Before they reached the camp, Gray Wing spotted a young bird hopping awkwardly across the grass, one wing trailing. He halted, dropped his prey, and touched Thunder on the shoulder with his tail-tip. “Look,” he murmured. “It must have fallen out of its nest.”
Thunder let out a sigh. “That’s not really hunting, is it? A young, injured bird?”
Gray Wing suppressed a hiss of exasperation. “Prey is prey, and you need all the practice you can get.”
Still looking reluctant, Thunder crouched down and began to creep up on the bird as it hopped toward a gorse thicket.
Just run after it! Gray Wing wanted to yowl the words aloud, but he knew that he had to let Thunder work it out for himself.
As he watched, Thunder set his paw down on a twig; it cracked under his weight with a sharp sound. The bird’s head swiveled toward him and it let out a squawk of alarm as it dived into the center of the thicket. Thunder dashed after it, only to be brought up short by the barrier of thorns.
“Oh, Thunder, come on!” Gray Wing bounded over to his young kin, his tail lashing. “How many more times do I have to tell you? Out here, you don’t stalk, you run.”
Thunder swung around on him. “Stop criticizing me!” he spat.
Gray Wing couldn’t believe he had heard that, or how hurt he felt at the young cat’s words. “What have I done wrong? I’m trying to teach you what you need to learn.”
Thunder shook his head in frustration. “Can’t you see, Gray Wing? I’m tired. It’s the end of the day, and I’ve had enough. You don’t have to keep pushing me all the time.”
“Pushing you?” Gray Wing echoed.
“Yes, pushing me! And watching over me all the time as if I was a kit. I’m not a kit anymore!”
Pain clawed at Gray Wing’s heart as he saw the rebellious look in the young cat’s eyes. “I only want what’s best for you,” he meowed.
Thunder muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” Gray Wing snapped, anger rising inside him, blotting out the pain. “Speak up!”
Thunder stared at him, his eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t always know what’s best for me!”
Silence stretched out between them. Gray Wing had to clamp his jaws shut to stop more hurtful words from pouring out of him. Finally he swung around, collected his rabbit, and began to stride back toward the hollow.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Thunder called after him.
Gray Wing didn’t respond.
Thunder caught up to him at the edge of the hollow. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Gray Wing set his prey down and nuzzled the young cat affectionately to show him that their quarrel was over. “It takes time to master your own techniques,” he reassured Thunder. “I know that. I should give you more room to grow. You’ll get there, I’m sure of it.”
Thunder lashed his tail in frustration. “I caught a shrew when I went into the forest with Shattered Ice,” he complained. “I felt as if I knew what to do when I had all the cover in the undergrowth. But out here, I keep messing up. I feel like I’m letting you and all the other cats down. I want to be a cat you can depend on. Especially after everything that happened yesterday.”
“You will be—” Gray Wing began.
He broke off as Thunder suddenly whipped around and raced toward a clump of gorse bushes. Gray Wing stared after him, startled, until he spotted a mouse crouched under one of the outlying branches. Well spotted, Thunder! he thought, feeling his fur prickle with pride in his kin. He could see the young cat’s courage and strong sense of honor. He’ll grow into an outstanding cat…
Before he could see whether Thunder made his catch, a cry came from the hollow. “Come quick! Turtle Tail is having her kits!”
For a heartbeat Gray Wing froze. So soon! She’s lucky she came back to us when she did. He pictured Turtle Tail giving birth alone in some exposed spot on the moor, and then trying to hunt for herself and care for her kits at the same time. He was glad that she was safe in the camp.
Abandoning the rabbit, Gray Wing burst into movement and hurtled down into the camp. Thunder raced along beside him, his hunt forgotten.
Rainswept Flower was standing in the entrance of Turtle Tail’s tunnel with Jagged Peak beside her. “Keep back, all of you,” she ordered.
Gazing past her, Gray Wing could see Turtle Tail lying stretched out on a bed of moss and dried ferns. Cloud Spots and Dappled Pelt were with her; Dappled Pelt was stroking her belly, while Cloud Spots bent his head over a tiny mound of wet fur. Gray Wing’s relief intensified. Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots can help her through this…
He wriggled his way through the crowd until he stood in front of Jagged Peak and Rainswept Flower. “Let me through!” he demanded.
Jagged Peak limped forward to bar his way. “Not yet,” he meowed. “Turtle Tail needs her space.”
Gray Wing gave his brother a surprised glance. “You’d stop me?”
Jagged Peak dipped his head. “I’m only doing what’s necessary.”
“That’s right,” Rainswept Flower agreed. “You can go in and see her when she’s ready.”
I won’t be kept away! Gray Wing barely understood the emotions that made him push past the two cats to enter the tunnel. He stumbled to a halt beside Turtle Tail. She was breathing in shallow rapid pants. The atmosphere was warm and stifled; there was a tang of blood in the air. As Gray Wing approached she raised her head a little and let out a feeble purr.
“I said you couldn’t…” Rainswept Flower had followed Gray Wing, outraged, but Cloud Spots raised a paw to silence her.
“It’s okay now. Say hello to the new kits,” Cloud Spots told Gray Wing, his voice shaky. Gray Wing was surprised. For all his experience with herbs, Cloud Spots looked slightly queasy at the sight of the three damp, blood-streaked bundles.
Gray Wing looked down, and was instantly fascinated by the tiny creatures as they squirmed in the bedding alongside their mother, their eyes still closed. He remembered seeing his brother and sister, Jagged Peak and Fluttering Bird, just after they were born, and he felt the same deep connection with these kits, amazed at how perfect they were.
“They’re wonderful,” he whispered. “Turtle Tail, the little tortoiseshell is just like you.”
“Two toms and a she-cat,” Dappled Pelt meowed. “You’re all done, Turtle Tail. Three strong, healthy kits.”
Two of the kits were already vigorously drinking Turtle Tail’s milk. The third was scrabbling blindly among the moss, letting out pitiful squeaks as he sought his mother. Gray Wing reached out a paw and gently nudged him so that he could find Turtle Tail. The squeaking stopped as the kit began to suck next to his littermates.
“They’re small,” Gray Wing murmured, gazing into Turtle Tail’s eyes, “but they’re fighters. You’ll make the best mother in the world.”
For some reason, his praise made pain flood into Turtle Tail’s face. She glanced down at her kits. “If only they had a father… ,” she whispered.
When she turned to Gray Wing, he could read her questioning expression and the depth of love in her eyes. Love for her kits, surely. She can’t possibly mean… Suddenly unsure of himself, Gray Wing took a hasty step back. “I’ll leave you in peace,” he mewed. “You need to sleep.”