Эрин Хантер - The Fourth Apprentice

The two deputies were still for a couple of heartbeats, their gazes locked together. Lionblaze guessed that Brambleclaw was wondering whether to insist on seeing Leopardstar. Come on, Brambleclaw. You’re not going to win an argument, or a fight, right here in RiverClan’s camp!

Beside him, Dovepaw stood with her ears alert and her whiskers twitching, while her brilliant golden gaze seemed to bore through the undergrowth right into the RiverClan camp.

I wish she really could see what’s going on there , Lionblaze thought. There’s something that RiverClan isn’t telling us.

Eventually Brambleclaw dipped his head. “Then we’ll say good-bye, Mistyfoot. Please give Firestar’s respects to Leopardstar. And may StarClan light your path.”

Mistyfoot looked relieved. “And yours, Brambleclaw,” she replied. “Thank you for helping our warrior.” Beckoning to Rainstorm with her tail, she turned and disappeared into the undergrowth, heading for the center of the camp. Rainstorm gave an awkward nod to the ThunderClan cats, muttered, “Thanks,” and followed her.

“Well!” Sorreltail exclaimed. “He could have sounded a bit more grateful! Any cat would think we’d pulled his tail out.”

Brambleclaw shrugged. “No cat likes to admit they needed help from another Clan. Come on.” He bounded back across the dried-up stream, making rapidly for the edge of the territory. Brackenfur and Sorreltail kept pace with him, and Lionblaze and Dovepaw brought up the rear, glancing over their shoulders every now and then to make sure no RiverClan cats were following them.

“Lionblaze,” Dovepaw panted as her shorter legs struggled to keep up, “was that blue-furred cat the RiverClan deputy?”

“That’s right: Mistyfoot. She’s a great cat.”

“She’s very worried, isn’t she?”

Lionblaze was faintly surprised at his apprentice’s comment. He’d guessed there were things Mistyfoot wasn’t telling them, but he wouldn’t have said she was worried. “Every cat is worried about the drought and the shortage of prey,” he pointed out.

Dovepaw shook her head. “Oh, I think it’s more than that, don’t you? I think she must be worried about the sick cat.”

Lionblaze halted at the edge of the muddy bottom of the lake and stared at her. “What sick cat?”

“There’s a very sick cat in the RiverClan camp,” Dovepaw meowed, her pale golden eyes wide with surprise. “Couldn’t you tell?”

A paw clipping against her ear woke Dovepaw; keeping her eyes closed, she batted irritably at it. “Get off, Ivypaw! I need to sleep.” Nearly a moon had passed since the apprentice ceremony, and the day before, their mentors had given them their first assessment, on the far side of the territory. Dovepaw couldn’t remember ever being so tired. She’d never realized how nerve-racking it was to have invisible eyes watching her every move!

The paw cuffed her again, lightly, but with a hint of claws.

Dovepaw’s eyes flew open. “Ivypaw, if you don’t stop, I’ll—”

She broke off, staring. Standing over her was a cat she had never seen before: a she-cat with matted gray fur and amber eyes. Her jaws were parted in the beginnings of a snarl, revealing two rows of snaggly teeth.

Dovepaw sprang up into a crouch, ready to tackle this strange cat who had managed to sneak into ThunderClan’s camp. “Who are you? What do you want?” she growled, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“You,” the strange cat replied.

Struggling not to panic, Dovepaw gazed around the apprentices’ den. Moonlight filtering through the ferns that covered the entrance showed her Ivypaw and the rest of her denmates curled up and sound asleep.

“Ivypaw!” Dovepaw gave her sister a hard shove. “Wake up! Help!”

Ivypaw didn’t move. Dovepaw looked up at the intruder, fear giving way to anger. “What have you done to her?”

“Nothing,” the she-cat replied, annoyance sparking in her amber eyes. “Now do as you’re told and follow me.”

Dovepaw wanted to ask why she should do anything the she-cat told her, but something compelled her to rise to her paws and scramble out of the apprentices’ den. The clearing lay silent in a wash of moonlight, the shadows lying black against the silver walls. Toadstep, on guard at the entrance to the thorn tunnel, was as still as a cat made of stone, and didn’t twitch a whisker as the mysterious she-cat led Dovepaw out into the forest.

This is weird , Dovepaw thought. What’s happening to me? Even the forest didn’t look familiar; the sparse, shriveled undergrowth was full and lush, and the grass underneath her paws felt cool and fresh.

“Where are we going?” she called, stumbling over a fallen branch that lay in the shadow of a bramble thicket. “I shouldn’t be sneaking out at night like this. I’ll get into trouble…”

“Stop complaining,” the gray she-cat snapped. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She led Dovepaw through the trees; gradually the undergrowth thinned out and more moonlight broke through. A fresh breeze began to blow, bringing with it the scent of water. Dovepaw paused for a heartbeat to let it ruffle her fur, rejoicing in its coolness after so many days of unrelenting heat.

“Come on.” The she-cat had halted beneath a tree a few fox-lengths ahead. “Come and look at this.”

Dovepaw bounded over to her side and stared in astonishment. The trees gave way to a strip of rough grass; beyond it water stretched out almost as far as she could see, its ridged surface silvered by the moonlight. Gentle lapping filled her ears, steady as a queen licking a kit in the nursery.

“This—this is the lake!” she stammered. “But it’s full! I’ve never seen so much water. Am I dreaming?”

“At last!” the she-cat commented sarcastically. “Are they filling the apprentices’ heads with thistledown these days? Of course you’re dreaming.”

For the first time Dovepaw noticed the faint shimmer of starlight around the she-cat’s paws. “Are you from StarClan?” she whispered.

“I am,” the she-cat replied. “And once I was your Clanmate.”

“Then can’t you do something to help ThunderClan?” Dovepaw asked; fear and excitement made her voice quiver. “We’re having such a hard time.”

“Hard times come to every Clan in every season,” the old gray cat replied. “The warrior code doesn’t offer the promise of an easy life. There will be much debate and fighting—”

“Fighting?” Dovepaw interrupted, horrified, then slapped her tail across her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Blood is spilled in every generation,” the she-cat went on. Her amber gaze softened, and Dovepaw became aware of an intense kindliness behind the rough exterior. “Yet there is always hope, just as the sun always rises.”

Her figure began to fade; Dovepaw could see the silver waters of the lake through her gray fur.

“Don’t go!” she begged.

The gray she-cat faded even more, until she was barely a wisp of smoke, and then entirely gone. As the last traces of her faded, Dovepaw thought that she heard her voice again, whispering gently into her ear.

After the sharp-eyed jay and the roaring lion, peace will come on dove’s gentle wing.

Dovepaw woke with a start, her heart pounding, and sprang to her paws in one swift movement. I’m here in my den! So it was a dream … Dawn light was filtering through the ferns at the entrance, and she could hear cats calling to one another in the clearing as they prepared for the new day.