak.”

Dipping her head to Gray Wing, she gave Clear Sky a long, sorrowful look, then turned and padded off through the bracken.

Gray Wing swung around urgently to
face Clear Sky. “Go after her!” he pleaded. “Bring her back and help her raise your kits. She needs you!”

Clear Sky didn’t move, though there was sadness in his eyes as he watched Storm leave. “It’s no use,” he mewed. “I must put my community of cats first. If Storm can’t accept my decisions, then we can’t be together.”

“But don’t you love her?” Gray Wing protested.

“Of course I do. But she made her choice, and my future lies here.”

The anger in Clear Sky’s voice and expression had faded, replaced by an icy determination. Gray Wing realized that nothing was going to make him change his mind.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Gray Wing meowed. “And I’m sorry about Fox. I didn’t mean to . . . but he attacked me first.”

“He was doing his duty.” Clear Sky turned to go, then glanced back. “How is Jagged Peak?”

Gray Wing felt a tiny spark of hope. “He is doing fine,” he replied. “Cloud Spots has worked out some exercises to strengthen his good legs. Jagged Peak complains all the time, but he does them.” Feeling slightly daring, he added, “Why don’t you come and visit him?”

For a heartbeat Clear Sky hesitated. Then he shook his head. “What’s past is past,” he mewed. “I can’t look back. I have responsibilities now, cats to protect, and that means I have to let Storm and Jagged Peak go.”

Gray Wing was disturbed by the intensity in Clear Sky’s blue eyes as he spoke. He sighed, accepting that Clear Sky had set his paws on this path, and nothing would make him turn back. “If you change your mind, you’re always welcome,” he told Clear Sky.

Though I wonder if that’s true
, he added silently to himself.
Would Tall Shadow welcome him into our camp? Would Jagged Peak?

Dipping his head to Clear Sky, he turned and headed back toward the moor.

The cold season clamped its claws onto the moor, freezing the streams and pools and turning the grass to thorns of ice. Hawk Swoop was huge with kits, and Gray Wing spent a morning helping Jackdaw’s Cry dig out a new, bigger den in the tunnels so that she would be sheltered from the cold winds when she gave birth.

“This is wonderful!” she sighed as she flopped down in the nest of moss and bracken the toms had prepared for her. “Now I can’t wait for the kits to be here.”

Gray Wing left her with Jackdaw’s Cry and went out into the open, feeling a cold breeze ruffle his fur. Seeing Hawk Swoop so close to kitting reminded him of Storm.
She must have had her kits by now
, he thought.
It’s been a moon since she went back to the Twolegplace. I hope she’s okay
. As soon as he had formed the words, he knew what he had to do.

He had to go and look for Storm.

The race across the moor warmed Gray Wing and left his heart pounding. When he reached the forest he chose a path that took him around Clear Sky’s camp in a wide circle.
I’ve got to avoid trouble today. I’ve more important things to do than arguing with Clear Sky and his cats
.

Gray Wing’s paws slowed as he reached the outskirts of the Twolegplace, but he made himself carry on. As he moved cautiously along the hard stone paths, he looked for landmarks that would take him to the den where Turtle Tail and Bumble lived.

They might know where Storm is staying now. And it will be good to see Turtle Tail again
.

At first Gray Wing made good progress. He remembered a big den with a strong reek of monsters and rows of thick, weirdly colored tree trunks standing outside, and an open space with a stretch of grass and bushes and Twoleg kits running here and there and yowling.

But as Gray Wing turned the corner beside the open space, he heard a sudden flurry of barking. Whipping around, he saw a small black dog hurtling toward him.

Fear slammed into Gray Wing. He raced down the path with the dog hard on his paws. At the next corner, he knew he should cross the Thunderpath, but monsters were growling past in both directions, and if he stopped to wait for them the dog would catch him. Gray Wing rounded the corner and pelted on.

Moments later he knew that he was lost. Twoleg fences and dens passed him in a blur as he fled from the dog. Though he didn’t dare to pause and look back, he could hear its barking close behind him, and smell its rank scent.

Then Gray Wing darted around another corner and halted in dismay. The end of the path was closed off by a huge Twoleg den. There was no way out; it was as though he was trapped in a tunnel, with the dog at its mouth. With nothing else to do, he turned, bracing himself to fight.

The dog was bounding down the path toward him, its jaws gaping. But before it reached him, Gray Wing heard a voice above his head.

“Gray Wing! Up here!”

