by Erin Hunter
He blinked, and his thoughts jerked back to Brightheart.
She had jumped to her paws and was obviously waiting for him to say something. He flicked his tail, wondering how he could cover up the fact that he hadn’t been paying attention.
But she had already guessed that he had not been listening to a word.
She snorted impatiently. “We’re going to see Longtail, remember?”
Jaypaw’s heart sank. More pointless advice from a second-rate warrior. “Okay,” he mewed unenthusiastically.
Brightheart sighed. “Come on.”
Dragging his paws, he followed her across the clearing.
At the entrance to the elders’ den, Brightheart called through the spindly branches that brushed the ground around its edge, “It’s Brightheart and Jaypaw!”
“Come in, come in,” Longtail meowed.
Brightheart ducked down under the low branch entrance and padded into the space that ringed the trunk of the honeysuckle bush. Jaypaw followed, keeping his head low, uncertain for once about his surroundings. He had not been in this
den before, but he knew by the scent that Longtail was alone.
Mousefur must have gone out into the forest after all.
“Congratulations, Jaypaw!” Longtail purred. “You’ve been given a great mentor.”
“Thank you, Longtail.” Jaypaw heard shyness and pride in Brightheart’s mew.
“Firestar has set you quite a challenge for your first apprentice, Brightheart,” Longtail remarked.
“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean—” Jaypaw began hotly.
“I wasn’t referring to your blindness,” Longtail interrupted. “I meant your attitude.”
“What’s wrong with my attitude?”
“It’s not many cats who’d try foxhunting before they were even out of the nursery.” There was humor in Longtail’s mew.
Jaypaw bristled. I was only trying to help my Clan! But before he could point this out, Brightheart was issuing orders.
“First I want you to clean out the moss, get rid of any dusty or dirty pieces,” she instructed. “I’ll fetch some fresh for now, because you don’t know the best place to gather it.”
Cleaning out bedding! Jaypaw knew it was a routine apprentice task—he had heard Berrypaw and Hazelpaw complain about it often enough—but knowing that Lionpaw was already exploring the territory made him want to snarl.
“Then,” Brightheart went on, “check Longtail for fleas and ticks, and Mousefur too, if she’s back by then. While you’re busy, Longtail can tell you about using other senses rather than sight.”
Jaypaw wanted to wail with frustration. He and Longtail were totally different. Longtail had lost his sight after he had been a warrior. Blindness must have been devastating after relying on his sight for his whole life. But Jaypaw had never seen the world with any other senses apart from sound, scent, and touch. Being blind was totally natural for him. How could Longtail know what that was like? He could probably give Longtail more advice than the blind cat could give him—
how to pick the freshest prey from the pile, how to tell where your denmates had been by the scents on their pelts. . . .
“You might as well make a start, Jaypaw,” Brightheart suggested. Was that impatience he heard in her mew? You’ll be feeling more than impatience if you keep giving me rubbish tasks like this! he predicted mutinously.
As Brightheart nosed her way out of the den, he began sorting through the moss, feeling with his paws for pieces that had grown dry and scratchy and sniffing for pieces that were beginning to smell stale. “This apprenticeship is going to be so dull,” he hissed under his breath.
“What was that?” Mousefur had padded into the den, her pelt smelling of the forest. Her pawsteps were uneven, and she breathed in sharply as she sat down. “You’ve missed a bit over here,” she pointed out.
“He’s only just started,” Longtail defended him.
Mousefur snorted. “Does that mean we’ll have him scrabbling around the den until sunhigh? I was hoping to get some sleep.”
“It’s not my fault you’re stiff!” Jaypaw snapped. “You’re the
one that went out into the forest when it’s damp.”
He felt Mousefur look closely at him. “How did you know I was stiff?”
“I could tell when you sat down,” Jaypaw replied, hooking out a wad of dry moss and flinging it toward the den entrance. “You moved slowly and made that noise.”
“What noise?”
“A sort of gasp, like it hurt.”
A purr of amusement suddenly rumbled in the old she-cat’s throat. “I see Brightheart is going to have her paws full,”
she meowed.
Jaypaw felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps they’ll stop underesti-mating me quite so much once they realize it doesn’t matter that I can’t see.
He finished sorting through the moss, then padded over to Longtail and began nosing through his fur.
“I bet you can’t wait to start training in the forest,”
Longtail meowed. “I remember my first time out like it was last moon.” A wistful edge entered his mew. “Of course, I wasn’t blind then. Everything seemed so green and fresh. But you’ll still love it, even though you’re blind. There are so many scents out there.”
I’d kind of noticed. Jaypaw felt the hard body of a flea in the warrior’s pelt.
“That’s the one thing I’ve noticed about being blind,”
Longtail went on. “Scents become so much sharper and more important.”
Thanks for the information. Jaypaw cracked the flea between his teeth.
“And sounds, of course,” Longtail added. “I can sometimes hear the mice moving at the top of the hollow. I never would have noticed that before. You should make sure you listen really well, all the time.”
Jaypaw began to check the fur around Longtail’s scruff. A tick was lodged behind the warrior’s ear.
