The Sun Trail

by Erin Hunter

  Gray Wing guessed that she would rather have stayed with her kit, but she knew she had to concentrate on her own hunting.

  “Okay,” he began, “the most important thing to remember is that, out here, you can be prey too. Some of these birds are strong enough to fly away with a full-grown cat in their talons. Always be aware of what’s going on above your head. Got that?”

  Jagged Peak’s eyes stretched wide. “Got it.”

  Gray Wing was relieved that his brother seemed to be taking the warning seriously.

  “The next thing,” he went on, “is searching for prey. Charging around is pointless—you’ll just scare the animals back into their holes. Use your eyes and nose, and taste the air for scent. Try it now, and see if you can pick up anything.”

  Jagged Peak stood still, his ears pricked and his jaws parted. His gaze swiveled around, taking in the snow-covered slopes; Gray Wing was glad to see that he kept casting glances upward as well.

  “Can you spot anything?” he asked after a moment.

  Jagged Peak dipped his head, looking disappointed. “No.”

  “Don’t worry, neither can I,” Gray Wing told him. “Prey doesn’t usually come this close to our cave. We’ll go and look somewhere else in a moment, but first I want to show you how to stalk. You have to learn to get as close as you can to your prey without it knowing you’re there. How do you think you might do that?”

  Jagged Peak crouched down into the snow. “Keep as small as I can?” he suggested.

  “Right. But when there’s snow on the ground, don’t drop so low that it clogs your fur and slows you down. Move like this. . . .”

  Gray Wing lowered himself into position so that his belly fur was just brushing the surface of the snow. Then he crept forward slowly and carefully. Jagged Peak stayed by his side, copying.

  “That’s good,” Gray Wing told him, impressed by how quickly his brother was learning. “And what about scent? How can you stop your prey from scenting you before you’re close enough to pounce?”

  Jagged Peak thought for a moment, his whiskers quivering, then grumbled, “I don’t know.”

  “Think about wind,” Gray Wing prompted.

  “Wind . . .” Jagged Peak sank into deep thought again. “I know!” he exclaimed at last. “The wind carries scent, so I’ve got to make sure that it’s blowing from my prey to me, and not the other way.”

  Gray Wing let out a satisfied purr. “You’ll be a hunter in no time. Now let’s go and see what we can find. Don’t forget to keep looking at the sky.”

  He led the way up the slope toward the ridge. “This is a good place for finding snow hares,” he told Jagged Peak. “Remember that their fur turns white in the cold season, so it’s hard to spot them unless they’re against the bare rocks. And they’re very fast, so you need to get as close as you can before they know you’re there. If you end up chasing one, you’ll likely lose it.”

  As he spoke, Gray Wing realized that Jagged Peak was distracted, constantly staring into the distance. “Hey—concentrate!” he meowed.

  “Sorry.” But after a few more paw steps, Jagged Peak was gazing around again.

  Gray Wing stopped, irritated, but before he could speak he spotted movement among the rocks above. The white-furred body of a hare was just visible between two boulders.

  Nudging Jagged Peak, he flicked his ears in the direction of the hare. “Want to see if you can catch it?” he whispered.

  Jagged Peak’s eyes widened in excitement. Crouching down carefully, he crept closer to his prey.

  He’s forgotten the wind, Gray Wing realized, though he said nothing.

  Jagged Peak had covered about half the distance when the hare suddenly sat up, its long ears erect and its nose twitching. Then it burst from the shelter of the boulders and fled across the slope, snow spraying from under its paws.

  Letting out a yowl of frustration, Jagged Peak hurtled in pursuit. As he was so small and light, his paws skimmed easily across the surface of the snow. Gray Wing raced after him.

  At first Jagged Peak seemed to be gaining ground, but the hare was bigger and stronger, and soon started to outpace him. We’re going to lose it, Gray Wing thought, forcing his muscles to bunch and stretch in an effort to catch up.

  A heartbeat later, a harsh cry rang out. A hawk plummeted from the sky, talons outstretched. The hare let out a squeal of terror and swerved away, heading back toward Jagged Peak.

  The young cat sprang and collided with the creature in a small storm of flying snow. Gray Wing saw a thrashing knot of legs and Jagged Peak’s wildly waving tail.

