The Sun Trail

by Erin Hunter

  “Come on!” she called, waving her tail at Gray Wing. “It’s great up here!”

  Gray Wing followed her more slowly, and clambered up the rock, digging his claws into tiny cracks, until he stood beside her. The sun-warmed surface felt good under his pads, and he lay down on one side to let the sunlight play over his fur.

  Turtle Tail sat beside him, her tail wrapped neatly over her forepaws, and sighed with contentment. “I’d like to stay here forever.”

  Drowsing, Gray Wing lost track of time until a voice from the bottom of the rock roused him.

  “Hey, you up there!”

  Side by side, Gray Wing and Turtle Tail peered over the edge. To his surprise, Gray Wing saw the plump tortoiseshell who had been watching him and Clear Sky when they came to the hollow, looking up with a cheerful gleam in her yellow eyes.

  “I’m Bumble,” she announced confidently. “I’m a housecat—though I guess you’d call me a kittypet. Can I come up?”

  “Sure,” Turtle Tail invited with a wave of her tail.

  To Gray Wing’s eyes, the plump tortoiseshell didn’t look as if she would be able to climb, but within a couple of heartbeats she had heaved herself to the top of the boulder beside them.

  “Hello,” Turtle Tail greeted her. “I’m Turtle Tail, and this is Gray Wing.”

  “Wow, aren’t you skinny?” Bumble meowed, examining the two mountain cats with a frank gaze. “Haven’t you managed to catch anything to eat?”

  “We’ve come a long way,” Turtle Tail responded; Gray Wing was amused to see she looked slightly ruffled. “There wasn’t always time to hunt.”

  Bumble blinked curiously. “A long way? How long? From the other side of the moor?”

  “Farther than that,” Gray Wing replied.

  “You know those jagged rocks on the horizon? Highstones?” said Turtle Tail.

  The kittypet’s eyes stretched wide with astonishment. “You came from there?”

  Turtle Tail shook her head. “No, from the other side of Highstones. We traveled for many, many sunrises.”

  “Why?” Bumble sounded completely flummoxed.

  “There wasn’t enough prey to feed all of us where we came from,” Gray Wing explained. “And in the cold season, we would often get stuck in the really deep snow.”

  “And sometimes cats got carried off by birds.” There was a gleam in Turtle Tail’s eye, as if she was enjoying shocking this kittypet. “Huge birds—far bigger than the ones around here.”

  “That sounds so hard!” Bumble exclaimed. “You must have been cold and hungry and scared all the time. No wonder you came to live here.” She looked around her with a happy flick of her tail. “It’s nice.”

  “But you don’t live here, do you?” Turtle Tail asked. “You live with Twolegs. That’s . . . weird.”

  “Weird?” Bumble’s whiskers twitched. “It’s great! My housefolk’s den is so cozy, and there’s always plenty of food, and nothing to be scared of.”

  “But what do you do all day?” Turtle Tail asked.

  “Sleep, mostly,” the kittypet said. “Or play with my housefolk’s kits. And if I get tired of that, I come here.”

  “The wild cats don’t bother you?” Gray Wing asked.

  “No. They know I’m no threat to their hunting.”

  For a while all three cats lazed in the sun. Gray Wing enjoyed the warmth on his fur, but after a while his growling belly reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the day before.

  Turtle Tail gave him a prod. “We should hunt,” she mewed.

  “I’m glad I don’t have to do that!” Bumble gave them a friendly nod and scrambled down the rock. “See you later!”

  “What a boring way to live,” Turtle Tail commented, jumping to the forest floor.

  Gray Wing hesitated before following her; the rock underneath his paws had been a pleasant reminder of the mountains.

  Together the two cats headed back toward the open moor.

  “I can’t get used to hunting under trees,” Turtle Tail confided to Gray Wing. “They’re too noisy, and I’m afraid of crashing into them.”

  “True,” Gray Wing agreed. “It’s impossible to concentrate on prey.”

  Turtle Tail padded on in silence for a while, then murmured, “I wonder if we’ll ever see Bumble again.”

  “I doubt it,” Gray Wing responded. “She won’t want to talk to ferocious wild cats like us. We might eat her!”

