Эрин Хантер - The Raging Storm

Paw steps thrummed behind him. Undergrowth swished. He turned as the scents of Sparkpelt, Berrynose, and Ambermoon washed over him. The three ThunderClan warriors slewed to a halt on the path ahead. They’d left camp this morning to hunt. Berrynose was carrying two dead shrews by the tail while Ambermoon held a squirrel between her jaws.

“Hey, Alderheart!” Sparkpelt greeted him with a purr. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for clues about what’s making Puddleshine so sick,” Alderheart told her.

Ambermoon dropped the squirrel. “Is he worse?”

“Yes.” Alderheart glanced toward the silverthorn. “I wondered if he picked up an infection here that is making it hard for his wounds to heal.”

Sparkpelt flicked her tail angrily at the silverthorn. “Who knows what Twolegs use to make that stuff? I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s poisonous.”

Berrynose laid the shrews on the ground. “We wondered whether to try to use sticks to cover it up. But I think it’s better to leave it in plain sight so cats can see to avoid it.”

“It’s too big for us to move.” Ambermoon blinked at the silverthorn. “Besides, where would we move it to? It’ll be dangerous wherever we leave it.”

Alderheart sniffed the vine once more. “If it is Twoleg poison making Puddleshine sick, herbs might not be enough to cure him.” Worry jabbed in his belly.

“You’ll find a way,” Sparkpelt mewed encouragingly.

“I hope so.” As he spoke, movement caught Alderheart’s eye. A rabbit hopped clumsily from beneath a bramble a few tail-lengths away. Hadn’t it scented the cats?

Sparkpelt had already seen the prey. She’d dropped into a hunting crouch, and her gaze was fixed on the rabbit as it stumbled into the open.

“It’s injured,” Alderheart whispered. He could see dried blood on its swollen hind leg.

“So it’ll be easier to catch.” Sparkpelt’s tail quivered with excitement as Berrynose and Ambermoon stood as still as rocks behind her.

“Wait!” Alderheart detected a familiar scent wafting from the rabbit—the same sweet scent of decay that clung to Puddleshine. “It’s not just wounded; it’s infected.”

Sparkpelt looked at him questioningly. “Are you sure?”

“Can’t you smell it?”

Ambermoon’s nose was twitching. “He’s right. It smells sour. Let’s leave it. We don’t want to poison the Clan.”

Sparkpelt straightened, disappointment in her eyes. “I guess we’ll have to try elsewhere.”

Berrynose nodded toward the rabbit as it lolloped heavily toward the deathberry bush, eyes dull with pain. “Look, it’s so sick, it can’t even tell we’re here.”

“Come on.” Sparkpelt jerked her head toward the slope. “Let’s head for the beeches. There will be healthy rabbits there.” Berrynose picked up the shrews again and Ambermoon grabbed the squirrel. “Will you be okay?” Sparkpelt asked Alderheart.

“Sure,” he told her. “I’m about to head back to camp. There are herbs I want to pick on the way.”

Sparkpelt dipped her head politely before heading away. Berrynose and Ambermoon followed, nodding as they passed.

Alderheart glanced back at the rabbit. Why was it snuffling around the deathberry bush? Alarm sparked through him as the rabbit paused and reached up with its teeth to pluck a deathberry from the tip of a branch. What’s it doing? Alderheart watched in horror as the rabbit dropped the berry at its paws and began to nibble delicately at the flesh. Doesn’t it know that it’s poisonous? He thought all woodland creatures knew to stay away from deathberries. Their bitter tang betrayed the poison they carried. Perhaps it knows it’s dying and wants to end its suffering. It must be in a lot of pain to choose death. For the first time, Alderheart felt a twinge of sympathy for prey. Perhaps he should kill it himself. It would die quickly. But Alderheart didn’t trust his skills. He’d begun training as a warrior before he’d become a medicine-cat apprentice, but he’d never been very good. He could hunt if he had to, but he couldn’t be sure his killing bite would be as quick or as painless as it should be. And the thought of biting into infected prey made him hesitate.

He turned away. If the rabbit wanted to die, he’d leave it in peace. Besides, he’d promised Puddleshine he’d fetch the wood sorrel as quickly as he could.

Heading away from the silverthorn, he tried not to think of the rabbit’s suffering. Whatever poison the silverthorn carried, it was clearly deadly. He quickened his step. The sooner he treated Puddleshine the better. He just hoped that the wood sorrel would be enough to cure the stricken medicine cat.

CHAPTER 4

Alderheart dreamed that he was padding through unfamiliar woods. His paws caught on sticks that littered the ground. Cracks scarred the uneven earth and he had to weave around them. Trees crowded close, their branches twisted, their bark gnarled. Hazy light filtered between them and the air felt too thick to breathe. Alderheart’s pelt prickled uneasily and he glanced over his shoulder, sensing danger behind him. He quickened his pace.

Behind him, a faint growl lifted to a roar like wind rushing toward him. His heart lurched as he broke into a run. Shadow pursued him, swallowing the light until darkness pressed at his heels. Fear surged in his chest as he smelled a deadly scent. Smoke! Acrid clouds blasted over him, and he felt heat on his tail. Looking over his shoulder, he saw fire pierce the smoke. It was chasing him down like a fox driving prey. Alderheart dashed between trees, leaping fissures and branches. Terror scorched beneath his pelt as the roar of the flames drowned out the pounding of blood in his ears.

He saw rocks ahead. A steep cliff rose from the forest floor, its rough face lined by ledges and cracks. He could climb it. Hope sparking in his chest, he leaped for the lowest ledge and scrambled upward, blindly reaching for paw hold after paw hold until he felt fresh air around him. He heaved himself onto the top of the cliff. Flames tore through the trees below. Smoke swirled and billowed as the fire howled past. Safe on the rocks, Alderheart watched for the smoke to clear. The forest would be charred. Nothing could have survived such a fire.

A breeze caught the thinning smoke and stirred it into thin mist. As it dissolved, Alderheart blinked in surprise. Where blackened stumps should have been, he saw a vibrant meadow. Lush green grass trembled with life, brilliant in the sunshine. The tang of its freshness bathed Alderheart, so strong that it woke him. He blinked open his eyes, the dream still fresh, and stared from his nest into the shadows of the medicine den.

Dawn light was filtering through the entrance and reaching down through the gap where fresh water dripped into the pool. Leafpool’s nest was empty. So was Jayfeather’s. Alderheart lifted his head. Anxiety jabbed his belly. Something was wrong.

“Jayfeather?” As he called through the half-light, he saw the blind medicine cat crouching beside Puddleshine’s nest. Leafpool was beside him, bent over the ShadowClan medicine cat. Panic sparked through his pelt as he scrambled from his nest. “Is he okay?”

Jayfeather turned his blind blue gaze on him. “He’s having a seizure.”

Leafpool was pressing Puddleshine into his nest while the tom thrashed violently beneath her paws.

“Hold his hind legs still,” Jayfeather ordered.