Эрин Хантер - Thunder Rising

Gray Wing tasted the air. Gorse was right; there was a strong smell of rabbit, and he spotted several piles of their droppings among the grass.

“You’re carrying some extra weight,” Wind mewed to Turtle Tail as they set off again.

Turtle Tail gave her shoulder a couple of embarrassed licks. “My kits should be here soon,” she murmured.

“Then you need some easy hunting,” Gorse told her. “Maybe a nice, fat pigeon that can’t get too far. Let’s head for the river.”

The rest of the cats followed Gorse. Gray Wing pricked his ears, listening for the weird clacking call that would tell him there were pigeons around.

“Over there.” Rainswept Flower angled her ears forward and Gray Wing picked up the sounds of several pigeons, though he couldn’t see anything.

“Stupid birds,” Gorse muttered. “They don’t know when to stay quiet.”

The cats prowled ahead more slowly. The moorland had given way to sandy soil and rocky outcrops with tussocks of wiry grass and bushes here and there. Gray Wing still couldn’t spot any prey until Turtle Tail halted and raised her tail.

“Under that bush,” she whispered.

Gray Wing peered hard and finally made out the pinkish breast of a pigeon that was pecking at something on the ground between two boulders close to the edge of the river.

“Your eyes are sharp,” he breathed. This is so great—hunting in a new place, and with Turtle Tail.

“Yes!” Gorse flashed past him, clearly unable to resist making the catch.

The pigeon took flight with sharp flicks of its wings, but Gorse hurled himself at it and gripped its tail with his claws. Two or three more birds broke out of the bushes as he sprang, and soared upward, well out of danger. Gorse’s pigeon struggled frantically; one of its wing tips caught Gorse in the face and he tumbled backward, losing his grip on its tail feathers.

Wind sighed. “I suppose I’d better finish the job.”

As she spoke she raced forward and made a ferocious leap as the pigeon took off. Sinking her claws into its breast, she wrestled it to the ground again and held it until it stopped struggling.

Turtle Tail’s eyes were glimmering with amusement. “Do you think we should show them how to catch birds?” she whispered to Gray Wing.

Gray Wing gave his head a tiny shake. “We might offend them.” But we made cleaner kills than that in the mountains .

Wind looked up from her prey with a feather stuck between her teeth. “Come and share,” she invited.

Gray Wing, Turtle Tail, and Rainswept Flower headed toward her, all three trying to hide amusement.

“I thought we were supposed to be showing Turtle Tail how to catch fat, lazy pigeons,” Rainswept Flower mewed innocently.

“Well, I’ve certainly learned something,” Turtle Tail responded.

When they were all crouched around the pigeon, taking bites of the warm flesh, she continued, “I’m glad I came back. Hunting has never looked like such fun!”

“Remember that there are tensions now,” Gray Wing warned her, swallowing a mouthful.

“What tensions?” a new voice chimed in.

Gray Wing stiffened. Looking around, he spotted a silver-furred cat sitting on a rock in the middle of the river. Water swirled a mouse-length beneath his paws and his elegantly curled tail.

“Who’s that?” Rainswept Flower exclaimed, shocked. “What cat likes sitting near water?”

The silver cat leaped neatly across a line of stones and climbed the bank until he stood beside them. He looked friendly and completely at ease. “Hi,” he meowed. “My name’s River Ripple.”

Wind and Gorse exchanged a glance; clearly the newcomer was a stranger to them, too.

“Are you a rogue?” Gray Wing asked.

River Ripple shrugged. “I don’t like giving myself labels. I live by the river”—he flicked his tail toward the opposite bank—“and that’s all any cat needs to know.”

“I’m Gray Wing, and this is Turtle Tail and Rainswept Flower,” Gray Wing began with a polite dip of his head. “And these two are Gorse and Wind.”

As he spoke, he noticed that River Ripple was only half listening; he was eyeing the remains of the pigeon. “That looks tasty,” he remarked, swiping his tongue around his whiskers.

Gray Wing snorted with amusement, and pushed the rest of the prey over to the silver tom. That was a pretty heavy hint!

“Thanks.” River Ripple bent his head and demolished the pigeon in a series of neat, rapid bites.

“I’ve never seen a cat eat so delicately,” Turtle Tail commented.

Neither have I , Gray Wing thought. So elegant, even when he’s hungry!

River Ripple met Turtle Tail’s gaze, then shrugged. “I’m a cat full of surprises,” he meowed. He dipped his head to the others, then, with a flash of his tail, raced back across the stones and plunged into the undergrowth on the opposite bank of the river.

Gray Wing and his friends looked at one another. “I think that was his way of saying good-bye,” Gray Wing meowed. I’ve never met such a strange cat!

“Weird… ,” Wind murmured.

Before any of the others could speak, a series of guttural, angry noises sounded above the rushing of the river. Gray Wing felt a prickle of uneasiness, and exchanged an alarmed glance with Turtle Tail. “What’s that?” he asked.

The noises came again, louder and closer this time.

“Dogs!” Wind exclaimed.

A rush of panic invaded Gray Wing, and he fought to stay calm. “We have to find shelter!” he exclaimed. Even as he spoke, he realized that he had no idea where to go. We don’t know this place!

Wind nodded. “You’re right. Come on, Gorse. Let’s go to our nest—quickly.” As she and the tabby tom slunk off down a gully, she glanced over her shoulder. “You’d better get back to the hollow as fast as you can,” she told the mountain cats. With a flourish of her tail, she added, “It’s that way.”

Gray Wing and the others had already risen to their paws. Leaving the last scraps of the pigeon, they raced across the moor. Gray Wing would have liked to move even faster, but he had to match his pace to Turtle Tail’s; with her extra weight, she was struggling to keep up. The barking continued behind them; Gray Wing couldn’t tell if they were outpacing the dogs.

“Are you okay?” he asked Turtle Tail. He could hear her panting.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Turtle Tail gasped. “Pull ahead if you need to.”

“Never!” Gray Wing retorted. “I’m not leaving you.”

Eventually the camp came into view. With Rainswept Flower in the lead they skidded down the slope.

“Dogs!” Gray Wing yowled.

More barking exploded into the air just behind them. How had the dogs been able to find their way here? Cold horror froze Gray Wing from ears to tail-tip. We’ve led the dogs straight to the camp. Our fresh scent has given us away!

Tall Shadow, who was sitting on the tall rock at the far end of the hollow, leaped to her paws. “Scatter!” she yowled. “Take cover!”

Hawk Swoop and Jackdaw’s Cry dived down the nearest tunnel, pushing Acorn Fur and Lightning Tail in front of them. Dappled Pelt and Cloud Spots raced up the opposite slope and vanished onto the moor. Rainswept Flower thrust herself into a gap between two boulders.

Gray Wing guided Turtle Tail toward his own sleeping tunnel and followed her inside, turning so that he could look out into the camp. Turtle Tail cowered beside him, their flanks pressed together.

The barking grew louder still. Gray Wing’s eyes stretched wide with fear and shock as two dogs shot over the lip of the hollow and down toward their friends. One of them was a rangy creature with a brindled pelt, the other was small and white. Their paws churned up moss as they bounded to and fro, sniffing at the mouths of the tunnels.