Thunder Rising by Erin Hunter
But the forest was quiet. Eventually Leaf let out a long sigh and lay down in the shade of a clump of ferns. “There won’t be much prey stirring after your little performance,” he meowed.
Thunder halted beside him. “We should probably wait it out patiently,” he responded. “The prey will come back eventually.”
“That is what I’m doing, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Leaf hissed. “There’s no need to talk to me as if I’m mouse-brained. I know the forest better than you!”
“I’m sorry—” Thunder began, wondering why the cats in his father’s group seemed so quick to get angry.
“You should pay attention,” Leaf interrupted, apparently not wanting to hear his apology. “That is, if you want to learn the skills that a leader will need.”
Thunder gazed at him, his jaws gaping in shock. Is that what the other cats think? That Clear Sky has brought me here to set me up as leader after him? “You’ve got it all wrong,” he protested. “I don’t want to be leader. I’m sure that’s not what Clear Sky—”
“Be quiet!” Leaf snarled. “Your name might be Thunder, but that doesn’t mean you have to make so much noise all the time.”
Thunder suppressed a sigh. Settling down among the ferns beside the older cat, he kept his gaze fixed on the forest, his nose alert for prey. I’ll hunt now, and do the job I was told to do. But he promised himself that later he’d make sure that the other cats understood he wasn’t here to take over the group or push them out. I just want to fit in, he thought. Is that too much to ask?
Sunhigh was approaching when Leaf and Thunder returned to the camp. Leaf was carrying a squirrel that he had caught in the middle of a clearing after a magnificent bit of stalking. Thunder had managed to catch a mouse that was searching for seeds in a clump of long grass.
Leaf led the way into the camp and deposited his prey near the edge of the pool in the center. Thunder laid his mouse alongside as Clear Sky emerged from his den in a bramble thicket and padded over to inspect the catch. More of the cats appeared, too, exchanging impressed glances as they spotted the prey.
“Very well done!” Clear Sky meowed, his blue gaze resting approvingly on Thunder. “What hunting skills you have!”
Thunder stared at him. It was as if his father had completely forgotten the mess he had made of hunting the first squirrel. “I only caught the mouse,” he explained. “The squirrel is Leaf’s.”
Clear Sky seemed not to have heard him. “I can see it’s time I started training you myself in the ways of the forest,” he continued. “You show such promise.”
“But it wasn’t me . . .” Thunder tried to protest again, but Clear Sky had already turned away.
As the other cats closed in to take their share of the prey, Thunder dared to look at Leaf. He hoped that the black-and-white tom would understand. I’m sorry about what happened. . . . I tried to tell Clear Sky. But Leaf simply turned his back, hurt and anger glaring from his amber eyes.
Thunder sighed, retreating instead of biting into the prey. He watched the others eat, misery ruining his own appetite. A picture of his adopted littermates, Lightning Tail and Acorn Fur, slipped into his mind. He could see their bright eyes, and the mischievous whisk of their tails.
“I wonder what they’re doing now,” he sighed. Life was so much more carefree on the moor. . . .
CHAPTER 18
Thunder padded along in Clear Sky’s paw steps as they headed up the stream away from the river. It was the day after his disastrous hunt with Leaf, and his father was taking him training for the first time. The sky was cloudy, with only the occasional gleam of sunlight; a stiff breeze rustled the leaves and carried with it the reek of the burnt stretch of forest.
Clear Sky didn’t halt until they came to the edge of the devastation. Blackened ground and fallen, charred trees lay ahead of them; some of the trees still stood, though their leaves had burned away and their branches looked shaky, ready to crash to the ground.
Across the stream, Thunder could make out the sweep of the moor beyond the outlying trees. He knew they were close to the place where Clear Sky and his cats had crossed the stream, guided by Gray Wing and his group. He opened his jaws to ask Clear Sky if they could cross now and see if Gray Wing was hunting close by, but then changed his mind without speaking. He knew instinctively what Clear Sky’s response would be.
