Читаем Into The Wild полностью

Firepaw glanced over at the old she-cat. She was still lying beside the Highrock. Graypaw was right; she was glaring at him.

“Well, here goes,” he mewed. “Wish me luck!”

“You’ll need the whole of StarClan on your side for this one,” answered Graypaw. “Call out if you need a hand. If she looks like she’s going to have you, I’ll sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with a stiff rabbit.”

Firepaw purred with amusement and trotted off toward Yellowfang. His cheerfulness quickly evaporated as he neared the injured queen.

The old cat was clearly in a terrible mood. She hissed a warning and showed her teeth. “Stop right there, kittypet!”

Firepaw sighed. It seemed he was in for a fight. He was still hungry and beginning to feel tired. He longed to curl up in his nest for an afternoon nap. The last thing he wanted was to argue with this pitiful clump of fur and teeth. “You can call me what you like,” he mewed wearily. “I’m just following Bluestar’s orders.”

“You are a kittypet, though, aren’t you?” Yellowfang wheezed.

She’s tired too, Firepaw thought. There was less fire in her voice, although her spite was as strong as ever.

“I used to live with Twolegs when I was a kitten,” Firepaw replied calmly.

“Your mother a kittypet? Your father a kittypet?”

“Yes, they were.” Firepaw looked down at the ground, feeling resentment burn inside him. It was bad enough that members of his own Clan still viewed him as an outsider. He certainly didn’t have to answer to this foul-tempered prisoner.

Yellowfang seemed to take his silence as an invitation to go on. “Kittypet blood is not the same as warrior blood. Why don’t you run home to your Twolegs now instead of looking after me? It’s humiliating, being fussed over by a lowborn cat like you!”

Firepaw’s patience ran out. He snarled, “You’d still feel humiliated if I were warrior-born. You’d feel ashamed whether I was a precious she-cat from your own Clan or a wretched Twoleg that had picked you off the ground.” He lashed his tail from side to side. “It’s the fact that you need to rely on any cat that you find so humiliating!”

Yellowfang stared at him, her orange eyes very wide.

Firepaw carried on fiercely: “You’re just going to have to get used to being cared for until you are well enough to look after yourself, you spiteful old bone bag!”

He stopped as Yellowfang began to make a low, harsh, wheezing sound.

Alarmed, Firepaw took a step toward her. The she-cat was trembling all over and her eyes had narrowed into tiny slits. Was she having some kind of a fit?

“Look, I didn’t mean…” he began, before he suddenly realized that she was laughing!

“Mr-ow, ow-ow,” she mewled, a purr rumbling up from deep inside her chest.

Firepaw didn’t know what to do.

“You have spirit, kittypet,” Yellowfang croaked, stopping at last. “Now, I’m tired and my leg hurts. I need sleep and something to put on this wound. Go and find that pretty little medicine cat of yours and ask her for some herbs. I think you’ll find a goldenrod poultice would help. And, while you’re at it, I wouldn’t mind a few poppy seeds to chew on. The pain is killing me!”

Stunned by her change of mood, Firepaw turned quickly and sprinted toward Spottedleaf’s den.

He had never been in this part of the camp before. With his ears pricked, he padded through a cool green tunnel of ferns that led into a small grassy clearing. A tall rock stood at one side, split down the middle by a crack wide enough for a cat to make its den inside. Out of this opening trotted Spottedleaf. As usual, she looked bright-eyed and friendly, her dappled coat gleaming with a hundred shades of amber and brown.

Firepaw shyly mewed a greeting, and reeled off Yellowfang’s list of herbs and seeds.

“I’ve got most of those in my den,” replied Spottedleaf. “I’ll fetch some marigold leaves too. If she dresses her wound with that, it’ll keep off any infection. Wait here.”

“Thanks,” Firepaw mewed as the medicine cat disappeared back into her den. He strained his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of her inside. But the den was too dark to see anything; he could only hear the sound of rustling and smell the heady scents of unfamiliar herbs.

Spottedleaf emerged from the gloom and dropped a bundle folded in leaves by Firepaw’s feet. “Tell Yellowfang to go easy on the poppy seeds. I don’t want her to deaden the pain entirely. A little pain can be useful, as it will help me judge how well she is healing.”

Firepaw nodded and picked up the herbs with his teeth. “Thanks, Spottedleaf!” he mewed through the mouthful of leaves, then headed back through the fern tunnel into the main clearing.

Tigerclaw was sitting outside the warriors’ den, watching him closely. As Firepaw trotted over to Yellowfang, carrying the herbs, he could feel the amber-eyed stare burning the fur on the back of his neck. He turned his head and looked at Tigerclaw curiously. The warrior narrowed his eyes and looked away.

Firepaw dropped the bundle beside Yellowfang.