He hadn’t met any rogues, and no ancestor spirits had come to guide him. At this point, he was so tired of being lonely that he almost would have welcomed either one.
I should be able to see spirits, Earth thought, shifting on his haunches. A ball of resentment burned hotter and hotter inside him. If the Sisters hadn’t sent him away so early, he would be able to see them. And he wouldn’t be afraid, not if he were ready to see spirits, ready to be on his own.
Why did Moonlight have to stick so closely to tradition? She’d told him of one tom she knew who had been unlucky. What proof was that? She wouldn’t have sent Ice or Sunrise away because of one thing that had happened in the distant past. Why did the rules have to be different for toms?
Earth huffed and glared at the darkening forest around him. Everything had changed because Stream had died. And now he couldn’t even see his friend’s spirit, because Moonlight had made him wander before he had learned to see ghosts.
There was another crackle in the branches above him, and Earth flinched. If only Stream were with me …
Maybe he should try again. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see Stream’s spirit badly enough back in camp, because he’d been too scared. But now …
Earth looked around at the empty forest. “Stream,” he called. What had Moonlight said, when she’d called to the spirits? He thought back, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Stream, if you’d like to visit me, I’d be glad to speak to you again.” That didn’t seem like enough. “Stream,” he went on, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to die. That was such a terrible storm, but I thought we would make it through together. But I lived and you died. I wish that hadn’t happened.”
The wind blew through the branches again. A pinecone, caught by the sudden gust, rolled past Earth’s den. It reminded him of batting pinecones all over camp with Stream, Sunrise, Ice, and Haze. “I miss you,” he added, his meow hoarse. “I’m so sorry you’re dead, and if you want to come and keep me company, or just say hello, I’d really like that.”
Earth waited, eyes wide and ears pricked for any sign of Stream. But silence spread through his little section of woods. He couldn’t even hear the wind blowing anymore. He listened tensely, expecting something to happen any moment.
Something moved in the tree over his head and Earth looked up, his heart pounding hard.
Only a squirrel. Too high to chase, the squirrel ran across its branch and leaped to another tree, farther away from Earth.
Earth dropped his head onto his paws. He couldn’t do it. He would never meet an ancestor spirit, never see Stream again.
Or …
What if the wind crackling through the pines or the cone rolling past his den had been sent by Stream? Signs from his friend that he wasn’t really gone?
Earth’s pelt prickled with excitement as he pushed away his feelings of failure. Maybe I just communicate with the spirits differently than the Sisters do, he thought. After all, who said ghosts appeared the same way to all cats?
He listened again, harder, and squinted his eyes to peer into the darkness, hoping to see that pinecone again. “Stream, send me a sign,” he whispered.
But nothing happened.
His hope dwindling, Earth sighed and, ducking his head, crawled into the makeshift den he’d made beneath the bracken. He needed to sleep if he was going to be able to hunt again tomorrow. Maybe he’d be able to reach Stream another day. If the Sisters were right, he would.
Maybe.
The next morning, Earth padded through the undergrowth on the other side of the Sisters’ old camp, his mouth open to taste the air. There was a rustling in the bushes, and he caught the scent of a vole. Tensing, he lowered his belly close to the ground and began to slink forward, listening for the quick beat of the vole’s heart.
Wait. Catching a new scent, Earth straightened up abruptly, no longer interested in the vole. Those are cats. He glanced around warily, thinking of rogues, before he realized how familiar the scents were and sniffed harder.
Sunrise. Furze. Hawk. Tempest. Moonlight. Ice. Earth’s chest ached. He’d found the scents the Sisters had left as they’d moved camp. It had been several days, but it hadn’t rained in that time, and their trail was still clear.
They headed toward the hill, Earth thought, nose to the ground. He’d known that, of course; he’d seen them leave. Following the trail, Earth headed uphill. At the top, he could tell they’d stopped for a little while. They must have been letting Ice rest, he thought. Yes, there was a spot where her scent was stronger. She had probably lain down here, he thought, sniffing. But then they’d continued downhill, Ice walking near the center of the group. At least she was strong enough to keep going. He went on, tracking the scent.
The sun had passed its midpoint when Earth finally admitted to himself: I’m following them, and I’m going to find them.
He knew it was a terrible idea. If he caught up with the Sisters, they might be angry. They might even attack him. They sent me away on my wander. Toms aren’t supposed to be with the Sisters once they’re grown-up.
But he wasn’t grown-up, was he? Moonlight had been so stubborn, she hadn’t been able to admit that he wasn’t ready to be on his own.
Now he’d tried living alone for a while, and it had been awful. He was scared all the time, and cold, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go far from familiar territory. He was so lonely. Maybe if he talked to Moonlight now, she’d see the truth. He couldn’t see any spirits, so he had no cat to guide him—he must need more training. Maybe he’d be able to convince them to take him back, just for a little while. Surely, they’d missed him. They were his kin.
And he really, really wanted to see them all again.
He kept walking, following the Sisters’ scent.
There was growling in the distance and, as Earth got closer, the sharp smell of monsters. A Thunderpath. The Sisters’ scent trail was leading straight toward it.
As he came out of the undergrowth onto the short grass at the side of the Thunderpath, Earth’s stomach sank in dismay. Monsters sped by as if they were chasing one another, growling steadily, their blank eyes passing over him as they went around a curve. He’d never seen so many monsters at once before. Their foul smell was chokingly thick, and Earth crouched closer to the ground, breathing hard, hoping the monsters were too focused on one another to notice him.
He sniffed the ground carefully. Maybe Moonlight had turned and led the Sisters away from this terrible place. It was hard to make out the Sisters’ scent among the thick, foul smells. But when he finally found the trail, it headed straight toward the Thunderpath. His heart sank.
I can do this. Earth gritted his teeth and glared at the monsters. He’d crossed Thunderpaths before, a few times, with the rest of the Sisters. He could do it again.
He had never crossed one so crowded with monsters. But the general idea must be the same. Earth waited for a space between the monsters, trying to remember exactly what Moonlight had done when they’d crossed.
At last there was a moment with no monsters in sight, although he could still hear them growling, not far away.
“Straight ahead, as fast as you can,” Earth muttered. “Don’t stop for anything.” That was what Moonlight had told them. Ears flattened, body low to the ground, Earth began to run.