Эрин Хантер - Thunder Аnd Shadow

Mouse-brains! Violetpaw ripped away another piece of sparrow flesh and laid it in front of Snowbird. Puddleshine had m anaged to gather the herb without a hostage.

Yarrowleaf snored gently in her nest, while Puddleshine leaned over Pinenose, listening to her breathing, his ear pressed against her ribs. Snowbird, Oakfur, Yarrowleaf, and Pinenose were the last four cats recovering from the sickness. In a few day s they’d all be well, and the den would be cleared out to make way for fresh nests. The bramble shelter could become the warriors’ den once more. And with Rowanstar well enough to resum e his role as leader, Violetpaw hoped that ShadowClan would start to feel more organized. Rowanstar was still weak, but he had m ade

Tigerheart his new deputy and given Whorlpaw, Snakepaw, and Flowerpaw their apprentice names. The nursery was em pty now, and Grassheart had returned to her warrior duties.

Snakepaw had recovered quickly from the sickness once Puddleshine had adm inistered the lungwort. Violetpaw could glim pse the honey -colored tabby now, ly ing in a strip of sunshine beside the clearing while Whorlpaw and Flowerpaw practiced stalking in the long grass behind her.

“How are they?” Scorchfur’s urgent question m ade Violetpaw j um p. She turned and saw the dark gray tom swagger into the den, a frown in his eyes. He must have come to check on Snowbird and Yarrowleaf.

Puddleshine turned to face the tom. “Snowbird’s breathing is much better,” he reported. “And

Yarrowleaf is well enough to leave her nest when she feels rested.”

Yarrowleaf opened her eyes. “Hi, Scorchfur.” She greeted her father weakly.

Scorchfur glowered at Puddleshine. “She doesn’t seem much better.”

“She’s just tired. A long sleep will—”

Scorchfur didn’t let the medicine cat finish his sentence. “She wouldn’t have gotten sick at all if Rowanstar had acted sooner. And she’d have had the lungwort quicker if Crowfrost hadn’t given away our hostage.”

Puddleshine blinked at the tom. “That’s not true. Bramblestar said that Onestar refused to cooperate even when he knew we had Twigpaw.”

“And why would Bramblestar tell us the truth? It was his apprentice we held.” Scorchfur scowled at him.

Snowbird swallowed another m orsel of sparrow. “Go easy on him, Scorchfur. Puddleshine has been a lifesaver. More would have died without him.”

Scorchfur grunted. “And no cat would have died if we’d had stronger leaders.”

Violetpaw narrowed her eyes. Who in the camp could have been stronger than Rowanstar and Crowfrost? The tom seem ed determ ined to be dissatisfied. Perhaps he had been hoping to take

Tigerheart’s place as deputy, and he was only expressing his resentm ent.

Lionpaw broke into her thoughts. The young she-cat stuck her head through the den entrance.

“How’s Pinenose?” She blinked at her mother anxiously.

Puddleshine padded toward his littermate. “She’s much better today.”

Spikefur’s mew sounded outside. “She’ll get well quicker if you stop pestering her, Lionpaw.”

“I’m not pestering—”

“Spikefur!” Pinenose called eagerly to her mate.

The tom squeezed past Lionpaw and padded to her nest. “Has Puddleshine been taking good care of y ou?”

“Of course.” Her gaze flitted to Puddleshine. “I’m very proud of him. He practically saved the Clan single-pawed.”

Lionpaw huffed at the entrance. “I wish he’d told us he was going to gather lungwort.

Birchpaw and I could have helped.” Was that envy in Lionpaw’s mew?

“There wasn’t time to ask for help,” Puddleshine told his littermate. “If I hadn’t gathered it then, I couldn’t have gathered it at all.”

“What m ade Onestar change his m ind?” Scorchfur looked at Puddleshine, eyes glittering with suspicion.

“May be StarClan sent him a m essage,” Puddleshine answered vaguely. He hadn’t told any cat exactly how he’d gotten his paws on the lungwort, and, clearly, he wasn’t going to share the inform ation now.

Scorchfur grunted and stalked from the den. Spikefur touched his m uzzle fondly to Pinenose’s head, then followed.

Dawnpelt blinked at Violetpaw. “You must be hungry.” They’d been helping Puddleshine with the sick cats since dawn. “Let’s go and see if there’s any thing left on the fresh-kill pile.”

Violetpaw left the sparrow beside Snowbird and nodded to Puddleshine. “Should I bring y ou som ething to eat?”

Puddleshine shook his head. “I’ll fetch som ething when I’m done here.”

The medicine cat looked skinnier than ever. Dawnpelt must have noticed too.

“You need to take care of y ourself,” the cream she-cat warned him. “If you collapse, there’s no one else to take care of the Clan.”

Puddleshine dipped his head to her. “I won’t be long,” he prom ised.

Violetpaw followed Dawnpelt to the fresh-kill pile. A vole and a lizard were left over from yesterday’s catch.

Dawnpelt glanced around the camp. “Haven’t the hunting patrols been out y et?” The m orning sun was lifting about the treetops. Mistcloud and Sparrowtail sat beside the flat rock, eyes half-closed. Scorchfur and Spikefur were m urm uring to each other at the far end of the clearing.

Tawny pelt was gazing expectantly toward Rowanstar’s den. Wasn’t the ShadowClan leader up y et? And where was Tigerheart?

Strikestone padded toward Dawnpelt. He greeted his mother with a purr. “I hope Tigerheart organizes the hunting patrols soon.” He glanced at the vole and lizard. “I’m hungry for fresh prey.”

Dawnpelt tossed the stale vole toward Violetpaw and pulled the lizard closer. “Why hasn’t

Tigerheart organized the patrols?”

“Rowanstar called him into his den,” Strikestone told her. “May be they’re deciding who’s fit to hunt.”

“Let’s hope they don’t spend too long talking. Hungry bellies make grum py cats.” She leaned down and tore the head off the lizard and began chewing it.

Violetpaw shuddered. She’d never liked lizards, although her Clanmates happily gobbled them down as though they were a delicacy.

She sniffed the vole. It still sm elled stale, but she suddenly realized how hungry she was and bit into it. As its m usky flavor bathed her tongue, she saw Strikestone turn his head toward Rowanstar’s den. Rowanstar and Tigerheart appeared at the entrance and padded out toward their Clanmates.

Tawny pelt turned to face them at once. But Rippletail, eyes glinting with disdain, crossed the clearing and m urm ured som ething in Spikefur’s ear. The dark brown tom curled his lip, his icy gaze on Rowanstar.

The vole seem ed to turn dry in Violetpaw’s m outh. What were the warriors say ing? Nothing pleasant, by the look of it.

Tigerheart padded to the head of the clearing, Rowanstar at his side. “We’ve been discussing the hunting patrols,” he called, his eyes flitting around the Clan. “Our Clanmates are recovering and have good appetites, but som e are not y et fit to hunt. This means that the rest of us must hunt harder than ever. I want the fresh-kill pile full by this evening.”

Scorchfur and Spikefur exchanged glances.

Tigerheart went on. “Spikefur, take Lionpaw, Mistcloud, Whorlpaw, and Rippletail to the ditches and hunt there. Scorchfur, take Birchpaw, Grassheart, Flowerpaw, and Sparrowtail to the lake to hunt. Dawnpelt, take Violetpaw, Tawny pelt, and Strikestone to the alder grove near the border. There will be good hunting there now that it’s newleaf, but watch out for the rogues.”

Dawnpelt straightened, swallowing the last of her lizard, and nodded to the deputy.

Spikefur stared at Tigerheart. “Where will you and Rowanstar be hunting?”