Fire in the Sky (20 page)

Kallik bounded to her paws when
she heard the commotion down by the pelt-den.

“Something’s happening!” she barked.

Toklo was already standing at the top of the slope, staring at the pelt-den. “I can’t tell what’s going on,” he said. “It’s too dark. There are shapes outside, but they could just be more flat-faces—or—” Suddenly he gasped. “I think I can see Lusa!”

Kallik pressed up next to him. Her heart was pounding. Were Lusa and Ujurak all right? All she could see outside the pelt-den was a couple of shadowy figures that looked like flat-faces. Then she spotted a small blur of shadows next to one of them. That could be Lusa!

“We should get down there,” Toklo growled, taking a step forward. “They need our help!”

“Wait!” Kallik yelped. She shoved herself in his way. “Look!” The small blur separated from the other shadows and began running toward them. Kallik could tell right away from its
funny rolling gait that it was Lusa. She was free!

“Where’s Ujurak?” Toklo muttered fretfully. “Why isn’t he right behind her?”

Then they saw one of the flat-faces start to change. His shadow grew bigger and bigger, and a moment later, a brown bear was dashing across the snow toward them, right on Lusa’s paws.

“Over here!” Kallik shouted, leaping up on her hind legs and waving her paws. “We’re here! Lusa! Ujurak!”

The two bears veered toward her, galloping up the incline. Kallik wanted to roar with joy when she saw Lusa’s face only a bearlength away. The black bear cub threw herself at Kallik, knocking her over into the snow, and they rolled happily for a moment.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” Lusa cried.

“Same to you!” Kallik said. “What are you doing, letting yourself get caught by no-claws?”

“But they were nice,” Lusa protested. “They cleaned me up. See?” She spun in a circle, showing off her shining coat.

Toklo snorted. “Only you would enjoy being caught by flat-faces.”

“You’re just jealous,” Lusa teased, “because your pelt is still sticky and smelly. Maybe you should go down there and ask them to give you a bath, too.”

“Not on your life!” Toklo growled. “No flat-face is putting its paws all over me!”

Lusa bumped against him. “Well, I guess you don’t smell
that
bad.”

He harrumphed and muttered grumpily. Lusa gave Kallik a twinkling glance, and Kallik sighed with relief. She hadn’t seen Lusa this awake since they’d been out on the ice. It was nice to have their cheerful little friend back to herself again. Kallik hoped it could last—she knew the longsleep was still waiting to take Lusa, and they were heading back into a world of hard journeys and food that disagreed with the black bear.

Toklo sniffed Ujurak as he caught up. “You smell like flat-faces,” he said disapprovingly.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Ujurak joked.

“We’d better run,” Toklo said. “Those flat-faces will be after you any moment now.”

Ujurak shook his head. “Sally will stop them. I mean, she was pretty shocked, but—I think she understood.”

“Sally?”
Toklo grumbled. “What kind of name is that?”

“Lusa,” Ujurak said urgently. “You can still go back if you want to.”

Kallik stared at him. What was he talking about? Freeing Lusa was the whole point!

“Why would I do that?” Lusa asked, equally puzzled.

“They were planning to take you back to the mainland tomorrow,” Ujurak said. “I know…I mean, I know that’s what you wanted…before. If that’s still what you want—” He paused, looking despairing, then burst out, “But we need you, Lusa! We need you to come with us. I saw more signs—we can’t do this without you. All four of us have to be—”

Lusa pressed her nose into his thick fur and he stopped. “It’s all right,” she said. “You’re right. We’re going together.”
She gave Toklo a significant look. “No matter what happens. This is our destiny.”

Kallik glanced at Toklo, expecting him to argue. But the big brown bear just ducked his head and glared at the ice under his paws. Ujurak looked at him, too, and then let out his breath in a long sigh.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “It won’t be long now. I can feel it. Our journey will be over soon, I promise.”

“Well, let’s get a move on, then,” Toklo growled, glancing at the pelt-den below them. More lights had come on and flat-faces were milling about outside, but it looked as if Ujurak was right. None of them had come after the bears.

Kallik took the lead as the bears turned their back on the flat-faces and began to run. She could feel her friends’ fur brushing against her on either side—white and black and brown together. And as they ran, Kallik felt another bear running with them, huge and weightless, her paws skimming the ice. She turned and saw how Ujurak’s eyes were shining, and she knew he felt his mother’s presence, too.

Together, the bears ran through the darkness, heading toward the line of gold where the sun was just starting to rise.

