410j: переводы

→The two kits obeyed him, their fur still rumpled and sticking up here and there. Firestar reached out with his tail and touched Cherrykit on the shoulder. “From this time forward,” he announced, “this kit will be known as Cherrypaw. Foxleap, you have shown courage and perseverance in serving your Clan, and I trust that you will pass on these qualities to your apprentice.”

→Firestar looked on for a moment with a purr of amusement, then beckoned the two kits with a wave of his tail. “They’re fine,” he meowed. “Come over here and stand in front of me.”

→Horror clawed at Ivypool’s belly. My father never used to be so battle-hungry, she thought. The Dark Forest is changing him!

→“We’ll settle this later!” Birchfall meowed over his shoulder.

→Ivypool felt even more uneasy as she and Birchfall crossed the ThunderClan scent marks and stepped into the unfamiliar forest. The ground here was uneven, the hollows filled with damp, decaying leaves; rocks poked up out of the tussocky grass. The trees grew close together, the branches arching overhead to cut out the light. Ivypool shivered, convinced that she was being watched, though when she spun around she couldn’t see any gleam of eyes peering out from the undergrowth or the branches above.

→Birchfall twitched his ears. “I didn’t think anything scared you, Ivypool.”

→“You scared me out of my fur!” she gasped.

→She jumped, startled, as she heard the pawsteps of another cat approaching behind her. Glancing around, she saw her father, Birchfall, who padded up and dropped a squirrel onto the fresh-kill pile.

→“You found some!” Briarlight exclaimed, pulling herself across the den to plunge her nose into the aromatic stems. “I’ll sort them out and store them right away.”

→“You’re both a long way from fine,” Whitewing pointed out. After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “I know there’s something troubling you. I’m not going to ask what it is, if you don’t want to tell me. But remember that I’m your mother. Nothing you say could ever shock me or make me love you less.”

→“No way!” Ivypool shook her head. “Don’t think like that!”

→“I keep hoping that,” Dovewing muttered. “But it’s been a moon. I feel like I’m useless to the Clan.”

→“No, we’re fine,” Dovewing meowed, straightening her shoulders and raising her head in an effort to look alert. “We should keep going. There’s a good moss place a bit farther on.”

→Ivypool could hear anxiety in her mother’s voice. I know she cares about us, even though she’s concerned that we’re falling behind with our duties.

→“Let’s rest for a bit,” Whitewing suggested, more sympathetic now. “You can have a drink and finish grooming.”

→Glancing at her sister, Ivypool saw that she looked just as exhausted. Jayfeather should never have taken Dovewing to the mountains, she thought with a stab of anger. It could have been her that the eagle carried off, and she’s too important to the Clan to risk losing.

→The night before, she had taken part in a tough training session with Sunstrike and Redwillow. Hawkfrost had been supervising, not letting up until all three cats bore the marks of their opponents’ claws. Now Ivypool felt as if her body were nothing but a huge bruise, and one ear was still ringing from a well-aimed blow.

→Ivypool followed Whitewing until they stopped beside a tiny stream, not far from the camp. Leaves clustered thickly on the trees and the newleaf grass was long and lush, cool for Ivypool’s tired paws. Thank StarClan! She puffed out a breath of relief. Every hair on my pelt is aching.

