Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

Pinestar was shocked. “Aren’t you worried about them?”

“Why should I be?” Shanty shrugged. “If they have found housefolk like mine, then I know they are safe and happy.”

“But… but aren’t you bored?” Pinestar blurted out. All the questions he had wanted to ask Jake came tumbling out. “What do you do all day? You don’t have to patrol your territory, or catch your food, or train any apprentices, or practice for battle…”

Shanty stared at him, her amber eyes huge. “Why would I want to live like that? You make it sound as if every day is a struggle to survive.” She gestured around her with her tail. “There is no cat here that I want to fight. I don’t want to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I am not a prisoner in my territory; I can visit my friends, just as they can visit me.” She sniffed. “Some are more welcome than others, but Quince is okay when she hasn’t got a tom hanging around her.”

Pinestar lifted his muzzle. “What do you do to earn this life? Where is your loyalty, your courage, your honor? How do you know if you have lived your life well if you cannot judge it against the warrior code?” His fur prickled, and he heard a note of desperation in his voice. Do I want Shanty to prove to me that my life is worth more than hers?

The brown she-cat blinked. “I have loyalty and honor too. Look around you, Pinestar. What is keeping me here? I could climb that fence and be gone in a heartbeat. But I love my housefolk. I honor them. They feed me and care for me because they value me. They enjoy my company, they want to keep me safe, and they are afraid if I go away for too long.” She stood up and glared at him, as fierce as any warrior. “Isn’t this the same way you feel about your Clanmates, Pinestar? Just because I don’t look the same as my housefolk, don’t speak with the same words or eat the same food, doesn’t mean that we are not a Clan too. They are not my enemies. Not everything is predator or prey!”

She sat down, panting. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I think you hit a nerve.”

Pinestar reached out with his tail and stroked her flank. “I’m the one who should say sorry,” he mewed. “When I became leader of ThunderClan, a cat named Oakstar gave me a life for judgment. I should have learned to use it more wisely by now.”

Shanty looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. Pinestar rested his muzzle on the top of her head. “I judged you too quickly,” he explained. “You and all the kittypets. Forgive me.”

He felt the she-cat’s purr, rumbling through his body like far-off thunder. “You’re all right,” Shanty meowed. “I always heard wild cats were a bit dumb.”

Pinestar grunted. “But our claws are still sharper than yours!” he teased. He closed his eyes and shifted his weight so that he was lying beside Shanty. Patchy sunlight warmed his fur, and the scent of ferns filled his nose as he drifted into sleep.

Pinestar stood beneath Fourtrees, looking around. The hollow was empty and above, the sky was spattered with stars but no full moon. This wasn’t a Gathering, so what had brought him here?

“I did,” mewed a voice. A fawn-and-white she-cat stepped out from behind the Great Rock.

“Doestar!” Pinestar gasped. He trotted to meet his former leader, rubbing his head along her cheek.

Doestar stepped back and studied him. “Your time as leader hasn’t been easy,” she commented, nodding to the scars on his muzzle. “I am sorry I could not leave ThunderClan in peace.”

Pinestar twitched the tip of his tail. “None of the battles were your fault. This is a difficult time for all the Clans. If RiverClan would give up its claim to Sunningrocks, everything would be easier.”

“For cats who can swim, a river is no kind of boundary,” Doestar pointed out. “Your battle for those rocks is not over yet.”

“And lose more lives for the sake of warming our pelts on a heap of stones?” Pinestar growled. “I can’t wait.”

The she-cat blinked. “Those are not the words of a warrior. Where is your pride, Pinestar? Your promise to keep the boundaries of our territory safe?”

Pinestar flattened his ears. “I have not forgotten,” he mewed. “I will do everything to defend our Clan, of course.”

Doestar paced around him. “You will have even more reason to protect your Clan soon.” Her amber eyes gleamed in the starlight. “You are going to be a father. Leopardfoot is expecting your kits!”

“What?” Pinestar stared at her. “Are you sure?”

The she-cat nodded. Then her gaze darkened. “But you must be careful, Pinestar. One of your kits, a tom, has a shadow over his destiny.”

“What do you mean?” Pinestar demanded, letting his claws slide out and prick the earth. “What kind of shadow?”

Doestar turned away. “The worst kind,” she murmured. “He will be born with the power to destroy ThunderClan.”

“You can’t possibly know that! One kit, against a whole Clan? Don’t be ridiculous!” His heart was beating faster and his fur stood on end. What threat could one tiny cat offer to a Clan full of warriors?

The StarClan cat faced him again. “Listen to me, Pinestar. No cat knows your son’s destiny yet; only the possibilities he will be born with. It is up to you to teach him honor, loyalty, compassion—everything given to you for your nine lives. This cat will have the power to be a great leader, if you guide his paw steps well.”

Pinestar opened his mouth to ask more questions, but the starlight in Doestar’s fur was dazzling him and he screwed up his eyes against the brightness. Something was digging into his back. Was it the Great Rock?

“Wake up, Pinestar. You’re having a bad dream.”

Shanty was prodding him in the ribs. Pinestar opened his eyes to see her anxious brown face against pale green fern fronds.

“I have to go back to my Clan,” he mewed, sitting up. “I… I shouldn’t be here.”

Shanty looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Pinestar scrambled to his paws. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered. His pelt burned with shame and anger. Couldn’t he escape his duties for just one day?

Before he could race off, Shanty pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Come back anytime,” she mewed. “You will always be welcome here, friend.”

Pinestar started running across the grass. The peace he had found with Shanty had been shattered. The needs of his Clan were dragging him back to the forest, back to blood and conflict and the desperate struggle to survive. And now there was a new threat, one he had created himself, which he already felt powerless to stop.

How am I going to protect my Clan from an unborn kit?

Pinestar padded through the bracken, ignoring a brittle frond that tickled his ear. He had taken to pushing through the thickest undergrowth on his way to and from Twolegplace, avoiding the tiny paths where he might encounter a border or hunting patrol. A quarter moon ago, Lionpaw had seen him talking to Jake’s housefolk and Pinestar had lied to explain himself, telling the apprentice that he had only pretended to befriend the Twoleg in order to find out more about the kittypets.

Pinestar’s fur prickled. He couldn’t let his Clanmates find out about his friends outside the territory. They would never understand that it was cats like Jake and Shanty who kept him calm and focused, who listened to fears he couldn’t share with his warriors.

Today, Shanty had reassured him that he was doing the right thing by holding back from yet another attack on RiverClan, even though the mangy fish-eaters had set their border marks around Sunningrocks again. Pinestar knew his warriors were unhappy, and were waiting for him to give the command to attack their neighbors. Shanty had agreed that he couldn’t risk injuries or death so close to leaf-fall, when the warriors should be concentrating on hunting and building up their strength for the cold weather. She shrugged off Pinestar’s fear that his Clanmates thought he was too fox-hearted to defend their territory.