Эрин Хантер - The Apprentice's Quest

“RiverClan cats love the lake,” Cherryfall mewed. “They swim in it and catch fish.”

“Weird!” Sparkpaw responded. Giving a little bounce, she added, “Can I catch a fish?” Without waiting for her mentor to reply, she dashed across the pebbles and skidded to a halt with her forepaws splashing at the edge of the water. “Cold!” she yowled, leaping backward with her neck fur bristling. Then she let out a little huff of laughter and bounced to the edge again, her tail waving excitedly. “I can’t see any fish,” she meowed.

Molewhisker heaved a sigh. “You won’t, if you go on like that. Or anything else, for that matter. Yowling and prancing around like that, you’ll scare away all the prey in the forest.”

Sparkpaw backed away from the water again and joined her Clanmates beside the bushes, her tail drooping. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“That’s okay.” Cherryfall rested her tail briefly on her apprentice’s shoulders. “We’re not hunting right now. And I know how exciting it is to see the lake for the first time.”

Molewhisker flicked his ears. “Let’s move on.”

He took the lead as the cats padded along the lakeshore. Soon they came to a stream, which emerged from the forest and flowed into the lake.

“This is the ShadowClan border,” Cherryfall announced.

Alderpaw wrinkled his nose at a strong, unfamiliar reek that came from the opposite side of the stream.

“Yuck! What’s that?” Sparkpaw asked, taking a pace back and passing her tongue over her jaws as if she could taste something nasty.

“That’s the scent of ShadowClan,” Molewhisker answered.

“That’s cat scent?” Sparkpaw sounded outraged. “I thought only foxes stank like that.”

“It only smells bad because we’re not used to it,” Molewhisker pointed out, beginning to lead the way upstream, back into the shelter of the trees. “We probably smell just as bad to them.”

“No way!” Sparkpaw muttered under her breath.

“You know that all the Clans scent-mark their boundaries,” Cherryfall explained as they continued to follow the stream. “Of course, we all know where the borders are, but marking them reminds every cat that they aren’t supposed to enter another Clan’s territory without permission.”

“You should be able to pick up the ThunderClan scent markers, too,” Molewhisker mewed. “We’ll show you how to set them. Before long, you’ll be doing it as part of a border patrol.”

“Cool!” Alderpaw exclaimed. For the first time he imagined himself as a warrior, maybe even leading a patrol, setting scent markers to protect his Clan’s territory. I’m learning so much today! I feel like I’m becoming a real part of my Clan.

After they had traveled some distance into the forest, the stream veered sharply away, but the line of ShadowClan and ThunderClan scent markers continued in the same direction across the ground. On the ShadowClan side the leafy trees and thick undergrowth soon gave way to dark pines, the ground covered by a thick layer of needles.

“Now we’ll show you something really different,” Cherryfall promised. She beckoned the two apprentices into a hazel thicket, signaling with her tail for them to keep quiet. “What do you think of that?”

Alderpaw gazed out into a clearing dotted with weird structures: they looked like little dens made of strange green pelts. Tasting the air, he realized they were right on the border between the two Clans. As well as the scent markings, he managed to pick up another scent he had never encountered before.

“Is this some sort of Twoleg stuff?” he asked. “I’ve never seen a Twoleg, but Squirrelflight says they come into the forest sometimes.”

“Exactly right,” Molewhisker purred, giving Alderpaw a light flick over his ear with his tail.

Alderpaw felt his chest swell with pride. “In greenleaf, Twolegs come and live here in these little dens.”

“Why do they do that?” Sparkpaw asked, sounding as if she didn’t believe him.

Molewhisker shrugged. “StarClan knows.”

“Are they here now?” Alderpaw asked.

“They’re probably still asleep in there,” Cherryfall mewed. “Lazy lot. Anyway, this clearing is in ShadowClan territory, so they’re ShadowClan’s problem. Let’s be on our way.”

Alderpaw’s legs were beginning to get tired as the mentors turned away from the border and plunged into deeper woodland. They seemed to walk for seasons, crossing leafy glades, skirting bramble thickets, and leaping across small streams. His belly started to feel hollow.

It had been a long time since he had eaten the blackbird back in the camp.

Eventually he began to hear the sound of flowing water up ahead, as if they were coming to a wider stream. Before it came into sight, Cherryfall signaled for them to halt. “What can you smell?” she asked.

Alderpaw and Sparkpaw stood side by side, their jaws wide as they drew in air over their scent glands. Alderpaw concentrated hard, trying to separate all the different scents that seemed to be attacking him.

“Mouse!” Sparkpaw exclaimed as he was still trying to focus. “ Please can we hunt now?

I’m starving!”

“Yes, mouse,” Cherryfall mewed, ignoring her apprentice’s pleading. “What else?”

Alderpaw forced his hunger down, focusing all his attention on what he could smell. “There are two scents close together,” he began hesitantly, afraid that he was going to get it wrong. “And they’re really strong. ThunderClan and…” The other scent was vaguely unpleasant, and he remembered what they had learned at the ShadowClan border. “Is it the scent of another Clan?”

Molewhisker and Cherryfall exchanged a glance. “That’s right,” Molewhisker meowed.

“Do you know which Clan?”

How am I supposed to know? Alderpaw asked himself. I’ve never smelled it before!

Then he remembered something else.

“You told us RiverClan is way over on the other side of the lake. So this one must be

WindClan.”

“Excellent!” Cherryfall purred. “Let’s go and see the border.”

She led the way to the bank of another stream, this time running at the bottom of a deep cleft covered in lush vegetation. “Over there is WindClan territory,” she mewed with a wave of her tail.

Beyond the stream the trees quickly gave way to a steep hill covered in short, tough grass, the slope rearing up like the arched back of a cat.

“WindClan cats live there ?” Sparkpaw asked.

Molewhisker nodded. “Yes, on the moor.”

“It looks bleak,” Alderpaw murmured with a shiver. “They must have their camp somewhere in these woods, right?”

“Wrong,” his mentor responded. “They camp in a hollow on the moor, surrounded by gorse bushes. It wouldn’t do for ThunderClan, but they seem to like it.”

“I’d hate to be out there without any trees,” Sparkpaw mewed. “I think—”

She broke off as a rabbit appeared, dashing over the brow of the hill. A moment later a thin, leggy tabby crested the rise, racing along in pursuit, her belly fur brushing the moorland grass and her tail streaming out behind her.

Both creatures disappeared into a hollow, but a thin shriek, abruptly cut off, told the ThunderClan cats that the tabby had caught her prey.

“They’re pretty fast,” Molewhisker commented.

“I could just eat a rabbit,” Sparkpaw sighed, licking her lips as if a piece of succulent prey were lying in front of her.

“Then we’ll get back to camp,” Cherryfall meowed. “It’s not far from here.”

“But I thought we were going to practice hunting!” Sparkpaw protested.

Alderpaw twitched his tail, hoping the mentors would say no. He felt nervous enough about remembering all the new things they’d learned without adding a hunting lesson to the mix. But Cherryfall and Molewhisker glanced at each other. “Okay,” Molewhisker agreed after a moment. “But even if you catch something, you can’t eat it. Everything goes back to the fresh-kill pile. The Clan must be fed first.”