Эрин Хантер - Code of the Clans

“Wait!” Whitestar ordered. Pushing his way through the other leaders, he turned to face them. “One at a time, or no cat will hear you. Birchstar, you go first.” He stepped back, and only his trembling paws showed how terrified he was for the safety of his own Clan.

“SkyClan cats! Can you hear me?” Birchstar yowled.

There was a muffled sound, then a speckled gray head popped up at the edge of the hollow. It was Rainsplash, the deputy. “We’re all here, Birchstar!” he called.

Stonestar stepped forward. The ground seemed a long way down, a mess of churned snow divided by a huge black branch bristling with twigs. “WindClan? Are you there?”

Mudpuddle, the brown-and-white deputy, scrambled up from the far side of the clearing. “All safe, Stonestar!” he reported, and Stonestar let out his breath in relief.

Emberstar quickly established that the RiverClan cats had been too far back to be hit by the falling branch. That left ThunderClan and ShadowClan. The branch had toppled right into the center of the Gathering, directly onto the two quarreling Clans.

Brindlestar walked to the edge of the rock. “ShadowClan, are you all right?”

The leaders waited in silence. Heartbeats passed, broken only by the faint plop of snow sliding from the trees. Then, “We’re all okay, Brindlestar!” A bundle of twigs rattled together at one side of the branch, and Lakestorm pushed his way out. Once he was free, he turned to help his Clanmates out behind him.

Brindlestar narrowed her eyes, checking each member of her patrol. She nodded. “Lakestorm’s right,” she murmured.

“ShadowClan is safe.”

Now it was Whitestar’s turn. Stonestar held his breath again.

There was no way that branch could have fallen into the hollow without crushing several cats. It was too big, too heavy. It had carved too great a slice through the clearing…

“We’re fine, too!” Before Whitestar could speak, Vinetail’s voice rang out as he wriggled free from a heap of snow. The rest of the ThunderClan cats tumbled out around him, shaking cold, wet clumps from their pelts and out of their ears.

“How can this be?” Whitestar whispered. “That branch fell on top of ThunderClan and ShadowClan; there was no room between them!”

Stonestar looked once more at the massive chunk of tree, then at the two groups of cats standing on either side, unhurt and exclaiming at their good luck.

“It’s a sign from StarClan,” Stonestar meowed, loud enough for his fellow leaders to hear but not the cats below. “StarClan is telling us that even when Clans are close together, they are separate, far enough apart for a tree to fall without touching them.

Borders may be invisible and thin as a whisker, but they are strong as oak, and they cannot be crossed. Not for friendship, not for prey, not for anything.”

Whitestar was nodding. “It’s a sign,” he said.

Brindlestar was staring in disbelief at the cats of her Clan.

They were dazed and shocked but without injuries. Then she looked down at the fallen branch. “StarClan has spared my cats for a reason,” she mewed.

“Find food in your territory,” Stonestar urged. “Use the skills that only you and your Clanmates have—your cunning, stealth, ability to walk through the darkest nights. The prey is there, and you’re the only Clan that can find it.”

“You are right. StarClan must not wish us to take inferior food from inferior Clans.” Brindlestar glanced at Whitestar, who wisely did not respond.

“Then it’s decided,” Emberstar meowed. “Another rule has been added to the warrior code. We must not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory.”

“Agreed,” the other leaders mewed in unison. They dipped their heads to one another. “Until the next Gathering, may

StarClan walk your path.”

23

Not all cats obey the code all the time.

For where there are young cats and a set of rules to break, there is always mischief brewing…

“Ouch! You’re stepping on my foot!”

“Sorry!” puffed Dappletail. “I thought it was a pebble.”

“Since when do pebbles have fur?” demanded White-eye, shaking her paw. She turned so that starlight glowed in her remaining eye; the other had been clawed out by a badger when she was an apprentice, blinding her.

Dappletail wriggled up beside her—on the side where White-eye could see. “Are we at the river?” she mewed.

White-eye shifted to make room under the ferns. “Yup.

Look!”

Ahead of them, the ground was covered with small gray stones, sloping down to the thick black water that flowed swiftly by, sparkling with reflected stars.

“It’s kind of spooky at night,” Dappletail whispered, shrinking back against White-eye’s sturdy shoulder.

White-eye gave her a nudge. “We’ll be fine,” she assured her.

There was no way she was going back to the camp now. This was the biggest adventure she’d ever had! In fact, it was probably the biggest adventure any ThunderClan cat had had. They didn’t need to take RiverClan’s prey—it was greenleaf, and the woods were thrumming with juicy birds and squirrels—but White-eye wanted to know what fish tasted like, and why RiverClan was so snooty about its prey being the best of all the Clans’.

Dappletail jumped onto a flattened rock at the edge of the river and peered into the water. “I don’t see any fish,” she whispered.

“Do you think they’ve gone to sleep?”

White-eye huffed impatiently as she squeezed onto the rock beside her. “Fish don’t sleep!”

“They must,” Dappletail argued. “Otherwise they’d be really tired.”

“Well, maybe some of them are awake.” White-eye wriggled forward until her front legs dangled over the water.

Dappletail eyed her dubiously. “Is that how RiverClan cats catch fish? You look like you’re about to fall in.”

“Look!” White-eye strained her neck out, her whiskers quivering with the effort. “There’s something over there!”

She tensed her hindquarters, and before Dappletail could say anything, she leaped off the rock with her front paws outstretched and plummeted into the water with an enormous splash.

Dappletail sprang back, blinking as drops flew into her eyes.

She shook her head and stared at the river. The current flowed as swiftly as ever, but now it was carrying White-eye, gasping and scrabbling to keep her head above the surface.

“White-eye!” Dappletail wailed. “Come back!”

“I’m… trying…” came the muffled reply. There was another splash and White-eye’s head bobbed under a wave as the water swept her around a rock.

Dappletail stood on the shore, her tail bristling with shock.

“Help!” she yowled.

White-eye reappeared farther downstream. “Don’t… tell anyone… we’re… here,” she spluttered. “Get… into… trouble…”

“But you’re drowning!” Dappletail shrieked. “Help!”

Somewhere in the forest an owl hooted, but there were no sounds of cats coming to help. Dappletail looked at the swift black river, took a deep breath, and ran into the waves. The water was so cold she couldn’t breathe. Waves slapped around her, cutting her off from either shore and filling her ears with a deafening hiss.

Swimming’s just like running, but in water, right?

She untangled her legs and tried to move them as if she were walking on grass, but as soon as she hauled herself upright in the water she sank and had to scrabble back to the surface, gasping for air. This was the worst idea White-eye had ever had!