The Sight wpot-1 Read online

  The whole patrol must have seen him struggling like a helpless kit, defeated by a bramble bush. A hot wave of embarrassment washed over him from nose to tail.

  “Will Dustpelt and Hazelpaw be all right?” he asked.

  “They’ll chase the fox away from the camp,” Thornclaw told him. “I don’t think it’ll turn on them. Not after the fright we gave it.”

  “We should get Brightheart and Jaypaw back to camp and send a patrol after them,” Poppypaw suggested.

  “Good idea,” Thornclaw agreed.

  The rain eased as dusk began to chill the air. Jaypaw lay pressed into the same sheltered clump of grass where Brightheart had taken him that morning. He had wanted to

  be alone, and the thorny wall of the warriors’ den hid him from the rest of the camp. But now Lionpaw had returned with Ashfur; he could hear them in the center of the clearing.

  “Where’s Jaypaw?” Lionpaw sounded worried.

  Hollypaw answered from outside the medicine cat’s den.

  “I haven’t seen him, but Brightheart’s back. He must be in the camp.”

  “Shall we ask her where he is?”

  Jaypaw didn’t want Brightheart to tell them what an idiot he had made of himself today. He slipped out and headed Hollypaw and Lionpaw off at the fresh-kill pile.

  “There you are!” Hollypaw called.

  “Hi,” Jaypaw muttered. He padded past them and pulled a mouse from the top of the pile.

  Hollypaw followed him and picked up a sparrow. She dropped it on the ground next to Jaypaw while Lionpaw rooted among the prey until he found the fresh-smelling body of a vole. “I caught this myself!” he announced proudly, tossing it onto the ground beside Hollypaw.

  “You caught prey on your first day?” Hollypaw sounded impressed.

  “Well,” Lionpaw admitted, “Ashfur spotted it and showed me how to stalk it.”

  “He probably held it down for you to finish off,” Jaypaw growled.

  There was a moment’s silence; then Hollypaw brushed her tail over Jaypaw’s pelt. “I heard you ran into trouble,” she mewed. “It could have happened to any cat.”

  Jaypaw shrugged away her tail. “But it happened to me,” he growled.

  “It’s only your first day,” Lionpaw reminded him.

  Yes, and you caught a vole on your first day, didn’t you?

  Hollypaw sniffed at the thorns in Jaypaw’s tail and plucked at one with her teeth.

  “I can do that myself,” Jaypaw hissed, flicking his tail away from her.

  “Do you want some herbs?” she offered. “I know which ones will soothe the pain and stop infection.” There was pride in her mew.

  “No need.” Jaypaw took a bite of mouse, but it felt dry and tasteless. He nudged the mouse over to Lionpaw with his muzzle. “Here, you finish it. I’m not hungry.”

  “Wait . . .” Lionpaw began. But Jaypaw padded gloomily away.

  He headed toward the apprentices’ den, which was underneath a bushy yew tree growing close to the wall of the hollow. It took him a moment to figure out where the entrance was, and when he had, he nosed his way in cautiously. The unfamiliar scents confused him—moss rich with the smell of different apprentices, the strong tang of yew sap. He had no idea what lay around him or where he should lie down.

  “Hey, Jaypaw.” Hazelpaw’s mew came from the far side of the den. “There’s no one here but me. Just head toward my voice. There’s some clean moss next to my nest where you can sleep.”

  Jaypaw was too tired and miserable to make a fuss about

  being helped. Gratefully, he padded toward Hazelpaw’s nest, and as he did, the scents around him began to fall into place, like a flight of birds settling one by one into a tree. He smelled Poppypaw’s scent, so stale that she had clearly not been in here since sunrise; Berrypaw’s nest had been slept in more recently, and Honeypaw’s smelled warm as though she’d just left it. Jaypaw weaved cautiously among the little patches of scent until he found the clean moss beside Hazelpaw.

  “Thanks,” he murmured, settling down.

  “No problem,” she answered sleepily.

  He was glad she sounded too tired to talk. Right now, all he wanted to do was to tuck his nose under his paw and sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Silverpelt glittered overhead as Jaypaw followed the narrow valley upward. He glanced up at the jagged rocks that lined his path, sharp as fox teeth. Ahead, a stream danced down the mountainside, sparkling in the moonlight. A cold breeze whisked down from the gray peaks and set his fur rippling like water.

