SUNSET. Эрин Хантер

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      “Goodbye,” Brambleclaw murmured, touching his nose to Cinderpelt’s fur. “StarClan will honour you.”

      “We’ll miss you,” Squirrelflight added. “And we’ll never forget you.”

      Brambleclaw would have liked to crouch beside the dead medicine cat and keep a proper vigil for her, but there was too much to do. He padded across to Firestar, who was still in the centre of the camp with Stormfur, Brook, and Midnight.

      “I think we should start on the warriors’ den,” he meowed.

      Midnight dipped her head to Firestar. “I go now,” she announced. “By night is travel well.”

      “But you must be as tired as the rest of us,” Firestar protested. “Stay until you have slept for a while.”

      Midnight’s white-striped head swung around as she surveyed the shattered camp. “No more here for me to do. I go back to sea cave, hear beating of waves on shore, rustle of wind in grasses.”

      “ThunderClan would have been destroyed if you hadn’t brought WindClan to help us. We can never thank you enough.”

      “No need is thanks. Too late warning come. My kin not hear talk of peace.”

      “But why?” Brook asked, her eyes wide with distress. “In the mountains, we’ve never had trouble with badgers. Are they like Sharptooth, wanting to kill cats for their prey?”

      Midnight shook her head. “My kin not eat cats. But cats drive them from territory, first from RiverClan on other side of lake, then from here. Revenge they want, and take territory back.”

      “I remember Hawkfrost reporting that at the Gathering,” Firestar meowed. “He was the RiverClan warrior who drove the badger out.”

      Brambleclaw drew a sharp breath, ready to defend his half-brother. Were his Clanmates going to blame Hawkfrost for the badger attack?

      “We drove a badger out of our territory too,” Squirrelflight pointed out. “With her kits. And to think I felt sorry for her!”

      “I wonder if that means they’ll come back,” Firestar murmured thoughtfully. “The patrols will have to keep a sharp lookout.”

      “I also,” Midnight added. “When know anything, I come, or send word. But now I go, say farewell to cat friends.”

      “Goodbye, Midnight,” mewed Stormfur. “It was good to see you again.”

      Midnight’s small eyes rested on him for a moment. “Spirits watch over you,” she told Stormfur. “StarClan and Tribe of Endless Hunting also. Hard the path you walk, but not finished yet.”

      The grey warrior dipped his head. “Thank you, Midnight.”

      “I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Brambleclaw meowed to Midnight. With a glance at his Clan leader, he added, “Couldn’t you make a set in the woods here and stay with us?”

      “Please!” Squirrelflight urged.

      The old badger shook her head, her eyes deep with wisdom. “This not my place,” she warned. “But StarClan may lead us meet again.”

      “I hope so,” meowed Brambleclaw.

      “Then it’s goodbye.” Firestar lowered his head to Midnight in the deepest respect. “ThunderClan will always honour you.” He escorted her to the entrance, as if he didn’t want to see her go either. Dustpelt and Sandstorm, gathering up the thorns from the damaged entrance barrier, stopped work briefly to add their own farewells.

      With Squirrelflight and Stormfur beside him, Bramble claw watched Midnight leave the hollow, her broad, flat paws tramping across the remains of the thorn barrier. For the second time now, ThunderClan had needed Midnight’s help to survive. How could they be safe when she was so far away, at the sun-drown-place? Brambleclaw wasn’t even sure he could find the sandy cliff again.

      I must go on, he told himself. I’d give my last breath to help my Clan, and ThunderClan needs me now more than they ever have before.

      Stormfur turned away from the dark forest where the badger had disappeared. “Right,” he meowed, “what needs doing next?”

      “I think every cat has been accounted for, and Leafpool and Brightheart are taking care of the injuries. But we all need to rest and recover,” Brambleclaw meowed. “That means we need to sort out places to sleep. And do something about fresh-kill.”

      “Brook and I will hunt for the Clan in the morning,” Stormfur promised. “For now, I’ll work on the warriors’ den. Where is it?”

      Good question, thought Brambleclaw. He pointed with his tail at the trampled thorn tree beneath the far wall of the hollow. “Over there,” he meowed. The branches had been dense and low-growing, providing good protection against the cold winds and rain of leaf-bare. But the badgers had broken through the canopy to get at cats trying to shelter inside, and it didn’t look much like a den now.

      Stormfur blinked. “OK, I’ll get started.” He bounded off in the direction Brambleclaw had pointed.

      “Brook, you could check on the elders,” Squirrelflight suggested. “Their den’s under that twisted hazel over there. Come and find me if you need any help.”

      Brook nodded and bounded off into the shadows.

      Brambleclaw was about to follow Stormfur when Ashfur padded up. “Are you going to sit vigil for Sootfur and Cinderpelt?” he asked Squirrelflight.

      “You go ahead,” Squirrelflight mewed. “I want to help rebuild the dens right now, but I’ll try to sit with them later. Cinderpelt and Sootfur would understand.”

      Ashfur blinked at her with hurt in his blue eyes, as if he was taking her refusal personally. “OK, I’ll see you later, then.” He padded off and settled down beside the other cats circled around the two still bodies.

      Squirrelflight flicked her tail lightly over Brambleclaw’s ears. “Don’t you think you should go to Leafpool’s den and get those scratches looked at?”

      In spite of everything that had happened, the expression in Squirrelflight’s eyes made something in Brambleclaw’s heart purr like a kit. “Not yet,” he told her. “Leafpool has enough to do, and there are plenty of cats hurt worse than me. I’ll help Stormfur with the warriors’ den. Every cat is exhausted, and it’ll be dawn soon.”

      “Then I’ll do something about fresh-kill. The pile must have been scattered, but the badgers wouldn’t have had time to eat our prey. I might be able to salvage enough to keep us going until we can send out hunting patrols. If I find anything fit to eat, I’ll bring you some.”

      “Thanks.” Brambleclaw watched the ginger warrior as she padded across the clearing, then made his way to the remains of the warriors’ den. Every muscle in his body was aching, the scratch on his shoulder throbbed, and he felt almost too tired to put one paw in front of another. But his Clanmates needed him. He had to find the strength to help them.

      The thorn tree where the warriors had made their den grew close to the highest СКАЧАТЬ