Эрин Хантер: Tallstar’s Revenge

He must be trying to guess who his mentor will be. Tallkit held his breath, as excited as if it were his own apprentice ceremony.

“It looks like poor old Stagkit gets Woollytail,” Shrewkit muttered.

“Stagpaw,” Heatherstar began, “your mentor will be Cloudrunner.”

Shrewkit gasped. “Cloudrunner?”

“He’s not a tunneler,” Barkkit breathed.

Tallkit felt a flash of relief for his former denmate. Stagpaw won’t have to train underground! Then guilt pricked him. He should be feeling sorry that Stagpaw would never be the noblest of warriors.

Heatherstar went on. “Cloudrunner, share your hunting skill and agility with your apprentice so he may feed his Clans for many moons to come.”

Yowls of approval rose from the moor runners.

“Stagpaw!”

“Ryepaw!”

“Doepaw!”

On the rim of the hollow, Mistmouse and Hareflight twined their tails together, their eyes shining with pride.

“Cloudrunner?” Woollytail’s mew rose above the cheers. Confusion clouded his yellow gaze.

Hickorynose narrowed his eyes. “Why wasn’t an apprentice given to a tunneler?” he demanded.

“What’s going on?” A mew sounded from the camp entrance. A gray she-cat stared at her Clanmates. Her pelt was dusted with soil.

Mistmouse turned. “Hi, Plumclaw.” She shifted her paws uneasily as she faced her tunneling denmate. “I’m afraid you missed the naming ceremony.”

“Did Woollytail get his apprentice?” The she-cat’s gaze flashed with hope.

Woollytail shook his head. “They’re training as moor runners.”

“All of them?” Plumclaw’s eyes widened.

Heatherstar stepped forward. “Aspenfall, Cloudrunner, and Larksplash are going to mentor Mistmouse’s kits.”

Plumclaw stared at Mistmouse. “Don’t you want any of them to follow in your paw steps?”

Mistmouse dropped her gaze. Hareflight pressed close to his mate. “We’ve decided that we want them all to be moor runners.”

“Tunneling is dangerous work,” Mistmouse pointed out. “Our kits are good runners, like their father. They’ll be better hunting the moors than the tunnels.”

Hickorynose took a step forward, his fur bristling. “But we need more tunneler apprentices.”

Behind him, Sandgorse swished his tail. “At least we’ll have Tallkit in a few moons.”

Tallkit’s belly tightened.

“Lucky little Wormkit,” Shrewkit teased.

Tallkit glared at him. “Shut up!”

Heatherstar padded toward the tunnelers. “I know you’re disappointed, but Mistmouse and Hareflight want their kits to train as moor runners.”

Hickorynose met her gaze. “The Clan needs tunnelers as well, Heatherstar.”

“I understand your disappointment,” Heatherstar answered softly. “But Leafshine’s death is still fresh in our memories.”

Tallkit had heard Palebird and Brackenwing talking about the tunneler killed by the same cave-in that had crippled Lilywhisker.

“I had to respect Mistmouse and Hareflight’s wishes,” the WindClan leader continued.

Hickorynose dipped his head. “I guess.”

Heatherstar went on. “When newleaf comes and the earth is drier, the tunnels will be safer and better for training.”

Woollytail pushed past Hickorynose. “Why didn’t you warn us we weren’t getting an apprentice?”

Reedfeather took a pace forward. “Would you have accepted it any more easily if we had?”

Plumclaw called from the top of the hollow. “We would have known that you still respected us!”

Heatherstar lifted her chin. “Of course WindClan respects its tunnelers,” she insisted. “When leaf-bare brings endless moons of snow, our tunnelers always bring us prey. We value your skills, and we want to help you keep them alive through future moons.”

A growl rumbled in Woollytail’s throat. “How, when you give us no apprentices to train?”

“You will have more apprentices eventually.” Heatherstar flicked her tail. “For now, the ceremony is over.” She turned to Cloudrunner. “Show your apprentices their territory.” She dipped her head to Aspenfall and Larksplash. “Train them well.”

Tallkit felt a flicker of unease as Cloudrunner hopped out of the hollow and led Stagpaw to the camp entrance. Larksplash, Aspenfall, Ryepaw, and Doepaw bounded after them. How would the tunnelers get more apprentices ? Tallkit wondered. Shrewkit and Barkkit would be moor runners. Was Tallkit going to have to keep the tunnelers’ skills alive all by himself?

Barkkit pressed close to him. “Sandgorse will make sure that Heatherstar chooses a tunneler mentor when it’s your naming ceremony.”

“Yeah.” Tallkit tried to sound enthusiastic. Did he really want to spend the rest of his moons digging holes and heaving rocks?

“Redclaw, Appledawn, Hareflight!” Reedfeather called to the moor runners. “The prey heap is low. We must hunt.”

Redclaw’s nose twitched. “Rabbit will be easy to scent in this weather.”

Appledawn sprang out of the hollow and headed for the entrance, her pale cream pelt rosy in the low sunshine.

Hareflight raced after her. “Let’s hunt the high outcrops.”

Tallkit watched the muscles ripple beneath Hareflight’s pelt as the pale brown tom reached the camp entrance in three easy bounds. Longing pricked his belly. I want to race on the moors. I want to be pulled by the wind, and chase rabbits beneath the big, blue sky. Would he ever feel the same way about running through tunnels in the dark?

Thick snow smothered the high-moor, but in the camp’s sheltered dip, the heather and grass was tinged green with the promise of newleaf. Tallkit could feel the prick of fresh stems beneath his paws as he skimmed across the tussocks. Barkkit fled ahead of him, tail whipping as he plunged down into the Meeting Hollow.

Tallkit reached the edge and leaped, sailing fast and high before landing skillfully and racing on without missing a paw step. Barkkit charged ahead, kicking sand in his wake. Excitement pulsed through Tallkit’s paws as he gained ground on his denmate. He’s two moons older and I’m still faster! Tallkit pushed harder as Barkkit reached the far slope of the hollow and scrambled out.

Tallkit jumped easily up the slope, clearing it as Barkkit dived for cover beneath the thick gorse beyond. He slowed to a halt, stopping a whisker from the barrage of thorns. Pelt twitching, he paced along the edge of gorse, swishing his tail. “I know you’re in there, mouse! I’m going to pull your tail!”

“Never!” Barkkit purred.

“Come out and face me, rabbit-heart!”

“Come and get me, buzzard-face!” The gorse rattled as Barkkit scrabbled deeper.

Tallkit ducked and peered under the branches. “I’m coming!”

A paw pressed on his tail. “Going tunneling, Wormkit?” Shrewkit snorted.

Tallkit spun around, bristling. “Will you drop the dumb name?” He squared his shoulders.

“But it suits you.” Shrewkit’s eyes gleamed. “You’re going to spend your life burrowing underground.”

“Ignore him, Tallkit!” Barkkit called from under the gorse. “Let’s finish our game.”

Tallkit held Shrewkit’s gaze. “Why don’t you join us?” Playing was better than arguing.

“I’m too old for kits’ games.”

Tallkit prickled with frustration. “Then why don’t you go hunting with Redclaw?” He leaned closer. “Oh, I forgot! You’re too young to leave camp.”

The gorse trembled as Barkkit pushed his way out. “Stop acting like a ’paw, Shrewkit. You’ve got three moons left before you get your apprentice name.”