A Forest Divided

by Erin Hunter

  Mews sounded along the heather tunnel.

  “Gorse Fur!”

  “Minnow!”

  Gray Wing glimpsed Dust Muzzle pushing alongside Gorse Fur.

  “Can I carry your vole?” the young tom begged.

  “What did you catch?” Moth Flight stopped in front of Gray Wing. The excitement in her gaze faded as she spotted the shrew. “No rabbits?”

  Gray Wing shook his head sadly and nudged her along the trail until they popped out into the sheltered clearing.

  Wind Runner was pacing the far end, her gaze flicking toward the thickening clouds.

  Reed stood near her, sniffing Slate’s injured ear. The fox bite had healed quickly in the days since the attack, but Reed was still careful to keep checking for any sign of sourness in the wound.

  Gray Wing dropped his shrew. “Is Slate okay?” he called to the silver tabby.

  “Her ear will be fully healed in another quarter moon,” Reed answered.

  Slate ducked away from him. “I wish the fox had torn out a lump of fur instead.” She shook out her pelt irritably. “At least fur grows back.”

  “Gray Wing, can I put your shrew on the prey pile?” Moth Flight’s mew snapped him from his thoughts.

  “Yes.” He glanced at the empty patch of grass. Dust Muzzle was already dragging Gorse Fur’s vole toward it. Minnow padded past him and dropped her scrawny lapwing. Moth Flight grabbed Gray Wing’s shrew and raced over to place it on top.

  Gray Wing was glad he could help the moor cats hunt. But he felt guilt pricking his belly. Surely his campmates in the pine forest needed help too?

  Gray Wing’s not as fast as he used to be. Jagged Peak’s words rang in his ears, and once more he remembered his argument with his brother and Tall Shadow.

  You’ve been giving orders since you came back to camp! Did Tall Shadow really believe that? Perhaps he should return to clear the air. And yet it still rankled that he’d been accused of being weak and of trying to take over as leader. Make up your minds! Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak seemed ready to criticize everything he did. Here on the moor, he was accepted as he was. Wind Runner was grateful for the prey that he caught. Slate seemed to enjoy his company, settling down beside him each night so they could talk before they slept and shared their warmth. And, away from the dampness of the forest, his breathing had eased. He felt as though the wind had reached deep into every part of him: he could run faster, breathe more deeply, and sleep more soundly.

  Pebble Heart would be worried about him, though. Now that Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes had moved to Clear Sky’s camp, the young tom must feel alone. And I miss him. Gray Wing’s chest tightened as he remembered Pebble Heart’s soft, solemn gaze.

  I should go home.

  Slate crossed the clearing toward him. Her thick gray fur rippled as she walked.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  “Was that all there was?” Slate nodded toward the prey pile.

  Gray Wing met her gaze apologetically. “We were lucky to find that. Snow’s coming, and most of the prey has taken to its nests.”

  Slate sighed. “Just when we need it most.”

  “I’ll go out again later,” Gray Wing offered.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “We could try the tunnels.” Gray Wing hadn’t ventured underground yet. He’d never shared Acorn Fur’s love of hunting in the dark. But they might unearth a rabbit’s nest.

  Slate’s eyes glittered with unease. “I’ve never hunted underground.”

  “We won’t go deep,” Gray Wing promised. His gaze snagged the scoop in her ear where the fox had ripped off the tip. A dark scab edged it.

  Slate dropped her gaze. “How bad is it?”

  “You look a bit like an owl,” Gray Wing teased.

  Slate lifted her muzzle sharply. “At least I can still hear.” She stared pointedly at Gray Wing’s ears. “It’s a wonder you hear anything at all. You have so much fluff in your ears, I’m surprised mice don’t make nests in them.”

  Gray Wing nudged her playfully and she began to purr.

  “Wind Runner!” Dust Muzzle’s anxious mew sounded across the clearing. “I can hear paw steps.”

  Reed tasted the air, his muzzle high. “A forest cat’s heading this way.”

  Fur bristled along Gorse Fur’s spine. Wind Runner padded cautiously toward the camp entrance.

  Minnow dropped into a defensive crouch. “Can you tell who it is?”

  Gray Wing opened his mouth and let the breeze bathe his tongue. He recognized the scent at once. “It’s Thunder.”

  Wind Runner pricked her ears. “What’s he doing on the moor?”

