Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

The clearing fell silent as cats headed out for patrols or training, or to take advantage of the cool forest while the sun was at its height. Pinestar stood up and walked over to the entrance. No cat called after him to ask where he was going, or whether he had any orders. He ducked through the gorse tunnel, raced up the side of the ravine, and plunged into the trees. He took a less direct route so that he avoided a hunting patrol led by Sunfall, entering treecutplace close to the Thunderpath instead. He trotted through the long grass at the foot of the wooden fence, enjoying the feeling of cool stalks brushing his belly fur.

When he drew level with a stunted pine tree that had a broken branch trailing on the ground, he scrambled up the fence and dropped down on the other side. There were no kittypets living here, but Pinestar had seen a pink-faced Twoleg watching him through one of the openings in the side of the den. He crossed the grass in two bounds, then leaped over the wall and ran along a narrow stone path. Nothing about this place resembled his home in the forest—not the scents in the air, the hard red dens, the rumble of monsters and shriek of young Twolegs—and yet it felt safe and familiar to Pinestar now. He avoided kittypets he hadn’t met yet, and he knew which dens had noisy dogs, but there was nothing here that frightened him. Monsters weren’t interested in him as long as he stayed out of their way; even Twolegs ignored him, except for the time he had stopped to make dirt beneath a bush and been chased off with a low yowl and waving pink paws.

He crossed over an empty Thunderpath and headed for a low, glossy-leaved hedge. As he passed, a small brown head popped out. “Pinestar!”

He stopped and looked back. “Hello, Shanty. Is this where you live?”

Shanty stepped out of the hedge. “Yes. Would you like to come and look around?”

Pinestar glanced along the Thunderpath. “I was on my way to see Jake.”

“He’s mooning over Quince today.” Shanty tipped her head on one side. “She lives by the main road. Have you met her?”

Pinestar shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m sure you’d like her,” Shanty mewed dryly. “All the toms seem to.” She turned back to the hedge.

“Wait!” Pinestar called. “I… I’d love to see where you live, if that’s okay.”

He squeezed into the hedge behind her and wriggled through the branches. The grass surrounding this den was soft and short and dazzlingly green like the rest of the grass in Twolegplace. There was a small round pool in the middle of the space with a spray of water splashing into it. Shanty beckoned to Pinestar with her tail and trotted over to the edge of the pool.

Following more cautiously so that he dodged the flying droplets, Pinestar crouched down and peered in. Two bright orange shapes glided just below the surface.

“Fish!” Pinestar exclaimed. “Can you catch them?”

Shanty shook her head. “I tried once, but I fell in. My housefolk had to rescue me.”

Pinestar reached out with one paw and dabbed at the water. With a flash of gold, the fish vanished among some thick green plants. “You need to make sure RiverClan doesn’t find these,” Pinestar joked.

But Shanty was already trotting away toward the side of the Twoleg den. Pinestar ran after her, his wet paw cool against the grass. They plunged into a welcome stretch of shade, then out into the sun again behind the den. The grass here stretched farther, still short and soft and bright, bright green. A clump of silver birch trees stood at the far end, casting dappled shade onto a heap of logs with ferns growing over them. Pinestar padded over and sniffed at the cool fronds.

Behind him, Shanty mewed, “I don’t like it over here. It’s too cold.”

Pinestar arched his back and brushed against one of the drooping ferns. “I think it’s peaceful,” he murmured. He could hear a faint monster grumbling far away, and two sparrows quarreling on the other side of the fence that surrounded Shanty’s territory. But the ferns blotted out most of the sound, and the birch leaves rustled in the breeze, reminding Pinestar of the forest.

There was a noise close by and Pinestar jumped. An opening had appeared in the side of the den and a Twoleg was coming out. Pinestar shrank back against the logs. Had it spotted him? Shanty ran across the grass and stretched up to rub her head against the Twoleg’s front paw. Pinestar forced his pelt to lie flat. This must be one of her housefolk. From the tone of the Twoleg’s voice, he was pretty sure it was a female. She had brown skin and black fur on her head, and although her white teeth were bared, she was making soothing sounds.

Shanty called to Pinestar, “Come on over. I think she’ll like you.”

Pinestar took two steps toward the Twoleg, then stopped. He could feel his heart pounding, and his mouth felt dry. The Twoleg stopped petting Shanty and crouched down on its haunches, staring at Pinestar. Now he could see that her eyes were a shade darker than her skin, and her long straight fur was as glossy as a RiverClan pelt. She reached her front paw toward Pinestar and made a noise a bit like a dove, low and cooing.

Pinestar took another step. He kept his ears pricked and his tail low. He was a ThunderClan warrior; he didn’t want to frighten the Twoleg into running away. Which one of us is the most scared? he wondered.

Shanty bounced on her paws. “Let her stroke you!” she mewed. “She won’t hurt you, I promise!”

Suddenly the Twoleg was right in front of him and Pinestar froze. He felt a warm, naked paw rest on his head. With a hiss, he ducked away. Too close!

Shanty twitched her tail. “I thought warriors were braver than that!”

The Twoleg leaned toward him again, making more cooing sounds. Pinestar forced himself to stay still. The Twoleg put her paw lightly on his head and brushed it along his fur, all the way to his tail. Pinestar blinked. It felt odd, but not unpleasant, like a very large, dry tongue licking him. The Twoleg stroked him again, then tickled him under his chin. Pinestar stepped away. That wasn’t so pleasant, and made him feel too vulnerable.

Shanty came over and stood beside him, her flank warm and fluffy against his pelt. “You’re being really brave,” she purred, with a hint of teasing in her voice. “She’s nice, isn’t she?”

The Twoleg stood up suddenly and Pinestar leaped backward. There was a low, gruff sound and another Twoleg appeared in the entrance to the den. This one was taller, with darker skin and a more powerful scent. Pinestar guessed it was a male. The female Twoleg pointed at Pinestar and yowled something. Pinestar flattened his ears. The territory was starting to feel small and crowded.

Shanty nudged him. “It’s okay. That’s my other housefolk. He can be a bit loud but he’s safe, I promise.”

Pinestar backed toward the ferns. “I think I’ve made enough new friends today,” he mewed, trying to sound light-hearted.

Shanty nodded. “I’m impressed.” Pinestar glanced at her, but she sounded sincere. “I wouldn’t go into the forest and hang out with the wild cats,” she went on.

“You’d be safe if you were with me,” Pinestar mewed, though in his mind he couldn’t begin to imagine a time when he would introduce Shanty to his Clanmates. “You can trust my warriors.”

“And you can trust my housefolk,” Shanty replied. They had reached the ferns and were sitting at the foot of a sun-warmed log, their pelts lightly dappled with shade. “All my life, they have treated me kindly, fed me, sheltered me, given me space to play in.”

“Did your mother live with them?” Pinestar asked.

“No. I was born somewhere else, but I can’t really remember anything about it. I know I had littermates, but I don’t know where they are now.”