“This morning you’re going to work on your leaping skills,” Clear Sky announced, speaking for the first time since they had left the camp.
“Okay,” Thunder responded, determined to do his best. “What do you want me to do?”
Clear Sky waved his tail in the direction of the burnt forest. “I want to see you jumping from one tree to the next. It’s an important skill if you’re hunting squirrels or even birds, and it’s a good way to stay clear of your enemies. Out here, where the leaves are burned off the trees, you’ll be able to see where you’re going.”
Like that’s supposed to make it easier for me? Thunder thought, gazing up in dismay at the nearest fire-damaged tree. I’m not even sure it will bear my weight.
While he hesitated, Clear Sky padded over and faced him. “I can see the doubt in your eyes,” he hissed. “That’s exactly why you need to climb up the tree right now. The only way you can survive in the forest is without fear.” Clear Sky’s blue eyes glowed with passion. “Fear is like prey—it only exists to be captured and killed. Fear didn’t get me and the rest of us out of the mountains!”
Thunder stretched up to grip the burnt tree trunk with his claws; small chips of black wood flaked away at the touch. He hesitated, but didn’t want to turn around and see a disappointed or angry look in his father’s eyes.
Bracing himself, Thunder sprang and clambered up the tree, shedding scraps of wood every time he sank his claws into the trunk. At last he reached a branch and clung there, feeling it shake under him and hardly daring to look down at the ground so far below.
“Get moving!” Clear Sky called up to him. “You’re showing the tree too much respect.”
For a couple of heartbeats Thunder clung tighter as a gust of wind swayed the branch. It feels like I should respect the tree, was what he wanted to say. He knew that jumping wasn’t his strong point, and besides, he had no idea which branches would support his weight and which would give out and send him crashing down into the undergrowth. Respecting the tree makes perfect sense!
“Jump now!” Clear Sky yowled, impatience clear in his tone.
Taking a deep breath, Thunder managed to ignore the creaking of the branch and the stench of dead wood, and launched himself into a leap. He landed awkwardly in the next tree, his forepaws scrabbling at a branch while his hind legs dangled in midair. Clawing desperately, he hauled himself up until he could crouch in a fork between the branch and the tree trunk.
“Far too slow!” Clear Sky’s yowl came up from below. “You should have been two trees over by now!”
Stung by the sneering tone, Thunder peered down at his father, who stood at the foot of the tree, his tail lashing.
“What’s the point of this?” he demanded. “Didn’t Jagged Peak injure himself permanently when he fell from a tree?”
Clear Sky didn’t bother to answer. “Are you going to perch up there and ask silly questions?” he meowed. “Or are you going to continue to learn new skills? Don’t you want to learn the best way to hunt?” He pointed with his tail toward the next tree. “Let me see how strong you are!”
Growing even more irritated, Thunder decided to show his father just how good he was. Pushing off with his hind paws, he leaped from tree to tree, forcing down the fear that stirred in his belly.
This’ll show him . . . another tree . . . and another . . .
Crack!
As Thunder’s paws hit the next branch, it splintered away from the tree. Thunder felt himself falling, twisting in the air in a frantic effort to turn himself upright. A picture of Jagged Peak, dragging his injured leg across the moorland camp, flashed into his mind. Then
Clear Sky was watching him with a disappointed look in his eyes. “You showed good courage there,” he mewed, dipping his head, “but recklessness can lead to injury.” Without another word he turned and headed back toward the camp.
Thunder limped after him, testing each leg gingerly to make sure he wasn’t badly hurt. Dull anger was throbbing in his belly. If I take it slowly, I’m respecting the tree too much. If I go fast, I’m being reckless. What do I have to do to please my father?
He halted, his anger and confusion becoming too much to bear. “Clear Sky!” he called.
His father stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “What now?” he asked irritably.
