Эрин Хантер - A Forest Divided

The only answer was from a crow, which cawed as though amused by his fear. Its wings beat above his head, and he glanced up instinctively as it fluttered among the branches of a pine.

A small squeak sounded above him.

Clear Sky frowned, puzzled for a moment. It sounded like a kit, but why would it be all the way up in the tree?

Another mew rang from the pine branches.

He craned his neck. Could the kits have climbed to safety?

“It’s coming closer!” Dew Nose’s mew rang clear through the cold air.

Clear Sky froze as he glimpsed her splotchy brown pelt. The kits were clinging to a branch high above his head. Storm Pelt and Eagle Feather cowered behind her. On the branch above them, black feathers glinted in a shaft of sunshine.

The crow! Clear Sky’s chest tightened. It was bigger than the kits. With a shudder he remembered watching crows on the Thunderpath, picking at fresh-kill on the stone, their long talons pinning the prey to the ground as they tore strips of flesh away with their strong, sharp beaks.

“Dew Nose! I’m coming!” Fear scorching beneath his pelt, Clear Sky circled the tree. His neck ached from looking up. The crow hopped down a branch and began to sidle toward the kits.

Eagle Feather let out a squeal of terror, shuffling backward.

“Stay away from us!” Dew Nose lifted a paw and lashed out with a hiss.

Storm Pelt cowered behind her, his belly pressed hard against the bark.

The crow only had to knock one of the kits from the branch to turn it into fresh-kill.

Clear Sky reached up and sank his claws into the pine trunk, relieved as he felt the softness of the wood. Hooking his hind claws in behind him, he pushed himself up. Groaning with the effort, he began to haul himself higher. His muscles burned. He paused to catch his breath. The lowest branch was still far above. His legs trembled, and heat washed beneath his pelt. Closing his eyes, he pushed himself higher. The bark scraped his cheek. Don’t let me fall!

Suddenly, a rotten patch of bark crumbled beneath his forepaw. His claws lost their grip and he slipped. With a thump, his belly knocked against the trunk. Winded, he hung by three paws, fear spiraling in his mind. He pictured the earth far below and swung his free paw hard against the bark, sinking his claws in as deep as he could. Struggling to find his breath, he hauled himself up again, pushing with his hind paws and praying that no more bark would crumble.

Caw! Triumph sounded in the crow’s cry.

Clear Sky gritted his teeth and pushed on. Looking up, he saw a branch within reach. Growling with effort, he dug his hind claws in deep and lunged upward. He swung his forepaws toward the branch and grasped it. Pausing for breath, he hung between branch and trunk. Then, with a final grunt, he dragged himself up.

“Clear Sky?” Dew Nose’s frightened mew sounded overhead.

He looked up. The kits were only a few branches above him. But the crow was just a tail-length from them, its beady black eyes glinting with excitement.

The next branch was within reach. He reared and flung his paws around it and hauled himself up.

It was easy to scrabble onto the branch beyond. Another leap took him to the kits’ branch. It trembled beneath his paws as he landed.

The crow snapped its head around, fear flashing in its gaze.

Clear Sky hissed. “Fly away unless you want to be my next meal.”

The crow glanced back at the kits. With an angry shout, it unfolded its wings and soared from the branch. Clear Sky watched it swoop away between the trunks, its dark feathers black against the white forest floor.

“Clear Sky!” Dew Nose’s mew was limp with relief. She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Pity flooded beneath Clear Sky’s pelt. He thought for a heartbeat of the kits Star Flower was carrying. What if this had been them? He pushed the thought away. It was too much to bear. A fierce, protective fire surged through every muscle as he stared at the helpless kits. I’ve never felt like this before.

Guilt flooded him as he thought of Thunder. I should have cared about him like this.

“Clear Sky?” Storm Pelt stared over his sister’s shoulder. Eagle Feather clung to the bark behind her. They were close to the tip of the branch.

It was wide beneath Clear Sky’s paws, but it narrowed to hardly more than a twig by the time it reached the kits, who were clustered like fledglings. It would never take his weight. If he tried to move toward them, it might break and send them all crashing to the ground. “You must walk toward me,” he told them gently.

“My legs won’t move!” Dew Nose stared at him, her eyes desperate with terror. She clung, belly down, like a mouse.

“I’ll come first.” Storm Pelt straightened behind her.

“Don’t move!” Dew Nose shrieked. “You’ll knock me off!”

Clear Sky pushed back the fear pressing in his throat. “Just dig your claws in hard, Dew Nose.

The bark is soft, and if you hold on hard enough, nothing can knock you off.”

She stared at him hopefully.

“Are you digging them in?” Clear Sky asked gently.

She nodded slowly.

“Good.” Clear Sky looked at Storm Pelt. “Can you climb over your sister without falling?”

“I think so.”

“That’s not good enough,” Clear Sky told him firmly. “You have to know you can do it.” If he could just get one kit to him, it might give the other two enough courage to follow.

Storm Pelt met his gaze steadily. “I know I can do it.”

“Good kit.” Clear Sky’s mouth dried as Storm Pelt began to clamber over his sister.

Dew Nose whined.

“Just hold on, Dew Nose,” Clear Sky soothed. “You’ll be fine.” He kept his gaze fixed on Storm

Pelt, who was wobbling as he padded over his sister’s back. He paused on her shoulders, and Clear Sky’s heart seemed to burst in his chest. He forced his mew to be calm. “Just jump onto the branch when you’re ready.”

Storm Pelt jumped.

The breath caught in Clear Sky’s throat as Storm Pelt landed. The kit’s paws slithered for a moment on the bark; then he dug in his claws and steadied himself.

“Well done!” Relief washed Clear Sky. “Now just keep walking toward me.” Blood roared in his ears as Storm Pelt approached slowly. “The branch is wider here,” he encouraged.

Storm Pelt was less than a tail-length away. As he neared, Clear Sky leaned forward and grabbed the kit’s scruff. Curling his claws deep into the bark to steady himself, he swung the kit behind him and placed him gently in the crook where the branch met the trunk. “You’re safe there, as long as you don’t move.” Storm Pelt cowered in the shallow dip. Clear Sky turned back to Dew Nose, surprise pricking his paws as he saw Eagle Feather padding along the branch toward him. He waited until the kit was within reach, then leaned forward and, grasping his scruff, plopped him down beside his brother.

“Dew Nose.” He faced the she-kit, forcing his mew to be as gentle as he could. She was still clinging to the thin branch, her eyes wide with fear. “Did you see how easy it was for your brothers?”

She nodded slowly.

“You need to uncurl your claws just enough to stand up,” Clear Sky told her. “Then start walking toward me. You’ll be okay. Kit claws are really sharp—sharper than thorns, I promise you. They’ll dig into the bark and keep you safe. All you have to do is walk.”

Dew Nose stared at him for a moment, then slowly pushed herself to her paws.

“Well done!” Pride surged in Clear Sky’s chest. “Now walk.” Hope and relief welled in his belly as Dew Nose put one trembling paw in front of the other. Her gaze was fixed on him, her ears flat against her head. “You’re nearly there,” he told her. She was almost close enough to grab. “Just a few more steps and—”