Эрин Хантер - Skyclan’s Destiny

I’ll have to do something to make him understand that he is among friends now, Leafstar decided. He’s more nervous than a cornered mouse.

The two Clan elders, Lichenfur and Tangle, were sharing tongues on a flat rock warmed by the sun. They looked content; Tangle was a bad-tempered old rogue who stopped in the gorge now and again to eat before going back to his den in the forest, but he seemed to get on fine with Lichenfur, and Leafstar hoped she would convince him to stay permanently in the camp.

Lichenfur had lived alone in the woods farther up the gorge, aware of the new Clan but staying clear of them. She had almost died when she had been caught in a fox trap, until a patrol had found her and brought her back to camp for healing. After that she had been glad to give up the life of a loner. “She has wisdom to teach the Clan,” Leafstar mewed softly from the ledge. “Every Clan needs its elders.”

The loud squeals she could hear were coming from Bouncepaw, Tinypaw, and Rockpaw, who were chasing one another in a tight circle, their fur bristling with excitement. As Leafstar watched, their mother, Clovertail, padded up to them, her whiskers twitching anxiously. Leafstar couldn’t hear what she said, but the apprentices skidded to a halt; Clovertail beckoned Tinypaw with a flick of her tail, and started to give her face a thorough wash. Leafstar purred with amusement as the young white she-cat wriggled under the swipes of her mother’s rough tongue, while Clovertail’s eyes shone with pride.

Pebbles pattering down beside her startled Leafstar. Looking up, she saw Patchfoot heading down the rocky trail with a squirrel clamped firmly in his jaws. Waspwhisker followed him, with his apprentice, Mintpaw, a paw step behind; they both carried mice. Leafstar gave a little nod of approval as the hunting patrol passed her. Prey was becoming more plentiful with the warmer weather, and the fresh-kill pile was swelling. She pictured Waspwhisker when he had first joined the Clan during the first snowfall of leaf-bare: a lost kittypet wailing with cold and hunger as he blundered along the gorge. Now the gray-and-white tom was one of the most skillful hunters in the Clan, with an apprentice of his own. He even had kits, with another former stray named Fallowfern.

SkyClan is growing.

As their father padded past, Waspwhisker’s four kits bounced out of the nursery and scampered behind him, squeaking. Their mother, Fallowfern, emerged more slowly and edged her way down the trail after them; she still wasn’t completely comfortable with the sheer cliff face and pointed rocks that surrounded SkyClan’s camp.

“Be careful!” she called. “Don’t fall!”

The kits had already reached the bottom of the gorge, getting under their father’s paws, cuffing one another over the head and rolling over perilously near to the pool. Waspwhisker gently nudged the pale brown tom, Nettlekit, away from the edge.

But as soon as their father turned away to drop his prey on the fresh-kill pile, Nettlekit’s sister, Plumkit, jumped on him. Nettlekit swiped at her, as if he was trying to copy a battle move he’d seen when the apprentices were training. Plumkit rolled over; Nettlekit staggered, lost his balance, and toppled into the river.

Fallowfern let out a wail. “Nettlekit!”

Stifling a gasp, Leafstar sprang to her paws, but she was too far away to do anything. Fallowfern leaped swiftly from boulder to boulder, but Waspwhisker was faster still, plunging into the pool after his kit. Leafstar lost sight of them for a few heartbeats. She watched the other Clan cats huddled at the water’s edge—all except for Shrewtooth, who paced up and down the bank, his tail lashing in agitation. Leafstar purred with relief when she saw Waspwhisker hauling himself out of the river with Nettlekit clamped firmly in his jaws. The tiny tom’s paws flailed until his father set him down on the rock. Then he shook himself, spattering every cat with shining drops of water. Fallowfern pounced on him and started to lick his pelt, but Nettlekit struggled away from her and hurled himself straight at Plumkit.

“I’ll teach you to push me in the river!” he squealed.

“I did not push you! You fell in, so there!” Plumkit yowled back. She crouched down and leaped forward to meet her littermate in midair. The two kits tussled together in a knot of fur while their parents, looking frustrated, tried to separate them.

Leafstar glanced over her shoulder at the sound of paw steps approaching from farther down the gorge and saw Echosong with a bundle of herbs in her mouth. The young medicine cat’s soft fur shone in the sunlight, reminding Leafstar that not long ago she had been a kittypet. But now she moved confidently over the stony ground, her pads hardened by her time in the gorge, and she had the lean, muscular strength of a Clan cat.

Echosong looked up at her Clan leader. “Greetings, Leafstar!” she called, her voice blurred by the herbs.

“Greetings!” Leafstar meowed back to her. “We’ll start the warrior ceremony soon.”

Echosong acknowledged her words with a wave of her tail, and vanished into her den near the bottom of the cliff to add the herbs to her store.

“Are you ready?”

Leafstar started as a voice spoke at her shoulder, and spun around to see her deputy, Sharpclaw, standing behind her. She hadn’t noticed his silent approach. “Oh, it’s you,” she meowed. “You frightened my fur off, creeping up on me like that!”

The dark ginger tom narrowed his eyes in amusement. “Nothing frightens your fur off, Leafstar.” With a glance at the sky, he added, “It’s sunhigh. When are you going to start the ceremony?”

“I’m waiting for the others,” Leafstar explained.

Sharpclaw’s amusement vanished and he flicked his tail. “You should carry on without them,” he meowed impatiently.

Leafstar twitched one ear in surprise, and saw a defensive look come into her deputy’s eyes.

“We never know when they’re going to turn up,” he persisted. “And there are three young cats down there ready to burst with excitement.”

Glancing at the Rockpile again, Leafstar saw that he was right. Bouncepaw and Rockpaw were circling each other as if they were about to start battle training, while Tinypaw bounced up and down on the spot, too anxious to sit still. Their shrill mews floated up to Leafstar.

“Very well.” Leafstar dipped her head. “We’ll start now.”

With one more glance at the top of the gorge, she led the way down the trail to the Rockpile. As she and Sharpclaw approached, their Clanmates parted to let them through. Leafstar bunched her muscles and sprang to the top of the rocks, while Sharpclaw took his place at the base, not far from the fresh-kill pile. From the Rockpile, Leafstar looked down at her deputy’s broad shoulders, and felt a stab of gratitude for his courage and loyalty.

He’s a good deputy. Firestar advised me well.

Leafstar raised her head and let her yowl echo throughout the gorge. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Rockpile for a Clan meeting!”

Sagepaw shot out of the apprentices’ den and raced down the trail to join his littermate, Mintpaw, at the foot of the Rockpile. They settled down, tails twitching, not far from Sharpclaw and Waspwhisker. Sagepaw’s mentor, Petalnose, emerged from the warriors’ den and padded down to sit beside her apprentice. Patchfoot sat beside Clovertail, who was heavy with his kits; the she-cat leaned over and touched his ear with her nose, but her attention stayed fixed on the three apprentices.

Leafstar suppressed a sigh when she saw how Shrewtooth edged away as the other warriors approached. He peered around nervously as if he thought the gorge was full of enemies and then skittered down to the very edge of the stream, where he sat, darting anxious glances around him.