Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

Violet Dawn stroked her tail along Thunderstar’s side, looking worried. “I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt. Those dogs are so dangerous.”

“If you’re going, you’re not going alone,” Lightning Tail said fiercely. “The two of us will be stronger together. I’m your deputy; I should be with you, supporting you.”

It would be so much better to have Lightning Tail with me, Thunderstar thought. From their kithood adventures to the fiercest battles of carving out the Clans’ territory, Thunderstar had always fought better, climbed higher, thought more quickly, with Lightning Tail by his side. But when he looked at Violet Dawn, her sides rounded with his kits, he knew he had to refuse. “I need you to look after Violet Dawn,” he said. “You’re the only one I trust to make sure she’s safe. You’re right, you are my deputy—so you’re the one who has to keep the Clan safe when I’m not there.”

“I can keep the Clan safest by going with you to where the danger is. Owl Eyes can watch out for the Clan, and Cloud Spots will make sure Violet Dawn’s healthy,” Lightning Tail argued. “She doesn’t need me.”

Thunderstar shook his head. “They’re good cats, but I’ll feel better if you’re in charge. Cloud Spots isn’t a fighter, and Owl Eyes isn’t as experienced as you are. I need Violet Dawn to be safe.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Violet Dawn huffed. “I’m having kits, not becoming one.”

Thunderstar licked at his chest, embarrassed. Violet Dawn had fought off one of the dogs herself so that she, Snail Shell, and Owl Eyes could escape. She wasn’t fragile or helpless. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you, and I’ll feel better if Lightning Tail is here.”

“Well, I’m worried about you, too,” Violet Dawn mewed, the end of her tail twitching. “You’re walking into some kind of weird Twoleg camp. All we know is that a pack of vicious dogs lives there. And I will feel much better if Lightning Tail is with you. ” She looked at him pleadingly. “You’re my Clan leader as well as my mate, and I respect you, but please don’t walk into this alone. I want you to come home.”

Thunderstar hated to leave Violet Dawn without the very best protection she could have in his absence, but he had to admit to himself that she was right.

Leaping lightly to the top of the Highrock, he called out to his Clan. “All cats gather here beneath the Highrock! I have something to tell you.” He saw Beech Tail and Patch Pelt, about to be bundled into the nursery, turn toward him with sleepy faces, and amended, “I mean, all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather here beneath the Highrock.”

He waited as his Clan, ears perked with interest, gathered in the clearing below him.

“Tomorrow morning, Lightning Tail and I are going to travel out of the forest for a couple of days,” he announced when they had all settled down and given him their full attention. “We’re going to figure out what to do about the dogs that attacked our camp. While we’re gone, Violet Dawn will be in charge.” He found Owl Eyes in the crowd and continued, “Owl Eyes will act as her deputy, and you should listen to him just like you’d listen to Lightning Tail. And Cloud Spots will advise them just like he would us.” Cloud Spots nodded to him across the clearing while Owl Eyes sat up straight, proudly holding his head high.

“Good luck, Thunderstar,” Apple Blossom called enthusiastically, and there were yowls of agreement from the crowd of cats.

“Thank you,” Thunderstar meowed, and leaped down from the Highrock. His eyes met Lightning Tail’s and he knew he and his deputy were thinking the same thing: They were definitely going to need that luck.

The next day, the two cats passed the Carrionplace as the sun was climbing the sky. The sun was warm, but a cool breeze ruffled Thunderstar’s fur. It was a good day for walking.

Lightning Tail stopped and sniffed the breeze. “Do you smell that?”

“The Carrionplace?” Thunderstar asked, his face wrinkling in disgust. “Sure, my nose isn’t broken.”

“No, not that.” Lightning Tail sniffed again. “It smells like those dogs. But something else…”

Thunderstar could smell it now, too, and he shuddered. “Strange cats. And blood. A lot of blood.”

Lightning Tail shifted nervously. “Maybe we should go another way.”

“No.” Thunderstar scented the air carefully. “It’s old scent. They’re not here anymore, not the cats or the dogs. We should see what happened.”

Following the stale scents, Thunderstar and Lightning Tail crossed a long stretch of open land until they came to a small dip in the ground.

“This was some kind of camp,” Lightning Tail said softly. There were the remains of several nests tucked beneath a barberry bush, but they had been torn apart, and the scent of the dogs was heavy in the air. A group of rogues must have lived here. Cat fear-scent was heavy, too, and Thunderstar’s pelt prickled uneasily.

“I hope they got away,” he said, but Lightning Tail was staring at a ragged bundle of brown fur on the other side of the bush.

“They didn’t. Not all of them,” he said.

They approached cautiously. Close up, they could see that the bundle of fur was a small brown she-cat, her face fixed in an expression of terror. She was dead. The scent of the dogs around her and the bloody toothmarks in her pelt made it all too clear how she had been killed. Thunderstar shuddered. It must have been a terrible way to die. And Violet Dawn could have died the same way, or any of the cats in ThunderClan, if they hadn’t been able to get to the trees in time.

“The other cats ran away and left her,” Lightning Tail mewed indignantly. “Fox-hearted rogues.”

“They were scared,” Thunderstar replied. “You’ve seen what these dogs are like.”

“If they were Clan cats, they would have fought to save their Clanmate,” Lightning Tail argued staunchly.

He was right. Thunderstar couldn’t imagine abandoning a Clanmate to this fate: He would have fought beside her, and, if there was no way to save her, he would never have left her body to lie outside the camp like crow-food. But he couldn’t blame the rogues for their terror.

“We should bury her,” he murmured. “We can at least give her that.”

Sunhigh passed as the two cats dug the rogue’s grave. They didn’t talk much as they dug, and dirt caked uncomfortably beneath Thunderstar’s claws. His heart felt as heavy as a stone: The rogue’s death made it clearer than ever how dangerous these dogs were, and how unlikely it was that Thunderstar and his Clanmates would be able to fight against them. Where would ThunderClan go, if they had to leave their comfortable camp in the ravine? And what if the dogs found them again after that?

The rogue’s body was light as they tumbled her into her grave, and Thunderstar’s chest ached with sorrow at how small she seemed. He bowed his head. “StarClan,” he said, “I don’t know who this cat was. She wasn’t a Clan cat, and so maybe she won’t be able to walk among you. But please help her to find her own hunting grounds.”

The shadows were getting longer and their steps were heavy by the time they reached the hill overlooking the strange Twolegplace. This time, the strangeness of the dead monsters seemed less important. The dogs were walking among them, weaving their way between the monsters and around the Twoleg dwelling they surrounded.

They were even bigger than Thunderstar remembered, and their stench wafted up to the cats so clearly that Thunderstar wanted to cover his nose and turn away. Their shoulders were broad, and bulging muscles moved under their short fur—they looked very strong.