Kallik

A glimmer of satisfaction crept through
Kallik as she and her friends returned to the frozen sea.
They don’t understand this place. I have to look after them
.

She had grown used to being the leader, the one who took charge of hunting and finding good places to sleep.

Now she was focused, intent on keeping their little group together as she scanned the sky for the lights that showed the presence of the spirits. But there were no lights. Their absence was a pain clawing deep into Kallik’s heart.

Where are you, Nisa? Have you abandoned us?

“I’m so hungry!” Lusa exclaimed.

“I’m starving, too,” Toklo grumbled.

“Kallik, can you find a seal hole?” Ujurak asked. His tone was edgy and his claws scraped impatiently on the ice.

“I’ll do my best,” she promised.

The other three kept walking while Kallik cast back and forth on either side. Eventually she spotted the dark patch
of the seal’s breathing hole.

“Over here!” she called to her friends. “You wait there; I’ll do the catching.”

Kallik crouched down at the edge of the hole, making sure that her shadow didn’t fall across it, and made herself comfortable for the long wait. She was hardly settled when she realized there was something strange about this hole.

There’s no fresh scent!

The only scent of seal was faint and stale, as if none of the creatures had been there for a long time.

That’s odd
.

The moments dragged by as Kallik waited beside the neat black circle. There was no sign of movement in the water, and no scent of seal. Now and again she cast a glance toward her friends, who were clustered a few bear-lengths away. Lusa and Toklo were talking together quietly; Kallik could read impatience in the twitching of their ears and the scrape of their claws on the ice.

Ujurak sat a little way away from them, his muzzle raised and his gaze scanning the sky. It was full daylight now, and the sun shone down, gleaming on the surface of the ice. Kallik longed for the night, when she would be able to see the Pathway Star, and maybe the spirits would return to guide them.

She made herself concentrate on the seal hole again, alert for the first swirling of the water that would herald the appearance of a seal. But everything was quiet. At last, in growing desperation, she peered down into the hole to see if she could spot moving shapes in the water. But she saw nothing except
the shadows in the ocean.

“Kallik!” Ujurak’s voice cut through her concentration. “We have to keep moving.”

Kallik’s first instinct was to protest, to beg for a little more time. But she admitted to herself that however long she waited, there wouldn’t be a seal for her to catch from this hole.

“Okay, coming,” she replied, heaving herself to her paws and flexing stiff muscles.

Returning to her friends, she saw how anxious Ujurak was looking, though he said nothing, allowing her to take the lead as they set off once more across the ice.

He angled his ears toward a smudge on the distant horizon. Kallik felt more hopeful at the sight, and all the bears seemed to find new energy now that they had something to aim for. Their pace quickened.

As she bounded along, Kallik could hear sounds that she hadn’t heard for a long time: lapping water and the high-pitched creak of thin ice.

We’re getting close to land again. Or is the ice melting?
A sharp pang of foreboding stabbed through her like a walrus tusk at the thought of being cut off from land. Picking up Ujurak’s urgency, she ran even faster. A low ice ridge blocked their path; she pushed upward with powerful hind legs, springing easily to the top.

Only a few pawlengths ahead, the ice vanished. A wide channel had been gouged through it. It was about the width of one of the no-claws’ water-beasts, and the stink of burning oil fumes still hung about it, making Kallik gag.

“Stop!” Kallik froze as she barked out the warning. “Danger!”

Her friends scampered past her, bounding up to the very edge of the channel and peering curiously into the water. Kallik stayed where she was, her paws turned to stone. The channel reminded her too much of the place where she and Taqqiq had crossed, where Nisa had given up her life.

Toklo was balanced on the very edge of the ice. “We’ll have to swim,” he announced. “It’s not as wide as the Great River we crossed before Smoke Mountain. It won’t take long.”

“No!” Kallik choked out the word. “We can’t. It’s not safe.”

Toklo narrowed his eyes at her. “Not safe how?”

Kallik swallowed. “Orca,” she whispered. She stared down at her paws, struggling with terror.

Lusa padded over to her. Kallik felt the comforting warmth of the black bear’s pelt pressed up against her own. “That’s how your mother died, isn’t it?” Lusa murmured.

Kallik nodded.

“I know how you feel,” Lusa went on, her voice warm and sympathetic. “But it will be different this time. Everything will be okay. It’s not far, and we’ll swim fast. Besides, we’re much bigger than you and Taqqiq were back then!”

