Эрин Хантер - Sunrise

Squirrelflight did not reply, just held his gaze without flinching.

“You couldn’t trust me,” he repeated. “Don’t you think I would have helped you, if you’d told me the truth? But it’s too late now.”

He turned away, shouldering a path through the crowd.

“Brambleclaw—” Squirrelflight took a pace after him, then halted, her head hanging and her tail drooping in despair.

Hollyleaf turned her back. Let her suffer. She deserves it!

A cat nudged her from behind. It was Cinderheart. “What have you done?” she cried.

Hollyleaf blinked in surprise. “I did the right thing.”

The gray she-cat shook her head. “There is no right thing. Everything to do with this leads to more pain.” The wisdom in her voice seemed to come from a much older and more experienced cat. Hollyleaf waited for her to say something else, something to show how sorry she felt for Hollyleaf and her littermates. But Cinderheart just turned and padded away.

Hollyleaf stared after her. Why didn’t she understand? Surely any cat could see that they couldn’t have carried on living a lie? Besides, StarClan hadn’t sent clouds to cover the moon. Her warrior ancestors must be pleased that the secrets were out and the deceit was at an end.

But none of the cats here seemed pleased. Not even her own Clanmates. Sandstorm was staring at her, bewilderment and sorrow in her green gaze. Graystripe’s amber eyes were blank with disbelief. Poppyfrost and Berrynose had their heads close together, talking urgently and shooting hostile glances at her.

Suddenly Hollyleaf couldn’t bear to be stared at for another heartbeat. Blundering through the crowd, she thrust through the bushes, ignoring the thorns that tore her pelt, and fled across the strip of pebbles and over the tree-bridge. Racing past the horseplace, she began to climb the ridge, skirting the WindClan border until she reached the very top and could look out over the lake.

A silver path of moonlight stretched across the surface of the water. The reflections of countless warriors of StarClan glittered around it.

“Was it all worth it?” Hollyleaf wailed to them. “Being an apprentice, working hard to learn the warrior code? What could any of us have done to make things different?”

The flickering stars gave her no answer.

Hollyleaf padded along the ridge until she reached her own territory and could plunge back into the trees. When she arrived in the stone hollow, everything was quiet. The Gathering patrol had not yet returned, and the other cats were asleep, except for Brightheart, on watch beside the entrance. Hollyleaf brushed past her, ignoring the she-cat’s greeting.

She stalked across the clearing in the bright wash of moonlight and entered the medicine cats’ den. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw there was no sign of Leafpool. I know what I’m going to do. All this is Leafpool’s fault.

Crawling right to the back of the storage cave, she found the leaf wrap with the deathberries and drew it out carefully. She placed it on the floor of the den and unfolded the leaf so the glossy red berries were exposed. They had begun to shrivel, but she knew they still held their deadly poison.

Hollyleaf sat beside the berries, wrapped her tail over her paws, and waited. Soon she heard a slow paw step outside, and Leafpool brushed past the bramble screen and stood in front of her.

“Hollyleaf.” She didn’t sound surprised to find her daughter there. Her eyes were full of weariness and sorrow. “It’s all right,” she mewed. “I forgive you.”

“What!” Hollyleaf sprang to her paws. “ You forgive me ? You’re the one who needs forgiveness! You abandoned your kits! You let us grow up in a web of lies, and now the warrior code might be broken forever because of your stupid, selfish actions.”

“Do you think you need to tell me that?” Leafpool asked, still with the same exhausted calm. “I can only tell you how much I love you. I’m so sorry for what I did.”

“And you expect me to forgive you?” Hollyleaf snarled. “Well, I don’t. I never will.” Fur bristling, she padded around Leafpool until she blocked the entrance to the den. “See those deathberries? You’re going to eat them—or I’ll make you!”

“What?” Leafpool sounded bewildered.

“Eat them! You deserve to die.” Hollyleaf crouched, ready to spring, when the medicine cat made no move toward the deadly berries. “I’ve killed once,” she snarled. “And I can do it again.”

A gleam of some emotion that Hollyleaf couldn’t read woke in her mother’s eyes. “Hollyleaf,” Leafpool meowed. “I have lost my kits, the one cat I loved, and my calling as a medicine cat. Which do you think would be easier for me, to die or to go on living?”

There was only one answer to that question. Silently Hollyleaf stood aside, and Leafpool padded past her and out of the den.

CHAPTER 28

Jayfeather slid through the thorn tunnel and stood panting in the middle of the clearing. He had raced back from the island as soon as the Gathering broke up, struggling through the mass of bewildered cats to get across the tree-bridge.

He scented Leafpool leaving their den; right now she was the last cat he wanted to talk to. Beyond her, fainter, he picked up Hollyleaf’s scent.

What’s she doing in our den? What did she say to Leafpool?

Darting across the clearing, he crashed through the brambles and confronted his littermate. “Hollyleaf! What are you doing here?” Sniffing, he detected another scent. “Why are those deathberries out here?”

“Leave me alone!” Hollyleaf screeched.

Before Jayfeather could dodge, she leaped at him, bowling him over and raking her claws across his shoulder. Jayfeather’s legs flailed and his hind paws connected with Hollyleaf’s belly. Her anger and despair flooded over him as she gave him a cuff over the ear and fled out of the den.

“Hollyleaf, wait!” Jayfeather scrambled to his paws and launched himself after her.

When he emerged into the clearing, Hollyleaf was already plunging into the thorn tunnel. Jayfeather raced after her, his belly fur brushing the ground as he broke out into the forest. The scents of more cats greeted him as the rest of the Gathering patrol returned to the camp.

“Jayfeather, what’s wrong?” Lionblaze called out. He turned and bounded along beside him. “What’s happening?” he gasped.

“It’s Hollyleaf,” Jayfeather panted. “We’ve got to catch her.”

Hollyleaf was heading deep into the forest, crashing through bracken and brambles as if she had suddenly lost her sight.

“Hollyleaf, come back!” Lionblaze yowled. “We need to talk!”

But Hollyleaf didn’t slacken her pace. Briefly she burst out onto the old Twoleg path that led past the abandoned den, then veered into the undergrowth again.

“I know where she’s going!” Jayfeather panted, feeling a chill run through him. “The old tunnels…”

“But she can’t!” Lionblaze sounded terrified. “Hollyleaf, stop!”

Racing around a bramble thicket, Jayfeather and Lionblaze came face-to-face with their sister; she had halted just inside the mouth of a tunnel halfway up the ridge, above the abandoned Twoleg nest. It wasn’t one Jayfeather had used before; there was a stale scent of fox, overlaid with the smell of water and stone drifting from the darkness behind her.

Jayfeather tried to speak calmly. “Hollyleaf, you’ve got to listen to us.”

Hollyleaf didn’t seem to hear. “I’m sorry,” she meowed softly. “I was only trying to do what was best. I couldn’t let Ashfur live! For all our sakes! You understand that, don’t you?”