Эрин Хантер - Fading Echoes

“Firestar wants us to try a different way,” Cinderheart reminded the small gray-and-white she-cat.

“Firestar has a new training technique every moon these days,” Thornclaw muttered, padding toward the entrance. “This is pointless,” he growled. “By the time we’ve figured out this way of training, Firestar will have come up with something else.” He disappeared through the tunnel, the mist closing after him.

“Come on,” Cinderheart urged.

Ivypaw hurried after Blossompaw and her littermates as they pushed their way out of the camp.

“You two will hunt by the lake,” Cinderheart announced. She signaled to Briarpaw and Bumblepaw with her tail and the apprentices darted away, heading for the shore. Cinderheart looked at Ivypaw. “Be careful,” she warned. “Don’t forget you’re just helping. You’ve got nothing to prove.”

Except that I’m as good a hunter as my sister. Wait till they see what I learned in my dream!

Ivypaw dug her claws into the soft, damp earth as she watched Cinderheart trot toward the lake with Mousewhisker, Hazeltail, and Spiderleg, quickening their pace as their apprentices hared off, clearly keen to make their first catch.

“Where are we hunting?” Blossompaw asked Dustpelt.

Dustpelt glanced questioningly at Thornclaw. “The abandoned Twolegplace?”

The golden brown warrior nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Blossompaw flicked Ivypaw’s flank with her tail-tip. “Come on.” She pelted into the trees and Ivypaw raced after her, wishing she had longer legs as the older apprentice gathered speed and leaped the ruts and gullies in easy strides.

She was panting by the time she spotted the cracked stones of the abandoned Twolegplace. Blossompaw was waiting on the wall surrounding the tumbledown nest. “You can’t even keep up,” she scoffed.

“We’re supposed to be showing them we can work together,” Ivypaw snapped.

“Like I’m going to give you the chance to hold me back.” Blossompaw jumped down from the wall and headed past the plants Jayfeather had carefully nurtured. The scent of them made Ivypaw’s mouth water, but she knew the warning given to every Clan cat: Stay away from the catmint . It was the only cure for greencough, and more precious than poppy seeds.

As she disappeared around the corner of the wall, Blossompaw called over her shoulder, “Just stay out of my way!”

Ivypaw’s heart quickened with rage. How come everyone thought Dovepaw was so great and she was just a mouse-brain? I’ll show them!

She padded past the wall and ducked into the echoing Twoleg den. A jagged stone slope rose up to a hole in the roof and she scooted up it and peeked through a gap in the wall at the top. Blossompaw was tracking something in the unkempt grass below. Ivypaw couldn’t see what, but the tortoiseshell apprentice was moving intently through the tangled weeds.

Suddenly Ivypaw spotted movement at the bottom of the wall. Peering to see what it was, she pushed away a wave of dizziness, then turned and pelted down the jagged slope, the neatly cornered stones a blur beneath her paws. Treading lightly but fast, she nipped out of the nest and darted around the corner. There it was! A squirrel, rummaging in the plants at the bottom of the wall.

Remembering Hawkfrost’s instructions, she crouched down, keeping her back low so that it didn’t brush the branches arching from the rocks.

The squirrel was busy feasting on seeds it had shaken from a clump of dried-up flowers. Ivypaw slowed, preparing, letting awareness spread through her muscles, then sprang, flattening her back as she swerved around the plants. Her paws reached the squirrel with a curling swipe before it could see her and she grasped it and nipped it with a single killing bite.

Thanks, Hawkfrost!

“Impressive!” Thornclaw’s mew startled her and she swung around, the squirrel dangling from her jaws. The warrior was trotting toward her with Dustpelt on his tail.

“Where did you learn that move?” Dustpelt asked, his eyes wide. “You looked like you were hooking a fish out of water!”

Ivypaw gazed back innocently. There was no reason she had to give away her secret. “I guess it was just…instinct.”

The tall weeds beside them swished and Blossompaw came stomping out. “What’s all the noise about?” she spat. “I was stalking a rat and you scared it away!”

Dustpelt tipped his head to one side. “Weren’t you helping to catch this squirrel?”

“I thought you were working in pairs,” Thornclaw added.

Blossompaw bristled. “She was supposed to be helping me , not the other way around.”

You told me to stay out of the way! Ivypaw glared at her denmate but kept her mouth shut.

“Then why was she here while you were trawling through the undergrowth?” Dustpelt queried. “You’re supposed to be organizing a hunting pair. You should have told her where you wanted her.”

“Okay,” Blossompaw huffed. She flicked her tail at Ivypaw. “Come with me.” Turning, she pushed her way back into the jungle of weeds.

Ivypaw dropped the squirrel and flashed a rueful glance at the two warriors before following.

“What did you have to show me up for?” Blossompaw hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. “This is my assessment, remember?”

“Okay, then.” Ivypaw was still feeling pleased from her catch. “What do you want me to do?”

Blossompaw nodded toward the pine trees on the far side of the abandoned Twoleg nest. “We’ll hunt in there.”

They padded between the trunks. The crowded trees blocked the daylight, which was dull anyway. Ivypaw could taste the coming rain. Wisps of mist still lingered, but little undergrowth thrived here and it was easy to spot prey.

“There!” Blossompaw hissed.

A blackbird was rooting along the needle-strewn floor. There was no cover to hide their approach, but if they worked as a team, they might be able to trap it between them.

“Perfect,” Blossompaw murmured. “You head that way; I’ll come at it from the other side.” She nodded Ivypaw away, adding, “Keep low, and don’t drag your paws.”

“I’m not a kit!” Ivypaw hissed back.

Before Blossompaw could give her any more obvious instructions, she crept fast between the trees, keeping down but not letting her belly or tail brush the floor. She fixed her eyes on the blackbird, not allowing her gaze to stray even when trees passed between her and their quarry. It had hold of a worm and was struggling to drag it out of the ground.

Blossompaw’s pelt flashed at the edge of Ivypaw’s vision. She ignored it, padding closer and closer until she was only a few tail-lengths from the bird. Then she halted. This is Blossompaw’s assessment, she reminded herself, fighting the urge to pounce. She knew she could get it, with Hawkfrost’s lesson still fresh in her mind.

Where was Blossompaw? The blackbird was winning the struggle with the worm. It would fly away any moment. Ivypaw narrowed her eyes. Perhaps she should catch it, just to make sure. She began to waggle her haunches, ready to leap.

A flash of tortoiseshell fur made her freeze as Blossompaw flew at the bird, paws outstretched, hind legs hitting the ground a moment too early. She managed to clasp the blackbird in her forepaws but there was no grace in the catch. The blackbird struggled, frantic wings battering the earth and sending pine needles flying while Blossompaw regained her balance enough to make the killing bite.

Hawkfrost would have sneered at such a clumsy catch. For a moment the scent of night washed over Ivypaw’s tongue, bringing a vivid image of the warrior tom to her mind and the dark forest musk that clung to his thick pelt.