Gray Wing’s eyes widened in shock as he looked up and saw Turtle Tail, balancing on a ledge beneath a hole in the side of the Twoleg den. He bunched his muscles, and as the dog bore down on him he leaped. Turtle Tail leaned over, grabbing his scruff to help him scramble onto the ledge beside her.

“Thanks!” Gray Wing gasped.

The dog stood just underneath, yapping in annoyance.

“Shove off, flea-pelt,” Turtle Tail meowed, then added to Gray Wing, “This way.”

Jumping from the ledge to the top of a wall, Turtle Tail led the way past several Twoleg dens until the wall came to an end and she had to leap down onto a stretch of smooth grass.

“It’s such a surprise to see you!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining as Gray Wing jumped down beside her. “It’s so great that you came to visit me and Bumble.”

Gray Wing gave his shoulder an embarrassed lick. “Actually, I’m looking for Storm,” he admitted.

Though Turtle Tail didn’t move, the light died from her eyes. “Oh,” she mewed flatly.

“I know she came back to the Twolegplace,” Gray Wing continued, aware that somehow he was saying the wrong thing, but needing to discover anything Turtle Tail could tell him. “Have you seen her? Do you know where she’s living now?”

Turtle Tail seemed reluctant to answer, scuffling the grass with her paws. “I’m not sure—”

“Of course we know!” A new voice joined in, and Gray Wing looked up to see Bumble sitting on the fence at the opposite side of the stretch of grass. The plump tortoiseshell plopped down and padded over to join them. “Don’t you remember, Turtle Tail? Storm went to live in that old monster den.”

“Oh . . . yes,” Turtle Tail muttered.

Gray Wing was pretty sure she had known all the time. “Thanks, Bumble,” he meowed. “Can you show me the way?”

Bumble hesitated for a moment. “I won’t go
in
with you. That place gives me the creeps.”

Gray Wing glanced at Turtle Tail, wondering if she would come too. But she simply mewed, “I’ll see you later,” and streaked across the grass to the fence, leaping over it and vanishing.

Sad and confused, Gray Wing followed Bumble back along the wall, then down beside a Thunderpath with monsters passing by so close together that he almost despaired of getting across. The noise beat at his ears and he felt the stink soaking into his fur.

Finally a gap opened up; Bumble yowled, “Now!” and they darted across side by side. Another monster roared by as they reached the other side; the wind of its passing ruffled their fur.

“That only missed us by a paw-length!” Gray Wing exclaimed.

Bumble led him past Twoleg dens with huge holes in their sides, covered by shiny transparent stuff that showed glaring lights and bright colors within. Crowds of Twolegs were walking to and fro; Bumble and Gray Wing had to slip along close to the wall to avoid their clumping paws.

“I don’t know how you can stand living here!” Gray Wing exclaimed.

Bumble glanced back at him. “Well, I don’t know how you can stand living out in the open, getting cold and wet the whole time. We both get used to it, I guess.”

Eventually Bumble led Gray Wing around another corner. A vast red stone den stood in front of them. Empty holes gaped in its side, and a huge entrance yawned like an open mouth.

Bumble flicked her tail. “There you go. I’ll wait for you and show you the way back.”

Gray Wing’s eyes widened in shock. “Storm lives in
there
?”

Bumble nodded. “There aren’t many places to stay around here, if you don’t live with a Twoleg.”

Horrified, forcing back panic, Gray Wing padded up to the entrance and went inside. The only light came from the holes in the walls. A vast stretch of stone lay in front of him, broken at intervals by stone trees that held up the roof. A foul reek washed over him from Twoleg debris scattered here and there, and beneath it he picked up the stale scent of monsters.

“Storm! Storm!” he yowled.

There was no reply. Gray Wing padded forward, glancing from side to side; there was nowhere here where Storm could be hiding.

A few tail-lengths away, a stone slope led upward. Gray Wing bounded to the top, then emerged more cautiously onto the next level. He saw the same thing: dark desolation, more rubbish, more stone trees, and no sign of Storm. A damp, chilly draft ruffled his fur, and he could hear the distant drip of water.

Up and up Gray Wing climbed, until he guessed he was almost at the top of the den. Still he couldn’t find Storm, and she didn’t reply when he called out to her.
Was Bumble wrong? Maybe Storm doesn’t live here.

Hesitantly approaching one of the gaps in the wall, Gray Wing saw how far he had climbed. He almost felt as if he was back in the mountains, looking out from a high peak. The Twolegplace was spread out below him, monsters creeping along like shiny beetles. Beyond the Twolegplace was the mass of the forest, mostly gray-brown now that the leaves had fallen, with patches of dark green here and there where pines grew. Beyond the forest Gray Wing could just make out the swelling line of the moor, and he longed for the clean air and the vast stretches of grass where he could run and run.

