Эрин Хантер - Fading Echoes

Jayfeather pushed away the prick of sympathy plucking at his heart as they headed on; then Littlecloud spoke again.

“We all make mistakes,” he murmured. “Some have echoes that last forever.”

Flametail was already scrambling up the waterfall a few tail-lengths ahead. By the time Jayfeather had clawed his way to the top, the ShadowClan apprentice and Mothwing were already settled beside the Moonpool. Willowshine was still looking for a space.

Littlecloud padded down to join them.

“You were right, Littlecloud,” Kestrelflight called. “It is more sheltered here.”

Jayfeather followed the paw prints spiraling down to the pool, dimples made over countless moons. He waited for the whispers that always called him to share with his ancestors, but heard only the wind whining above the rocks.

A desolate pang opened in his belly. No ancient pelts brushing his? No murmuring welcome? No half-familiar scents?

Were they angry he’d broken Rock’s stick?

I’m sorry! he wailed silently.

Mothwing’s breathing had already deepened into sleep by the time he settled beside the Moonpool. It would be pointless probing her dreams. If StarClan never visited her, it was hardly likely any cat from the Dark Forest would make it through her barrier of disbelief.

Flametail was most likely to hold clues about Tigerheart. But Littlecloud or Willowshine might betray fresh information. They might have their worries too. They may have seen a Clanmate acting strangely or have treated unexplained wounds.

Perhaps it was best simply to walk alone among his ancestors?

Jayfeather touched his nose to the cold, clear water and closed his eyes.

A world opened before him, green and lush. Warm breezes enfolded him and the smell of fresh prey touched his nose. Sunlight slanted through the trees as he padded through the long grass.

A familiar, matted pelt moved through the undergrowth ahead. Jayfeather recognized it at once. He broke into a trot. He was about to call out when another cat jumped out from the long grass and greeted the shaggy StarClan warrior.

“Yellowfang!”

“Hi, Flametail!”

Jayfeather halted, pricking his ears.

“Runningnose wants to speak with you,” Yellowfang told Flametail.

I wonder what the old ShadowClan medicine cat has to say?

Jayfeather ducked into the ferns and began to shadow Flametail’s path through the trees.

“Don’t you ever learn?”

Jayfeather reared in surprise as Yellowfang landed a whisker ahead of him.

He bristled. “He jumped into my dream!”

“And asked you to follow him?” Yellowfang’s amber gaze was sharp with rebuke.

“You don’t know everything!” Jayfeather growled. He could see Flametail disappearing into the undergrowth.

“I know you need to trust him,” Yellowfang snapped back. “He’s a medicine cat.”

“ Leafpool was a medicine cat.” Jayfeather snorted.

Yellowfang narrowed her eyes and Jayfeather tensed, waiting for the lecture. But no lecture came. Instead she looked thoughtful. “You said I don’t know everything ,” she murmured. “Tell me, what don’t I know?”

“Where do I start?” Jayfeather huffed.

Yellowfang growled. “There’s no time for smart replies.” Her eyes darkened. “Several StarClan cats are troubled. Something bad is coming. This might be what the Three will be needed for.”

Jayfeather tensed. “Something bad? Do you know what it is?”

Yellowfang shook her head. “We were hoping you’d know.”

“All we know,” Jayfeather told her, “is that Tigerstar is training warriors from different Clans in their dreams. Hawkfrost might be working with him.”

Yellowfang’s eyes stretched. “Training them? Why?”

“The Dark Forest is rising.” Jayfeather heard the words fall from his lips. His heart quickened. “The Dark Forest is rising against us.”

“What do you mean?” Yellowfang’s fur was on end.

“Tigerstar is training cats to fight us. He’s already trained Breezepelt. I fought him by the Moonpool. But not just him. Another cat fought with him. A cat from the Dark Forest.”

“Who?” Yellowfang pressed her muzzle closer.

“I don’t know,” Jayfeather answered. “He was big and dark pelted. I didn’t recognize him.”

“You think he’s working with Tigerstar?”

“And Hawkfrost.” Jayfeather felt suddenly cold. “I don’t know how many there are. But they’re entering cats’ dreams—cats who have a grudge against us or who are kin to them. They’re training them to fight.”

“You suspect Flametail’s one of their recruits?” Yellowfang’s eyes flashed with horror. “He’s a medicine cat!”

“We don’t know who we can trust,” Jayfeather fretted. “Tigerheart’s been crossing our border at night. And he might not be the only one. I promised Lionblaze I’d try to find out if there are others. Perhaps RiverClan cats. Kin of Hawkfrost.”

Yellowfang sat down, forcing her fur flat. “Then they were right to be worried.” She was muttering to herself.

“ Who was right?” Fear pricked in Jayfeather’s paws. “StarClan?” How could StarClan be worried? It was StarClan . Dread began to run like cold water along his spine. “What should we do?”

Yellowfang looked into the distance, her grave amber gaze stretching far past Jayfeather.

“We must go to the Dark Forest.”

Trees in full leaf whispered gently in the breeze. Yellowfang hopped over a narrow stream that meandered through the long grass. Jayfeather followed, relishing the warm lushness underpaw after walking the dried-leaf floor of the forest. She led him through flourishing bushes that brushed their pelts with dew and pollen as they passed.

A meadow stretched ahead, graced by trees, flecked with flowers, aglow in the slanting sunlight. Warriors, sleek and content, walked through the long grass, or stretched in sunny hollows, their pelts soft in the sun. A tabby crouched, rump waggling, before pouncing after a plump mouse. A white cat with rose-tipped paws stretched up the cracked trunk of an ash tree and plucked happily at the bark while she watched a squirrel bobbing along a high branch. With a sudden bound she scooted upward and was swallowed by the fluttering leaves.

Jayfeather tasted the air. Half-familiar scents floated in the breeze: WindClan, ShadowClan, ThunderClan, and RiverClan.

“Hi, Silverstream,” Yellowfang purred to a gray tabby padding from a swath of ferns.

“Yellowfang.” The tabby nodded. “Have you seen Feathertail?”

“She was resting at Warm-rocks earlier.”

“Thanks.” Silverstream slid away through the grass, her tail-tip flicking.

Jayfeather narrowed his eyes. “No quarrels. No leaf-bare. No hunger,” he observed. “No wonder everyone seems so content.”

Yellowfang’s eyes darkened. “We never cease watching and worrying over those left behind.”

Jayfeather shrugged. “If this is where we’re heading, what is there to worry about?”

“No cat enjoys another’s suffering. And not every path leads here,” Yellowfang answered.

With a shiver, Jayfeather remembered where they were going.

Another familiar pelt caught his eye. Frighteningly familiar. Blazing ginger fur, large pricked ears, emerald gaze—the slender tom weaved through the bushes ahead. He seemed paler than the other cats, almost invisible. And yet he was there.

“Firestar?” Jayfeather breathed.

“Not quite,” Yellowfang mewed gently. “Five of his lives are here, but he won’t be able to hear or speak until his ninth life has joined us.”