Эрин Хантер - Battles of the Clans

At last we crawled out onto a broad stone track speckled with weeds—the old Thunderpath, I guessed. I shook myself, convinced that I’d left half my pelt stuck on brambles. Blackclaw and Reedwhisker had emerged a couple of tail-lengths away on one side; on the other, Dawnflower scrambled out, hissing at a tendril that was trailing after her, stuck to her tail. I ran over and trod on the tendril, letting her pull herself free.

“This way,” Blackclaw called in a low voice.

We slunk along the edge of the path, keeping as close to the undergrowth as we could without getting tangled. The sound of fighting came from behind us through the trees as my Clanmates leaped bravely to help WindClan against a patrol of angry ThunderClan cats. Ahead, the stone track was quiet—too quiet. The scent of ShadowClan hung on the breeze, growing stronger as we crept forward.

Blackclaw stopped in the shelter of some ferns that were straying onto the path. “The Twoleg nest is just beyond here,” he whispered.

“I don’t like this silence. I can smell ShadowClan close by,” Reedwhisker growled.

Dawnflower nodded. “They could be using the nest for an ambush of their own.”

“Then we’ll attack as if we expect them to be there,” Blackclaw decided. “If the nest turns out to be empty, so much the better. Pouncetail, you and Reedwhisker go around the back.” He pointed with his tail. “If I remember correctly, there’s a hole halfway up the wall that you should be able to jump through. Dawnflower and I will take the front entrance.”

Beside me, Reedwhisker was breathing hard, his claws sinking into the leafy dirt between the cracked stone. I kept my claws sheathed and stared into the undergrowth that blocked my view of the Twoleg nest. I thought I could see a tiny path leading through, perhaps made by a rabbit or a mouse trundling in search of food.

“Go!” hissed Blackclaw.

I sprang into the bracken, aiming for the almost invisible trail, with Reedwhisker at my paws.

Picking up the scent of mouse, I weaved through the stalks where tiny paws had walked ahead of me, trying not to shudder as fronds clutched at my pelt.

Suddenly the air ahead dazzled me with light, and I stopped just before I burst into the open.

Peering cautiously out, I saw the Twoleg nest, which looked more like a pile of stones crumbling to the ground. There was no sign of any cat, but ShadowClan scent clung to the warm breeze amid the sickly smell of dusty leaves and churned-up bracken. We padded over to the Twoleg nest and waited under the hole in the wall that Blackclaw had described.

Faint murmurs came from inside: “Can you see anything?”

“No, but I’m sure I heard a RiverClan cat yowl just now.”

“Have they come to help WindClan, do you think?”

“They wouldn’t have had to come all this way to help ThunderClan, would they, mouse-brain?

They’d have attacked WindClan from the other side!”

“No point ruffling our fur about RiverClan,” put in a third voice. “That bunch of fatties wouldn’t take on a mouse if it lay down under their paws.”

I used my tail to tell Reedwhisker to get ready. When I flicked the tip, we both sprang up to the hole, scrabbling against the rough stone with our hind legs to push ourselves up. I balanced on the narrow wall, blinking to let my eyes adjust to the darkness inside the nest. Three pairs of eyes stared at me in surprise. Before they had a chance to react, I howled, “Attack!” and jumped down into the nest.

I stumbled as I landed on the pitted earthen floor, and a ShadowClan warrior flung himself onto my back. I let myself keep falling until I was rolling sideways, sending the warrior right over me. I jumped to my paws and spun around to face the small, pale-colored she-cat; the name Whitetail flashed through my mind, but this wasn’t a Gathering. Individual warriors don’t matter in a battle.

Only winning matters.

I waited for her to launch herself at me, then dodged away and flicked my front paw into her face. It was kind of like catching a fish—but with a much easier target. ShadowClan cats are like great, hairy boulders compared with a swift flash of trout! Whitetail screeched and staggered back, bleeding from her nose. Blackclaw was waiting for her, and bit her flank so hard that she left a clump of fur in his teeth as she wrenched herself free and fled.

Reedwhisker was wrestling with a ShadowClan tom in a corner—it was you, Snaketail, wasn’t it? You fought well, my old friend, and I’ll admit that Reedwhisker got lucky when you hit your head on that lump of stone and gave him a chance to pin you down. The third ShadowClan cat was a brown tom called Antpelt, who’d threatened me at the previous Gathering just because I scolded his apprentice for being rude to an elder. I don’t mind telling you that I relished the chance to get even with him. Blackclaw and I forced him through a gap in the wall into another den, this one smaller and darker than the first. It was hard to spot his dingy pelt in the shadows, but he gave himself away by squeaking like a kit when something scrabbled in the corner—a rat, by the smell of it. Blackclaw and I pounced on the ShadowClan warrior, and thumped his ears until he dashed to the front entrance, still squealing.

We had captured the Twoleg nest! A jagged wooden slope led up to the rafters of the nest and I ran lightly up, disturbing the thick gray dust with my paws so that motes hung sparkling in the shafts of sunlight that pierced the broken roof. I paced along the nearest length of wood and looked out of a gap beneath the roof. I had a clear view of the Thunderpath in both directions. Blackclaw was right: This place was perfect for an ambush!

Suddenly there was a screech from below. I looked down through the slats of wood and saw my

Clanmates advancing on a cat who seemed to be trying to bury himself in a corner of the nest. It was a ShadowClan warrior, but so streaked with dirt and blood that I couldn’t tell which one.

Dawnflower looked up. “This one was hiding in here like a coward. His Clanmates won’t thank him for leaving them to face us alone. Shall we teach him a lesson?”

The cat stared up at me, his blue eyes huge and pale against his filthy pelt. His mouth opened, but only a tiny hoarse cough came out.

Reedwhisker raised his paw and held it over the cat’s neck. “Shall I finish him?” he offered. “Or do you want to have that pleasure, Pouncetail?”

A broken piece of wood sloped down to a heap of stones at the side of the den below me. I padded down the wood, sinking in my claws to stop myself from sliding onto the heads of my

Clanmates. As I jumped onto the floor, they stepped back from the ShadowClan cat, giving me the honor of claiming this victory. I walked over to the quivering warrior. He was young, perhaps only a moon or two beyond his apprentice days. Beneath the dirt, his fur was gray, and his front paws were black.

“You’re Spiderfoot, aren’t you?” I snarled, recognizing him.

The tom nodded.

“Stand up,” I ordered.

Spiderfoot hauled himself to his feet, stumbling on a piece of stone. I nodded to the sloping piece of wood. “Walk up there.”

Still looking terrified, Spiderfoot jumped over the fallen stones and clawed his way up the beam. I followed.

“Ah,” growled Blackclaw, sounding satisfied. “Going to see if he has wings instead of the courage of a warrior, are you? Good idea.”

Spiderfoot reached the gap underneath the roof and stared at me. “Are you really going to push me off?” he whimpered.

Feeling queasy at his sharp-scented fear, I shook my head. “Not this time.” I twitched my ears toward the jagged slope of wood that led down to the entrance of the nest. “Go back to your Clanmates,” I told him. “And warn them not to underestimate RiverClan warriors again.”