  Turtle Tail let out a mrrow of amusement. A heartbeat later she stiffened. “Rabbit!” she whispered.

  By now they had left the trees behind and were climbing up the swell of moorland toward their hollow. The rabbit was hopping about not far from the crest, nibbling the grass.

  Both cats sprang forward. But the scratches on Gray Wing’s flank slowed him down, and Turtle Tail surged ahead. The rabbit bolted, vanishing over the crest of the hill, with Turtle Tail racing after it.

  When Gray Wing reached the top he looked down to see Turtle Tail standing over the body of the rabbit. “Great catch!” he meowed as he bounded down to join her.

  After they had eaten their prey, Gray Wing and Turtle Tail headed back to the hollow. Clear Sky and the rest of the hunting cats caught up as they arrived. Clear Sky was dragging a squirrel, Moon Shadow had a thrush, and the others were carrying mice.

  “You should have seen Clear Sky chase that squirrel!” Jagged Peak mumbled around his mouthful of prey. “He went right to the top of the tree!”

  Clear Sky’s eyes gleamed with pride. To Gray Wing, his brother looked more like his old self. Maybe the cloud of Bright Stream’s death is starting to lift at last.

  Tall Shadow dipped her head to the hunting cats as they carried their prey to the bottom of the hollow and set it down. “Congratulations. You’ve done very well.” As the other cats gathered around, she added, “Thank you, Stoneteller, for sending us to this place where we can find prey.”

  While the cats were eating, the sun began to sink behind Highstones, flooding the sky with scarlet. Gray Wing relaxed, glad that, for once, the cats were at peace with one another. Gazing at the landscape, which was starting to feel more familiar, he began to let himself believe that they might have reached the place that Stoneteller promised.

  Gray Wing paused at the edge of the moor and looked down at the tops of the four great oak trees. Already they were lusher than when he had first seen them. The sun was shining, the air was full of fresh scents, and he could see new plants springing up all around.

  I can’t believe how rich the growth is! It was never like this in the mountains.

  Stretching his muscles, Gray Wing ran just for the joy of it, circling the edge of the moor, then heading toward the edge of the gorge. He had avoided the river ever since he had startled Clear Sky into falling, but he remembered the excitement of the thundering water and the rocks that brought the mountains so vividly into his mind.

  Gray Wing hadn’t gone far when he heard the squeal of a terrified rabbit and, farther away, the yowl of a hunting cat. He halted as he saw the rabbit come tearing over the crest of the moorland, with the two cats he had met before—Gorse and Wind—close behind. Gray Wing’s instincts told him to join the pursuit, but he wanted to avoid hostility, and dug his claws firmly into the soil.

  The rabbit flashed past him, followed by Wind with Gorse a couple of tail-lengths behind. Suddenly the rabbit dived between two stones and vanished into a barely visible hole in the ground. Gray Wing let out a gasp of astonishment as Wind, without breaking stride, dived down the hole after it.

  Gorse skidded to a halt. “That’s not fair!” he panted. “You shouldn’t keep going underground just because you’re skinny!”

  Gray Wing padded over to the gray tabby tom, who turned to him with a wary look in his eyes. “It’s okay,” Gray Wing meowed. “I’m not looking for a fight. What did you mean, going underground?”

  “You saw what she did,” Gorse replied, angling his ears toward the rabbit hole. “She’s so scrawny she can fit d
own there.”

  At that moment Wind reappeared, puffing as she heaved herself out of the hole with the rabbit in her jaws.

  Gray Wing watched her, fascinated. “Could I go down there?” he asked.

  Wind looked at him, surprised. “If you want,” she replied, dropping the rabbit at Gorse’s paws. “It’s not my home, it’s the rabbit’s.”

  Gray Wing padded over to the burrow’s entrance, passing his tongue over his jaws at the strong scent of rabbit. But the hole looked very small, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to try squeezing into it.

  Behind him, Wind heaved a huge sigh. “I’ll show you how. You’re skinny enough to get anywhere I can.”

  Pushing past Gray Wing, she led the way in. Gray Wing had to follow—otherwise, he would look like a coward in front of these strange cats. He plunged into the hole, his pelt brushing the walls on either side. The burrow was dark and stuffy, and Gray Wing found it harder and harder to put one paw in front of another.

