Эрин Хантер - Sunrise

“This could be dangerous,” Brambleclaw meowed to Firestar. “It might be better to have one or two more cats.”

“True.” The Clan leader glanced around. “Lionblaze and Hollyleaf, then. You can leave at dawn.”

Lionblaze glanced at his sister; Hollyleaf’s neck fur was standing on end and her green eyes glittered, but whether it was from fear or excitement, he couldn’t tell.

Hazeltail leaped to her paws and padded across to Hollyleaf. “Isn’t this great?” she mewed. “We’re really going to do something to help our Clan.”

Hollyleaf flicked her ears; Lionblaze couldn’t hear what she said in reply. The rest of the Clan were crowding around the chosen cats, congratulating them and offering advice. Every other cat seemed fired up to track down and destroy a murderer; he was the only one reluctant to avenge Ashfur’s death.

A few moments before, he had been relieved that suspicion had moved away from ThunderClan. But laying the blame at Sol’s paws was no better. He didn’t want to be reminded of the Clan cats’ instinctive mistrust of outsiders, of cats who weren’t Clanborn.

What if I’m a rogue, too? Will they all turn against me?

CHAPTER 3

Jayfeather sat still while the rest of the Clan swirled around him, buzzing with tension and excitement.

“I’m scared.” Jayfeather recognized Bumblekit’s voice close by. “What if Sol comes into the camp and gets us?”

Jayfeather heard the rasp of a tongue, and pictured Millie giving her son a comforting lick. “Sol is far away, little one,” she murmured.

“And there are big, strong warriors here to guard us,” Daisy added. “Do you think that your father would let any cat lay a claw on you?”

Bumblekit’s tone brightened. “No! Graystripe is the best!”

Jayfeather wished he could be reassured as easily as the kit. He knew bad times were coming. Fear, suspicion, and accusation crashed over him from all sides, as if his Clanmates were hurling rocks at him. He felt sick and dizzy, and the ground under his paws didn’t seem solid anymore.

Beside him, he heard Mousefur heaving herself to her paws with a gusty sigh. “If Ashfur’s killer meant to stir up trouble, mission accomplished. That cat has stuck a nose into a nest of bees by taking one of our warriors.”

And that cat will get stung . But Jayfeather didn’t want to think about what might happen to Ashfur’s murderer.

He picked out Lionblaze from the mingled scents of ThunderClan cats, but his brother didn’t slow down as he padded past.

“So you’re going to find Sol,” Jayfeather called to him.

Lionblaze halted. “Yes.”

Jayfeather was desperate to talk to his brother as they always did: easily, with nothing left unspoken. But the secret they had shared since the night of the storm made it impossible.

The awkward silence was broken by Hollyleaf padding up to them.

“You never told us you’d seen Sol,” Jayfeather meowed.

He could imagine his sister’s shrug. “It didn’t matter then.”

“Even so, you should have said something.” Lionblaze sounded upset. “You know Sol was supposed to help us with the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” Hollyleaf snapped. “There isn’t a prophecy, as far as we’re concerned.”

“You didn’t know that when you saw Sol.”

Jayfeather winced as he listened to them bicker. There was no point to their argument, except that it stopped them from discussing the only thing that mattered: whether any of them believed that Sol had killed Ashfur.

I’m glad I’m not going, he told himself. I don’t want to listen to them all the way to the sun-drown-place and back!

Leafpool’s voice cut across his thoughts. “Jayfeather, there you are! I want you to come help me prepare herbs for the patrol.”

“Okay, coming.”

He rose to his paws and followed his mentor back to the medicine cats’ den, leaving Hollyleaf and Lionblaze to their squabbling. As soon as he brushed past the bramble screen, his mouth filled with the scent of the traveling herbs.

“I’ve laid everything out,” Leafpool told him. “We just have to make them into leaf wraps.”

It was a relief to have something to distract him, but the task was soon done, and he emerged into the clearing again with a leaf wrap for Brambleclaw clamped between his jaws. By now the excitement over the patrol was beginning to die down, and the cats were returning to their dens. Distinguishing Brambleclaw’s scent from the tang of the herbs he carried was difficult, but Jayfeather finally located him with Squirrelflight near the fresh-kill pile.

“I wish you were coming with us,” Brambleclaw was mewing to his mate as Jayfeather padded up. “We have so many good memories from that journey.”

Jayfeather caught the wistful note in his voice. It was as if the Clan deputy was looking back to a good time that was over, and regretting everything that had gone wrong since.

I wonder if he knows how wrong?

“I wish I was coming, too,” Squirrelflight replied, her voice subdued. “But I’m probably not fit enough for a long journey, after the wound I took in the battle.”

“There’s no need to worry about Sol, you know,” Brambleclaw reassured her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know.” Squirrelflight sighed.

Jayfeather’s pelt prickled. Squirrelflight had never needed another cat to keep her safe! Once she would have clawed the ears off any cat who suggested it. But now she sounded…broken; waves of guilt and longing were coming from her, so strongly that Jayfeather almost felt sorry for her.

He brushed past her and set the wrap of herbs down at Brambleclaw’s paws. “Here,” he announced. “Traveling herbs. Eat them all, and get plenty of rest before tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Jayfeather.”

“Hey, Brambleclaw!” Graystripe’s voice came from across the clearing; Jayfeather heard his paw steps as he bounded up. “Firestar wants me to act as deputy while you’re away. Can I have a word with you about border patrols?”

“Sure.” Brambleclaw gulped the herbs down quickly. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, I think a few cats are still worried about WindClan….”

The voices of the two toms faded as they padded across the clearing. Jayfeather had turned back toward his den when Squirrelflight intercepted him.

“Jayfeather, I want to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing left to say,” Jayfeather snapped. And I don’t want to hear anything you might have to tell me. He veered around the cat he had thought was his mother and headed toward his den. He felt hollow, as if a vast emptiness had opened up inside him. For so long he had depended on the prophecy to tell him who he was and what his destiny would be; without it, was he going to be just a medicine cat for the rest of his life? And where’s the cat who gave birth to us? What happened to her?

Jayfeather hated feeling that he wasn’t in control anymore. Unsettled, he blundered into the brambles that screened the medicine cats’ den. His paws tangled in a long tendril; thorns raked through his pelt and scratched his nose. He let out a startled yowl.

“Jayfeather!” Leafpool was instantly by his side. “Keep still. I’ll get you out.”

“I’m fine,” Jayfeather growled. He’d never made a mistake like that, not even when he was a kit! He tugged himself free of the brambles and felt a clump of fur tear out as he stumbled into the den.

“Are you all right?” Leafpool’s voice was anxious. “Your nose is bleeding. I’ll get some cobweb.”