Rising Storm полностью

Fireheart turned back to the trembling captives. “What are you doing in ThunderClan territory?” he asked. “Littlecloud, why are you here?”

The tabby tom stared up at Fireheart with round, frightened eyes, and Fireheart felt a stab of sympathy. The cat looked as lost and helpless as he’d been at that first Gathering, when he was a barely weaned kit.

“W-Whitethroat and I came here h-hoping you’d give us food and healing herbs,” Littlecloud stammered at last.

Hisses of disbelief rose from the ThunderClan cats, and Littlecloud shrank back, pressing his scrawny body against the earth.

Fireheart stared at the prisoner in amazement. Since when did ShadowClan cats seek help from their bitterest enemy?

“Fireheart, wait.” The voice of Cinderpelt sounded softly in Fireheart’s ear. She was studying the two ShadowClan cats with narrowed eyes. “These cats are no threat to us. They are sick.” She limped forward and touched Littlecloud’s forepaw gently with her nose. “His pad is warm,” she mewed. “He has a fever.”

Cinderpelt was about to sniff the second cat’s paw when Yellowfang forced her way through the throng of cats. “No, Cinderpelt!” she screeched. “Get away from them!”

Cinderpelt leaped around. “Why? These cats are sick. We must help them!” She twisted her head, looking pleadingly first at Fireheart, then at Bluestar.

Every cat turned expectantly to Bluestar, but the ThunderClan leader just stared, huge-eyed, at the captives. Fireheart could see the old gray she-cat struggling with bewilderment and fear, her eyes clouded with confusion. He realized he had to distract the cats’ attention while the troubled leader gathered her thoughts.

“Why us? What made you come to our territory?” he asked the two prisoners again.

The other ShadowClan cat, Whitethroat, spoke this time. He was a black tom with paws and a chest that used to be white but were now stained with dust. “You helped ShadowClan before, when we drove out Brokentail,” he explained quietly.

But ThunderClan also gave sanctuary to the ShadowClan leader, Fireheart thought with a ripple of unease. Had Whitethroat forgotten that? Then he realized that Brokentail had forced these cats into their apprenticeships when they were barely old enough to leave their mothers’ sides. Banishing their cruel leader must have come as such a relief that what had happened to him afterward paled into insignificance. And now that Brokentail was dead, there was no threat to the ShadowClan warriors from the ThunderClan camp beyond normal Clan rivalry.

Whitethroat went on: “We hoped you would be able to help us now. Nightstar is sick. The camp is in chaos with so many cats ill. There are not enough herbs or fresh-kill to go around.”

“What’s Runningnose doing? He’s your medicine cat. It’s up to him to tend to you!” spat Yellowfang, before Fireheart could say anything.

Fireheart was taken aback by her tone. Yellowfang had once belonged to ShadowClan. Even though Fireheart knew her loyalties lay with ThunderClan now, he was surprised at her lack of compassion toward her former Clanmates.

“Nightstar seemed all right at the Gathering last night,” Darkstripe growled.

“Yes,” agreed Bluestar, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

But Fireheart remembered how frail the ShadowClan leader had seemed, and he was not surprised when Littlecloud mewed, “He got worse when he returned to the camp. Runningnose was with him all night. He won’t leave Nightstar’s side. He let a kit die at its mother’s belly without even a poppy seed to ease its journey to StarClan! We are afraid that he’ll let us die too. Please help us!”

Littlecloud’s plea sounded real enough to Fireheart. He looked hopefully at Bluestar, but her blue eyes still looked bewildered.

“They must leave,” insisted Yellowfang in a low growl.

“Why?” Fireheart blurted out. “They’re no threat to us in this state!”

“They carry a disease I’ve seen before in ShadowClan.” Yellowfang began to circle the ShadowClan cats, studying them but keeping her distance. “It killed many cats last time.”

“It’s not greencough, is it?” Fireheart asked. Some of the ThunderClan cats began to edge slowly backward as Fireheart mentioned the sickness that had ravaged their own Clan during leaf-bare.

“No. It has no name,” Yellowfang muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on the captives. “It comes from the rats that live on a Twoleg dump on the far side of ShadowClan territory.” She glared at Littlecloud. “Surely the elders know those Twoleg rats carry sickness, and must never be taken as prey?”

“An apprentice brought the rat back,” explained Littlecloud. “He was too young to remember.”

Fireheart listened to the sick cat’s labored breathing as the ThunderClan cats looked on in silence. “What should we do?” he asked Bluestar.