The Sight

by Erin Hunter

  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 us!” 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.

  “There’s no way I’m letting you wander off by yourself again,” Crowfeather insisted. “Whitetail, you take Heatherpaw and Breezepaw back to camp.” He laid his tail firmly on Jaypaw’s shoulder and began to guide him up the beach.

  “See your medicine cat as soon as you get home!” Whitetail called after him.

  Crowfeather hardly spoke as they trekked back into ThunderClan territory and headed toward the camp. He only meowed curt warnings when they came across rabbit holes or roots that might trip the ThunderClan apprentice. Jaypaw was content with the silence. The ground was unfamiliar, and he was too furious to concentrate on anything but Crowfeather’s occasional instructions. He resented Crowfeather’s tail resting lightly on his shoulder, but he did not complain. He was in far too much trouble already. Once again his attempt to prove he was as good as any other cat had ended in disaster.

  I know this place, he thought suddenly. The sloping earth beneath his paws was strewn with twigs. Trees rustled overhead. They were nearing the top of the hollow. Jaypaw’s heart sank. How was he going to explain why he wasn’t with Brightheart? What would his father say? He scented a ThunderClan patrol and realized that Squirrelflight, Stormfur, and Brook were heading straight for them. He tensed his shoulders.

  “Crowfeather?” Stormfur’s surprised mew sounded from the bracken ahead.

  Paws raced toward them. “Jaypaw!” Squirrelflight’s mew was shrill with relief and anger as she pressed her muzzle into his damp fur. “What in StarClan happened to you?” She licked him ferociously between the ears. “Where did you find him?” she asked Crowfeather.

  “He’d wandered into WindClan territory,” Crowfeather explained gruffly. “I had to fish him out of the lake.”

  Jaypaw bowed his head, his pelt burning with embarrassment. To make it worse, he could tell Squirrelflight was feeling an awkwardness that strengthened as Crowfeather went on. “Do your kits always go out by themselves?”

  “I’m not a kit; I’m an apprentice!” Jaypaw snapped. He felt his mother’s tail brush his muzzle, silencing him.

  “Crowfeather,” she meowed coolly, “I believe WindClan once had cats who went wandering farther than they should.” Her mew was laced with a m
eaning that Jaypaw didn’t understand. But Crowfeather clearly did. The WindClan warrior flicked his tail away from Jaypaw’s shoulders and snorted.

  “You should get him back to camp,” he meowed. “He almost drowned, and the water was freezing.”

  “Yes, I should,” Squirrelflight agreed. She nudged Jaypaw down the slope that led to the thorn barrier.

  To Jaypaw’s surprise, Crowfeather accompanied them back to the hollow. Squirrelflight did not question it, and Jaypaw sensed positive joy in Stormfur’s step as he padded alongside the WindClan warrior.

  Brook fell into step beside Jaypaw. “Do not be ashamed,” she purred in his ear. “I got up to far worse when I was still training.” She pressed her warm flank against his cold, wet pelt. He knew the mountain cat was trying to make him feel better, but it didn’t help.

  Suddenly he heard the thorn barrier rustle, and Mousepaw rushed out of the camp entrance. “You found him!” the apprentice called, delighted.

  Squirrelflight sighed. “Yes, we found him.”

  “Go and find Brightheart’s patrol and tell her to stop searching,” Stormfur told Mousepaw. “Ask Cloudtail if you can take Cinderpaw with you.”

  “Yes, Stormfur,” Mousepaw mewed, dashing back into the camp.

  Squirrelflight led the way through the tunnel. Jaypaw clenched his claws and followed her into camp.

  “Go straight to Leafpool,” Stormfur advised him softly.

  “I’ll come and see you once I’ve spoken to Brambleclaw,” Squirrelflight mewed. “He’ll want to know you’re safe.”

  Feeling lower than a worm’s belly, Jaypaw slunk toward the medicine cat’s den. Crowfeather padded after him. Jaypaw blinked in confusion. Was the WindClan warrior determined to follow him wherever he went? Surely Crowfeather had no business with ThunderClan’s medicine cat? But he wasn’t going to challenge the warrior. Instead he tried to sense what Crowfeather was feeling, but it was like trying to reach into a bramble bush—he could sense nothing but prickles.

  Leafpool spun around as Jaypaw padded through the entrance to her den. She hurried to his side, and he felt her relief like a blast of air. “You’re safe.”

  She tensed suddenly, jerking her head to stare at Crowfeather as he pushed his way through the brambles. Jaypaw’s fur pricked as tension set the air crackling like lightning in greenleaf.

  “Hello, Crowfeather,” Leafpool meowed. She sounded as though she had a burr caught in her throat.

  “Leafpool.” Crowfeather’s greeting was curt, but for the first time Jaypaw sensed some feeling other than irritation stir beneath the WindClan warrior’s pelt. “I was out with Breezepaw and his mentor when we found him.”

  Leafpool stiffened. “Your son’s an apprentice already?” Her mew was brittle.

  “He is,” Crowfeather replied, his voice strangely flat.

  “Jaypaw!” Hollypaw rushed up and rubbed her muzzle against his cheek. “You look half-drowned!”

  Tiredness suddenly swept through Jaypaw, and he let himself sink down to the ground.

  “Fetch some thyme, Hollypaw,” Leafpool ordered.

  Hollypaw darted away to the back of the den and returned a moment later, breathless and flustered, her jaws full of leaves. Jaypaw recognized the scent of feverfew, not thyme.

  “He hardly needs cooling down,” Leafpool meowed impatiently. She hurried to the herb piles herself and grabbed a mouthful of thyme.

  Crowfeather stood and watched silently.

  “And why am I giving him thyme?” Leafpool prompted Hollypaw, dropping the leaves beside Jaypaw.

