Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

Owl Eyes, Clover, and Leaf trooped through the gorse tunnel, looking soaked and grumpy. A ragged vole dangled from Owl Eyes’s mouth and a skinny shrew from Leaf’s. Clover was limping.

“That’s all you caught?” Thunderstar mewed as they came closer.

Leaf dropped the shrew and pushed it toward the kits. “It’s been raining so long all the prey scents are washed away. We were lucky to find these.”

Clover winced. “Cloud Spots, can you look at my leg? I slipped in the mud and I think I might have sprained it.” The medicine cat nodded and went over to feel gently along her hind leg.

“You’d better come to my den,” he told her. “Shivering Rose, come help me. You can practice treating sprains.”

“Can we eat the shrew, Milkweed?” asked Patch Pelt eagerly as the rest of the Clan watched the medicine cats help Clover toward their den.

Milkweed hesitated, glancing at Violet Dawn.

“They can have it,” Violet Dawn said firmly. “Kits need to eat.”

Thunderstar managed to keep himself from objecting, but it wasn’t easy. They needed more prey.

“You should have the vole,” Owl Eyes said, dropping it in front of Violet Dawn.

“Thank you,” Violet Dawn said, and then nudged Milkweed. “We’ll share it. Your kits need you to be strong as well.”

Thunderstar looked around. The rest of the Clan watched, looking a little mournful, as the two she-cats devoured the small vole in just a few bites. He couldn’t let them all go hungry. His heart began to beat faster: He was responsible for all of them. And his kits would need a strong Clan.

“I’m taking out another hunting party now,” he decided. “We need more prey.”

Owl Eyes and Leaf exchanged glances, taken aback. “The hunting’s terrible,” Owl Eyes said. “The prey’s all taken shelter from the weather in their own dens.”

“There’s just not much out there,” Leaf agreed, and Clover nodded.

“Are you arguing with me?” Thunderstar growled. “This isn’t enough prey. We have to try harder. Thistle, Apple Blossom, Gooseberry, you’re coming with me.” He knew that he was being a little unreasonable, but he couldn’t let his Clan go hungry another day. Not when the kits would be here soon.

A large drop of cold water splashed down from the branches of the thornbush onto his shoulders. Apple Blossom slowly got to her feet, her tail drooping. The other cats were looking at each other dismally, seeming skinnier than usual with their damp fur plastered to their backs.

“But it’s horrible out,” Thistle objected.

Gooseberry licked her chest fur, avoiding Thunderstar’s gaze. “If the others hunted for so long and found so little, are we going to do any better?”

The fur along Thunderstar’s spine began to bristle. Don’t they understand how important this is? What kind of cat would let their Clan go hungry?

Before Thunderstar could let his anger out on his Clanmates, Lightning Tail hurriedly stepped forward. “It’s tough hunting out there,” he agreed. “But we’re a Clan . We protect each other and take care of each other. And we’re the best hunters of any Clan in the forest.”

“We are!” Hazel Burrow raised his head proudly, and Thunderstar saw Pink Eyes’s whiskers twitching with fond amusement at the young cat’s declaration.

“Leaf and Clover and Owl Eyes managed to find prey for ThunderClan even in these terrible conditions,” Lightning Tail went on, his tail lashing excitedly. “We’re all grateful to them. Thunderstar’s grateful to them, too. But the rest of us have to try to do just as well. If we don’t give up, we can feed every cat!”

Gooseberry, who had looked stiff and resentful when Thunderstar chose her for his hunting party, was now sitting up straight, her eyes bright. Apple Blossom’s tail wasn’t drooping anymore, and Thistle was puffing out his chest proudly.

Thunderstar shot a grateful look at his deputy. Lightning Tail blinked at him cheerfully, and padded closer. “I’ll come, too. ThunderClan will always take care of its own,” he said.

Thunderstar tasted the air, searching for the scent of prey in the rain-washed forest. Leaf had been right, and there was little to find after three days of this steady drizzle. But they had gotten lucky; Apple Blossom had stumbled across a nest of mice, and the six the cats had managed to catch would go a long way toward feeding ThunderClan.

He couldn’t find any trace of prey in the air now, just the heavy scents of wet earth and growing plants. But as Thunderstar began to move on, he heard a slight crackling coming from a nearby clump of bracken. Pricking his ears to listen more closely, he peered beneath the bush. At first, he saw nothing in the shadows, but then he made out the shape of a fat bird.

Thunderstar’s mouth watered. He signaled with his tail, and Thistle and Lightning Tail joined him.

“Under the bush,” Thunderstar said softly, and Thistle’s tail twitched with excitement.

“It can’t fly off from under there,” Lightning Tail said. “Let’s spread out in case it tries to run.” He signaled to Gooseberry and Apple Blossom, and the four cats, hunching low, began to approach the bush from different directions.

Thunderstar moved quickly and silently, coming as close to the bush as he could without alerting the bird inside. He could see now that it was a pigeon, hunched against the rain, its feathers fluffed, keeping almost entirely still. He was lucky to have spotted it. It was a fat, large bird, and would feed several of his Clanmates.

The pigeon’s head turned, its bright orange eyes catching sight of Thunderstar at last. But he launched himself forward before it could move. Landing squarely on top of the pigeon, he bit down on its neck. Warm blood flooded his mouth, and the bird twitched once and lay still. Thunderstar backed out of the bracken, dragging the pigeon with him.

That was their last catch of the afternoon, but with the mice they had caught earlier, Thunderstar was feeling fairly satisfied by the time the shadows began to grow long and they headed back to camp. Every cat would have something to eat today, even if their bellies would not be completely filled.

The rain had even begun to let up by the time the hunting party pushed their way through the gorse back into camp.

“Yum!” said Clover, hobbling toward them. Her leg was clearly still injured, despite Cloud Spots’s treatment, but her eyes were bright. “You had better luck than we did!”

Blue Whisker and Shivering Rose hurried toward them. “Can we share a mouse?”

“Of course you can,” Thunderstar said, glancing at the rest of his expectant Clan. “Every cat has to share, but there should be enough for all of us to have something.” His gaze met Violet Dawn’s warmly admiring one across the camp, and his tail fluffed a little with pride.

But as she came toward the prey pile, Milkweed suddenly froze, one paw extended in the middle of a step, sniffing the air.

“What is it?” Owl Eyes asked.

The ginger-and-black she-cat’s eyes were wide with fright. “Do you smell that?” she asked. Thunderstar sniffed, but before he could identify the faint foul scent drifting on the air, a wild chorus of barking erupted outside camp.

Dogs!

Thunderstar grabbed Patch Pelt, the closest kit, by the scruff of his neck. “Up,” he ordered through a mouthful of fur, swinging the tiny ginger-and-black tom-kit partway up the trunk of one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. Wide-eyed, the kit dug in his claws and scrambled up toward the birch’s branches. Next to him, Milkweed helped Beech Tail climb the same tree and followed her up, the trunk shaking under their weight.