  It felt as though he had been following this stony path for days, and still he had to follow the stream upward, into the mountains.

  A paw jabbed his side, catching him painfully between the ribs. Jaypaw flinched. He blinked open his eyes and saw only darkness.

  He had been dreaming.

  The paw jabbed him again.

  “Watch out!” he complained.

  “Sorry!” Lionpaw apologized.

  “Why are you so fidgety this morning?” Jaypaw lifted his muzzle. He could smell dew on the leaves and guessed that it was hardly dawn. Only Lionpaw and Berrypaw were stirring.

  “We’re going on border patrol with Ashfur and Brambleclaw,” Lionpaw explained excitedly.

  “Big deal,” Jaypaw muttered. “Brambleclaw’s only taking you because nothing happens on the borders these days.”

  “What about ShadowClan and WindClan leaving extra scent markers?”

  “Are you scared of smells?” Jaypaw snapped back.

  Lionpaw flinched away from him.

  “I’m sorry,” Jaypaw murmured. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

  “Yeah,” Lionpaw agreed quietly. “I’ll see you later.” Without another word he padded out of the den, followed by Berrypaw.

  Jaypaw wriggled deeper into his nest, cold now Lionpaw had gone. He tried to go back to his dream but sleep would not come again.

  The fresh scent of dawn was filtering slowly into the den when Mousepaw and Hazelpaw began to yawn and stretch.

  Hazelpaw nudged Jaypaw. “Stop pretending to be asleep,”

  she mewed.

  Jaypaw lifted his head reluctantly.

  “Has Berrypaw gone already?” she asked him.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, well.” Hazelpaw sounded disappointed at missing her brother. “I’ll see him at battle training later.”

  “Hazelpaw!” Dustpelt’s deep growl sounded through the den entrance. “The fresh-kill pile is empty. Bring Mousepaw.

  We’re going hunting.”

  Hazelpaw’s tail fluffed up. “Great,” she mewed. “I thought I was going to have to spend the morning cleaning out the elders’ den!”

  Why would they ask you to do that when they’ve got me? Jaypaw thought as she disappeared from the den with Mousepaw.

  Daisy’s kits have more important duties than me, and they’re not even Clanborn!

  “Hi, Jaypaw!” Poppypaw called. “How was your first night in the apprentices’ den?”

  “Fine,” Jaypaw mewed halfheartedly.

  Cinderpaw was stirring too. “What are you doing today?”

  she asked.

  “Well, I’m not patrolling and I’m not hunting,” Jaypaw informed her.

  “Perhaps Brightheart has planned battle training for you,”

  Poppypaw suggested.

  “I hope so!” Cinderpaw put in. “We’re training in the clearing this morning. It’d be great if you could come too.”

  Jaypaw did not answer.

  “I hope we see you there,” Poppypaw called over her shoulder as she headed out of the den.

  And rabbits might fly, Jaypaw muttered to himself.

  Only Honeypaw remained in the den, and she was fast asleep. Jaypaw wasn’t going to wait for her to wake up and start chirping like a fledgling about what duties she was looking forward to. Instead he crept from his nest and ducked out of the den.

  The frosty ground beneath his paws told him that the skies were
clear today. The camp was already busy, even though the sun had not yet begun to warm the hollow. Firestar stood with Brackenfur and Spiderleg, organizing hunting parties

  and border patrols. Leafpool was heading for the nursery, and Squirrelflight was sharing tongues with Stormfur and Brook.

  There was no sign of Brightheart. She had probably forgotten Jaypaw and gone on the dawn patrol without him.

  Resentment rose like bile in his throat. I’ll show her I’m not useless!

  He hurried across the clearing to the tunnel leading to where the cats made dirt. As he emerged, he scented Sandstorm heading into the camp. There was no time to go back. Instead he dived forward and plunged behind a clump of bracken. Sandstorm’s pawsteps halted, and Jaypaw could hear her sniffing the air. He held his breath, praying to StarClan she wouldn’t see him. She paused a moment more and then carried on back through the tunnel and into the camp.

