The Sun Trail

by Erin Hunter

  But what about her safety? And Jagged Peak’s? And all the cats who want to stay here? They need strong hunters.

  When Gray Wing took up a stone, he felt as though he were trying to move the whole mountain. But his paw steps were steady as he carried it to the inner wall and set it down.

  Without looking at his mother again, Gray Wing padded back to rejoin the other cats around Stoneteller. He was in time to see Moon Shadow pick up a stone and march determinedly over to the waterfall.

  Dewy Leaf padded alongside him. “Your kits will never know their father’s name!” she hissed.

  Moon Shadow didn’t reply. After a heartbeat, Dewy Leaf whisked around, picked up her own stone, and carried it to the inner wall.

  The rest of the cats voted in silence. When the last stone had been set in place, Stoneteller examined the piles. Without looking closely, Gray Wing thought that they seemed about the same size.

  What will we do, if the votes are equal for staying and leaving?

  At last Stoneteller limped back to the center of the cave. “There are more stones in the leaving pile,” she announced.

  A murmur passed through the cats who surrounded her, like wind blowing over rock. They looked at each other with apprehension in their eyes, as if they had suddenly realized the magnitude of the decision they had helped to make.

  “Good luck to those who wish to leave,” Stoneteller continued. “We will always remember you.”

  The mood in the cave remained somber. Gray Wing couldn’t sense any feeling of triumph, or even relief, that a firm decision had been made.

  “Come on,” Shaded Moss meowed at last. “We’ll go and scout the route again. We need to know exactly what we’re doing before we finally set out.”

  He led the way to the cave entrance, and the cats who planned to go with him followed.

  Gray Wing stayed behind, feeling awkward as he watched Clear Sky and the others disappearing into the dazzle of light from the falling water. After a moment he realized that Quiet Rain had padded up to him.

  “I told you to leave,” she murmured. “You need to consider your future.”

  Gray Wing stretched out his neck to touch noses with her. “My future is here,” he told her. With a brief nod, he headed out of the cave and toward the ridge, his ears pricked and his jaws parted for the faintest hint of prey.

  As he climbed, Gray Wing spotted Shaded Moss and his followers on top of the ridge. Shaded Moss seemed to be explaining something with waves of his tail, while his companions offered comments and suggestions. They’re making their plans to leave, Gray Wing thought, with a pang of loss at his heart.

  He didn’t want to meet them. Turning, he bounded in the opposite direction, down into the valley, hoping he might come across another hare. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a flicker of movement and veered toward it, his paws skidding in a flurry of snow.

  It was a small creature—a mouse or vole—scampering rapidly over the icy surface. Gray Wing put on an extra burst of speed, but just before he caught up, it slipped through a narrow gap between two boulders and was gone. Gray Wing tried to squeeze through after it, but the space was too small.

  He halted, letting out a growl of frustration. His tail drooped dejectedly, and for a few heartbeats he lost all hope. Why is it so hard to go on living here? Why must so many cats leave?

  A faint sound from behind made him whirl, his claws extended. Then he froze with astonishment. Stoneteller stood in front of him, her white pelt barely visible against the snow. Gray Wing couldn’t remember the last time she had left the cave.

  “Are—are you all right?” he stammered.

  “I’m fine,” Stoneteller responded. Padding past him, she clambered awkwardly to the flat top of a nearby rock. “I just wanted some fresh air,” she continued. “It’s been a long time. . . .”

  Gray Wing leaped up to sit beside her. “Stoneteller,” he blurted out, “are you sure there’s a better place beyond the sunrise?”

  Stoneteller turned her green gaze on him. “I felt more certain during my dream than ever before in my life,” she assured him. “I’m sad to watch so many cats leave, but I truly believe it will give all of us the best chance of survival.”

  “Then why did you leave the lake?” Gray Wing asked. He was awestruck to be questioning Stoneteller about an event that had happened so long ago. She was there . . . she remembers all of it. “Was it worth it, to come and live here?”

  “It was,” Stoneteller replied, a wistful note in her voice. “We left for the best of reasons, and for a long time now these mountains have sheltered us well. And I had the honor of leading the Tribe in our new territory.”

