Читать книгу MIDNIGHT - Erin Hunter, Erin Hunter, Эрин Хантер - Страница 10

“Squirrelpaw is upset,” Leafpaw remarked, watching her sister leave the medicine cat’s clearing with the twig of mouse bile clenched in her jaws.

“She deserves to be.” Cinderpelt glanced up from counting juniper berries. She spoke firmly, though not unsympathetically. “If apprentices think they can go off by themselves, without telling any cat, then where would we be?”

“I know.” While Leafpaw prepared the mouse bile, she had listened to her sister raging about how unfair the punishment was. Squirrelpaw’s anger churned deep within Leafpaw’s belly, as if the air in the camp were water and her sister was sending ripples of cold frustration into the medicine cat’s den. Ever since they were tiny kits they had always known what the other was feeling. Leafpaw remembered how her fur had tingled with excitement when Squirrelpaw was made apprentice, and how her sister had been unable to sleep on the night when Leafpaw had been apprenticed as a medicine cat at the Moonstone. Once she had felt an excruciating pain in her paw, and limped around the camp from sunhigh to sunset, until Squirrelpaw returned from a hunting patrol with a thorn driven deep into her pad.

Leafpaw shook her head as if she had a burr clinging to her pelt, trying to push away her sister’s emotions and concentrate on her task of sorting yarrow leaves.

“Squirrelpaw will be fine,” Cinderpelt reassured her. “It’ll all be forgotten tomorrow. Now, did you get any of that mouse bile on your fur? If you did, you’d better go and wash it off.”

“No, Cinderpelt, I’m fine.” Leafpaw knew her voice was filled with the strain she was feeling, however hard she tried to hide it.

“Cheer up.” Cinderpelt limped out of her den to join her apprentice, pressing her muzzle comfortingly against Leafpaw’s side. “Do you want to come to the Gathering tonight?”

“May I?” Leafpaw spun to face her mentor. Then she hesitated. “Squirrelpaw won’t be allowed to come, will she?”

“After today? Certainly not!” Cinderpelt’s blue eyes glowed with understanding. “Leafpaw, you and your sister aren’t kits anymore. And you have chosen a very different path from hers, to be a medicine cat. You will always be friends, but you can’t do everything together, and the sooner you both accept that, the better.”

Leafpaw nodded and bent over the yarrow leaves again. She struggled to calm her feelings of excitement over the Gathering, so that Squirrelpaw would not feel even more upset over being left out. Cinderpelt was right, but all the same she couldn’t help wishing that she and Squirrelpaw had been able to attend the Gathering together.

The full moon rode high in the sky as Firestar led the cats from ThunderClan up the slope toward Fourtrees. Padding along beside Cinderpelt, Leafpaw shivered with anticipation. This was the place where the territories of all four Clans joined together. At every full moon, the Clan leaders met here with their warriors under the sacred truce of StarClan to exchange news and make decisions that would affect the whole forest.

Firestar paused at the top of the slope and gazed down into the clearing. Leafpaw, near the back of the group, could only just see the tops of the four great oak trees that gave the clearing its name, but she could hear the sounds of many cats, and the breeze brought to her the mingled scents of ShadowClan, RiverClan, and WindClan.

Before her first Gathering, the only other cats Leafpaw had met were the three medicine cats from the other Clans, when she made her journey to Highstones at the half moon to be formally apprenticed. When she had attended a Gathering for the first time, she and Squirrelpaw had been overwhelmed by all the strangers, and had stayed close to their mentors. But this time Leafpaw felt more confident, and she was looking forward to meeting warriors and apprentices from other Clans.

