Эрин Хантер - The Apprentice's Quest

A pang of homesickness pierced him, sharp as a thorn, and he longed to feel cool grass beneath his pads, and to hear the gentle rustling of leaves as branches swayed above his head. I hope SkyClan will decide to come with us, just so we can head home soon. My Clan doesn’t even know that Sandstorm is dead.

Grief tugged at Alderpaw’s belly as he remembered the wise old she-cat. She would have known what to do, and helped him figure out why none of the cats here looked like the cats from his vision. She would have worked out why they didn’t seem to be looking for help.

Is my timing wrong? Was I dreaming of past SkyClan cats?

A yowl from a little way downstream distracted Alderpaw from his thoughts. Turning, he spotted Needlepaw, who was perched on a boulder a few tail-lengths away.

“The hunters are back!” she announced.

“And they’re bringing prey.”

Alderpaw left the waterside and bounded back to the center of the camp to meet the hunting patrols. His belly rumbled when he saw the quantities of prey that lay around Darktail as if presented for his approval. The hunters stood around the prey in a wide half circle, with Rain closest to their leader.

The rest of the questing cats clustered around Alderpaw and watched as Darktail chose a plump pigeon and tore mouthfuls of flesh from it. Then the SkyClan leader nodded to Rain, who stepped forward and chose a squirrel for himself.

“This is weird,” Sparkpaw muttered into

Alderpaw’s ear. “Where’s their fresh-kill pile?

Who takes food to the elders and the nursing queens?”

Before Alderpaw could even try to answer her question, Rain stepped back with the squirrel in his jaws. As if at a signal, the hunters closed in, butting heads and hissing as they tried to grab the juiciest pieces of fresh-kill.

At the edges of the circle Alderpaw spotted two or three skinny elders, who tried to join in the fight for food, only to be shoved back by the stronger cats, who crouched over their prey, glaring around as they ripped flesh from the bones. A she-cat, with three tiny kits mewling around her, darted in and grabbed a vole, but a huge tabby tom tore it out of her jaws and thrust her away with a powerful stroke of his hind legs.

The questing cats shared glances of horror and confusion. “What do they think they’re doing?” Cherryfall breathed out.

Beside Alderpaw, Needlepaw shrugged.

“Maybe they’ve never been taught the warrior code.”

“I’m surprised you’ve even heard of it,” Sparkpaw muttered.

Needlepaw gave her a sly, sideways glance.

“Just because I don’t always follow stupid rules doesn’t mean I don’t know they exist,” she retorted.

Then without hesitation she dived into the midst of the chaos of butting heads and swiping claws, easily batting two or three of the younger cats aside. Heartbeats later she emerged from the skirmish with a mouse, and crouched down in the shade of a rock to gulp it down.

Alderpaw spotted Darktail strolling back to the pile of rocks, with a casual glance over his shoulder at the fighting cats. He curled up beneath an overhang and watched the scene with slitted eyes.

Alderpaw’s belly was growling, but he couldn’t bring himself to join in the melee. I’m not going to battle elders or kits for food!

Beside him he heard Sparkpaw stifling a growl. “This isn’t fair,” she murmured. “Some of these SkyClan cats must go hungry day after day. That’s why so many of them look thin and ragged.”

As she finished speaking, she bounded forward, skirting the scrimmage, and marched boldly up to Darktail.

“Sparkpaw, no!” Alderpaw exclaimed, hurrying after her. To his relief he realized that Molewhisker and Cherryfall were following too.

“Why do you eat like this?” Sparkpaw piped up in a challenging tone as she planted herself in front of Darktail.

Alderpaw wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by her courage or embarrassed by her manners. We are SkyClan’s guests, after all.

“What do you mean?” Darktail asked, lashing his tail.

“In the Clans,” Sparkpaw explained, “we bring all the prey back to camp and make a fresh-kill pile. Some cat will take food to the elders and the nursing queens, and to any cats who are sick, and then the warriors and apprentices are allowed to help themselves. We don’t fight like that ,” she finished with a disdainful flick of her ears.

Darktail’s only response was to narrow his eyes. Alderpaw stepped up to his sister’s side, ready to defend her if the SkyClan leader struck at her.

“It’s only fair,” Sparkpaw went on. “You must have eaten like that in the past, since you’re warriors too, and you’re supposed to follow the warrior code.”

Alderpaw noticed a glint of amusement in Darktail’s eyes at the words warrior code .

“We have developed our own code,” the leader told Sparkpaw. “After we left the other Clans, SkyClan realized our members were becoming weak, and we decided to make up some new rules. SkyClan rules reward the strong and aggressive—the cats who will best defend the Clan.”

Sparkpaw looked confused. “What about sick cats, then, or elders?”

Darktail shrugged. “They learn to take care of themselves.”

Alderpaw winced as he saw Sparkpaw’s neck fur beginning to bristle in anger. “Then why do you even bother living in a Clan? It’s rogues who are out for themselves!”

A low growl of anger rose from deep in Darktail’s chest, and he slid out his claws.

Hastily Molewhisker stepped forward, thrusting himself between Darktail and Sparkpaw.

“She’s young and curious, that’s all,” he meowed. “But that’s enough for now. Come on.” He gave Sparkpaw a shove, back in the direction of their den.

Sparkpaw was clearly upset as they headed away. By now the fighting was over. The hunters were relaxing in the sun, lazily grooming themselves; Alderpaw spotted Needlepaw with them. Meanwhile the elders and the she-cat with the kits were picking over the remains of the prey, searching out any morsels the hunters had missed. The kits were wailing with hunger.

“We should go home,” Sparkpaw whispered as they settled themselves in their den. “These weird cats don’t need our help, and I’m not even sure that they are Clan cats anymore.”

Alderpaw found that he agreed with her about the way the SkyClan cats were behaving.

What Darktail had told them just now about the way SkyClan had changed the rules didn’t seem to fit with Bramblestar’s story of how Firestar and Sandstorm had traveled upriver to restore the Clan. “It’s all so confusing—” he began.

“What are you talking about?” Needlepaw interrupted as she strolled into the den.

“I said we should go home,” Sparkpaw repeated. “These cats don’t need us.”

“What?” Needlepaw sounded scornful.

“We’re here to find what lies in the shadows, right? And we’ve found it. These cats are really … well, dark. We can’t turn away now.”

“I think Sparkpaw is right.” Cherryfall gave Alderpaw a serious look. “Something is… off about these cats. I think they’re beyond our help. Is all this really what you saw in your dream?”

Alderpaw glanced around at his cats, sensing that they were really doubting him now.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “But I can’t believe that Bramblestar got it so wrong, or that Sandstorm died for nothing. I don’t know the reason, but I do know that this is where we are meant to be.”

He waited tensely as the other cats exchanged doubtful glances. At last Cherryfall gave a nod.

“Very well, then,” she meowed. “We’ll stay and try to figure it out.”