  Gorse Fur narrowed his eyes. “I thought I smelled his scent while we were out hunting.”

  Minnow nodded. “Me too. Near the four trees. And I smelled more than one cat.”

  Wind Runner blinked at the gray-and-white she-cat. “Rogues?”

  Minnow shrugged. “They smelled strange.”

  The heather shivered as paw steps headed along the tunnel. Thunder poked his head into the camp. “May I come in?” He glanced at Wind Runner.

  Wind Runner dipped her head. “You are welcome.”

  Thunder slid out from the heather, his orange-and-white pelt bright against gray leaf-bare branches. “Gray Wing! You’re here!” His eyes lit up. “I’ve been tracking your scent.”

  Gray Wing tipped his head. “Why?” Surely his own campmates should have been hunting for him, rather than Thunder.

  “Tall Shadow sent me.”

  Gray Wing shifted his paws, feeling suddenly guilty. “Is she okay?”

  Worry sparked in Thunder’s gaze. A chill ran down Gray Wing’s spine. Slash! Had he attacked the camp? He’d assumed that Fern’s plan to distract the vicious rogue had worked.

  “She’s fine.” Thunder’s tail twitched. “Everyone’s fine.”

  “Then why did Tall Shadow send you?” Gray Wing frowned, puzzled.

  “I found some strangers in the forest,” Thunder explained hesitantly. “They were looking for Tall Shadow, so I took them to her camp.”

  Gray Wing leaned forward, curiosity pricking his pelt. Why did Thunder seem so wary? “Strangers?”

  “They want to see you.”

  Slate shifted beside Gray Wing, her pelt bristling. “Who are these strangers?”

  Wind Runner tipped her head. “Where are they from?”

  Thunder stared at Gray Wing. “They’re from the mountains.”

  “The mountains?” Gray Wing’s thoughts whirled. Had the Tribe followed the Sun Trail? He remembered his dream of the empty cave behind the waterfall. But they wanted to stay among the peaks. Had something terrible happened to drive them from their home?

  Thunder lowered his voice. “It’s Quiet Rain.”

  My mother! Gray Wing’s heart quickened. The journey from the mountains had been difficult for the young and healthy cat he used to be—Quiet Rain would surely have found it even more trying. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s weak and hungry, and carries a wound, but Pebble Heart is taking care of her,” Thunder told him. “She came with a cat named Sun Shadow.”

  “Moon Shadow’s son . . .” Anxiety fluttered in Gray Wing’s belly. What was she doing here? “I must go to her,” he meowed, heading for the heather tunnel.

  “Wait!” Slate called. “Who’s Quiet Rain?”

  Gray Wing glanced back at her. “She’s my mother!” Why hadn’t he been in the forest to greet her? He shouldn’t be here on the moor. He had duties and responsibilities at home. As he shouldered his way through the heather tunnel and burst out onto the grass beyond, he felt his breathing shorten. His heart pounded in his ears.

  “Wait for me!” Paws thrummed behind him as he raced across the moor.

  Thunder caught up with him, panting. “Slow down!” he puffed. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  “I should have been there.” Gray Wing struggled to speak, fighting for breath.

  Thunder swerved across his path. “The
re’s no use getting there so out of breath that you can’t even speak to her.”

  Gray Wing halted. “You’re right.” His chest wheezed as he spoke.

  “Let’s walk.” Thunder fell in beside him.

  Tiny flakes of snow spiraled from the sky as dusk fell. There would be snowfall by morning.

  Padding slowly, Gray Wing let his fur smooth, relaxing until his breath began to ease. “Is Quiet Rain’s wound dangerous?”

  “I don’t know,” Thunder answered. “Pebble Heart says it will take a while to heal.”

  “Is Clear Sky with her now?” If Thunder had found Quiet Rain and Sun Shadow in the forest, he must have taken them back to Clear Sky’s camp first.

  Thunder kept his gaze fixed ahead. “No.”

  “He didn’t travel to Tall Shadow’s camp with her?”

  “He doesn’t know she’s here.”

  Gray Wing frowned, puzzled. “But you know?”

  “I took them straight to Tall Shadow.”

  Gray Wing could hear stiffness in Thunder’s voice. Something was wrong. “Why not take them to Clear Sky?”