→Jayfeather’s dream dissolved into darkness as he woke and stretched his jaws in a massive yawn. His whole body seemed heavy, and when he sat up in his nest he felt as though ivy tendrils were wrapped around him, dragging him back to the ground. The air was hotter than usual for late newleaf, filled with the scents of prey and lush green growth. Noise filtered through the brambles that screened the medicine cat’s den from the rest of the stone hollow: pawsteps and the excited murmuring of many cats as they gathered for the first patrols of the day.
But Jayfeather couldn’t share his Clanmates’ excitement. Although a moon had passed since he and his companions had returned from their visit to the Tribe, he felt cold and bleak inside. His head was full of images of mountains, endless snow-covered peaks stretching into the distance, outlined crisply against an ice-blue sky. His belly cramped with pain as he recalled one particular image: a white cat with green eyes who gave him a long, sorrowful look before she turned away and padded along a cliff top above a thundering waterfall.
Jayfeather shook his head. What’s the matter with me? That was all a long, long time ago. My life has always been here with the Clans. So why do I feel as if something has been lost?
“Hi, Jayfeather.” Briarlight’s voice had a muffled, echoing sound, and Jayfeather realized she must have her head inside the cleft where he stored his herbs. “You’re awake at last.”
Jayfeather replied with a grunt. Briarlight was another of his problems. He couldn’t forget what Lionblaze had told him when he returned to the mountains: how Briarlight was so frustrated by being confined to the hollow, trapped by her damaged hindlegs, that she’d persuaded her brother Bumblestripe to carry her into the forest to look for herbs.
“There was a dog running loose,” Lionblaze had told him. “A cat with four functioning legs would have been hard-pressed to outrun it. If it hadn’t been for me and Toadstep luring it away, Briarlight would have been torn to pieces.”
“Mouse-brain!” Jayfeather snapped. “Why would she put herself in danger like that?”
“Because she’s convinced that she’s useless,” Lionblaze explained. “Can’t you give her more to do? Cinderheart and I promised her we’d help her find a proper part to play in the life of the Clan.”
“You had no right to promise her anything without speaking to me first,” Jayfeather retorted. “Are you suggesting I take her as my apprentice? Because I don’t want an apprentice!”
“That’s not what I meant,” Lionblaze meowed, his tail-tip twitching in annoyance. “But you could find more interesting duties for her, couldn’t you?”
Still reluctant, Jayfeather had done as his brother asked. He had to admit that Briarlight was easy to teach. She had been stuck in the medicine cat’s den for so long that she had already picked up a lot.
She’s actually useful, he mused. Her paws are neat and quick when she sorts the herbs, and she’s good at soaking wilted leaves in the pool without letting them fall to pieces.
“Jayfeather?” Briarlight’s voice roused Jayfeather from his thoughts. He heard her wriggling around, and then her voice came more clearly as if she was poking her head out of the cleft. “Are you okay? You were tossing and turning all night.”
“I’m fine,” Jayfeather muttered, unwilling to dwell any longer on the dreams that had plagued him.
“We’re running low on marigold,” Briarlight went on. “We used up a lot on Dovewing’s scratches when you got back from the mountains. Should I ask Brightheart to collect some more?”
“No, I’ll go,” Jayfeather muttered.
“Fine.” Briarlight’s voice was determinedly cheerful. “I’ll get on with sorting the herbs. Oh, one more thing . . .”
Jayfeather heard the young she-cat dragging herself across the floor of the den until she reached his nest and pushed something toward him. “Could you throw this out on your way past the dirtplace?” she asked. “It was stuck at the back of the herb store.”
Jayfeather stretched out his neck until his nose touched a tuft of fur with a few dried scraps of leaf dusted on it. He stiffened as he recognized the faint scent that clung to it.
“Who would have put an old bit of fur among the herbs?” Briarlight continued. “It must have been in there for ages. I don’t recognize the scent or color.”
For a moment Jayfeather didn’t reply. He breathed in his lost sister’s scent, overwhelmed by longing for the time when he and Hollyleaf and Lionblaze had played and trained together, before they knew anything about the prophecy, before they learned how Squirrelflight and Leafpool had lied to them.
I don’t know how Hollyleaf’s fur got into the store, he thought, but I should have thrown it out when I first found it there, not left it for another cat to find.
“I wonder where it came from,” Briarlight meowed. “Maybe a cat from another Clan got in here to steal herbs.” She stifled a mrrow of laughter. “Maybe the kits got in and hid it.”
“How would I know?” Jayfeather snapped, irritated at being jerked out of his memories. “You should stop letting your imagination run away with you.”
Turning so that Briarlight couldn’t see what he was doing, he tucked the scrap of fur deep inside the moss of his nest, and rose to his paws. “I’m going to fetch that marigold,” he mewed, and headed out of the den.
Before he had taken half a dozen pawsteps into the clearing, Bumblestripe’s scent washed over him as the young tom bounded up. “I was coming to see you,” Bumblestripe blurted out. “I’m really worried about Dovewing.”
“Why? What’s the matter? Her scratches have healed, haven’t they?”
“It’s not that. She keeps having bad dreams—she had another one last night. She woke up screeching, and she was muttering about giant birds and snow.”
Jayfeather struggled to suppress a stab of impatience. I know how bad it must have been, watching Swoop carried off by the eagle. But Dovewing has to be stronger than this.
“How do you know about it?” he asked Bumblestripe.
“There’s a leak in the warriors’ den right above my nest,” the young tom replied. “And there’s no more room in there, so I thought I’d spend a few nights in the apprentices’ den with Dovewing and Ivypool. And every night Dovewing has these awful dreams. Are there any herbs that can help her?”