  Gray Wing felt a pang of pity for the old she-cat. Stoneteller gave up her whole life in our service. She never had the chance to have a mate and kits of her own.

  “Things could have been different for you,” he suggested awkwardly. “Did you ever want another kind of life?”

  Stoneteller shook her head, seeming to understand what he meant. “All the cats in the Tribe are my kits, even the elders. And as for finding a mate . . . I knew love once, and once was enough. We can never be sure of our future, Gray Wing,” she added quietly. “All we can do is trust that what we believe is right.”

  “Well, I believe that it’s the right thing for me to stay here,” Gray Wing meowed.

  Stoneteller did not reply in words, but the nod she gave him silenced his doubts.

  Gray Wing stood on top of the rocks in the pale dawn light, his fur buffeted by the wind. All the cats, even the kits, were gathered around Stoneteller, who stood on a boulder near the waterfall. Those leaving with Shaded Moss stood close together. Gray Wing watched them flexing their paws impatiently, exchanging excited, apprehensive glances.

  As they waited for Stoneteller to speak, Clear Sky broke from Shaded Moss’s group to pad over to where Gray Wing stood beside their mother and brother.

  “Good-bye,” he murmured, brushing his muzzle against Quiet Rain’s shoulder and then Gray Wing’s, before stooping to touch Jagged Peak’s ear with his nose. “I hope everything will go well for you now. And who knows?” he added, clearly trying to sound cheerful. “One day I might come back and visit.”

  Gray Wing exchanged a glance with Quiet Rain, seeing that she knew perfectly well that would never happen.

  But neither of them spoke their thought aloud.

  “Travel safely, my son,” Quiet Rain mewed.

  “Why can’t I come with you?” Jagged Peak broke in loudly.

  Quiet Rain silenced him with a glance; the young kit scrabbled sulkily at the loose pebbles beside the river. Quiet Rain’s glance drifted beyond him, to the small pile of stones that covered Fluttering Bird.

  “Are you sure you won’t come?” Clear Sky meowed to Gray Wing. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  Gray Wing touched his muzzle to Clear Sky’s, and the two brothers twined tails. “I’m sorry you have to do this without me,” Gray Wing responded, loss piercing his heart like an eagle’s talon. “But my place is here, with Quiet Rain and Jagged Peak.”

  “I’m glad they have you to care for them,” Clear Sky told him.

  He dipped his head one last time and padded back to stand beside Bright Stream. She held her head high, but Gray Wing could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

  At last Stoneteller flicked her tail toward Shaded Moss. “Tonight the moon will be full,” she mewed. “It is time for you to leave us. Shaded Moss, do you wish to speak?”

  The sturdy black-and-white tom leaped up onto the boulder beside her and glanced around at the assembled cats. “We trust the Teller of the Pointed Stones to know where our future lies,” he began. “We will follow the path to the rising sun, but we will always carry the mountains, and all of you, in our hearts.”

  “That won’t stop us missing you,” Misty Water muttered.

  Shaded Moss bowed his head in respect to the elder before continuing. “I hope that, with fewer cats to feed, the hunting
will become easier.”

  As Shaded Moss finished speaking, Stoneteller touched his shoulder with her tail-tip and took a step forward. “I thank you, Shaded Moss, and all departing cats, for your selfless courage. This is the greatest gift that you could give us. We will never forget you.” She took a breath, and focused her bright green gaze on the cats with Shaded Moss. “You’ll meet strange creatures on your journey,” she continued. “Hairless creatures called Twolegs, because they walk on their hind legs. And shiny roaring beasts that seem like monsters, racing along hard black tracks we called Thunderpaths.”

  Turtle Tail’s eyes stretched wide and she let out a gasp of dismay. “You mean those are real?” she asked. “I thought they were just elders’ tales.”

  Stoneteller shook her head. “They’re real, but they can be avoided. The monsters seem unable to leave the Thunderpaths, but you’ll still need to use all your cunning.” Her voice sounded more anxious now. “Don’t forget that there’ll be new enemies too—not just birds, but foxes and badgers. And did I tell you that there might even be trouble from other cats?”

  Shaded Moss dipped his head. “We discussed all this, Stoneteller.”

