Эрин Хантер - Fading Echoes

He felt pebbles beneath his paws as he neared the water’s edge. A yowl rose from his belly. “I’m sorry! Rock! I didn’t mean it!” He drew the dank night air over his tongue, trying to catch some hint of the ancient cat’s scent, but tasted nothing but dying leaves and water. Fear yawned like a dark pit in his belly. Rock knew about the prophecy long before StarClan crowded Silverpelt, and Jayfeather had broken the only link he’d had with the blind old cat.

“Oh, Rock! Please! I need to know!”

The wind blew Jayfeather’s pleas back into his face. But he knew Rock heard him, could reply if he wanted.

Angrily, Jayfeather headed along the shore to where the stream tumbled out of the forest. He padded up the bank, picking his way carefully over the tangle of roots, heading upstream into the trees. When the stream narrowed, he leaped over it, careful not to let his tail fall into the cold, chattering water.

The damp earth felt good underpaw and he broke into a trot. He focused his senses harder so that he could run among the trees, sharply aware of the space around him, his whiskers and nose mapping his course, his ear fur pricked for the muting of sound that signaled the thickening of the undergrowth ahead.

Suddenly a leaf crackled. A bitter tang spiked his nostrils.

ShadowClan!

Was he that close to the border already? He slowed and padded forward cautiously, sniffing. Border markers dotted the trees ahead. They were fresh. Had ShadowClan started night patrols? He sniffed again. The scent belonged to a single tom. Why would one cat be out scent marking by himself?

A yowl ripped the air. Unsheathed claws slammed into Jayfeather’s shoulders, thrusting him into the leafy soil. He spluttered and shoved himself upward, rage firing his muscles. He flung off his attacker, recognizing the scent.

“Tigerheart!”

It was Tawnypelt’s son.

The young ShadowClan tom scrabbled to his paws. “S-sorry!”

Jayfeather sensed shame flooding Tigerheart’s pelt as the young tom realized he’d attacked a medicine cat.

“I didn’t realize it was you.” The earth whispered as Tigerheart sheathed his claws. “I thought you were trespassing.”

“Medicine cats can go where they need to,” Jayfeather reminded him.

“I—I know,” Tigerheart stammered. “What are you doing here? At night, I mean. Do you need something from Shadow Clan? I can take you to Blackstar. Were you on your way somewhere?”

While Tigerheart gabbled, Jayfeather smoothed his ruffled fur and tasted the air, listening for waves on the shore and the tone of the wind in the trees, trying to figure out exactly where he was. Far from the shore, close to the ShadowClan border, close enough to be knocked onto the wrong side by a clumsy attack from a young warrior. Realizing the markers were behind him, Jayfeather carefully edged backward until he was sure his paws were back in his own territory. A medicine cat could roam where he pleased, but not without good reason.

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” Jayfeather hid his own discomfort by questioning Tigerheart. “Are you on patrol?”

“S-sort of.” Tigerheart shifted his paws. “Anyway, it’s none of your business.” His mew hardened.

He’s being very defensive. Jayfeather leaned closer. “ShadowClan doesn’t usually send out lone patrols in the middle of the night.”

“ThunderClan doesn’t send out lone medicine cats,” Tigerheart countered.

Cheeky cub! “You should go back to your den,” Jayfeather snapped. “You must have training tomorrow.”

To his surprise, Tigerheart backed off. “Okay.” Turning, the young tom scampered away into the trees.

As Jayfeather sniffed his fading scent, another touched his nose. It seemed oddly familiar as it wreathed around him but he couldn’t place it.

The fur on his shoulders prickled. Stiffening, Jayfeather felt himself being watched. He spun around, tasting the air, ears pricked, frustrated by his blindness. Was a cat observing him from the shadows? No sound. No scent, other than those Tigerheart had left.

Jayfeather shook out his fur. Don’t be mouse-brained! Tasting dawn, he ducked through a hazel bush and headed home.

Who’d be watching me at this time of night?

Cold raindrops showered from the roof as Ivypaw pushed her way through the entrance and flung herself into her nest, making the whole den shudder.

“Hey!” Blossompaw sat up, shaking out her pelt.

Dovepaw blinked open her eyes. Was it dawn already? She felt heavy with sleep after yesterday’s long training session with Lionblaze. He’d made her test her senses to their limit, insisting she keep her awareness spread to the very edges of their territory while she hunted for the Clan.

“Have a nice sleep?” Ivypaw asked crossly.

Gray light was seeping through the yew branches. Far above the hollow, the forest roared in the wind. Ivypaw’s pelt clung, sodden and dripping, to her small frame.

Another stormy day.

Dovepaw stretched and yawned. “Have you been out already?”

“Dawn patrol,” Ivypaw huffed. “I don’t see why Brambleclaw made me go while he let you sleep in.”

Dovepaw pricked her ears. Did Firestar tell his deputy about her powers so that he would make allowances too? Why couldn’t they treat her like an ordinary apprentice? She stiffened as Ivypaw went on.

“What’s so special about you?” Ivypaw muttered. “I’ve seen Firestar watching you when he thinks no one’s looking. Now Brambleclaw’s started treating you like you’ve just come down from Silverpelt.”

“I guess they’re just making sure we’re following the rules,” Dovepaw soothed, hoping Ivypaw would believe her.

“And the rule is that you get to lie in a warm den while I’m out trudging through the rain?” Ivypaw snapped.

Blossompaw was washing the drips from her pelt. “We all have to do dawn patrols sometimes,” she pointed out.

“Some of us more often than others,” Ivypaw growled.

“Perhaps Brambleclaw’s got something planned for me,” Dovepaw mewed.

“What? Like an extra rabbit for breakfast?” Ivypaw curled down into her nest with her back toward Dovepaw.

“I’m sorry you had to go out without me.” Dovepaw began lapping at the raindrops caught in Ivypaw’s pelt. I wish they’d send me on the same patrols as Ivypaw, just to make it fair. “At least we’re allowed out of camp now,” she mewed between licks.

“Huh!” Ivypaw grumped, but Dovepaw could feel her relaxing.

“They can’t punish you forever,” Blossompaw mewed.

The two apprentices had been confined to camp for a quarter moon as part of their punishment for crossing the border into WindClan territory. Dovepaw couldn’t help thinking the elders’ den and nursery had never been so clean. They had spent every day dragging bracken in and out of the dens until Ivypaw was convinced they’d made every cat in the Clan a new nest.

“Dovepaw!” Lionblaze’s call sounded through the yew branches.

Ivypaw snorted. “Great timing,” she complained. “You were just getting to my itchy spot.”

“Sorry,” Dovepaw apologized. “Got to go.” She leaped from her nest and pushed her way out of the den into a haze of rain. “What is it?”

Lionblaze was sitting, whiskers dripping, in the rain-soaked clearing. “Hear anything?”

Dovepaw sighed. This had become his usual greeting. Did he think she was nothing more than a pair of gigantic walking ears?