by Erin Hunter
The Sun Trail: Bonus Scene
Read on to see how the forest rogues reacted when their territory was invaded by the mountain cats. . . .
The badger drew back, its jaws stained with blood, and let out a snarl at the two kits cowering in front of it. Scraps of fur were still snagged in its blunt claws. After a heartbeat that seemed to last for seasons, it turned and lumbered into the undergrowth. With a final flash of black-and-white fur it vanished, leaving only its overwhelming stench.
Petal threw back her head and lifted her voice in a wordless yowl. She tried to sound threatening, but all she could feel was grief and anguish for the cat who lay sprawled at her paws, her tabby fur torn away and her blood soaking the dead leaves underneath her mangled body.
“Stay away, filthy badger!” Petal’s brother, Fox, stood at her side, his brown fur bristling. “Don’t come back!” Petal could hear the tremor in Fox’s voice and knew that his whole body was shaking as violently as hers.
Like the badger will listen to a couple of kits, she thought. It could have snapped us up in a mouthful.
A chilly breeze blew through the forest, rattling the branches and sending a few more dead leaves to whirl through the air. Petal’s shivers increased as she felt claws of cold sinking through her pelt.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked.
Fox turned to her and touched her ear with his nose. “We’ll have to look after ourselves now,” he replied. “We’ll be fine. We have to be.” He turned his face away from the sight of their mother sprawled on the ground before them.
No, we won’t, Petal thought. She could tell that Fox was trying to sound braver than he felt. We don’t really know how to hunt. Mother never had the chance to finish teaching us.
Looking at Fox—he was strong and compact but still smaller than some of the prey they would need to hunt—she saw how unprepared they both were. What chance do we have, alone in the forest?
She began to claw at the dead leaves, showering them over her mother’s body. After a heartbeat Fox joined her, and the two kits scratched at the debris on the forest floor until their mother was completely covered.
Who will look after us now? Petal wondered as she sat with her brother. Then another thought tore through her. Who will look after our mother? She raised her face to the sky and closed her eyes. It was as though she were drowning; it was hard to breathe. Something that felt as heavy as a stone sat in her chest, where her heart had once been. Will I ever know happiness again?
She opened her eyes, and looked again at the outline of her mother’s dead body beneath the leaves. “Stay safe,” she murmured. “Wherever you are now.”
“Come on,” Fox meowed, cleaning his claws. “We’ll go and hunt.”
He wouldn’t look Petal in the face, and his voice sounded matter-of-fact, but she knew he was only trying to help. We have to survive now, on our own, she thought. He’s doing his best.
Side by side, Petal and Fox padded through the forest. Petal started at every unexpected sound from the undergrowth. She knew that Fox was just as scared, however much he tried to hide it. There was no knowing if that badger would attack again—it knew they were without protection now.
Petal’s belly growled hungrily. She tried to taste the air for signs of prey as their mother had taught them, but she couldn’t pick up any scents. Am I even tasting the air in the right way? she wondered, trying to remember her mother’s lessons.
Fox sniffed around the roots of an oak tree, a spot where their mother had often snapped up a mouse or two, but he found nothing.
“All the prey is snug down their holes,” he grumbled. “How are we expected to catch anything when it’s as cold as this?”
As the sun moved down the sky, Petal began to be afraid that her brother was right. Now and again she spotted a bird perched on a branch above their heads, and once a squirrel whisked up a tree trunk in front of them and vanished into a hole. None of the creatures seemed to be scared of them.
And why should they be? she asked herself. We’re only kits.
A familiar scent drifted past her. She halted, her nose twitching and her whiskers quivering. “Do you smell that?” she breathed out.
Fox sniffed the air. “Cats!” he exclaimed, his yellow eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’re saved! They’ll share their prey with us!”
He took off, scampering through the undergrowth in the direction of the scent. Petal scurried along behind him. A few heartbeats later they broke out into a clearing. Twilight was gathering, but they could still make out three cats curled up together in the shelter of a mossy boulder.
