Эрин Хантер - Legends of the Clans

Spottedpaw looked at Featherwhisker in alarm. “You don’t mean that, do you? You said my shoulder was healed enough to go back to training.”

Featherwhisker purred. “No, you’re fit to train. But I’ve enjoyed having you here, Spottedpaw. If you ever change your mind about becoming a warrior, I’d be honored to have you as my apprentice.”

“Never!” Spottedpaw meowed. The medicine cat blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. But I’m going to be a warrior.”

Featherwhisker nodded. “Well, good luck, and if you see any catmint while you’re on patrol, don’t forget to pick some. Our stores are very low.”

“Will do!” Spottedpaw trotted through the ferns, careful not to disturb Goosefeather, and emerged in the sun-dappled clearing. Thrushpelt was outside the warriors’ den, his back arched in a stretch. Spottedpaw bounded over to him. “Featherwhisker said I can start training again!”

“That’s excellent news,” Thrushpelt meowed. “We’ll do some hunting practice today, nothing too strenuous. I don’t think you should go on patrol for a while.”

“I’m fine, honestly. My shoulder still aches a bit, but Featherwhisker is happy for me to do as much as I can.”

The sandy-gray warrior twitched his ears. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He headed toward the gorse tunnel. Willowpaw and Redpaw were bundling through, dragging a squirrel between them.

“Wow!” mewed Spottedpaw. “Did you catch that?”

“Yup!” Willowpaw announced. “And yesterday I nearly caught a pigeon!”

Redpaw flicked her with his tail. “More like it nearly flew off with you!”

Spottedpaw felt a stab of envy. Her injury had put her far behind her littermates. She would have to train twice as hard—if Thrushpelt allowed her.

Thrushpelt beckoned to Spottedpaw with his tail and she trotted after him through the tunnel and up the ravine, stepping carefully to avoid jolting her shoulder. They plunged into the ferns, which were cool and damp after a recent fall of rain. Spottedpaw breathed deeply, enjoying the freshness after the stuffy, still air inside Featherwhisker’s den.

Thrushpelt stopped in a clear space and sat down, curling his tail around his haunches. “Let’s start off with a hunting crouch, a sideways pounce, and some silent stalking.”

Spottedpaw tucked her hind legs under her and balanced her weight over them. Her shoulder protested when she let her body slide backward but she kept her front paws resting lightly on the ground. When she sprang forward, she was careful to put more weight on her uninjured leg. She saw Thrushpelt narrow his eyes, watching for unsteadiness, but she kept her balance by sinking her claws into the dusty soil. Her mentor nodded. Spottedpaw relaxed, then gathered herself for the sideways pounce. She deliberately went toward her strong side but she still jarred her shoulder and let out a whimper.

“Take it easy,” Thrushpelt murmured. “You’re doing well.”

Spottedpaw finished by stepping softly across the glade, lowering each paw onto the grass without making a sound. She had always enjoyed stalking. She might not be the fastest runner among the apprentices, or the strongest, but she could creep up on anything!

“Let’s go see if there is an easy catch or two waiting for us,” Thrushpelt meowed. “You obviously haven’t forgotten any of your hunting skills.” He stood up and let Spottedpaw take the lead. She headed toward treecutplace, knowing it would be easier to hunt without getting tangled up in undergrowth. She wasn’t going to chase any squirrels up trees, though!

The pine trees were still and quiet, strongly scented from the rain. Spottedpaw and Thrushpelt padded across the bed of needles until the red dens of Twolegplace were visible between the trunks. Spottedpaw picked up a hint of something warm and furry—a rabbit or perhaps a vole—and bent her nose to the ground, following the trail.

A line of glossy-leaved bushes grew at the edge of the trees. The scent trail vanished among the branches. Spottedpaw wriggled underneath and cast around, but there was no trace of it. Suddenly she heard voices and froze.

“What are you doing here? This is ThunderClan territory!” That was Thistleclaw, but who was he talking to? Spottedpaw peered through the branches but could only see the swath of bright green grass running beside the Twolegplace fence.

Then Bluefur spoke: “Thistleclaw, he’s only a kit. He’s no threat.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. Spottedpaw crawled toward the edge of the bush, dragging her belly silently through the dust and leaf scraps. A tiny black kit was standing muzzle-deep in the grass, facing Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw. Bluefur stood behind Thistleclaw, her fur fluffed up.

“An intruder is an intruder, Bluefur!” Thistleclaw growled. “You’ve always been too soft on them.” He looked at Tigerpaw, who was bouncing on his toes. “Here, let’s put it to my apprentice. What do you think, Tigerpaw? How should we handle this?”

Tigerpaw’s eyes gleamed. “I think the kittypet should be taught a lesson. One it’ll remember.”

Spottedpaw felt her belly flip over. This was not going to end well.

“Now, hold on, there’s no need for this…” Bluefur begged, lunging forward.

Thistleclaw spun to face her. “Shut up!”

At the same moment, Tigerpaw hurled himself at the kit. The tiny black cat flew across the ground and landed with a thud. Spottedpaw winced. Surely it would turn tail and flee now?

“Get up!” snarled Tigerpaw.

The kit scrabbled its paws in the dirt but before it could stand, Tigerpaw pounced on it and held it down. He raked its muzzle with bare claws, then slashed down its flank. Bright red lines of blood sprang onto the glossy black fur.

“Show it your teeth, Tigerpaw!” Thistleclaw urged.

The apprentice bit deep into the kit’s shoulder. The kit let out a terrible screech and tried desperately to get away. Spottedpaw gathered her haunches beneath her, ready to spring out and rescue the helpless little cat. No kittypet deserved to be treated like this!

Before she could move, a blue-gray blur shot across the grass and Bluefur blocked Tigerpaw’s path to the kit. “Stop, Tigerpaw!” she yowled. “That’s enough! Warriors don’t need to kill to win a battle, remember?”

Tigerpaw narrowed his eyes. The kit’s blood dripped from his teeth and pooled on the dusty ground. “I was just defending our territory.”

“And you’ve done that,” Bluefur meowed more quietly. “This kit has learned its lesson.”

Behind her, the kit stood up and stared in terror at Tigerpaw.

Tigerpaw glared back. “Yeah, you’ll never forget me!” He took one step forward and the kit fled with a whimper, limping into the grass and vanishing under the nearest fence.

Bluefur let the fur rise along her spine. “If I ever see you do something like that again, I’ll report you to Sunstar!”

Thistleclaw bared his teeth. “We were only defending ThunderClan from invaders.”

“That so-called invader was a kit !” Bluefur pointed out.

“That’s his problem,” Thistleclaw mewed. He beckoned to Tigerpaw with his tail and stalked into the pine trees. The dappled shadows swallowed them up, leaving Bluefur alone, her pelt ruffled with anger.

Spottedpaw took a deep breath and backed out of the bush. She was shaking with horror at Tigerpaw’s hostility toward the defenseless kit. If Bluefur hadn’t stopped him, would he have killed that tiny kittypet? Spottedpaw pictured the deep scratch on Thistleclaw’s ear, and wondered where it had come from. Had Tigerpaw caught him unawares during a mock battle? Was that why Thistleclaw had seemed so angry about his injury?