Эрин Хантер - Hawkwing’s Journey

“True,” Sandynose responded. “That would be mouse-brained.”

Hawkwing remained quiet, barely listening to his Clanmates’ chatter. As they drew closer to the Twoleg greenplace, he began to pick up traces of the terrible smell of burning. He flinched, needing to pause for a moment with his eyes tight shut, as all the memories of that dreadful day came rushing back. He could hear the anguished cries of the trapped cats, and almost see Duskpaw’s scared face through the smoke.

Forcing himself into motion again, Hawkwing caught up with his Clanmates. When the Twoleg greenplace came into sight, he could see that most of the debris from the fire had been cleared away, probably by Twolegs. The Twoleg rock was gone, and so was the fallen tree branch. All that remained were a stretch of earth where the grass had burned away, part of the burned tree, and scorch marks on the trash can.

The three cats padded over the site of the fire, carefully examining everything. Sandynose and Plumwillow went on discussing the prophecy, but Hawkwing wasn’t interested. He was focused on finding something—anything—that might be “the spark that remains.” But the search didn’t take long, because there was hardly anything left to search.

“There’s nothing here but charred earth and a bad smell,” Sandynose declared with a sigh. “Echosong is probably right.”

“Yes,” Plumwillow agreed. “The prophecy must be about Firestar’s kin—the other Clan cats.”

Hawkwing remained quiet. He was still unsure about the prophecy, and the image of Duskpaw, trapped and terrified, kept flashing into his head.

“Let’s go back,” Sandynose meowed.

“Okay. And maybe we can pick up some prey on the way,” Plumwillow suggested. “Coming, Hawkwing?”

Hawkwing shook his head. “No, you can go on without me. I’ll follow you in a few moments.”

As he watched his Clanmates retreating in the direction of the gorge, Hawkwing reflected how strange it felt to be allowed to say that. I don’t have to go back with them, because I’m not an apprentice anymore. It’s okay for me to be out here alone.

Once his companions had vanished, Hawkwing turned to face the stretch of scarred earth.

Even though his brother was buried under the tree at the top of the gorge, Hawkwing felt closer to him here, the last place

Duskpaw was alive. And it’s a place he loved—because of all those scraps of Twoleg food.

“Duskpaw,” he mewed aloud, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m so sorry I didn’t save you. I’m so sorry that you never got to be a warrior.”

As Hawkwing stood there, silently grieving, the scent of another cat drifted into his nose. Startled, he turned to see a strange cat only a tail-length away. His heart pounded, and he twitched his ears, uncomfortable to realize he’d been overheard. How did he manage to creep up on me like that?

The cat scent must have been covered up by the smell from the smoke and fire, he thought, turning his attention to the intruder.

He was a strong, muscular tom, with white fur broken up with black spots, and a long black tail. His expression was friendly as he dipped his head to Hawkwing. But this was a cat Hawkwing had never smelled or seen before.

“Hi,” he meowed. “M y name is Darktail. I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I’m wondering if you’re a Clan cat.”

A Clan cat? For a moment Hawkwing was silent, not sure how to reply, or what this strange cat wanted. Why do you want to know?

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” Darktail continued, glancing down as though embarrassed, “but I heard you talking to your Clanmates. And I couldn’t help overhearing that you were talking to some cat who wasn’t there. The fire was a terrible tragedy, wasn’t it? Did you lose some cat you loved?”

Hawkwing had begun to bristle when Darktail confirmed that he had overheard what he’d said to Duskpaw. That was private!

But the white tom’s voice was so sympathetic that Hawkwing forced his shoulder fur to lie flat again.

“Yes, I lost my brother,” he replied.

“I’m so sorry,” Darktail meowed. “You know, I was caught in that fire too.”

Hawkwing’s pads began to prickle with suspicion. I didn’t see you here! “You don’t look injured,” he pointed out.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the fire,” Darktail explained. “I was resting, in those bushes over there.” He gestured with his tail.

Hawkwing looked to the bushes, which he knew he had walked past on his way to the Twoleg rock. How had he not seen a sleeping rogue? Then he guessed that he’d been so worried about his Clanmates, he just wasn’t paying attention to anything else.

“I breathed in a lot of smoke,” Darktail continued. “It made me weak and confused, and I even passed out for a while,” he added, letting out a feeble cough. “And I haven’t been able to travel on because I can’t breathe very well, and I get tired quickly when I move around. I was wondering…” He paused, ducking his head in embarrassment.

“What?” Hawkwing asked. What does this cat want?

“Well, I know that Clan cats keep herbs for medicine,” Darktail replied. “Could you possibly give me something to help with my breathing? I’ve had trouble hunting, because I’m so weak. If you could, I’d repay you for your kindness.”

It was strange, but Hawkwing felt an odd connection to this newcomer. Darktail had been injured in the same fire that killed Duskpaw. He, too, had suffered because of Twoleg foolishness. A

sudden compulsion to help pricked every hair on his pelt.

Somehow, Hawkwing thought, it would be like fighting the fire all over again, and this time, he could win.

I can’t take a strange cat into camp, but maybe I can get Echosong to bring him some herbs to help him. Surely she’ll do that, when Darktail was injured in the same fire that killed Duskpaw?

“I’ll go and get a medicine cat who might be able to help you,” he told Darktail.

“I’ll come with you,” the white tom responded instantly.

“No, you should stay here,” Hawkwing objected. “It’s too far for an injured cat.” He also didn’t want to bring a strange cat onto

Clan territory without permission, but Darktail didn’t need to know that.

“Please… I must come with you,” Darktail insisted, moving toward Hawkwing with wide, pleading eyes. Hawkwing stepped back, startled.

Darktail dipped his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be demanding. It’s just, I can’t bear to stay alone among the charred remains anymore. It’s too terrible to be here with the smell and the memory—” He choked and went on, “The memory of the horrible things that happened. I only stayed because I heard there were Clan cats around here, and I hoped to meet one of you. I’m just so relieved to find you! But don’t worry, I won’t come into your camp unless I’m invited.”

Hawkwing took in the strange cat’s serious, hopeful expression. “I understand,” he murmured finally. Surely no cat can take issue with my showing him to our border—not after what he’s been through .

Side by side, the two cats headed toward the gorge. Hawkwing set a slow pace because of Darktail’s breathing problems, but even so the white tom had to stop two or three times to catch his breath.

I’m glad I found him, Hawkwing thought as they padded into the undergrowth at the top of the gorge. We went back to the Twoleg greenplace, looking for clues about the prophecy, and I found a cat looking for help. Excitement tingled through Hawkwing from ears to tail-tip. Maybe Darktail is a clue… Maybe he is “the spark that remains,” and I was meant to find him!