Эрин Хантер - Path Of A Warrior

“Sorry, Tawnypelt,” Shadowkit meowed. “I was just really excited.”

He looked happy, Tawnypelt realized. Not the focused, desperate expression he’d carried since he’d had his vision, but how a kit should look: bright eyes, shining pelt. He looked like the kit he’d been before the vision had first come. She looked up at Stoneteller and Dovewing, who were behind Shadowkit at a little distance.

“Shadowkit and I had a long discussion with our ancestors,” Stoneteller explained. “I think we’ve read their signs correctly, and they should help Shadowkit.”

“Which ancestors?” Tawnypelt asked. “StarClan or the Tribe of Endless Hunting?” StarClan watched over the Clans, and she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Shadowkit getting advice from the Tribe’s ancestors instead.

“Both,” Stoneteller said, his whiskers twitching as if he could see into Tawnypelt’s mind and thought her view was a funny one. “Shadowkit is very unusual. His powers stretch beyond borders, beyond the world that one cat can see.”

Tawnypelt felt her ears flattening. “It hurt him to see those visions of the Tribe,” she pointed out. “And how can he be a medicine cat for ShadowClan if he’s troubled with visions that aren’t about us?”

Shadowkit cuddled against her. “I’m fine now,” he purred. “I promise.”

Stoneteller looked down at the kit, affection clear on his face. “I can’t promise visions won’t hurt him again,” he admitted. “But I think what he and I have discussed will help. He’s a good kit. A strong kit. He will do much for ShadowClan.”

“Maybe Shadowkit will help to bring all five Clans together,” Dovewing suggested quietly. “Isn’t that what StarClan wants?”

Tawnypelt twitched her tail. A cat should be loyal to one Clan. But she pressed her muzzle to the top of Shadowkit’s head. He was very special. A warm surge of love filled her. The idea that had come to her in her dream—of staying with the Tribe—was nonsense. She could never leave Shadowkit. Or Tigerstar, or his other kits, or even Dovewing.

“I believe you will show us the way to a new ShadowClan, little one,” she purred softly, and Shadowkit nodded proudly.

“I want to be the best medicine cat ever,” he declared. “I’ll try my hardest.”

There was a small commotion at the cave entrance as the hunting party returned, bearing prey. Tawnypelt sniffed the air, the scent of rabbit making her mouth water.

“I’m starving ,” Shadowkit announced, bounding away from her and toward the hunting party.

“Now, Shadowkit, don’t be greedy,” Dovewing scolded, hurrying after him. “Wait your turn.”

“Oh, but he saved us all,” Brook mewed, dropping a fat mouse in front of him. “Shadowkit should eat first.”

“Thanks,” the kit said shyly. “Would you like to share prey with me?”

All the Tribe cats purred with delight at Shadowkit’s having learned their custom. “So polite!”

Young Breeze brought Tawnypelt a vole and plopped down next to her. “Shall we share prey?” she asked. Tawnypelt agreed, taking a bite of the vole and then exchanging it for Breeze’s rabbit haunch.

“I wanted to thank you again for saving me from the river yesterday,” Breeze meowed. “I will always be grateful. The whole Tribe will, for all the help you’ve given us.”

“We had to come,” Tawnypelt insisted. “The Tribe has assisted the Clans in the past, and we will help you whenever we can.” It was curious, she realized. In some ways, she felt closer to the cats of the mountain than she did to any of the other Clans by the lake.

“The Tribe and the Clans are like two trees that have grown around each other,” Stoneteller intoned. “Both are strong, and they are intertwined, but each has its own future. Still, the Clan cats will always be welcomed by the Tribe.”

“Thank you,” Tawnypelt mewed, feeling deeply touched. Dovewing’s and Shadowkit’s eyes shone as they also offered their thanks.

It seemed like too soon when it was time to go. The Tribe gathered around them, touching noses and offering affectionate farewells and advice for the return journey.

“Be careful in the mountains, little one,” Night advised Shadowkit.

“Watch out for eagles,” Moss added anxiously. “Here, let’s smear some mud on your fur. Then we’ll show you the best way down.”

Tawnypelt did her best to stay still as the Tribe cats smeared her pelt with cold mud, then moved to brush her cheek against Stoneteller’s. “Thank you so much for helping Shadowkit,” she said. “I think he’s on the right path now.” The kit seemed happier and lighter, bouncing between his new friends.

“And you, too, I think,” Stoneteller said, looking into Tawnypelt’s eyes. “You’ve found your path again, haven’t you?”

“I suppose I have,” Tawnypelt said. She could feel something deep inside, pulling her in the right direction. “The right path leads back to where my heart lies. Back to ShadowClan.”

She looked at the waterfall—so beautiful, so dangerous, but not her home. It was foolish to think it ever could be, she realized now. She couldn’t imagine a home without the feathery shadows of pine trees, their strong resin scenting the air. ShadowClan is where I belong.

She glanced at Dovewing, who nodded, looking pleased. Tawnypelt nodded back, and together, she and Dovewing, Shadowkit safely between them, turned toward the waterfall. It was time to go home.

Chapter Ten

Compared to the cold, sheer stone of the mountain during frozen-water, leaf-bare by the lake was almost warm. As they walked past the border with ThunderClan, Tawnypelt sniffed the air appreciatively. She could smell the familiar scent of the lake water and the trees, a hint of pine. There was a richness of prey, too, and the well-known scents of individual cats. The Clan territories smelled like home. Now that I’m here, she thought, I can’t imagine that I ever really wanted to leave.

“I think we’ll be back to ShadowClan’s camp before sunset,” she told Dovewing and Shadowkit. Shadowkit gave a hop of excitement and walked faster, but Dovewing’s steps slowed.

“Are you all right?” Tawnypelt asked her, concerned.

Dovewing stared down at the ground as she walked, her head hanging low. “Do you think Tigerstar will forgive me?” she asked quietly. “Do you think he’ll understand why we had to go?”

Tawnypelt felt an answering tightness in her chest. She had been trying not to think about the possibility that Tigerstar might still be angry with them. “I’m sure he’ll understand once he sees how much better Shadowkit looks,” she mewed hopefully.

“Maybe,” Dovewing said, sounding unconvinced.

Tigerstar loves Dovewing, Tawnypelt thought. And he respects her. Enough to be willing to leave ShadowClan. He’ll forgive her.

“Tigerstar is our leader,” she told Dovewing. “But you’re Shadowkit’s mother, and you had to do what was best for your kit. You made the right choice, and Tigerstar will see that. If not immediately, then soon.”

Dovewing’s ears perked up a little. “Thanks, Tawnypelt.”

“What are you doing?” Two ThunderClan cats—Fernsong and Rosepetal—suddenly approached from around a bush, and Tawnypelt’s fur bristled instinctively.

“We’re not on your territory,” she snapped.

“That’s not what I asked,” Fernsong retorted, twitching his tabby tail.

“We’re collecting herbs for Puddleshine,” Tawnypelt lied. Why should I tell a ThunderClan cat my business?

Fernsong looked dubious, but Dovewing broke in. “How are Ivypool and the kits?” she asked eagerly.