Эрин Хантер - Thunder Аnd Shadow

“Rowanstar needs to rest,” Tigerheart told him. “He’s still recovering from his illness.”

“He looks fine to m e,” Spikefur looked the leader up and down scornfully.

Rowanstar’s eyes flashed. “I will hunt,” he mewed hoarsely, “if the Clan needs it.”

Scorchfur nodded toward the den where the rem aining sick cats lay. “The Clan needs it,” he growled.

Worry darkened Tigerheart’s gaze. “You shouldn’t risk y our health,” he mewed to Rowanstar.

Rowanstar m et his deputy’s gaze. “I must show m y Clan I am still strong.”

Spikefur snorted. “It’s a bit late for that.” Flicking his tail sharply, he headed out of camp, his patrol hurry ing after him.

Violetpaw watched him go, her pelt rippling with unease. Even ShadowClan’s warriors were showing no respect for their leader now. She glanced toward Dawnpelt, hoping for reassurance, but her m entor was already following the other patrols out of camp. I came back here because I wanted to live by the warrior code. But right now she felt as though ShadowClan had forgotten the one thing that m ade them warriors: they seem ed to have forgotten loy alty.

She followed Dawnpelt. Perhaps tonight’s Gathering will remind them what it is to be a true Clan.

Violetpaw draped the last piece of dried m oss inside the freshly woven bracken nest and sat back on her haunches to adm ire her work. Outside, the full moon was rising, so bright that it lit the camp and shafts of moonlight speared the elders’ den.

Ratscar nodded approvingly at the new nest. “Oakfur will be pleased with it.”

“Puddleshine say s he can return to the elders’ den tom orrow,” Violetpaw told him. “I wanted him to be com fortable.” She glanced at Ratscar’s shabby nest. “I can make you a fresh nest tom orrow if you like.”

A purr rasped in Ratscar’s throat. “That would be great.” His gaze flitted to the third nest in the den, now stale and cold. “It’s going to be quiet in here without Kinkfur,” he m urm ured sadly.

“Oakfur isn’t much of a talker.”

“ShadowClan!” Rowanstar’s call sounded outside the den.

Blinking at Ratscar, Violetpaw hurried out. Let Rowanstar choose me to go to the Gathering.

She wondered if she’d see Twigpaw, then pushed the thought away. Why would I want to see her?

Anger flashed beneath her pelt. She left me.

Tawny pelt and Tigerheart were already standing expectantly in front of Rowanstar. At the edge of the clearing, Strikestone plucked at the grass eagerly, the rem ains of the fresh-kill he’d been eating beside him. Dawnpelt crossed the camp, heading toward Rowanstar, her tail high.

Violetpaw hurried to j oin her m entor, her paws prickling with excitem ent as Rowanstar began to call the names of the cats who would travel with him to the island. “Tawny pelt, Tigerheart, Violetpaw.” He chose me! Violetpaw purred as she reached Dawnpelt.

“Puddleshine!” The medicine cat was already crossing the clearing as Rowanstar called his name.

“Dawnpelt, Strikestone, Spikefur, Mistcloud, Whorlpaw, Sparrowtail, Flowerpaw.”

Violetpaw glanced over her shoulder, scanning the clearing for the young apprentices. Their first Gathering! Flowerpaw was hurry ing toward Rowanstar, her eyes shining. Whorlpaw followed at her heels.

Violetpaw’s purr faltered as she caught sight of Spikefur. He was hanging back at the edge of the clearing, his shoulders stiff. Mistcloud stood beside him. The warriors’ eyes were dark. Why weren’t they hurry ing to j oin the others?

“Scorchfur, Sparrowtail.” Rowanstar went on, apparently unaware that som e of the cats he had named weren’t m oving from their place.

Scorchfur glowered at the ShadowClan leader. “We’re not coming.” His y owl cut across the moonlit camp like a claw slicing through the darkness.

