Эрин Хантер - Battles of the Clans

With each challenge and each blow landed, lives are changed forever.

Before I take you back to Onestar, there is a story to tell from long ago, when there were still five Clans in the forest. ThunderClan and SkyClan argued for many moons over the land on their shared border. So much blood was spilled that Darkstar, the leader of SkyClan, decided to give it to ThunderClan at a Gathering. His Clanmates were horrified, especially his deputy, Raincloud, but Darkstar refused to go back on his word. Each Clan set new border marks the following day, and SkyClan had to watch their rivals feast on prey that had once been theirs.

Seasons passed, and Twolegs began building new nests on SkyClan’s borders. As their territory shrank on one side, their leader, Cloudstar, looked at the hunting grounds that had once belonged to them, and knew that those grounds would give his Clan a chance of survival if Twolegs stole any more of their land. He launched an invasion with his warriors and tried to take back the territory by force. But ThunderClan was expecting this and fought back, hard, and with the strength of full-fed warriors.

Two Clans licked their wounds and told stories to their kits, stories that could not have been more different, on each side of the border…

Clanmates, we won!”

Redstar crossed the clearing in two bounds and leaped onto the Highrock. He gazed down at his Clan circling beneath him, purring and yowling with delight. The scratch on his muzzle, the ache in his hind leg where a SkyClan warrior had crushed it, the patch of fur missing from his flank: None of that mattered now. Victory was better than any herbs at making pain disappear.

Kestrelwing, the ThunderClan medicine cat, stood on tiptoe at the mouth of his den and called, “Any cats with injuries, come see me!”

A few warriors shuffled toward him, but most stayed, sharing their stories with the queens and elders who hadn’t taken part in the battle. One gray tabby was dragged to the ground by a tumble of squeaking kits, who succeeded in flooring him when several SkyClan warriors dropping from trees had failed.

“Tell us about the battle!” the biggest kit begged.

“Were the SkyClan cats superbig and scary?” squealed another.

Nettleclaw shook his head. “No, but they were hungry, and that makes any enemy more dangerous.”

“Not too dangerous for us!” chirped the first kit. “I bet you showed them who’s the best around here!”

Nettleclaw let out a snort of amusement. “I guess we did, little one,” he purred.

Redstar jumped down from Highrock, planning to see Kestrelwing once the first rush for treatment was over. His deputy, Seedpelt, padded up to him.

“Welcome back,” she meowed, her eyes shining. “All was quiet while you were out.”

Redstar nodded. “I thought it would be. SkyClan could barely muster enough warriors to take us on. They wouldn’t have had any to spare to attack the camp. Thanks for staying behind, though. I know you would have liked to have been there.”

“My turn will come,” Seedpelt murmured. “Until then, I am honored to protect the Clan while you are not here.”

A long-legged ginger cat passed them on his way to the fresh-kill pile. He flicked Redstar’s shoulder with his tail as he drew level. “Well fought, old friend,” he purred.

Redstar dipped his head. “Thank you, Amberclaw. You weren’t too shabby yourself. Nice move with the sand-colored she-cat, I thought.”

Redstar’s brother paused. “Yes, she wasn’t expecting me to dodge quite so quickly when she hopped out of that tree, was she? She didn’t seem too happy about getting up afterward.”

“Stupid furballs,” Seedpelt snorted. “I don’t know why they insist on flinging themselves out of trees all the time. Don’t they realize we can see them up there, heaving about like great lumps of fluff?”

“Excuse me, Redstar, but are you going to stand there bleeding or would you like some cobweb on that wound?”

Kestrelwing was hovering at Redstar’s shoulder with a pawful of white stuff. He patted it fussily against the leader’s muzzle, making him sneeze.

“Enough!” Redstar ordered, shaking sticky strands out of his eyes. “See to the others first.”

Kestrelwing pattered away, muttering, “Oh, yes, because Clan leaders have blood to spare, don’t they?”

Gradually, the clearing quieted. The sky above the trees faded to pink, then gray, but the cats showed no inclination of going to bed. Warriors sat in groups, discussing the battle, reviewing what they had done well and moves that needed practice. Redstar joined them, praising and consoling, pointing out that whatever had happened, ThunderClan had won, and nothing else mattered.

Kestrelwing met him as he was heading for his den.

“Have you seen the sky?” the medicine cat prompted. His eyes were shadowed with tiredness from treating all the injured warriors, but there was a gleam in them that spoke of more than a single victory.

Redstar looked up. The night sky was almost impossible to see behind the swath of sparkling stars. Silverpelt glowed brighter than a full moon, and the wind was full of the whispers of his ancestors, calling his name.

“StarClan approves, doesn’t it?” he whispered to Kestrelwing.

The gray cat nodded. “You won this battle with the blessing of our ancestors,” he agreed. “You are a hero in the stars already.”

Redstar felt a warm glow of pride—and relief, too. “Then this means that the territory we fought over today belongs to ThunderClan by right. Darkstar’s word stands, now and forever. It will never be given up!”

Clanmates, we lost.”

Cloudstar padded into the center of the camp, his head hanging with more than weariness. Every scrape on his pelt burned like fire, and his paws were numb from leaping onto the hard, dusty ground.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

Birdflight trotted up to him, her swollen belly rolling with each stride, her amber eyes dark with concern. “You…you lost ? But you said we had to win this battle!”

“Yes, we had to, but we didn’t!” Cloudstar snarled. Then he took a step back. “I’m sorry.

You’re right; we should have won. We need that piece of territory to feed us.”

His deputy, Buzzardtail, limped past, his tail dragging in the dirt. “Go straight to Fawnstep,” Cloudstar ordered.

All around the clearing, queens and elders huddled around the returning warriors. They spoke so quietly, Cloudstar could hear a thrush warbling somewhere in the territory. Brave, foolish bird , he thought. If you stay here, you’ll be prey tomorrow . There were so few birds left, he wondered if he should send a warrior now to catch it. But every cat fit enough to hunt had fought in the battle, and all had come back with injuries, from ripped ears to a broken leg, in Mousefang’s case. That fox-hearted ThunderClan cat had jumped out of the way just as she dropped from the branch above him—StarClan knew how he’d heard her above the noise of the battle.

Maybe StarClan did know. But they weren’t telling him. Cloudstar wondered if his warrior ancestors had even been watching today. It certainly hadn’t felt as if they were on his side.

Birdflight nudged him gently. “You need to get that cut on your flank seen to,” she prompted.

“Not yet,” Cloudstar replied. “I must speak to the Clan first, tell them that we’re not giving up after one defeat.”