  “Don’t forget,” Cloud Spots put in, “Dappled Pelt and I know a lot about herbs and healing. If things go wrong, we’ll be able to help.”

  The old white cat’s whiskers twitched and her shoulder fur began to rise. Gray Wing’s pads tingled with apprehension as he realized that she wasn’t as certain as she had always seemed.

  “Trust nothing,” Stoneteller meowed urgently, “but your own instincts.”

  Shaded Moss laid his tail reassuringly over Stoneteller’s back. “We will learn as we travel,” he responded gently. “We have trusted you to send us toward the sun; now trust us to travel safely and to find this new place to live.”

  Stoneteller let out a long sigh. She slid from the rock and padded over to those who were leaving with Shaded Moss, touching her nose to each cat’s shoulder as she spoke. “Find somewhere that suits all of you,” she mewed. “Tall Shadow, your gift for stalking and guile; Clear Sky, your gift for bringing down birds from the air; Turtle Tail, your speed and sharp eyes; Rainswept Flower, your ability to track far-off prey by scent alone. All of your talents must find the right place to blossom.” She gazed at the cats, her green eyes full of love and grief. “Good luck,” she added at last.

  Shaded Moss waved his tail and led his group down the rocks toward the pool below the waterfall.

  “Good-bye!” Gray Wing called, his gaze fixed on his brother. “Stay safe!”

  “Good riddance is what I say!” Dewy Leaf snarled. “Cowards! They’re just leaving us all to starve.”

  “Right,” Twisted Branch agreed. “Well, we don’t need them.”

  Gray Wing stood beside Quiet Rain and watched the departing cats as they wound their way down the mountainside until they were out of sight.

  The remaining cats stood for a moment in silence, looking at one another. The Tribe seemed so small now, with so few cats left. Gray Wing realized elders and kits now outnumbered the stronger cats. His paws tingled with apprehension, but he crushed it down.

  “We can’t stand here all day,” he meowed at last. “Stone Song, Twisted Branch, Dewy Leaf, we should hunt while it’s still light.”

  “What?” Dewy Leaf lashed her tail. “Have you forgotten I’m expecting kits?”

  You don’t let us forget it, Gray Wing thought, though he stopped himself from speaking the words aloud. “We’re the strongest cats left behind,” he went on quietly. “We must try to catch enough food for every cat.”

  Twisted Branch nodded, a look of determination in his amber eyes.

  “You’re not Stoneteller. You don’t get to order me around,” Dewy Leaf muttered. She paused for a heartbeat, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll hunt.”

  As Stoneteller began to lead the rest of her Tribe down toward the cave, Sharp Hail and Silver Frost stayed behind. “We’ll hunt too,” Silver Frost announced. “We might not be as young as you, but our claws are still sharp.”

  “Right,” Sharp Hail agreed. “We owe it to the cats who have gone not to give up now. We need to find a new way to survive.”

  “Thank you,” Gray Wing responded, grateful for the older tom’s wisdom.

  Leaving the other cats behind, Gray Wing trekked along the cliff edge, moving away from the river. The mountains seemed even quieter than usual. He paused from time to time, straining his ears for any sign of the traveling cats farther along the valley, and gazed around him in the hope of catching one last glimpse of them. But they had vanished against the snow and rocks.

  I’ll never see them again.

  A dark shadow passed over Gray Wing’s head and he looked up to see a young hawk skimming the surface of the snow as if it too was searching for prey. As it mounted into the air again Gray Wing flung himself upward, remembering Clear Sky’s favorite move.

  His claws snagged one wing; he and the hawk fell to the ground together and rolled over in the snow. Gray Wing felt talons rake through his pelt. With a yowl of mingled pain and fury he sank his claws into the hawk’s breast and brought his teeth together in its throat with a swift snap.

  The hawk went limp. Puffing, Gray Wing scrambled to his paws and shook the snow off his pelt. Then he picked up the hawk by the neck and began plodding back to the cave, his prey’s strong, barred wings trailing in the snow.

  By the time he reached the path behind the waterfall the other hunting cats were also returning. Stone Song and Silver Frost had each caught a mouse, and Twisted Branch and Dewy Leaf were dragging a snow hare between them.