Tigerheart and Tawny pelt j erked their m uzzles toward the dark gray tom. Dawnpelt turned to face him.

Violetpaw stared in disbelief as Spikefur, Sparrowtail, Mistcloud, and Rippletail padded to join Scorchfur. They glared m alevolently at Rowanstar.

Scorchfur lashed his tail. “Why should we m eet with the Clans who refused to help us?”

Spikefur hissed. “They were prepared to let us die!”

Rowanstar pushed between Tawny pelt and Tigerheart, stopping short of the rebellious warriors. “I am the leader of ShadowClan, and I say we’re going.”

Scorchfur huffed. “Where were you when Crowfrost handed our hostage over to ThunderClan without a fight?”

“Holding an apprentice hostage wasn’t going to change any thing,” Rowanstar retorted.

Tawny pelt had told the ShadowClan leader what had happened while he was ill. “Sickness is no excuse for a Clan to act like rogues.”

“And how do rogues act?” Spikefur stepped forward. “Do they withhold herbs while innocent cats die? Or is that just Clan cats?”

Mistcloud’s ears twitched. “Onestar behaved badly and the other Clans let him. We are not like them. We don’t want to be like them.”

Rowanstar’s eyes rounded sy m pathetically. “If you want to air y our grievances, come to the Gathering. Speak with the other Clans. Perhaps we can make them see that they’ve treated us badly.”

“Words didn’t work before,” Scorchfur snarled. “Why should they work now?”

“I’ll speak to them for y ou.” Rowanstar’s tone was conciliatory. “You can stay here and I will report back what they said.”

Scorchfur narrowed his eyes to threatening slits. “If you go to the Gathering, don’t bother coming back,” he hissed. “ShadowClan doesn’t need a leader as weak as y ou.”

As he spoke, Spikefur turned toward the entrance to the camp.

Violetpaw’s heart lurched as she saw shadowy figures stream ing into the clearing. She tasted rogue scent, and as the shapes m oved into the moonlight, she recognized Darktail, Rain, Raven, and the rest of their campmates. Violetpaw felt sick. Needletail was with them, and Sleekwhisker and Cloverfoot. Every cat from the rogue camp was here except Beenose. Had she left them?

Had the sickness killed her?

Violetpaw pressed against Dawnpelt, asham ed of her trem bling paws. What are they doing here? Why have they come?

Spikefur padded to greet the rogues, dipping his head to Darktail before turning back to Rowanstar. “We need new leadership,” he growled. “ Strong leadership.”

Rowanstar’s eyes sparked with fury. He glared at Spikefur, and then his gaze flitted angrily around the rebellious cats before resting finally on Darktail. “Are you suggesting that we give our Clan over to rogues?” His mew was icy.

Violetpaw saw the m uscles rippling across Rowanstar’s shoulders. His ribs still showed through his pelt from the illness, but as his hackles rose, she remembered what a fierce warrior he was.

He faced Darktail. “You will take this Clan over m y dead body.”

Delight sparked in Darktail’s gaze. “That sounds fair.”

The rogue leader flung him self at Rowanstar.

Violetpaw gasped.

Rowanstar reared, but the force of Darktail’s attack pushed him back. Rowanstar’s hind legs trem bled as he dug his paws into the earth and braced him self against the snarling rogue. Ey es flashing, Darktail turned his head and bit into the ShadowClan leader’s neck.

Rowanstar grunted, twisting beneath Darktail as he tried to shake him off. But the ShadowClan leader must have lost his balance. With a j erk, Darktail flipped him onto his side, jaws still gripping his neck.

Help him! Violetpaw stared at her Clanmates. They drew closer, their eyes wide with shock.

Why doesn’t someone help? Her gaze flitted from the Clan cats to the rogues. Needletail, where are you? But as soon as she spotted her friend, she knew she would not stop the attack. Needletail was watching the attack with excitement—just like the rest of the rogues.