Wind backed away. It had been so long since she’d shared prey with any cat, she felt more comfortable eating alone. “No, thanks.”
Willow looked up from the rabbit. “Why not?”
Frog was already tugging at its fur with his small, sharp teeth.
“I’m a loner,” Wind told the kit. “I don’t share.”
Tansy blinked at her. “But you shared this prey with us.”
“I gave it to you.” Wind turned away. She didn’t want to get involved with these cats. If they wanted to live on the moor, they’d have to learn how to survive just as she had.
“Thank you!”
She heard Tansy’s call but didn’t look back, heading back across the slope, her eyes scanning the grass for rabbit tracks.
“That was kind of you.”
A deep mew took her by surprise. She spun, pelt bristling, and saw a gray-striped tom stalking from the heather. His face was lean and handsome.
Wind narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t being kind. Starving cats attract disease.”
The tom glanced at her, but he didn’t comment until thunder rumbled over the moortop. “I hope the rain arrives first.”
Wind was surprised. “First?”
“Before the lightning,” the tom explained. “I’ve seen the moor burn when the heather’s as dry as this.” He glanced back at the bushes, and Wind noticed for the first time that the tips of their branches had begun turning brown, as though already scorched. “Lightning will start a fire as easily as a careless Twoleg.”
Wind carried on walking. She didn’t want to waste her time chatting to a stranger—she had prey to find.
Paw steps followed her. “Let me help you catch another rabbit.”
Wind didn’t turn her head as the tom fell in beside her. “I prefer to hunt alone.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
She tried to stop her hackles lifting. Had he been watching her? “Who are you?”
“I’m Gorse.” The tom’s mew was friendly. “My mother must have known I’d end up living on the moor when she named me.” A purr rumbled in his throat.
“Weren’t you born on the moor?” Wind felt a flash of annoyance as she realized Gorse had drawn her into conversation.
“I was raised among the reed beds, beside the river. But I left them a few moons ago. I prefer it up here.” He swished his tail. “Plenty of fresh air and no fish.”
Wind’s whiskers twitched. “Do you hate fish too?”
“I like my prey dry,” Gorse rumbled.
Wind’s belly tightened. What was she doing? Talking to a strange tom! I’m a loner! She curled her claws. “I have to hunt now.”
“You’ll catch something quicker if I help you,” Gorse meowed cheerfully.
“I don’t need help,” she snapped, glaring at him.
Gorse dipped his head. “Okay.” Flicking the tip of his tail, he headed toward the heather. “See you around.”
Wind watched him go, her irritation growing. Not if I see you first!
Movement caught her eye. A lapwing was swooping low over the heather, then across the grass. Clouds of midges swarmed ahead of it. The lapwing cut through them and landed on a tussock. Wind’s tail twitched eagerly as the bird began to root through the coarse grass. A moment later it plucked out an earthworm.
Wind dropped into a hunting crouch and drew herself forward. She kept her tail still, lifting it above the ground so that she moved soundlessly over the grass. The lapwing dipped its beak again, searching for more worms. Wind was only a tail-length away. Another paw step and she could pounce. Her heart pounded harder. Why did Gorse think she needed help? What a mouse-brain! She bunched her hind legs beneath her, preparing to jump.
Lightning flickered at the edge of her vision. A moment later thunder crashed overhead. The lapwing cried in surprise and, unfolding its wings, struggled into the air.
Frustration scorched through Wind. She leaped desperately, catching the lapwing’s claws with an outstretched paw, but it flicked itself free and fluttered up, its wings beating the air as it flew away.
“Mouse dung!” Wind landed with an angry hiss. Why had she given the rabbit to those cats? They didn’t even belong on the moor. Another flash of lightning streaked through the air. She’d better take cover. The rain would come soon, and no creature would be dumb enough to stay out in a storm like this—not even prey.
As she hurried toward the heather, thunder rumbled overhead. Lightning split the air with a deafening crack. A roar exploded behind her. Wind spun, her pelt bushing. The gorse beside the holly tree was on fire! As the dry leaves crackled swiftly into flame, a shriek of terror sounded from beneath the branches. Wind froze.
The kits!
Chapter 2
Wind hared toward the burning gorse. Tansy had already limped from beneath the bush and was nosing Willow away from the flames.
The she-kit’s eyes were wide with terror. “Frog!”
Wind skidded to a halt beside them, flinching from the heat. The sound of the fire roared in her ears. “Get away!” She tried to nudge Tansy and Willow back, but they dug their claws in deep and stared in horror at the holly tree.
She followed their gaze. Frog was scrambling up the trunk. With a squeal of panic he reached the lowest branch and disappeared among the prickly leaves.
The flames from the gorse burned harder, sending sparks flashing up into the holly branches. If the sparks caught, the holly would blaze like dry heather.
Frog will be burned alive.
“Come down!” Tansy wailed.
Frog stuck his head through the spiky leaves, his eyes wild. “The fire will burn me!”
Wind forced herself closer to the heat. “If you don’t come down now, it’ll be too late!”
Frog disappeared, and Wind saw the branches shiver as he climbed higher.
Willow shrieked. “He’s climbing up, not down!”
“Get back!” Wind ordered Tansy. “Get Willow to safety.” She dodged around the flaming gorse and leaped at the holly trunk. Her claws sank deep into the gnarled bark, and she pulled herself upward.
“Stop!” Gorse’s cry rang behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the gray-striped tom staring up at her from beside Tansy.
“You’ll be killed!” he yowled.
“I have to save Frog!” She dragged herself higher up the trunk. When she reached the lowest branch, she flung her forepaws over it, hauling herself up.
The heat from the fire grew fiercer. She coughed as smoke engulfed her. “Frog!” she cried desperately. “Where are you?” Her heart pounded in her ears. Her throat was raw with fear. Blindly she reached up and squirmed around the thick branches, climbing higher and higher, the prickly leaves scraping her fur.
As she cleared the worst of the smoke, she scanned the holly, trying to glimpse Frog’s gray pelt. Her eyes streamed, stinging like fury, but she blinked away her tears and pulled herself onto the next branch.
A panicked mewl sounded ahead, and she saw a scrap of gray fur near the very end of the branch. “Frog!” She began to pad toward him, the bough creaking beneath her paws.
Suddenly the tree jerked and trembled. Unbalanced, Wind dug her claws in, her heart lurching. She glanced over her shoulder, panic sparking in her chest.
Gorse!
The gray-striped tom was hauling himself up into the holly, his weight shaking the tree. “Stay where you are!” His gaze fixed on her, glittering with fear. “That branch is too thin. It might break!”