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“Me.” Dovepaw stared boldly at him. “You promised you’d explain what you were doing in our territory.”

Tigerheart’s eyes grew wide. “Keep your voice down!” He glanced nervously around. “Follow me.” Creeping away, ears and tail lowered, he led her through the bramble thicket and into a small dip behind a cracked willow tree. Dovepaw blinked, her eyes adjusting to the shadows. The willow blocked out the moon and half of Silverpelt.

“Look,” Tigerheart whispered. “I can’t tell you exactly what I was doing, but we’re not planning an invasion, I promise.”

Dovepaw cocked her head. The young warrior was definitely up to something. “You were on my territory,” she reminded him. “I have a right to know why. And if you don’t tell me, I’m going to report you to Firestar!”

Tigerheart dropped his gaze. “You do have a right to know.” His mew was soft, apologetic. “But, please, I need you to trust me.” He raised his eyes and gazed into hers. They were round, almost black, and glittering with worry.

Dovepaw felt a rush of sympathy. The young tom was clearly torn. Something was bothering him. She nodded, distracted for a moment by the soft fur edging his face. He seemed desperate for her to understand. She curled her tail to touch the tip of his. He stiffened at her touch, but didn’t draw his tail away; instead, he leaned forward and rested his nose against her ear fur.

“Thank you.”

The warmth of his breath on her ear made her shiver. It smelled sweet, for a ShadowClan cat’s breath.

“Okay.” She made an effort to focus on the reason she’d wanted to talk to him. “But if something is threatening the forest, I need to know.”

“Nothing’s threatening the forest,” Tigerheart promised. “I would tell you if something were.” His eyes grew rounder until Dovepaw felt his gaze reaching into hers. “On the journey upstream, we were almost…friends.”

Dovepaw found herself nodding vigorously.

He sighed. “If we were in the same Clan it would be so easy…”

No! Dovepaw drew back, suddenly aware that she was leaning far too close to this handsome young ShadowClan warrior. She had to change the subject! “H-how did you get those scratches?” She stared at the fur on his shoulder, still clotted with blood. “That one looks nasty.”

Tigerheart sat back and shrugged. “Battle training.”

Dovepaw shuddered. Did ShadowClan warriors train with teeth and claws bared? “Has Littlecloud treated it? It may get infected.”

Tigerheart turned away so that his shoulder was hidden in shadow. “It’s not that bad, honest. It only hurts when I—” He broke off.

The bramble bush rustled.

Tigerheart crouched and flattened his ears. Dovepaw drew back into the deeply shadowed cleft between the roots of the willow tree.

“Blasted prickers.” It was an old mew, croaking with irritation. Dovepaw sniffed and smelled WindClan. It must be an elder looking for a quiet spot to make dirt.

Tigerheart scooted backward. “Got to go,” he murmured, and disappeared over the roots.

Dovepaw stared after him. Why was he acting so odd? Puzzled, she hopped out of the dip and onto a thick root. “It’s quiet over there!” she called to the grumbling WindClan elder, pointing with her tail to a clear spot a few tail-lengths farther into the woods.

The old cat dragged himself free of the brambles. “Now you tell me!” he rasped. “Once my ears have been shredded and half my pelt is hanging in this fox-toothed bush.”

Whiskers twitching, Dovepaw scooted back to join her Clan. Sandstorm saw her and nudged Whitewing.

“Dovepaw?” The white warrior was calling for her anxiously. “There you are!”

“I wasn’t far away.” Dovepaw weaved past Thornclaw and Graystripe, while Firestar circled his Clan, his shoulders rippling with tension. “What’s going on?”

“Blossompaw! Briarpaw! I’ve found her!” Whitewing called back the two apprentices who had been scooting around the edge of the clearing, sniffing the bushes. “Where were you?”

“Over there.” Dovepaw nodded vaguely toward the cracked willow. “Why isn’t anyone sharing tongues anymore?”

The Clans had separated and were eyeing one another warily.

Sandstorm flicked her tail. “WindClan and ShadowClan started fussing over boundaries again,” she huffed.

Ratscar paced around his Clanmates, his eyes burning in the moonlight as he glared at ThunderClan.

Breezepelt sat bolt upright, eyes slitted, his tail sweeping the ground behind him. “Borders are borders,” he growled at Lionblaze, who was staring back at the furious warrior.

“You share a mission with ThunderClan and they think they own the whole lake!” Crowfrost hissed.

Foxleap clawed at the ground. “But we saved the lake!”

“We all saved the lake!” Onestar hissed. “Cats from every Clan. So why are you crossing borders like you own us now?”

Darkness slid over the clearing. Dovepaw looked up. The clouds that had been bubbling on the horizon had begun to drift across the moon. Pale light still filtered through, but the wind was picking up and the thickening clouds were swallowing Silverpelt star by star.

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  Мир накрылся ядерным взрывом, и я вместе с ним. По идее я должен был погибнуть, но вдруг очнулся… Где? Темно перед глазами! Не видно ничего. Оп – видно! Я в собственном теле. Мне снова четырнадцать, на дворе начало девяностых. В холодильнике – маргарин «рама» и суп из сизых макарон, в телевизоре – «Санта-Барбара», сестра собирается ступить на скользкую дорожку, мать выгнали с работы за свой счет, а отец, который теперь младше меня-настоящего на восемь лет, завел другую семью. Казалось бы, тебе известны ключевые повороты истории – действуй! Развивайся! Ага, как бы не так! Попробуй что-то сделать, когда даже паспорта нет и никто не воспринимает тебя всерьез! А еще выяснилось, что в меняющейся реальности образуются пустоты, которые заполняются совсем не так, как мне хочется.

Денис Ратманов

Фантастика / Фантастика для детей / Самиздат, сетевая литература / Альтернативная история / Попаданцы