Эрин Хантер - Veil Of Shadows

“Okay,” Dewspring continued. “You’ve done well so far, but I did hear you creeping up. You breathe like a badger! This time, I want you to sneak up on me without me hearing a thing.”

He padded off for several paces and sat down with his back to Rootpaw, pretending to be very busy cleaning dirt out of his claws. Rootpaw examined the ground between them; it was littered with dead leaves, dry twigs, and odd-shaped pebbles. He knew that if he laid a paw on any of them, they would give him away by rustling or snapping or rolling over the earth.

I need to be clever.

Glancing around, he spotted a fallen tree that had lodged against the hillside at a steep angle. He realized that if he could reach the tree he could pad quietly to the other end and surprise Dewspring from above.

Rootpaw raised his head so that his whiskers could test the wind, and he was satisfied to find that it was blowing away from his mentor, who wouldn’t be able to scent him until it was too late. All he needed to do was to land on the tree trunk without making a sound.

I’ll only have one chance; I can’t miss when I make the leap.

Focusing every muscle on the jump, Rootpaw crouched low, coiling himself into a ball, then launched himself at the tree. Springing upward, he had time to arrange his paws in the air so that he could land as silently as a falling snowflake.

Wow, it worked! he thought triumphantly after he touched down on the tree bark. Then he padded cautiously along the trunk until he reached a spot where he could look down at his mentor. And this time I’m not breathing like a badger!

Dewspring seemed to have forgotten that he was only pretending to clean his claws. He was engrossed in dislodging a tiny splinter of twig from between his pads. Seeing his chance, Rootpaw leaped from his perch and landed with a thump on Dewspring’s shoulders, forcing him to the ground.

His mentor let out a gasp as he rolled away from Rootpaw. “Very good!” he meowed. “I didn’t hear you coming at all. How did you do that?”

Rootpaw waved his tail toward the fallen tree. “I came along there,” he explained. “I knew I’d be bound to make a noise if I tried creeping over all those dead leaves and stuff.”

Dewspring nodded, clearly impressed. “You were always a good apprentice,” he told Rootpaw, “but ever since you came back from the medicine cats’ den, your skills seem even sharper.”

Pleased at his praise, Rootpaw reflected that he might have improved because now he didn’t have an anxious ghost following him around and relentlessly demanding his attention.

It’s amazing what I can accomplish when I’m not distracted by a restless spirit!

But following the thought, Rootpaw immediately felt guilty. He knew that Bramblestar’s ghost hadn’t been following him just to annoy him or interfere with his training. He really needed help. But Rootpaw had no idea what he could do to help him—or bring him back. So there’s no point in ruining my chance to become a great warrior.

“As you know, Rootpaw,” Dewspring began, “Leafstar and I had decided that you would have your warrior assessment soon.”

Rootpaw felt his heart begin to pound harder, and his pads prickled with anticipation. It’s like Dewspring could hear my thoughts! “Yes . . . ,” he said, not sure what to expect. Sudden dread sent a shiver down his spine. They hadn’t changed their minds, had they?

“Well,” Dewspring continued, “you’ve impressed me with your skills today, and I see no reason to put off your assessment any longer. I’ll confirm it with Leafstar when we get back to camp, but I think we’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really?” Rootpaw gasped in excitement.

Dewspring grinned. “Really. There’s no sense in waiting when you’re clearly ready.”

Rootpaw let out a joyful yowl, springing straight up in the air. A few moments before, he had focused all his energy on being quiet. Now, as he and Dewspring headed to collect the voles he had caught earlier, he romped boisterously through the fallen leaves and grass.

“You’re making enough noise to drive all the prey deep underground,” Dewspring commented, though his tone was humorous and Rootpaw could tell he wasn’t angry at all.

By the time he and his mentor arrived back in camp, Rootpaw had managed to calm down a little, though excitement still thrilled through him. Once he had deposited his voles on top of the fresh-kill pile, he bounded over to Tree and Violetshine, who were sharing a squirrel a few tail-lengths away.

“I’m going to be a warrior!” he announced. “Dewspring says I can do my assessment tomorrow.”

“That’s excellent news,” his mother purred, leaning over to give Rootpaw’s ear a lick.

Tree’s eyes gleamed with approval, too, though he seemed slightly concerned as his gaze traveled over his son. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” he asked.

Rootpaw could see the reservation in his father’s eyes. It wasn’t so long ago that Tree had argued against staying in the Clans at all. When Rootpaw finally became a full warrior, it would tie him to the Clan in a way that would be hard to walk away from.

“Yes, absolutely ,” Rootpaw assured him eagerly. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be a warrior for my Clan.”

Tree nodded. “Good. In that case, I’m very happy for you.”

To Rootpaw’s relief, he could see that his father was being genuine. Perhaps the issue of whether to stay or leave the Clans was finally closed, once and for all.

“Congratulations!” Rootpaw turned to see his sister, Needleclaw, dashing toward him. “Dewspring just told me. I wonder what your warrior name will be.”

She plopped down beside Rootpaw and nuzzled his shoulder; Tree and Violetshine joined in too. Rootpaw thought it wasn’t possible to be any happier.

Curling up that night in his nest in the apprentices’ den, Rootpaw felt better than he had in a long time. Even though he could hear the wind howling outside, and his worries about Bramblestar still nagged at the back of his mind, all he could really think about was his assessment and how he had to make sure he did his best.

When at last he went to sleep, he fell instantly into a dream where he and Dewspring were in the middle of the forest. Dewspring was calling out battle moves for him. “Backward leap! Strike with forepaws! Underbelly dive!” Rootpaw performed them all perfectly.

But then Dewspring began yowling at Rootpaw to wake up. Rootpaw couldn’t understand him, because he was awake already. He was staring right at Dewspring.

“I don’t understand,” he meowed. “Is this another sort of test?”

But Dewspring didn’t explain. He just kept on calling Rootpaw’s name as he drew closer, and his gray pelt began to give off a silver glow. As Rootpaw gaped in astonishment, the light grew brighter and brighter until it was so dazzling that it blinded him. He let out a choking cry of terror and found himself startling awake in his den.

His chest heaving from the memory of the dream, Rootpaw needed a few heartbeats to be sure he wasn’t still in the woods. Wrenpaw was curled up asleep close by, and above his head Rootpaw could make out the arching ferns that formed the roof of the den. The wind had calmed, and dawn was creeping into the sky, but Rootpaw realized that wasn’t the only light. A warm glow was coming from behind him, casting his shadow forward. He turned around and saw that something was standing there.

No, not something . . . Some cat.

As the glow began to fade, Rootpaw was able to make out the cat’s features. He was a small, skinny tom with sleek black fur and intense yellow eyes. Rootpaw had the strange sense he had glimpsed him before, and he was sure of one thing. This cat is dead.