Эрин Хантер - Firestar’s Quest

“No,” the ShadowClan leader replied. “I don’t think they even know we’re there. They’ll be no trouble so long as we stay away from them.”

“They must frighten the prey, though,” Tallstar muttered to Firestar. “I wouldn’t want any more of them on my territory; that’s for sure.”

“ShadowClan cats are better than most of us at hiding,” Firestar pointed out under his breath.

Blackstar stepped back, nudging Tallstar. “Go on, it’s your turn,” he meowed.

The WindClan leader dipped his head before advancing to the edge of the rock. “All is well in WindClan,” he reported. “Ashfoot has a new litter of three kits. Onewhisker and Mudclaw chased off a fox who seemed to think it would be happier living on the moors than in the woods.”

“We soon changed its mind!” Mudclaw, the WindClan deputy, yowled from where he sat at the base of the Great Rock.

“You’d better keep a lookout for it,” Tallstar continued to Leopardstar. “It crossed into your territory near the river.”

“Thank you for that, Tallstar,” the RiverClan leader replied dryly. “Another fox is just what we need. I’ll warn the patrols.”

Firestar reminded himself to do the same. RiverClan territory was narrow there, and if the fox had kept going it could easily have crossed into ThunderClan.

Meanwhile, Leopardstar had stepped forward. “As usual in greenleaf, there are more Twolegs around,” she meowed.

“They bring boats onto the river, and their kits play in the water and frighten the fish. This season the river is low, so there aren’t quite as many Twolegs as usual. However, we have no problem feeding ourselves.”

Firestar wondered if that was completely true. If the water was low in the river then surely there wouldn’t be so many fish either. But it wasn’t his place to argue, and he knew that Leopardstar, like all the leaders, wouldn’t want her Clan to seem weak from lack of food.

“ThunderClan has a new warrior too,” he announced when Leopardstar stepped back. “Bramblepaw had his warrior ceremony, and is now Brambleclaw.”

Another chorus of congratulations broke out, while

Brambleclaw sat beside his sister and acknowledged them with an embarrassed dip of his head. While he waited for the noise to die down, Firestar decided not to mention Longtail’s accident. Before the next Gathering, Cinderpelt would probably have healed the tabby warrior’s eyes, and the whole inci-dent would be forgotten.

“Our prey is plentiful and the Twolegs aren’t bothering us,” he finished.

It wasn’t often that a Gathering ended so quickly, with no serious disturbances to report from outside, and no reason for quarrels among the Clans. As Blackstar brought it to a close, Firestar looked down into the hollow. It was harder and harder to remember how it had looked after the battle with BloodClan, when the grass was stained red and the bodies of forest cats and the invaders from Twolegplace lay scattered across the clearing.

He had lost his first life then, seeing a pale outline of himself take its place among the warriors of StarClan.

The starry cats had given him the courage to fight on when they told him there had always been four Clans living in the forest, and there always would be.

Life would go on like this forever; Firestar found the thought comforting. The daily routine of patrols, the toil of finding prey and training apprentices—even disturbing events like Longtail’s injury and his own unexplained dreams—seemed small and insignificant when placed beside the unending pattern of Clan life. Firestar was part of a long, long line of cats all driven by loyalty to their Clanmates and the warrior code. Even when he had lost his last life, the Great Oaks would still be here, one for each Clan, until his name had been long forgotten.

The Gathering was over. Firestar bunched his muscles to leap down into the clearing. As he looked for a space to land, he froze, gripping the surface of the rock with his claws. The hollow suddenly seemed more crowded than usual. Sleek, starlit shapes were weaving among the forest cats, close enough for their pelts to brush. The forest cats passed them without a glance, calling out to their Clanmates as they prepared to leave. The other three leaders leaped down into the midst of the strangers like water voles leaping into a pool. Leopardstar almost landed on top of a shimmering white warrior, and bounded away without even a twitch of her whiskers.

Firestar shivered. None of the others can see them!

His gaze was drawn to one cat among the starry shapes: the gray-and-white cat he had seen twice before. He was staring directly at Firestar, his jaws open in a silent plea, but before Firestar could respond, Mudclaw of WindClan passed in front of him and the gray-and-white cat vanished.

Firestar knew these were the same cats he had seen leaping in the river, the same cats that had appeared to him indistinctly through the mist in his dreams. Who are they? And what are they doing here?

“Hey, Firestar!” Graystripe called from the foot of the Great Rock. “Are you going to stay up there all night?”

Firestar gave himself a shake. He couldn’t go on like this.

These cats had stalked him through his dreams, and now they were haunting him in the waking world as well. He had to find out why, and if Cinderpelt couldn’t help him, there might be other cats who could.

He leaped down to where Graystripe was waiting for him with Sandstorm, Brambleclaw, and the rest of the ThunderClan warriors. “Graystripe, I want you and Sandstorm to lead the Clan back to camp.”

“Why, where are you going?”

Firestar took a deep breath. “I need to go to the Moonstone. I have to share tongues with StarClan.”

Graystripe looked surprised, but Sandstorm’s green gaze met Firestar’s with a look of understanding.

“I knew something’s been troubling you,” she mewed quietly, brushing her pelt against his. “Maybe you’ll feel better after you’ve spoken to our warrior ancestors.”

“I hope so,” Firestar responded.

“Shall I come with you?” Graystripe offered. “The rest of the Clan don’t need me to take them home, and you never know what might be lurking on the moors. What if that fox has come back?”

“No, thanks, Graystripe,” Firestar meowed. “I’ll go with WindClan as far as their camp, and after that I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Graystripe gathered the rest of the ThunderClan warriors together with a sweep of his tail. “When you pass Barley’s farm, say hi to Ravenpaw for me.”

“I’ll do that.” Firestar turned to Sandstorm and touched his nose to hers. “Good-bye. I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck.” Sandstorm blinked at him. “I hope you find some answers. It feels like you’re a long way away just now.”

Giving her ear a final lick, Firestar plunged into the bushes up to the top of the slope on the WindClan side of the hollow. Tallstar was already leading his cats onto the moor: small, dark shapes outlined against a wash of moonlight. Firestar raced after them until he overtook the cat who brought up the rear.

“Hi, Onewhisker,” he panted. “Is it okay if I travel with you? I need to go to Highstones.”

“Sure. No trouble, I hope?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Firestar replied, hoping that was true.

He said good-bye to the WindClan cats on the slope above the hollow where they camped. Dawn was breaking as he set out for Highstones, the pointed mass of rock dark against the pale sky. A chill wind ruffled the short, springy grass, pressing Firestar’s fur against his sides. Up here the sky seemed huge, without any trees for cover. The scents were unfamiliar, too: a mixture of gorse, heather, and rabbits, with a sharp tang of peaty earth.