MIDNIGHT. Эрин Хантер

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СКАЧАТЬ then,” Brambleclaw mewed, “if you’re so clever, where do you think we should hunt?”

      “Up toward Fourtrees, by the stream,” Squirrelpaw replied promptly. “That’s a much better place.”

      Brambleclaw was even more annoyed when he realised that she might be right. In spite of the endless hot days that had lasted all greenleaf, the stream there still ran cool and deep, with thick clumps of reeds where prey could hide. He hesitated, wondering how he could change his mind without losing face in front of the apprentice.

      “Squirrelpaw.” A new voice rescued him, and Brambleclaw realised that Sandstorm, Squirrelpaw’s mother, had padded over to join them. “Stop ruffling Brambleclaw’s fur. You chatter as much as a nest of jackdaws.” Her annoyed green gaze turned on Brambleclaw and she added, “And you’re just as bad. The pair of you are always squabbling; you can’t be trusted to hunt together if you can’t even get out of the clearing without scaring half the prey between here and Fourtrees.”

      “Sorry,” Brambleclaw muttered, embarrassment sweeping through his fur from ears to tail-tip.

      “You’re a warrior; you should know better. Go and ask Cloudtail if you can hunt with him. And as for you,” Sandstorm meowed to her daughter, “you can come and hunt with me and Sorrelpaw. Brackenfur won’t mind. And you’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll know the reason why.”

      Without looking back, she headed straight for the gorse tunnel that led out of the camp. Squirrelpaw stood still for a moment, a sulky look in her green eyes, and scuffed the ground with her forepaws.

      Sorrelpaw came up and gave her a friendly nudge. “Come on,” she urged. “This is my last hunt as an apprentice. Let’s make it a good one.”

      Reluctantly Squirrelpaw nodded, and the two cats set off together after Sandstorm; the dark ginger apprentice shot a last glare at Brambleclaw as she passed him.

      Brambleclaw shrugged. Squirrelpaw would get more experienced mentoring from Sandstorm than she would from him, so he wasn’t letting Dustpelt down even though the warrior had asked him to keep an eye on her. And he wouldn’t have to listen all morning to her annoying chatter, so he wasn’t sure why he felt slightly disappointed at being set on a different patrol.

      Pushing off the feeling, he bounded over to the nettle patch where Cloudtail and Brightheart were finishing their prey. Their single kit, Whitepaw, had just padded across to join them; as Brambleclaw came up he heard her say, “Are you going hunting? Please can I come with you?”

      Cloudtail flicked his tail. “No.” Whitepaw had begun to look disappointed when he added, “Brackenfur said he’d take you. He is your mentor, after all.”

      “He told me he’s really proud of you,” Brightheart purred.

      Whitepaw brightened up. “Great! I’ll go find him.”

      Cloudtail gave her an affectionate cuff over the ear with one paw before she dashed off, her tail waving excitedly.

      Brambleclaw hoped that didn’t mean that Cloudtail and Brightheart wanted to go out alone. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

      “Sure, you can come,” Cloudtail replied. He jumped up and nodded to Brightheart, then the three cats trotted together across the clearing towards the gorse tunnel.

      Just before he headed into the close-growing thorns, Brambleclaw glanced over his shoulder at the quiet activity going on in the camp. Every cat looked well fed, sleek furred, and confident that their territory was safe. Bluestar’s message came back to echo in his mind. Could it be true that some great trouble was coming upon the forest? Brambleclaw felt his fur prickle with foreboding. He decided that he would not tell any cat about the dream. That seemed like the only way he could convince himself that it meant nothing, and there was no new prophecy coming to disrupt life in the forest as they knew it.

      The sun was setting in a ball of fire, turning the tops of the trees to flame and sending long shadows across the clearing. Brambleclaw stretched and sighed with satisfaction. He was tired after the long day’s hunting, but his stomach was comfortably full. All the Clan had fed too, and there was an ample pile of fresh-kill. Greenleaf had been longer and hotter than any cat could remember, but the forest was still full of prey, and there was plenty of water in the stream close to Fourtrees.

      A good day, Brambleclaw thought contentedly. This is how life should be.

      The rest of the Clan was beginning to slip out into the clearing and gather around the Highrock, and Brambleclaw realised it was time for Sorrelpaw’s warrior ceremony. He padded closer to the Highrock and sat down close to Ferncloud’s brother, Ashfur, who gave him a friendly nod. Greystripe was already sitting at the base of the rock, looking as proud as if his own apprentice were about to be made a warrior. Greystripe had fathered two kits, but they had grown up in RiverClan, where their mother had been born. He had no kits in ThunderClan, but liked to keep an eye on the progress of all the young cats.

      As Brambleclaw watched, the deputy was joined by Cinderpelt, the medicine cat, and her apprentice, Leafpaw, Squirrelpaw’s sister. She looked nothing like Squirrelpaw; she was smaller and slighter, with pale tabby fur and a white chest and paws. The sisters were not much alike in character either. When Leafpaw sat down and tipped her head to one side to listen to what her mentor and the deputy were saying to each other, Brambleclaw wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to be so quiet and attentive when her sister Squirrelpaw never stopped talking.

      At last Firestar, the Clan leader, appeared from his den at the other side of the Highrock. He was a strong, lithe warrior, his pelt blazing like flame in the light of the setting sun. After pausing for a word with Greystripe, he bunched his muscles and leaped to the top of the Highrock, from where he could look down on the Clan.

      “Cats of ThunderClan!” he announced. “Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.”

      Most of the cats were there already, but as Firestar’s voice echoed around the clearing the last of the Clan members slid out from their dens and trotted over to join the others.

      Last of all came Sorrelpaw with her mentor, Sandstorm. Her tortoiseshell fur was freshly groomed, her white chest and paws shining like snow. Her amber eyes gleamed with pride and suppressed excitement as she paced across the clearing. Beside her, Sandstorm looked just as proud; Brambleclaw knew how much the ginger she-cat had suffered when she had seen her apprentice lying injured on the Thunderpath. They had both needed courage and perseverance to reach this ceremony.

      Firestar sprang down from the Highrock to meet the apprentice and her mentor. “Sandstorm,” he began, using the formal words that had been handed down through all the Clans, “are you satisfied that this apprentice is ready to become a warrior of ThunderClan?”

      Sandstorm inclined her head. “She will be a warrior the Clan can be proud of,” she replied.

      Firestar raised his eyes to where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear in the evening sky. “I, Firestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice.” The Clan was hushed as his voice rang out across the clearing. “She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn.” He turned to Sorrelpaw, locking his gaze with hers. “Sorrelpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

      Remembering how СКАЧАТЬ