  “We caught it together,” Twisted Branch mumbled through a mouthful of fur. “I chased it, and it doubled back—right into Dewy Leaf’s claws. It was great!”

  The other cats gathered around as the hunters dropped their prey on the floor of the cave. Even so, Gray Wing thought that the cavern seemed quiet and empty, with so few cats remaining. Their voices seemed to echo strangely as they shared the prey, taking a mouthful and then exchanging with one another.

  “I will hunt tomorrow,” Quiet Rain promised.

  “So will I,” Hollow Tree agreed, brushing her tail along the flank of her mate, Stone Song.

  “Why don’t we take turns?” Stone Song suggested. “So every cat keeps their hunting skills sharp, and no cat has to go out every day.”

  Stoneteller gave the dark gray tabby tom an approving nod. “A very good idea. Stone Song, would you like to arrange it?”

  Stone Song’s eyes gleamed at his Healer’s praise. “I’d be glad to.”

  Gray Wing glanced at his Tribemates, and caught the same look of determination on all their faces. He felt reassured that the sacrifice of the cats who had left would not be wasted.

  We can make this work.

  A paw prodding him in the side woke Gray Wing the next morning. He blinked blearily in the light that slanted through the waterfall, and made out Stone Song standing over him.

  “Are you okay to hunt?” the tabby tom asked. “I’m arranging the new plan, starting today. Quiet Rain and Hollow Tree are going out, and I’ll go myself. I want to find out if four cats hunting every day are enough.”

  “Sure.”

  The light from the cave entrance was brighter than Gray Wing had seen it for many days, as if the sun was shining outside. Maybe that’s a good sign, he thought. Better than trying to hunt in a blizzard, anyway.

  As he loped toward the entrance he heard the swift pattering of paws behind him, and Jagged Peak’s voice rose shrilly. “Gray Wing! Wait for me!”

  Gray Wing turned as Jagged Peak skidded to a halt beside him. “I want to hunt with you,” the kit announced.

  Gray Wing suppressed a sigh. “You’re too young,” he replied. “Go and play with the other kits.”

  “They only want to do dumb stuff,” Jagged Peak muttered. “Pouncing on a pebble and pretending it’s an eagle! I want to pounce on real eagles.”

  “An ea
gle would just make a mouthful of you,” Gray Wing meowed.

  “Would not!” Jagged Peak protested. “I’m big! I’m the oldest kit—I should be allowed to hunt.”

  Reluctantly, Gray Wing admitted to himself that his brother had a point. Maybe it is time he started to train. We could certainly use another hunter.

  “What’s the matter?” Quiet Rain asked, padding up to them. “Jagged Peak, are you making a nuisance of yourself?”

  “He wants to learn how to hunt,” Gray Wing explained, before Jagged Peak could reply.

  He caught a swift flash of fear in his mother’s eyes, as if she was thinking of all the dangers outside the cave for a cat as small as Jagged Peak. “He’s so young. . . .”

  Jagged Peak’s fur bristled. “I’m the oldest—”

  Gray Wing slapped his tail over the kit’s mouth, earning himself an indignant glare.

  “He is nearly old enough,” he told Quiet Rain. When his mother still looked doubtful, he added, “Better he comes with me than tries to sneak out on his own.”

  Quiet Rain hesitated for a moment longer, then gave a reluctant nod. “All right.” Turning to Jagged Peak, she added, “Stay with Gray Wing, and do exactly what he tells you.”

  Jagged Peak nodded vigorously. His eyes were bright and he began pacing with excitement. “Let’s go!”

  Gray Wing held Jagged Peak back with his tail as the kit tried to scamper up the path that led behind the waterfall. “The first thing you have to learn,” he said, “is not to go dashing off. Follow me, and keep quiet.”

  Though Jagged Peak’s eyes still sparkled, he settled down and padded after Gray Wing. Quiet Rain brought up the rear. Stone Song and Hollow Tree had already left; when he emerged into the open, Gray Wing spotted them together, climbing the opposite slope.

  Quiet Rain caught up to Jagged Peak, hesitated, then mewed, “Good hunting,” before she headed up the rocks toward the top of the cliff.