The Sight

by Erin Hunter

  “Perhaps another day,” Brightheart meowed.

  “We haven’t finished exploring our territory,” she explained, addressing Jaypaw as much as Poppypaw.

  “Oh, okay,” Poppypaw mewed.

  “Where are you heading now?” Thornclaw asked Brightheart.

  “I’m going to show Jaypaw the old Thunderpath.”

  Thornclaw paused. “You’ll be careful?” he cautioned. “Don’t stray over the ShadowClan border.”

  Jaypaw bristled. They might have only one eye between them, but they weren’t idiots! As he prepared to snarl a reply, Brightheart mewed sharply, “I know a border marker when I smell it!”

  Jaypaw sensed a flash of reproach shoot from Dustpelt. “Firestar trusted Brightheart with Jaypaw,” he reminded Thornclaw quietly.

  Thornclaw’s paws rustled on the leafy forest floor. “Of course,” he acknowledged. “Sorry, Brightheart.”

  Brightheart met his apology with stony silence, and Jaypaw felt a prick of satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who felt patronized by the other warriors.

  “There’s a steep slope ahead of us,” Brightheart warned as they set off.

  You don’t say! Jaypaw bit back the sharp reply, feeling the curve of the ground under his paws.

  “Can you manage it?”

  “Of course I can.” Angrily Jaypaw stepped forward. To his surprise, the ground dropped away much more steeply than he expected, and he half fell, half skidded down the muddy slope, scrabbling to slow his descent until a clump of heather slowed it for him.

  “Are you okay?” Brightheart panted, catching up with him.

  Jaypaw struggled out of the heather, then gave his chest a couple of brisk licks. “I’m fine,” he mewed.

  “That was quite a tumble. We can rest if you want,” Brightheart offered.

  “I told you, I’m fine,” Jaypaw hissed. He shook the last scraps of heather from his pelt. “Which way now?”

  He could feel Brightheart looking closely at him, but she didn’t say anything else about his fall. “Come on,” she meowed. “We can head around to the old Thunderpath from here.”

  Jaypaw padded after her, furious with himself for losing his footing so easily just when Brightheart seemed to be treating him like a normal apprentice.

  The wind had picked up by the time they reached the old Thunderpath. Jaypaw smelled rain on its way.

  “We’ll head back to the camp from here,” Brightheart told him when they reached the gap in the trees where Twolegs had once cut a path, now overgrown and deserted.

  “But there must be more ThunderClan territory than this!” Jaypaw objected.

  “Too much to explore today,” Brightheart meowed.

  Crossly Jaypaw turned away from the Thunderpath and followed Brightheart back into the trees. He didn’t believe that they couldn’t circle the whole territory in one day. Brightheart obviously thought he wouldn’t be able to cope with a long day out of the camp.

  They padded through the trees. Rain was beginning to fall, spattering on the leaves above them. Jaypaw looked up just as a raindrop found its way through the canopy and splashed onto his nose. He shivered and shook off the wetness. Perhaps it was not so bad that they were going back to the hollow. The rain was cold, and the wind that carried it over the lake even colder. He heard Brightheart’s step quicken and guessed she must be feeling the same way.

  Then he stiffened.

  There was another scent on the breeze, sharper than the rain and the leaves. Memories flooded him of his terrifying dash through the forest. Fox! Another sniff showed it was the same fox that had chased him over the edge of the hollow, with the scent of earth and bracken in its pelt. And it was close. Jaypaw dropped into a defensive crouch and opened his mouth to warn Brightheart, but her fear-scent told him that she had smelled the creature already.

  “We must find Thornclaw’s patrol!” she hissed.

  Jaypaw sniffed the air, searching for a scent-trace of the patrol. It would tell them which way to run. With relief, he picked up a faint smell of Thornclaw, but it was too late. The bracken up ahead rustled, and the fox hurled itself out and charged toward them. Jaypaw’s heart almost burst with fear. The fox cub’s paws pounded on the forest floor; its stench was stronger and its snarl was deeper than he remembered. The fox had grown since their last encounter.

  “Run!” Brightheart ordered, throwing herself between the fox and Jaypaw.

  “I won’t leave you!” Jaypaw yowled. “I can fight!”

  He heard the clack of teeth as the fox snapped at Brightheart. She hissed, her paws skidding as she dodged. The fox’s pained screech told Jaypaw that she had caught it with a claw as it had lunged past.

  A rush of air tugged his fur as the fox darted past him. He twisted, claws unsheathed, and prepared to lunge forward. The fox was scrabbling to turn on the slippery leaves for another attack. Jaypaw leaped, spitting, but something tugged him back. His tail was caught in a bramble bush! He collapsed on the ground, dragged back by the thorns. A heavy paw landed on his back, knocking the wind from him. The fox had thundered straight over him, heading once more for Brightheart.

  The one-eyed warrior screeched, anger and fear combined, and Jaypaw froze with terror.

  Then he heard Thornclaw’s yowl only rabbit-lengths away. The patrol had come!

  The air filled with the battle cries as warriors and apprentices streamed into the clearing, ears flattened and claws unsheathed. The fox let out an angry yelp and raced into the trees, with Dustpelt and Hazelpaw pounding after it.

  Jaypaw struggled to his paws, yanking his tail to unsnag it from the bramble bush.

  “Jaypaw!” Poppypaw was at his side. “Are you okay?”

  He wrenched his tail free with the sound of ripping fur. “I’m fine!” he snapped.

  “Did the fox hurt you?” Brightheart called.

  Jaypaw was relieved to hear his mentor. He smelled no blood on her, and her voice was strong. The fox had not wounded her.

  “Don’t tell me you tried to fight the fox?” Thornclaw demanded. “You should have run for help!”

  “I couldn’t leave Brightheart alone with it,” Jaypaw objected.

  “I thought you would have learned by now that you’re no match for a fox!” Thornclaw growled. Jaypaw curled his lip but said nothing.

  “Is your tail okay?” Poppypaw asked sympathetically.

  Jaypaw lashed it over the leaf-covered ground, ignoring the pain of the thorns still stuck in it. “It’s fine,” he muttered. 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 o
f 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!