Эрин Хантер - Path Of A Warrior

“Snow?” Dovewing called back. With a thump, a white she-cat, her fur barely visible beneath a coat of mud, landed in front of them.

“This is Dovewing,” she said to the younger she-cat. “She comes from the Clans, far away in the flatlands. She’s a friend to the Tribe.” Turning to Tawnypelt, she dipped her head and held out a paw in a gesture Tawnypelt remembered from her last visit to the Tribe. “I am Snow Falling on Stones, and this is Breeze That Rustles the Leaves, a cave-guard to-be.”

Tawnypelt dipped her head to them in response and introduced herself and Shadowkit. “I came here with Stormfur, a long time ago, and then with the Clans when we journeyed to our new home,” she added.

“You know Stormfur?” Breeze’s ears perked up. “He and Brook are my parents!”

“We both know your parents well,” Tawnypelt mewed. Stormfur, born a RiverClan cat, and Brook, born in the Tribe, had lived with ThunderClan by the lake for a while before going back to the Tribe at last.

“You must be a younger sister of Lark and Pine,” Dovewing commented. “They were kits the last time I saw them. And Snow, you were a to-be when I was here before, but I guess now you’re a cave-guard?”

“Yes, I am. We were patrolling the border,” Snow said, with a concerned glance at Shadowkit. “But I think getting you back to the cave is more important.” She looked up at two cat faces still peering down at them from above. “Moss! Night! Meet us by the thornbush.”

As they followed Snow back through the icy crevice between the boulders, Breeze looked down at Shadowkit. “Are you all right to walk a little farther?” she asked.

Shadowkit waded through the snow with his head held high. “I’m very strong and brave,” he told her. “I’m a ShadowClan cat.” Despite the icy wind, Tawnypelt was warmed by the pride in his mew.

Snow glanced at Dovewing. “Our kits stay in the cave until they become to-bes,” she said with a trace of accusation. “It’s dangerous out on the mountain, especially during frozen-water.”

“I know,” Dovewing replied solemnly. “Our kits usually stay in camp until they’re old enough to be apprenticed, too, but this is important. We have to talk to Stoneteller.”

The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached the pool at the bottom of the waterfall at last. A steady wall of water crashed down the mountainside, its thunder so loud that Tawnypelt’s ears rang.

“It’s beautiful,” Shadowkit murmured, staring up at it. Sunshine reflected off the falling water, making it shimmer. Where the waterfall pounded into the pool below, a cloud of white mist rose all around, dampening the cats’ fur. Shadowkit turned to peer up into Tawnypelt’s face with anxious amber eyes. “But so dangerous.”

“Do you recognize it?” Tawnypelt asked, hoping that the kit would say yes. I need to know this is right. “Is it the place from your vision?”

The kit squinted at the waterfall and then sighed. “I’m not sure. I only saw part of it… .”

Tawnypelt remembered how Shadowkit had trembled and called out, “It’s falling!” He’d been seeing a tree going over this waterfall, hurting the Tribe. As they helped Shadowkit up the rocks that led behind the waterfall to the cave’s entrance, she and Dovewing exchanged a worried look.

The Tribe of Rushing Water’s cave was just as she remembered it. It rose high, as high as the top of the waterfall, and long fangs of rock grew down from the ceiling, high above them. Sunlight shone through the waterfall, giving everything a flickering, dreamlike quality.

I was so young the last time I was here, Tawnypelt thought. She and Rowanclaw hadn’t become mates yet; she had barely become a warrior. She and her companions had shared a single focus: finding the Clans a new home. It was frightening then, but it’s good to look back on. Our whole lives were ahead of us.

Around the edges of the cave, small groups of cats chatted or shared tongues. They quieted as the Clan cats followed the cave-guards into the cave, some standing to get a better look at them. Shadowkit looked around curiously, his eyes bright.

“Dovewing? Tawnypelt? ” A long-legged gray tom hurried toward them, his tail twitching excitedly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Crag!” Tawnypelt cried. “I mean, Stoneteller.” She had heard that Crag Where Eagles Nest was now the Teller of the Pointed Stones. But it was hard to believe that the earnest young cave-guard she had met on her first visit was now the Tribe’s leader and healer, their link to the ancestors who guided them, the Tribe of Endless Hunting.

“It is good to see you both, and to meet this fine kit,” Stoneteller mewed warmly after Dovewing had introduced Shadowkit. “But what brings you here?”

Dovewing’s gaze was earnest. “Stoneteller, my son had a vision that we think concerns your Tribe. You need to know what he saw, and we hope that you can help him, too.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Tawnypelt saw that the eyes of the Tribe were fixed on them. “Can we talk in private?” she asked, dropping her voice.

“Of course. Follow me.” Stoneteller turned, heading for a narrow tunnel entrance in the side of the cave.

Inside the next cave, Shadowkit gazed around in wonder, staring at the pale pointed stones that grew up from the floor or down from the ceiling, some meeting in the middle to form what looked like thin, twisted trees. Sunlight fell from a crack high in the cave’s roof, throwing long shadows across the floor and glinting off the small pools of water that lay here and there between the stones.

“What is this place?” Shadowkit asked, his eyes wide. He stepped out from between Tawnypelt and Dovewing for the first time, wandering forward to look up at the rocky ceiling and tentatively dabble a paw in a cool puddle of water.

“This is the Cave of Pointed Stones,” Stoneteller explained calmly. “I read the signs of nature here. The fall of a cobweb, the sound of a bird’s cry, and the glimmer of moonlight on water all have meaning. In this way, I can understand the guidance of our ancestors, the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”

Shadowkit’s ears perked. “So you’re like a medicine cat?”

“Sort of,” Dovewing told him. “Stoneteller is the healer for the Tribe and he speaks to their ancestors, but he’s also the leader who tells everyone what to do, like Tigerstar does.”

“Wow!” The kit looked at Stoneteller with respect. “That’s a big job!”

Tawnypelt and Dovewing both purred with amusement. Stoneteller brushed his tail across the kit’s back. “I can tell you’re a smart kit,” he said. He looked at Dovewing. “He’s got a strong spirit, despite his small size.”

“I’m going to be a medicine cat,” Shadowkit said calmly. “StarClan lets me see things that other cats can’t.”

Stoneteller sat down near the largest puddle, his eyes thoughtful. “Is this why you’ve come?” he asked.

Dovewing and Tawnypelt looked at each other. “Like Dovewing said, Shadowkit has been having visions we think are about your Tribe,” Tawnypelt began.

“They are, I’m sure of it,” Shadowkit broke in. “The waterfall looks just like in my vision.” He looked up at Stoneteller appealingly. “There was a huge, huge tree. And it came right over the waterfall and part of it went into the cave and hurt cats . You have to protect them.”

Stoneteller looked worried. “Did your vision give you any clues about when this will happen?” Shadowkit shook his head, and Stoneteller went on. “I believe that you saw this, but there are no big trees near the waterfall that could fall like that. It’s mostly scraggly thorn trees and bushes so high on the mountain. And I can’t tell the Tribe to leave the cave during frozen-water, not without knowing for how long. It’s too dangerous and cold without our cave’s protection.”