A faint paw step behind him made Gray Wing spin around. “Storm!” he exclaimed.

The silver tabby she-cat stood a couple of tail-lengths away from him. Gray Wing’s heart swelled as he looked at her. She had clearly given birth; she was thin, her sides sunken and her fur filthy and matted. But her green eyes were still as brilliant and beautiful as ever.

“Storm,” Gray Wing repeated, taking a pace toward her. “You’ve had your kits—are they okay?”

Storm nodded. “Three of them . . . and yes, they’re fine.”

“Where are they?” Gray Wing asked, glancing around. “May I see them?”

The silver-gray tabby hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “Better not.”

Disappointment gathered over Gray Wing like a dark cloud. “But they’re my family too. Please, Storm. You know I would never hurt them.”

Storm shook her head again, more decisively this time. “These are
my
kits,” she meowed.

Frustrated, Gray Wing wondered what he could do to change her mind. Clearly she had decided to cut him and Clear Sky—and all that she had experienced with them—out of her life.

But is that the best choice? Why doesn’t she want help from any cat to look after them?

Gray Wing wanted to ask those questions, but in the face of Storm’s proud, challenging gaze, the words wouldn’t come. Dipping his head in acceptance, he murmured, “Good-bye, Storm. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Then he turned away and padded down, down through the bleak levels of the monster den, until he was out in the open, where Bumble was waiting.

With every paw step he took
away from the Twolegplace, Gray Wing became more and more convinced that he was doing the wrong thing. That night, he slept only fitfully. His cozy nest in the new camp seemed full of thorns and pebbles. And when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Storm, so thin and desperate, and yet full of courage.

As dawn light began to trickle over the moor, Gray Wing came to a decision.
I won’t give up on Storm. She and her kits are part of my family now
.
Family should look after one another.

On his way across the moor, Gray Wing kept a lookout for prey, and pounced on a rabbit as it popped its head out of its hole.
I’ll carry it to Storm’s empty den, to help her feed her kits
.

Gray Wing saw no sign of Clear Sky or his cats as he padded through the forest, but as he approached the Twolegplace he spotted Turtle Tail racing away from the red stone dens. Her ears were flattened and her fur fluffed up in panic.

Gray Wing bounded across her path to intercept her. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Turtle Tail’s eyes were stretched wide as she fixed a wild gaze on Gray Wing. “You’ve got to come!” she panted. “Storm’s den is under attack!”

Without waiting for a reply, she spun around and raced back toward the Twolegplace. Gray Wing dropped his prey and took off after her. An image of the desolate den came into his mind and he wondered what could possibly attack something so huge.

Turtle Tail must be wrong! But if Storm is in danger, I have to help!

Before the den came into sight, Gray Wing could hear a low rumbling sound, which grew and grew until it filled the whole world, as if thunder was breaking right overhead. The air was thick with the scent of stone and dust and the reek of monsters.

Gray Wing’s whole body shuddered with apprehension.
Something terrible is happening!

As he skidded around a corner, shoulder to shoulder with Turtle Tail, Gray Wing got his first sight of the den. He halted as sharply as if he had slammed into a wall. The huge den was half hidden in a cloud of dust. Behind the billowing screen Gray Wing spotted a vast monster. Its paws were bigger than he had ever seen before; its sides were a glaring yellow, and it had shiny silver jaws that were steadily chomping into the red stone walls of the den.

“Storm! Storm!” he yowled, but the roaring of the monster was so loud that his voice was drowned.

He turned to Turtle Tail. “I’m going in.”

“You can’t!” His friend’s eyes were wide with terror. “The monster will eat you too!”

Ignoring her, Gray Wing took a pace forward, but at that moment, with an even louder thunderclap, one side of the den collapsed in on itself. Broken stone flowed onto the path like water. More dust billowed out, choking Gray Wing and making his eyes sting.

For a moment Gray Wing felt that he had been turned to stone, his paws frozen to the ground.
Surely Storm would have heard the noise of the monster before now? She must have brought her kits to safety!

But as the dust began to clear, Gray Wing spotted Storm’s panicked face staring out of a gap in the wall of the den, high up near the top. Her jaws gaped wide in a silent plea for help.

“I’m coming, Storm!” Gray Wing yowled.

For a moment his gaze met Storm’s. Then the yellow monster took another bite out of the wall. The whole den tilted sideways, beginning to collapse, and the silver she-cat vanished from sight.