“Hi!” Fox meowed, skidding to a stop in front of them.
Petal halted at Fox’s shoulder, her excitement fading as one of the three—a skinny gray-and-white she-cat—sprang to her paws and faced them with fierce green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her lips drawn back in the beginnings of a snarl.
Petal took a deep breath. She had never seen such a hostile cat. The only cat they had really known was their mother. And she was so kind and gentle, not like this cat at all! “We . . . we’re on our own,” she stammered. “We were hoping for . . . looking for food.” She hoped they wouldn’t be forced to retell the story of their mother’s death—not so soon after . . . She shook herself.
Glancing at Fox, she saw that his fur had started to stand on end, reacting to the other cat’s hostility. Calm yourself! she willed him. They’d come here for help, not a fight.
The she-cat’s green gaze raked over them like a bunch of thorns. “Then you should look elsewhere,” she hissed. She slid out her claws, leaving Petal in no doubt about what would happen to the kits if they disobeyed.
The other two cats said nothing, but their eyes were hard and unsympathetic.
Petal and Fox backed away. “What’s the matter with her?” Fox muttered. “Why doesn’t she want us to stay?”
Petal shook her head. “I don’t know.” The world had become a colder place, even in the few moments since covering their mother’s body with dead leaves.
Petal and Fox turned away from the other cats. Petal tried not to hear the snarls behind them, warning them never to bother these cats again. Her drooping tail brushed the ground as she and her brother trudged on through the forest. The last of the light was fading fast; Petal shivered afresh at the thought of spending the night without their mother’s warm body curled around them.
Then there was a rustling in the undergrowth. “Look!” Fox whispered, pointing with his tail.
Petal gazed in that direction and spotted a squirrel nibbling on a nut at the foot of a nearby beech tree. At once both kits flattened themselves to the ground and began to creep up on it the way that their mother had taught them. Petal’s jaws began to water at the thought of sinking her teeth into the prey.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” a voice growled behind them.
A lightning bolt of shock passed through Petal, and she sat up to see the gray-and-white she-cat standing over her. How did she get here so quickly and silently?
Fox crept on for another paw step, and let out a squeal as the gray-and-white cat cuffed him around the ear.
At the same moment a big tabby tom flashed past them and flung himself on top of the squirrel as it tried to leap to safety up the tree.
“Hey!” Fox protested. “That was our prey!” But all he got was another cuff to the ears.
The gray-and-white she-cat pushed her face close to Fox’s. “All prey around here is ours,” she snarled. “Learn that now, before you get really hurt.”
Petal bristled in anger at the threat. It’s not fair, she thought, as the tabby tom padded past her, the body of the squirrel dangling limply from his jaws. We saw it first! But she was too scared to make her objection aloud.
The two cats melted back into the trees, happy to leave Fox and Petal with nothing to eat. They don’t care that we’re just kits. They’re leaving us to die, Petal thought as she wa
tched them go. We’re truly on our own.
“Come on,” she mewed to Fox, feeling her spine stiffen. “Let’s find somewhere else to hunt. I’m not going to let us starve to death!”
“Why were they so mean?” Fox pleaded, bringing up the rear. All his bravery had melted away.
“It doesn’t matter,” Petal snapped. “We learned a lesson today. From now on it’s just us. Just the two of us . . .”
They walked farther into the forest, as if they could leave all their pain and grief behind them. Petal didn’t care if she never saw another cat again.
Petal and Fox slid through the undergrowth, their senses alert for the smell of prey. Even now, so many moons after the death of their mother, they spent most of their days alone.
Petal stiffened at the scent of squirrel, but a heartbeat later she realized the scent was stale; the squirrel must have passed that way the day before. Then a faint sound just ahead warned her of the approach of prey. Two mice appeared, scuffling along the edge of a bramble thicket.