Crouching in the undergrowth, she watched her father for the signal to move down into the clearing. Brambleclaw was standing just in front of her with Mousefur and Sorreltail. Leafpaw could see from the tautness in the young tabby’s muscles that he was eagerly waiting for the Gathering to start, while Sorreltail’s whole body quivered with excitement at the prospect of her first Gathering as a warrior. Further ahead, Greystripe and Sandstorm were exchanging a few words, while Cloudtail shifted impatiently from paw to paw. Briefly Leafpaw felt a pang of sadness that Squirrelpaw was not there as well, but to her relief her sister had not minded too much about being left behind, saying that she was looking forward to a good night’s sleep after caring for the elders all day.

At last Firestar raised his tail as the sign for his cats to move forward. Leafpaw sprang over the edge of the hollow and found herself racing down the slope just behind Brambleclaw, weaving her way through the bushes until she came out into the clearing.

The shimmering moonlight revealed a mass of cats, some already seated around the Great Rock in the centre, others trotting across the clearing to greet cats they had not seen for a moon, or lying in the shelter of the bushes to gossip and share tongues. Brambleclaw slipped into the throng right away, and Cinderpelt went over to speak to Littlecloud, the ShadowClan medicine cat. Leafpaw hesitated, still a little daunted by the number of warriors in front of her, the unfamiliar scents, and the glowing of so many eyes that all seemed to be trained on her.

Then she caught sight of Greystripe with a group of cats who all had the scent of RiverClan. Leafpaw recognised a warrior with dense blue-grey fur whom they had met at the last Gathering, and remembered her name: Mistyfoot, the RiverClan deputy. The two younger warriors were strangers to her, but Greystripe greeted them affectionately, pressing his muzzle against theirs.

Leafpaw was just wondering if she would be welcome to go and talk to them when Mistyfoot caught her eye and beckoned to her with her tail. “Hi—it’s Leafpaw, isn’t it? Cinderpelt’s apprentice?”

“That’s right.” Leafpaw padded over. “How are you?”

“We’re all well, and the Clan is thriving,” Mistyfoot replied. “Have you met Stormfur and Feathertail?”

“My kits,” Greystripe added proudly, though it was several moons since these strong cats had left the nursery.

Leafpaw touched noses with the young warriors, realising that she should have guessed Stormfur was Greystripe’s kin. The two cats had the same muscular bodies and long grey pelt. Feathertail’s fur was a lighter silver-grey tabby; her blue eyes glowed with warmth and friendliness as she greeted Leafpaw.

“I know Cinderpelt well,” she meowed. “She looked after me once when I was ill. You must be proud to be her apprentice.”

Leafpaw nodded. “Very proud. But she knows so much, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever learn it all!”

Feathertail purred sympathetically. “I felt the same about becoming a warrior. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“You say the Clan’s thriving, Mistyfoot,” Greystripe meowed quietly, “but you’re looking worried. Is there a problem?”

Now that he mentioned it, Leafpaw could see a glimmer of uneasiness in the RiverClan deputy’s eyes. Mistyfoot hesitated for a couple of heartbeats and then shrugged. “It’s probably nothing but . . . Well, you’ll hear about it soon enough when the Gathering starts.”

As she spoke she glanced toward the Great Rock. Leafpaw saw that two cats were already waiting on the summit. Silhouetted against the shining circle of the full moon was Tallstar, leader of WindClan, easily recognizable by his long tail. Beside him stood Leopardstar, the RiverClan leader, staring around impatiently at the cats below. As Leafpaw watched, she saw Firestar leap up to join them.

“Where is ShadowClan’s leader?” Leopardstar called out. “Blackstar, what are you waiting for?”

“Just coming.” A heavy white tom with jet black paws shouldered his way through the cats not far from Leafpaw. He crouched at the base of the rock and sprang up to land lightly beside the RiverClan leader.

As soon as his paws touched the rock Leopardstar threw back her head and let out a yowl. At once the noise in the clearing died down and every cat turned to face the Great Rock. Feathertail settled down beside Leafpaw with a friendly glance, and Leafpaw found herself warming to the gentle young warrior.

