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the empty slopes. Surely the thaw should have brought the prey from their burrows by now? Had the early snowfall killed this year’s young? He shifted his paws anxiously. If it had, leaf-bare would be long and hungry. He saw Gorse Fur freeze, and stiffened. Had the gray tom spotted prey? He followed Gorse Fur’s gaze, disappointed as he saw it fall on Moth Flight.
    Wind Runner and Gorse Fur’s scatterbrained kit had wandered away from the patrol again and was staring at the sky. The small white she-cat was five moons old, but she was as easily distracted as a kit half her age. Gray Wing frowned as he watched her scamper forward to sniff a withered stem poking from the grass before resuming her cloud gazing. Curiosity was natural in kits, but by now Moth Flight should have learned to concentrate on what she was doing.
    â€œMoth Flight!” Gorse Fur called to her. “You can watch clouds later! We’re supposed to be hunting!”
    Gray Wing flicked his tail irritably. If any prey had crept from its burrow, Gorse Fur’s yowling would send it running back for shelter.
    Moth Flight dipped her head apologetically and began to stalk the hillside.
    Behind Gray Wing, paw steps thumped against the ground. He caught a trace of Slate’s scent a moment before she stoppedbeside him, her thick, soft pelt brushing his. “Caught anything yet?” She was out of breath. Her pelt still carried the warm, heathery smell of their nest.
    Gray Wing glanced past her to the hollow in the hillside where the camp sheltered. She must have come from there. “There’s nothing to catch,” he told her gloomily.
    â€œOf course there is!” Slate lifted her chin and headed toward the others.
    Gray Wing’s dream flashed in his thoughts. It comforts me to see you happy. He remembered Turtle Tail’s words, fondness swelling in his chest. He was glad she didn’t begrudge the warmth Slate had brought to his life, relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend the cold leaf-bare nights alone. With Turtle Tail dead and her kits in different groups, he missed the closeness of family. He was lucky to be starting a new life with Slate.
    He watched her walk toward Wind Runner. Spotted Fur had slid from the heather and was gazing hopefully across the hillside. Slate stopped beside them, dipping her head to the leader.
    As the two she-cats exchanged greetings, movement caught Gray Wing’s eye. A rabbit had darted from behind a tussock and was speeding across the grass. It was too far away for Wind Runner and Spotted Fur to reach. But Gorse Fur had seen it and was charging up the slope. The rabbit streaked toward Moth Flight.
    Moth Flight, look! Gray Wing tensed. The young she-cat was still gazing into the sky. Silently he urged her to turn her head. The rabbit was veering away, heading upslope to the safetyof the moortop burrows. Moth Flight didn’t move. Couldn’t she hear its paws? Frustration surged in Gray Wing’s belly. He broke into a run. If he cut off the rabbit’s escape, he could steer it straight into Moth Flight’s path. She’d have to see it then. He ran, the damp air searing his lungs. The breathlessness he’d suffered for moons had grown worse with the coming of leaf-bare. Pain gripped his chest, but he kept running, pelt fluffed as he tried desperately to make an imposing silhouette against the skyline, enough to scare the rabbit into changing course.
    It’s working! Hope surged through his fur. The rabbit’s eyes sparked with fear, and it skidded wildly away from him.
    Moth Flight stood, face to the sky, and stared dreamily upward.
    She must hear it’s close by now! The ground seemed to tremble with the thrumming of its paws. Even Wind Runner, Spotted Fur, and Slate had turned to watch. Gorse Fur was still chasing, too far behind, eyes fixed on the rabbit.
    â€œMoth Flight!” Gray Wing yowled as the rabbit streaked past her. She turned and