Petal glanced at Fox, who was padding along at her shoulder, and signaled with her tail for him to stay where he was. With breathless caution, she started to work her way around the two mice, making sure that every paw step was silent and that she didn’t let her shadow fall across the two tiny creatures.
It’s been so long since we ate. . . . We need this prey!
They’d come a long way since their early days as orphaned kits, and had managed to survive alone. Occasionally they joined in a hunt with other cats, but that was rare. Mostly they hunted alone. Petal never let them forget that they had only themselves to rely on.
At last Petal dropped into a crouch beyond the mice and leaped toward them, letting out a snarl, trying to sound as menacing as she could. That gray-and-white she-cat taught me something; I can make myself really scary now!
The mice, panicking, scuttled straight at Fox. He slammed down a paw on one of them, and grabbed the other by the neck with his teeth in one smooth movement.
“Great catch!” Petal exclaimed as she bounded back to his side.
“You sent them straight at me,” Fox meowed, dropping the mouse. “Besides, you could have caught them yourself, you know.”
Petal preferred to hunt like this: setting up the catch but letting her brother make the final kill. Ever since their mother died and the gray-and-white she-cat refused to help them, she had realized they needed to work as a team. I’d be lost without Fox, she thought. Yes, she could have killed the mice on her own—but she preferred working with her brother, and knew that was better for him, too. She remembered how forlorn he’d looked when they’d padded away as hungry kits. It’s important that we work side by side, she thought. It’s all we have.
Aloud she mewed, “We’ve got the mice, so who cares?”
Fox blinked at her affectionately and didn’t push the matter. They settled down and ate their prey in quick, hungry bites.
Petal was swiping her tongue around her jaws, wishing for something a bit more substantial than a mouse, when she heard a loud birdsong. Looking up, she spotted a robin singing on a branch a few tail-lengths away. It puffed out its fat red belly and scanned the area with bright beady eyes.
Typical robin bully, she thought. Making that racket to claim his territory . . .
As she watched, a chaffinch landed on the same tree branch. At once the robin broke off his song and flapped his wings fiercely until the chaffinch hopped backward and took off again.
Petal set her teeth and let out a hissing breath. I hate bullies! And I hate robins! It’s time to show that bird who’s boss. . . .
“You stay here,” she muttered to Fox. “I’ll enjoy killing this one on my own.” Yes, they normally hunted as a team, but this was about more than hunting.
Flattening herself to the ground, Petal sneaked forward until she reached the bottom of the tree. The robin hadn’t noticed her. Petal slipped around to the other side of the trunk and clawed her way upward paw step by paw step.
But as Petal slid onto the robin’s branch her tail brushed against a spray of leaves, making them rustle. The robin let out a loud alarm call and darted away, vanishing among the trees.
“Mouse dung!” Petal exclaimed.
Scrambling down the tree, she headed into the forest after the robin.
“What are you doing?” Fox hissed after her. She shook her head at him quickly, telling him to be quiet.
Soon she reached a hollow and slipped into hiding behind a bush, where she waited for her breathing to calm. Her ears were pricked as she listened carefully.
Just as she had hoped, not many heartbeats passed before she heard the robin’s strident song again. Stupid creature! Now I know exactly where you are! Petal crept toward it, clinging to the shadows to hide her movements. It was perched on another tree branch; luckily, this bark was soft, making it easier for Petal to sink her claws in silently and climb up until she was only a tail-length from the robin.
This time, little bird . . .
Petal was stretching out her claws when a cat’s yowl sounded from somewhere in the forest. The robin launched itself into the air and vanished into a thick stretch of shrubs.
Letting out a snarl of annoyance, Petal let herself drop to the ground. Fox came running up to her as she landed. “Did you hear that?” he asked.
More cat yowls and meows reached their ears as he spoke. Petal signaled with her tail for Fox to follow her as she crept toward the noises. “I don’t recognize those voices. . . .” she murmured. Even though she and Fox kept themselves separate from the rest of the cats in the forest, they knew most of the others by sight and sound.
