Warriors: Dawn of the Clans #2: Thunder Rising (25 page)

“I know.” Tall Shadow’s voice was calm. “All I’m saying is, we need time to think.”

“And suppose Clear Sky won’t give us time?” Wind Runner challenged her.

Gray Wing realized he would have to intervene. He was relieved that Tall Shadow was recovering some of her old leadership skills, and she deserved his support.

“Tall Shadow is right,” he meowed. “We’ll wait, and starting tomorrow we will send out extra patrols toward the forest, so that we can keep an eye on Clear Sky.” He locked glances with Wind Runner, half expecting her to argue, but after a moment’s pause she gave him a reluctant nod.

Gray Wing was glad to see that the other cats were calming down too. He leaped from the rock and padded over to Tall Shadow. “Thank you for that,” he mewed. “You said exactly the right thing.”

Tall Shadow dipped her head. “Should we talk about this?” she suggested.

With a murmur of agreement Gray Wing led the way to the shelter of a gorse bush. The sun had set over the moor, but the sky was still streaked with scarlet. Some cats had obviously been out hunting while Gray Wing’s patrol had been away, and a pile of prey lay at the bottom of the hollow. Most of the others gathered around to start eating, while Wind Runner leaped up onto the rock to keep watch, and Turtle Tail headed to her den to see her kits.

“Tall Shadow, what do you think we should do now?” Gray Wing asked.

The black she-cat thought for a moment. Gray Wing noticed that she was looking more energized, more like the leader she had once been.
She doesn’t have to worry about Moon Shadow any longer, and she knows as well as any cat that we have to deal with Clear Sky
.

“Do you want to take over as leader again?” he asked.

Tall Shadow shook her head. “I’m happy to share responsibility with you, Gray Wing,” she replied. Her mouth twisting wryly, she added, “I don’t even mind much that Wind Runner has started organizing us all. She’s a valuable cat, and once all this is over I think we should welcome her and Gorse Fur formally into our group.”

“Good idea,” Gray Wing meowed, pleased that Tall Shadow was losing some of her caution around other cats.
Working together is the best way forward
. “We need every cat on our side.”

“As to what we do now,” Tall Shadow went on, “some cat has to stop Clear Sky, before more damage is done.”

Gray Wing nodded. “You’re right, but it won’t be easy.”

Tall Shadow gave one forepaw a thoughtful lick and drew it over her ear. “Let me think about it,” she meowed.

Fighting off a sense of foreboding, Gray Wing padded down to the prey, chose part of a hare, and carried it up to Turtle Tail’s den to share with her and the kits.

Turtle Tail was sitting at the entrance to the tunnel, her paws tucked neatly underneath her. The kits were sleeping behind her in a heap of fur.

“Are they okay?” Gray Wing asked as he set the prey down in front of her.

Turtle Tail sighed. “I think they are now. But they were upset when I had to tell them that Bumble is dead. Pebble Heart in particular took a long time to drift off.”

Gray Wing glanced at his mate, faintly surprised at the note of accusation in her voice.

“I didn’t make any of this happen,” he mewed. “We could never have accepted Bumble into our group. She wouldn’t have been able to cope.”

Turtle Tail’s shoulders sagged. “I know,” she murmured, her voice so full of grief that she could hardly get the words out. “I believe in you, Gray Wing. I know this isn’t your fault. It just broke my heart to see her lying there, bleeding. I wish things could have been different.”

Gray Wing pressed himself close to her side and covered her ears with comforting licks. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Turtle Tail,” he murmured. “You and the kits are the most important things in my life. I never dared hope for such happiness . . . ,” he mewed. “After the fire, I wondered if I could carry on as leader, but you made me rest, and now I’m ready to lead again—with Tall Shadow, if that’s what she wants.”

“But how will you lead?” Turtle Tail asked, looking up and gazing into his eyes. “Innocent cats are being slaughtered—and for what? So Clear Sky and his cats can have enough to eat?”

“No,” Gray Wing replied. “I’m not sure that Clear Sky killed Bumble. I think it was the fox, and besides, I don’t believe this is about hunting anymore. Clear Sky already has more territory than any cat could possibly want. I think he has some kind of plan. I have no idea what it is, but in part of his mind, Clear Sky honestly thinks he’s doing this for a good reason.” He let out a long sigh. “Some cat has to get to the bottom of it all somehow.”

“And that cat has to be you?” Turtle Tail asked.

Gray Wing blinked at her. “What other cat is there?”

C
HAPTER
27

Thunder ducked underneath a low-growing elder
branch and headed into the clearing, a mouse dangling from his jaws.

Skirting the pool in the middle of the camp, he padded to Petal, who had made a new nest for herself and Misty’s kits underneath an arching clump of ferns. The kits had survived for the three days since their mother’s death, and Thunder was hopeful that they would grow up into healthy cats.

“There you go,” he mewed, dropping the mouse in front of Petal.

“Thanks, Thunder,” Petal responded, dipping her head gratefully. “My belly’s so empty, they can probably hear it rumbling on the moors.”

