Эрин Хантер - Battles of the Clans

“Whitepaw!” There was a wail from the bottom of the cliff, and I saw my denmate Birchpaw crouching with his back to the stone as a male badger padded toward him. The badger moved slowly, knowing his prey was trapped.

“Climb, Birchpaw!” I yowled. His eyes met mine, huge and dark with terror, and for a moment I thought he had frozen to the spot, but then he turned and began scrabbling at the rock with his front paws.

“Reach higher!” I called, spotting a paw hold a mouse-length above his head. Birchpaw pushed with his hind feet and sank his claws into the dirt lodged in a crevice in the cliff. He hauled himself up, his haunches dangling behind him, and hung from one paw.

“Come on! Climb higher!” I hissed through my teeth, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear me now.

Miraculously, Birchpaw found a place to grip with his hind paws and started to heave himself farther up the wall. But then his front leg twisted and his claws slid out of the crevice, and I watched in horror as my denmate slithered down, down, down, to where the badger waited for him with one paw raised for a killing blow.

“Birchpaw!” I screamed, and shut my eyes, waiting for the final strike.

There was a roar from the badger—not of triumph but of rage. I opened my eyes and saw the creature hunched over a crack at the foot of the cliff. There was a flash of light brown fur against the stone, and I realized that Birchpaw had somehow squeezed himself out of reach. Until the badger’s fury tore apart the stone and it launched itself on Birchpaw…

In three bounds, I reached the badger and crouched down by its haunches. Leap-and-hold . That was the only way I could inflict any real damage. Jump now, while it’s distracted .

“Help!” Birchpaw yowled from his tiny hiding place.

I pressed down with my hind paws and sprang onto the badger, landing with my paws on either side of its spine. I thrust my claws through the dense, bristly fur and kept my weight low as the creature reared up, twisting as it tried to bite me. I wasn’t here just to hang on; I needed to injure it enough to get it away from Birchpaw. Sinking in deeper with my hind claws, I released one front paw and slashed at the badger’s face as it turned toward me. My foot shot through the air and I nearly lost my balance. Clinging on, I tried again, and this time felt a satisfying wrench in my front leg as I made contact with the badger’s cheek and ripped a long wound from the corner of its eye to its jaw.

The creature bellowed in pain and hauled itself away from the foot of the cliff. I saw Birchpaw scramble out. He left a thick trail of blood and his face was swollen, but he was alive. His mother, Ferncloud, raced over to him and sheltered him with her body as they fled around the edge of the hollow.

I clung on to the badger as it plunged and snapped. You tried to kill my friend! I had saved Birchpaw’s life, but there was no time to savor the victory. I sliced again and again with my claws, scoring deep wounds through the badger’s pelt until my paws were tufted with black-and-white fur.

The creature started to sink to its knees and I braced myself, ready to jump free when it tried to roll over and crush me. The badger’s muzzle thudded onto the ground and it let out a long groan as it slumped onto its belly. I stayed crouched on its back, wondering if this was a new trick.

“Whitepaw, get off!” It was Dustpelt, yowling to me from halfway up a hawthorn bush. “You’ve won!”

Dazed, I sprang down to the ground and stared at my enemy. Its eyes were half-closed, and its breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Had I really killed a badger?

Teeth sank into the scruff of my neck and I let out a yelp of fear.

“Get away from it! It’s not dead!” Dustpelt hissed in my ear as he dragged me away. “But you did well to stun it. Come on, stay close.”

He led me to the hawthorn tree and shoved me into the branches. I clung to a swaying twig, catching my breath and gazing out at the hollow. The stone walls were streaked with blood, and the grass was hidden beneath writhing bodies—and ominous furry lumps where cats had fallen and not gotten up again. My legs ached from the effort of holding on to the badger, and my eyes stung from the rancid blood, but I couldn’t stay here. My Clanmates needed me.

I scrambled down the tree and ran out into the clearing. A badger with one ear almost completely torn off lunged toward me; wondering briefly whether that was the badger that had attacked Cloudtail and me at the start, I swerved away and fled toward the barrier—or what remained of the barrier, after the badgers had trampled it down. A shadow fell across me, and I looked up at a narrow black-and-white face. I tried to dodge away, but one of my paws was trapped under a bramble. I flattened myself to the ground and let out a wail.

“StarClan, help me!”

Paws thudded toward me, and Squirrelflight sprang to my side, front paws raised. I waited for her to strike, but there was a pause. Peering up, I saw the she-cat staring in astonishment at the badger that was about to eat me. In a strange, high-pitched voice, she meowed, “It’s okay, Whitepaw. This is Midnight.”

The badger that had told the Clans where to find their new home when they were driven out of the old forest had come to help us—bringing warriors from WindClan, fresh and hungry for victory.

They fought alongside my Clanmates and drove out the badgers, giving them scars to remember us by.

We had won the battle—but at a terrible cost. Rainwhisker, Sootfur, and Cinderpelt all died in the attack.

Every ThunderClan cat was a hero that day. Sometimes I think my pelt still smells of blood, and when I’m hunting alone in the woods, every rustle reminds me of badgers marching against my home. We were saved by our battle skills, and we will use them again if we must.

This story takes place in the old forest, on the border beside the Thunderpath. Our territory ended here, and ShadowClan’s began on the other side. Lionpaw was on a border patrol with his mentor, Swiftbreeze, his denmate Bluepaw, and her mentor, Sunfall, the ThunderClan deputy. The scent of ShadowClan was too strong to be drifting across the Thunderpath on the wind—there was barely a breeze on this cold, gray day in early newleaf. Sunfall had led his patrol close to the edge of the Thunderpath, carefully sniffing each bush for signs of trespassers.

“Well, look what we have here!” came a snarl from the foot of a beech tree. “A patrol of ThunderClan warriors! Ooh, I’m scared now!”

A bright ginger tom stepped forward, still curling his lip, and blocked their way.

Sunfall halted and allowed the fur to rise on his neck. “You’re trespassing, Foxheart,” he growled. “What are you doing on this side of the Thunderpath?”

Foxheart looked back at his Clanmates. “Great StarClan, these warriors ask difficult questions!

What are we doing here, Crowtail?”

A skinny black she-cat put her head to one side, pretending to think. Then she straightened up. “I remember! We’re hunting prey .”

Lionpaw gulped. There was something in the way the she-cat had looked straight at him that made him feel as if her prey were ThunderClan apprentices. He glanced at Swiftbreeze, but she was glaring at the intruders, her tail kinked stiffly over her back.

A small white tom, his face still fringed with fluffy kit fur, padded forward to stand beside

Crowtail. “We’re chasing a rabbit,” he announced. “It came from our territory, which means it’s still ours.”