Эрин Хантер - Path Of A Warrior

Shadowkit nodded. “When I have the vision again, I will try to find out,” he mewed earnestly.

Tawnypelt’s stomach lurched. She didn’t want to think about Shadowkit having that vision again. She remembered how he had thrashed and wailed, clearly in pain. “Since Shadowkit’s vision is of the Tribe,” she added, “we hoped that meant you would be able to help him, too.”

“He …” Dovewing hesitated, and Tawnypelt could tell she was trying to think of a way of describing Shadowkit’s fits without letting the kit know how worried they were about him. “Shadowkit says the visions make his head hurt—don’t they, Shadowkit? And then his body shakes and he falls down.”

“It makes him very tired,” Tawnypelt went on, keeping her voice as calm as Dovewing’s. We shouldn’t scare Shadowkit. She could tell from the glint of concern in Stoneteller’s eyes, though, that he realized how frightening Shadowkit’s reaction to the visions must be.

Stoneteller crouched down, his gaze level with Shadowkit’s. “I’ll have to see if I can help you with that—all right, Shadowkit?” Looking up at Dovewing and Tawnypelt, he added, “I think it’s best if I speak to Shadowkit alone for a little while.”

Dovewing hesitated, but Tawnypelt could see the trust in Shadowkit’s eyes as he gazed at Stoneteller. “It’ll be all right, Dovewing,” she murmured softly. “Come with me.”

She walked back toward the tunnel to the larger cave, and, after a moment, Dovewing followed.

There were more cats in the cave now that the sun was sinking toward the horizon. The prey-hunters and cave-guards who had been out on the mountain had returned for the night. Kits were chasing one another through the wide-open spaces of the cave, while the older cats shared tongues or chatted quietly.

Unfamiliar cats’ faces turned to watch Tawnypelt and Dovewing with interest, and the two Clan cats hesitated.

“Dovewing!” a friendly voice called, and then another.

“Is Jayfeather with you?”

“How is Lionblaze?”

Dovewing brightened. “Moss!” she called in greeting. “Sheer!”

Tawnypelt peered at the cats half-hidden by the cave’s shadows. Had it really been so long since she was here that she wouldn’t recognize any cat? She stepped closer. Among the elders, wasn’t that Bird That Rides the Wind?

“Tawnypelt!” a warm voice meowed, and a brown tabby she-cat rose gracefully to greet her.

“Brook!” Tawnypelt cried. “I’m so pleased to see you.” Beside Brook, she saw a familiar dark gray tom. “Stormfur, how are you?”

The two once-Clan cats made room for her to sit beside them. “We heard from Breeze that you two had arrived,” Stormfur explained. “I hope there’s nothing wrong back at the lake?”

“No, we had some difficulties, but things are all right now,” Tawnypelt mewed. Are they? she wondered. Yes. There is peace among the Clans, even if I’m not sure where my place is in the new ShadowClan. “Tigerheart is the leader of ShadowClan now,” she added. “He’s become Tigerstar. And he and Dovewing are mates.”

“The little kit belongs to Tigerstar and Dovewing, then? It must have been hard bringing a kit up through the mountain,” Brook commented.

“We wanted Stoneteller to have a look at him,” Tawnypelt explained. Changing the subject—their worries over Shadowkit weren’t hers to spread around—she added, “And you’ve had more than one litter of kits since I last saw you, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Stormfur proudly. “You met Breeze, and that’s her littermate, Feather of Flying Hawk, over there.” He gestured with his tail at a stone-gray cat practicing fighting moves with some other to-bes on the other side of the cave.

“And these are our first litter, Lark That Sings at Dawn and Pine That Clings to Rock,” Brook said.

Two cats sitting nearby broke off their conversation and dipped their heads politely to Tawnypelt.

“They were only kits the last time any cat from the Clans was here, but they’ve grown to be fine cave-guards.” Stormfur meowed.

“Like their father,” Brook added, and Stormfur purred and gave his chest fur a bashful lick.

“You seem very happy,” Tawnypelt told them both. It was true. Like the rest of the Tribe, they were a bit thinner than Clan cats, but their coats were sleek and their expressions full of warm contentment.

“We are,” Brook agreed. “Things have been good in the mountains.”

“You don’t miss the Clans?” Tawnypelt asked. Despite having lived in ThunderClan, Brook had been born in the Tribe and could be expected to be happy here. But Stormfur was a Clan cat, who had only stayed with the Tribe because of his love for Brook.

“Not really.” Stormfur wrapped his tail more comfortably around his hind paws. “It was an accident that I ever came here, but it was a lucky one. This is where I belong.”

“But they made you leave,” Tawnypelt pointed out, puzzled. The old Stoneteller had exiled Stormfur after he had led them in a disastrous battle. He and Brook had lived with ThunderClan for moons before they were finally able to return.

Stormfur shrugged. “I forgave Stoneteller for that long ago, and we were friends before he died. This place has been home in a way the Clans never were for me.”

“Why?” Tawnypelt was puzzled. “You were born in RiverClan.” As troubled as she’d felt in ShadowClan lately, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Was it possible for a cat to just … leave the place she’d always called home? And be happy somewhere else?

“I was a half-Clan cat,” Stormfur told her. “A paw in RiverClan, a paw in ThunderClan, and never quite accepted in either. Life is simpler here, without all the Clan rivalries and distrust. I mean, you’re a half-Clan cat, too. Didn’t you ever feel that way?”

“No,” Tawnypelt replied automatically. “I chose ShadowClan. I knew it was my home.” But is that true? She’d been born in ThunderClan and had left because she hadn’t felt they’d ever accept her. And she’d fought hard, determined to be a loyal ShadowClan warrior. But now ShadowClan was changing. Is it still my home?

“Tawnypelt’s deputy of ShadowClan now,” Dovewing put in, breaking off from her conversation with Snow.

“That’s great, Tawnypelt,” Brook purred warmly. “And Dovewing, now that you and Tigerstar are mates, you must be in ShadowClan, too.”

“Yes.” Dovewing looked down at her paws. “It was … hard leaving ThunderClan. We didn’t see for a long time how we could be together, not if we wanted to be accepted by either of our Clans.”

And so you left, Tawnypelt thought, with a pang of sympathy. And it took StarClan to bring you back.

“Clans,” Bird, the gray-brown elder, scoffed. “You cats at the lake only make trouble for yourselves by dividing into Clans. You should go where your heart lies.”

Once, Tawnypelt would have flicked her ears dismissively: What did a Tribe cat know about Clans? But now she stilled, doubts filling her. Where does my heart lie? she wondered. Is it still with ShadowClan … now that Rowanclaw is dead? And Dawnpelt and Flametail, too?

“Dovewing! Tawnypelt!” There was a patter of small paws, and Shadowkit flung himself between them. “The Cave of Pointed Stones is full of moonlight, and it’s so amazing!”

Tawnypelt felt her heart warm at the sight of the kit. He does hold a piece of my heart… .

Stoneteller followed Shadowkit across the cave. “I’ve been trying to read the signs the Tribe of Endless Hunting has for us,” he explained. “I still don’t know exactly what Shadowkit’s vision means, but I am sure that he’s seeing the Tribe and is here for a reason. We’ll keep working together to figure it out. And I hope we can also help him control the symptoms he’s been having with his visions.” Noticing that the cats around them were listening, he raised his voice a little. “In the meantime, Dovewing, Tawnypelt, and Shadowkit are our honored guests. And now it is time to eat.”