Эрин Хантер: Tallstar’s Revenge

MARMALADE—large ginger tom

RED—orange she-cat

NUTMEG—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

The dark moor rose to meet the night-black sky. Starry pelts sparked like flint against the trembling heather. Grass streamed around the paws of WindClan’s former warriors as they sat, whiskers stiff, unbowed by the wind.

“Welcome to StarClan, Heatherstar.” A sleek tom with starshine glowing in his pelt faced the young WindClan leader. “I have watched you serve your Clanmates with bravery and loyalty as their deputy, and now I am honored to give you a life as their leader.”

Heatherstar dipped her head. “Thank you, Thrushpelt.”

“I died a medicine cat,” the tom reminded her. “But before that, I was a warrior. I never hesitated to fight for what I knew to be right, however hard that seemed. I give you your eighth life and, with it, the courage to trust your instincts. When your heart speaks, listen .” Leaning forward, he touched his nose to Heatherstar’s head.

As the new life pulsed through her, the gray cat groaned through clenched jaws.

Thrushpelt stepped back and glanced over his shoulder. “Daisytail?”

A light brown she-cat with ginger patches padded from among her Clanmates, her fur blazing with silver light. “Do you know me?” she gently asked Heatherstar.

Heatherstar lifted her head and drew in a shuddering breath. “Yes! I have heard your name many times. You refused to let your kits fight against ShadowClan, and your insistence was so strong, it became part of the Clan code.”

Daisytail nodded. “From then on, no kit was allowed to train for battle before they were six moons old. I would have taken on each of those ShadowClan warriors myself before I let my little ones suffer a single blow. Even though you do not have kits of your own, Heatherstar, I want you to share the strength of my conviction. For your ninth life I give you the force of a mother’s love. Use it to protect your Clan.” She pressed her muzzle to Heatherstar’s head. “It is stronger than the wind and outlasts life itself.”

Heatherstar rocked as a spasm gripped her. She lurched forward and stumbled onto her knees.

A mottled gray-brown tom stepped forward. “Heatherstar?” He leaned down to the new WindClan leader. “Are you okay?”

Daisytail flicked her tail. “She is strong, Hawkheart. I can feel it.”

Heatherstar straightened up. “I’m fine,” she told the tom. Trembling, she faced StarClan. “I promise that I will make WindClan a force to be respected among all the Clans of the forest. I will lead them well through my nine lives. And when I join you, I hope you will welcome me with pride at what I have achieved.”

Murmurs of approval rose among the ranks of starry pelts.

“Remember,” Daisytail called, “there is no power stronger than love!” As she spoke, StarClan blurred and began to spiral upward like a comet’s tail, into the midnight sky.

“We should return to the Moonstone,” Hawkheart murmured in Heatherstar’s ear.

Heatherstar shook her head. “I’m not ready to leave StarClan.”

Hawkheart watched the glimmering pelts fade. “But they’ve gone.”

“Their scent remains.” Heatherstar swished her tail stubbornly.

“Then I’ll meet you at Mothermouth when you wake.” Turning, Hawkheart padded down the slope, his pelt melting into the shadows until he was hardly visible against the heather. “The Clan will be waiting for us at home.”

“I won’t be long.” Heatherstar watched the medicine cat vanish. Still unsteady, she climbed the moor, moving slowly at first but growing stronger with each step as the new lives throbbed beneath her fur. She broke into a run, charging across the windswept grass, her whiskers flattened against her face. She stopped suddenly as the moor dropped away. Balancing at the edge of the sandy precipice, Heatherstar gazed across woods and meadows stretching into darkness.

Paw steps sounded behind her. “Why do you linger here?” The mew was soft.

Heatherstar turned, blinking. The fading pelt of an ancient warrior shimmered in front of her. “I wanted to breathe the scents of StarClan for a while longer,” she confessed. “Who… who are you?”

“I am Mothflight.” The she-cat’s green eyes shone. Behind her, the heather showed through her coat. Her pelt, once white, now glowed dimly, more starlight than fur.

“Mothflight?” Heatherstar’s eyes widened. “You were WindClan’s first medicine cat!”

Mothflight nodded.

“You discovered the Moonstone,” Heatherstar whispered. “And now you’ve come to see me ?”

“I watched your naming ceremony,” Mothflight told her. “And waited for the others to leave so that I could speak with you alone.”

“Do you have a prophecy for me?” Heatherstar curled her claws excitedly into the peaty soil.

“Not a prophecy, no. A warning, perhaps.” Mothflight’s voice was hardly more than a breath on the wind.

Heatherstar leaned closer, ears pricking.

“Listen carefully, Heatherstar,” Mothflight insisted. “Whatever happens, do not demand the loyalty of your Clan.”

Heatherstar lifted her head in surprise. “Of course I’ll demand it! I’ve earned it.”

“Warriors must decide for themselves where their loyalty lies.”

“It should lie with the Clan and with me,” Heatherstar hissed.

“But you cannot test it.”

Heatherstar bristled. “I’m their leader .”

Mothflight’s tail twitched. “You are young. Wisdom will come with experience. Until then, let my words guide you.”

Heatherstar snorted. “ I will make the decisions for my Clan.”

“Of course,” Mothflight soothed. “But you don’t yet realize that sometimes warriors must leave what they love before they understand what they truly value.”

“Leave what they love ?” Heatherstar echoed. “Do you mean their Clan?”

Mothflight stared back silently.

“Warriors who leave their Clan betray their Clan,” Heatherstar spat. “ My Clan will be loyal.”

“There will be a warrior whose loyalty to WindClan will waver,” Mothflight told her. “A cat who will have to seek far beyond the confines of your territory to discover where his heart truly lies.”

Heatherstar curled her lip. “Are you telling me that one of my Clan will turn rogue ?”

Mothflight blinked, her eyes like green stars. “He will stray, and you must let him, even if you fear he will never return. It is the only way he will discover where he truly belongs.”

“Be careful, Tallkit!”

Tallkit paused when he heard Palebird’s anxious call. “I’ll be okay!” he mewed. He glanced back at the nursery. The warm, milky scent of his mother drifted from the entrance.

Inside the thick gorse den, Brackenwing soothed her. “Barkkit and Shrewkit will watch out for him, I promise.”

Tallkit shivered. This was only his second sunrise outside the nursery, and his paws pricked with excitement. A light dusting of snow had turned the camp white, frosting the tussocky grass and thick heather walls. The freezing air stung his nose. He fluffed up his fur.