  He was wrestling with panic when he felt Wind struggle to turn in front of him and give him a strong shove down a side tunnel. “That way!” she hissed, following him in the new direction.

  At once, clearer air stirred Gray Wing’s whiskers and he forced himself forward, with the occasional prod from Wind, until he emerged from another hole among the roots of a gorse bush. He staggered into the open and stood with his chest heaving.

  “Mouse-brain!” Wind said, though her voice wasn’t entirely unfriendly. “Don’t do that again. If you panic down there you’ll get lost before you know it.”

  Gray Wing was growing calmer now that he was in the fresh air again, with the huge sky above him and the breeze in his whiskers. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea,” he mewed.

  But he was still fascinated by the knowledge that there was a network of tunnels underneath the moor. A claw-scratch of memory took him back to the elders’ tales of tunnels in their old home by the lake.

  They set some sort of challenge to young cats, who had to find their way out. Gray Wing shivered. I’m glad we don’t do that anymore. I’m not sure my Tribemates would ever see me again.

  Gray Wing dipped his head toward Gorse and Wind. “Thanks for showing me,” he meowed. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

  The two cats bade him a rather wary farewell. Gray Wing was just relieved that this encounter with them hadn’t been hostile.

  Changing his mind about visiting the river, Gray Wing headed back to the hollow. As he approached it, he met Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots.

  “We’re going to look for herbs,” said Dappled Pelt. “Do you want to come with us?”

  “I wish you would,” Cloud Spots added. “Tall Shadow says she doesn’t like cats going off the moor in groups smaller than three.”

  Dappled Pelt let out an irritable snort. “She’s just making a fuss.”

  “Maybe,” Cloud Spots responded, “but it’ll be useful to have an extra mouth to carry whatever we can forage.”

  Gray Wing was happy to turn back and join them as they headed down the slope toward the river. “I met those two cats again—Gorse and Wind,” he mewed. “Wind actually hunts rabbits underground!”

  Dappled Pelt blinked in surprise. “I’d like to see that!”

  Cloud Spots led the way to where the river emerged from the gorge. Sunlight shimmered on its surface. After several dry days, the water was calmer. Gray Wing waited, enjoying the warmth, while Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt foraged among the lush vegetation at the water’s edge.

  “Look!” Cloud Spots exclaimed. “There are huge clumps of comfrey here.”

  “And yarrow!” Dappled Pelt’s waving tail was all that was visible of her above the thickly growing plants. A moment later she emerged with a bunch of herbs in her jaws and set them down beside Gray Wing. “It’s good to know that what we need is close by, and so early in the warm season,” she meowed.

  “Back in the mountains, we could spend a whole day searching in the bottom of the valley,” Cloud Spots agreed. “And even then, we’d never find as much as this.”

  Together he and Dappled Pelt began to make a pile of useful leaves and roots at the edge of the river. Gray Wing kept watch in case any of the forest cats appeared, but everything was quiet.

  When they had almost as much as they could carry, Dappled Pelt halted, tasting the air and gazing across the river to the far bank. “I can smell tansy over there,” she announced. “Jackdaw’s Cry wrenched his leg practicing his leaps, and tansy is really good for that.”

  “There are stepping-stones farther downstream,” Gray Wing told her.

  Dappled Pelt studied the river for a moment. “It doesn’t look too deep,” she mewed. Before Gray Wing realized what she meant to do, she began to wade out into the water. “If Falling Feather can do it, so can I!”

  Gray Wing and Cloud Spots exchanged alarmed glances, then watched Dappled Pelt as she splashed forward, gasping as the cold water reached her belly fur. A heartbeat later she vanished without warning, the river swirling over her head.

  “Haredung!” Cloud Spots exclaimed, bounding to the water’s edge. “I’d better go in and save her.”

  But before he could plunge into the current, Dappled Pelt’s head broke the surface. She was splashing frantically, somehow managing to propel herself toward the far bank.

  “Hey, I’m swimming!” she called, surprise and triumph in her tone.

  “It’s not natural,” Cloud Spots grunted. “You look like a furry fish.”

