Erin Hunter - The Sight

“That’s not what you said before the Gathering,” Brambleclaw meowed quietly.

“But at the Gathering, ShadowClan were obviously looking for trouble,” Firestar reminded him. “I didn’t want to overreact before, but now I think we need to do something to show them we are ready to defend our borders.”

Why didn’t you tell me this before? Jaypaw felt the question burning in his father’s mind.

“Are we going to fight them?” Ashfur asked.

“Not unless we have to,” Firestar replied.

“But we must increase patrols along the border,” Dustpelt put in.

Firestar nodded. “And we’ll start matching ShadowClan’s markers, tree for tree. If they think they can intimidate us into giving up more territory, they are wrong.”

“Very well, Firestar,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Stormfur and Brook can mark the trees along the ShadowClan border while Squirrelflight leads the hunting patrol as planned.”

Dustpelt shifted uneasily. “Surely it would be better to let Squirrelflight’s patrol mark the ShadowClan border? Their scent markers are pure ThunderClan and will send a stronger message to ShadowClan.”

Jaypaw felt resentment flash from Stormfur; he half expected the gray warrior to lunge at Dustpelt and rake his flank with thorn-sharp claws. But Brook got to her paws before Stormfur could react.

“There is truth in Dustpelt’s words,” she conceded.

“But ShadowClan must know by now that you and Stormfur are ThunderClan,” Whitewing argued.

“In a battle over boundaries, it is better to make things as clear as possible,” Ashfur meowed.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the hollow until Firestar decided, “Squirrelflight will lead her patrol to mark the ShadowClan border. Stormfur and Brook can hunt.”

As the patrols assembled, Jaypaw gulped down the rest of his meal and got to his paws. He didn’t want to watch his Clanmates head out into the forest, while he wished he could go with them. He might as well get Graystripe’s den cleaned.

He scanned the camp for Brightheart and found her with Leafpool outside the medicine cat’s den.

“Where shall I get clean moss if I can’t leave the camp?” he demanded, interrupting them. He turned to Leafpool. “Have you got any to spare?” He knew she kept clean bedding in case of injured cats.

“There’s some inside my den,” Leafpool told him. “Help yourself. Hollypaw’s out looking for borage. She can fetch more moss when she gets back.”

Brightheart’s pelt bristled as he brushed past her, and he heard her whisper to Leafpool, “I don’t think I’m making him very happy so far. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

How about realizing that having one eye doesn’t make you so much better than me?

The clean moss was easy to sniff out, piled at one side of the cave. Jaypaw picked up a large wad in his jaws. The fresh, grassy taste reminded him of his adventure into WindClan territory. He may have ended up in the lake, but at least for one morning he had been free.

Before he reached the trailing brambles at the entrance to Leafpool’s den, he heard Firestar’s hushed mew outside.

Brightheart had gone, and Firestar was talking to Leafpool.

Jaypaw dropped his moss and pricked his ears.

“I need you to share tongues with StarClan,” Firestar meowed softly to the medicine cat.

“You are worried about Graystripe,” Leafpool guessed.

“I have to know who ThunderClan’s rightful deputy is,” Firestar explained. “Vigil or no vigil, Graystripe was still alive when I appointed Brambleclaw.”

Leafpool paused. “Are you prepared for any answer they give?”

“Graystripe’s my friend. I owe him so much. But Brambleclaw is a brave and loyal warrior.” Firestar sighed.

“Whatever StarClan say, a decision must be made.”

“What if StarClan have no answer for you?”

“Then I will do what I think is best for the Clan.”

“I’ll visit the Moonpool,” Leafpool promised.

Jaypaw’s whiskers twitched with curiosity. He had heard about the Moonpool. It had always sounded so mysterious—a place where only medicine cats visited to share tongues with StarClan. Would Hollypaw get to go with Leafpool tonight?

As Firestar headed away, Jaypaw recognized Hollypaw’s quick step hurrying toward the medicine den. She halted beside Leafpool. “Are these the right leaves?”

Jaypaw smelled the familiar tang of borage.

“Yes,” Leafpool purred. “Well done, Hollypaw.”

“I knew I’d get it right in the end,” Hollypaw mewed happily.

Jaypaw picked up his wad of moss and nosed his way out through the brambles.

“You took your time,” Leafpool commented. Did she suspect that he had overheard his conversation with Firestar? If she did, she gave no sign. “Hollypaw,” she mewed, turning to her apprentice, “you’ll have to sort these leaves yourself.

Make sure you store only the undamaged ones. Damaged leaves will rot before they dry.”

“Won’t you be here to help?” Hollypaw asked.

“I have to go to the Moonpool,” Leafpool explained.

“But you don’t have to leave now. It’s not even sunhigh.”

“Moonhigh is early this season,” Leafpool explained. “I want to make sure I’m there in good time.”

“What if a cat needs treatment?’ Hollypaw mewed anxiously.

“You’ll be fine. Brightheart knows a lot of the herbs and berries,” Leafpool soothed. “Ask her if you need help.”

“Could you show me which herb is which one more time?”

Hollypaw pleaded.

“Okay,” Leafpool agreed. “But then I must go.”

The two cats disappeared inside the medicine den, leaving Jaypaw by himself. His mind was buzzing. He wasn’t going to stay in the camp cleaning out bedding all morning. If Leafpool was going to the Moonpool, he was going to follow her.

He carried the moss across the clearing and deposited it outside Graystripe’s den. Then he headed back toward Leafpool’s den, as if he were going to fetch some more, except this time he hurried straight past the entrance and slipped into the clump of brambles beside it. This was a corner of the hollow too overgrown to be used for sleeping or storing fresh-kill, and Jaypaw knew that the rock wall behind had crumbled enough to make it possible to climb to the top.

This was the fast route down from the forest that Brambleclaw had used when the patrol had discovered the trapped fox. It was steep, but Jaypaw hoped he could use it to get out of the camp without any cat noticing.

His heart pounding, he plunged through the brambles until he reached the cliff. Sniffing and feeling with his paws, he reached up and dug his claws into a bush rooted a tail-length up the stone. He hauled himself free of the bramble bush, then sniffed for the next hold. Little by little, grasping tussocks of grass for pawholds, he fought his way up, praying that he didn’t give himself away by sending loose stones clattering down into the camp. At last a fresh breeze ruffled his ears. He had reached the top of the hollow. Digging his claws into the soft grass, he dragged himself over the edge of the cliff.

Following the slope of the forest, he headed down the steep bank that led to the camp entrance. On familiar ground now, he stopped a fox-length from the bottom and wriggled backward into the bracken.

A moment later Leafpool came pattering over the forest floor. Jaypaw let her pass, then scampered after her, keeping to one side so that he was never directly behind her. The trees were a good shield, and he wove between them, following his instinct as much as his whiskers. The scent of WindClan soon began to taint the air. Leafpool was heading toward the hilly moorland. But she did not cross the border; instead she veered toward the sun and kept going until the land grew steeper and the trees began to thin.