Эрин Хантер - The Raging Storm

Flypaw glared at her. “You want me to fail,” she accused. “That’s why you’re making it so hard. How am I meant to know what to do if you just keep knocking me off my paws?”

Twigbranch pressed back her frustration and tried to remember what it had been like when she’d first started training. It seemed such a long time ago. “Okay.” Forcing her mew to be gentle, she looked at Flypaw. “Place your paws like this.” Reaching out, she adjusted each of Flypaw’s legs until the young tabby was standing square and firm. “Now sink down into your pads, as though you’re as heavy as a badger.” She watched as Flypaw flexed, finding strength in her stance. “This time, I won’t come out of the bracken. You’ll see me leap. Just try to keep your balance.”

Flypaw nodded, her eyes dark with concentration.

At least she’s trying. Twigbranch took a few steps back, then leaped at Flypaw’s flank. It was a soft attack, but firm, and she pushed hard against Flypaw, relieved to feel resistance as she threw her weight against the young she-cat. Flypaw staggered, but kept low and didn’t fall.

Twigbranch dropped lightly back onto all fours. “Not bad,” she conceded. “Considering you knew the attack was coming. I’m not sure there’s enough strength in your legs to withstand a surprise attack, but we can work on that.”

“I thought she did well.” Finleap’s mew took Twigbranch by surprise. The brown tom padded toward them, Snappaw bouncing at his side. “She has a firm stance. And she’s smaller than you. But she still managed to stay on her paws.”

Twigbranch frowned at him. “I’m not sure she deserves that much praise,” she cautioned. “She’s got a lot to learn.”

“We’ve both got loads to learn.” Snappaw wove happily around his littermate. “It’s going to be fun! Finleap has already taught me how to dive under a cat’s belly. You should teach Flypaw how to do that. Finleap says it’s a useful technique for smaller cats. He says I’m a natural.”

“I’m not sure I’m a natural.” Flypaw’s ears twitched crossly.

“Of course you are!” Finleap reassured her. “With Lionblaze and Cinderheart as parents, how could you be anything else?”

Flypaw’s eyes brightened, and Twigbranch felt a twinge of irritation. If Finleap spoiled Flypaw with praise, would she even try to improve her skills? “There’s no such thing as a natural warrior,” she meowed curtly. “Skill comes with hard work and training.”

“ You must be very skilled. You trained for moons ,” Flypaw muttered.

The apprentice’s words stung. Twigbranch flattened her ears. She had only trained for so long because she had gone from one Clan to another. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been ready . “The first thing a warrior must learn is respect !”

Flypaw stared at the ground.

Finleap whisked his tail. “Why don’t you two clear the last few sticks?” He nodded to Flypaw and Snappaw. “Twigbranch and I are going to check the border. Meet us there when you’re done. We can show you how to lay markers. Is that okay with you, Twigbranch?” He didn’t give her a chance to agree, but nudged her out of the clearing and along the rabbit track that led to the ShadowClan border.

“Did you hear what she said to me?” Twigbranch was indignant. “That’s what you get when you praise them too much. Cheeky fox! I should have clawed her ears.”

“Do you want her to be scared of you?” Finleap didn’t look at Twigbranch as he padded at her side.

“She might listen to me more, if she were.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“She has the mind of a butterfly! Always distracted. Always wishing she were doing something else.”

“You’ve only been training her for three days,” Finleap reasoned. “She probably has strengths you haven’t seen yet.”

“I’ll never see them if you keep telling her she’s a natural!” Twigbranch huffed. “She won’t bother to learn.”

“I just wanted to encourage her.”

“Encourage your own apprentice,” Twigbranch snapped. “Leave mine alone.”

Finleap stopped and gazed solemnly at Twigbranch. “I’m just worried you’re being too sharp with her. You don’t want to discourage Flypaw before she’s learned anything. Don’t you remember how unhappy you were when Sparkpelt was hard on you?”

“That was different.” Twigbranch’s pelt pricked uncomfortably. Sparkpelt had been judgmental and unforgiving as a mentor when Twigbranch had rejoined ThunderClan. It had made her miserable. “Sparkpelt was just testing my loyalty.”

“Did your loyalty need testing?”

“No!” Twigbranch turned away. Mentoring was challenging enough without Finleap criticizing her. “I’m just doing what I think is right!”

“I know.” Finleap spoke softly. “It’s scary having so much responsibility. And these are our first apprentices. But it’s okay for us to make mistakes and it’s okay for them to make mistakes. We’re learning together.”

“But I’m supposed to know what to do.” A lump sat in Twigbranch’s throat like a stone.

“Why?” Finleap wove around her and stopped as he caught her eye. “You’re a great warrior, Twigbranch. And you’re kind. You don’t have to stop being kind just because you’re a mentor. Trust your instincts. Push Flypaw when she needs pushing, but encourage her too. You must know how good a little encouragement can feel when you’re facing something new and difficult.”

There was warmth in his gaze that touched Twigbranch’s heart. He really cared whether she’d be a good mentor. He wanted her to succeed. She purred and touched her nose to his.

“Besides,” he went on, “mentoring will teach us patience. Imagine what good parents we’ll be when we have kits.”

When we have kits! Twigbranch pulled away. Finleap’s gaze was misty. Was he really thinking about having kits already? They weren’t even mates yet. Twigbranch wasn’t ready to be tied to the nursery. She was barely ready to think about having a mate.

She changed the subject. “Let’s check the border.” She didn’t want to hurt Finleap’s feelings. “Flypaw! Snappaw! This way!” she called to the apprentices, scanning the bracken until they appeared, then turned and headed along the trail toward ShadowClan’s territory.

Flypaw caught up to her as she reached the scent line. “Is this the border?”

“Can’t you smell it?” Twigbranch opened her mouth and tasted the stench of ShadowClan mingling with ThunderClan scent.

Flypaw copied her, frowning with concentration. “Is that musky smell ShadowClan?”

“Yes.” Twigbranch followed the scent line. The markers were fresh. She stopped beside the root of a pine and left her own marker. “Leave your scent on the next tree,” she told Flypaw.

As Flypaw crouched beside the trunk, Finleap and Snappaw sniffed the trees a few tail-lengths away.

Finleap wrinkled his nose. “It smells like ShadowClan cats have been leaving scent marks twice a day.”

Twigbranch shrugged. “They’re probably just pleased to have their territory back.”

“I guess.” As Finleap padded to her side, Snappaw hurried ahead with Flypaw.

“Can we mark every tree?” Snappaw asked.

“It’s a long border,” Finleap told him. “Save some scent for farther along.”

Flypaw was sniffing a fern clump. Curled fronds poked up from the moist earth. “There are so many scents out here.” She turned to sniff between the roots of a tree where fresh grass was sprouting. Then she dug through a heap of rotting leaf mold and sniffed until she sneezed. “What does a mouse smell like?” she asked.