  Dappled Pelt scrambled out of the water, shook herself, and plunged into the undergrowth. Moments later she reappeared with a bunch of leaves in her jaws. Wading into the river she swam back, her head held awkwardly high to keep the leaves out of the water.

  “See!” she gasped as she clambered up the bank. “It was easy—but oh, that water is cold!”

  “I think you’re mousebrained,” Cloud Spots muttered, shaking his head. “Let’s get back to the hollow.”

  “Why not stay and catch fish?” Dappled Pelt suggested.

  Cloud Spots rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think about it. You’re going straight back to the hollow to dry out, before you get sick.”

  Dappled Pelt gave in with an exasperated snort, and the three cats headed back toward the moor. Gray Wing, a pace or two behind the others, heard voices from the other side of a clump of ferns. His fur bristled with suspicion.

  Have Wind and Gorse doubled back to spy on us?

  But when he crept through the ferns he found Turtle Tail and Bumble crouching side by side, sharing a plump vole.

  Bumble was the first to spot him. “Hello, Gray Wing,” she greeted him, sounding pleased to see him.

  Turtle Tail sprang to her paws. “Oh . . . hi,” she meowed. “Bumble saw me catch this vole, and she wanted to know what it tasted like.”

  Gray Wing wondered why Turtle Tail sounded so defensive. He was wary of strange cats, but he couldn’t see anything threatening about this kittypet.

  “She obviously likes it,” he responded, setting down his bundle of herbs as Bumble tucked in again. “Bumble, why don’t you come live in the forest all the time?”

  Bumble looked up, choking on a mouthful of vole. “No way! My housefolk are kind and I never go hungry. The den is nice, too,” she added. “You should come see it!”

  “No, thanks,” Gray Wing told her. “We don’t belong with Twolegs.”

  “What about you, Turtle Tail?” Bumble asked.

  Turtle Tail’s whiskers twitched with curiosity. “It might be interesting to see it . . . but not right now.”

  Swallowing the last mouthful of prey, Bumble meowed, “Thanks, Turtle Tail. Let’s meet up again soon.”

  “Okay,” Turtle Tail agreed. “I’ll keep a lookout for you in the hollow with the oak trees.”

  Bumble padded off through the ferns, her tail held high, casting a final glance over her shoulder before she disappeared.

  “You know,” Gray Wing mewed thoughtfully, “it’s not a
good idea to get too friendly with kittypets.”

  Turtle Tail’s neck fur fluffed up. “Why not?”

  Gray Wing couldn’t give her a clear answer. “It bothers me, that’s all,” he replied.

  It’s like I said. We don’t belong with Twolegs.

  Gray Wing lay in his nest under a gorse bush at the bottom of the hollow. The half-moon shed enough light for him to see the top of the slope and beyond it a clear sky glittering with stars. He was warm and full-fed.

  This is a good place, he thought. We can live here.

  Suddenly a dark shape came between him and the stars. Gray Wing narrowed his eyes and made out a sharp snout outlined against the sky. A rank scent drifted to his nose, and he remembered the thin, red-furred creature he had seen soon after they left the Twolegplace. He had smelled the scent in the forest, too, though he’d never seen the animal that left it.

  The dark shape moved, slipping down into the hollow. It was followed by another, and then a third. A terrible awareness of danger swept over Gray Wing. He sprang to his paws.

  “Attack!” he screeched.

  The dreadful squeal of a cat in pain drowned out his warning. In the next heartbeat the hollow erupted into yowling and thrashing. Gray Wing stared around in panic, his paws frozen to the ground. He caught a glimpse of one of the creatures with his fangs sunk deep in Shattered Ice’s shoulder, shaking the silver-furred tom as if he was a piece of prey.

  We are prey, Gray Wing realized with a thrill of horror. We’ll all be killed!

  Gray Wing’s first instinct was to throw himself into the battle. But he knew how that would end; he would be torn to pieces. I can’t just leave the others! There must be some way I can help.

  Turtle Tail appeared at his side. “Foxes!” she gasped.

  “What?”

  “Foxes—that’s what these things are. Bumble warned me about them. What are we going to do?”