Эрин Хантер - Thunder Аnd Shadow

Worry flashed in Rowanstar’s gaze. “No.”

“Why?” She m et his gaze, surprised at her own boldness.

“We need you here.” The ShadowClan leader looked suddenly weary. “Perhaps if you come back, the others will too.”

“That’s their decision.” Violetpaw was unconvinced. “Don’t take m e as bait to catch the others.

Take m e because you want a Clanmate.”

Spikefur growled under his breath. “Don’t believe her, Rowanstar. The rogues m ay have sent her. It could be a plot.”

Violetpaw scowled at the tom. “Do you really think they’d send me if they wanted to infiltrate the Clan? I’m the last cat ShadowClan wants. I’m not even Clanborn.”

Tawny pelt’s flank brushed hers. “Rowanstar, I think we should take her back. It was brave of her to leave the rogues and risk coming here.”

Tigerheart nodded. “She m ay not be Clanborn, but she has the courage of a Clan cat.” He blinked at her warm ly.

Surprise pricked through Violetpaw’s pelt. Was it really going to be this easy? She stared at Rowanstar, her heart beating fast.

Rowanstar hesitated, glancing around the camp. Then he dipped his head. “Very well. We need all the warriors we can get right now. I welcome you back to ShadowClan as a Clanmate.”

He looked toward the fresh-kill pile. “Dawnpelt! You will be Violetpaw’s m entor.”

Dawnpelt padded toward Violetpaw, her nose wrinkling as she approached. “Okay,” she agreed. “But I’m not training her until she’s washed off that filthy rogue stench.”

Violetpaw hardly heard her. She didn’t care what she sm elled like. Joy flooded her belly. She was going to be a Clan cat again. A real apprentice!

Now that she’d been accepted back into ShadowClan, Violetpaw was determ ined to show what a helpful cat she’d become. She rose early each day to fetch fresh bedding for the elders before Dawnpelt took her out for training. She was always last to take prey from the pile at the end of a long day’s hunting. When Dawnpelt was busy, she would help Puddleshine gather herbs. The last time she’d seen him, Puddleshine had still been an apprentice, but he’d been given his full medicine-cat name when Leafpool had returned to ThunderClan. Violetpaw liked helping him. He was always friendly, although he seem ed anxious in his role as the Clan’s medicine cat, and a little overwhelm ed by the daily worries of keeping his Clan healthy.

Her time with the rogues had m ade her a good hunter, and Dawnpelt was im pressed with her skills. Violetpaw didn’t dare explain that Needletail had trained her. She hardly mentioned Needletail or the others, even when her Clanmates asked about them. Rowanstar had pressed her for inform ation about the rogues, but Violetpaw had refused to answer in any detail, say ing only that as long as Darktail was leader, they were no threat to the Clan. She’d heard Darktail say that he had no wish to take over ShadowClan territory, and she hoped it was true. Eventually Rowanstar stopped asking. The whole Clan stopped asking, and she knew that she had earned their grudging respect for refusing to betray her form er campmates. She’d even overheard Kinkfur talking to Ratscar one evening as she’d padded wearily to her den. “If she won’t betray them, then she won’t betray us.”

Of course, som e of her Clanmates didn’t trust her y et. Snowbird and Scorchfur watched her through narrowed eyes. Spikefur barely spoke to her. Pinenose acknowledged her with polite nods but kept her distance. At least Yarrowleaf and Strikestone were friendly enough, content to share prey with her at the end of the day.

She missed Needletail, and guilt j abbed her belly every time she thought of her friend.

Keeping busy helped her not think about what she’d left behind. It also stopped her wondering about Twigpaw and their mother. Could Twigpaw be right? Could their mother still be alive?

Perhaps she should have gone with Twigpaw when she’d asked. Violetpaw pushed the questions away and m ade herself busy each time they popped into her thoughts.

Today rain dripped through the canopy as she woke. She heard it from inside the cozy apprentices’ den and fluffed out her fur before nosing her way into the clearing. The rest of the Clan was still sleeping as she padded quietly across camp. Weak dawn light hardly showed through the clouds. As she tried to think of a sheltered patch of bracken where she could gather dry stem s for the elders’ bedding, Puddleshine padded from the medicine den.

Worry clouded his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Violetpaw hurried toward him, her paws squelching over the m uddy ground.

She glanced past him toward the medicine-den entrance. She knew Wasptail and Oakfur were inside, sick with a m y sterious illness. “Are they worse?”

“I don’t know what to do.” Puddleshine paced, oblivious to the rain soaking his fur. “I’ve tried every herb I know. I thought it was greencough, but catm int hasn’t helped. Tansy eases their breathing for a while, but their fever is getting worse, and nothing seem s to help.”

“Can I help?” Violetpaw offered. “I can fetch more herbs—”

“Didn’t you hear m e? Herbs aren’t working! ” Puddleshine stared at her, panic glittering in his gaze. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Speak to Rowanstar,” Violetpaw urged, wishing she had som ething better to suggest.

“Perhaps he’s seen the illness before. He might know what Littlecloud used to do.”

Puddleshine blinked at her gratefully and headed for the leader’s den.

Violetpaw followed, shaking rain from her pelt.

“Rowanstar!” Puddleshine called softly through the entrance.

A husky growl sounded from the shadows. “Who is it?”

“It’s m e, Puddleshine.” The young medicine cat stepped back as Rowanstar slid from his den.

The ShadowClan leader’s eyes were bleary with sleep. His fur was unkem pt, and he stared listlessly at Puddleshine. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know how to cure Wasptail and Oakfur,” Puddleshine confessed. “I’ve tried every thing I know, but none of it works.”

“I thought they had greencough,” Rowanstar grunted. “Give them catm int.”

“Catm int isn’t working. It must be another illness. One I don’t know.” Puddleshine looked frantic.

Rowanstar’s pelt prickled irritably along his spine. “You’re the medicine cat,” he growled.

“Why are you asking m e?”

Violetpaw padded closer. “He thought you might have seen the illness before,” she told him.

“He hoped y ou’d know what to do.”

“Littlecloud took care of sickness.” Rowanstar blinked at her crossly.

“Perhaps we should ask a more experienced medicine cat,” Violetpaw ventured. “Perhaps Leafpool could come and help again. I can go and fetch her now—”

“No!” Rowanstar’s eyes flashed with anger. “We’re not asking ThunderClan for help.”

“But she trained m e!” Puddleshine argued. “You didn’t mind asking for help then .”

“I had no choice,” Rowanstar growled.

“We have no choice now,” Puddleshine pressed. “We can’t let Wasptail and Oakfur get sicker.

Oakfur is old. I don’t know if he can survive much longer. And what if the sickness spreads? I have to know what to do.”

“Try other herbs.” Rowanstar fluffed out his pelt against the hardening rain. He turned and slunk back into the shelter of his den.

Puddleshine stared after him, eyes round. “I’ve tried every thing I know,” he mewed thickly.