  But the hawk hadn’t given up. It dived again. Gray Wing realized that if it couldn’t catch the hare, it would settle for Jagged Peak.

  With a wild screech, Gray Wing leaped for the hawk as it bore down. He felt his claws scrape the underside of the hawk’s wing. With another harsh cry the bird mounted into the air, higher and higher until it was only a black dot in the sky.

  Once he was sure it wasn’t a threat anymore, Gray Wing spun around toward his brother. He saw Jagged Peak standing shakily on all four paws, the body of the hare stretched motionless in the snow in front of him.

  “I got it!” he exclaimed. “I’m a hunter now!”

  “Terrific!” Gray Wing praised him. “You did really well. But don’t forget,” he added, “you still have a lot to learn.”

  The hare was bigger than Jagged Peak, and he needed Gray Wing’s help to drag it back to the cave. The rest of the Tribe gathered around, exclaiming in wonder when Gray Wing told them how Jagged Peak had made his catch.

  “Prey had better watch out!” Lion’s Roar gave the young cat a friendly prod with his tail.

  “It’s your prey,” Gray Wing pointed out to his brother. “So you can eat first.”

  Jagged Peak’s eyes gleamed as he tore into the hare. Watching him gulp down mouthful after mouthful, Gray Wing reflected on how hungry the kit had been for so long. This could be the first good meal he’s ever had.

  There was still plenty left when Jagged Peak drew back. “I’m stuffed!” he declared.

  The rest of the Tribe was just beginning to eat when Quiet Rain came back, a hawk dangling from her jaws.

  “You had good hunting,” she remarked, dropping her prey beside the remains of the hare.

  “Jagged Peak caught it,” Gray Wing replied, while Jagged Peak puffed out his chest with pride.

  Quiet Rain’s eyes glowed as she gazed at her young son. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Gray Wing, thank you for teaching him so well.”

  As Gray Wing settled down to eat his share of the prey he wondered once again what their departed Tribemates were doing. It still felt strange that there were so few cats left in the cave. I hope they’re all safe, and that they’ve found enough to eat.

  “Can we go out again?” Jagged Peak mewed when Gray Wing had finished eating. “Hunting’s really exciting!”

  Gray Wing glanced toward the cave entrance and saw that the short day was already coming to an end, dusk gathering beyond the waterfall.

  “Not now,” Quiet Rain responded, before he could speak. “It’s time for you to go to your nest. You can hunt again tomorrow.”

  “But I’m not tired!” Jagged Peak protested. “I can—” His words were interrupted by an enormous yawn.

  “No more arguing,” Quiet Rain mewed briskly.

  She nudged Jagged Peak across the cavern to their sleeping hollows, and Gray Wing followed. As he settled down, he realized once again how empty the nest now felt. He desperately missed the feeling of his brother’s fur against his.

  I wonder where the traveling cats are now. . . .

  Gray Wing woke abruptly to see pale dawn light filtering through the waterfall. Quiet Rain was pacing nervously beside him, and he realized that her growls had awoken him.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, springing out of his hollow.

  “Jagged Peak’s nest is empty,” his mother replied. “He must have gone out by himself—
and he knows that he’s not supposed to do that.”

  Gray Wing let his tail-tip rest on his mother’s back comfortingly. “He couldn’t have gone far,” he meowed. “I’ll bring him back.”

  He scanned the slopes as he emerged from behind the waterfall. Nothing moved in all the snowy landscape.

  “Jagged Peak! Jagged Peak!” he yowled.

  Silence.

  Stupid kit, he thought, scrambling up the rocks that led to the plateau. Wind buffeted his fur as he reached the top and looked around carefully. There was no sign of his brother, and no reply when he called out again.

  Beginning to feel troubled, Gray Wing returned to the cave to find his mother waiting anxiously beside the waterfall, a few of the other cats gathered around her. “I’m sorry,” he mewed. “I can’t find him. He’s not beside the pool or on the plateau.”

  Quiet Rain began pacing again. “A hawk must have taken him!” she wailed. “Or he’s been smothered in a snowdrift.”

  Silver Frost brushed her tail along Quiet Rain’s side. “Jagged Peak is a strong young cat,” she said. “And he’s not stupid. He knows to keep himself out of danger.”