Thunder didn’t let his father’s tone intimidate him. “Why are you accusing me of recklessness, when I was only doing what you told me to do?” he demanded.
Clear Sky padded back toward him, sighing patiently. “Do you really not understand yet? I brought you back here because I wanted what’s best for you—and that’s to fit in and become a useful member of the group. I’m pushing you so you can become the very best you’re capable of.”
He turned and stalked on.
As they drew close to the camp, a hunting party emerged from the trees. Petal was in the lead, followed by Frost and Falling Feather. All of them were carrying prey.
“How did your training go?” Falling Feather asked around a mouthful of vole. “Are you getting the hang of hunting in trees?”
At least she sounds friendly, Thunder reflected.
“Yes, it was fine,” he replied, hoping that no cat would see his disappointment. I’ll show Clear Sky; I’ll show all the cats here! I’ll do more training, but on my own next time. . . .
Dawn light was trickling through the trees when Thunder slipped out of the camp on the following morning. The grass was still wet with dew, soaking Thunder’s pelt as he brushed against it. Tendrils of mist tickled the trees, and pale cobwebs were stretched on every bush.
Thunder was determined that this morning he would hunt alone, and deserve his father’s praise when he came back loaded with prey. He crept through the forest, striving to make every paw step stealthy, so that he would pass as silently as a shadow among the trees.
But that wasn’t as easy as he had hoped. He had grown bigger since his foray into the forest with Shattered Ice. Every time he trod on a dead leaf, or a twig snapped under his paw, he halted, cringing, afraid that Clear Sky was following him and would hear.
He had paused beside an oak tree, sniffing carefully for prey, when he picked up the scent of cats and heard the sounds of bodies brushing through the undergrowth. At first Thunder thought it was his father at the head of a patrol, but then he realized that the scents were unfamiliar.
Peering around the bole of the oak tree, Thunder saw two cats emerge into the open. The first was a silvery-furred tom: River Ripple, who had helped them escape from the fire. With him was a black-and-white she-cat Thunder had never seen before.
Thunder’s paws tingled with uncertainty. He knew that Clear Sky didn’t like other cats hunting in the forest. But the place is big enough for all of us, he reflected. I don’t want to drive them off, especially when we owe so much to River Ripple.
Thunder turned away to head off in another direction. But after a couple of paw steps he had to halt again as a strange black tom appeared around the edge of a bramble thicket.
The black tom thrust his head forward and let out a threatening hiss. Spinning around, Thunder scampered away, only to realize that the black tom was hard on his paws.
Thunder dodged to and fro among bushes and clumps of ferns, but he couldn’t shake off his pursuer. Spotting an ash tree with an inviting low branch, he pushed off in a huge leap and clawed the rest of the way up the trunk until he reached the branch.
A furious snarl came from behind him. Turning and looking down, Thunder saw with a stab of fear that the black tom was climbing the tree after him.
Thunder slid out his claws and swiped at the black tom as he came within range, but the tom ducked under the blow and hurled himself at Thunder, almost knocking him off the branch. Thunder tackled him, grabbing the cat’s shoulder fur in his jaws. He let out a screech as he felt the black tom’s claws rake down his side.
Then he felt his paws slipping from the branch, and a heartbeat later he was falling through the air. He lost his grip on the other cat, who fell with him, paws and tail flailing.
Thunder managed to land on all four paws, wincing at the impact. The black tom was sprawled on his side; Thunder leaped forward and used his forepaws to pin down the black tom’s shoulders.
“You stupid furball, I wasn’t doing you any harm,” Thunder hissed. Glancing up, he saw that River Ripple and his companion had followed and were gazing at them from a couple of tail-lengths away. “I don’t want—” Thunder began.
Crashing from the undergrowth interrupted him. Clear Sky sprang into the open and halted for a heartbeat, his gaze raking the three strange cats.
“Get out of here now, and don’t come back!” he growled. “Thunder, you can let that mange-pelt up.”
