The First Battle

by Erin Hunter

  No.

  He pushed the thought away. He’s not my kit. I have no right to claim him. But Clear Sky had let him go twice. Was it possible to negotiate with any cat cruel enough to drive away his own son?

  Jagged Peak followed his gaze. “Are you glad he’s back?”

  Gray Wing nodded. “Of course.”

  “I guess Clear Sky doesn’t want any kin near him,” Jagged Peak murmured.

  Gray Wing’s belly tightened more.

  Small paws thrummed across the clearing. The kits were racing for the nest.

  “I’m sleeping closest to Gray Wing tonight!” Sparrow Fur leaped in first.

  Gray Wing felt a rush of joy. These kits weren’t his own any more than Thunder was, yet they treated him like their father.

  Owl Eyes stopped beside the rabbit haunch and sniffed it.

  “Hungry?” Purring, Jagged Peak nudged the gray kit’s cheek softly.

  “Yes!” Owl Eye tore away a tiny mouthful.

  Turtle Tail stopped beside the nest as Jagged Peak headed away. “Are you hungry, Pebble Heart?” She tipped her head to one side as Pebble Heart blinked solemnly up at her.

  “A bit.”

  She leaned past Owl Eyes and, hooking the juicy haunch toward her, tore it into pieces, giving a morsel to each of her kits.

  Sparrow Fur purred loudly as she chewed and snuggled closer to Gray Wing.

  Gray Wing wrapped his tail over her and tugged her back to make room for Turtle Tail.

  Turtle Tail hopped into the nest, her back to him, and sat stiffly, watching Owl Eyes and Pebble Heart eat.

  Gray Wing eyed her. “Please don’t be angry,” he whispered.

  “Angry?” Sparrow Fur glanced at her mother. “About what?”

  Turtle Tail leaned down and nuzzled Sparrow Fur’s ear. “It’s nothing to worry about.” Circling around in the heather, she settled beside Gray Wing. He relaxed as she rested into him, her fur warm against his flank. As Owl Eyes and Pebble Heart finished their meal, she beckoned them into the nest. “Come on, you two.”

  They scrambled in and pushed their way between Gray Wing and Turtle Tail.

  “Ow!” Sparrow Fur wriggled. “You stood on my tail.”

  “You should keep it tucked in!” Owl Eyes retorted.

  “Now, now,” Turtle Tail chided softly. “It’s time to go to sleep.”

  Gradually, the kits quieted down. Gray Wing watched through the darkness as the rest of the moor cats padded to their nests and settled around the clearing until they were as still as stone in the shadows.

  Turtle Tail’s eyes slowly closed as she drifted into sleep.

  Gray Wing felt suddenly weary. What was he going to say to Clear Sky? What if talking made things worse? Tiredness dragged at his paws and he closed his eyes. His thoughts began to swirl toward sleep.

  “No! No! Don’t! Please!” Pebble Heart’s tiny cry jolted him awake. The kit was struggling in his sleep, kicking out against his littermates, his eyes closed, clearly dreaming.

  “It’s okay.” Gray Wing leaned forward and nosed the kit’s twitching flanks. “It’s just a dream.” He didn’t want Pebble Heart to wake the others.

  Pebble Heart blinked awake and stared in horror at Gray Wing as though he were a badger in the nest.

  “You’re safe,” Gray Wing ran his tail softly along the kit’s spine.

  Pebble Heart sat up straight, his fur on end. “So much blood!” he breathed. “So much! It’s not right for kin to fight!”

  “What do you mean?” Gray Wing’s breath caught in his throat.

  Pebble Heart blinked at him blindly. “Kin mustn’t fight,” he murmured hazily.

  Is he even properly awake? Gray Wing touched his nose to the kit’s ear.

  Pebble Heart flinched.

  Why was he so scared? Who were the kin? He’d wondered before if Pebble Heart had Stoneteller’s powers. The kit had described more than one vivid dream and he’d already learned the herbs that Cloud Spots used, as though he was born to heal. Could this nightmare have meaning? Gray Wing remembered his own dream of Stoneteller. There will be war.

  But Pebble Heart was trembling and it seemed cruel to make him dwell on the dream. Gray Wing pushed away the dark thoughts crowding his mind and scooped the kit closer with a paw, so that he was pressed against his flank. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. He lapped the kit’s pelt with long, soothing strokes until Pebble Heart’s eyes began to droop.