  Jaypaw let out a sigh of relief and scrambled out of the bracken, shaking a scrap of dried leaf from his ear. He quickly found the path that he and Brightheart had taken yesterday.

  If Brightheart wasn’t going to show him the whole of ThunderClan territory, he would explore it by himself. He would start by going farther toward the lake. He had never been that far, and the fresh scents of wind and water excited him.

  It was easy enough climbing the slope and following the ridge again, and when he came to the end of it, he was prepared this time for the steepness of the slope. He scrabbled down it, using his claws to slow his descent, and when he reached the heather bush that had stopped him last time he

  headed away from the Thunderpath, in the opposite direction from the one they had taken yesterday.

  Jaypaw followed the side of the ridge down through the trees. Weaving his way through the undergrowth was easy; he just followed his whiskers, padding confidently over the leaf-strewn forest floor. But gradually the trees and undergrowth began to thin out and the slope flattened. The ground became soft, no longer covered with leaves, but springy with moss. Heather brushed his pelt.

  He tasted the air, wondering how far from the lake he was.

  Yesterday the wind had flowed in over the water, and he had smelled it quite clearly. But today the wind blew from ThunderClan territory, giving no clue about the land ahead.

  He listened for the slapping of water on the shore, but it sounded very distant, and it was hard to tell where it was coming from.

  Suddenly his forepaw slipped into a dip in the ground. He had stumbled into a rabbit hole. His paw twisted beneath him and pain shot up his leg. Wincing, he scrambled out of the hole and licked his paw. It was not badly hurt, but it was several moments before he dared test it on the ground.

  This isn’t like the woodland at all. For the first time he wondered if exploring on his own had been a good idea. But he was determined to reach the lake by himself. Gingerly he lowered his paw, relieved when it was able to take his weight.

  He padded forward cautiously, shivering as water from the boggy ground seeped up and soaked the fur between his claws. Suddenly his forepaws sank deep into the peaty earth.

  Freezing mud soaked his legs up to his chest. StarClan, help me!

  He scrabbled backward, his hind claws gripping desperately onto the solid ground behind. With a frantic heave he freed his forepaws from the sucking mud and twisted his whole body, grabbing for the nearest clump of heather. He scrambled in among its bristly branches, and stood trembling on its sturdy web of roots.

  I must test the ground before I step forward, he warned himself, his heart pounding so loud that it drowned out the noise of the waves and the wind. He reached out a tentative paw and poked the ground on the other side of the heather. It felt springy with moss but firm, and he slipped out from the heather and warily padded forward.

  Concentrating hard, he felt his way forward, one slow pawstep at a time, always staying within reach of heather—

  something to cling to if he lost his footing again. Little by little the ground underpaw grew firmer and drier. The land was sloping up again, and he sensed space opening before him.

  Surer now, he began to relax. He sniffed the air. The wind still blew from behind him, carrying the familiar scent of home. He wondered for a moment if he should go back, but he pushed the thought away. I won’t give up!

  He tried to build an image of the landscape in his mind, storing it so that the next time he was here he could travel more confidently. The springy moss was turning to smooth grass underpaw. He could hear the rustling of the forest far behind him. The sound of the lake rippling in the wind was louder now, making his paws prick with excitement. He quickened his

  step, beginning to enjoy the freedom of the open space—the sun warm on his face, the wind tugging his fur.

  Happily he sniffed the air again.

  WindClan!

  Alarm gripped him. The scent of WindClan cats was so strong here that it covered his own. And yet he hadn’t heard any movement around him. He was sure there were no cats nearby. Had he strayed across the border without realizing it?

  Confused, he twisted around, hunting for the scent of home. He stepped backward, frightened—and without warning the land disappeared. He thrashed with his paws, trying to grasp some branch or rock, but there was nothing but a sheer, empty drop beneath him.

  Then he hit water.

  The shock of the cold water knocked the breath from him, so that he found himself flailing beneath the waves, his lungs screaming for air while he struggled to work out which way was up. Jaypaw tried to wail out loud, but water filled his mouth and his eyes and his ears.

  I’m going to drown!

  Suddenly a sharp tug on his scruff dragged him backward.