Gray Wing and Turtle Tail crouched close to the ground as the stone crashed down. The roaring was so loud that pain clawed at Gray Wing’s ears. Surging clouds of dust blotted out the den and the monster.

Gradually the sound died away. Gray Wing looked up, realizing the monster had stopped its terrible feeding. Staggering to his paws, he raced forward into the debris. Through the dreadful dust and rumble of settling stones, he heard a feeble cry.

“Storm!” he called. “I’m coming!”

Frantically he dug into the rubble. Scraping away shards of stone, he touched silver fur, and cleared away the debris with desperate paws until Storm’s body lay exposed. Her legs were stretched out stiffly and her eyes were closed. Dust clotted in her fur. Beside her, half buried in the wreckage, were the three limp bodies of the kits she had tried to protect.

Oh, Storm . . .

Gray Wing bent his head to lick her fur, and at that moment Storm’s green eyes flickered open. She blinked, focusing on Gray Wing, then raised her head a little to see the three bodies of her kits.

“My kits . . .” she whispered brokenly. “I just wanted to keep them safe!”

“You did all you could.” Gray Wing comforted her.

“Tell Clear Sky . . . I’m sorry . . .” Storm’s faint whisper died away. Her head flopped back and her eyes closed.

Gray Wing rested a paw on her chest and bent his head toward her muzzle, but she wasn’t breathing.
Good-bye, Storm
. . . he thought, numb with grief. Feeling his heart breaking, he collected loose stones to pile gently on her body.

A tiny movement in the dust alerted him. He turned his head in disbelief to see that one of the kits—a sturdy ginger tom—was stirring a little.

He’s not dead!

A renewed rumbling told Gray Wing that the remaining walls of the den were shaking around him. He dug away the rubble that partly covered the kit’s body and grabbed him by the scruff. As the walls collapsed, he dragged him clear, stumbling out onto the path in a chaos of rolling dust and flying splinters of stone.

“This way!” Darting forward, Turtle Tail shoved Gray Wing around the corner and out of the worst of the dust. “Where’s Storm?” she asked.

Gray Wing set the kit down gently. “Dead,” he choked out. “And the other two kits. But this one’s alive . . . just.”

Crouching side by side, Gray Wing and Turtle Tail licked vigorously at the little ginger tom until he began to squirm feebly and let out a tiny wail.

“He’s going to live,” Turtle Tail meowed. “Come on, I’ll help you carry him back to the forest.”

Ignoring Gray Wing’s protests that he could manage, Turtle Tail lifted the kit gently by his scruff and set off down the path, Gray Wing limping alongside her. They didn’t stop until they left the Twolegplace behind and reached the outlying trees.

“Let’s catch our breath,” Turtle Tail suggested, puffing out a sigh as she set the kit down.

Gray Wing sank to the ground. His pelt was matted and filthy, and his pads stung from walking over the splintered stone. He couldn’t forget the look in Storm’s eyes as she gazed at him with the den falling around her.

If only I’d gotten there sooner, I might have saved her!

“I know you’re blaming yourself,” Turtle Tail murmured, her sympathetic gaze resting on him. “It wasn’t your fault.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re thinking of Bright Stream, aren’t you? But this time is different: there’s a survivor. Clear Sky has a son.” She bent her head to lick the tiny kit’s ear. “You must take him to his father.”

Instinctively Gray Wing reached out a paw to scoop the kit toward himself. He didn’t want to lose this last connection to Storm. “I loved Storm too,” he whispered.

“I know.” Turtle Tail’s voice was gentle. “But this kit is not your son.”

Gray Wing let out a sigh; in the midst of his grief, he knew that Turtle Tail was right. “I don’t even know what to call him!” he mewed.

Turtle Tail bent her face close to the kit’s and brushed her muzzle against his. “What’s your name, little one?” she asked.

The kit looked up at her, bewildered. “I don’t know,” he squeaked.

“Maybe Storm hadn’t decided on names yet,” Gray Wing meowed.

Turtle Tail glanced back at the Twolegplace, as if she was picturing the collapsed den. “What about Thunder?” she suggested. “He was born of Storm, in the
midst
of a storm of stones and dust, yet he has survived.”

The ginger kit let out a high-pitched mew.

“I think he agrees!” Turtle Tail exclaimed, her gaze warm.

Taking a deep breath, Gray Wing rose to his paws. “Come on, little Thunder,” he meowed. “It’s time to meet your father.”

