Эрин Хантер - Eclipse

“They might visit the lake,” Hollypaw suggested.

A howl echoed eerily around the crags far behind them.

“They have to get home safely first,” Lionpaw murmured.

“They will,” Brambleclaw assured him. “They know their territory as well as any other Tribe cat.”

Padding beside his littermates, Jaypaw caught the musty scent of forest ahead. Before long the ground beneath his paws turned from grass to crushed leaves. The wind ceased tugging at his fur as trees shielded him on every side. Hollypaw hurried ahead as though she already scented the lake beyond, but for a moment Jaypaw wished he were back on the open slopes of the foothills. At least there, scents and sounds were not muff led by the enclosing trees, and there was no undergrowth to trip him up. He felt blinder here in this unfamiliar forest than he ever had.

“Watch out!” Lionpaw’s warning came too late, and Jaypaw found his paws tangled in a bramble.

“Mouse dung!” He fought to free himself, but the bramble seemed to twist around his legs as if it meant to ensnare him.

“Stand still!” Hollypaw was racing back to help. Jaypaw froze, swallowing his frustration, and allowed Lionpaw to drag the tendrils from around his paws while Hollypaw gently guided him away from the prickly bush.

“Dumb brambles!” Jaypaw lifted his chin and padded forward, more unsure than ever of the terrain but trying desperately not to show it.

Wordlessly, Hollypaw and Lionpaw fell into step on either side of him. With the lightest touch of her whiskers Hollypaw guided him around a clump of nettles and, when a fallen tree blocked their path, Lionpaw warned him with a flick of his tail to stop and wait while he led the way up and over the trunk.

As Jaypaw scrabbled over the crumbling bark he couldn’t help wondering: Is the prophecy real y meant for a cat who can’t see?

Lionpaw twitched in his sleep. He was dreaming.

Standing on a craggy peak, he felt the mountain breeze tug at his fur. Above, a starless sky stretched black as a raven’s wing to the distant horizon. In front of him ridge upon ridge lay like ripples on a wind-ruffled lake. Though no moon shone, the mountaintops glowed like moonstone. All this is mine! Exhilarated, Lionpaw bounded forward, his powerful hind paws sending stones cracking into the shadowy valleys below. He cleared the gorge in one easy jump, landing on the ridge beyond. His claws scraped the rock, holding his paws firm. He leaped again, light as air, the breath hardly stirring in his chest. His tail seemed to brush the pelt-soft sky and, with the blood rushing in his ears, he lifted his chin and yowled, his voice echoing like thunder around the empty mountains. I have the power of the stars in my paws!

“Lionpaw!” Ashfur’s call jolted Lionpaw awake. “Hunting patrol!”

Lionpaw blinked open his eyes. Sunshine pierced the branches of the den, yellow sunbeams spearing straight downward. The other nests were empty. It’s sunhigh already! Lionpaw clambered groggily to his paws. And then he remembered: They hadn’t reached camp until well past moonhigh. Surely Ashfur wouldn’t be angry with him for sleeping late today?

Arching his back in a trembling stretch, he yawned. His paws still ached from the long trek from the mountains, and he licked gingerly at a forepaw to check whether the grazing had begun to heal. No taste of blood. The scabs were hard.

The soft forest floor would be no problem.

“Lionpaw!” Ashfur called again, more sharply. Lionpaw stumbled out of the den. Surely he deserved some rest! Heavy-pawed, he padded into the clearing, narrowing his eyes against the greenleaf sun. It flooded the camp and warmed his pelt. A

light breeze stirred the trees encircling the top of the hollow.

In the mountains, the only shelter from the wind had been in the damp and chilly cave behind the waterfall. How in the name of StarClan did the Tribe survive leaf-bare? Greenleaf had been cold enough!

“Awake at last!” Ashfur greeted him. “The prey’s probably grown old and died while we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then it’ll be easier to catch,” Lionpaw grumbled.

“I know you’re tired,” Ashfur conceded. “But Icepaw is itching to get out into the forest, and I promised Whitewing we’d go with them.”

Lionpaw noticed Icepaw for the first time. The young apprentice was bouncing around the clearing like a newleaf hare, leaping and twisting as she darted at invisible prey. Her prey might have been invisible, but Icepaw, with her sleek white pelt and bright blue eyes, certainly wasn’t. Perhaps that was why Firestar had made Whitewing her mentor. The white she-cat knew what it was like to stand out like snow in greenleaf.

She’d be able to teach Icepaw a few special stalking techniques.

And she clearly needed to learn. As he watched Icepaw darting clumsily about, Lionpaw stifled a purr, remembering how excited he had been when he had started his training.

Whitewing padded across the clearing, one eye on her apprentice. “Can we go now?”

Lionpaw noticed her tail tip twitching. Icepaw was Whitewing’s first apprentice. Was she worried how to manage such a bundle of energy? Or did she think their matching snow-colored pelts would scare away all the prey as soon as they set foot under the trees?

“Where do you want to start?” Ashfur asked.

Whitewing eyed Icepaw thoughtfully as the little white cat hurled herself awkwardly at a pile of leaves, sending them scattering in all directions. “Do you think Icepaw would do better by the Ancient Oak or the Old Thunderpath?”

Lionpaw’s belly rumbled. He gazed at the fresh-kill pile; a plump mouse was lying on top. But the Clan had to be fed before he could eat. It was the first rule apprentices had to learn, and the hardest. “There’s usually more prey around the Oak,” he suggested.

Ignoring Lionpaw, Ashfur dipped his head to Whitewing.

“It’s your decision.”

Lionpaw felt a prickle of annoyance. Why bother waking him up at all? They clearly weren’t interested in his opinion. And neither of them had asked about his journey to the mountains. He stared angrily around the camp. No cat seemed the slightest bit interested in his return. Mousefur was sunning herself outside the elders’ nest. Ferncloud and Sorreltail were sharing a pigeon beneath Highledge, their hunting clearly finished for the day. Leafpool was disappearing into the nursery, holding leaves between her jaws. Weren’t any of them curious about the mountains or his adventure?

“Hey, Lionpaw!” Icepaw called to him. “Am I doing this right?” She was creeping forward in a hunting crouch, her tail lashing.

“Yeah,” Lionpaw mewed absently. Doesn’t anyone care about me?

“You need to keep your tail still, Icepaw,” Ashfur advised.

Lionpaw looked at his mentor in surprise. I thought you weren’t interested in apprentices.

Ashfur met his gaze, eyes narrowed, then turned pointedly back to Icepaw. “If you stir up the leaves, the prey will know you’re coming.” Clearly he thought that Lionpaw should have pointed out Icepaw’s mistake.

Lionpaw’s fur bristled. Why did Ashfur expect him to mentor another cat’s apprentice? That was Whitewing’s duty.

Then, with a flash of remorse, he remembered how grateful he’d been when Stormfur or Graystripe had gently pointed out his mistakes.

He padded over to the younger cat. “I’ll show you what he means.” He crouched beside her. “Keep your back down like this. The flatter you are, the less visible you’ll be.”