  Something was heaving him through the water. Instinctively he stopped struggling and fell limp like a kit in its mother’s jaws. He let himself be wrenched upward until, his chest bursting, he broke the surface.

  In his first gulp of air he swallowed a mouthful of water which made him cough and splutter until he thought he was going to be sick.

  “Keep still!” a voice hissed through clenched teeth.

  Jaypaw felt himself being tugged awkwardly through the rippling waves. His paws churned in the water as he felt for the bottom.

  “Stop wriggling!” the voice hissed again, and Jaypaw suddenly felt pebbles scrape against his pelt as his rescuer hauled him out of the water and onto a stony beach.

  He collapsed, retching and gasping. Paws began to work on his chest, pumping the water from him.

  “Will he be okay?” The anxious mew of a young cat sounded close by.

  Jaypaw was too shocked to make sense of the scents around him. “Who’s there? Are you warriors?” he rasped.

  “What do you mean?” The voice sounded puzzled, then shocked. “He can’t see!”

  “What in the name of StarClan is he doing out here by himself?” Jaypaw heard a deeper voice and recognized the angry hiss of his rescuer.

  A rough tongue began to lick him, massaging his cold body.

  Another tongue joined it, and he closed his eyes again and lay helpless, weak with shock, letting the rhythmic strokes soothe and warm him.

  As his mind cleared, he realized that the cats were WindClan. Their scent was the same one that had been blown to him across the moorland the day before. And there were four of them, two older, two younger—warriors and their apprentices?

  “Will he be okay, Whitetail?” one of the apprentices

  mewed. She crept forward and crouched beside Jaypaw. He could feel her pelt trembling against his.

  “He’ll be fine, Heatherpaw.” Not his rescuer, but a gentler voice, the mew of a female warrior. “Can you hear me?”

  Jaypaw nodded. Clumsily he dragged himself into a sitting position. His ears were full of water, and he shook his head to clear them. Pebbles crackled as the WindClan cats leaped away from the droplets that sprayed from his waterlogged fur.

  “Typical that a ThunderClan cat should thank us by trying to drown u
s!” Jaypaw had not heard this mew before. He guessed it belonged to the other apprentice—a tom, by the sound of it.

  The older tom growled a stern reply. “Stop making a fuss, Breezepaw! It’s only a few drops of water.” Jaypaw felt warm breath on his cheek as the warrior leaned in close. “What were you doing so far from your camp?” he demanded. “Is there anyone with you?”

  “Be gentle, Crowfeather,” Whitetail pleaded. “He’s had a bad shock.” Jaypaw felt a soft tongue lick his ear. “You’re safe now, little one.”

  Jaypaw relaxed against her, sheltering from the wind in her warm, dry fur.

  “I’m Whitetail,” the she-warrior went on. “This is Crowfeather, and these are our apprentices, Heatherpaw and Breezepaw. We won’t hurt you.”

  “I think he might have guessed that by the way we just saved his life!” Breezepaw muttered.

  “I wish you’d teach your son some manners, Crowfeather!”

  Whitetail meowed sharply. She turned her attention back to Jaypaw. “What were you doing out here alone? Did you know you were heading for WindClan territory? Are you in trouble?”

  “I will be,” Jaypaw mewed under his breath.

  “I should hope so,” Crowfeather snapped. “What was your Clan thinking, letting you wander off like that?”

  Heatherpaw leaned closer in, brushing Jaypaw’s pelt with her whiskers. “Can you see anything at all?” she asked curiously.

  Breezepaw snorted. “If he can, he must be stupid, walking off the edge of a cliff!”

  “I didn’t walk off the edge!” Jaypaw hissed.

  “It looked like it from where we were standing.” Breezepaw sniffed.

  “Be quiet, Breezepaw!” Crowfeather scolded.

  Breezepaw fell silent, but Jaypaw could hear his tail twitching crossly over the pebbles.

  “I suppose I’d better take him back to ThunderClan,”

  Crowfeather meowed. “Are you well enough to travel?” he asked Jaypaw.

  Jaypaw nodded. His legs still felt shaky, but he wasn’t going to give Breezepaw the satisfaction of mocking a ThunderClan cat again. He stood up. “Thank you for rescuing me, but I can find my own way home,” he mewed politely.