Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

“Ha!” jeered Pinepaw. “Can’t catch me!”

The ginger-and-white cat looked at him with cool blue eyes. “And you did what, exactly, to save yourself?” she meowed. “You would have been fed to those cubs if I hadn’t turned up in time.”

“You don’t know that,” Pinepaw argued, feeling his fur grow hot. “I’m a ThunderClan warrior! I know how to fight!”

“You should also know not to come between a fox and her cubs,” mewed the she-cat. “Clearly they aren’t training warriors properly these days.”

“Are you from another Clan?” Pinepaw asked, staring at her glossy fur.

The she-cat rolled her eyes. “What, and chase prey all over the place to catch my dinner every day? Don’t be ridiculous. I live here.” She nodded to the Twoleg den behind them.

Pinepaw gaped. “You’re… you’re a kittypet ! But kittypets don’t know how to fight!”

The she-cat blinked. “You might have noticed that I didn’t fight that fox. I just scared it long enough to let you get away. We’re not all cowards, you know.” She stood up and kinked her tail over her back. “Especially if we have kits. Like that fox, we’d do anything to protect our young.” She padded lightly along the top of the fence. “Now, go back to your territory, and stay away from foxes! I won’t always be here to save you.”

She jumped down onto the bright green square of grass below the fence. Without looking back, she trotted to the Twoleg den and vanished through a little gap in the wall. Pinepaw studied the stretch of ground between the fence and the trees. There was no sign of the mother fox; he guessed it had gone into its den under the fallen tree. He leaped down, holding his breath when the fence rattled under his hind paws. He crouched in the long grass for a moment, but there was no movement, no fresh fox scent carried to him on the breeze, so he darted across the open ground to the safety of the pine trees.

His second encounter with a kittypet had been even more startling than the first. And much as he hated to admit it—and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Mistpelt or his denmates what had happened—he owed his life to that bold she-cat. Too late, he realized he hadn’t thanked her. And I’ll probably never see her again, he thought as he trotted through the trees toward the sound of his patrol.

Pinepaw clenched his teeth and tried not to gag as he dabbed the moss soaked in mouse bile onto Seedpelt’s gray pelt. The stench made Pinepaw’s eyes water, but the elder didn’t seem to notice. Seedpelt grunted as the bile sank into the skin around the fat tick on her belly, and wriggled farther onto her back so that Pinepaw could apply the moss again.

Pinepaw wondered how long he could hold his breath before he keeled over. He couldn’t believe he had been an apprentice for nearly six moons, yet he still had to do the most disgusting jobs. If only there were younger apprentices to take over tick duties! He pressed down a little harder, and with the faintest pop, the tick jerked free from Seedpelt’s skin. Pinepaw knocked it to the ground and squashed it firmly.

“Thanks,” Seedpelt mewed, sitting up and licking the speck of blood left behind on her belly. “That feels much better.”

Pinepaw scooped up the moss with the dead tick inside it and headed toward the dirtplace tunnel. He was almost among the brambles when there was a thud of paws behind him as several cats burst into the clearing. Pinepaw dropped the bundle of moss and whirled around.

Mumblefoot stood in the center of the camp, his thick-furred brown flanks heaving. The rest of the border patrol crowded behind him, all breathless. “Kittypets!” Mumblefoot burst out.

Several cats around the clearing jumped to their paws. “Where? Here? Are we being attacked?”

Oakstar and Doefeather emerged from the leader’s den beneath Highrock. “What’s going on?” Oakstar demanded.

“Not here,” Mumblefoot panted. “But inside our territory, on this side of the fence.”

“I picked up their scent under the pine trees,” Windflight put in. “Farther in than they’ve ever come before.”

“They could be planning an invasion!” Hollypelt meowed, her black fur fluffed up and speckled with bits of fern from her race through the forest.

Littlepaw and Daisypaw joined Pinepaw. “Do you think kittypets would really be dumb enough to attack us?” whispered Littlepaw.

“I wish they would!” mewed Daisypaw, unsheathing her front claws. “I’d love to show them just how hard we fight!”

“I don’t think we’re in any great danger,” Oakstar meowed. “But we do need to remind those furballs that they aren’t welcome in our territory. It’s a sign that they’re getting much too bold if they’re coming all the way into treecutplace.” He looked around the clearing. “I think we should send a patrol into Twolegplace tonight to show them that we won’t tolerate this. What do you think, Doefeather?”

The Clan deputy nodded. “That’s an excellent idea.” She gestured with her tail to warriors dotted around the clearing. “I’ll lead it, and I want Rooktail, Harepounce, Mistpelt, and Squirrelwhisker to join me. We’ll take our apprentices, too.”

“What about me?” called Flashpaw. “You didn’t choose Nettlebreeze.”

“I think my days of chasing around Twolegplace are over,” grunted his mentor. “But you can join the patrol if you wish.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Rooktail offered, and Nettlebreeze nodded his thanks.

“We’ll leave at sunset,” Doefeather decided. “Warriors, take something from the fresh-kill pile and get some rest. Those of you who won’t be coming with me, please take over hunting duties for the rest of the day.”

There were quiet murmurs as the cats dispersed around the camp. Pinepaw joined the other apprentices at the end of the queue for the fresh-kill pile, behind the warriors.

“I’m too excited to eat!” Daisypaw confessed.

“But we’ll need our strength,” Littlepaw pointed out solemnly.

Pinepaw said nothing. He was eager to go over the fence and explore Twolegplace, but he wasn’t convinced that the kittypets were such a terrible threat. If they were really as lazy and well fed as his Clanmates said, surely they weren’t interested in stealing ThunderClan’s prey? And he couldn’t believe they’d find their way right to the camp, hidden in the ravine among bushes and trees.

Then he thought of the fierce kittypet who had chased away the fox all those moons ago, and he reminded himself that he shouldn’t underestimate any cat, not even those who lived with Twolegs.

The patrol set out toward Sunningrocks as the last rays of sun glowed above the trees. A three-quarter moon was already high in the pale sky, ready to cast enough silver light for the warriors to see clearly once they were outside familiar territory. Pinepaw felt his heart race as he pushed through the gorse with his denmates and scampered up to the top of the ravine. What would be waiting for them in Twolegplace?

“We’re not out to cause damage,” Doefeather warned over her shoulder as she led them at a brisk walk through the ferns. “Our plan is to find as many kittypets as we can and give them a good scare—claw their fur if they fight back, but there’s no need to shed blood unnecessarily. They just need to learn to respect the Clan cats, and stay out of our territory!”

The warriors around her nodded. “I’m happy to teach them a lesson they won’t forget,” muttered Harepounce, her light brown fur turning pale gray in the dusk.