Thunder stepped back obediently. As the black tom struggled to his paws, Clear Sky bounded up to him and gave him a warning shove, sending him sprawling.
The black tom scrambled up again and scurried off with the she-cat hard on his paws. River Ripple began to follow them, then paused, looking back at Clear Sky with a long, cold stare.
Clear Sky was unmoved by it. “Cats who attack my son will be punished,” he snarled.
“You can’t keep doing this,” River Ripple mewed simply. “You can’t try to tell other cats what to do.”
“Come over here and say that again,” Clear Sky challenged. “I can do what I like.”
Thunder could hardly believe what he was hearing. His own father, acting like some sort of bully.
“I’m sure it doesn’t . . . ,” Thunder started to say, but Clear Sky’s glare was so vicious that the words dried up in his throat.
River Ripple was watching him closely. “No, please, carry on,” he said. “I’m interested to know what a young cat thinks about all this.”
“Thunder’s opinion is none of your business!” Clear Sky hissed. “Thunder doesn’t have an opinion!”
Thunder felt his stomach shrivel. Was that really what his father thought? River Ripple was still staring hard at him and Thunder had to look away. Silence throbbed through the air, then there was the sound of River Ripple stalking away.
Clear Sky waited until River Ripple had vanished into the undergrowth before turning to Thunder. “Congratulations!” he meowed. “You have just expanded our territory. Those cats won’t dare come back here again, and hopefully they’ll spread the word that we don’t tolerate uninvited visitors.” Waving his tail for Thunder to follow, he headed back in the direction of the camp.
Is that what I did? he wondered. Thunder had never thought in terms of “tolerating” other cats.
Thunder felt miserable. His morning had been ruined. Instead of training by himself and returning triumphantly to camp with his jaws full of prey, he had ended up in an ugly brawl with rogue cats—including one cat who had probably saved all their lives. And I’d already defeated the black tom, he thought with a twinge of resentment. Clear Sky didn’t have to be so protective—or put me down like that.
“You know, I was fine back there,” he began nervously, not wanting to provoke an angry reaction. “The fight was over. You didn’t have to shove that cat.”
“Fine? The cats were in the forest, weren’t they?” Clear Sky hissed impatiently. “How can that be fine?”
“But the rogue cats were here before any of us,” Thunder replied, alarmed. “They can go where they like, can’t they?” He hesitated then plunged on. “I do have an opinion, you know.”
Clear Sky halted, his eyes widening as he ga
“Uh . . . right.” What else could Thunder say? Of course he wanted the forest cats to have a safe and happy home, although it didn’t feel that happy right now.
His tail drooping, Thunder followed his father back to the camp.
What have I done? he asked himself. A moment of doubt pierced him. Maybe I should have stayed with Gray Wing. Even thinking that made Thunder feel both disloyal and like a coward. I had no idea what I was doing—I still don’t.
He watched his father’s silhouette, pulling ahead. Thunder’s heart felt heavy as a stone. I’m here now. There’s no going back. Being reunited with his father had once been Thunder’s biggest dream, but now it felt like a weight on his shoulders. He wondered where River Ripple and those other cats would be now. Spreading the word of their encounter?
I hope not, Thunder thought. I wish it had never happened.
CHAPTER 19
Gray Wing sat at the mouth of the den he shared with Turtle Tail, his paws tucked comfortably underneath him, and watched the three kits playing at the bottom of the hollow. Their squeals of excitement drifted over as they leaped on top of one another and rolled around in the scattered twigs and debris from the gorse bushes.
When Rainswept Flower said we’d have our paws full, she wasn’t wrong, he thought. I wonder how I used to fill my days before the kits came.
As Gray Wing slid into a doze, letting the warm sunlight soak into his pelt, he spotted Sparrow Fur racing up the slope toward him. “Gray Wing, come and play with us!” she begged, skidding to a halt in front of him.