Эрин Хантер - Eclipse

“Dawnkit, Flamekit, stay out of the way!” Tawnypelt scolded.

A third kit stomped up and down in front of her. “We want to go to the battle!” he squeaked.

“Tigerkit! Have you been eavesdropping again?” Tawnypelt glared at her dark tabby kit, but it was easy to see the fondness in her gaze.

Hollypaw felt a purr rumble in her throat at the sight of their short, fluffy tails.

“Sorry about my kits,” Tawnypelt apologized. “They can’t wait to become warriors.”

“I remember feeling just the same way,” Hollypaw mewed.

Tawnypelt hustled the kits toward a yew bush. A white queen waited at the entrance.

“Look after them, Snowbird,” Tawnypelt meowed as the queen swished them into the den with her tail. “Make sure they don’t leave camp.”

Snowbird nodded. “I know all their tricks,” she promised.

“Bye, Tawnypelt!” Dawnkit’s mew was muff led by Snowbird’s fur.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Tawnypelt promised. She glanced at Hollypaw and added under her breath, “StarClan willing.”

She darted out of the camp like a shadow. Hollypaw paused, glancing up at the sky. The clouds were thinning, scudding across the moon. “StarClan help us!” she whispered.

Tawnypelt was waiting outside the camp. “Follow me.”

She led Hollypaw through the woods and into a sloping field. A stream cut through it. This was the land ThunderClan had given to ShadowClan moons ago. Twolegs lived here in strange, flapping nests, but only in greenleaf.

“Keep low,” Tawnypelt warned. She ducked and streaked across the grass, leaping the stream where it narrowed near the top of the field. A few Twoleg nests rustled in the breeze, but there was no sign of life apart from a gentle growling from inside.

They were in the ThunderClan forest within heartbeats.

Tawnypelt clearly knew the territory well. She headed straight for the Twoleg path and followed it, her paws almost silent on the stone.

Hollypaw pricked her ears, suddenly terrified. Had she been gone too long? Had WindClan chased off her Clanmates already?

A screech told her that the battle still raged. Tawnypelt began to run, and Hollypaw hared after her. The Twoleg nest loomed ahead of them, yowls splitting the air. Cloudtail’s white pelt was stained and ragged as he struggled with the shadowy shapes of two WindClan warriors. Brackenfur screeched in fury as he threw a tabby tom from his back.

Brambleclaw and Mousewhisker fought side by side, driving a line of WindClan cats back against the stone side of the Twoleg nest. With a battle cry, Tawnypelt flung herself into the fray.

Hollypaw stared. Would this battle never end? Unsheathing her claws, she raced to defend her Clanmates.

“I can’t stand hearing it and doing nothing.” Ferncloud crouched in the clearing beside Jaypaw. Distant wails and screeches echoed from the forest.

“We need you here in case the camp is attacked again,” Jaypaw pointed out.

“Waiting is worse than fighting,” Ferncloud growled.

“Concentrate on noises inside the camp.”

“What noises?” Ferncloud stiffened beside him as she strained to listen. Couldn’t she hear the murmuring and shuffling from inside Firestar’s den?

Longtail and Mousefur were sheltering there with Millie, Daisy, and the kits. From the sound of it, they were having trouble finding room.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Longtail complained.

“Just stay where you are,” Mousefur croaked. “If you move, you might tread on another kit.”

Another bout of mewling started, followed by Millie’s soothing mew. “It’s all right, little ones. Isn’t it fun to be in the leader’s den?”

“I want to be outside fighting!” Toadkit squeaked. “Not stuck in this hole.”

“You’ll turn your mother’s fur white with talk like that,” Mousefur scolded. “You’re too young to fight. Stop complaining and make yourself useful, like Rosekit.”

Rosekit was mewling softly to the younger kits, helping to quiet them.

“Do you think they’ll attack the camp again?” Daisy fretted.

“Whatever happens, no cat’s going to harm our kits,” Millie growled. But Jaypaw could hear fear in her mew. There was nothing she could do to help her Clanmates fighting out in the forest.

Graystripe, Whitewing, and Icepaw paced outside the barrier, guarding the entrance. They were too busy listening for danger to speak. Icepaw’s fur scuffed against the forest floor from time to time, and her paws scrabbled on the fallen leaves.

She must be practicing battle moves.

Inside the hollow, Brightheart restlessly circled the camp.

Occasionally she stopped, and Jaypaw guessed she was scanning the ledges along the steep rock walls in case any WindClan warriors were trying to sneak down in a stealth attack. Jaypaw trusted her senses; her one eye made her hearing and sense of smell almost as good as his own. No cat could steal past her. And even if they did, Cinderpaw was prowling the clearing, every hair on her pelt bristling.

“Are you sure your leg’s okay?” Jaypaw was worried she’d been pacing on it too long.

“It’s much stronger with all the swimming,” Cinderpaw promised.

“Just rest awhile,” Jaypaw advised.

“I’ll rest on Highledge.”

Jaypaw wondered whether to stop her from struggling up the tumble of rocks, but there was such determination in her voice that it seemed pointless to argue. Leafpool’s memory of the badger flashed in his mind, part of his own memories now—black-and-white fur crashing through bramble walls, snapping jaws, the stench of blood, kits mewling in terror.

Cinderpelt had died to protect them. Was Cinderpaw’s mind echoing with that memory now? If it was, then nothing he could say would stop her from guarding the kits.

He listened to her scrabbling up to Highledge, praying her leg wouldn’t slip on the loose rocks, relieved when she mounted the ledge and settled at the mouth of Firestar’s cave.

Leafpool was in her den, sifting through leaves and sorting herbs. Jaypaw could smell their pungent aromas mingle as she mixed poultices and ointments, ready for the wounded.

“We’ve got everything covered,” Jaypaw comforted Ferncloud. “ThunderClan won’t be taken as easily as Onestar thinks.”

Ferncloud shifted on her paws. “Now tell me what you really think.”

“What do you mean?” It wasn’t like Ferncloud to be skeptical.

“It’s your duty to encourage your Clanmates, but what has StarClan told you about this battle?”

Jaypaw shook his head. How could he tell her that they’d had no warning? Yet he wouldn’t lie to defend his ancestors.

Why had they let ThunderClan down? “StarClan didn’t tell us anything,” he murmured.

“Nothing at all?”

“No.”

Ferncloud huddled into a tighter crouch, her whiskers trembling.

Were StarClan as surprised as ThunderClan by this attack?

Or were they simply on WindClan’s side?

Brambles swished.

“How did Cinderpaw get up there?” Leafpool’s mew was taut with worry.

“She climbed up,” Jaypaw replied.

Leafpool bristled.

“I told her to rest her leg,” Jaypaw explained. “It was the only place she would settle.” Hadn’t he proved already that he knew what was best for Cinderpaw? Why couldn’t Leafpool believe that Cinderpaw’s leg was healing?

Leafpool called up to Cinderpaw, “Don’t try to climb down without help!”

“I don’t need help!” Cinderpaw mewed. “My leg’s fine!”