“Cats of all Clans, welcome.” Tallstar, the eldest of all the Clan leaders, moved to the front of the Great Rock, raising his voice to address the assembled cats. Glancing at his fellow leaders, he asked, “Who will speak first?”

“I will.” Firestar stepped forward, his flame-coloured pelt turned silver in the moonlight.

Leafpaw listened as her father passed on the news about the badger at Snakerocks. It caused little stir; the creature was unlikely to move from there onto another Clan’s territory as long as the forest was full of prey.

“And we have a new warrior,” Firestar went on. “The Thunder Clan apprentice Sorrelpaw has taken the warrior name of Sorreltail.”

A murmur of appreciation rippled around the clearing; Sorreltail was popular and well-known among the other Clans, having been to several more Gatherings than the average apprentice. Leafpaw caught a glimpse of her sitting up very straight and proud beside Sandstorm.

Firestar stepped back and Blackstar took his place. He had taken over the leadership of ShadowClan after the death of Tigerstar. Under his leadership ShadowClan was trusted more than before, though it was still believed that cold winds blew over the hearts of the ShadowClan cats and darkened their thoughts.

“ShadowClan is strong and prey is plentiful,” Blackstar announced. “The heat of greenleaf has dried up part of the marshes on our territory, but we still have plenty of water to drink.”

His glance raked defiantly around the clearing, and Leafpaw reflected that even if ShadowClan had less than a single raindrop left in their territory, Blackstar was unlikely to admit as much to the Gathering.

Tallstar flicked his tail at Leopardstar, inviting her to speak, but she drew back, leaving the next place to him. The WindClan leader hesitated for a moment, and Leafpaw saw that his eyes were clouded with worry.

“Blackstar spoke truly of the heat of greenleaf,” he began. “It is many days since the forest saw rain, and the moorland streams on WindClan’s territory have been scorched away completely this last quarter moon. We have no water at all.”

“But the river borders your territory,” a cat called out from the shadows beneath the Great Rock; craning her neck to see, Leafpaw recognised Russetfur, the ShadowClan deputy.

“The river runs through a deep, sheer-sided gorge for the whole length of our border,” Tallstar replied. “It’s too dangerous to go down there. Warriors have tried, and One whisker fell, though thank StarClan he was not hurt. Our kits and elders cannot manage the climb. They are suffering badly, and I fear that some of the younger kits might die.”

“Can’t your kits and elders chew grass for the moisture?” another cat suggested.

Tallstar shook his head. “The grass is parched. I tell you, there is no water anywhere on our territory.” Turning with clear reluctance to the RiverClan leader, he meowed, “Leopardstar, in the name of StarClan I must ask that you let us come into your territory to drink from the river there.”

Leopardstar came to stand beside the WindClan leader, her dappled golden fur rippling in the moonlight. “The water in the river is low,” she warned. “We have not escaped the effects of this drought in my Clan.”

“But there is far more than you need,” Tallstar responded, desperation creeping into his tone.

Leopardstar nodded. “That is true.” Coming to the very edge of the rock, she looked down into the clearing and asked, “What do my warriors think? Mistyfoot?”

The RiverClan deputy rose to her paws, but before she could speak one of her Clan mates cried out, “We can’t trust them! Let WindClan set one paw over our border, and they’ll be taking our prey as well as our water.”

Leafpaw could see the speaker, a smoky black tom, sitting a few foxlengths away, but she did not recognise him.

“That’s Blackclaw,” Feathertail murmured into her ear. “He’s loyal to the Clan, but . . .” She trailed off, obviously unwilling to say anything bad about her Clan mate.

Mistyfoot turned and fixed Blackclaw with a clear blue stare. “You forget the times when RiverClan has needed help from other Clans,” she meowed. “If they had not helped us then, we would not be here today.” To Leopardstar she added, “I say we should allow this. We have water to spare.”

The clearing fell silent as the cats waited for Leopardstar to make her decision. “Very well, Tallstar,” she meowed at last. “Your Clan may enter our territory to drink from the river just below the Twoleg bridge. But you will come no further, and you do not have leave to take prey.”

