Эрин Хантер - Tallstar’s Revenge

“Wait.” Sandgorse swept his tail over Tallkit’s spine. “You’re not digging a hole to make dirt.”

Tallkit sat back and shook his head to dislodge some flakes of dirt. There were different ways to dig?

Sandgorse thrust a paw into the soft soil and scooped out a lump of earth. Pushing it firmly to one side, he dug another. Within moments, he was hollowing out dirt, paw over paw, while a pile grew beside him, neat and compact. Tallkit felt a quiver of pride. His father looked strong and determined, as if there was no hole he couldn’t dig, no earth he couldn’t shape with his paws.

“Let me try.” Tallkit reached down past his father and gouged out a pawful of the crumbling earth.

Sandgorse sat back. Tallkit felt his father’s gaze on his pelt, warmer than sunshine. He dug harder, dragging up pawfuls and throwing them into a loose pile beside his fast-growing hole. “I’m tunneling!” he squeaked.

“Watch out!”

As Sandgorse mewed a warning, Tallkit’s flank bumped his dig-pile. Cold, crumbly soil cascaded around his ears. It sprinkled over his muzzle, making him sneeze. He sat up, shaking out his fur, and stared crossly at the earth that was still showering into his hole.

Sandgorse pressed his paw against the pile to stop the flow. “Your dig-pile is as important as your hole. You must keep it compact. Press your dug-earth down firmly or you’ll have to dig every pawful twice.”

Tallkit frowned. This was harder than he thought. Concentrating, he dove back into his hole and hauled up a fresh pawful of soil. He carefully patted it into the side of his dig-pile. This time it stayed where he put it, and he reached into the hole with both paws and began scooping, paw over paw, taking time to press each lump into his pile just as Sandgorse had done.

“Very good, Tallkit.” There was pride in Sandgorse’s mew.

Tallkit swallowed back a purr and kept digging. The hole was so deep now that his hind legs ached each time he reached down.

“Slow down,” Sandgorse warned.

“I’m okay—” As Tallkit answered, his hind paws shot out from beneath him. Muzzle first, he crashed into the hole. Pain seared through his paws as they twisted the wrong way, his claws bending back as they caught on the soil. A wave of earth smothered him, choking him and pushing him farther into the hole. Help! I’m being buried alive!

Teeth sank into his tail, dragging him up. “Are you okay?” Sandgorse let go and stared into Tallkit’s face.

“No!” Tallkit’s muzzle throbbed and his claws burned. “I can’t do this! I hate digging holes, and I don’t want to be a tunneler!” A wail rose in his belly as soil stung his eyes. “Palebird!” Chest heaving, he turned and raced for the nursery.

Sandgorse bounded after him. “You were doing really well.”

“I was not!” Anger surged through Tallkit as his eyes watered from the grit. “I fell in! And hurt my claws!” He stumbled to a halt outside the nursery and held up a paw.

“You just snagged them. They’ll be okay.”

Tallkit blinked through tears. “You don’t know that!” Hazily he spotted Palebird’s black-and-white pelt at the nursery entrance.

“Tallkit!” She slid onto the grass. “What happened?”

Tallkit flung himself against her soft fur. “I fell in and soil got in my eyes.” He screwed them up as Palebird began to lap at them gently.

“Is that better?” She paused and waited while he opened them gingerly. The stinging had stopped. He shook his head, spraying earth from his ears.

“I hurt my paws, too.”

Palebird leaned down and sniffed them. “They’re fine,” she mewed. “Let’s go inside.”

“Tallkit!” Sandgorse stepped closer. “You can’t give up yet!”

“Leave him,” Palebird murmured. “He’s frightened.”

Tallkit glanced over his shoulder. Sandgorse’s green eyes were round with worry. “I’ll try again later,” he meowed reluctantly.

“We’ll see.” Palebird nosed him gently into the den.

“He’s got to learn—”

Tallkit didn’t hear the rest of his father’s mew. Palebird’s fur was swishing in his ears as she guided him to their nest. He curled into the soft sheepswool lining. “Where’s Brackenwing?” Barkkit’s mother was gone. “And Mistmouse?” The ginger queen’s nest was empty and there was no sign of Ryekit, Doekit, or Stagkit.

“Brackenwing’s at the prey heap.” Palebird settled into the nest beside him. “Mistmouse went hunting.”

“Hunting?” Queens didn’t hunt. They looked after their kits.

Palebird sighed. “She’s missed being out on the moor these past moons. And her kits don’t need her anymore.”

The entrance to the nursery rustled as Brackenwing pushed her way in. She carried with her the scent of fresh rabbit. “Who’s missed the moor?” Heather rustled as she settled into her nest.

“Mistmouse,” Palebird told her.

Brackenwing ran her tongue around her lips. “I haven’t felt the wind in my fur for too long,” she mewed wistfully.

Tallkit nestled against Palebird. “Do you miss being underground?” She’d been a tunneler before he’d been born.

“Of course.”

Tallkit wasn’t convinced. Who’d want to spend the day in the dark?

Brackenwing flicked her tail over her paws. “You won’t be tunneling for a while, Palebird.” The ginger queen’s mew sounded ominous.

Tallkit’s gaze flicked anxiously toward his mother. “Why not?”

“My kitting was hard. I lost Finchkit.” Palebird shifted beside him. “It’ll take me a bit longer to recover.”

Tallkit searched her gaze. He could never tell whether his mother was sad or just tired. “Why did Finchkit die? Did you kit her wrong?”

“Hush!”

Brackenwing’s sharp mew surprised him. Had he said something bad? Palebird liked talking about Finchkit. “Did StarClan want her?” he pressed.

Palebird sighed. “I guess they did.”

But not me. Why had StarClan left him with Palebird? Perhaps they wanted him to cheer her up. “What color was Finchkit’s pelt?” Tallkit asked.

Palebird’s gaze clouded. “Ginger, like your father’s.”

“I don’t know why you gave Finchkit a name,” Brackenwing muttered.

“She needed a name,” Palebird answered.

“She only lived for a moment.” Brackenwing frowned. “StarClan would have named her.”

Tallkit felt his mother tremble. Talking about Finchkit didn’t seem to be cheering her up. He pawed at her cheek softly, trying to distract her. “I’ve got sand in my ears.”

“Have you, dear?” Palebird leaned down and began washing his ear fur.

Relieved to feel her soften beside him, Tallkit snuggled closer. He didn’t even remember Finchkit. Am I supposed to?

A shadow darkened the nursery entrance. “Have you calmed him down yet?” Sandgorse stuck his head through the gorse. “The sooner he starts digging again, the better.”

“I’ve just gotten him cleaned up,” Palebird objected.

“We’ll practice some other skills,” Sandgorse promised.

Tallkit ducked out from under his mother’s muzzle. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he mewed, blinking up at her. He didn’t want to leave Palebird if she was still sad, but Sandgorse sounded so eager for him to go.

“Whatever you want, dear.” Her gaze drifted away.

Tallkit felt a jab of disappointment. Didn’t she want him to stay? He stood up. She wants me to train so I can be as strong as Sandgorse. He clambered over the side of the nest. “See you later.”