Эрин Хантер - Path Of A Warrior

Scorchfur shoved a wad of moss into a hole in the side of the den, then hissed with annoyance as it immediately fell out again.

“When you put the moss in, hold it there and wait for Stonewing to weave twigs through it to fix it into place,” Tawnypelt recommended.

Ignoring her, Scorchfur picked up the moss with his teeth and jammed it back into the hole. Irritation pricked up Tawnypelt’s spine.

“Stonewing, bring those twigs over here,” she snapped.

The white tom glanced at her, then away, shifting uneasily from one paw to another. “I’m working on this side,” he said.

Digging her claws into the sandy floor of the den, Tawnypelt tried to keep herself from ripping the two toms’ pelts off. “I told you—” she began.

“How’s it going in here?” Tigerstar stuck his head through the den’s entrance. Peering at the walls, he crouched and came all the way in. “You’ll make quicker progress if you work in pairs,” he suggested. “Stonewing, bring those twigs over here. Scorchfur can hold the moss in place and you can weave the twigs through it. It’ll make for a warmer den.”

Scorchfur and Stonewing looked at each other. “Okay,” Stonewing said, and bent to pick up the twigs at his paws.

Hot rage shot through Tawnypelt, so sudden and violent that it frightened her. “I’m taking a break,” she announced, and hurried out of the den. She didn’t stop until she reached the fresh-kill pile, breathing hard.

It’s fine, she tried to tell herself. They don’t have to listen to me. What matters is that ShadowClan has its territory back, and we’re in our own camp again.

When Rowanstar had decided to give up his role as ShadowClan’s leader, she’d wanted very badly to hold her Clan together. But after the battles with Darktail and his Kin, there had been so few ShadowClan warriors left that Rowanstar had felt they’d had to join SkyClan to survive. He’d stopped being a leader, become Rowanclaw again. And then he’d died, trying to save a Clanmate’s kits. Tawnypelt’s grief had been so overwhelming that Tigerstar’s return, and the return of several Clanmates they’d given up for lost, had seemed like a gift.

But reviving a Clan was hard. Rowanclaw was still dead. Some of the ShadowClan cats still resented him for decisions he’d made when Darktail had invaded their territory. And they resented Tawnypelt for standing by him, for loving him.

Some of those same cats betrayed him by joining Darktail, she thought bitterly. Do I even want them as my Clanmates?

Sighing, Tawnypelt picked up a mouse and sat down outside the nursery to eat. I need to be patient.

“Sweet little kits,” she could hear Dovewing purr from inside the nursery. “If I get mine down to sleep, will you watch them while I grab some prey?”

“Sure,” Berryheart sounded distracted. “Does Hollowkit look like he’s getting a cold?”

“He’s fine; don’t worry,” Dovewing said.

Irritation rose up in Tawnypelt again. Doesn’t she care if a ShadowClan kit is ill?

Dovewing hadn’t lifted a paw to help with the camp rebuilding. Yes, her kits were still in the nursery, but they were almost apprentice age; they didn’t need her with them constantly. Dovewing could help if she wanted to.

But why should she? Dovewing’s a ThunderClan cat, even if she’s living in ShadowClan now.

Tawnypelt had been born in ThunderClan, too, but once she had chosen ShadowClan as an apprentice, she had been a ShadowClan cat through and through. More fierce and loyal, with more to prove, than cats who had always been part of the Clan. She doubted that Dovewing felt the same.

Tawnypelt had tried to like her son’s mate, but sometimes she thought that Dovewing’s presence was just another sign that ShadowClan had fallen apart. What would Rowanclaw have said about Tigerstar taking a ThunderClan cat as his mate?

“Are you all right?” Tigerstar’s voice startled her. He had followed her out of the warriors’ den and was padding cautiously toward her.

“I’m fine.” Tawnypelt took a bite of mouse.

“You’ve seemed irritated since I’ve come back,” Tigerstar said, sitting down beside her. He hesitated, then went on. “I know some of the Clan wanted you to take over as leader. If you were angry that I became leader instead, I would understand.”

Tawnypelt sighed, the frustration draining out of her. Tigerstar was trying so hard . “That’s not it,” she said. “I’m glad you’re leader. You have a better chance of making ShadowClan whole again than I would have. But I feel …” She paused, remembering with a sting how the younger warriors had ignored her suggestions earlier. That never would have happened in the old ShadowClan. She took a deep breath and finished, “I’m just not sure how I fit into our Clan now.”

Tigerstar stared at her in surprise. “You’re very important to our Clan,” he insisted. “You’re my deputy.”

“Not if no one listens to me,” Tawnypelt told him.

The fur began to bristle along Tigerstar’s back. “If any cat thinks they don’t have to listen to you, I’ll make them listen,” he said fiercely.

“Getting angry isn’t going to make them accept me,” Tawnypelt said. “A lot of ShadowClan cats were furious at Rowanclaw, and some of them had reason to be. Maybe I’m too much of a reminder of a time ShadowClan needs to forget.”

Tigerstar flicked his tail dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “If I—”

“Help! Help me!” Tawnypelt’s pelt prickled as Dovewing’s desperate yowl cut through Tigerstar’s words. It came from the nursery behind them.

Tigerstar leaped to his feet and dashed for the den’s entrance, Tawnypelt a few paces behind.

“It’s Shadowkit! Help!” Dovewing cried. Tawnypelt put on a burst of speed and caught up with Tigerstar; they pushed their way through the nursery’s entrance together.

On the floor of the nursery, Shadowkit was shaking, his small limbs flailing as if he was caught in a nightmare. His littermates and Yarrowleaf, Berryheart, and their kits were pressed against the walls of the nursery, staring at him in horror.

Dovewing, crouched beside Shadowkit, looked up, her green eyes desperate. “I can’t get him to wake up.”

Chapter Two

In the medicine cat’s den, Tawnypelt gazed down at Shadowkit. He looked so small, all by himself in the nest. Once the kit’s fit had passed and he’d regained a groggy consciousness, they’d brought him here for Puddleshine, the ShadowClan medicine cat, to examine him. Dovewing and Tigerstar had sat by his nest all through the night.

It was morning now, and they’d asked Tawnypelt to watch over him while Dovewing checked on their other kits and Tigerstar spoke to the rest of the Clan. Puddleshine, who’d spent all night trying to find the cause of Shadowkit’s sudden illness, was curled tightly in his own nest, catching a short nap while Shadowkit slept.

Bending over Shadowkit’s nest, Tawnypelt pressed her cheek against the small gray tabby’s. His milky kit scent was mixed with the rich pine scent of all ShadowClan cats, which Tawnypelt inhaled with relief. These kits had been born in a faraway Twolegplace,, but they were ShadowClan now, and they always would be. I’m still getting to know you, but I do love you, little one, Tawnypelt thought helplessly. I will protect you, she added silently.

Shadowkit’s eyelids fluttered. “It’s falling,” he whimpered. “We have to stop it; it’s falling.”

“What’s falling, little kit?” Tawnypelt kept her voice soft.

Shadowkit’s eyes opened wider, and his amber gaze was sleepy but full of anxiety. “There’s something I have to do,” he murmured. “I’m not sure what … but if I don’t, cats will get hurt. Cats will die .” His mew was desperate.