  “The worst bit of the dream,” Pebble Heart murmured as his breathing slowed. “Was that you were gone.”

  “Hush.” Gray Wing’s belly tightened.

  “Turtle Tail was gone too. We were alone. Just me and Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes. We were all alone.”

  “It was just a dream,” Gray Wing promised. Let it just be a dream! He stretched his tail around all three kits, his heart aching as he listened to Turtle Tail breathing softly beside him. Turtle Tail was gone too. “We will always be close,” he whispered to Pebble Heart, trying to ignore the dread, heavy as rock in his chest. I must make Clear Sky understand. We cannot risk war! Not after coming so far.

  CHAPTER 3

  Thunder narrowed his eyes against the rising sun as he padded back into camp. He’d left to hunt before dawn, after a fitful night. His new nest had felt strange, its heather sprigs sharp. The scents of moor and forest had haunted his dreams. And his heart had ached with memories of his father.

  He brushed past the wall of the camp and crossed the clearing. A mouse dangled from his jaws. Its warm musk made his belly growl. He used to believe that he hunted better in the forest. Now he realized how much he’d missed the wide-open spaces and the feel of the wind in his tail fur. Perhaps Clear Sky’s territory wasn’t home after all.

  The other cats were out of their nests. Rainswept Flower was tugging stale heather from her nest. Dappled Pelt was sorting through the prey pile, tossing out old prey while Jackdaw’s Cry sat nearby, washing pollen from Hawk Swoop’s ears. Tall Shadow was squeezing out of the gorse den where Cloud Spots had led Frost. Jagged Peak rubbed the sleep from his eyes beside the long grass.

  Thunder blinked. Where were Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail? Had they gone hunting? A pang jabbed his belly. He’d missed the cats he’d grown up with and he’d been looking forward to catching up with them. Hawk Swoop had kitted them soon after Gray Wing had brought him to live on the moor. They’d shared the same nest and played as kits. Yesterday, he’d felt too dazed, his mind too filled with thoughts of Clear Sky and the unease of returning to the moor cats’ camp, to seek out their company. Although he’d glimpsed Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail among the others, he hadn’t felt ready to speak with them. And they hadn’t approached him. Were they scared he’d changed? He shook out his fur. He was eager to show them he was still the same cat they used to tumble around the clearing with.

  Thunder scanned the clearing. He caught Jagged Peak’s eye. Did he want to share the mouse? But Jagged Peak dropped his gaze quickly. Thunder’s paws pricked. Jackdaw’s Cry was staring at him. Thunder stared back hopefully but the tom turned away.

  Uneasy, Thunder headed for the gorse den. Perhaps Frost would appreciate his mouse. He pushed under the low branches. They scraped his spine as he ducked inside. It was cool out of the sun.

  Frost lay in a dip scooped from the sandy earth and lined with moss. “Thunder.” The white tom seemed pleased to see him.

  Thunder stopped beside his nest and dropped the mouse beside it. “This is for you.”

  “Thanks.” Frost purred gratefully.

  Thunder nudged it closer with a paw. “How are you?”

  “He’s got a fever.” Cloud Spots’s mew surprised him. The black tom was hardly visible in the shadows at the back of the den. But now that he’d spoken, Thunder could make out his white ears, chest, and paws.

  Thunder blinked at Cloud Spots, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. “Can you heal his wound?”

  “I’ve been applying poultices.” Cloud Spots padded forward and sniffed F
rost’s hind leg. “They should work eventually. But it’s been left to fester a long time. The infection’s gone pretty deep. He should have been treated earlier.”

  Frost’s eyes rounded with worry. Thunder stared at Cloud Spots. Was he accusing him, or Clear Sky, of negligence?

  “That’s not how things work in the forest,” he mumbled uncomfortably.

  “I can see that.” Cloud Spots turned his attention back to Frost. “Just be patient,” he reassured the injured cat. “The poultice I put on earlier will be working now and I asked Acorn Fur to bring more herbs back from her hunting trip.”

  “I’m going to be okay, aren’t I?” Frost asked in a tremulous voice.

  Cloud Spots nudged the moss closer around his body. “You’ll be fine. The journey from the forest has taken a toll on you and you need to rest.”

