“You don’t understand what it was like!” Clear Sky felt the words rise from his throat like the pitiful wail of a kit. “We were in a strange land where the rules of living were very different from what they’d been in the mountains. We had no Stoneteller to advise us. I thought I was doing the right thing!”
“To turn on your kin and your Tribemates?” Quiet Rain snarled. “To slay them?”
Clear Sky leaned close to his mother. “I made a mistake,” he groaned desperately. “You have to forgive me. You’re my mother.”
Pain sliced his nose as Quiet Rain lashed his muzzle with her paw. He ducked away, staring in disbelief at her. This was the cat who had suckled him at her belly; she had watched him bring back his first prey to the cave with eyes shining with pride. Now she stared at him with cold eyes.
“I’m sorry.” The words choked in his throat.
“You are no kit of mine.” Quiet Rain curled her lip. “Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.”
Clear Sky blinked at her, hoping for a heartbeat that she would hear her own words and realize how cruel she was being. “Forgive me,” he breathed.
“Never.” Her eyes were round with rage.
Clear Sky turned and fled from the den, shocked as snowflakes whipped his muzzle. He squinted through the whiteness, his gaze blurring with grief.
Star Flower’s scent bathed his bleeding nose. Her amber eyes shone through the storm, their irises glittering like stars.
He blinked at her, numb with shock.
“Come with me,” she murmured gently.
Clear Sky was vaguely aware of Gray Wing and Jagged Peak watching him from the clearing.
Tall Shadow was no more than a shape in the swirling snow.
“There’s a hollow in the brambles over here,” Star Flower soothed. “We can rest there until the morning.”
“I want to go home,” he mumbled.
“We must stay.”
Clear Sky felt her warm flank against his and let her guide him across the snow.
As they neared the brambles, she nudged him softly. “Wait here.”
He stared blankly as she hollowed snow from beside the prickly camp wall, digging a den in the shelter of its stems. When she’d finished, she hopped from the shallow dip and nosed him forward.
“We’ll be warm in here.”
His paws scuffed over the snow and slid into the earthen hollow.
Star Flower slipped in beside him. “Lie down.”
He dropped to his belly, his paws buckling, and she curled around him, wrapping her tail over him as though he were a kit. Her gentle purr throbbed against his trembling flank; her warmth slowly seeped through his pelt. Like snow melting, his thoughts cleared. “Am I a monster?” he whispered hoarsely.
“No.” Star Flower’s whisper was firm. “You’re a hero and a leader. You make the tough decisions that other cats fear. There is no shame in that.”
His heart ached, and he pressed hard against Star Flower. He felt her tongue lapping his cheek.
Closing his eyes, he let the warmth of her lull him into sleep.
I hope that she is right…
Chapter 19
Thunder blinked open his eyes, surprised to find himself waking in Tall Shadow’s camp. Early rays of sunshine sliced through the canopy. Hushed mews sounded around the clearing. I sent Lightning Tail home. The memory flooded back. Last night, he’d watched Gray Wing and Jagged Peak emerge, shaken and wide-eyed, from their mother’s den and had changed his mind about leaving. Clear Sky and Quiet Rain did not feel like his kin, but Gray Wing and Jagged Peak did. If Quiet Rain was to die, he could not let them mourn alone.
She can’t die. Not after such a long journey to see her sons. It wouldn’t be fair.
He had sent Lightning Tail back to their camp, worried about leaving Leaf and the others alone too long in a territory they hadn’t yet fully explored. Who knew what might be lurking between the trees there?
He heaved himself to his paws, stiff from sleeping beneath a frosty bramble, and shook out his fur.
The snow had stopped, but thick drifts banked one side of the camp, and the clearing glittered white.
He recognized Clear Sky’s fur half-hidden in a nest dug beneath the camp wall. Star Flower’s golden pelt glowed beside his father’s. The pair was still sleeping. A pang of jealousy pricked his belly, but he pushed it away. Star Flower had made her choice.
“Thunder!” Eagle Feather’s excited mew rang from Holly’s den. His small face peeked out.
“We’re going to make snow tunnels. Do you want to help?”
Dew Nose pushed past her brother and plunged into the snow. Then she bobbed up again and struggled toward him.
“I’m too big for snow tunnels!” Thunder called out.
Storm Pelt scrambled from the den and followed Eagle Feather as he chased his sister. “You could pretend to be a fox and try to dig us out!”
Thunder purred, then glanced guiltily toward Pebble Heart’s den. There was a sick cat in the camp—perhaps he should tell the kits to be quiet.
Eagle Feather reached him and shook snow from his whiskers. “I’ll start tunneling. You try to find me.” He dived into a deep drift and disappeared.
“Give us time to hide!” Dew Nose called, scooting deep into the snow after her brother.
“Wait for me!” Storm Pelt scrambled after them.
The camp entrance rattled, and snow showered from the brambles around it. Thunder turned to see Jagged Peak pad into camp, a wren in his jaws. He crossed the clearing and dropped it outside
Pebble Heart’s den, then headed for his own. Wasn’t he going to go inside and check on his mother?
Thunder was momentarily distracted by muffled purrs from beneath the snow. He thought he should pull the kits out before they froze. Stepping toward the sound, he pricked his ears. He could hear Dew Nose whispering.
“Stay still or he’ll guess where we are.”
His whiskers twitched with amusement. Plunging his muzzle into the snow, he grabbed the first scruff he felt and plucked Storm Pelt out.
The kit swung into the air, spraying snow.
Jagged Peak halted, his eyes widening as he saw Thunder. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
Thunder dropped Storm Pelt into a shallow patch. “The kits are tunneling.”
Jagged Peak bounded across the clearing. “They’ll freeze! Or drown! Or both!” He began digging through the snow with his paws.
“Ow!” Dew Nose squealed as he unearthed her.
Eagle Feather struggled to the surface, his head popping out. “What’s wrong?”
Jagged Peak stared at him sternly. “Whose idea was this?”
“Mine.” Eagle Feather stuck his nose in the air. “It’s fun!”
“It’s dangerous.” Jagged Peak swished his tail with annoyance. “Stay out of the deep snow and find something useful to do.”
“It’s not fair. We were only playing!” Eagle Feather struggled to the surface and padded away, his indignant swagger spoiled as every paw step plunged deeper into the snow.
Dew Nose bobbed after him. “Let’s think up another game.”
“We could practice hunting!” Storm Pelt followed.
Jagged Peak eyed Thunder sternly.
“I was watching them,” Thunder told him.
Jagged Peak frowned. “Sometimes you have to say no.”
Thunder felt a prickle of resentment. He’d been rescuing the kits! But he dropped his gaze and shrugged. “I guess.” Jagged Peak had a lot to worry about. It wasn’t surprising his temper was short these days.
The kits had crossed the clearing and stopped near Tall Shadow. The camp leader was gazing apologetically at Mouse Ear and Mud Paws. “Will you go hunting again today?” she asked them. “I know you hunted for everyone yesterday, but the others are”—her gaze flicked to Pebble Heart’s den—“distracted right now.”