“It seems so wrong to leave it,” Rainswept Flower murmured regretfully.
As the cats headed away, Gray Wing glanced back to see a thin, red-furred creature slink out of the grass. At first he stiffened, thinking it was a dog, but its snout was sharper and it had a stronger, rank scent. It snatched some of the remains of the prey and stood gulping it down, its gaze darting to and fro.
Gray Wing nudged Shattered Ice, who was walking next to him. “What’s that, do you think?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Shattered Ice replied.
“It looks mean,” said Gray Wing. He quickened his pace, but decided not to alarm the others.
By the time the light started to fade, the cats had crossed several narrow Thunderpaths and skirted a cluster of red stone Twoleg dens where a number of dogs lurked, barking. Beyond the dens, the ground sloped down into a marshy hollow, covered by tussocky grass with clumps of reeds here and there.
“We can’t go this way,” Quick Water protested, staring down into the dip with a look of disgust on her face. “We’ll get our paws wet.”
Shaded Moss glanced in both directions; following his gaze, Gray Wing realized that the boggy area stretched out of sight on each side. “We have to,” Shaded Moss decided. When Quick Water opened her jaws to argue, he added, “Wet paws won’t kill any cat.”
But when they reached the bottom of the slope, Gray Wing and the others realized that they would be lucky to escape with nothing worse than wet paws. The ground shivered as they padded across; as they moved farther into the marsh, they began to sink until every cat was wading through mud up to their bellies. The stench of it rose around them and clouds of midges billowed into the air.
“This is awful!” Hawk Swoop exclaimed. “I’ll never get my fur clean.”
Quick Water was muttering under her breath as she floundered from tussock to tussock, and even Falling Feather looked uncomfortable.
Jagged Peak, the lightest of the cats, was having an easier time than the rest—until he slipped sideways from a clump of grass and started to sink, his forepaws splashing vainly at the mud.
“Help!” he wailed.
Rainswept Flower hauled herself onto the clump of grass and bent over, grabbing Jagged Peak by the scruff of the neck. She dragged him out and set him on his paws again, his pelt plastered with mud.
“Thanks!” he gasped.
Every cat was cold, soaked, and filthy by the time they reached the other side of the marsh. All they could think of was finding some kind of shelter.
Not far away, they spotted a huge cave made out of wood. It must be a different kind of Twoleg den, Gray Wing thought.
Shaded Moss took the lead again as they trudged toward it, pausing cautiously when they reached the entrance. Gray Wing peered over his shoulder. The den contained huge stacks of pressed, dried grass, and he felt even more exhausted as he thought about the warm and comfortable nests they could make in it. There were several raised pools of water in stone hollows; Gray Wing passed his tongue over his lips, realizing how thirsty he was after taking several mouthfuls of the foul marsh water. Even better, the scent of mice wafted out to meet them, and Gray Wing could hear myriad squeaks and scufflings coming from the dried grass.
“What are we waiting for?” Moon Shadow asked, shouldering his way past Shaded Moss. “This place is teeming with prey!”
Shaded Moss nodded. “It seems safe enough. There are no Twolegs here.”
With his go-ahead, the cats dived into the den, eager to hunt. We’ve eaten once today, Gray Wing thought, as his claws closed on a mouse, but I can definitely manage more. We can’t waste all this prey!
The cats settled in the warm grass to share their catch, taking one bite and then exchanging as they did in their mountain home. Gray Wing could feel his pelt tighten as his belly swelled, full of delicious food.
“I’ve been thinking,” Rainswept Flower announced while they were still eating. “Everything we want is here. What else could we possibly be looking for? What if we’ve found our new home?”
Chapter 11
For a moment every cat was silent with shock. Moon Shadow was the first to speak. “Suits me,” he meowed, swiping his tongue around his jaws.
“Yes, it’s warm and dry in here,” Quick Water agreed.
“And there’s no smell of dogs,” Shattered Ice added. His nose twitched. “There’s a different sort of scent, but I don’t recognize it. Still, if it’s not dogs or eagles, it can’t be dangerous.”
Shaded Moss was looking thoughtful. “It could work,” he said at last. “And we’re close enough to the mountains to go back and visit the others now and then.”
Excited murmurs rose from the group of cats, and they glanced at one another with shining eyes.
“We can make nests in this dried grass,” Falling Feather mewed. “It would be a great place for bringing up kits.”
Gray Wing didn’t join in the plans. He couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. There’s nothing wrong with this place, he thought. But I imagined finding our new home would feel more right.
He looked around, trying to picture himself and his Tribemates living here. His legs felt restless at the thought of being trapped within the wooden walls. They were not as natural as the walls of a cave. Besides, he would have liked to know what the strange scent was.
But if it’s right for the others, shouldn’t I be happy to stay? he asked himself guiltily.
“What do you think?” he asked Turtle Tail, who was sitting beside him. “Is this the place we’ve been looking for?”
The tortoiseshell she-cat looked surprised. “I’m pretty sure it is,” she replied. “Aren’t you?”
Gray Wing shook his head.
“Everything beyond the mountains is going to feel strange,” Turtle Tail pointed out. “It’s just a case of getting used to a different way of living.”
Gray Wing suppressed a sigh. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, curling up next to her to sleep.
Before he closed his eyes, Gray Wing spotted Clear Sky sitting on the hard earth floor, staring into the shadows. His brother was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight that shone through a gap in the wall, turning his light gray pelt to silver. He looked so alone that Gray Wing’s heart ached for him.
If only Bright Stream were still here.
The cats burrowed into the warm, dry grass to make nests, and fell into a deep, sound sleep. They felt so safe that no cat suggested setting a watch.
An unfamiliar noise aroused Gray Wing. His eyes blinked open and he saw gray dawn light seeping through the gaps in the shelter wall. Outside he could hear a trampling noise, and knew that was what had awoken him.
Springing to his paws, Gray Wing turned to face the shelter entrance. Outside in the dimness he could see a pale, moving mass converging on the shelter. The trampling grew louder.
“Wake up!” he screeched, hurling himself at one cat after another and swiping his paws across their ears to make them wake. “Run!”
Glancing back at the entrance he realized that the pale mass had drawn closer; now he could see that it was made up of sheep—more sheep than he had ever seen before, and all of them heading for the shelter. Their trampling and bleating seemed to fill the whole world and their scent—the strange scent they had picked up before—flooded over him.
“We can’t get out!” Falling Feather yowled. “They’ll crush us!”
Already the first sheep were trotting into the shelter, pushing one another to get through the entrance. There was no way past them that could avoid their sharp, cruel paws.