Эрин Хантер: Code of the Clans

“Ryewhisker, you can’t do this!” called the gray she-cat, who was struggling to her paws. “We have to fight our own battles!”

Ryewhisker glanced at her over his shoulder. “You think I’m going to let our kits be harmed by my own Clanmate?”

Hawkfur stared at him in disbelief. “Kits?” he echoed.

The brown tabby met his gaze. “Cloudberry is expecting my kits. I cannot let you hurt her.”

“Look out!” screeched Cloudberry.

There was a thunder of paws, abruptly cut off as a broad-shouldered RiverClan warrior leaped into the air. Then a soft thud as Ryewhisker’s legs folded under the weight of his attacker and he slumped to the ground, his eyes already closed. Blood pooled out from his shoulder, dark and shiny on the wet ground.

The gray tabby scrambled off him, shaking his pelt.

Cloudberry didn’t move, just stared at the limp brown body.

“Oh, Ryewhisker, what have you done?” she whispered.

“Is every Clan here?” Duststar called from on top of the huge gray rock. All around him, trees murmured softly in the night breeze, casting blurred shadows across the moonlit hollow. Duststar had asked the other leaders to meet him here because the hollow lay at the center of the Clans, yet it belonged to none since the battle that had separated the Clans for the very first time. The elders who could recall that battle stayed away from the hollow, convinced that the bloodstains would never be washed out of the grass. Duststar had chosen the night of the full moon because it would enable cats to travel safely—and offer none the temptation of darkness to launch an unsuspected attack.

“We are here,” replied Birchstar, leader of SkyClan. He sprang onto the rock to join Duststar, his strong haunches powering him up. The other leaders, unwilling to be left at the foot of the rock, scrambled up, too: Emberstar from RiverClan, Hollystar from ShadowClan, and Whitestar from ThunderClan, whose pelt glowed as bright as the moon in the half-light. The rest of the cats stayed on the ground, a patrol from each Clan, gazing somberly up at the leaders with their tails tucked over their paws.

“If you’re going to blame my Clan for the death of your warrior—” Emberstar began, raising his hackles.

Duststar shook his head. “No, Emberstar, that’s not why I asked you all to come here. Ryewhisker’s death is a tragedy we can ill afford after such a hard leaf-bare, but it would not have happened if he had not been… attached… to Cloudberry.”

He looked down at the RiverClan cats, but Cloudberry was not among them. She was probably too close to having her kits.

“From now on, cats must be loyal only to their own Clanmates.

Friendships with cats from another territory must be put aside for the sake of their Clan. We cannot allow our warriors to be distracted in battle or to fight for anything other than what is best for their own Clan. Are we agreed?”

Whitestar stood up. “Clan above all else. It makes sense to me.”

Hollystar and Birchstar nodded. Emberstar meowed, “Well said, Duststar. My Clan is sorry for the loss of your warrior. But from now on, each Clan stands—and fights—alone.”

“If we have less contact across borders, how will we let one another know about something that could be important, such as the arrival of foxes or Twoleg interference?” asked Hollystar, her blue eyes like tiny pieces of sky.

“We could meet here every full moon, when the forest is light enough to walk easily, and come in peace to share our news,” Birchstar suggested.

“A truce?” Duststar meowed.

There was a shocked murmuring among the cats of all Clans.

“We cannot promise peace when ThunderClan steals our prey!” hissed an elderly WindClan warrior.

“And we cannot promise peace while WindClan attacks our border patrols!” meowed a ThunderClan warrior with a torn ear.

“And which of the Clans can trust ShadowClan?” asked another cat.

A great yowling broke out among all the cats.

“Enough!” Duststar growled. He stretched to his full height and stared down at the cats in the hollow. “Birchstar, I see more clearly than ever that your suggestion is wise. Though I doubt any peace will hold even for one night, let us try it and see what it brings.”

“That’s all I ask,” Birchstar meowed.

“Cats of all the Clans!” Duststar continued. “From now on you must defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet cats you have befriended in battle. This will be our code, the law of warriors, and it is up to each one of us to carry it in our hearts. Until the next full moon, may StarClan guide your path.”

He jumped down from the rock and, with a flick of his tail, led the WindClan cats out of the hollow, toward the moon-washed moor.

-

DO NOT HUNT OR TRESPASS ON ANOTHER CLAN’S TERRITORY.

We take it for granted now that each Clan lives in the territory best suited to provide food for its particular hunting skils. But come with me to the time before borders were fixed, when cats took food from other territories if their own ran short. You will see that this code was needed, because if anything is likely to cause trouble, it’s theft of precious fresh-kill.

Three seasons had passed since the leaders of the Clans decided to meet in peace each full moon, and the truce had held. Stonestar, the WindClan leader, stood on the Great

Rock and surveyed the cats filing into the moonlit hollow. Their pelts stood out sharply against the snow, apart from Whitestar of ThunderClan, who was only visible when he looked up and Stonestar caught a glimpse of his dark eyes.

Whitestar, Emberstar, Birchstar, and Brindlestar, the new leader of ShadowClan, joined him on the rock. The leaders nodded to one another before standing in a line to look down on the cats below.

As the oldest leader, Emberstar was usually the first to speak, but Brindlestar didn’t give him a chance. “I have a complaint against ThunderClan!” she declared.

Whitestar faced her, his tail twitching. “We aren’t the ones stealing prey!” he hissed. “You can’t complain because our patrols drive you out every time.”

“It’s not stealing!” Brindlestar snapped. “What are we meant to eat, if we can’t find prey in our own territory?”

“Each Clan lives in the place where it is best suited to hunting,” Birchstar pointed out.

“Yeah, since when did ShadowClan start hunting in undergrowth and through brambles?” challenged Vinetail, ThunderClan’s deputy.

“Since we started starving in our own territory,” growled Lakestorm, the ShadowClan deputy.

Stonestar stepped forward. “ShadowClan should keep to its own prey,” he meowed firmly. “No Clan has prey to spare, especially not during leaf-bare.”

“Then what are we supposed to eat?” yowled Lakestorm. His voice cut through the icy air, and for a moment the hollow fell silent. Then a creaking sound began…

Stonestar peered up, trying to see where the noise was coming from. In the clearing, the cats huddled together in their Clans, too scared to flee.

Crashhhhhh!

A huge branch ripped away from one of the giant oaks and plunged onto the cats, sending flurries of snowflakes into the air. Stonestar watched in horror as the cats vanished in a swirling cloud of snow and twigs.

“SkyClan! SkyClan! Is every cat all right?” Birchstar ran to the edge of the rock and peered down, calling to her Clanmates. Whitestar and Brindlestar joined her, yowling into the cloud.