Эрин Хантер - Path Of A Warrior

Past the waterfall, things were no better. The combination of the storm and the pounding of the waterfall was deafening, and the cats huddled together miserably, straining to hear Stoneteller’s yowl.

Stoneteller looked down at Shadowkit, his gaze trusting. “Now what?” he asked, raising his voice above the howl of the wind and the steady pounding of the water.

Shadowkit shut his eyes for a moment, shivering with cold.

He’s too young, Tawnypelt thought, her heart heavy with doubt and worry. He doesn’t know what these visions mean.

Then Shadowkit opened his eyes. “We have to get to the riverbank,” he announced without a trace of doubt. With his tail, he gestured to a steep, narrow trail that wound up the cliff beside the waterfall.

Up there? Tawnypelt thought with horror. The path, which looked like it would be treacherous and slippery at the best of times, was awash in rushing, muddy water.

“Are you sure ?” Stormfur turned to Stoneteller, his face full of dismay and his voice almost a howl. “That’s a dangerous path!”

“ All of us?” one of the nursing kit-mothers wailed. “We can’t take the kits up there!”

Shadowkit wheeled to face her, his eyes wide and sure. “It’ll be more dangerous for any cat who stays down here,” he yowled.

“We must do this,” Stoneteller said with a calm certainty. “I will go first.” He stepped toward the path.

Stormfur stared at him for a moment, and then sighed and shook his pelt. “Right,” he yowled. “A couple of strong cave-guards right behind Stoneteller. Kits and kit-mothers and elders—and you, Tawnypelt, you’re not used to the mountains—in the middle. Swiftest prey-hunters right behind them: You’re fast and sure enough to catch a falling kit. More cave-guards at the back. Nose to tail, and be ready to grab any cat who slips.”

Shivering, water dripping from their fur, the cats followed his direction. The kit-mothers crouched, letting their kits climb up onto their backs, and Dovewing lowered her belly to the ground, too. “Shadowkit, hold on to me with all your strength,” she warned as he scrambled onto her back.

The path was rough beneath Tawnypelt’s paws, small stones and grit slipping under her so that it was impossible to get any kind of grip on the rocks. Dovewing’s tail brushed her nose, and Tawnypelt’s muscles tensed, ready to leap to the rescue if Dovewing or Shadowkit slipped. She could feel Brook close behind and was grateful for her, and for the Tribe cats following her—without them, it would be a long, painful fall back down if she slipped.

It was a difficult climb, even harder than she would have predicted. Her claws ached from trying to find a hold on the rocks, and ice-cold water streamed over her face, almost blinding her, and dripped from her whiskers.

Once, a cat ahead of her slipped and skidded a few tail-lengths back, knocking the cats behind her one into the other. Dovewing fell back onto Tawnypelt, who felt her own paws skidding backward into Brook.

But no cat fell, and a moment later they were all pressing forward again, straining against the wind and rain.

At last, her paws sore and her soaking fur plastered against her sides, Tawnypelt followed Dovewing as the path led them to a thin strip of level ground above the waterfall.

Almost touching their paws, the stream rushed past, swollen to river size and overflowing its banks, then plummeted over the cliff. Leaves and sticks were swept along by the current, speeding past the cats before disappearing swiftly down the waterfall. Dovewing crouched to let Shadowkit off her back and then herded him away from the water’s edge, placing herself between her kit and the tumultuous water.

“Now what?” Stormfur yowled.

Shadowkit stepped forward. “This is the place,” he said, looking around. “We have to pile rocks in the stream. If we can build a strong enough barrier, we can stop the tree from falling.”

“ What tree?” Night wailed, and turned to Stoneteller. “This is crazy. The water’s too strong; we can’t get into it.”

“The Tribe of Endless Hunting wouldn’t have set us an impossible task,” Stoneteller meowed. “Shadowkit has seen what we must do.”

There was a long moment of hesitation. The Tribe cats stared at Stoneteller, their thin sides rising and falling quickly beneath their soaked and matted fur.

“There’s no time to waste!” Shadowkit yowled, but no cat moved.

I believe in Shadowkit, Tawnypelt thought. There was a rock that rose almost to her shoulder by the edge of the stream, and she braced her paws against it and pushed. The stone shifted. Gathering her strength, she pushed again, and the rock slid toward the river.

Another pelt brushed hers. “Together,” Dovewing meowed, and put her paws beside Tawnypelt’s on the rock. They heaved, and the stone tumbled into the river. Behind her, Tawnypelt sensed the other cats moving. A little farther upstream, Stormfur’s stocky shoulders worked as he forced a boulder into the water. Lark and Pine were working together. Every cat was scrabbling at the surface of the banks, working their paws beneath the stones to loosen them, shoving with legs and flanks. They were soaked, exhausted, and plastered with mud, but determined.

“Faster! Please!” Shadowkit yowled, pacing back and forth beside the river.

As more rocks were pushed into the edges of the water, the current changed, flowing faster still as it was forced into a narrower channel. Tawnypelt began to roll another rock farther into the river. As she stepped into the water, the current slammed into her, pushing her hard against the rock. She braced herself and moved on, her side aching from the blow. Stormfur followed her, shoving a rough chunk of stone ahead of him, and a broad-shouldered cave-guard came behind him.

Stoneteller was in the water, too, his eyes slitted against the storm, fiercely determined.

We’re doing it. Already, a line of stones ran almost all the way across the river, water splashing against and pouring over them.

“Roll one along here,” Breeze yowled. The to-be was right in the middle of the river. A wave of water washed over her back, but she braced herself and waded toward the rock Night was pushing toward her.

Suddenly, a fresh wave of water hit Breeze head-on. The to-be slipped and disappeared under the surface.

“Breeze!” Brook yowled in horror from the riverbank. The young cat’s head popped up and she gasped for breath before being pulled under again and swept quickly toward the waterfall.

“Breeze!” Brook and Stormfur and several other cats plunged into the water, but Tawnypelt was closest. Diving forward, she sank her teeth into the scruff of Breeze’s neck. The weight of the to-be’s struggling body made her stagger a few steps toward the waterfall, her stomach lurching with fear. Bracing her legs against the bottom of the river, she steadied. Dragging Breeze with her, Tawnypelt fought her way to shallower water, where Breeze was able to get her paws under her again.

“Th-th-thanks,” Breeze stammered, shivering with cold.

“You saved her!” Brook yowled, wading out to them and looking her daughter over for injuries.

“We can never thank you enough, Tawnypelt,” Stormfur said solemnly, brushing his cheek against hers. At the joy in her old friend’s eyes, Tawnypelt felt warm inside despite the freezing-cold water soaking her fur.

“There’s no time!” Shadowkit was staring upstream, his amber eyes wide and his fur fluffed out into spikes. Instinctively, Tawnypelt and the other cats turned to follow his gaze.

The horizon seemed dark and empty. “What is—” Dovewing began to ask.

CRACK! Thunder boomed at the same time as a flash of bright white light dazzled them, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the water in the distance. Tawnypelt’s fur stood on end, the fizz of lightning running through her. “That was close,” she muttered.