“All cats have a choice,” Shaded Moss countered. “A cat who follows only one path, never stopping to question where it leads, is as dumb as the prey she hunts.”
Fircone’s spirit shimmered closer, stopping in front of Gorse Fur. “We hunted as rogues,” he purred. “Do you remember?”
“Of course.” Gorse Fur lifted his chin.
Fircone nodded to Wind Runner. “You were always faster than us both.”
Emberkit was still at her paws. “Were you fast?” He stared up at her with round eyes.
“As the breeze,” Wind Runner told him proudly.
“But you’re happy now,” Fircone meowed. “Being part of a group.”
“Yes.” Wind Runner met his gaze. “We are stronger with allies. Our kits are safer.”
Storm purred suddenly. “Have you guessed our message yet?” As Wind Runner gazed blankly back, she turned to River Ripple. “What about you? Do you know?”
River Ripple sat down, curling his tail across his paws. “I think so,” he mewed softly.
Clear Sky watched him closely, frustration pricking in his pelt. How did he know what they didn’t? He was just a rogue!
“The fighting must end,” River Ripple mewed. “It has torn us apart and—”
Clear Sky thrust his muzzle toward him. “How dare you come here, acting like one of us? This has nothing to do with you. You don’t belong!”
Storm jerked around and glared at him.
Clear Sky stiffened, shocked at the fury burning in her gaze.
“Stop arguing!” she spat. “For once in your life, stop telling every cat who belongs and who doesn’t. You don’t get to decide!” Her pelt bristled. “Why do you think I left the forest?” Her gaze flashed toward Gray Wing. “You came here from the mountains and brought nothing but death. This is your chance to make amends. All of you!”
Clear Sky shifted his paws. Shame washed over him. She was right. If they’d stayed in the mountains they’d have starved. But the rogues that had died here today would still be alive. Storm would still be alive. As his thoughts began to whirl, shadows swept the clearing. Clear Sky looked up. Between the rustling branches of the oak, he saw a cloud cross the moon. Beside it, bright light flared.
A falling star!
It streaked across the crow-black night.
Hope flashed through Clear Sky’s pelt. He glanced at Gray Wing. His brother’s eyes were glowing, fixed on the falling star. Thunder was watching it too.
“It’s a sign.” Cloud Spots lifted his tail as he watched its glittering trail.
“You all live under the same stars,” Storm mewed.
Fircone tipped his head. “And a single moon shines onto all your nests.”
Shaded Moss gazed fondly at Tall Shadow. “We came to tell you only one thing,” he purred. “Unite or die.”
“Don’t let these deaths be wasted,” Storm added. “This must never happen again.”
Clear Sky gazed deep into her eyes. His heart ached with understanding. “We’ll unite,” he promised. “From now on, we live as one.”
Thunder whipped around, staring at his father. “How? Gray Wing could never live beneath trees. And you hate the moor. It’s impossible.”
“You’ll find a way.” Storm headed toward the slope, her shimmering fur fading as she neared it.
Fircone’s spirit returned to his body and curled down into it as though returning to his nest.
Rainswept Flower dipped her head to Tall Shadow. “Unite or die,” she breathed.
One by one, the spirit-cats began to pad away.
Wind Runner’s eyes glistened with sadness as Emberkit trotted after Turtle Tail.
“Good-bye, Gray Wing,” Turtle Tail called fondly over her shoulder as she disappeared into the ferns, Emberkit at her heels.
Grief ripped through Clear Sky. He could see the ferns through Storm’s vanishing pelt. “Don’t go…”
She glanced back at him, her gaze growing pale. “Return to the four trees next full moon,” she told him. “Be ready.”
Clear Sky swallowed. For what?
A breeze swept through the hollow and, like mist, the spirit-cats disappeared.
Clear Sky drew in a deep breath, the tang of blood bathing his tongue once more. He blinked at the dead bodies, lying as still as stones, in the clearing. The wind ruffled his fur as it strengthened, and he wrinkled his nose as he smelled rain. The cloud that had covered the moon was thickening, rolling in from the moor.
As the first drop of rain touched his pelt, he watched Gray Wing weave his way between the bodies. Tall Shadow followed him, her tail drooping as her gaze slid mournfully over her fallen camp mates.
Uncertainty suddenly pricked in Clear Sky’s paws. “What did we just see?” he called.
Gray Wing turned to look at him. “I’m… not sure.”
Rain began to thrum the hard earth.
River Ripple padded to the great rock and settled in its shadow, flattening his ears against the squall. “Did the dead walk among you in the mountains?”
Tall Shadow shook her head. “Stoneteller shared with our ancestors. We never saw them.”
“Perhaps you never needed to,” River Ripple murmured.
“Because you never died like this before.” Thunder padded heavily to Hawk Swoop’s body and, nudging it with his nose, moved her so that she looked as though she were curled asleep. Gently, he lifted her tail and draped it over her muzzle. Then he settled beside her and, as the rain drenched his pelt, pressed his flank to hers.
“What do we do now?” Clear Sky called through the downpour.
“I don’t know.” Wind Runner nodded toward the bodies as the rain washed the blood from their pelts. “Whatever we decide, we have been given hope. We know that we can make a better future than this.”
“We can.” Tall Shadow shook out her sodden fur. “But first, we must bury the dead.”
Bonus Scene
Prologue
Wind glanced across the river toward the reed marshes and licked her lips. “Are you sure we couldn’t share some of those cats’ fresh-kill?”
Her companion, Branch, bristled. “You want to eat fish?”
“I’m so hungry I’d eat anything.” The sharp breeze whipping across the moor sliced through Wind’s fur. Snow clouds were piling at the moortop. Flakes whisked around her. Soon they would thicken and swallow the whole hillside, then wrap the forest in white.
“Don’t you trust me to find us food?” Branch huffed.
“We’ve been hunting all day.” Wind’s belly ached with hunger. The sudden chill had driven the moor prey underground. The group of cats who lived near the river had said that they had hunted fish before the river froze. But Branch had refused their kind offer to share their prey.
Even the sour taste of fish would be better than an empty belly, Wind thought.
“Come on.” Branch stalked across the grass, his mottled tabby pelt rippling as snowflakes caught in his fur. Wind knew that it wasn’t only the snow that was ruffling his pelt; she’d upset him. Branch had looked after her since her mother and sister had died of sickness in the last cold season. She knew that he felt responsible for her. He wanted to be the only one who hunted for her; why else would he have refused the fish?
Guiltily, she hurried after him. She and Branch would hunt together and make camp together. Perhaps, one day, they would even have kits together. He will always take care of me. Her heart felt warmed by the thought.
As she fell into step beside him, an ugly scent touched her nose. “Wait!” She stopped. “I smell dog.”