Эрин Хантер - Battles of the Clans

He clawed his way up to the branch in the gnarled thorn tree where he addressed his Clanmates.

The branch seemed higher than usual, and his hind leg exploded with pain when he tried to push himself up. Once, he could stare into the trees from here and only guess where his territory ended.

Now the half-built Twoleg nests loomed beyond the thin screen of branches, red and hard and threatening. They had swallowed up almost half of SkyClan’s territory already. When would they stop?

A cough below him brought his attention back to his Clanmates, who had gathered under the tree.

The cats who had fought alongside him wore empty, defeated expressions; the only signs of hope were in the eyes of the cats who had stayed behind, the queens and the elders. Cloudstar hadn’t left a single warrior to defend the camp, praying that ThunderClan had no interest in launching a separate attack. His hunch had paid off; he told himself that the losses could have been worse.

“Cats of SkyClan!” He made himself stand straight and tall on his branch, and tried to sound like a leader whose courage hadn’t wavered with this defeat. “The reason we lost today is that ThunderClan fought harder and better. They wanted victory more than we did.”

There were a few looks of surprise from his exhausted warriors, but others nodded and twitched their tails, as if they were feeling guilty for letting their Clanmates down. Something stabbed deep inside Cloudstar’s heart—he knew his warriors had given everything they could, but they were outnumbered, hungry, and exhausted from too many fruitless hunting patrols. Yet he had to appeal to their sense of loyalty and honor to keep them fighting for their Clanmates.

“I don’t blame any of you. All I ask is that you look at what you did today, and see if you could have done any more. If the answer is yes, then there will be other battles, other chances to prove what it means to be a SkyClan warrior.”

Already the cats below him were lifting their heads, summoning up the remnants of their battered pride and thinking ahead to future wars.

Cloudstar finished: “SkyClan will take back what is rightfully ours. We will seize that territory from those ThunderClan thieves!”

A few reedy cheers rose from the listening cats. Cloudstar let out a sigh of relief. He had not lost his warriors’ faith. Sometimes it felt as if that were all that was left of his leadership. He lowered himself carefully down the trunk and limped to Fawnstep’s den. He needed cobwebs, marigold, comfrey to ease his bruises—but not poppy seed. He would not take the coward’s escape into sleep tonight. Instead, he would lie awake and figure out a better way to attack ThunderClan, a different strategy that would give his warriors the advantage from the beginning.

“Cloudstar! Cloudstar, wake up!”

A wet muzzle was thrust into Cloudstar’s ear. Grunting, he swatted it aside and sat up. Through the branches of his den, he could see the sky turning milky with dawn, but it was dark enough that the stars still glittered overhead. Are you still watching, StarClan?

Any words of wisdom now?

“Cloudstar, I have to talk to you!”

A blast of hot, herb-scented breath revealed that the intruder in Cloudstar’s den was Fawnstep, the medicine cat.

“What is it?” Cloudstar growled. “Is Birdflight having her kits?” He jumped up, suddenly wide-awake. “Is she all right? Do you need me to fetch herbs?”

“Sit down,” hissed Fawnstep. “Or you’ll wake every cat in the Clan. Birdflight is fine. Her kits will be here in the next quarter moon, but not tonight. She’s sleeping peacefully in the nursery.”

She shuffled farther into the den and sat down. Her pale brown fur was just visible against the leaves, and her eyes gleamed when she turned her head toward him.

“I’ve had a dream,” she began. Her voice was higher-pitched than usual, and Cloudstar recognized another scent beneath the herb-dust clinging to her pelt: fear.

“I’m sure StarClan was showing me the future. Not far off—Birdflight was there with your kits, and they were still very small.”

“But strong?” Cloudstar interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with them, is there?”

Fawnstep shook her head. “No, your kits looked… healthy.”

Cloudstar didn’t like the way she had paused, but he let her go on.

The medicine cat took a deep breath. “SkyClan was leaving the forest. I…I think we were at a

Gathering. The other Clans were there. They were watching us go.”

“What? That’s absurd!” Cloudstar lashed his tail. “This is our territory!”

Fawnstep gazed at him, and Cloudstar winced at the sorrow in her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she meowed gently. “There was no territory left. Not for us. The Twolegs had taken it all, and we had nowhere else to go.”

A crack opened in Cloudstar’s heart, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t feel surprise, just sadness, and shame that he couldn’t have saved his Clan. Was this how his leadership would end? With SkyClan destroyed, hounded out of the forest like a mangy fox?

Fawnstep rested her tail on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cloudstar. You should not have lost that battle. It is a defeat that we cannot survive.”

Hello, kittypets? Ah, there you are. I wondered where you’d gone. Did you get lost in these bushes?

The island’s bigger than it looks from the shore, isn’t it? Follow me back to the clearing. We’re leaving now. We’ll take you as far as our border; then you must go home. You can find your way on your own, can’t you? Good.

Did you learn everything you wanted to know about battles? I’ve heard some stories tonight that were new to me, I must say. What was Cedarheart talking about? There are rumors that he knows more about the history of the Clans than any other cat, but he’s never shared anything with me.

Battle is not always the answer, but it is part of our heritage, the legacy passed to us by our warrior ancestors, as well as the path to our future. Some questions can only lead to conflict; all challenges deserve a brave, carefully planned response. As long as we fight with honor, courage, and respect for our enemies, the legacy of battle deserves to survive. We will continue to pass on our skills to the new apprentices, then watch as they train the next generation. Heroes will be celebrated, the losing side condemned to dust in our memories. This is what it means to be a warrior: to be proud of our legacy, of the battles that we have fought and that our ancestors fought on our behalf.

For as long as the fire burns in our blood, warrior Clans will fight.

Turn the page to play…

Visit www.warriorcats.com to download game rules, character sheets, a practice mission, and more!

Written by Stan! • Art by James L. Barry

THE DELUGE

Whatever the previous adventure you played, consider that three moons have passed since then.

Determine what age that makes all of the cat characters (including one belonging to the person who will take the first turn as Narrator) and use the information found in the “Improving Your Cat” section of Chapter Four in the game rules to make the necessary improvements.

Unless you are the first person who will act as Narrator in this adventure, you should stop reading here. The information beginning in the next paragraph is for the Narrator only.