Tallstar bowed his head, and Leafpaw heard the relief in his voice as he replied, “Leopardstar, RiverClan has our thanks, from the oldest elder to the youngest kit. You have saved our Clan.”

“The drought will not last forever, and you will have water in your territory soon. We will discuss this again at the next Gathering,” Leopardstar meowed.

“I’m sure they will,” Greystripe muttered darkly. “If I know Leopardstar, she’ll make WindClan pay for that water somehow.”

“Let us hope that StarClan have sent rain by then,” Tallstar meowed, stepping back to let Leopardstar address the Gathering.

Leafpaw’s interest quickened as she wondered if they were about to hear what had been troubling Mistyfoot earlier, but at first the RiverClan leader’s news was unremarkable: a litter of kits had been born, and Twolegs had left rubbish by the river, attracting rats that had been killed by Blackclaw and Stormfur. Greystripe looked ready to burst with pride when his son was praised, while Stormfur scuffed the ground with his paws, his ears flat with embarrassment.

At last Leopardstar meowed, “Some of you have met our apprentices Hawkpaw and Mothpaw. They are now warriors, and will be known as Hawkfrost and Mothwing.”

The cats around Leafpaw craned their necks to see the warriors the RiverClan leader had named; Leafpaw turned to look too, but she could not distinguish them among the throng. The traditional welcoming murmur for all new warriors broke out at the announcement, but to Leafpaw’s surprise it was mingled with a few disconcerting growls, which she realised were coming from RiverClan cats.

Leopardstar glared down from the rock and stilled the noise with a flick of her tail. “Do I hear protests?” she spat out angrily. “Very well, I will tell you everything, to stop rumours flying once and for all.

“Six moons ago, at the beginning of newleaf, a rogue cat came to RiverClan, with her two surviving kits. Her name was Sasha, and the birth of her kits had weakened her so much that she needed help with hunting and caring for them. For a time she thought of joining the Clan, and we would have welcomed her as a warrior, but in the end she decided the warrior code was not the way of life for her. She left us, but her kits chose to stay.”

A flood of protest surged up from the cats around the rock. One voice rose clear above the yowling. “Rogue cats? Taken into a Clan? Has RiverClan gone mad?”

Greystripe shot a questioning glance at Mistyfoot, who shrugged.

“They are good warriors,” she murmured defensively.

Leopardstar made no attempt to quiet the clamour, only staring stonily down until it died away. “They are strong young cats and they have learned their warrior skills well,” she meowed when she could make herself heard. “They have sworn to defend their Clan at the cost of their lives, just as all of you have sworn.” With a glance at Blackstar, she added, “Were not some of ShadowClan’s warriors rogues once?” Before he could reply, her gaze swivelled to Firestar. “And if a kittypet can become Clan leader, why should rogues not be welcome as warriors?”

“She has a point there,” Greystripe admitted.

Firestar dipped his head toward Leopardstar. “True,” he mewed. “I will be glad to see these cats fulfil their promise as loyal members of their Clan.”

Leopardstar nodded in reply; his words had clearly appeased her.

“Is that what was worrying you, Mistyfoot?” Greystripe asked. “It’s no big deal, if they’ve settled down well.”

“I know.” Mistyfoot sighed. “And I know I’m the last cat to criticise any warrior for being born outside the Clan, but . . .”

“You do know that Mistyfoot’s mother was your old leader, Bluestar?” Feathertail whispered to Leafpaw.

Leafpaw nodded.

“But Leopardstar hasn’t told you everything,” Mistyfoot went on. The blue-grey warrior broke off as Leopardstar began to speak again.

“Mothwing has chosen a special place within our Clan,” she explained. “Mudfur, our medicine cat, is growing old, and the time has come for him to take an apprentice.”

