Erin Hunter
Warriors - Power of Three #1
THE SIGHT
Prologue
A cat padded up the steep path toward the opening, nar-rowing his eyes as he neared. His flame-colored pelt glowed in the moonlight. His ears twitched, and the bristling of his fur gave away his unease as he sat down at the mouth of the cave and curled his tail across his paws. “You asked me to come.”
From the shadows, a pair of eyes blinked at him—eyes as blue as water reflecting the summer sky. A gray tom, scarred by time and battle, was waiting in the entrance.
“Firestar.” The warrior stepped forward and brushed the ThunderClan leader’s cheek with his white-flecked muzzle. “I have to thank you.” His mew was hoarse with age. “You have rebuilt the lost Clan. No cat could have done better.”
“There’s no need for thanks.” Firestar dipped his head. “I did only what I had to.”
The old warrior nodded, blinking thoughtfully. “Do you think you have been a good leader for ThunderClan?”
Firestar tensed. “I don’t know,” he mewed. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve always tried to do what is right for my Clan.”
“No cat would doubt your loyalty,” the old cat rasped. “But how far would it go?”
Firestar’s eyes glittered uncertainly as he searched for the words to answer.
“There are difficult times ahead,” the warrior went on before Firestar could reply. “And your loyalty will be tested to the utmost. Sometimes the destiny of one cat is not the des-tiny of the whole Clan.”
Suddenly the old cat rose stiffly to his paws and stared past Firestar. It seemed he no longer saw the ThunderClan leader but gazed far beyond, to something Firestar could not see.
When he spoke again, the ancient rasp was smoothed from his voice, as though some other cat used his tongue.
“I don’t understand,” Firestar meowed. “Kin of my kin? Why are you telling me this?”
The old warrior blinked, his gaze fixed once more on Firestar.
“You must tell me more!” Firestar demanded. “How can I decide what I ought to do if you don’t explain?”
The old cat took a deep breath, but when he spoke it was only to say, “Farewell, Firestar. In seasons to come, remember me.”
Firestar jerked awake, his belly tight with fear. He blinked with relief when he saw the familiar stone walls of his den in the hollow by the lake. Morning sunlight streamed through the split in the rock. The warmth on his fur soothed him.
He heaved himself to his paws and shook his head, trying to dislodge the dream. But this was no ordinary dream, for he remembered being in that cave as clearly as if it had happened a moon ago, rather than the many, many seasons he had lived since then. When the old warrior cast his strange prophecy, Firestar’s daughters had not been born and the four Clans had still lived in the forest. The prophecy had followed him on the Great Journey over the mountains and settled with him in his new home by the lake; and every full moon, the memory of it returned to fill his dreams. Even Sandstorm, who slept beside him, knew nothing of the words he had shared with the ancient cat.
He gazed out from his den at the waking camp below. His deputy, Brambleclaw, was stretching in the center of the clearing, flexing his powerful shoulders as he clawed at the ground. Squirrelflight padded toward her mate, greeting him with a purr.
Chapter 1
“Wait for me!” he wailed. He could hear his mother’s voice ahead, her warm body always a few steps out of reach.
“You’ll never catch it!”
A high-pitched mew sliced into his dream, and Jaykit woke with a start. He pricked his ears, listening to the familiar sounds of the bramble nursery. His sister and brother scrabbling in play. Ferncloud lapping her dozing kits. There was no snow now; he was in the camp, safe and warm. He could smell his mother’s nest, empty but still fresh with her scent.
“Oof!” He let out a gasp of surprise as his sister, Hollykit, landed heavily on top of him. “Watch out!”
“You’re awake at last!” She rolled off him and pushed her hind paws into his flank. With a leap, she twisted away and grasped for something just out of reach.
Mouse! Jaykit could smell it. His brother and sister must
be playing catch with fresh-kill newly brought into camp. He sprang to his paws and gave a quick stretch that sent a shiver through his small body.
“Catch this, Jaykit!” Hollykit mewed. The mouse whistled past his ear.
“Slow slug!” she teased as he turned too late to grab it.
“I’ve got it!” Lionkit called. He pounced on the fresh-kill, his paws thudding on the nursery’s packed earth floor.
Jaykit wasn’t going to let his brother steal the prize from him so easily. He might be the smallest in the litter, but he was fast. He leaped toward Lionkit, knocking him out of the way and stretching his forepaw to reach for the mouse.
He landed in a clumsy skid and rolled over, feeling a jolt of alarm as he realized it wasn’t moss underneath him, but the squirming warmth of Ferncloud’s two tiny kits. Ferncloud gave him a shove, pushing him away with her hind paws.
Jaykit gasped. “Have I hurt them?”
“Of course not,” Ferncloud snapped. “You’re too small to squash a flea!” Foxkit and Icekit mewled as she tucked them closer into her belly. “But you three are getting too rough for the nursery!”
“Sorry, Ferncloud,” Hollykit mewed.
“Sorry,” Jaykit echoed, apologetic even though Ferncloud’s comment on his size had stung him. At least the
