Эрин Хантер - Crowfeather's Trial

“That was a great Gathering,” Harespring remarked, blinking in satisfaction. “It’s good that there’s peace among all the Clans.”

“Yes,” Crowfeather agreed. “Now there’s time for the Clans to grow strong, unthreatened by one another.”

For several heartbeats Onestar was silent; his eyes were dark and inward-looking. “Are you okay?” Harespring asked him.

Onestar glanced at Harespring, then at Crowfeather, and then at his own paws, padding steadily uphill. “I don’t know how long there will be peace in the Clans,” he mewed softly. “I can’t shake off the feeling that something bad is coming.”

“Do you know what ?” Harespring asked his Clan leader.

Onestar shook his head. “No,” he responded, shivering. “But sometimes I have bad dreams.”

Crowfeather remembered Kestrelflight’s vision of water gushing from the tunnels, strong enough to overwhelm and drown all the Clans. I’ve thought all along that the stoats weren’t enough to explain such a terrible sign, he thought with a sudden quaking in his belly. What if I’m right? What if there is a second wave that will engulf us all?

They returned to the camp, and Crowfeather curled up in his nest. In spite of Onestar’s misgivings, he felt at peace. WindClan had learned a lesson: We must trust the other Clans.

Sinking into sleep, Crowfeather dreamed that he was lying in a sunny hollow on the moor, with the scents of fresh growth filling the air. Healthy, boisterous kits were swarming all over him, batting at him with their soft paws and letting out excited squeaks as they tumbled about. One of them, he noticed, had Heathertail’s wide blue eyes, while two of the others were as black as Breezepelt.

“Oof! Get off!” Crowfeather exclaimed, batting gently at them with claws sheathed.

“You’re a badger!” one of the kits squealed. “And we’re warriors coming to get you!”

“Yeah, get off our territory, stinky badger!” Another of them dug his paws deep into Crowfeather’s fur.

One of the kits, more adventurous than the rest, was heading off across the moor. Nightcloud intercepted her and guided her back toward her littermates. Breezepelt and Heathertail, their tails twined together, looked on with laughter in their eyes.

Crowfeather had never known such feelings of deep happiness and peace. Looking up, he saw a cloud above him suddenly shift into a familiar shape. Ashfoot’s face was looking down at him, and Crowfeather basked in the pride and love in her expression.

Thank you, Ashfoot, he thought. You taught me what I needed to learn. Everything I endured brought me to this, to give me something to fight for in WindClan.

And if trouble does come, he added to himself, then WindClan will deal with it. After the Great Battle, and the fight against the stoats, there’s surely no threat that our Clan can’t face.

READ ON FOR AN EXCLUSIVE MANGA ADVENTURE . . .

CREATED BY

ERIN HUNTER

WRITTEN BY

DAN JOLLEY

ART BY

JAMES L. BARRY

Excerpt from Bravelands: Broken Pride

HEED THE CALL OF THE WILD . . .

A NEW ERIN HUNTER ADVENTURE BEGINS

CHAPTER ONE

Swiftcub pounced after the vulture’s shadow, but it flitted away too quickly to follow. Breathing hard, he pranced back to his pride. I saw that bird off our territory , he thought, delighted. No rot-eater’s going to come near Gallantpride while I’m around!

The pride needed him to defend it, Swiftcub thought, picking up his paws and strutting around his family. Why, right now they were all half asleep, dozing and basking in the shade of the acacia trees. The most energetic thing the other lions were doing was lifting their heads to groom their nearest neighbors, or their own paws. They had no idea of the threat Swiftcub had just banished.

I might be only a few moons old, but my father is the strongest, bravest lion in Bravelands. And I’m going to be just like him!

“Swiftcub!”

The gentle but commanding voice snapped him out of his dreams of glory. He came to a halt, turning and flicking his ears at the regal lioness who stood over him.

“Mother,” he said, shifting on his paws.

“Why are you shouting at vultures?” Swift scolded him fondly, licking at his ears. “They’re nothing but scavengers. Come on, you and your sister can play later. Right now you’re supposed to be practicing hunting. And if you’re going to catch anything, you’ll need to keep your eyes on the prey, not on the sky!”

“Sorry, Mother.” Guiltily he padded after her as she led him through the dry grass, her tail swishing. The ground rose gently, and Swiftcub had to trot to keep up. The grasses tickled his nose, and he was so focused on trying not to sneeze, he almost bumped into his mother’s haunches as she crouched.

“Oops,” he growled.

Valor shot him a glare. His older sister was hunched a little to the left of their mother, fully focused on their hunting practice. Valor’s sleek body was low to the ground, her muscles tense; as she moved one paw forward with the utmost caution, Swiftcub tried to copy her, though it was hard to keep up on his much shorter legs. One creeping pace, then two. Then another.

I’m being very quiet, just like Valor. I’m going to be a great hunter. He slunk up alongside his mother, who remained quite still.

“There, Swiftcub,” she murmured. “Do you see the burrows?”

He did, now. Ahead of the three lions, the ground rose up even higher, into a bare, sandy mound dotted with small shadowy holes. As Swiftcub watched, a small nose and whiskers poked out, testing the air. The meerkat emerged completely, stood up on its hind legs, and stared around. Satisfied, it stuck out a pink tongue and began to groom its chest, as more meerkats appeared beyond it. Growing in confidence, they scurried farther away from their burrows.

“Careful now,” rumbled Swift. “They’re very quick. Go!”

Swiftcub sprang forward, his little paws bounding over the ground. Still, he wasn’t fast enough to outpace Valor, who was far ahead of him already. A stab of disappointment spoiled his excitement, and suddenly it was even harder to run fast, but he ran grimly after his sister.

The startled meerkats were already doubling back into their holes. Stubby tails flicked and vanished; the bigger leader, his round dark eyes glaring at the oncoming lions, was last to twist and dash underground. Valor’s jaws snapped at his tail, just missing.

“Sky and stone!” the bigger cub swore, coming to a halt in a cloud of dust. She shook her head furiously and licked her jaws. “I nearly had it!”

A rumble of laughter made Swiftcub turn. His father, Gallant, stood watching them. Swiftcub couldn’t help but feel the usual twinge of awe mixed in with his delight. Black-maned and huge, his sleek fur glowing golden in the sun, Gallant would have been intimidating if Swiftcub hadn’t known and loved him so well. Swift rose to her paws and greeted the great lion affectionately, rubbing his maned neck with her head.

“It was a good attempt, Valor,” Gallant reassured his daughter. “What Swift said is true: meerkats are very hard to catch. You were so close—one day you’ll be as fine a hunter as your mother.” He nuzzled Swift and licked her neck.

“ I wasn’t anywhere near it,” grumbled Swiftcub. “I’ll never be as fast as Valor.”

“Oh, you will,” said Gallant. “Don’t forget, Valor’s a whole year older than you, my son. You’re getting bigger and faster every day. Be patient!” He stepped closer, leaning in so his great tawny muzzle brushed Swiftcub’s own. “That’s the secret to stalking, too. Learn patience, and one day you too will be a very fine hunter.”