Erin Hunter - Leafpool’s Wish

The smallest kit was still unnamed and his eyes were tight shut. As Leafpool went to fish him out of a snowdrift, he blinked and Leafpool was dazzled by a flash of brilliant blue. “Like a jay’s wing!” she gasped.

Squirrelflight bounded over, snow clinging to her belly fur, and looked down at the tom. “Then we should call him Jaykit, don’t you think?”

Leafpool nodded. And one day you will be Jayfeather, like your father.

Jaykit ran in a circle and blundered straight back into the snowdrift. Squirrelflight hooked him out with an amused purr. “You can watch where you’re going now that your eyes are open!” she teased.

Lionkit squeaked and Jaykit tottered in the direction of the sound. Leafpool looked around for her daughter. She was wrestling with a leaf, biting it with her tiny teeth and clawing at the edges. “Come on, fierce little warrior,” Leafpool called. “Back to the nest to warm up!”

The kits only stayed still long enough for Leafpool to lick their fur clean before they tumbled out of the nest and started exploring the inside of the tree. Lionkit found the dry clump of moss that Leafpool had drunk from during the birth, and he started rolling it around with angry little growls in his throat. Hollykit watched for a moment, her head on one side, before running over to join him. Bits of moss flew up as they tussled with their prey.

Leafpool noticed Jaykit marching across the den. Suddenly he slipped on a wet leaf and bumped his nose against the bark wall. Leafpool was ready to comfort him, but the little cat shook his head, then changed direction and headed for the moss game instead. Hollykit stopped playing and sat back to let him have a turn shredding the ball. There wasn’t much left but a few scraps once Lionkit had finished shaking it in his teeth. Leafpool felt a rush of love for her brave, strong son and her gentle, thoughtful daughter. But there was a special place in her heart for her smallest kit, who seemed oddly vulnerable compared with his littermates.

Half a moon passed. The snow began to thaw and the she-cats basked in an unexpected and welcome patch of sunshine outside the hollow tree. In front of them, Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit were pushing fronds of dead bracken into a pile, then leaping off a grassy tussock into the middle.

“I can jump the highest! Watch me!” mewed Lionkit. He sprang into the air with his sturdy forelegs outstretched and plunged into the ferns.

“And me!” squeaked Jaykit. He leaped off the tussock and there was a muffled yelp as he landed squarely on his brother, who was still wriggling free.

“Jaykit, look out!” Hollykit piped. She was purring with amusement. “You’re so silly!”

The little toms scrambled out of the bracken with their fur full of spiky brown prickles.

“I think we’ve just seen some flying hedgehogs,” joked Squirrelflight. “Come here, you two. Let’s clean you up.”

Lionkit ignored her. “That was fun! Let’s do it again!” He scampered back to the tussock.

“Wait for me!” Jaykit chirped.

Leafpool shook her head. “They have so much energy!” she exclaimed.

“They’re growing fast,” Squirrelflight agreed. There was a pause, and it seemed to Leafpool as if the whole forest was waiting. “You know we should take them back,” Squirrelflight mewed.

Leafpool closed her eyes. “I wish we didn’t have to,” she whispered. “They’re so happy here.”

“I know. But we don’t have a choice. If we stay here any longer, the kits might remember too much…”

Leafpool stared at her kits as if she would never see them again. Will they remember this time? she wondered. Will there always be some part of them that knows the truth? She knew that Squirrelflight would love them, but what about Brambleclaw? And through Brambleclaw, Tigerstar? Does he know that these kits have been born? Leafpool stared at Lionkit in alarm. Will Tigerstar lure him to the Dark Forest as well?

Suddenly there was a wail, and Leafpool realized Jaykit had vanished. Lionkit and Hollykit were standing on top of the tussock with their backs to the she-cats, looking down.

“Jaykit fell in a hole!” Lionkit called. “I think he’s stuck.”

“Jaykit’s a mouse-brain!” mewed Hollykit.

“Hush,” Leafpool chided, bounding over to take a look. The little gray tom had vanished into the gap where a sapling had stood before being wrenched out of the soil by a storm. Only the tips of his ears were visible against the brown earth.

“Help!” he wailed.

Leafpool braced her hindpaws in the loose soil and leaned down into the hole. “Wriggle this way, Jaykit,” she panted. She felt his feather-soft fur brush against her muzzle, and reached down to grip his scruff in her teeth. With a heave, she dragged herself backward and hauled him out of the hole.

Jaykit crouched down and shook himself, sending earth flying. He gazed up at Leafpool with eyes as clear as the sky. “Thank you for rescuing me!” he chirped. “That was a really big adventure, wasn’t it?”

“Yes it was,” purred Leafpool. She looked into her son’s eyes. They were so beautiful, and yet…

She looked over her shoulder. “There’s a big leaf over there, Jaykit,” she mewed. “Please could you fetch it for me so I can wipe the mud off my fur?”

“I’ll get it!” Hollykit offered, jumping down from the tussock.

“It’s okay, Jaykit can manage,” Leafpool meowed. She watched as her son trotted away from her. He paused when his paws crunched onto the edge of a dead leaf.

“Is this the one?” he called.

“Find the biggest leaf you can, please!” Leafpool told him.

Jaykit lowered his muzzle and brushed his whiskers over the leaf under his paws. He moved sideways and did the same to the next leaf. With a satisfied grunt, he picked up the second leaf and carried it back to Leafpool, almost tripping over the bottom edge.

“Thank you, little one,” Leafpool praised him. “That will get me very clean.” She watched him trot back to his littermates.

“What was all that about?” Squirrelflight asked. “Are you getting him ready for apprentice duties?”

Leafpool shook her head. “He didn’t choose the biggest leaf,” she murmured. “And did you see the way he only stopped when he was standing on them, and how he measured the size of the leaves with his whiskers?”

Squirrelflight looked curiously at her. “Am I missing something?”

Leafpool took a deep breath. “I think Jaykit is blind.”

“Blind? Are you sure?”

Leafpool nodded. Squirrelflight stared at the gray kit as he bundled against Lionkit, growling like the tiniest badger. Lionkit turned and batted him very gently with his paw.

“Poor little thing,” Squirrelflight murmured. “What sort of life will he have?”

“The same as his littermates, of course,” Leafpool snapped.

Squirrelflight’s eyes were troubled. “But blind cats can’t be warriors! Longtail had to join the elders’ den as soon as he lost his sight. What place is there in a Clan for a cat who cannot see?”

“There is an equal place for Jaykit as any of these kits!” Leafpool hissed. “I will make sure of it, even if you won’t. Look at him! He doesn’t know there is anything different about him!”

The she-cats watched the three kits tumbling on the damp grass. When Jaykit rolled too close to a patch of brambles, Hollykit nudged him away from the thorns, then pounced on his tail with a squeal.

“His littermates already know how to look after him,” Leafpool pointed out. Her heart ached. Be brave, my little son. I will always walk beside you, I promise.

They left the hollow tree at the next sunrise. It was cold and calm, but drifts of snow still lay under the trees in the densest parts of the woods. The kits started out full of enthusiasm, but quickly became tired when their stumpy legs sank into the snow and their fur grew clogged and heavy. Leafpool felt exhausted too, uncomfortably full of milk and with a stabbing ache deep in her belly. Squirrelflight darted from one to the other, hoisting the kits out of clumps of snow and nudging Jaykit when he sat down and refused to move.