Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

Then Doestar stepped back, and another cat approached. Pineheart felt his heart lift with joy at the sight of the broad-shouldered, glossy brown tom. Oakstar purred loudly. “I always knew you would be leader one day,” he meowed. “I give you a life for judgment, for knowing which path to follow, however hard it seems.” This time the force was sharper, more painful, stiffening Pineheart’s limbs and making him yelp. Then it passed, and his legs stopped trembling.

He was overjoyed to see his former Clanmates Hollypelt, Harepounce, and Stagleap once more. “We miss you so much!” he blurted out.

The StarClan cats nodded, their eyes filled with stars. They gave him lives for courage and loyalty, for knowing when to fight and when to choose peace.

Next came Pearnose, an ancient ThunderClan medicine cat. His life was dedicated to trusting the wisdom of the leader’s closest companion in protecting his Clanmates; Pineheart glanced at Goosefeather, watching from the trees, and nodded.

Two more lives came from cats so old that they were almost invisible against the soft green grass. A dark brown she-cat, Hawkfoot of WindClan, gave Pineheart the strength of a nursing queen when defending her young. As this life burned through his limbs, Pineheart thought of the kittypet in Twolegplace who had been ready to face all the warriors from the forest to protect her babies. Then an orange cat with huge paws and amber eyes approached.

“I am Thunderstar,” he murmured, so quietly that Pineheart could hardly hear. “Every leader faces difficult choices. And yours will be the most difficult of all. Know that whatever decision you make, you will have to carry it for the rest of your life. If you can do that, then it will be the right one.”

This life was different from the others, churning, toppling, dizzying, so that Pineheart felt as if he was being tumbled over and over, suspended in the air. When he felt his paws firmly on the ground again, he opened his eyes.

A long-legged gray tom with pale blue eyes stood in front of him. “My name is Morningstar,” he rasped. “I give you a life for compassion for weaker cats, in your own Clan and others. Now go back to your Clan, Pinestar. Lead them well.”

The ninth life blazed through Pinestar like icy fire, leaving him clearheaded and strangely calm. He looked around. The clearing was empty apart from Goosefeather, who was watching him closely.

“I received my nine lives!” Pinestar whispered.

The medicine cat said nothing. Pinestar felt a sudden longing to ask Goosefeather what his vision had been: Was ThunderClan going to rule the forest once more after the great hunger? What battles lay ahead, and which could be avoided? But Goosefeather was already walking away into the shadows beneath the trees, and Pinestar could do nothing more but hurry to catch up.

“You don’t have to go out on patrol now that you’re our leader,” teased a soft voice.

Pinestar paused just before entering the tunnel of gorse. Squirrelwhisker was lying outside the elders’ den, warming her belly fur in the sun.

“Mumblefoot sent out two hunting patrols, and the border patrol has only just returned,” she went on. “Do you think they might have missed something?”

Pinestar shook his head. “I just felt like stretching my legs, that’s all.” He had been leader for less than a quarter-moon and already he was feeling restless. He had less to do now than when he had been a warrior! Mumblefoot was proving an excellent choice as deputy, in spite of a few muttered comments about his age. Pinestar trusted him completely to organize the different patrols and duties, and he was well respected by the other cats. Pinestar knew he could join in with a patrol if he wanted, but he didn’t want his warriors to think he was interfering or trying to take on too many responsibilities at once.

“You’re welcome to come with me, Squirrelwhisker,” he meowed, but the elder shook her head.

“I was a warrior only a few sunrises ago,” she pointed out. “Let me enjoy the chance to lie in the sun, knowing that some other cat will catch my food!”

Pinestar purred with amusement and ducked into the gorse. He leaped up the ravine and plunged into the forest, losing himself to the scents of new growth and prey and soft, damp earth. New-leaf had fallen upon the forest almost overnight, and it was becoming hard to remember the empty, hungry days.

The sound of a patrol by Snakerocks prompted Pinestar to swerve toward the treecutplace. He didn’t want to be disturbed, not yet. He trotted over the needle-strewn earth below the pine trees and emerged from the trees into slanting rays of sunlight. The long wooden fence that edged Twolegplace felt warm as Pinestar settled himself against it, ready for a doze in blissful quiet before heading back to the camp.

He was just drifting off when the fence behind him rattled, and there was a sound of scrabbling paws above his head. He opened one eye and looked up to see a ginger cat staring down at him.

“What are you doing down there?” mewed the tom.

“Trying to sleep,” grunted Pinestar.

The fence creaked against his back as the cat jumped down into the long grass. Pinestar sat up.

“Are you one of the wild cats?” asked the tom. His fur was thick and shiny, striped in several shades of orange, and his eyes were a startling light green. In fact, there was something about them that stirred one of Pinestar’s long-forgotten memories.

“I’m from ThunderClan, yes,” mewed Pinestar. He decided not to mention that he was the leader of the Clan. He had a feeling this kittypet wouldn’t be impressed. Though his mother might be…

The tom was studying him closely with his head tilted to one side. “I think I’ve seen you before,” he announced at last.

“You’re right.” Pinestar was astonished that the cat remembered him, since he couldn’t have been more than a half-moon old when they met. “You were with your mother when ThunderClan came into Twolegplace.”

The kittypet wrinkled his nose. “What’s Twolegplace?”

Pinestar nodded toward the fence. “Over there, where you live.”

“That’s weird.” The tom rubbed his nose with a paw where a long strand of grass had tickled him. Then he looked at Pinestar, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “How come you’re talking to me? Are you supposed to chase me back over the fence and claw my ears to frighten me? That’s what the other cats say you do.”

Pinestar couldn’t help feeling a glow of pride at his Clanmates’ fearsome reputation. “I don’t think you are a threat to ThunderClan,” he meowed.

The young cat looked indignant. “I could be! You don’t know how good I am at catching mice and birds and squirrels!”

“Well, are you? Good at catching mice?”

The kittypet sat down with a thump. “Not really. But I did scare some rabbits once! They were inside a cage, and I sat on top of it all day until I got hungry. Then I had to go home.”

Pinestar tried to hide his amused purr at the thought of getting hungry within paw’s reach of some rabbits.

“My name’s Jake,” the kittypet mewed. He stood up and bobbed his head.

“I’m Pinestar,” replied Pinestar.

“Cool name,” purred Jake. “My mother is named Crystal, and my littermates are Ferris and Whiskers, but I don’t know where they live now.”

“I remember your mother well,” meowed Pinestar. “She saved my life once, did you know that?”

“Really? How?” Jake’s eyes stretched wide.

“I got between a mother fox and her cubs when I was just an apprentice. Your mother scared the fox just enough for me to get away.”

“She’s really brave,” Jake mewed proudly. “She doesn’t see so well now, and she has to eat special food which tastes disgusting. But she still scratches the dog if it gets too close!”