  “That’s right,” Lion’s Roar agreed. “He’ll probably turn up soon, with a piece of prey twice his own size!”

  “I wish I could believe you,” Quiet Rain murmured.

  Gray Wing was worried too. “I’ll go out and take another look,” he promised. “Misty Water,” he added, turning to the elder, “will you come with me?”

  “What?” Snow Hare pushed herself between Misty Water and Gray Wing. “She’s too old, and her eyesight is failing,” she hissed into Gray Wing’s ear. “She’ll be no help!”

  “That’s not true.” Gray Wing gently nudged Snow Hare aside. “Misty Water,” he mewed, “Broken Feather told me many times that you were the best scent tracker he had ever known. If any cat has a chance of tracking Jagged Peak, it’s you.”

  Misty Water blinked up at him with milky blue eyes. “I’ll come,” she responded.

  Gray Wing led the way out of the cave, and Misty Water followed, her paw steps stiff and shaky. As soon as she came to the end of the path, she grew more alert, her nose to the ledge, her jaws open to draw in scent. “He went this way,” she announced, beginning to haul herself awkwardly over the rocks that led to the plateau. “I’ll claw that pesky kit when I catch him,” she panted. “My old bones aren’t fit for this.”

  Gray Wing scrambled up beside her. “This can’t be right,” he protested, struggling with disappointment. “Jagged Peak was up here two days ago, with the rest of us, when we said farewell to the others.”

  Misty Water halted and glared at him. “You think I can’t tell a two-day-old scent from a fresh one?” she demanded. “This scent is laid on top of the older one. You young cats think you know everything.”

  Gray Wing kept quiet and followed the elder as she dragged herself over the lip of the plateau, then padded to the little heap of stones that covered Fluttering Bird.

  “Did Jagged Peak come over here two days ago?” she asked.

  Gray Wing thought back, picturing the scene in his mind. “No,” he replied at last.

  “Well, he came here today,” Misty Water mewed. “His scent has pooled, so it shows he spent some time here. . . .” She paused, scenting all around the heap of stones, before clambering down beside the waterfall again. “Then he went this way.”

  The old cat branched off over a clump of boulders.

  Gray Wing stared at her in amazement. “Are you sure?”

  Misty Water glanced back, her eyes narrowed in an icy glare. “Are you saying I’m too old to recognize a scent trail?”

  “No, but . . . that’s the way the traveling cats went.”

  As Gray Wing spoke the sun finally pierced through the dark clouds that were massing on the horizon, casting a yellow beam over the side of the mountain. Realization hit him like a blow from a falling rock. “Jagged Peak left to find the traveling cats!” he exclaimed. “He’s following the trail of the sun.”

  Misty Water gave the boulders a last sniff, then returned to Gray Wing’s side. “Stupid kit,” she muttered. “He’ll be back when his belly starts rumbling.”

  Gray Wing wished he could share her confidence. Jagged Peak is so stone-headed. And since he caught that hare, he probably thinks he can catch anything he wants.

  He helped Misty Water down the rocks, then ran ahead back to the cave, where he found Quiet Rain anxiously telling Stoneteller what had happened. She whipped around as Gray Wing raced over to her. “Did you find him?” she asked.

  Gray Wing shook his head. “Misty Water picked up Jagged Peak’s scent,” he explained. “It looks as if he went to say good-bye to Fluttering Bird at the pile of stones, and then followed the other cats heading out of the mountains.”

  Quiet Rain gasped in horror, her eyes wide with dismay. “Oh, no . . .” Her voice quivered with anguish. “He’ll be killed!”

  Gray Wing pressed his muzzle against his mother’s shoulder. “Jagged Peak can look after himself—”

  “He can’t look after himself!” Quiet Rain’s voice rose to a wail. “He’s too young.” Straightening up, she took a deep breath, obviously fighting for self-control. “Gray Wing,” she meowed, “you wouldn’t leave when I told you to before. But now you must. You have to find your brother and make sure he reaches this new place safely.”

  Gray Wing glanced at Stoneteller. The old white she-cat didn’t speak, but he saw encouragement in her green eyes. Glancing around the cave, he saw Twisted Branch and Dewy Leaf on their way out to hunt. The Tribe would not lack for hunting with those two around.