  Small paws scuffed the earth outside and the gorse branches trembled. “Which herbs is Acorn Fur collecting?” Pebble Heart padded in.

  “Marigold and dock,” Cloud Spots told the young kit.

  “Are you giving him borage?” Pebble Heart asked. “For his fever?”

  Thunder was surprised by the young cat’s knowledge. He hardly knew the names of any herbs; he had no idea which ones could cure infections. When had Pebble Heart learned all this?

  “I would, but there’s not much on the moor. It’s a forest herb and I can’t gather herbs there now.” Cloud Spots nodded at Frost. “Do forest cats collect it for wounds?”

  Frost frowned. “We don’t collect herbs. Only prey.”

  Cloud Spots blinked. “But what if you’re injured?”

  “We either recover or Clear Sky banishes us,” Frost muttered bitterly. “He’s more interested in moving borders than protecting the cats who hunt and fight for him.” He glanced at Thunder.

  Thunder stiffened. Was that reproach in his eyes? I’m not my father! “You seem busy,” he meowed quickly to Cloud Spots. “I’ll go.” He backed out of the gorse, ignoring Pebble Heart’s curious stare.

  Outside, Turtle Tail was sunning herself beside the tunnel entrance while Owl Eyes clambered over her, mewing happily.

  Wind Runner and Gorse Fur were sharing a thrush, lying languidly beside the flat rock.

  Thunder padded past them, wondering whether to greet them. He glanced toward them, conscious that Wind Runner stopped purring as soon as she saw him. His throat tightened. He swallowed back hurt and took a deep breath. I’ll prove myself to them. I’ll protect them from Clear Sky. From any danger.

  “Great attack, Sparrow Fur!”

  Jagged Peak’s enthusiastic mew jerked him from his thoughts. The lame tom was urging Sparrow Fur on with a wave of his tail. “Attack it again!”

  The body of a rabbit, its scent still warm, lay in the clearing. Sparrow Fur crouched a badger-length away, her short tail flicking. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on the prey.

  Owl Eyes watched beside Jagged Peak. “Can I have the next turn?”

  “Yes.” Jagged Peak’s eyes shone.

  Thunder padded closer. Was he teaching them hunting moves?

  Sparrow Fur shot forward, hissing. She leaped and landed on the rabbit, her small claws sinking deep into its fur. Jabbing her teeth at the back of its limp neck, she growled as she tried to shake it between her jaws.

  “Your aim is great!” Jagged Peak enthused. “Perhaps you should try attacking me. You’ll need to be ready to face an enemy who fights back.”

  Thunder’s hackles rose. He was teaching the kits battle moves! “What are you doing?” He strode toward Jagged Peak.

  Jagged Peak jerked his gaze toward Thunder, his pelt bristling. “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you teaching them how to fight?” Weren’t they trying to avoid battle with Clear Sky?

  Owl Eyes looked from Jagged Peak to Thunder, blinking with confusion. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Jagged Peak ignored the kit. “It’s none of your business, Thunder!”

  Thunder flexed his claws. “I’ve lived with forest cats and moor cats. It is my business. I don’t want to see you fight.”

  Sparrow Fur leaped off the rabbit. “But we have to learn.”

  Thunder turned on her. “You’re too young to fight battles!”

  She backed away, eyes wide.

  “Don’t take it out on the kits.” Jagged Peak limped past him and stood in front of Sparrow Fur.

  Thunder forced his fur to lie flat. “I’m not taking it out on the kits,” he growled softly. “I just don’t think you should be preparing such young cats for a battle that might never come.”

  Jagged Peak glanced at the kits. “Go and find Pebble Heart,” he ordered. “Play with him. Thunder and I want to talk.”

  Owl Eyes frowned. “You want to argue.”

  “Don’t argue over us,” Sparrow Fur pleaded.

  Thunder dipped his head, softening his gaze. “We won’t,” he promised. “Do as Jagged Peak says.”

  Shoulders drooping, she padded away. Owl Eyes followed.

  Thunder turned to Jagged Peak, surprised by the rage burning in the tom’s eyes. He hadn’t meant to upset him. “I’m sorry I interfered,” he meowed slowly. “I just don’t think we should be—”

  Jagged Peak stepped forward, curling his lip. “Who cares what you think? I’ve lived more moons than you. I came from the mountains with your father.”