This time her voice was drowned completely by the howls of protest. The three other leaders on top of the Great Rock drew together for an anxious conference. Tallstar was clearly unwilling to speak out after Leopardstar had agreed to give him access to the river, and in the end it was Blackstar who replied. “I’m ready to admit that a rogue can learn enough of our code to become a warrior,” he rasped. “But a medicine cat? What do rogues know of StarClan? Will StarClan even accept her?”

“That’s what’s bothering me,” Mistyfoot muttered to Greystripe.

Leafpaw felt a tingle spread through her fur. She remembered her own conviction, back when she had been little more than a kit, that it was right for her to heal and comfort her Clan mates, and to interpret the signs of StarClan for them. Had Mothwing felt the same? Leafpaw wondered. Could she have felt the same, if she was not Clan-born? Even Yellowfang, the medicine cat before Cinderpelt, had been forest-born, though ThunderClan had not been the Clan of her birth.

Voices all around the clearing echoed Blackstar’s questions. At the base of the rock an old brown tom heaved himself to his paws and waited for quiet; it was Mudfur, the RiverClan medicine cat.

As the noise died down, he raised his voice. “Mothwing is a talented young cat,” he meowed. “But because she was born a rogue, I am waiting for a sign from StarClan that she is the right medicine cat for RiverClan. Once I have received that sign, I will take her to Mothermouth at the half-moon time. If I act without the blessing of StarClan, then you can all complain—but not until then.” He flopped back down again, his whiskers twitching irritably.

The crowd had parted so that Leafpaw could make out the young cat crouched beside him. She was startlingly beautiful, with glowing amber eyes in a triangular face, and a long golden pelt with rippling tabby stripes.

“Is that Mothwing?” she whispered to Feathertail.

“That’s right.” Feathertail gave Leafpaw’s ear a quick lick. “When the leaders have finished I’ll take you to meet her, if you like. She’s quite friendly, once you get to know her.”

Leafpaw nodded eagerly. She was sure that Mudfur would soon receive the sign that Mothwing could be accepted. There were no other medicine cat apprentices in the forest, and she looked forward to making friends with another one—someone she could talk to about her training and all the mysteries of StarClan that were slowly being revealed to her.

The protests had died down after Mudfur’s speech, and as Leopardstar had no more to say Tallstar brought the meeting to an end.

Feathertail leaped to her paws. “Come on, before we all have to leave.”

As Leafpaw followed the RiverClan warrior across the clearing, she felt sympathy already for Mothwing. Judging by the response of the other cats tonight, it was easy to imagine the hard path that lay ahead of her before she would be fully accepted by her Clan.

As the Gathering drew to a close and the cats began to separate into their own Clans, Brambleclaw looked around for his sister, Tawnypelt. He had not seen her, and wondered if she had not been chosen to come this time.

He saw Firestar halt in front of a young tabby tom who was sitting near Mudfur, the RiverClan medicine cat.

“Congratulations, Hawkfrost,” Firestar meowed. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine warrior.”

So that’s Hawkfrost, Brambleclaw thought with interest, pricking up his ears. The rogue-born RiverClan cat.

“Thank you, Firestar,” the new warrior replied. “I’ll do my best to serve my Clan.”

“I’m sure you will.” Firestar touched Hawkfrost on the shoulder with the tip of his tail in a gesture of encouragement. “Pay no attention to all the fuss. It’ll all be forgotten in a moon.”

He walked on, and Hawkfrost raised his head to look after him. Brambleclaw couldn’t quite suppress a shiver when he glimpsed the tom’s eyes, an eerie ice blue that seemed to stare through the ThunderClan leader as if he were made of smoke.

“Great StarClan!” he murmured aloud. “I wouldn’t like to meet him in battle.”

“Meet who?”

Brambleclaw spun around to see Tawnypelt standing behind him. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Answering her question, he added, “Hawkfrost. He looks dangerous.”