  Then he remembered the golden path of sunlight that he had seen stretching across the valley, tugging him away from his home in the cave.

  He turned back to meet his mother’s pleading gaze. “All right,” he agreed. “I will go after Jagged Peak.”

  Gray Wing headed for the cave entrance, but halted when he saw Dewy Leaf and Twisted Branch returning, only heartbeats after they had left. Both were covered in snow, and stopped to shake their pelts.

  “There’s a blizzard out there,” Twisted Branch announced. “We won’t be able to catch anything until it’s over.”

  Dewy Leaf gave a snort of disgust. “The wind nearly blew me off the mountain.”

  Quiet Rain padded to Gray Wing’s side. “You can’t leave in weather like this,” she mewed, her voice sharp with anxiety.

  Gray Wing understood how worried she must be about Jagged Peak, especially now that the snow had set in. “I can try—”

  “No!” Quiet Rain interrupted. “Do you think I want all my kits to freeze to death?”

  “She’s right.” Stoneteller approached and touched Quiet Rain’s ear with her nose. “Jagged Peak will find shelter, and so will Shaded Moss and his cats. You won’t fall any further behind by waiting until the storm is over.”

  Gray Wing’s paws itched with impatience as the day continued, snowflakes outside whirling like white feathers out of a gray sky. By the time the storm blew itself out, the sun was setting behind the mountains in a dull red glow. Sharp Hail and Hollow Tree went out to hunt, but Gray Wing knew that it was too late for him to start his journey.

  Grief and apprehension had settled over the cave like a low cloud. Every cat feared the worst for Jagged Peak. Gray Wing could only hope that Stoneteller was right, and his little brother had been able to find shelter.

  His mother bore the waiting with quiet dignity, though her eyes were dark pools of pain. Gray Wing padded to where she crouched near the cave entrance.

  “It doesn’t seem fair that you should lose all your kits,” he murmured, sitting beside her.

  “I have no choice,” Quiet Rain sighed. “And I still have Fluttering Bird near me, beneath her pelt of stones.”

  Gray Wing leaned closer to his mother so that his fur brushed hers, and sat with her as the light from the gray screen of falling water faded to darkness. His heart felt like it might
burst with grief.

  The sound of paw steps roused him and he saw Hollow Tree and Sharp Hail returning, their legs and belly fur plastered with snow. Hollow Tree was carrying a small, scrawny bird.

  “Gray Wing, you should have this,” she meowed, dropping it in front of him. “It will give you the strength to follow Jagged Peak.”

  “I can’t,” Gray Wing protested, with a glance toward his Tribemates deeper inside the cave. “No cat has eaten today.”

  Sharp Hail pushed the bird closer to Gray Wing with one paw. “And this miserable thing won’t fill one cat, let alone the whole Tribe.”

  “You need it,” Stoneteller agreed, appearing from the shadows. “None of us would begrudge you a mouthful.”

  “Thank you,” Gray Wing mewed.

  He gulped down the bird in a few bites, then went to his sleeping hollow. Even though he knew he needed to rest for his journey, it took a long time for him to sleep. Curled up with the noise of the waterfall in his ears, he wondered drowsily if this was the last time he would ever hear it.

  Toward dawn he sank into deeper sleep, and woke to the sound of a cat padding past him. Turning his head, he spotted Stoneteller heading toward the cave entrance, where she sat and stared into the thunderous water. Gray Wing went to join her.

  As he sat down at her side, Stoneteller glanced at him. “I don’t know if I did the right thing by sending so many cats away,” she admitted. “But the vision of the sun trail seemed to offer a way out of the agony of seeing my Tribe starve to death in the long cold season. . . .”

  Her voice was quiet, almost as if she was talking to herself. Gray Wing hardly knew what to say. “None of us knows what the future holds,” he mewed at last. “We can only trust our instincts.”

  Stoneteller dipped her head in acknowledgment. “We’ll miss you, Gray Wing.”

  “I didn’t want to leave,” Gray Wing confessed. “But now I know there’s something I must do. I promise that I’ll find Jagged Peak and take him to join the others in their new home.”

  Light began filtering through the waterfall, and Gray Wing heard the sounds of his Tribemates stirring. One by one they gathered around him and Stoneteller.