“When it comes to hunting, it’ll help to have sharp hearing and smell. Prey is always hard to see, but smelling it is easy.
Even when I could see, it was usually the scent or sound of prey that told me where it was hiding.”
You’ll be telling me that a fresh mouse tastes juicier than a stale one next, Jaypaw thought, tugging at the tick harder than he needed to.
“Ow!” Longtail complained.
“How’s it going in here?” Brightheart’s voice sounded at the den entrance. “Have you finished?”
“I think so.” Jaypaw looked hopefully toward Mousefur.
“You don’t have any ticks, do you?”
“Only one in my side, but I can reach it myself,” she replied.
Jaypaw turned to his mentor. “I’ve finished, then.”
Brightheart began bundling pawfuls of fresh moss into the den. “Good. Spread this out and then come with me,” she meowed. “I’m going to show you the territory around the camp.”
At last! Hollypaw and Lionpaw had been out for ages.
“Good luck!” Longtail called as Jaypaw followed Brightheart out of the den.
She led him out of the camp and up the steep slope that
led lakeward. “This trail leads to the top of the ridge,”
Brightheart explained. “It’s steep.”
“Okay.” Jaypaw decided not to tell her that he could already feel the slope beneath his paws. He followed his mentor as she weaved through the trees, feeling the damp leaves slippery underpaw.
“Watch out!” Brightheart called, but Jaypaw could smell the bark ahead of him and swerved just in time to avoid the tree, his whiskers grazing the trunk.
“The trees are thick here, but there’s not too much undergrowth.”
“Oh.” Jaypaw breathed in the scent of a mouse trail as the ground began to flatten out.
“We’re at the top of the ridge now,” Brightheart told him.
“Follow my scent and I’ll lead you along the crest.”
“Right.” He could tell by the slope of the land t
hat the forest fell away on either side; it felt as though they were climbing the spine of a great cat.
“If we go up this trail, we’ll be out of the trees soon.”
Jaypaw was beginning to feel out of breath, so he didn’t reply. He listened to the flies buzzing around him and shook his head when they tickled his ears.
“We’re out of the trees now, so don’t worry about bumping into anything,” Brightheart meowed. Jaypaw knew they had left the cover of the forest. A light, damp wind brushed his face.
“Stop here,” Brightheart meowed. But Jaypaw had already halted, feeling the land drop steeply away at his pawtips.
Scents flooded him—distant, strange smells he didn’t know yet—and he could hear water lapping far below. He knew that they were looking out over the forest and lake.
“We’ve followed the ridge out of the forest and right up to the end,” Brightheart explained. “The land slopes down steeply from here to the lake. RiverClan territory is across the water. Over where the sun sets is ShadowClan territory.
And if you look back toward where the sun rises you’ll be able to see—” She broke off abruptly.
For the first time that day, Jaypaw felt sorry for his mentor. She must have hoped that her first apprentice would be a healthy kit she wouldn’t have to make special allowances for.
If only she realized that he didn’t want any special allowances, that he didn’t need them.
“I might not be able to see what you see,” he told her, “but I can tell a lot from what I can hear and smell and feel.” He lifted his nose. “I know ShadowClan is over there, not just because the stench of them is strong enough to scare a rabbit, but because the tang of the pines tells me there can’t be much undergrowth, so the cats who hunt there must be cunning and good at stalking.” He turned his head. “And over there I can smell the moorland. The wind comes in a great unbroken sweep, undisturbed by trees. The WindClan cats who live there must be fast and small to hunt in such open country.”
Then he gazed at the lake in front of them. “I know RiverClan live across the lake, though I can’t smell their scent. It’s hidden by the scents from the lake, which are stronger today because of the wind. But I know that
RiverClan will feel the coming rain first because the wind is driving the waves this way—I can hear them slapping against the shore.”
“You can tell all that without seeing it?”
“Yes, of course.”
Suddenly Brightheart stiffened. She was listening intently, ears pricked. “A patrol is coming,” she announced.
Jaypaw had heard it already. A ThunderClan patrol was climbing the ridge toward them, rustling though the bracken and heather. He knew from the scents that it was Dustpelt, Hazelpaw, Thornclaw, and Poppypaw, but he didn’t say so out loud. He was pleased he had impressed Brightheart with his description of what was around them, but he didn’t want her to think he was showing off.
“Hi!” Poppypaw bounded out from the bracken first.
Thornclaw followed with Dustpelt and Hazelpaw close on his heels. “You’re out of the camp at last!” Poppypaw mewed.
“Isn’t it great being an apprentice?” Hazelpaw added. “I still remember my first day. I was so excited!”
I bet your first day as an apprentice was more exciting than this.
“We’ve just done a border patrol,” Hazelpaw went on.
“And now we’re going to do battle training in the mossy clearing!” Poppypaw finished.
“Great,” Jaypaw muttered.
“You can come with us!” Poppypaw suggested suddenly. She turned to her mentor, Thornclaw. “He can come, can’t he?”
“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 th
e 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 com-bined, 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.