Эрин Хантер: Bramblestar’s Storm

“The life of the warrior Clans is always storm-tossed,” Cloudstar meowed. “It’s our duty—the duty of all StarClan—to watch over them, whatever happens.” His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, Firestar. I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But I promise, this message will help Bramblestar in the end. You have to trust me on that.”

Firestar sighed. “I do trust you. But is it too much to ask that ThunderClan could have a few seasons of peace, after they’ve suffered so much?”

Bramblestar stood near the entrance to the hollow and breathed deeply. The sky was milky-pale with dawn, and mist still drifted between the trees, but the air was full of the scents of fresh, growing things, announcing new life. Each twig was tipped with green, and tight fronds of ferns were starting to uncoil in the midst of the dead bracken.

It’s been a long, harsh leaf-bare , Bramblestar thought. The heavy snow made it harder, and we have so few warriors to hunt prey. Fewer still since the greencough … Then he gave his pelt a shake. His Clan had made it through the bitter, grief-wracked leaf-bare, and the warmer weather was returning. “We’ve survived six moons since the Great Battle,” he meowed aloud. “And now we’ll start to build up our strength again. Nothing will destroy ThunderClan.”

“That’s right.”

Bramblestar jumped at the sound of Berrynose’s voice. He hadn’t noticed the cream-colored warrior emerging from the barrier of thorns behind him.

“Berrynose, you nearly frightened me out of my fur!” he exclaimed.

“Nothing frightens you, Bramblestar,” Berrynose responded. “I’m leading a border patrol. Do you want to come with us?”

As he spoke, Millie and Rosepetal pushed their way through the prickly wall, closely followed by one of the new apprentices, Amberpaw. Her mentor, Spiderleg, brought up the rear.

Amberpaw bounced up to Berrynose. “Where are we going today?” she chirped. “WindClan or ShadowClan? What will we do if we catch them trespassing? Will we need to fight? I learned a great move!”

Berrynose looked a little overwhelmed, and it was Spiderleg who replied. “Amberpaw, if you stop twittering like a blackbird and start listening, you might learn something.”

His words were stern but not harsh, and Bramblestar was pleased to see that Amberpaw wasn’t at all intimidated by her mentor. “Okay, Spiderleg,” she mewed. “But—”

“We’re going along the WindClan border,” Berrynose interrupted. “And we’re not expecting trouble.” He strode downhill toward the lake.

Bramblestar waited until the rest of the patrol had passed, then fell in behind them. He noticed how thin the cats were, their ribs visible beneath sparse pelts. But their alertness showed in every twitch of their ears, and muscles bunched in their scrawny haunches as they moved. ThunderClan was not beaten yet.

Amberpaw skittered between the trees in a broad zigzag, and Spiderleg stretched out a black paw to halt her.

“If you go on like that,” he warned, “you’ll be exhausted before the patrol is half over. And if there are any cats trespassing on our territory, they’ll hear you coming way before we spot them.”

“Sorry, Spiderleg,” Amberpaw mewed, flattening her ears.

“I want to see how quietly you can walk,” Spiderleg told her. “Pretend you’re stalking a mouse.”

Bramblestar watched as the little ginger she-cat stalked forward, setting each paw down so lightly that she hardly disturbed the crumbled leaves.

“Not bad,” Spiderleg commented. “Keep it up.”

From Spiderleg, that was a considerable compliment, and Amberpaw puffed up her chest with pride.

It was a good decision to put those two together , Bramblestar thought. In fact, all three apprentices are doing well . They were the first apprentices he had made as Clan leader, and he had hesitated a long time over the choice of mentors. Now Dewpaw was paired with Whitewing, her sister from an earlier litter by Cloudtail and Brightheart, while Snowpaw was mentored by Ivypool.

They suffered so much hardship, so much grief as they were growing up , Bramblestar reflected. I want their apprenticeship moons to be peaceful, so they can be reassured that life in the Clan is not always lived on the brink of death .

As the patrol reached the edge of the trees above the lake, Bramblestar spotted Leafpool under an elderly beech tree. She was nipping off stems of early-flowering coltsfoot, the yellow buds glowing like tiny suns. Noticing the patrol, she waved her tail in greeting.

“You look busy,” Bramblestar commented as he padded up to her.

“That’s because I am.” Leafpool gathered the coltsfoot stems into a neat bundle. “Jayfeather wants these gathered before the sun burns off the dew.”

“Hi, Leafpool!” Millie bounded over to join them. “I just wanted to tell you that Briarlight’s exercises are clearing her chest really well. I was so afraid she would never get over that bout of greencough.”

Bramblestar felt a pang of relief shiver through his pelt. Millie was understandably anxious about her daughter, Briarlight, who had lost the use of her hind legs when she was trapped under a falling tree. It was hard to believe that the injured she-cat had recovered from a bout of greencough that had killed Toadstep, Icecloud, and Hazeltail.

Leafpool twitched her ears. “It’s Jayfeather you ought to thank, Millie. He never stops figuring out different ways to help Briarlight. I’m collecting this coltsfoot for a new mixture of herbs to help her breathing, together with thyme and catmint.”

“We still have catmint?” Millie asked.

“Oh, yes, there’s new growth in the patch Jayfeather planted beside the old Twoleg den. I’m going to tend it as soon as I’ve taken these herbs back to camp.”

Leafpool picked up her bundle and bounded off through the trees. Bramblestar watched her go, more glad than he could express that she was ThunderClan’s medicine cat once more.

Berrynose led the patrol to the WindClan border. They paused for a moment on the bank of the stream where it spilled into the lake, then headed uphill, keeping close to the water’s edge. Before they had gone more than a couple of fox-lengths, the sun crested the moor, bathing the tough grass in golden light. Bramblestar stopped to stretch his front legs, thankful for the warmth after so many cold moons.

As the cats trekked upward, the breeze blowing from beyond the stream carried WindClan scent markers strongly toward them.

“Those smell fresh,” Berrynose muttered, wrinkling his nose. “Millie, Rosepetal, you’d better renew our markers as we go along. We don’t want WindClan to think we’re getting careless about boundaries.”

“I want to set a scent marker!” Amberpaw piped up. “Can I, please?”

“Can she?” Spiderleg asked Berrynose. “She’ll have to learn how sooner or later.”

“I know how!” Amberpaw scampered up to the edge of the stream. “I watched—” She broke off with a squeal as the grass beneath her paws gave way and she slid out of sight. A heartbeat later, they heard a loud splash.

“Amberpaw!” Spiderleg yowled.

Every cat rushed to the edge of the stream where the apprentice had disappeared. Bramblestar couldn’t remember whether the water was deep enough here to drown her.

Spiderleg plunged down the side of the bank into the swift-flowing water. Leaning over the edge, Bramblestar saw the black warrior boosting Amberpaw onto a ledge just above the surface of the stream. She was coughing up water while the current dragged at her tail.