Thunder saw that she had chewed up some squirrel into a mush, and was encouraging the kits to lap it up. The little she-cat turned her head away and pressed herself against Petal’s belly, rooting for milk.

“No, little one,” Petal murmured gently, guiding the kit back to the squirrel mush with one paw. “This is what you need to eat now that you’re getting bigger.”

“Big kit now,” the tiny she-cat agreed, sniffing at the squirrel mush and then starting to suck it down.

Thunder was amazed to see the kind and loving look in Petal’s eyes as she gazed down at the kits.
Petal—the toughest she-cat you could wish to meet!
“Have you given them names yet?” he asked.

“Yes,” Petal replied. “The little tom is Birch and the she-cat is Alder.”

“Those are good names,” Thunder mewed.

Most of Clear Sky’s other cats were lazing in the clearing, enjoying the after-sunhigh warmth. Quick Water was curled up drowsing in a patch of sunlight, while Falling Feather was giving her white pelt a thorough wash. Frost was licking the wound that he had gotten in the fire; it still refused to heal.

Everything’s peaceful now
, Thunder told himself.
Maybe Clear Sky will be satisfied with this new territory
.

But he couldn’t convince himself that was true. Clear Sky was the only restless cat in the camp, pacing backward and forward and occasionally stopping to stare into the trees, though Thunder had no idea what he was staring at.
He’s been weird ever since he got back yesterday . . . reeking of blood and fox. Something happened that he’s not telling any cat
.

Thunder headed for his nest, but before he reached it he was intercepted by Fircone and Nettle, two young rogues who had joined Clear Sky’s group a half-moon before.

“Did you want something?” Thunder asked.

“There’s something we have to say . . . ,” Fircone began, in a low voice and with a furtive glance at Clear Sky to make sure the leader wasn’t within earshot. “Can we find somewhere that’s a bit more private?”

“Private?” Uneasiness stabbed at Thunder like a thorn. “Why does it have to be private?”

“Just come over here and we’ll tell you,” Nettle mewed nervously, beckoning Thunder to a sheltered spot beneath the roots of a fallen tree.

Thunder hesitated, then followed the two toms.
If something’s going on, it’s best if I know what it is
.

“It’s like this,” Fircone went on when all three cats were settled among the roots. “When we came to join your group, we weren’t really sure what we were getting into. And we’re not sure we like it.”

Thunder wondered what they expected him to do. “You don’t
have
to stay,” he pointed out.

“Mostly it’s good here,” Nettle mewed. “We like having the support of a group. But some of this stuff . . . chasing cats off—”

“Killing cats,” Fircone added. “We thought—”

He broke off as Leaf padded past, heading for his nest with a bundle of fresh ferns in his jaws. He halted, giving the three cats a curious glance.

“Clear off, we’re not talking to you,” Nettle snarled.

Leaf let the ferns drop. “Are you looking for a clawed ear?” he demanded, beginning to bristle.

“Sorry, Leaf,” Thunder meowed hastily. “They’re okay, they just don’t know how to behave in a group yet.”

“They won’t get the chance to learn if they don’t shape up,” Leaf snapped, picking up his bedding and padding off with a final glare at Nettle.

“That really wasn’t a good idea, antagonizing the older cats,” Thunder muttered. “Anyway, what do you expect me to do about the way Clear Sky runs his group? I don’t enjoy the way things are, any more than you do.”

“We wondered if you would have a talk with your father,” Nettle suggested. “If he realized that his cats aren’t happy . . .”

“We’re worried about where all this is leading,” Fircone added. “Soon, Clear Sky won’t listen to what anyone has to say, and we won’t have any choice about what he asks us to do.”

“And he might ask us to do
anything
,” Nettle finished.

Thunder couldn’t help thinking that the young cats were optimistic if they thought that a talk from him would turn Clear Sky aside from anything he wanted.

“I suppose you have a point,” he sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Thunder could feel his belly shaking with apprehension as he realized what he was getting into.
I might be the one with a clawed ear—or worse!
Reluctantly he snagged a piece of rabbit from the prey the hunting patrols had brought in, and carried it over to Clear Sky.

“What can I do for you?” Clear Sky asked, not looking at him.

“I wanted you to have this.” Thunder set down the rabbit at his father’s paws. “You haven’t eaten today.”

“I’ll eat when I’m ready. I’m not hungry now.” Clear Sky turned an intense blue gaze on Thunder. “I saw you talking to those young rogues. Why have they sent you over here?”

Thunder hesitated, clearing his throat.
So much for being private
 . . . He realized that other cats were looking interested, too, beginning to edge closer to hear the conversation. Frost in particular was watching with ears pricked, and Falling Feather had halted her grooming with one paw in the air.

“Nothing really . . . ,” Thunder began, trying not to cringe under his father’s scrutiny. “We were just saying how green the forest was looking. When I was out hunting just now I saw that green shoots are springing up in the places the fire damaged. Soon no cat will know that there was a fire here. And have you seen the number of bugs and small prey that are returning? There isn’t any reason for a cat to go hungry at all. No reason to extend our territory any farther, don’t you think . . . ?”