Tawnypelt shrugged. “So are you dangerous. I’m dangerous. It’s what warriors are for. This whole full-moon thing could be broken by the slash of a claw—and has been before.”

Brambleclaw nodded. “True. So how are you, Tawnypelt? How’s life in ShadowClan?”

“Pretty good.” Tawnypelt hesitated, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Look, there’s something I wanted to ask you about.” Brambleclaw sat down and pricked his ears expectantly. “The other night I had this weird dream. . . .”

“What?” He couldn’t bite back the exclamation, and Tawnypelt’s green eyes flew wide with alarm. “No, go on,” he meowed, forcing himself to be calm. “Tell me about the dream.”

“I was in a clearing in the forest,” Tawnypelt explained, “but I didn’t recognise exactly where it was. There was a cat sitting on a rock—a black cat; I think it was Nightstar. You know, ShadowClan’s leader before our father? I . . . I guess if StarClan were going to send a cat to ShadowClan, it wouldn’t be Tigerstar.”

“What did he say to you?” Brambleclaw asked hoarsely, already knowing what his sister’s answer would be.

“He told me that there was some great trouble coming to the forest, and a new prophecy had to be fulfilled. I had been chosen to meet with three other cats at the new moon, and listen to what midnight would tell us.”

Brambleclaw stared at her, his fur crawling with ice.

“What’s the matter?” Tawnypelt asked. “Why are you looking like that?”

“Because I had exactly the same dream, except that the cat who spoke to me was Bluestar.”

Tawnypelt blinked and her brother saw a shiver pass through her tortoiseshell fur. At last she meowed, “Have you told any other cat about your dream?”

Brambleclaw shook his head. “I didn’t know what to make of it. To be honest, I thought it was due to something I ate. I mean, why would StarClan send a vision like that to me, instead of to Firestar or Cinderpelt?”

“I thought the same,” his sister agreed. “And I expected the other three cats to be from ShadowClan, so when no other cat mentioned it . . .”

“I know, me too. I thought they would be from ThunderClan. But it looks as if we were wrong.”

Brambleclaw glanced around the clearing. The Gathering was thinning out as cats began to leave, and in spite of the protests over Hawkfrost and Mothwing the general mood was good-humoured. No other cats looked as if they had received doom-laden dreams. What possible trouble could be coming—and if it did, what could he and Tawnypelt do about it?

“What do you think we should do now?” Tawnypelt echoed his thoughts.

“If the dream was true, then two other cats should have had it,” Brambleclaw replied. “It makes sense that there would be one from each of the other two Clans. We should try to find out who.”

“Oh, yes.” Tawnypelt sounded scornful. “Are you going to walk into WindClan or RiverClan territory and ask every cat if they had a weird dream? I’m not. They would think we were mad, if they didn’t claw our ears off first.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“We’re all supposed to meet at the new moon,” Tawnypelt mewed thoughtfully. “Nightstar didn’t say where, but it must be here at Fourtrees. There isn’t anywhere else where cats from four different Clans can get together.”

“So you think we should come here at the new moon?”

“Unless you can think of a better idea.”

Brambleclaw shook his head. “I only hope the other cats do the same. If . . . if the dream is real, of course.”

He broke off as he heard a cat calling his name, and turned to see Firestar standing a short distance away, with the other ThunderClan cats gathered around him. “It’s time to go,” Firestar said.

“Coming!” Turning back to Tawnypelt he meowed urgently, “At the new moon, then. Say nothing to any cat. And trust StarClan the others will come.”

Tawnypelt nodded and slipped into the bushes, following her Clan mates. Brambleclaw hurried over to join Firestar, hoping that his shock and fear did not show on his face. He had tried to forget his dream, but if Tawnypelt had dreamed it as well, he had no choice but to take it seriously. Trouble was coming, and he did not know what to do about it, nor understand how midnight could tell him anything.

Oh, StarClan, he mewed silently. I hope you know what you’re doing!