You’re not
,
Lusa,
Kallik thought.
Maybe that seal hole was empty because there are too many orca here
.

Lusa gave her a gentle nudge, and Kallik allowed herself to be coaxed as far as the water. Peering into it, she saw that the edge of the ice was broken up where the water-beast had
plowed through, and the reek of oil was stronger than ever.

“Kallik, we have to go this way,” Ujurak said.

“He’s right,” Toklo agreed. “It’ll be dark soon, and we can’t stay here all night.”

“I’ll find a good place to slide in,” Lusa announced, scampering along the ice at the very edge of the channel.

Suddenly there was a loud crack and the ice underneath Lusa’s paws shattered, pitching her into the sea. Kallik started toward her, only to halt as Lusa’s black head bobbed up again.

Lusa spat out water, her forepaws working vigorously. “Great spirits, that’s cold!” she exclaimed. “But I’m in now. I may as well keep swimming.” Facing forward again, she paddled strongly across the stretch of water, and Toklo slipped in after her.

“You next, Kallik,” Ujurak prompted.

Kallik realized there was no point in arguing. She launched herself into the channel, and the water closed around her, cold and familiar. Behind her she heard Ujurak slide in and start swimming. Ahead, she could see that Lusa was doing well, already halfway across the channel with Toklo just behind her.

Suddenly Kallik spotted a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw a huge black fin sliding through the water, bearing down on Lusa. The little black bear swam on, unaware of her danger.

“Orca!” Kallik yelped. “Swim faster!”

Floodwater thundered down the gorge, chasing
a wall of uprooted trees and bushes as if they were the slenderest twigs. Leafstar stood at the entrance to her den and watched in horror as the current foamed and swirled among the rocks, mounting higher and higher. Rain lashed the surface from bulging black clouds overhead.

Water gurgled into Echosong’s den; though the SkyClan leader strained her eyes through the stormy darkness, she couldn’t see what had happened to the medicine cat. A cat’s shriek cut through the tumult of the water and Leafstar spotted the Clan’s two elders struggling frantically as they were swept out of their den. The two old cats flailed on the surface for a heartbeat and then vanished.

Cherrytail and Patchfoot, heading down the trail with fresh-kill in their jaws, halted in astonishment when they saw the flood. They spun around and fled up the cliff, but the water surged after them and carried them yowling along the gorge. Leafstar lost sight of them as a huge tree, its roots high
in the air like claws, rolled between her and the drowning warriors.

Great StarClan, help us!
Leafstar prayed.
Save my Clan!

Already the floodwater was lapping at the entrance to the nursery. A kit poked its nose out and vanished back inside with a frightened wail. Leafstar bunched her muscles, ready to leap across the rocks and help, but before she could move, a wave higher than the rest licked around her and caught her up, tossing her into the river alongside the splintered trees.

Leafstar fought and writhed against the smothering water, gasping for breath. She coughed as something brittle jabbed inside her open mouth. She opened her eyes and spat out a frond of dried bracken. Her nest was scattered around her den and there were deep clawmarks in the floor where she had struggled with the invisible wave. Flicking off a shred of moss that was clinging to one ear, she sat up, panting.

Thank StarClan, it was only a dream!

The SkyClan leader stayed where she was until her heartbeat slowed and she had stopped trembling. The flood had been so real, washing away her Clanmates in front of her eyes….

Sunlight was slanting through the entrance to her den; with a long sigh of relief, Leafstar tottered to her paws and padded onto the ledge outside. Down below, the river wound peacefully between the steep cliffs that enclosed the gorge. As sunhigh approached, light gleamed on the surface of the water and soaked into Leafstar’s brown and cream fur; she relaxed her shoulders, enjoying the warmth and the sensation of the
gentle breeze that ruffled her pelt.

“It was only a dream,” she repeated to herself, pricking her ears at the twittering of birds in the trees at the top of the gorge. “Newleaf is here, and SkyClan has survived.”

A warm glow of satisfaction flooded through her as she recalled that only a few short moons ago she had been nothing more than Leaf. She had been a loner, responsible for no cat but herself. Then Firestar had appeared: a leader of a Clan from a distant forest, with an amazing story of a lost Clan who had once lived here in the gorge. Firestar had gathered loners and kittypets to revive SkyClan; most astonishing of all, Leaf had been chosen to lead them.

“I’ll never forget that night when the spirits of my ancestors gave me nine lives and made me Leafstar,” she murmured. “My whole world changed. I wonder if you still think about us, Firestar,” she added. “I hope you know that I’ve kept the promises I made to you and my Clanmates.”

