Erin Hunter - The Sight

“Hollypaw put me off!” Lionpaw complained.

“A good warrior is never distracted,” Ashfur meowed. The pale gray warrior had stopped to watch the two apprentices.

Lionpaw scrambled to his paws, prickling with embarrassment.

Hollypaw was trotting around them in circles. “Leafpool wants me to collect some tansy in case this cold weather brings whitecough,” she panted excitedly. “She says there’s a clump by the old Thunderpath, and she asked if I could join your patrol to fetch some.” She looked around. “Where’s Brambleclaw?”

“Giving orders to Dustpelt,” Ashfur answered.

As he spoke, Brambleclaw bounded over from halfrock.

Graystripe was with him.

“Mind if I join you?” the gray warrior asked Ashfur. “I want to get familiar with the territory and see how the prey runs here.”

“That’s fine with me,” Ashfur agreed. He nodded at Hollypaw. “We’ve got an extra apprentice, too.”

Lionpaw hadn’t been out with both Hollypaw and Jaypaw since their attempt to track down the fox cubs. They quickly fell into their familiar grouping: Hollypaw a pawstep ahead, and Lionpaw letting his pelt brush against Jaypaw’s just enough to help him through the trees.

They headed deep into the forest, picking up the clearest route along the old Thunderpath. Lionpaw had been along it before, when Ashfur had shown him around ThunderClan territory. But he had never followed it all the way past the abandoned Twoleg nest.

Hollypaw was scanning the undergrowth on either side of the track.

“It looks a lot like yarrow,” Jaypaw whispered to her. “But it tastes more like grass than mouse bile.”

“I know!” Hollypaw snapped.

Why was Jaypaw helping her? Lionpaw wondered. Hollypaw was the medicine cat apprentice, not him.

She flicked her tail toward a clump of long-stemmed plants with thin, spiky leaves. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Have you found some?” Brambleclaw halted in the middle of the path.

The cats waited as Hollypaw bit into a leaf. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then swallowed.

“Not bitter at all,” she reported. “It’s tansy.”

“You’d better collect some and take it back to camp,” Brambleclaw meowed.

Hollypaw’s eyes clouded with disappointment. “Leafpool doesn’t need it right away.”

“It might not be safe for her to go back to camp on her own,” Lionpaw pointed out, guessing his sister wanted a chance to stay out for a while. “Not with the fox cubs about.”

“And don’t forget the competition,” Ashfur meowed. “We don’t want to waste time escorting her back.”

“If you’re sure Leafpool doesn’t need it urgently…?”

Brambleclaw prompted Hollypaw.

Her eyes brightened. “It was only for the store.”

“We’ll collect some on our way back, then,” Brambleclaw agreed. He leaped away, heading into the shadowy woods.

Lionpaw waited on the Thunderpath for Jaypaw and Brightheart to disappear among the trees with the others before following them in. Even in leaf-bare, the undergrowth here was thick. But without their leafy covering the plants looked like tall, thin skeletons littering the forest floor.

Lionpaw’s breath came in clouds as the patrol padded quietly over the frozen ground. Graystripe turned back to face them. “There’s no scent of fox here,” he meowed. “And not too much cover for prey. This looks like a good spot to start the hunt.”

Ashfur looked from Berrypaw to Lionpaw. “Who wants to go first?”

“There’s a mouse over there,” Jaypaw announced casually.

For the first time Lionpaw wondered if his brother felt left out of the hunting contest. But Jaypaw held his chin high and flicked his tail toward the base of an oak tree several fox-lengths away. Ashfur jerked his head around in surprise.

“It’s dug under the frozen leaves into the ground,” Jaypaw told them.

Lionpaw pricked his ears. Sure enough, he could hear the scrabble of tiny paws against cold earth, though very faintly.

And there was the musty scent of freshly turned leaf litter in the air.

“Lionpaw,” Brambleclaw hissed quietly. “You have a try.”

One stealthy pawstep at a time, Lionpaw crept toward the scuffling noise. He let each pad sink slowly onto the hard ground, so that his steps made no sound. The scuffling carried on as Lionpaw drew close enough to drop into a hunting crouch. Squatting with his muzzle outstretched, he let his tail rest on the earth behind him. He could smell the mouse now, and saw a slight movement in the leaves.

“Brambleclaw!”

The mouse scuttled out of the leaves and disappeared among the roots of a tree. Hissing with anger, Lionpaw spun around to see who had ruined his catch.

Birchfall exploded from the undergrowth and skidded to a halt. “ShadowClan have moved the border! They’ve put a new line of scent marks inside ThunderClan territory!”

“Where?” Brambleclaw demanded.

“I’ll show you.” Without waiting, Birchfall headed away through the trees.

“Where’s Dustpelt?” Brambleclaw called after him.

“Heading back to camp to warn Firestar,” came the reply.

Brambleclaw turned to Brightheart. “You’d better come with us. I’m not risking leaving you while those fox cubs are still around.”

Brightheart narrowed her eyes. “What about Jaypaw? Will he be able to keep up?”

“Don’t let him out of your sight, and keep as close to us as you can,” Brambleclaw ordered. He glanced at Ashfur. “Stay near them.” Then he nodded to Graystripe. “Come with me.”

Brambleclaw bounded after Birchfall, Graystripe following. Lionpaw pelted after them, the mouse forgotten.

Hollypaw raced at his side. He could hear the pawsteps of Ashfur, Brightheart, and Jaypaw pounding behind. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his brother weaving through the trees as easily as a sighted cat. He must be guided by StarClan! he thought in astonishment. He turned back to look ahead, his pelt bristling as he ran. Had ShadowClan really dared to move the border?

Birchfall led them back along the Thunderpath before veering into the forest and up the slope that led to the ShadowClan border. He skidded to a halt near the top.

“Here!” he gasped, flicking his tail to indicate the line of birches that followed the ridge.

Lionpaw sniffed the nearest trunk and wrinkled his nose.

It was true. ShadowClan had marked ThunderClan trees.

“Isn’t this the original border?” Graystripe asked.

“No!” Brambleclaw hissed. “The border is there.” He pointed his muzzle to the top of the rise where the trees gave way to the grassy clearing.

“Did they think we wouldn’t notice?” Hollypaw spat.

Ashfur raced out of the bracken behind them, followed by Brightheart and Jaypaw.

Jaypaw’s hackles rose. “ShadowClan warriors nearby!” he warned.

As he spoke, three ShadowClan cats stalked over the rise and stood staring down at the ThunderClan patrol.

“Oakfur!” Brambleclaw hissed, staring at the small brown tom who led the trio. Lionpaw recognized the two others from the Gathering—Owlpaw and his mentor, Smokefoot.

“A blind kit noticed us before the ThunderClan deputy knew we were here,” Oakfur sneered. “How humiliating.”

“Is ThunderClan so desperate for warriors that it needs to train even its most worthless kit?” snarled Smokefoot.

Jaypaw rushed forward, spitting. Brightheart grabbed his tail in her teeth and hauled him backward.

“A blind kit saved by a one-eyed warrior,” mocked Oakfur.

“ThunderClan isn’t what it used to be. Filled with kittypets and cripples and worn-out deputies.” He glared at Graystripe.

“You’ve moved the border,” Brambleclaw growled.