Rising Storm полностью

“Okay.” Cloudpaw shrugged and began racing halfheartedly toward him. His round belly slowed him down, making his small paws sink deep into the sand. Fireheart had plenty of time to prepare himself so that when Cloudpaw finally reached him, it was easy to dodge to one side and send the young apprentice rolling into the dust.

Cloudpaw clambered to his paws and shook himself, sneezing as the dust tickled his nostrils.

“Too slow,” Fireheart told him. “Try again.”

Cloudpaw crouched down, breathing hard, and narrowed his eyes. Fireheart stared back, impressed by the intensity of Cloudpaw’s gaze—this time the apprentice looked as if he were actually thinking about the attack. Cloudpaw leaped and flew at Fireheart, twisting as he landed so that he could kick Fireheart with his hind legs.

Fireheart staggered but managed to keep his balance and send Cloudpaw flying with a swipe from his front paw. “Better,” he puffed. “But you’re not prepared for the counterstrike.”

Cloudpaw lay unmoving in the sand.

“Cloudpaw?” Fireheart meowed. The blow from his front paw had been heavy, but surely not enough to hurt. The apprentice’s ear twitched but he stayed where he was.

Fireheart padded over to him, his fur suddenly prickling with worry. He peered down and saw that Cloudpaw’s eyes were wide open.

“You’ve killed me.” The apprentice gasped mockingly, and rolled feebly onto his back.

Fireheart snorted. “Stop messing around,” he snapped. “This is serious!”

“Okay, okay.” Cloudpaw struggled to his paws, still panting. “But I’m hungry now. Can we go hunting?”

Fireheart opened his mouth to argue. Then he remembered Whitestorm’s words: He’ll learn when he’s ready. Perhaps it was better to let Cloudpaw train at his own pace after all. So far arguing had been a complete waste of time.

“Come on then.” Fireheart sighed and led Cloudpaw out of the training hollow.

As they trekked along the bottom of the ravine into the forest, Cloudpaw stopped and sniffed the air. “I smell rabbit,” he mewed. Fireheart lifted his nose. The apprentice was right.

“Over there,” whispered Cloudpaw.

A bright flicker in the bushes betrayed the white tail of a young rabbit. Fireheart dropped low against the ground. He tensed his muscles, ready to give chase. Beside him Cloudpaw dropped too, his belly bulging out sideways as he crouched. The rabbit’s tail flickered again and Cloudpaw dashed toward it, his paws thudding heavily on the dry forest floor. The rabbit heard the noise at once and shot away into the undergrowth. Cloudpaw crashed after it while Fireheart followed on silent paws. The ferns trembled where Cloudpaw had charged through them, and Fireheart felt a stab of disappointment as Cloudpaw skidded, panting, to a halt ahead of him. The rabbit had disappeared.

“You hunted better than that when you were a kit!” Fireheart exclaimed. His sister’s kit had once had the makings of a fine warrior, but the fluffy white apprentice seemed to be turning as soft as a kittypet. “Only StarClan knows how you got so fat with a hunting technique like that. Even a fit cat can’t outrun a rabbit. You need to be much lighter on your paws if you want to catch one!” He was thankful Sandstorm hadn’t come with them. He would have been embarrassed if she had seen what a poor hunter his apprentice had become.

For once Cloudpaw didn’t argue. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy for the young cat. It did look as if Cloudpaw had been trying his best this time, and he couldn’t help feeling that he’d let his apprentice down by neglecting his training lately.

“Why don’t I just go hunting by myself?” Cloudpaw suggested, looking down at his paws. “I promise I’ll bring something back for the fresh-kill pile.”

Fireheart studied him for a moment. Cloudpaw couldn’t be such a poor hunter all the time, because he was looking more well fed than any of the cats in the Clan. Perhaps he fared better when he wasn’t being watched. In a flash, Fireheart decided to follow his apprentice without him knowing and watch him hunt. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Just make sure you’re back by mealtime.”

Cloudpaw brightened instantly. “Of course,” he meowed. “I won’t be late; I promise.” Fireheart heard the apprentice’s belly growl with hunger. Perhaps that will sharpen his skills, he thought.

As he listened to Cloudpaw’s pawsteps fade away into the forest, he felt a flicker of guilt at the thought of spying on him. But he was only going to assess his apprentice’s skills, he reminded himself, as any mentor would.

Tracking Cloudpaw through Tallpines was easy. The undergrowth was sparse beneath the shade of the towering pine trees, and Fireheart could see his apprentice’s snowy pelt from a long way off. The woods here were alive with small birds, and he kept expecting Cloudpaw to stop and take advantage of the rich offerings.