  Thunder lifted his chin. That doesn’t mean you know more than me. “I was here when those kits were born!”

  “But you left, didn’t you?”

  “I wanted to live with my father!” Thunder objected. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Jagged Peak didn’t seem to hear. “Clear Sky didn’t want you, did he? Just like he didn’t want me!” Triumph edged his mew. “He kicked you out too!”

  Thunder’s claws itched. “Clear Sky didn’t kick me out,” he growled. “I left.”

  Jagged Peak hesitated, grief flashing in his eyes. “You left?”

  “I don’t agree with Clear Sky.”

  Jagged Peak’s gaze dropped suddenly. “So Clear Sky didn’t make you leave.”

  Thunder shifted his paws impatiently. What did it matter whether he’d left or been banished? “I came back to help my old friends!”

  “And we’re supposed to be grateful?” Jagged Peak snorted.

  “No! I just—”

  Jagged Peak cut him off. “You wander from moor to forest and back again, depending how you feel. Those kits—” he flicked his muzzle toward Sparrow Fur and Owl Eyes who had flushed Pebble Heart out from beneath the gorse and were chasing him around the flat rock. “Those kits were born here. They belong here and if I want to teach them how to defend what’s theirs, then they should be allowed to learn!”

  Thunder scowled at him. “Thanks for making me so welcome!” He turned away. It was pointless to argue. Jagged Peak seemed determined to hate him. Thunder padded across the clearing, sadness pressing like a stone in his belly. As he reached the soft grass edging the hollow, he spotted Gorse Fur watching him from beside the flat rock, his gaze cold.

  Thunder’s pelt burned. Did no one want him back?

  “Is everything okay, Thunder?” Hawk Swoop was crossing the clearing toward him, her orange pelt pricking with worry. “I saw you arguing with Jagged Peak.”

  “It was nothing.” Thunder touched his muzzle to her cheek as she reached him.

  She purred. “Jagged Peak’s a good cat,” she assured him. “He’s just a bit misunderstood. It must be hard relying on others for prey. We mountain cats are used to feeling independent.” Her eyes were sympathetic. She broke into a loud purr and pushed her muzzle along his jaw. “It’s great to have you back! I’ve missed you so much. I know how desperate Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail are to share news.” She glanced at the gap in the heather. “They’ll be back soon.”

  At least someone’s glad to see me.

  Hawk Swoop’s gaze flashed quickly toward Gorse Fur. The thin, gray tabby tom was still watching. “Give them time,�
� she soothed. “We’ve seen so much change. I guess some of us have grown wary of it. They’ll adjust.”

  Thunder pressed his cheek against hers gratefully, hoping she was right and that he’d be accepted soon. These were good cats. They’d helped to raise him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have left,” he whispered. A wave of shame washed over his pelt. Had he been disloyal to go to his father?

  “You wanted to be with your kin.” Hawk Swoop sat back on her haunches. “That’s the most natural feeling in the world.”

  Thunder felt a purr welling in his throat. “Thanks, Hawk Swoop.”

  “Come on.” She stood and headed for the bramble. “I’ve got some spare moss you can have for your nest.”

  As he followed her across the clearing, paw steps thrummed the earth behind him.

  Stiffening, he began to turn.

  Before he could see who approached, paws slammed into his side.

  With a yelp of surprise he tumbled to the ground.

  Pelt spiking, he tried to struggle to his paws.

  “Thunder!” Lightning Tail’s happy mew sounded above him.

  Chestnut fur flashed on the edge of his vision. Acorn Fur was circling him, her thick tail swishing with delight.

  He leaped up. “It’s you!” He blinked in surprise. “You’ve grown!” Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail were adult cats now—not as big as him, but far bigger than the kits he’d played with before he’d left the moor. He felt a sudden pang as he saw Lightning Tail. He looked like a hunter, his forehead and shoulders broad. Not the sort of cat who’d trail after Thunder like a shadow as he’d done as a kit. “How are you?” He butted Lightning Tail’s shoulder with his head.

  “I’m the best stalker on the moor.” Lightning Tail’s eyes shone with pride.

  Acorn Fur nodded. “He can stalk a hare from the moortop to the gorge without it scenting him.”

  “And Acorn Fur can kill snakes!” Lightning Tail gazed proudly at his sister.

  “I only killed one,” Acorn Fur protested.