Эрин Хантер - Firestar’s Quest

“I wish I knew where the rats had their nest,” Firestar muttered.

“Inside, I’d guess,” Sharpclaw slid up to him and mewed into his ear. “They’re always well hidden during the day. Our patrols have never spotted them.”

Firestar dug his claws into the ground. “I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to fight inside there.”

“It’s not like a cave,” Sparrowpaw pointed out. “It’s huge .

There’s plenty of room to get away.”

Firestar knew he was right, but the thought of trying to fight with walls around him and a roof blocking out the sky made him feel trapped and helpless. The former kittypets might see it differently, he supposed. They were used to being inside. But his own kittypet days were so far behind him, it was hard to imagine feeling like that.

“I’ll lead half the patrol inside,” Sharpclaw offered. “The rest of you can stay out here, and with any luck we’ll be able to lure the rats outside and fight in the open.”

Firestar nodded. “Good idea. I’ll come in with you.” He knew he couldn’t allow the ginger tom to go somewhere he dared not go himself.

“We want to come too,” Cherrypaw whispered.

“Okay. And Shortwhisker,” Firestar added. “The rest of you stay outside. Sandstorm, you’re in charge.”

His mate gave him a brief nod. Keeping low, his belly fur brushing the grass, Firestar led the way up to the fence and crept along it until he found the gap they had used to enter on their previous visit. He slid through with the rest of the patrol close behind.

Firestar’s pelt crawled as he surveyed the barn from close up. It loomed over his head, a shiny, unnatural Twoleg thing, with death at its heart. Were the rats aware that their enemies were only pawsteps away? He couldn’t feel the malevolent force that had been his first inkling of the rats’ presence, but he found it hard to believe that no eyes, glittering and malignant, were watching them now.

“What are we waiting for?” Sharpclaw hissed.

Firestar glanced back to check that Sandstorm and her patrol—Leafdapple, Patchfoot, Clovertail, and Rainfur—were all inside the fence. He gathered his own patrol with a wave of his tail, and crept up to the nearest gap in the barn wall. Leaping through it, he padded forward a pace or two to allow the others to follow, and looked around.

The stench of rat and crow-food was much stronger here.

His claws scraped on the hard floor, made of the same white stone that surrounded the barn on the outside, and the sound echoed eerily in the vast space. Firestar remembered Barley and Ravenpaw’s barn, made cozy with piles of hay and filled with the rustling and squeaking of mice. The bare, cold emptiness of this barn sent shudders through his fur.

On either side the barn lay in shadow, but moonlight filtering through ragged holes in the roof showed him a huge pile of Twoleg rubbish against the wall at the far end of the barn.

“The rats’ nest is probably in there,” Firestar whispered to Sharpclaw.

Sharpclaw nodded. “Let’s hope the stink of it will hide our scent.”

Firestar beckoned the rest of the patrol with his tail.

Cherrypaw and Sparrowpaw were glancing around with more curiosity than fear. Shortwhisker looked terrified, his fur fluffed out until he was twice his size, but he padded up determinedly at Firestar’s summons.

“We’re going to head for the nest,” Firestar told them.

“When the rats appear, race for the gaps and get outside.

With any luck, the rats will follow you.”

The patrol spread out into a ragged line across the barn and started to pad up to the pile of rubbish. Firestar felt horribly exposed, his heart pounding so rapidly he could hardly get his breath. Nothing moved among the rotting mounds of Twoleg stuff.

They were less than a fox-length from the pile when Firestar heard a scratching noise behind him, followed by a gasp of terror from Shortwhisker. For a heartbeat he froze, then whipped around to confront rows and rows of rats.

More rats than he had ever seen before had crept out of the shadows, covering the floor between the patrol and the gap where they had entered.

Firestar’s gaze darted over them, trying to pick out the leader, but all the sleek, dark brown bodies looked the same to him. Then a voice spoke, but the sound echoed around the bare walls of the barn so that he couldn’t tell which rat was talking.

“We killed you before. We will kill you again. You are few.

We are more.”

Sharpclaw let out a snarl of rage and leaped at the first row of rats.

“Stop!” Firestar yowled.

The ginger tom halted, glaring at him. “What now?”

“We must stick together,” Firestar explained, drawing the rest of the patrol into a huddle around him with a gesture of his tail. “If they separate us, we’re finished. We have to get outside, where we won’t be trapped.”

He had hardly finished speaking when the first wave of rats crashed over them. Facing outward, lashing out with claws and teeth, the patrol began to force a way through them, back toward the gap where they had entered. There was a second gap, but it was on the far side of the barn, and even more rats blocked their way to it. Firestar reminded himself that he had six lives to lose, while the cats around him had only one; he would have to fight harder to match their courage.

Rats swarmed around them, climbing on top of one another in their eagerness to sink in claws and teeth. But there were too many of them; they hadn’t the space to fight effectively. Firestar took a bite on one foreleg and a few nasty scratches around his head, but with the patrol tightly clustered together the rats couldn’t attack from behind, couldn’t attack at all without coming within reach of the warriors’ furious defense.

The gap was only a couple of tail-lengths away; Firestar began to hope that they would make it out into the open.

Then he heard a fearsome screech from outside. Rainfur leaped through the gap, with the rest of the patrol streaming behind him, and fell on the rats from behind.

Firestar let out a yowl of frustration. “No! Get back!”

The outside patrol obviously thought they had to come to the rescue; instead, they were putting every cat in worse danger. Screeching knots of cats and rats writhed on the floor in front of the gap, making it harder to get out. The outside patrol was already separated, each one fighting alone against a swarm of rats.

Before Firestar could yowl an order, his own patrol sprang apart, leaping to help their Clanmates. The whole barn exploded in blood and rage. The warriors’ furious screeches mingled with the dying screams of the rats, yet where one fell, two more took its place. Firestar spotted Clovertail batting rats away with both forepaws; Sharpclaw and Cherrypaw fought side by side, forcing their way through wave after wave of attacking rats.

“Out! Every cat get out!” Firestar screeched.

Sandstorm leaped across a cluster of snarling rats and landed at his side. “Sorry!” She gasped. “I couldn’t stop them from coming in.” She bared her teeth at a rat as it scuttled toward her; it flinched and spun around, right into Firestar’s outstretched paws. Fierce satisfaction surged through Firestar as he clawed its life out; whatever the end might be, it was good to fight side by side with Sandstorm again.

Gradually the SkyClan cats won their way back to the gap.

Leafdapple shoved Sparrowpaw out and followed him.

Patchfoot slipped out after her, then Shortwhisker. Clovertail shook off one rat with its fangs in her shoulder, struck another across the side of the head with one paw, and sprang out into the open. For the first time, Firestar let himself hope that they would all get out.