Shrill meows from below brought the she-cat back to the present. The Clan was beginning to gather beside the Rockpile, where the underground river flowed into the sunlight for the first time. Shrewtooth, Sparrowpelt, and Cherrytail were crouched down, eating, not far from the fresh-kill pile. Shrewtooth gulped his mouse down quickly, casting suspicious glances at the two younger warriors. Leafstar remembered how a border patrol had caught the black tom spying on the Clan two moons ago, terrified and half starving. They had persuaded him to move into the warriors’ den, but he was still finding it hard to fit into Clan life.

I’ll have to do something to make him understand that he is among friends now,
Leafstar decided.
He’s more nervous than a cornered mouse
.

The two Clan elders, Lichenfur and Tangle, were sharing tongues on a flat rock warmed by the sun. They looked content; Tangle was a bad-tempered old rogue who stopped in the gorge now and again to eat before going back to his den in the forest, but he seemed to get on fine with Lichenfur, and Leafstar hoped she would convince him to stay permanently in the camp.

Lichenfur had lived alone in the woods farther up the gorge, aware of the new Clan but staying clear of them. She had almost died when she had been caught in a fox trap, until a patrol had found her and brought her back to camp for healing. After that she had been glad to give up the life of a loner. “She has wisdom to teach the Clan,” Leafstar mewed softly from the ledge. “Every Clan needs its elders.”

The loud squeals she could hear were coming from Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, and Rockpaw, who were chasing one another in a tight circle, their fur bristling with excitement. As Leafstar watched, their mother, Clovertail, padded up to them, her whiskers twitching anxiously. Leafstar couldn’t hear what she said, but the apprentices skidded to a halt; Clovertail beckoned Tinypaw with a flick of her tail and started to give her face a thorough wash. Leafstar purred with amusement as the young white she-cat wriggled under the swipes of her mother’s rough tongue, while Clovertail’s eyes shone with pride.

Pebbles pattering down beside her startled Leafstar. Looking up, she saw Patchfoot heading down the rocky trail with
a squirrel clamped firmly in his jaws. Waspwhisker followed him, with his apprentice Mintpaw a pawstep behind; they both carried mice. Leafstar gave a little nod of approval as the hunting patrol passed her. Prey was becoming more plentiful with the warmer weather, and the fresh-kill pile was swelling. She pictured Waspwhisker when he had joined the Clan during the first snowfall of leaf-bare: a lost kittypet wailing with cold and hunger as he blundered along the gorge. Now the gray and white tom was one of the most skillful hunters in the Clan, with an apprentice of his own. He even had kits, with another former stray named Fallowfern.

SkyClan is growing
.

Waspwhisker’s four kits bounced out of the nursery as their father padded past, and scampered behind him, squeaking. Their mother, Fallowfern, emerged more slowly and edged her way down the trail after them; she still wasn’t completely comfortable with the sheer cliff face and pointed rocks that surrounded SkyClan’s camp.

“Be careful!” she called. “Don’t fall!”

The kits had already reached the bottom of the gorge, getting under their father’s paws, cuffing one another over the head and rolling perilously near to the pool. Waspwhisker gently nudged the pale brown tom, Nettlekit, away from the edge.

But as soon as their father turned away to drop his prey on the fresh-kill pile, Nettlekit’s sister Plumkit jumped on him. Nettlekit swiped at her, as if he was trying to copy a battle move he’d seen when the apprentices were training. Plumkit
rolled over; Nettlekit staggered, lost his balance, and toppled into the river.

Fallowfern let out a wail. “Nettlekit!”

Stifling a gasp, Leafstar sprang to her paws, but she was too far away to do anything. Fallowfern leaped swiftly from boulder to boulder, but Waspwhisker was faster still, plunging into the pool after his kit. Leafstar lost sight of them for a few heartbeats. She watched the other Clan cats huddled at the water’s edge—all except for Shrewtooth, who paced up and down the bank, his tail lashing in agitation. Leafstar purred with relief when she saw Waspwhisker hauling himself out of the river with Nettlekit clamped firmly in his jaws. The tiny tom’s paws flailed until his father set him down on the rock. Then he shook himself, spattering every cat with shining drops of water. Fallowfern pounced on him and started to lick his pelt, but Nettlekit struggled away from her and hurled himself straight at Plumkit.

“I’ll teach you to push me in the river!” he squealed.