Using every scrap of undergrowth for cover, Petal and Fox slipped forward until they reached the edge of a wide, shallow dip in the forest floor, and crouched together in the shelter of a holly bush. Gazing into the hollow, they saw several cats, some sitting, others pacing around and examining their surroundings.
“Hey, we do know them!” Fox meowed. “They’re the cats who’ve settled in the clearing with the pool. Don’t you remember?”
A hazy memory took form in Petal’s mind. “That’s right,” she murmured. “They chased us off when we tried to find out what they were doing there.”
Petal’s paws tingled with apprehension. She realized she had seen a few of the cats even before that. “I met some of them another time, too, when I was hunting with Nightheart and Leaf,” she meowed. “That black tom was stalking a squirrel in the forest. I would have left him alone, but Nightheart and Leaf jumped on him. Then his friends came to help him, so I had to get involved, too. That gray tom was there, and the white she-cat.”
“We’d better stay away from them,” Fox grunted. “They’re trouble, sure enough. I hope they’re not thinking of moving in here for good.”
As he was speaking, the gray tom suddenly froze, then swiveled around, staring straight at the holly bush where Fox and Petal were hiding.
“He’s seen us!” Petal meowed. “Run!”
“We have to get away!” Petal panted as she raced along beside her brother. “I’ve been in one fight with those cats. I don’t want another!”
She and Fox pelted as fast as they could through clumps of fern and around bramble thickets. Low branches swiped across their faces.
Petal couldn’t hear any sound of pursuit from the strangers. Maybe they’re not following us . . . but I’m not sticking around to find out!
The two cats were running so hard that neither of them took much notice of where they were going. Then without warning the undergrowth thinned, and they burst out of the trees to find themselves on the bank of the river.
“Mouse dung!” Fox gasped, scrambling to a halt at the very edge of the water. “Another paw step and I’d have fallen in!” Petal knew how much her brother hated water, so she was surprised when he added, “We’ll have to cross. That’ll stop those other cats from chasing us.”
This must be bad, Petal thought, if Fox is willing to cross the water!
Even so, Petal was warmed by her brother’s courage. We can do this together! Glancing around, she spotted a series of stepping-stones leading across to the other bank. Water was washing their surface, but even if they were slippery, they were a better option than swimming.
“Over here!” she mewed, darting toward them.
Fox followed her, with a glance toward the edge of the trees. None of the strange cats had appeared yet, but Petal could hear yowls of pursuit and knew they had only heartbeats to make their escape.
She leaped onto the first stone, flinching at the chill of river water on her paws. I might not be the best hunter, but I can do this. . . .
Petal could hear splashing that told her Fox was following her. She leaped from rock to rock until she reached the middle of the river, the strong current surging all around her. We’re going to make it, she thought, pushing off in a powerful leap to the next stone.
But as Petal’s paws landed, the rock lurched under her and she felt herself sliding into the river. Water slopped onto her belly fur. With a screech of alarm she clawed frantically at the slippery surface, and managed to stop herself a mouse-length before the river engulfed her.
She could hear Fox yowling in distress behind her.
“I’m okay!” she gasped out. I didn’t survive that badger to drown now!
Another cat voice rose over Fox’s, calling out a greeting. Petal let out a hiss of fear and anger as she turned awkwardly on the sloping surface of the rock so that she could look back at the bank.
The gray tom and the white she-cat stood watching at the water’s edge. “Come back!” the gray tom called. “We won’t harm you.”
Like I believe that! Petal thought. But she knew that she and Fox had no real choice. Trying to cross the river was becoming too dangerous.
“It’s no good!” she yowled to Fox. “We’ll have to go back.”
Carefully they began to make their way to the bank. Petal found that her legs were shaking with tension; with every jump her mind revisited the dreadful moment when the rock had tipped under her paws.