MOONRISE. Эрин Хантер

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      “Wait! Where are you going?” Brambleclaw called after him, but the WindClan apprentice was gone. The tabby warrior’s tail lashed irritably. “Does he ever listen?”

      “He won’t be long,” Feathertail soothed him. “You could hardly expect him to ignore a rabbit when it pops up right under our noses.”

      Brambleclaw’s only reply was another swish of his tail.

      “I’ll fetch him back,” Stormfur meowed, bunching his muscles to spring in pursuit.

      Before he could move, the dark grey apprentice reappeared at the top of the rise. He was dragging the rabbit with him; it was almost as big as he was.

      “Here,” he meowed ungraciously as he dumped it on the ground. “That didn’t take long, did it? I suppose we’re allowed to stop and eat it?”

      “Of course,” Brambleclaw replied. “Sorry, Crowpaw. I’d forgotten how fast WindClan cats can be. This . . . this moorland must feel like home to you.”

      Crowpaw acknowledged the apology with a curt nod as all six cats crowded around the fresh-kill. Stormfur stopped short when he noticed a glow of admiration in Feathertail’s eyes. Surely his sister couldn’t be interested in Crowpaw? All he ever did was argue and push himself forwards as if he were already a warrior. A cat from another Clan—and an apprentice at that!—had no right to start padding after Feathertail. And whatever did Feathertail see in him? Didn’t she know the problems this sort of thing could cause—hadn’t she learned that from their own parents?

      Then Stormfur’s gaze slid across to Squirrelpaw. Had he any right to criticise Feathertail, when he liked Squirrelpaw so much? But then, he told himself, any cat would like the brave, intelligent ThunderClan apprentice. And he knew better than to start something with a cat from another Clan, when they couldn’t possibly have a future together.

      Stormfur sighed and began gulping his share of the rabbit. He hoped he was imagining things; after all, any cat might admire Crowpaw’s speed in catching them prey when they were all hungry. Surely that was all Feathertail was feeling.

      While the cats ate, Midnight waited a few paces away. Stormfur saw her tearing at the moorland grass with her strong, blunt claws, snuffling up the grubs and beetles she disturbed. Her eyes were screwed up, as if she found it hard to search for food in the strong sunlight, but she said nothing, and as soon as the cats had eaten all they could of Crowpaw’s prey, she set off once more towards the rising sun.

      Even with Midnight to lead them by the most direct route, it was sunhigh by the time they reached the crest of a gentle hill and saw the edge of the woods in front of them. The shade underneath the trees looked as inviting as running water to Stormfur after travelling through the heat of the unprotected moorland. For one brief moment, he let himself imagine an afternoon of hunting, then settling down full-fed for a sleep under the arching fronds of bracken, but he knew there was no chance of that.

      As they drew closer to the woods, he spotted what looked like a heap of mottled brown fur in the long grass underneath a bush. His tail twitched in rueful recognition at the sight of the elderly tabby who had guided them—and nearly lost them forever—in the Twolegplace.

      “Hey, Purdy!” Brambleclaw called. “We’re back!”

      A large round head emerged from the bundle of fur, whiskers twitching and eyes blinking in confusion that gradually turned to welcome. The old cat scrambled to his paws and took a couple of paces towards them, shaking bits of dead leaf from his untidy pelt.

      “Great StarClan!” he exclaimed. “I never reckoned I’d see you again.” Suddenly he broke off, his eyes fixed on something over Stormfur’s shoulder. “Don’t move a whisker!” he hissed. “There’s a badger behind you. Just let me deal with it. I know a few fightin’ moves that—”

      “It’s OK, Purdy,” Stormfur interrupted, while Squirrel -paw’s tail curled up with amusement. “This is Midnight. She’s a friend.”

      The old tabby stared at Stormfur, his jaws gaping in astonishment. “A friend? You don’t make friends with a badger, young fellow. You can’t trust ‘em a single mouselength.”

      Stormfur gave Midnight an anxious look, wondering if the badger was offended by Purdy’s words. To his relief, she looked as amused as Squirrelpaw, her tiny black eyes gleaming.

      “Come and meet Purdy,” Stormfur mewed to her. “He guided us through Twolegplace.”

      Midnight plodded forwards until she stood in front of the old tabby tom. Unconvinced, Purdy crouched down with his neck fur bristling and his lips drawn back in a snarl to reveal snaggly teeth. Stormfur felt a twinge of admiration for his courage, even though the badger could have flattened him with one swat of her powerful front paws.

      “Here is not fight,” Midnight assured him. “Friend of my friends is my friend also. Much of you they have told me.”

      Purdy’s ears twitched. “Can’t say I’m pleased to meet you,” he muttered. “But I suppose you must be all right if they say so.” Backing away, he turned to Brambleclaw. “Why are we hangin’ around here?” he demanded. “There are Upwalkers and dogs all over the place. Say goodbye and let’s be on our way.”

      “Hang on!” Squirrelpaw protested loudly to Brambleclaw. “You said we could hunt.”

      “We can,” he mewed.

      He paused to taste the air; Stormfur did the same, and was relieved to find that although he could distinguish several different dog scents, they were all stale. He guessed that Purdy was using the danger of dogs as an excuse to get away from Midnight.

      “OK,” Brambleclaw went on, “let’s split up and hunt quickly. We’ll meet in that place where we camped last time. Tawnypelt, do you want to go straight there?”

      The ShadowClan warrior’s eyes flashed as she replied, “No, I can hunt as well as any of you.”

      Before any of the cats could respond, Midnight padded up to her and gave her a gentle nudge. “Foolish warrior,” she rumbled. “Rest while able. Show me camping place. I will stay while sun is high, go home in dark.”

      Tawnypelt shrugged. “OK, Midnight.” She headed further into the woods, following the stream to the hollow where the cats had rested on the outward journey.

      The air was cooler in the dappled shade of the trees. Stormfur began to relax, feeling safer here than on the open moorland, though the chattering stream, too shallow for fish, was no substitute for the river he loved. A pang of loss stabbed through him at the thought that, even if he saw the river again, it would not be for long; Midnight had told them that the Clans would have to leave the forest as soon as the six cats returned.

      A rustle in the undergrowth reminded him of how hungry he was. It would be good to go off for a while and hunt with Feathertail, just as they did at home. But when he swung round to speak to his sister, he saw that Crowpaw was saying something in her ear.

      “Do you want to hunt with me?” the apprentice muttered, sounding half grudging, half embarrassed. “We’d do better together.”

      “That would be great!” Feathertail’s eyes shone; then she spotted Stormfur, and looked even more embarrassed than the WindClan cat. “Er—why don’t we all hunt together?”

      Crowpaw СКАЧАТЬ