  “To make him warm?” Hollypaw ventured.

  Leafpool shook her head. “You can warm him by lying next to him,” she meowed.

  Hollypaw crouched down and pressed her body against Jaypaw’s.

  Leafpool nosed the thyme leaves toward Jaypaw. “The thyme will calm him and help with the shock,” she explained. She licked Jaypaw’s cheek. “Eat them all,” she encouraged. “They don’t taste too bad, and I’ll send Hollypaw for a nice fresh mouse to wash the taste away once you’ve begun to warm up.”

  Jaypaw swallowed the leaves without complaint. He felt too cold and tired to object to anything. He let his eyes close and felt the warmth of his sister’s body seep into his. He was still vaguely aware of the piercing emotion that raced between Crowfeather and Leafpool, but even that slid away as he slipped into the comforting stillness of sleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  Lionpaw glanced up at the moon shining full and bright into the hollow. Clouds aren’t going to stop this Gathering.

  Dustpelt, Spiderleg, and Ashfur were already waiting by the camp entrance. Firestar stood beneath Highledge with Sandstorm and Brambleclaw, talking quietly to them.

  “Why are we hanging about?” Hollypaw fussed, tearing the grass with her thorn-sharp claws.

  “It can’t be much longer,” Lionpaw mewed. He felt every bit as excited as his sister. This was their first Gathering, their first chance to meet apprentices from rival Clans, to swap stories and compare training—knowing that the next time they met might be in battle, with claws unsheathed and teeth bared.

  “It looks like Firestar’s waiting for Leafpool,” Hazelpaw put in.

  “Why’s it taking her so long?” Hollypaw complained. “She’s only sorting through the new herbs we gathered before sunhigh.”

  “She might sort them quicker if she had her apprentice helping,” Berrypaw pointed out.

  “I tried helping!” Hollypaw protested. “But Leafpool said it would be quicker if she did it herself.”

  Mousepaw’s whiskers twitched. “Are you sure you’re cut out to be a medicine cat?”

  “Of course I am,” Hollypaw snapped. “One day you’ll be waiting for me to come out of the medicine den!”

  “They’re only teasing you,” Lionpaw soothed her. He thought it was odd that Daisy’s kits were all going to the Gathering, while the Clanborn kits, Cinderpaw, Honeypaw, and Poppypaw, were staying behind. I guess it’s only fair, he decided. Three Clanborn apprentices and three non-Clan. He sighed. At least, it would have been three, if only…

  He looked at Jaypaw, crouching in the entrance of their den, and sighed. He had been sitting there since sundown, forbidden to go to the Gathering as punishment for the adventure that had ended with his half drowning in the lake. Now he glowered angrily out of the shadows, his sightless blue gaze fixed on his brother and sister joking with Daisy’s kits as they waited to leave.

  Why did he have to be so reckless? It was harder now that they were apprentices—Lionpaw’s duties kept him so busy that he could not keep an eye on Jaypaw, as he used to when they were kits. He felt a flash of guilt but pushed it quickly away. His first responsibility was to the Clan now. Jaypaw would have to learn to be more sensible.

  He padded over to his brother and smoothed the fur between his ears with his tongue. “I wish you were coming,” he mewed.

  “You’re the only one who does,” Jaypaw grumbled.

  “You know that’s not true,” Lionpaw argued. “It’s your own fault you’ve been confined to camp.”

  “Perhaps Firestar just doesn’t want a blind cat at the Gathering.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it doesn’t look good having an apprentice like me in the Clan,” Jaypaw growled.

  Was that true? Before Lionpaw could say anything, he heard Firestar’s call.

  “I have to go,” he told Jaypaw. “But I’ll tell you all about it when we get back.”

  He ran after the other apprentices, who were already racing toward the entrance. Firestar padded to the head of the party and, with a sharp nod, bounded away through the tunnel. Lionpaw charged after his Clanmates, his heart soaring as their paws drummed the forest floor. He felt Hollypaw’s pelt brushing his, rippling with excitement. A moment later they burst out of the tunnel and charged up the slope.

  They raced past Sky Oak and down to the lake. The pebbles on the shore clattered beneath their paws. The stones grazed L
ionpaw’s pads but he didn’t care; he could already see the island on the far side, rising from the water, crowded with trees. Their slender leafless branches reached up to the star-pricked sky, trembling like whiskers, and Lionpaw flicked his tail excitedly.

  As the cats began the long trek through WindClan territory, Firestar steadied the pace. They passed the horseplace, where Daisy used to live, and crossed into RiverClan territory, always keeping within five tail-lengths of the waterline, as agreed by all the Clans. The ground became muddier as they neared the island. Lionpaw slowed down after he nearly slipped. He didn’t want to arrive covered in mud. He could make out dark shapes streaming over the fallen tree that bridged the gap between shore and island. The scent of WindClan mingled with the scents of ShadowClan and RiverClan; the other Clans were arriving.

  “Will you mention the border markers?” Lionpaw heard his father meow. He peered past Mousepaw and Spiderleg and saw Brambleclaw keeping pace with Firestar.

  “Do you mean the fact that ShadowClan and WindClan have marked every tree and blade of grass on our borders?” Firestar asked.

  “Yes,” Brambleclaw replied.

  “I can’t dictate what the other Clans do in their territory,” Firestar reminded him.

  “But it’s an open show of hostility!” Brambleclaw growled.

  “We’re not going to react,” Firestar told him. “Yet.”

  “Firestar’s right.” Ashfur hurried to catch up with them. “It would be better to send out more frequent border patrols than give the other Clans the satisfaction of knowing they’ve got us worried.”

  “It takes more than the stench of ShadowClan to worry us!” Firestar declared. He broke into a run, bounding the last few tail-lengths to the fallen tree, and skidded to a halt by the withered roots.