  “We argued,” Thunder mewed softly. “I left Clear Sky’s camp days ago. I’ve set up my own.”

  Gray Wing’s heart sank. Would Clear Sky and Thunder ever reconcile? Before he could ask, Thunder changed the subject.

  “Tall Shadow says that Sun Shadow looks exactly like his father.” He lowered his voice. “I told him Moon Shadow had died.”

  Gray Wing glanced at him. “That must have been hard, for you and him.”

  “He was looking forward to knowing his father.” Was that bitterness in Thunder’s mew? “They know about Bright Stream too, but Tall Shadow didn’t want to tell them anything more. Not until your mother is stronger.”

  Gray Wing glanced across the moor toward the four trees hollow, where the graves of so many of their friends lay. What would Quiet Rain say when she found out? He slowed, suddenly realizing how much news there was to share with her and how little of it was good.

  What will she say when she finds out how we’ve fought among ourselves? As worry wormed beneath his pelt, his forepaw scuffed a hard vine in the grass. Pain shot through his leg as the vine tightened around it. Instinctively he tried to tug himself free, but the vine gripped harder, digging into his flesh.

  Thunder leaped back, fur on end. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s caught me!” Panic flashed through Gray Wing, spiraling as he tried to pull his paw free. Pain scorched up his leg as the vine snared it harder.

  “Hold still!” Thunder darted forward, examining his paw. “It looks like a vine from a Twoleg fence.”

  Gray Wing could smell blood and looked down to see the fur darken around his paw.

  Thunder sniffed along the thin tendril. “It’s tied to a stick.”

  Gray Wing fought against the blinding pain as Thunder gripped the stick between his jaws and tried to haul it from the ground.

  He groaned with effort, then fell away, growling. “It’s stuck fast. I can’t move it.”

  Gray Wing saw him glance warily across the moor. He guessed what Thunder was thinking. “Foxes will smell my blood.” And come looking for an easy meal. Fear hollowed his belly. I’m trapped like prey!

  “Stay calm.” Thunder paced around him. “We’ll find a way to get you out.”

  “How?” Gray Wing tugged his paw again, gasping as the vine cut deeper.

  “I know.” A mew sounded from the heather behind them.

  Gray Wing jerked his muzzle around and saw Fern padding across the grass toward them.

  Thunder showed his teeth. “Who are you?”

  Fern paused and tipped her head. “Gray Wing knows me.”

  “She’s Fern,” Gray Wing rasped.

  Fern circled them, leaving a wide berth between her and Thunder.

  Thunder’s gaze was suspicious, his orange pelt bristling. “You know how to free Gray Wing?” he growled. “How? Did you set this trap?”

  Fern purred with amusement. “Don’t be dumb! It’s a Twoleg trap for rabbits. If I knew how to set it, I’d never go hungry again.” She rolled her eyes at Gray Wing. “I can’t believe you were mouse-brained enough to walk into it.”

  Gray Wing gritted his teeth. “Just get me out!”

  “You have to stop struggling,” Fern told him. She gave a warning look to Thunder, then ducked down beside Gray Wing’s paw. “Hold still.”

  Gray Wing forced himself to keep still, breathing fast against the pain.

  “This might hurt a little,” Fern warned. “I have to get my teeth around the vine to loosen it.”

  Gray Wing nodded and braced himself.

  He shuddered as he felt her small teeth slide between the vine and the wound in his leg. She wriggled her head, and he gasped as pain flared through him like lightning. Suddenly, the vine loosened. Fern jerked her head away and Gray Wing slid his paw easily from the trap.

  Relief swamped him as the worst of the pain receded. But the wound stung like fury, and he felt blood seeping into his fur. He put weight on his paw, relieved to find it solid beneath him. “Nothing broken.” It was only a flesh wound. It would heal.

  Thunder stared at the scarred she-cat. “Who are you?”

  Fern caught Gray Wing’s eye.

  “She’s just a rogue.” He shrugged.

  Fern’s eyes flashed. “‘Just a rogue’?” she snorted. “I’m the rogue who lied to a murdering tom just to save your friends.”

  Gray Wing’s ears pricked. “You spoke to Slash?” he asked eagerly.

  “I promised I would, didn’t I?” Fern lifted her chin. “I told him about the prey and he went to look for it, just like I said he would. He’s such a greedy fox!”

