Эрин Хантер - Thunder Аnd Shadow

“Fernsong’s coming with us,” Twigpaw told him. “He’ll need herbs too.”

“Fernsong?” Ivy pool j oined them, surprise lighting her eyes. “I thought we were going alone.”

“Squirrelflight just asked him,” Twigpaw told her happily. “You don’t m ind, do y ou? It’ll be like a real mission.”

“Of course I don’t m ind.” Ivy pool glanced warm ly at Fernsong as he headed toward them.

Alderpaw frowned. “It’ll be dangerous.”

Twigpaw sniffed. “You m ade the j ourney when you were younger than m e.”

“Yes.” Alderpaw looked thoughtful. Then his gaze brightened. “I should come with y ou!”

Twigpaw stared at him. “Why? You think m y mother’s dead.” Did he just want to come so he could say I told you so ? Or did he want to justify stealing her from her nest before her mother could return? She pushed the thoughts away. Alderpaw wouldn’t do that.

“I know where the nest was.” As he gazed hopefully at Ivy pool, hope trem bled along

Twigpaw’s spine. He was right! He could lead them straight to it. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

Ivy pool blinked at him. “It would be great to have you show us the way.”

Fernsong stopped beside her. “When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you and Alderpaw have gotten som e traveling herbs from Jayfeather,” Ivy pool told him. “We’ll have to make sure he’s all right with Alderpaw j oining us, too.”

“Alderpaw’s coming too?” Fernsong purred. “Great!” He headed for the medicine den, Alderpaw on his heels.

Ivy pool caught Twigpaw’s ey e. Her gaze was somber. Unease pricked Twigpaw’s belly. “You know we m ay not find any thing, right?” Ivy pool warned.

Twigpaw swallowed. “Yes.” But at least I’ll know I tried, she thought. I’ll know somebody tried . She reached down and lapped up the leaves, wrinkling her nose as their bitterness shriveled her tongue.

Ivy pool shuddered and licked her lips, finishing her pile. “Well, we’ll have plenty of energy.”

Fernsong and Alderpaw hurried from the nursery. Alderpaw looked pleased. “Jayfeather say s it’s all right for m e to go.”

Fernsong’s pelt was prickling. “Traveling herbs are the worst!” He stuck out his tongue.

Ivy pool purred and nudged him toward the entrance. “Hopefully they’ll give you enough strength to protect us. That is why y ou’re coming, isn’t it?” There was a tease in her mew.

Fernsong looked at her, whiskers twitching. “I was hoping y ou’d protect m e.”

“If y ou’re nice to m e, I might,” Ivy pool purred.

The warriors headed for the entrance, their pelts brushing am iably.

Twigpaw followed, feeling awkward beside Alderpaw. It had been so long since they’d spoken properly ; it would be weird traveling with him.

“How long will it take to get there?” she asked, avoiding his gaze.

“We should reach the Thunderpath tom orrow if we keep m oving.”

Twigpaw felt suddenly daunted. “Will we have to travel all night?”

“We’ll find som ewhere to rest tonight.” Alderpaw ducked through the entrance. “And if we wake early, we’ll be there before sunhigh tom orrow.”

Twigpaw followed. Half excited, half anxious, she followed Alderpaw up the rise that led toward the lake. The ground squelched beneath her paws. Newleaf warmth was slowly softening the forest. Green buds clung in a haze to the trees, and bey ond them stretched a pale blue sky.

“I hope we find her, Twigpaw.” Alderpaw’s mew was gentle as he waited for her to catch up.

She blinked at him and saw warmth in his eyes. He really means it. The anger that had sat like ice in her belly for a half-moon began to m elt. “So do I.”

Twigpaw’s paws ached as she followed Fernsong and Ivy pool from the trees. Since yesterday they’d crossed hills and m eadows, tracked rivers, and skirted Twoleg nests. They’d slept through the coldest part of the night in a sheltered hollow. Now, at last, they were close. She winced as bright sunlight bathed her face.

Alderpaw stopped beside her and nodded toward the bottom of the long slope in front of them.

A wide Thunderpath cut through the valley, snaking along the bottom like a stinking river. “We found you down there.”

“Near the Thunderpath?” Twigpaw blinked. She’d never seen a Thunderpath before—not that she could remember, any way. The noise and sm ell m ade her shrink back. Monsters roared along it, the sun flashing on their shiny pelts.

“Yes.” Alderpaw frowned.

Ivy pool and Fernsong paced the top of the slope, their pelts twitching nervously. “Should we go down there?”

“Of course!” Twigpaw flattened her ears against the sound of the Thunderpath and padded forward. “I want to see the nest.” She’d heard how Alderpaw and Needletail had plucked her and Violetpaw from a nest hidden in the shadows. Perhaps som e trace of her mother’s scent lingered there, a trace they could track.

Ivy pool hesitated.

Fernsong looked at her. “We’ve come this far,” he meowed. “We might as well go all the way.”

“But the m onsters.” Ivy pool stared at them nervously. “What if they leave the path?”

Fernsong whisked his tail. “They never leave the path,” he meowed. “Monsters m ay be big and loud, but they are bee-brained.”

Twigpaw flicked her tail. Warriors weren’t supposed to be scared. She hurried forward, her heart quickening as she scanned the slope for som e sign of a nest.

Alderpaw hurried to catch up to her. “We have to go underneath it.”

“Underneath?” Twigpaw looked at him, shocked.

“There’s a tunnel. It’s not very —” The sound of the m onsters drowned his mew.

Twigpaw could feel their heat as they neared. She raised her voice. “Where’s the entrance?”

Alderpaw scanned the edge of the Thunderpath, frowning for a m om ent. Then he nodded toward a sm all shadowy hollow where the side of the Thunderpath dropped into a ditch. “There it is.”

Excitem ent surged in Twigpaw’s belly. She broke into a run. Ignoring the acrid wind from the m onsters, which tore through her fur, she leaped into the ditch. Pebbles lined it, j abbing her paws.

She hurried along it until she reached the shadowy hollow. A huge m onster scream ed past. She screwed up her eyes as grit spray ed her.

Alderpaw landed beside her. Leaning over her, he shielded her as another m onster streaked past.

Paw steps crunched behind them. Ivy pool and Fernsong were hurry ing along the ditch toward them.

“Is this it?” Ivy pool blinked at the hole in the side of the ditch. Sm ooth, dark sticks crisscrossed it.

Twigpaw peered between them. The scent of dank stone and sour water filled her nose. She sniffed nervously, straining to see through the darkness. As her eyes grew accustom ed to the gloom, she could see twigs littering the bottom of the tunnel. Water pooled there, gleam ing as it stretched into the distance. Pale light showed at the far end. Som ething skittered there. A rat?

Alderpaw crouched close beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Twigpaw swallowed. She realized that her pelt was bristling as she struggled to remember this place. Was this really where her mother had left them? Sadness twisted her heart.

What a terrible place for a nursery. She thought of the bramble den back at camp, where countless queens had raised litters in warmth and safety. What had driven her mother to this? She stuck her head between the sticks and squeezed through them.

Foul-sm elling water soaked her paws. The skittering paw steps sounded again, echoing along the stone walls of the tunnel. Picking her way am ong the debris, Twigpaw sniffed. She tried desperately to sm ell som e trace of her mother through the stench, but nothing rem ained except the scent of m onsters and rats.