Эрин Хантер - Lost Stars

He had barely rejoined his Clanmates when there was a stir of movement at the mouth of the bramble tunnel. Dovewing appeared, with Cinnamontail and Blazefire just behind her and the rest of the patrol following. Puddleshine brought up the rear, a few stalks of catmint in his jaws.

Tigerstar emerged from his den to meet the returning cats in the middle of the camp. Shadowpaw padded up to listen, and several more of his Clanmates gathered around.

“Well?” Tigerstar asked. “What happened?”

“My patrol met these two crossing the border.” Dovewing angled her ears toward Blazefire and Cinnamontail. “Crossing back into our territory. They’d been in the Twolegplace.”

“I spotted them lurking around a Twoleg den,” Puddleshine added, speaking around his mouthful of herbs. “I made them come back to camp with me.”

Tigerstar let out a hiss of fury, and glared at the two straying cats with narrowed eyes. “And why were you there?” he demanded.

Cinnamontail scuffled her forepaws in the earth. “Dunno,” she mumbled. “We sort of thought it might be a good place to hunt.”

“Really?” Tigerstar snarled with a lash of his tail. “Now tell me something I’m going to believe.”

Blazefire took a deep breath. “Honestly, we didn’t mean to do it,” he began. “We were just walking in the forest, trying to keep warm, and tasting the air for prey—only there wasn’t any. And then we picked up this other scent, coming from the Twolegplace. It smelled of food. . . .” His voice died away miserably.

“Have I got this straight?” Tigerstar asked. His voice was soft, but Shadowpaw knew how angry his father was. “You went into the Twolegplace to get Twolegs to give you food?”

“Oh, no!” Cinnamontail protested, her eyes wide. “We would never do that. But you know how they throw food away, delicious food, in scrapcans! We thought we could just . . . It’s almost like hunting,” she finished.

“And we were so hungry,” Blazefire added. “You remember, there was always lots of food to be found in the Twolegplace, and even though this Twolegplace isn’t as big, we thought it would be stupid to ignore it.”

“Scavenging from a Twolegplace is not the way of a warrior,” Tigerstar told them, his ears laid back and his pelt bristling with rage. “If that’s what you want to do, maybe you should go and be kittypets, or loners living in the Twolegplace! Then you can find all the food you like. I had thought you both were learning to be strong warriors . . . which means hunting for your food!”

Cinnamontail and Blazefire exchanged a dismayed glance.

“We don’t want that,” Blazefire protested. “We love being part of a Clan. Now we know how to defend ourselves properly, and that there are lots of cats who are loyal to us, who look out for us.”

“We were just so hungry,” Cinnamontail finished.

“Every cat is hungry,” Tigerstar growled, “because prey is scarce. That’s how it is in leaf-bare. But if you come to rely on finding food in the Twolegplace, you’ll forget how to provide for yourselves through hunting. You’ll be weaker warriors, and that means a weaker Clan.”

“We’re really sorry,” Cinnamontail mewed, while Blazefire nodded fervently in agreement.

“‘Sorry’ fills no bellies,” Tigerstar snapped.

Cloverfoot, the Clan deputy, who had been listening closely, stepped up to Tigerstar’s side. “There’s no telling how a cat will react in conditions like these,” she pointed out. “And this is Blazefire’s and Cinnamontail’s first leaf-bare in a Clan. I don’t think we should be too hard on them.”

Tigerstar nodded slowly and took a moment to ponder, while the two straying cats waited, their tension visible in their working claws and quivering whiskers.

“Please don’t send us away!” Blazefire burst out after a few heartbeats.

“No, I won’t do that,” Tigerstar meowed. “I’m tempted to send you out to scrape fresh earth over the dirtplace, but I won’t do that, either. But since you’ve eaten Twoleg food today, you’ll take nothing from the fresh-kill pile until tomorrow. And you’ll go out on a hunting patrol every sunrise from now until the next Gathering.”

“Oh, thank you!” Cinnamontail exclaimed, her eyes shining in relief.

“We’ll never do it again,” Blazefire promised.

“You’d better not,” Tigerstar retorted. “Because if you ever do behave so selfishly again, you’ll wish you’d never left your big Twoleg den. Is that clear?”

Chastened, both cats nodded, and they stood with heads bowed as Tigerstar stalked off.

As the rest of the Clan broke up, Shadowpaw noticed that Puddleshine looked agitated. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I need to ask Tigerstar if he’ll organize extra hunting patrols so that Grassheart can have more food,” he replied. “She needs to keep her strength up.”

Shadowpaw wasn’t sure if his father would agree to that, not after all he had said about prey being scarce, and how important it was for cats not to be selfish. But he said nothing. There’s no harm in Puddleshine asking.

Still carrying the precious leaves of catmint, Puddleshine bounded after Tigerstar and caught up with the Clan leader.

Curious to hear what his father would say, Shadowpaw drifted after him, closer to Tigerstar’s den.

Even before he came within earshot, he could see from Tigerstar’s bristling fur and the gruff sound of his voice that he wasn’t sympathetic to what Puddleshine was asking. Finally he heard his father meow, “Leaf-bare or not, I can’t risk cats overextending themselves on hunts. If I did, the rest of the Clan would end up in your den with Grassheart. And then where would we be?”

Puddleshine dipped his head respectfully; Shadowpaw could see that he wasn’t happy with the Clan leader’s decision, but he didn’t try to argue anymore.

Before his mentor could see that he had been eavesdropping, Shadowpaw headed back to his den, but as he passed the pool in the center of the camp, he spotted his sister Lightleap waving her tail at him.

“Hey, Shadowpaw! Come and play with us,” she called.

Intrigued, Shadowpaw trotted over. Pouncestep was there, too; both his littermates sprang to their paws as he joined them.

“We thought we’d have a play fight,” Pouncestep meowed. “It’ll keep us warm.”

“Do you think I’m mouse-brained?” Shadowpaw asked, his tail curling up in amusement. “I’m not trained like you. You’d claw my fur off.”

“No, we’ll go easy on you, promise,” Lightleap assured him. “Come on! It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll be a badger, invading the camp,” Pouncestep suggested. “And you two can be warriors trying to drive me out.”

“Okay!” Lightleap reared up onto her hind paws and swiped at her sister’s muzzle, her claws sheathed. “Get out of here, filthy badger!”

Pouncestep let out a fearsome growl. “I’m a huge, scary badger, and I’m going to eat you!”

Trying to get into the spirit of the fight, Shadowpaw leaped forward and butted his head into his sister’s shoulder. Pouncestep whipped around, lashing out at him with one paw, but Shadowpaw dodged to one side, and the blow never landed. Shadowpaw felt pride shimmering from his pelt. Did I just dodge a trained warrior?

While she was distracted, Lightleap jumped in and rolled her sister over, battering at her belly with all four paws. Shadowpaw watched Pouncestep trying to shove her off, then crept up from behind Pouncestep’s head and slammed both paws down on her shoulders.

“I think we’ve trapped this badger,” he mewed to Lightleap. “What should we do with it?”

“Shove it out of camp,” Lightleap replied, beginning to push her sister across the ground toward the camp entrance.