He peered through the leaves.
Clear Sky was padding toward his cats. “Why are you even listening to a cat who only left the mountains because he was following his littermate? He was born to follow. I was born to lead!”
Thunder growled. Arrogant fox-heart!
He crept along the ancient branch, the bark rough beneath his pads. It thickened as he neared the trunk. He paused at the crook, relieved to see another branch jutting half a tail-length away. He leaped onto it, following the branches around the wide trunk like crossing stones in a river. Before he knew it, he was balancing on the branch that stretched toward the slope. He padded along it, his heart pounding, hoping that the leaves would conceal him. As he neared the end, his paws spilled over the sides of the branch—it was growing thinner. He unsheathed his claws, curling them into the thick bark as it quivered beneath his weight. He dropped to his belly and slithered forward. Gazing down, he saw the slope several tail-lengths below. Could he risk jumping down yet? He pulled himself farther along the fast-thinning branch. Suddenly, it dipped. His chest tightened in terror. I’m too heavy! With a crack, it snapped, sending him hurtling him toward the ground. He twisted clumsily, sucking in a yowl of alarm, and landed with a thump on his side.
Am I hurt? Fear pulsed through him as he lay winded, checking for pain. Nothing. Just the dull shock of landing. He drew in a shuddering breath.
“Where’s Thunder?” Clear Sky’s alarmed mew sounded from the clearing.
“He’s gone!”
“Where is he?”
He glanced down into the clearing. The forest cats were scanning the hollow, ears pricked.
Thunder leaped to his paws and raced uphill.
“He’s heading for the moor!” Nettle’s cry ripped through the night air.
Thunder ran harder, cresting the top of the slope, and hared onto the moor. Angry yowls rose from the hollow. He tore over the grass. Glancing back, he saw two shapes appear at the hollow’s rim. The moonlight glinted off sleek pelts. Snake and Petal. Their eyes flashed as they saw him. More cats loomed behind them.
Panic raging, Thunder fled. He could hear the yowls of the cats behind him as they gave chase. Gulping air, he looked back.
Snake was gaining on him. Small and wiry, the rogue moved fast over the grass. Thunder would never outrun him as far as the camp.
If they catch me, the others are lost! Scanning the moorside, he spotted a dip in the grass. A burrow?
I can use the tunnels!
Gray Wing had shown him the maze beneath the moor when he was younger and told him how to tell a good tunnel from a bad. Would a forest cat dare follow him into the darkness?
I hope not. Chest burning, pelt on end, Thunder skidded to a halt beside the dip and dived into the tunnel.
Earth scraped his flanks, soil crumbled beneath his paws. Scrambling inside, his nose wrinkled at the rank air. As moonlight faded behind him, the tunnel grew damp. Where am I heading? Slick mud walls slid past his pelt. Just keep going! He wasn’t even sure where the tunnel led. You have to save Gray Wing and the others!
How could this have happened? They’d gone to reach an agreement. Instead they faced battle. How could his father have betrayed his own brother? How could he have betrayed me? Rage burned beneath Thunder’s pelt. He growled as he pelted through the darkness. You’ll pay for this, Clear Sky. With blood.
Chapter 19
Never follow stale air.
The words carried back to him from his kithood, when Gray Wing had begun to teach him the tunnels beneath the moor.
Distant yowls echoed along the tunnel behind.
“You moor cats aren’t cats! You’re worms!”
“Come out and fight, you mouseheart!”
Snake and Petal were calling into the darkness. At least they hadn’t followed.
Thunder picked up his pace, ignoring the musty, cold air of the tunnel, and the endless ache in his paws. He had to get back to camp. There was no turning back.
His heart lurched, as the ground sloped down steeply beneath his paws. Only follow a downward slope if you can retrace your steps.
“Sorry, Gray Wing,” Thunder muttered under his breath. There was no way he could follow the older cat’s advice now.
“We’ll guard the entrance.” Snake’s growl echoed along tunnel behind. “If he comes back out, we’ll get him!”
Thunder swallowed, hoping he was heading in the right direction. The camp must be this way. The tunnel hadn’t curved since he entered it. His forepaws slipped as the slope suddenly sharpened. What if it just keeps going deeper? No. It can’t, he told himself. It must lead somewhere. As he calmed himself, the slope flattened and began to widen. Hope sparked in his chest. He slowed to a trot. The tunnel was straighter than crow-flight. It’ll take me to the camp. As he began to imagine bursting out beside the hollow, the air changed.
Thunder halted. Damp scents bathed his tongue. Blind in the darkness, Thunder reached forward with his muzzle. His nose touched earth. A dead end? It couldn’t be. The damp smell must be coming from somewhere. And there was only stale air behind. He reached forward with one forepaw. It flapped in thin air. So did his other. He frowned, puzzled. His nose touched earth, yet each paw reached into empty space. The tunnel must split into two! Which way do I choose? Heart pounding, Thunder sniffed first this way, then that.
One tunnel smelled dry and musty, the other damp and fresh.
Could it be dew? If he could smell dew, there must be grass and sky and air. Thunder headed along the damp tunnel. His paws pattered over mud. Hope flashed fresh with every paw step. The trail must start to rise soon.
His whiskers brushed close to earth on one side. The tunnel was curving. Was it leading away from camp? He followed the bend, anxiety curling in his belly. Have I gone the wrong way? The curve tightened. Thunder slowed. Should I go back? Uncertainty weighted his paws. Gray Wing’s depending on me. Suddenly the tunnel turned back on itself. Now where? Disoriented, Thunder pressed on.
He could picture Gray Wing, Jackdaw’s Cry, and Tall Shadow on the rock. What if Clear Sky’s cats attacked? If enough of them climbed the ledge together, they might be able to push the moor cats back and overrun their sanctuary. Breath quickening, Thunder broke into a run, pulling up again as he felt the tunnel narrow around him. Within paw steps, it was pressing on his spine, then his flanks, until he was hauling himself through a narrow gap, earth dragging against his belly.
I should have taken the other tunnel. Fear crawled beneath his pelt. But the damp fresh scent of dew still bathed his muzzle. This tunnel must lead out onto the moor. Once he was in the open, he would be able to find his way back to camp. He dragged himself forward, relief flooding his fur as the space opened out, feeling like a great weight being lifted off his back.
He scrambled to his paws and raced onward, mouth open, hoping to smell a familiar scent. Had he been in this tunnel before?