Читаем Bluestar's Prophecy полностью

The growl rumbled on in Sunfall’s throat, but Heatherstar ignored it. “The prey is running well despite the snow.”

Bluepaw narrowed her eyes. The WindClan leader’s pelt was well groomed, but it clung to her small frame, outlining the bones beneath.

“The Clan is well fed.”

She’s lying.

Adderfang snarled. “I suppose that’s why you’ve stopped hunting on our territory?” He stared at Heatherstar. Bluepaw stiffened. He was challenging her to admit that it was the battle that had warned WindClan off.

“We never hunted on your land,” Heatherstar spat. “Stop trying to justify your cowardly attack!”

Bluepaw felt pelts bristle around her as growls rippled through all the Clans. Adderfang flattened his ears. He was clearly itching for a fight. And by the dark murmuring from the other Clans, so were they. Empty bellies had made everyone angry and restless. The cats shifted where they sat, and the frosty air seemed to crackle with their frustration.

“Our attack was not unprovoked!” Stormtail growled.

“You destroyed a Clan’s medicine supplies!”

A dark tabby tom, his yellow eyes blazing, was staring at Stormtail from among the ShadowClan warriors. Bluepaw glanced anxiously up at the leaders. How would they stop the rising tide of rage that seemed to be flooding the hollow? Heatherstar blinked and stepped back from the edge. Cedarstar watched the cats through narrowed eyes while Pinestar and Hailstar shifted their paws. It seemed that no one wanted to be the first to show weakness by trying to soothe ruffled pelts. Alarm shot through Bluepaw, and her fur lifted along her spine.

“Great StarClan! It’s cold!” Crookedpaw pressed against her. Bluepaw flinched, looking around to see if any of their Clanmates were glaring at them for getting so close. But every cat was focused on the Great Rock, watching to see what the leaders would do next. Bluepaw relaxed. The warmth of Crookedpaw’s pelt and the breeziness of his mew smoothed her fur. She was being too sensitive.

Pinestar stepped forward. “ThunderClan is thriving despite the snow,” he announced. “We have two new apprentices, Lionpaw and Goldenpaw.”

Goldenpaw ducked shyly between her Clanmates, while Lionpaw stretched his head as if trying to match Swiftbreeze in height. His eyes shone with pride, but when the other Clans did not turn to look or congratulate him, he hunched beside his mentor, crestfallen.

“We also have two new warriors,” Pinestar carried on. “Leopardfoot and Patchpelt!” The Clans held their chilly silence. How could they be so petty? They all knew how important becoming a warrior was!

“Our young warriors and apprentices are making good progress in their training, and our elders are well fed.” Pinestar spoke as if he hadn’t noticed the other Clans’ coldness.

Bluepaw glanced self-consciously at Crookedpaw, uncomfortable with Pinestar’s lie as she remembered Weedwhisker’s shrunken belly. But Crookedpaw was busy staring up at the Great Rock as his leader took Pinestar’s place.

Hailstar lifted his muzzle. “RiverClan has been free from Twolegs since the snows came.”

Murmurs of satisfaction rippled through the RiverClan cats.

“Except for those Twoleg kits!” Ottersplash called from the back.

Owlfur answered his Clanmate. “They won’t be back for a while!”

Crookedpaw purred beside Bluepaw. “That’ll teach them to slide on the ice!”

Bluepaw gasped. “Did they fall in?” The thought of plunging through ice into dark, freezing water made her tremble.

“They only got their paws wet,” Crookedpaw told her. “Mouse-brains! Every RiverClan kit knows to stay off the ice unless a warrior has tested it first.”

Hailstar flicked his tail. “Fishing is good despite the ice.” His gaze scanned his Clan, then settled on one cat. “And we have one new warrior. Welcome, Oakheart!”

WindClan and ShadowClan cheered.

How dare they? Anger shot through Bluepaw. Patchpelt stared silently ahead, his shoulders stiff. Leopardfoot was scowling over her shoulder at the new RiverClan warrior.

“That’s my brother.”

Crookedpaw’s mew surprised Bluepaw.

“Who?”

“Oakheart,” Crookedpaw explained. “He’s my littermate.”

Bluepaw stretched up on her hind legs to get a better view of the tom, but could see only the reddish-brown tips of his ears.

“He’s great,” Crookedpaw purred. “He caught a fish on his first day as an apprentice.”

I caught a squirrel. Bluepaw found herself competing.

“He says that when he becomes leader, he’ll make me deputy.”

How modest! “I have a sister,” Bluepaw announced. She nodded toward Snowpaw, who was sitting beside Sparrowpelt, a tail-length away. “She’s a brilliant hunter, too.”

“Maybe if they both became leader we could be deputies together,” Crookedpaw mewed.

Deputy? What was the point of being deputy? “I want to be the leader!”

Crookedpaw looked at her in surprise, then broke into a purr. “Of course.”

Bluepaw jumped as Dappletail’s paw flicked her ear and then Crookedpaw’s.