Эрин Хантер - Firestar’s Quest

“And tell the other kittypets about SkyClan,” Sparrowpaw added.

Leafdapple dipped her head. “Farewell, Hutch. Don’t forget to come and visit us. You helped save SkyClan, and you’ll always be welcome here.”

Hutch brightened a little. “I won’t forget any of you—especially you, Firestar,” he added, glancing at the flame-colored tom. “You’ve taught me so much.”

“I’ve learned from you, too,” Firestar replied, meaning it.

“May StarClan light your path.”

The two toms touched noses; then Hutch turned and began to make his way toward the distant walls of the Twolegplace. His head and tail were held high, and he didn’t look back.

“So that’s the end,” Sharpclaw murmured, looking after him. “The last echo of our battle against the rats.”

“No,” Leafdapple meowed. “There’s one more thing to do.”

Firestar and Sharpclaw exchanged a mystified glance, and followed her down the trail to the warriors’ cave. Leafdapple stood facing the stone trunk with its ancient claw marks: the marks of many cats and the tiny claw marks of the rats scored across them as a sign of their long-ago victory.

“This,” Leafdapple meowed. Extending her claws, she raked them down the stone, then again and a third time, until the rat scratches were obliterated under deep vertical scars.

The record of the first defeat was gone.

“Now the gorge belongs to SkyClan again,” the tabby she-cat announced.

The days that followed the battle were gray with clouds.

Stiff breezes blew with a tang of rain, and one morning Firestar emerged from the warriors’ den to find the rocks rimed with frost. He stood sniffing the cold air until Sandstorm appeared, fluffing up her pelt against the claws of the wind.

“We should leave soon,” she murmured, with a glance behind to make sure she wasn’t rousing the sleeping warriors.

“We can’t travel in leaf-bare. It’ll be too cold to sleep out, and there’ll be precious little prey.”

“There’s a while yet before leaf-bare,” Firestar argued.

Sandstorm fixed him with a glinting green gaze. “Don’t you trust SkyClan to survive without you?”

“It’s not that,” Firestar protested.

“The rats aren’t a threat anymore,” Sandstorm reminded him.

“I know, but the rats aren’t the only problem. Will the SkyClan warriors be able to get along with one another without us to help them with patrols and duties? What about the kittypets in the Twolegplace… there could be trouble with them. And it’ll be harder for them to find prey as the weather gets colder.”

Sandstorm scraped her claws along the rock. “Firestar, will you listen to yourself? Every Clan has problems like those.

Every cat has to work together to follow the warrior code, and if they do that they’ll be safe and well fed. The SkyClan cats know that now. You’ve done your part; you’ve found them a medicine cat—now it’s up to them.”

Firestar knew that she was right. If he waited until he could be sure of unbroken peace and an easy life for SkyClan, he would never leave. Yet he knew too that he still had one more task to do.

“We can’t leave yet,” he meowed. “Not until we can be sure that SkyClan can reach their warrior ancestors. And part of that is finding out which cat StarClan has chosen to be leader.”

Sandstorm blew out a long sigh, riffling her whiskers. “I suppose you’re right. But I hope it’s soon; that’s all.”

Sandstorm roused Leafdapple; the two cats collected Sparrowpaw and left for the dawn patrol. Firestar padded back into the warriors’ den and found Patchfoot stirring.

“Hunting patrol?” he suggested.

Patchfoot sat up eagerly. “Sure. I’ll be right with you.”

“I’ll join you.” Sharpclaw raised his head from his mossy nest across the cave. “If that’s okay.”

“I’d rather you led a separate patrol,” Firestar told him. “I want to take Cherrypaw and watch her hunting action, without her mentor breathing down her neck. It’s time she and Sparrowpaw were made warriors.”

“Fine.” Sharpclaw’s eyes gleamed with approval. “I reckon they’re ready, too. I’ll take Clovertail and Rain…” His voice trailed off. “Just Clovertail, I guess.”

Firestar led his patrol downriver, across the spur of rock and into the trees. Leaves whirled in the air; only the last brittle remnants remained on the branches. The cold weather was here, and prey would be much scarcer through the long leaf-bare moons. Yet SkyClan was still small; if they were careful they should be able to feed themselves.

He watched Cherrypaw stalk a squirrel across a stretch of open ground and bring it down with a mighty leap as it tried to escape up a tree. She was easily ready to become a warrior, but Firestar held back from telling her that. He wanted the new leader of SkyClan to give her and Sparrowpaw their warrior names—as soon as there was a sign from SkyClan’s warrior ancestors about which cat that would be.

The three cats hunted until they had all the fresh-kill they could carry. There was no sense now of hostile eyes among the undergrowth, no scent or sound to suggest that the rats were still here. SkyClan had made this place their own.

Firestar had returned to camp and was depositing his fresh-kill on the pile when Echosong padded up to him.

“Firestar, I need to talk to you.” Her green eyes were puzzled. “Will you come to my den for a moment?”

As she spoke, Firestar was irresistibly reminded of Spottedleaf and Cinderpelt. Echosong fit exactly into the role of a medicine cat now, though he knew her formal acceptance was another ceremony that rested in the paws of SkyClan’s warrior ancestors.

She didn’t speak again until they were sitting in the outer cave, with the scents of sweet herbs all around them. “I was sorting herbs in here,” she began, “and I had a… I think you would call it a vision.” Looking almost embarrassed, she licked one small gray paw and drew it over her ear.

Firestar’s paws tingled, but he made himself remain calm.

“What was it?”

“I thought I was gathering herbs in the wood above the gorge. I was alone, and yet I felt so safe and protected! It was as if kind eyes were all around me, watching over me…”

“Go on,” Firestar encouraged.

“The sun was shining, as if it was a warm day in green-leaf.

And the shadows of leaves were dappling the ground all around me, so perfectly, like pebbles on the riverbed. I noticed them especially, because the leaves are dying now.

The pattern of light and shade swirled around me, even though the leaves above my head were still. And then I was back here. It wasn’t a dream, Firestar,” she insisted. “I was awake all the time. Do you think it means anything, or am I making a fuss about nothing?”

“StarClan send their signs for a reason,” Firestar replied.

“All we have to do is work out what that is.” He sat silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed to slits, picturing the small tabby cat in the sunlit forest. “Warm sun. It’s leaf-bare now, but there were leaves dappling the ground…” he murmured.

“Leafdapple!” Echosong burst out. “My warrior ancestors were telling me something about Leafdapple.”

Every hair in Firestar’s pelt rose. This must be the sign SkyClan had been waiting for! Echosong’s vision showed that the Clan’s warrior ancestors really were watching over them.

Even more important, they had sent the sign to Echosong and not to him. She was a true medicine cat now, with a connection to the starry spirits that would help her guide her Clan in the moons to come.

The puzzled look gradually cleared from Echosong’s eyes.

“What this Clan needs more than anything is a leader,” she murmured. “Do you think they were showing me which cat it should be?”