Turtle Tail bade Gray Wing farewell and headed back into the Twolegplace. Picking up Thunder by his scruff, Gray Wing plunged deeper into the woods, staggering from exhaustion as he found the track that would lead him to Clear Sky’s camp.

Before he reached it, there was a rustle in the undergrowth and three cats stepped in front of him: Frost, Petal, and a black-and-white tom Gray Wing didn’t recognize.

“You’re not welcome here,” Frost growled, his neck fur bristling.

Petal fixed him with a hostile gaze. “You killed Fox.”

“It was an accident,” Gray Wing replied, speaking with difficulty around the kit he was carrying. He remembered that Petal was Fox’s sister, and couldn’t blame her for her anger. “Clear Sky knows that.”

“And who is this kit?” The black-and-white tom pushed up close to Thunder, who whimpered and tried to shrink away from him.

“I’ll tell Clear Sky, not you.”

For a heartbeat the three cats glared at Gray Wing.
I can’t fight all of them
, he thought despairingly.
And I’m so tired of all this hostility
. “Just take me to my brother,” he asked.

At first the three cats didn’t move. Then Petal stepped back, beckoning him with her tail. “Okay,” she mewed. “But don’t even think about putting a paw wrong, or you’ll wish you’d never been kitted.”

The black-and-white tom stayed on guard, while Frost and Petal escorted Gray Wing along the track, one on each side.

It’s like they think we’re spies, or we’re their prisoners
.

Clear Sky leaped down from a tree as Gray Wing and the others entered the camp. He bounded across the clearing and faced Gray Wing. “What do you want?” he demanded.

Gray Wing glanced at the other cats, and Clear Sky waved them back with his tail. When they had retreated to the edge of the clearing, Gray Wing set Thunder down at Clear Sky’s paws. “This kit is your son.”

Thunder dipped his head and blinked shyly up at his father.

Clear Sky’s shocked blue gaze was fixed on Gray Wing. “Where’s Storm?” he asked hoarsely.

Gray Wing bowed his head. “Storm is dead.” While Clear Sky stared at him, stunned, he told of how Turtle Tail had warned him, and how they had reached the collapsing den in time to witness the death of Storm and the other kits. “She spoke to me before she died,” he finished. “She asked me to tell you she was sorry.”

Clear Sky shook his head, bewildered, his blue eyes filled with pain. “I can’t believe this . . .” he breathed out. “Not Storm . . . not such a dreadful death.” He paced away for a few paw steps, then turned back toward Gray Wing and his son.

“Take him away,” he meowed. “There’s no place for him here.”

“What?” Gray Wing couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He’s your
son
!”

“I can’t raise him.” Clear Sky’s voice was bleak. “It’s my fault his mother died. If I’d stopped Storm from leaving, she would still be alive. What kind of life can I give her kit?”

Gray Wing began to understand. If Thunder stayed in the camp, he would be a constant reminder to Clear Sky of what he had lost.

“How can I raise a kit?” Clear Sky demanded. “I have too much to do here, protecting these cats.”

“You have cats who will help you!” Gray Wing retorted. “Thunder needs you.”

Clear Sky shook his head decisively. “No. What he needs is a father who can take care of him—who doesn’t bring bad luck to every cat he cares about.” His voice was hard, filled with anger and self-loathing.

Gray Wing knew there was no point in trying to persuade him. Shocked to the depths of his fur, he meowed: “This truly is the end of our brotherhood. I can’t recognize you anymore as the beloved littermate I grew up with and traveled here with.”

Sadly Clear Sky nodded. “If you can’t accept me as leader of these cats, or understand what I’m trying to do for the good of every one of them, then there’s no relationship left between us.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Gray Wing and Thunder alone except for the watchful guards. They moved forward, flanking Gray Wing to escort him out of the territory.

Gray Wing’s patience snapped. “We can see ourselves out, furballs!” He curled his tail around Thunder to guide him, letting him walk on tottery legs out of the clearing and down the track that would lead to the moor.

“What happened?” Thunder asked, sounding utterly confused. “Was that . . . my father?”

“Yes.”
And I wish he wasn’t
.

“Are you sure?” Thunder persisted. “Why didn’t he like me?”

Gray Wing heaved a deep sigh. “It’s complicated. But it’s not your fault.”

By the time they reached the camp on the moor, Thunder was exhausted and Gray Wing had to carry him again. The other cats rose to their paws as Gray Wing pushed his way through the gorse bushes that lined the rim of the hollow and padded down the slope.

Tall Shadow came to meet him. “Who’s this?” she asked, flicking her tail at Thunder. “Where did he come from?”