  Thunder’s eyes were wide. “Who’s Slash?”

  “He’s another rogue,” Gray Wing told him. “He sent Fern to spy on us.”

  Thunder narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re a spy?”

  “Leave her alone,” Gray Wing told him sharply. “Slash is as cruel as One Eye. It took a lot of courage to lie to him.”

  Fern puffed out her chest. She looked like a scrawny pigeon. Gray Wing realized that she was skinnier than ever.

  “Have you been hunting in the hollow?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She shrugged wearily. “But there wasn’t much prey.”

  “Come back to my camp,” Gray Wing meowed. “When Slash finds out you sent him looking for prey that isn’t there, he won’t be pleased. You’ll be safer with us, and you can share our prey.”

  Thunder eyed him. “Tall Shadow might have something to say about that.”

  “Not when I explain what Fern has done for us.” Gray Wing began to pad toward the pines. They loomed against the darkening sky, and snow was falling thicker. Pain shot through him with each paw step, but he ignored it.

  His mother was waiting for him.

  Fern trotted after him. “Can I really come with you?” She sounded like a nervous kit.

  “Yes.”

  Thunder fell in beside her. “Why did Slash want you to spy on Gray Wing’s camp?”

  Fern shrugged. “He doesn’t like to share his land with other cats.”

  “This isn’t his land,” Thunder growled. “If it was, we’d have seen him before. Where does he come from?”

  “We used to live as strays in the Twolegplace. But Slash got bored of eating Twoleg waste and decided there would be richer pickings out here.” Fern gazed across the fast-whitening moor. “Slash doesn’t like to admit when he’s wrong.”

  “Why do you stay with him?” Thunder’s gaze flicked over her knotted fur and scars.

  Fern stared ahead. “I have no one else.”

  “Not even kin? Surely—”

  Gray Wing cut in. “Leave her alone, Thunder.”

  Thunder shrugged. “Okay.” He nodded toward Gray Wing’s paw. “How does it feel?”

  “It hurts,” Gray Wing told him. Pain throbbed where the vine had sliced through his flesh. “But Pebb
le Heart will know which herbs will soothe it.”

  They headed down the slope toward the Thunderpath. Monster tracks sliced through the slush covering the smooth black stone. Gray Wing pricked his ears, listening for monster growls. He heard nothing through the muffling snow, and there was no sign of eyes flashing in the distance.

  “Come on.” He limped across the Thunderpath, relieved to smell pinesap as he reached the other side.

  Fern’s black pelt was dotted with flakes. Snow speckled Thunder’s whiskers. A fresh flurry whirled around them, and Gray Wing ducked between the straight, dark trunks into the shelter of the forest.

  Thunder led the way to the bramble camp. Fern stayed close to Gray Wing, pressing closer as they neared.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she whispered as the ring of brambles loomed ahead of them.

  Familiar scents filled the air. “You’ll be fine,” Gray Wing promised her. Skirting the camp wall, he followed Thunder through the entrance. He scanned the wide clearing. “Quiet Rain?” His heart swelled with excitement.

  Mud Paws looked up from the prey pile, where Mouse Ear was sifting through the day’s catch. Tall Shadow and Jagged Peak sat in the shelter of the camp wall, their heads close as they shared words.

  Tall Shadow spotted Gray Wing. “You’re back!” Relief flooded her mew.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away so long.”

  As Gray Wing dipped his head, Dew Nose’s voice sounded from the large den at the far end of the clearing. “Holly, can we play in the snow?”

  “Tomorrow,” Holly’s voice answered. “It’s time to sleep now.”

  Gray Wing blinked, impressed at the den she’d built while he’d been away.

  Another den jutted from the side of the camp wall. Gray Wing opened his mouth and tasted the sharp tang of herbs billowing from it.

  “Gray Wing?” An old mew rasped from beside it. Lying on the ground, her speckled gray pelt camouflaged against the snow-flecked needles, was Quiet Rain.

  Gray Wing hurried toward her, wincing at the pain. Joy flared in his chest. He’d thought he’d never see her again—but here she was, in his new home! She struggled to get to her paws as he neared, but slumped back weakly. She was so thin now. Thick green pulp was smeared on the top of her hind leg. Her eyes shone as they met his, but he could see exhaustion in their blue depths. “Where’s Sun Shadow?” He glanced around for the young tom.