Эрин Хантер - Eclipse

“Thanks.” Jaypaw licked her ear. Their quarrel was a long way from his mind right now. “That was the most amazing thing ever!”

“Yes, it was,” Leafpool murmured.

Was that sadness in her mew ? Jaypaw wondered. She certainly didn’t seem as elated as he was; his paws felt lighter than the breeze, as if he could fly right out of the hollow and over the trees. Perhaps Leafpool had helped so many cats give birth that it didn’t stir her anymore. Or perhaps she was envious of the way the tiny kits knew instantly who their mother was, and loved her fiercely from their very first breath. Jaypaw’s paw steps slowed as he tried to imagine how Leafpool really felt watching new lives being born. Did she feel sorry that she would never have kits of her own?

Jaypaw slept late. When he finally padded out into the clearing, his thoughts bleary with sleep, hot sunshine warmed his back. The fresh-kill pile smelled delicious, and, hungry after his night’s work, he dragged a mouse from the top and began to eat.

“I heard you delivered your first kits!” Hollypaw hurried up to him and rubbed his cheek with her muzzle. “I wish I could have been there.”

“It was great,” Jaypaw mewed between mouthfuls.

Graystripe squeezed out of the nursery. Happiness shone from him warmer than the sun as he padded across the clearing.

“Congratulations, Graystripe!” Longtail called.

Cinderpaw paused from her washing as Graystripe passed the apprentice den. “Is Millie all right?”

“She’s perfect ,” Graystripe answered. “And so are the kits.”

“I can’t wait to see them!” Icepaw was bouncing around the clearing.

“We’ve seen them already!” Toadkit boasted. “Bumblekit is going to play with me when he’s a bit bigger.”

“They’re really cute!” Rosekit added. “Especially Blossomkit. She’s so tiny!”

Jaypaw could hear Graystripe nosing through the fresh-kill pile.

“Millie will be hungry,” Mousefur called from outside the elders’ den.

“And she’s going to eat the best piece of prey I can find,” Graystripe called back.

Sorreltail kneaded the ground. “What do the kits look like?”

“Briarkit is dark brown, Blossomkit is tortoiseshell and white,” Graystripe reported, “and the tom, Bumblekit, is gray with black stripes.”

Dustpelt was washing beside the halfrock. “At least they’ll have proper warrior names,” he muttered. He had clearly not forgotten that Millie had refused a Clan name.

Graystripe took no notice of the striped warrior. He returned to rummaging through the fresh-kill pile until Firestar bounded down from Highledge.

“You chose fine Clan names.” The ThunderClan leader sounded excited for his old friend, though Jaypaw detected sorrow running like a spider’s web between the two warriors, as though they shared a sad memory. Was it connected with the silver tabby Jaypaw had seen in his dream?

“You should have called Blossomkit Squealkit, because that’s all she does!” Toadkit mewed.

“Don’t be mean!” Rosekit gasped. Fur brushed the dusty ground as the two kits tumbled into a fight.

“Stop it, you two!” Spiderleg’s stern mew echoed around the hollow as he separated his kits.

“We were just playing,” Toadkit complained.

“Well, play something quieter!” Spiderleg snapped. “I don’t envy you, Graystripe. Two kits are hard enough.” Then he yelped in pain. “When I told you to play something else, Toadkit, I didn’t mean attacking my tail!”

The thorn barrier rattled. Jaypaw swallowed the last of his mouse and tasted the air. Brambleclaw, Ashfur, and Lionpaw were padding into the camp. They headed to the fresh-kill pile and dropped their prey.

“Where’s the dawn patrol?” Brambleclaw called. “They should be back by now.”

“Who was on it?” Spiderleg asked.

“Thornclaw, Poppyfrost, and Birchfall.” Guilt was prickling Firestar’s pelt. He should have noticed they were missing.

Jaypaw concentrated on the camp, scanning it for signs or smells of the three missing warriors.

“Perhaps they decided to hunt,” Graystripe suggested.

“They’re supposed to report straight back,” Brambleclaw pointed out.

“It must be quiet in the forest,” Spiderleg guessed.

Jaypaw could smell only stale scents of the three warriors.

He cast his mind farther, beyond the walls of the camp. If they were close to the hollow he might be able to pick up a stray thought or feeling. He could picture trees and bushes, a landscape built of images glimpsed in his dreams. But no sign of his Clanmates.

Suddenly his mind emptied and blackness crowded in, smothering his thoughts. Coldness gripped him, seeping into his flesh, chilling his bones. He tried to breathe, but the emptiness choked him, crushing him like water, drowning him in its terrible darkness.

Then it vanished, and he could picture the forest again, green and quiet.

Jaypaw gasped for breath, his flanks heaving as he sucked in clean, bright air.

“Are you all right?” Leafpool was crouching beside him.

Hollypaw pressed against his pelt. “What’s wrong with him?” she wailed.

How much time had passed?

Graystripe was still standing at the fresh-kill pile with a vole dangling from his jaws. Spiderleg was still chasing Toadkit away from his tail. The vision had only overtaken him for a heartbeat or two.

“Something’s coming,” Jaypaw croaked. “Something”—he broke off as terror seized him again—“something dark!”

Leafpool didn’t comment. Her attention had been snatched away by the rustling of the barrier.

“Poppyfrost!” Firestar greeted the young warrior as she padded out of the thorns. Then the ThunderClan leader’s mew sharpened. “Are you okay?”

Poppyfrost was ruff led and nervous. Birchfall followed her, his paw steps hesitant. Jaypaw leaned forward, every hair on his pelt tingling. Unfamiliar paw steps were padding through the tunnel. A new scent filled his nose as a strange tom entered the hollow.

“Who is it?” Jaypaw demanded under his breath.

“I don’t know,” Hollypaw whispered back.

“What does he look like?”

Hollypaw didn’t answer, her thoughts drawn to the stranger.

Jaypaw tasted the air. The tom carried the scent of heather on his pelt, and the clean smell of wind and water, but nothing else familiar. He tried searching the tom’s mind but found himself dazzled by countless thoughts and images: trees, sky, lightning, roaring monsters, and vast stretches of rolling green water, but none of them stayed still long enough for Jaypaw to see them clearly. It was like trying to gaze at broken water flashing with sunlight.

He nudged Hollypaw. “Well?”

“H-he’s tall,” she mewed distractedly. “Taller than Firestar.

His head narrows toward his chin, and his ears are large and wide spaced. His fur is longer than ours—dark brown and white with splashes of bright tortoiseshell—and his tail…”

Her mew trailed away. “I’ve seen him before! It’s the lion.”

Jaypaw stiffened in alarm. “What?”

Her voice dropped even more. “On the moor, with the sun rising behind him. He looked like a lion.”

Jaypaw wanted to know everything, but Firestar was padding toward the stranger. The air in the hollow crackled with tension.

“Thornclaw.” Firestar’s voice was sharp as he addressed the senior warrior. “Why have you brought this cat here, into our camp?”

“I-I…” Thornclaw seemed lost for words, and Jaypaw sensed confusion clouding the warrior’s thoughts. He was no longer sure why he had led a perfect stranger to the heart of ThunderClan territory. It had just seemed like the right thing to do.