Эрин Хантер: Crookedstar’s Promise

Hailstar lashed his tail. “We’ll have to abandon camp!”

“No!” The ginger-and-white she-cat let go of her den and faced the RiverClan leader.

“We must , Brightsky!” Hailstar urged.

“We can’t leave everything our ancestors built for us!”

“We can rebuild it!” Hailstar snapped.

“It won’t be the same!” Brightsky plunged through the floods and clamped her paws around a floating nest.

Shellheart bounded down from the stump and splashed toward his Clanmate. “Together we can rebuild anything,” he insisted. “Except cats who have drowned trying to save bits of twig.”

Brightsky reluctantly let go of the nest and watched it spin away into the reeds, then raced for the high end of camp.

Black, bubbling water surged around the edge of the elders’ den, making the woven willow stems sway with the flood. Hailstar bounded up the slope and shook the den with his paws. “Get out!”

Echomist slid through the entrance. Three kits, like half- drowned mice, followed her. She stared at her mate. “Where should we go?”

“Head for high ground.” Hailstar flicked his tail uphill, where the riverbank climbed toward a swath of trees and bushes.

A tangle-furred elder slid out of the den. “I’ve never seen a storm like this.”

A tabby-and-white she-cat followed. “Where are we going?” she rasped.

The tom stroked her spine with his tail. “Further inland, Birdsong, where it’s safe.”

Birdsong’s eyes widened. “Away from the river?”

“Just for now,” Hailstar promised. “Come on, everyone.”

“Wait!” Shellheart stopped halfway up the slope and stared over his shoulder. “Where’s Rainflower?”

“Here!” A pale gray queen picked her way carefully through the swirling water toward him. Her belly was swollen with unborn kits.

“Are you all right?” Shellheart asked, sniffing her.

“I will be when I get my paws dry.” She was out of breath, and rain ran off her fur in steady rivulets.

A small white she-cat wove around the queen, her eyes flashing. “She’s been having pains.”

Shellheart narrowed his eyes. “Are the kits coming, Brambleberry?”

“I don’t know yet,” the medicine cat meowed.

Rainflower gazed at the RiverClan deputy. “Go and help Hailstar. I’ll be fine.”

Shellheart blinked at her, then turned away. “Rippleclaw?”

“Here!” A black-and-silver tabby tom was holding open a gap in the reeds beside the elders’ den while his Clanmates streamed through, heading for higher ground.

“Make sure every cat heads straight into the trees.”

Rippleclaw nodded to the deputy and nudged a graying elder who was refusing to go through the gap.

“I can’t go without Duskwater!” The elder dug his claws into the wet earth. “She went to make dirt before the camp flooded. She hasn’t come back yet.”

“We’ll find her,” Rippleclaw called over the wind. He glanced at his leader, who was rooted on the slope, eyes wide as he stared at his devastated camp. “Can you see her, Hailstar?”

Hailstar shook his head. “I’ll make sure the dens are empty!” He plunged back toward the nursery, stuck his head through the entrance, and sniffed for warm bodies.

It was deserted. He checked the place where the apprentices’ den had been next, and then what was left of the warriors’ dens. It smelled only of sodden reeds. He glanced around the camp, fighting to keep his balance as water tugged and pushed him. Then half running, half swimming, he crossed the clearing and followed his Clan.

“Are we all here?” he asked as he caught up with his Clanmates on drier ground.

Rippleclaw scowled. “There’s still no sign of Duskwater.”

Brightsky stepped forward. “I’ll go back and find her.”

Hailstar nodded. “The rest of you keep moving up to the trees,” he ordered.

As Brightsky dived down the bank, Rainflower let out a low moan.

Shellheart stiffened. “Rainflower?”

The queen was crouching, her face twisted in pain.

Brambleberry ducked down beside her, then lifted her head. “The kits are coming,” she announced.

“Right now?” Shellheart demanded.

“They won’t wait for the storm to end,” Brambleberry retorted. “We must get her somewhere safe.”

“Into the middle of the trees,” Shellheart suggested. “The water never reaches that far.”

“That’ll take too long.” Brambleberry glanced up at the wide, low branch of an ancient oak that hung overhead. “Do you think you can get her up there?”

Shellheart blinked. “I will if I have to.” He grabbed Rainflower’s scruff and, half guiding, half dragging, propelled her toward the thick trunk. “Up you go.”

Rainflower glanced upward and groaned. She opened her mouth as if she was about to protest, then her flanks convulsed and she shrank into the spasm, looking small and wretched with her fur slicked down.

“Come on!” Brambleberry meowed briskly. “We don’t have long.”

Rainflower dug her claws into the bark, and Shellheart shoved from behind. Panting, the queen hauled herself up until she reached a hollow in the trunk where the low branch jutted out.

Brambleberry skittered up the trunk, lithe as a squirrel, slipping past Shellheart. She glanced at the hollow where branch met trunk and nodded. “Here will do.” Then she blinked at Shellheart. “Can you get herbs from my den?”

Shellheart nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Be careful!” Rainflower gasped, but Shellheart had already leaped from the branch onto the slippery ground below and was racing back toward the flooded camp.

Brambleberry cleared wet leaves out of the low dip between branch and trunk. “Good. There’s plenty of room for you to lie down here.” She nosed Rainflower into the hollow and crouched beside her on the dripping bark.

“Will he be all right?” Rainflower whispered. She stared into the darkness where Shellheart had disappeared.

“He can take care of himself,” Brambleberry told her. Her fur was spiked, wet to the skin. She’d been RiverClan’s medicine cat for fewer than three moons since her mentor, Milkfur, had joined StarClan. This was the first time she’d dealt with an emergency on her own.

Rainflower shuddered as a fresh wave of pain passed through her belly. Brambleberry took a deep breath, blocking out the howling of the wind and the growl of thunder. She laid her forepaws gently on Rainflower’s flank as another contraction gripped the queen.

Brambleberry scanned the reed bed far below. No sign of Shellheart. “Here.” She nipped off a twig with her teeth and laid it beside Rainflower’s cheek. “Bite down on that when the pains come.”

“Is that all you have?” Rainflower hissed.

“It’s all you need,” Brambleberry told her. “Queens have been kitting since the ancient Clans. It’s the most natural thing in the world.”

Rainflower groaned and bit down on the stick, her body shuddering.

Claws ripped bark as Shellheart scrambled onto the branch. “Sorry,” he panted. His fur was drenched. “I had to swim to your den. I managed to get inside, but your herbs have all been washed away.”

Brambleberry closed her eyes as she thought of how many moons it had taken to build up that supply. Before she could reply, Rainflower hissed and the stick crunched between her teeth.

The first kit was coming.

Brambleberry leaned down in time to see a kit slither out on to the rough bark. She gave it a lick, and then passed the tiny, wriggling bundle to its father. “Don’t let it fall,” she warned.

“Is everything okay?” Brightsky was calling from the bottom of the tree. Water lapped her paws. The flood had reached the tree.

“One kit and one more to come,” Brambleberry reported.