A Forest Divided by Erin Hunter

smell is wet leaves,” Lightning Tail meowed. “How do you ever sniff out prey around here? I can hardly taste my own tail when I wash.”
    â€œYou’ll learn how,” Thunder promised. He was only just getting used to it himself. He’d lived in the forest beforebut had forgotten all he’d learned after moons on the moor. There, the wind had carried only fresh scents. Here, smells gathered and mingled, catching on bushes and lingering on tree trunks. The whole forest tasted musty with decay.
    Lightning Tail nodded to Thunder. “Do you want to join us?”
    â€œNo, thanks.” Thunder stared through the trees, wondering what was beyond the steep rise sloping up toward a thickly brambled crest. “I thought I’d explore my new home.” He flicked his tail toward Clear Sky. “Do you want to come with me?”
    Clear Sky jerked around. “Come with you?”
    â€œI thought you might want to keep me company.”
    Clear Sky narrowed his eyes. “Are you planning to show me around my own territory?”
    Thunder tipped his head, suddenly uneasy. “That’s not what I meant. I just wondered if you wanted to come along—”
    Clear Sky cut him off. “It’s time I patrolled my borders.” He lifted his tail. “Perhaps you’d like to keep me company.”
    Thunder’s pelt itched with frustration. Why did Clear Sky have to make everything a battle? He is the leader, he reminded himself. Let him lead. He dipped his head. “I’d be honored.”
    Clear Sky marched from the clearing. Thunder followed.
    Lightning Tail leaned forward as Thunder brushed past. “Does he argue about everything?” he whispered.
    â€œYes,” Thunder hissed back.
    Clear Sky could be obstinate. But they knew that already. Thunder just wished that he were better at guessing what wasgoing to make Clear Sky’s hackles rise. Dealing with his father was like picking his way through a briar patch—he never knew when he would step on a thorn.
    Lightning Tail nosed Thunder’s flank. “You’ve got more patience than me.”
    If only that were true. “See you later, Lightning Tail.” Thunder hurried on, weaving through a crowd of slender birch trees, following Clear Sky between the trunks. Water chattered beyond. They were heading for a stream. By the time Thunder caught up, Clear Sky had leaped the brook and was crouching at the far side. Thunder stopped at the edge and watched as Clear Sky leaned down the steep bank and began to lap at the water.
    The stream had been empty until the snow had melted; now it washed his paw tips and glittered beneath the bare branches as it snaked away between the trees. Thunder bent low and drank too. It was more refreshing than what he found on the moor, where the streams were sluggish, the peaty earth making the water taste like smoke.
    He lifted his head, his chin dripping, seeing that Clear Sky was now pacing the far bank. “Are you ready?” his father asked.
    After Thunder jumped the stream, Clear Sky nodded toward a gully that cut through the forest. “There’s a huge oak along there. Beyond it, the forest stretches to Twolegplace.”
    â€œShow me.” Thunder waited for Clear Sky to take the lead, then fell in behind him.
    He followed his father over a rise, then hopped after him into the gully. It rose steeply on either side, muddy from therecent rain. Slippery roots snaked beneath Thunder’s paws. Clear Sky moved easily between them, his pale gray pelt no more than a shadow in the gloom. Thunder was aware that his own orange pelt glowed. His paws slithered. He stumbled over a root, landing awkwardly as another tripped him. He was used to the wide smooth expanses of the moor. Even the rabbit trails between the heather were well worn and easy to navigate. The uneven path here unbalanced him, and he found himself concentrating so hard on where to put his paws