His voice trailed off as Clear Sky narrowed his eyes, then glanced around at the other cats. Frost stiffened as that blue gaze flicked over him. Thunder realized that most of them were listening, thoroughly awake now; Nettle and Fircone had hopeful expressions on their faces.

“Does Thunder speak for all of you?” Clear Sky asked. “Is this what you think too—that what we’re doing here is a waste of time?”

Silence fell as the other cats glanced at each other but didn’t reply.
Am I the only one brave enough to say all this?
Thunder thought in frustration. He didn’t know whether to think that the other cats had betrayed him, or to feel a thrill of exhilaration.

“Can’t we agree to look after what we have?” Thunder plunged on. “Can’t we forget about expanding our territory?”

Clear Sky took a pace forward to loom over Thunder. “It’s too late to stop what’s begun,” he meowed. Thunder thought that he could make out a flicker of regret in his father’s face. “Tell me, this forest fire . . . ,” Clear Sky went on. “If it meant so little, why are there places where the land is still scarred? I’ve seen patches of earth where no grass has returned, and pools still choked with ash. No cat could drink that water.”

“But they won’t always be like that,” Thunder protested. “There’s fresh growth too—we’ve all seen it.” Looking at his father’s implacable expression, he began to wonder if he should have started this conversation. But it was too late now, and he realized he meant every single word.
I’m not just saying this because some other cats asked me to
. Thunder had felt the same himself for a long time, and it hadn’t helped when his father had returned broody and mysterious after his solitary walk.
Whatever’s started, it has to stop. For the camp, for Clear Sky—and for myself. I didn’t leave Gray Wing to live in fear. I’m sure this can’t be what my father truly wants
. “I’m only trying to help,” he continued. “I just thought—”

Clear Sky silenced him with a wave of his tail. “Frost, come here,” he mewed.

The big white tom looked up from where he was still licking his wound, then rose to his paws and limped painfully to Clear Sky’s side. Thunder thought that he was moving more slowly than the last time they had been on patrol together.

“Show every cat your injury,” Clear Sky ordered.

Frost’s eyes widened in surprise. Clearly reluctant, he turned so that he was exposing his injured leg to the gaze of his denmates. The fur hadn’t grown back over the wound, and the exposed flesh was red around a weeping sore.

“This is an injury from the forest fire,” Clear Sky proclaimed in a loud voice. “An injury that has not healed.”

Frost lowered his head in shame.

“It’s not Frost’s fault that he was burned in the fire,” Thunder meowed.

“No.” Clear Sky spun around to glare at him. “But see how the forest fire really damaged us? Now one of our group puts us all in danger. Frost can’t carry out his patrols properly.”

Thunder had never liked the way Frost behaved, but he couldn’t bear to see the white tom humiliated like this.

“Frost
has
been hunting and patrolling,” he protested, his pelt prickling with apprehension as he contradicted his leader. “He still contributes to our group. And his wound just needs care to get better. Isn’t that right?” He looked around at the other cats, waiting for one of them to come out in support of Frost, but they all stared hard at the ground or busied themselves with grooming.
Cowards!
Thunder thought.

As he was looking around, Thunder felt a sudden shove in his back. It was Clear Sky, forcing him down to the ground so that his nose was less than a mouse-length from the wound on Frost’s leg. The scent of rotting flesh flooded over him, and bile rose in his throat. Some of the cats mewed with anxiety, but still they did nothing.

“If you care so much, why don’t you lick his wound clean?” Clear Sky asked.

I won’t be treated like this!

Wriggling free, Thunder turned to face his father. “What has happened to you?” he demanded. “Why don’t you care about Frost anymore? You always say that you’re acting in the best interests of
all
of us.”

“That’s right.” To Thunder’s surprise, Quick Water rose to her paws and faced Clear Sky. Finally one of the other cats was standing up to have their voice heard! Quick Water had known Clear Sky all his life.
If any cat can reason with my father, it’s her
. “What are you doing?” she asked in a quiet, certain voice. “You’re our leader, not our tormentor. Think of Quiet Rain—would she want to see this?”

“Leave my mother out of it,” Clear Sky snarled.

Quick Water ignored his interruption. “Is this why she wished you good luck when we left the mountains?” she asked.

Instead of exploding into anger, Clear Sky took a deep breath, letting his gaze travel over all his cats. “I owe you all an apology,” he mewed, stepping back. “Clearly you don’t understand what I’m trying to do. I should have explained it better.” Turning to Thunder and Frost, he continued, “Frost must leave us. It’s time for him to go, before he spreads disease among us. This is for the greater good.”

Frost’s jaws opened in a gasp of shock, as he gazed incredulously at Clear Sky.

“Thunder, I want you to escort him to the boundary and leave him . . .” Clear Sky seemed to hesitate, then plunged on. “Leave him where the maggots will find him. Do you understand?”

Thunder felt his neck fur beginning to bristle.
I want no part of this
. “No, I’m not sure I do understand,” he replied, letting a trace of anger creep into his tone. “Where the maggots will find him? Are you asking me to abandon Frost somewhere to die alone, with no cat to take care of him?”