Pebbleshine shivered. “I’m right here,” she mewed. “I wouldn’t leave them.”
The gray she-cat glanced around, and for a heartbeat Pebbleshine thought she might have heard. But the she-cat’s gaze swept right over her. “Their eyes aren’t even open yet,” she continued. “They can only be a few days old.”
“And they’re so thin,” the tom added. “I can tell they haven’t eaten in a while.”
“I’ll go and look for their mother.” The gray she-cat bounded off along the tunnel and out the entrance at the far end. Pebbleshine could hear her calling outside.
Once she was gone, the ginger tom bent over the two kits and examined them more closely, letting his paws run over their tiny bodies and bending his head to give them a thorough sniff. His paws were gentle and seemed to move with sure knowledge.
He’s too young to be a medicine cat, Pebbleshine thought. But he seems experienced… . Maybe he’s a medicine-cat apprentice.
Eventually the tom straightened up. “Hey, Needlepaw!” he yowled. “Forget their mother for now. These kits need to eat. Catch something, right away!”
Thank StarClan! Pebbleshine was relieved that the young cat was intelligent enough to see what her kits needed and take care of them at once. There had been authority in his voice as he called out to his friend. My kits need another she-cat to nurse them, but they can’t have that until they reach the Clans. Some chewed-up prey will keep them going until then. Maybe everything will be all right.
Pebbleshine padded past the tom and curled herself around her kits in their nest. Though she knew they couldn’t feel or scent her, they seemed to sense her presence in some way, because they stopped wailing and settled down. Pebbleshine bent her head and nuzzled them gently.
If only Hawkwing were here to keep you warm …
Beneath her anxiety about her kits, Puddleshine’s heart ached at the thought that she would never return to him, never be close to him again, never share tongues with him or feel the warmth of his fur.
Even now she could picture Hawkwing still near the monster camp, vainly waiting for her to return with their kits, or frantically searching wide stretches of territory, through Twolegplaces and along Thunderpaths, still hoping that he might find her.
She had always believed that she and Hawkwing would grow old together, proudly watching their kits grow up and raise kits of their own. Now she had to let go of that dream, or part of it, anyway. She would never again be with Hawkwing in the way that she wanted to, but nothing would stop her from watching over her newborns. She remembered what Micah had said, that she wasn’t following the path of her warrior ancestors … no, she was striking out on her own path, just as she had on the journey that began with the chicken monster. But now, as then, she knew she was on the right path: close to her kits, and close to these two young cats who must be deeply connected to her destiny and the destiny of her Clan.
I may never see my former home again. I’ll never live at the gorge, and I’ll never sleep surrounded by my Clanmates, she thought. And yet … I am home. This is my home now—wherever they are.
“I’m right here,” she whispered again to her kits. “I promise, I’ll stay with you.”
Dedication
Special thanks to Clarissa Hutton
AllegiancesTHE SISTERSLEADERMOONLIGHT—big, long-haired gray she-catSISTERSSNOW—large white she-cat with blue eyesFURZE—big ginger she-catHAWK—large ginger brown she-cat with golden eyesICE—green-eyed she-catPETAL—mother of StreamSPARROW—young ginger-and-white she-catSUNRISE—big yellow she-catTEMPEST—big tabby she-catHAZE—pale gray she-catTOMSEARTH—yellow tomSNAIL—gray tomMUD—brown tabby tomSTREAM—tabby tom with blue eyes
Chapter 1
Earth squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to become one with the grass. Breathing slowly, he tried to center himself in just the way his mother, Moonlight, had told him, so he would be able to sense the world around him clearly. This shouldn’t be so hard, he thought.
His ear itched. Earth scratched at it impatiently with his six-toed paw. His stomach growled, and he pushed away thoughts about how long it had been since dawn, when he’d last eaten prey. Focus, he told himself sternly, remembering Moonlight’s instructions. Be one with the grass, with the land beneath your paws. Could he feel what it was like to have tiny roots stretching through the soil? He concentrated. Can I hear the grass speaking to me?
No, I can’t. His ear was still itchy, and now his nose itched, too. Earth sneezed and opened his eyes.
Next to him, his friend Stream was shifting around restlessly, his eyes half closed.
“I can’t concentrate,” Earth complained. “I’m hungry.”
Stream flicked his tabby tail, opening his eyes wider to look at Earth. “I can’t concentrate either,” he confessed, then added, “It’s probably because your fur’s as bright yellow as the sun… . I can’t see!” He squinted exaggeratedly at Earth until, with a purr of laughter, Earth leaped onto his back, knocking him over.
The two kits rolled in the grass, aiming playful swipes at each other. At last, Stream wrestled Earth onto his back and Earth kicked up with his hind legs, pushing the tabby kit off and ending the play fight.
“You’re pretty strong for your size,” Stream observed, getting to his feet and shaking the dirt from his fur.
Earth scowled at him. “I’m not small,” he meowed. “I’m just … smaller than most of the Sisters.”
He was uncomfortably aware that, even though he was four moons old, just like Stream, he was significantly smaller than both the long-legged tabby tom and Earth’s own littermates. My father, whoever he was, must have been small, Earth thought. He looked down at his bright-furred paws. And yellow.
“You’re right,” Stream meowed apologetically. “You were much bigger than those everkits at the Twopawplace a moon ago, and they said they were already six moons old.”
“I guess,” Earth said. He smoothed his fur with his tongue and sat down beside Stream, gazing out over the valley below them. It was sunny and warm, with dandelions and buttercups growing here and there among the grass. He could scent prey, and the familiar smell of the Sisters. Further downhill, near the low, thick bush that was the nursery, he saw his mother, Moonlight, talking seriously with two of the other Sisters. One of them—Stream’s mother, Petal—nodded obediently in response to something Moonlight said, then trotted away.
Earth sighed. He wished that Moonlight would take more time to instruct him and Stream on how they were supposed to use meditation to speak to the grass and the soil below them. Maybe if she’d told them exactly what those things sounded like, he’d know how to hear them. But she was always so busy. It’s a big responsibility, leading the Sisters, he reminded himself.
A soft breeze ruffled his fur, and he took a deep breath, scenting cedar and pine from the woods beyond the valley and the fresh smell of the river nearby.
“I like it here,” he told Stream. “It’s better than that garden by the Twopawplace.” He and Stream had both been born and lived their first two moons in an overgrown Twopaw garden by a crumbling old stone barn. There had been plenty of shelter there, but the rosebush protecting the nursery had pricked his paws. And every cat had kept scolding the kits to keep quiet and avoid attracting the attention of Twopaws. This wide valley surrounded by grassy hills was better.