Эрин Хантер - Battles of the Clans

But there was one battle, not long before Firestar joined the Clan, where these rocks served me well. See that gully down there? Ah, that’s better; now we can walk through it. Squeeze past the rock shaped like a cat’s muzzle. Here, in this space so narrow that it’s almost like a cave, I watched my deputy, Redtail, kill Oakheart, the RiverClan deputy. It was a quick fight—Oakheart tried to use his weight to knock Redtail against the stone wall, but Redtail sprang right over him, reaching down to slice Oakheart’s flanks with his claws. Oakheart staggered and crashed onto his knees; he tried to lash out at Redtail, who just stepped backward, knowing the fight was over as Oakheart’s life spilled out onto the sand. In that moment, I saw the best opportunity I’d had to make deputy. I was a good warrior; I deserved to be deputy. Only Redtail stood in my way.

Look up; see how tight the gully is above our heads. I knew that no cats elsewhere on Sunningrocks would have seen what just happened. The truth about Oakheart’s death could die with Redtail. My Clanmate thought I was going to congratulate him. He never saw the strike that fell across his neck. He lay where you’re standing now with the light of victory still in his eyes. I carried his body back to the camp and told Bluestar that Oakheart had killed him, and I had taken Oakheart’s life in furious vengeance. I should have been made deputy! Not Lionheart! Bluestar knew nothing of justice and true courage!

I had my revenge seasons later, when I became leader of ShadowClan. Dogs came to the forest, fierce and wild and ravenous, and I turned them on my former Clanmates to show they should never have doubted my loyalty. Look around—we’re not at Sunningrocks now. This is Snakerocks, a place where few hunting patrols come because of the adders that live here. But ThunderClan had far more to fear when the dogs made a den in a cave under that overhanging slab of rock. I kept the dogs here by bringing them fresh rabbits; it was easy to sneak into ThunderClan’s territory when my scent was not fully ShadowClan. The first victims were apprentices, Brightpaw and Swiftpaw, who were foolish enough to hunt too close. Swiftpaw was killed at once; Brightpaw survived, but she has probably wished more than once since then that she hadn’t. Did you see her in ThunderClan? The cat with half a face?

If I’d had my way, the dogs would have invaded the ravine, lured there by my trail of rabbits, and destroyed ThunderClan forever. I misjudged the courage of my old Clanmates; I should have known they’d treat this as one more battle, protected by their faith in their precious StarClan. Firestar, who was deputy by then, arranged a line of cats to lead the dogs away from the camp.

We’re at the top of the ravine now—look down there, where the bushes are thickest. Our dens were hidden around a clearing; if the dogs had made it that far, the cats would have been trapped by the brambles they had relied on for shelter and protection. Ashfur and Ferncloud ran first, because they had lost their mother, Brindleface, to the dogs. They raced through the trees with the dogs on their heels; then Sandstorm took over. One by one, ThunderClan warriors led the dogs through the trees to the gorge. Do you hear that sound like thunder? That’s the river churning along the foot of the cliffs at the edge of WindClan’s territory. Bluestar gave up her ninth life to lure the dogs over. In our final battle, she won. She saved her Clan and secured her place in StarClan.

Stay away from the edge! You don’t want to follow Bluestar, do you? It’s time I took you back to Tawnypelt. I can hear her calling through the mist. Oh, I wouldn’t tell her that you saw me if I were you. She may be my daughter, but she’s like most of the other cats by the lake, who view courage in battle as something not to be trusted. Ha, if any of them had a whisker of my ambition, none of the leaders would sleep in peace! I have no regrets—everything is turning out as I planned—but I miss those days in the forest, when battles answered all the questions, and my allies would shed every last drop of blood fighting alongside me.

What do we have here? Kittypets? At a Gathering ? Ah, Onestar, they’re with you. That’s all right then, I suppose. Make yourselves comfortable—no, not there! That’s Pouncetail’s favorite spot. Come sit beside me on this log. My name’s Dapplenose; Pouncetail and I belong to RiverClan. Over there are Cedarheart, Tallpoppy, and Snaketail from ShadowClan. Don’t take any notice of them; they’re always making faces. I could outrun them when we were all warriors, so they don’t scare me. Yes, I could, Snaketail! The brown she-cat is Mousefur from ThunderClan. I haven’t seen her at Gatherings for many moons, poor old thing. Her denmate, Longtail, died last moon when a tree fell into their camp. Treat her gently, if you speak to her. The bitter scent that clings to her is grief.

The last battle I fought in? It was when all four Clans met in ThunderClan’s territory. Not a proud time for any of us. Did you hear how StarClan stopped it? They made the sun disappear!

Terrible, terrible. We thought the world was coming to an end. Even after the sun came back, we were scared for a long time that it would vanish again. If you can’t trust the sun to be in the sky, what can you trust?

But not all of that battle was shameful. Pouncetail will tell you the story if you ask him nicely enough. He was pretty much the only cat who brought honor to RiverClan that day…

Ah, I see Nightwhisper is here tonight. See that scrawny brown tom under the thorn tree? He has a tale that will haunt your dreams, if you dare to listen. I’ve heard from his Clanmates that his sleep is haunted, and he wakes shrieking about rivers of blood and the taste of enemy fur in his mouth. He has seen too many battles alongside Tigerstar, I fear.

But not all of our battles were against other Clans, you know. We have united more than once against a common enemy—there was even a time back in the forest when foxes caused so much trouble, it took all four Clans to drive them out. Maybe Graystripe will tell you about that later. Listen well, young kittypets. The history of our Clans is alive around you, preserved in the memories of every cat.

Iwas doing my duty according to the warrior code; that’s all, Dapplenose. But you’re right; a lot of us forgot about compassion that day. We came in support of WindClan, believing they had been treated unfairly over their recent border dispute with ThunderClan. The battle was like a roaring lion by the time we reached the shore below ThunderClan’s camp; we could hear it echoing through the trees, and followed the trails of blood to where cats from the other three Clans wrestled and sliced and spat.

I wasn’t afraid. I was a warrior: This was what I had been trained for from the moment my eyes first opened. I didn’t know ThunderClan’s territory well, but my Clanmate Blackclaw had visited the hollow once with Mothwing, our medicine cat. He told us about an abandoned Twoleg nest that would give us the advantage of height as well as a place to lie in wait for other cats passing along the old Thunderpath. We crept through the bracken, skirting the hollow, fighting not to get tangled up in the wretched undergrowth.