Jayfeather picked up waves of deep anxiety rolling off Bumblestripe. “There are no herbs that can take away memories,” he meowed. “You just have to learn to live with them.” Don’t we all? he added silently.
“But—” Bumblestripe began.
Brambleclaw’s voice rang out across the clearing, cutting across his protest. “Hey, Bumblestripe! You’re supposed to be on hunting patrol. Sorreltail’s waiting.”
“Okay!” Bumblestripe called back. “Coming! Bye, Jayfeather!” He bounded away.
Jayfeather headed toward the apprentices’ den, where Dovewing and Ivypool were sleeping since the warriors’ den was so crowded, only to halt when he realized that Brambleclaw had gotten there ahead of him.
“Ivypool, Dovewing, wake up!” the ThunderClan deputy yowled, sticking his head into the den. “You’ve overslept again.”
Jayfeather heard muffled mews of protest; a couple of heartbeats later the two she-cats staggered into the open.
“You look dreadful!” Brambleclaw meowed, annoyance in his tone. “I’ve never seen such messy fur! Have you been hunting at night?”
Though Jayfeather couldn’t see them, his twitching nose picked up dusty, ruffled fur, and he could sense echoes of fear coming from both cats. He knew very well why their sleep had been disturbed. Bumblestripe had just told him about Dovewing’s troubled dreams, while each night Ivypool was visiting the Dark Forest, training with the cats who had been spurned by StarClan.
I wish she’d tell me more about what happens there, Jayfeather thought. But no—she just says that she’ll let me know when there’s anything important to report.
“Why don’t I check them out in my den?” he suggested to Brambleclaw, hoping for the chance to get some information out of the two she-cats in private. “Maybe they’re coming down with something . . .”
Jayfeather’s voice trailed off as he realized that no cat was listening to him. As he was speaking, the swift patter of paws announced the arrival of Whitewing.
“Brambleclaw, don’t get angry with them!” she meowed. “They’re working so hard, now that we don’t have any apprentices.” She paused, then added, “I’ll help them with their duties today.”
“I need you to go on border patrol,” Brambleclaw told her.
“And I need to stay here with my daughters,” Whitewing retorted. “Some other cat can go on border patrol instead of me.”
Brambleclaw gave a disapproving sniff. “Fine,” he muttered, and stalked away.
“Now, tidy yourselves up,” Whitewing went on, rasping her tongue busily over Ivypool’s ears.
“Get off me!” Ivypool protested. “I’m not a kit!”
“You’ll always be my kit,” Whitewing told her, turning to give the same brisk licks to Dovewing, who jumped back and exclaimed, “Stop! I’m a warrior! I can do my own fur!”
“Then prove it. We need to fetch moss for the elders’ bedding,” Whitewing went on as her daughters gave themselves a quick grooming. “And for StarClan’s sake make sure there are no thorns in Purdy’s, or we’ll never hear the end of it. Come on!”
She bustled them toward the camp entrance, but before they reached the thorn tunnel Firestar appeared at the head of the dawn patrol. Jayfeather’s nose was flooded with the scents of his Clanmates. Brambleclaw bounded across the clearing to meet them, with Dustpelt, Cloudtail, and Brightheart hard on his paws. Foxleap raised his head from the fresh-kill pile, a mouse dangling from his jaws, while Berrynose strode importantly up to the patrol, followed more slowly by Leafpool and Squirrelflight.
Molekit and Cherrykit burst out of the nursery, scampered out into the clearing, and hurled themselves at Berrynose’s paws, tripping him.
“Careful!” he murmured, recovering his balance and sweeping his tail around the two excited kits.
Berrynose can be a real pain in the tail, Jayfeather pondered. How come he’s such a good father?
“Is ShadowClan attacking?” Molekit squeaked. “Can we go and fight?”
“I’ve learned a really good move!” Cherrykit exclaimed, pouncing on a leaf and shredding it with her tiny claws.
“Of course you can’t fight!” Poppyfrost panted as she caught up to her kits. “You’re not even apprentices yet!”
Brambleclaw skirted the kits and halted in front of his Clan leader. “Any news?” he asked.
“No, everything’s quiet,” Firestar responded as Jayfeather padded over to listen. “It looks as if all the Clans are at peace with one another.”
“Right,” Thornclaw agreed; the tabby tom had followed Firestar into the camp. “There was no evidence that either WindClan or ShadowClan had been anywhere near the borders, except to renew the scent markers.”
“That’s good news!” Brightheart exclaimed.
Jayfeather wasn’t so sure. He knew that the Clans were keeping to themselves because of the deep divisions within StarClan along Clan boundaries. All the warrior ancestors were warning every cat to stay apart from the other Clans, to trust none but their Clanmates, and prepare for something dreadful that lay in the future like storm clouds on the horizon.
At least ThunderClan has the three cats mentioned in the prophecy, Jayfeather thought. There will be three, kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. Me, Lionblaze, and Dovewing, all in the same Clan. That must make us safer, right?
He flexed his paws. After his sleepless night they didn’t feel particularly powerful, but at least they would carry him as far as the patch of marigold above the hollow. Then he remembered the other prophecy, from the Tribe of Endless Hunting barely half a moon before. For a moment Jayfeather was plunged back to that dark, windswept mountaintop, surrounded by dead cats who fixed their luminous eyes on him. Once again he seemed to hear the whispers of a long, long line of Stonetellers.
The end of the stars draws near. Three must become four to challenge the darkness that lasts forever.
Rousing from the trance, Jayfeather was once more aware of the sounds and scents of the camp around him.
How are we going to recognize the fourth cat? We had enough problems finding the first three. And this new prophecy says nothing about Firestar’s kin. Jayfeather bit back a hiss of frustration. It could be any cat from the Clans!