The Sight

Thanks for the information. Jaypaw cracked the flea between his teeth.

“And sounds, of course,” Longtail added. “I can sometimes hear the mice moving at the top of the hollow. I never would have noticed that before. You should make sure you listen really well, all the time.”

Jaypaw began to check the fur around Longtail’s scruff. A tick was lodged behind the warrior’s ear.

“When it comes to hunting, it’ll help to have sharp hearing and smell. Prey is always hard to see, but smelling it is easy.

Even when I could see, it was usually the scent or sound of prey that told me where it was hiding.”

You’ll be telling me that a fresh mouse tastes juicier than a stale one next, Jaypaw thought, tugging at the tick harder than he needed to.

“Ow!” Longtail complained.

“How’s it going in here?” Brightheart’s voice sounded at the den entrance. “Have you finished?”

“I think so.” Jaypaw looked hopefully toward Mousefur.

“You don’t have any ticks, do you?”

“Only one in my side, but I can reach it myself,” she replied.

Jaypaw turned to his mentor. “I’ve finished, then.”

Brightheart began bundling pawfuls of fresh moss into the den. “Good. Spread this out and then come with me,” she meowed. “I’m going to show you the territory around the camp.”

At last! Hollypaw and Lionpaw had been out for ages.

“Good luck!” Longtail called as Jaypaw followed Brightheart out of the den.

She led him out of the camp and up the steep slope that

led lakeward. “This trail leads to the top of the ridge,”

Brightheart explained. “It’s steep.”

“Okay.” Jaypaw decided not to tell her that he could already feel the slope beneath his paws. He followed his mentor as she weaved through the trees, feeling the damp leaves slippery underpaw.

“Watch out!” Brightheart called, but Jaypaw could smell the bark ahead of him and swerved just in time to avoid the tree, his whiskers grazing the trunk.

“The trees are thick here, but there’s not too much undergrowth.”

“Oh.” Jaypaw breathed in the scent of a mouse trail as the ground began to flatten out.

“We’re at the top of the ridge now,” Brightheart told him.

“Follow my scent and I’ll lead you along the crest.”

“Right.” He could tell by the slope of the land that the forest fell away on either side; it felt as though they were climbing the spine of a great cat.

“If we go up this trail, we’ll be out of the trees soon.”

Jaypaw was beginning to feel out of breath, so he didn’t reply. He listened to the flies buzzing around him and shook his head when they tickled his ears.

“We’re out of the trees now, so don’t worry about bumping into anything,” Brightheart meowed. Jaypaw knew they had left the cover of the forest. A light, damp wind brushed his face.

“Stop here,” Brightheart meowed. But Jaypaw had already halted, feeling the land drop steeply away at his pawtips.

Scents flooded him—distant, strange smells he didn’t know yet—and he could hear water lapping far below. He knew that they were looking out over the forest and lake.

“We’ve followed the ridge out of the forest and right up to the end,” Brightheart explained. “The land slopes down steeply from here to the lake. RiverClan territory is across the water. Over where the sun sets is ShadowClan territory.

And if you look back toward where the sun rises you’ll be able to see—” She broke off abruptly.

For the first time that day, Jaypaw felt sorry for his mentor. She must have hoped that her first apprentice would be a healthy kit she wouldn’t have to make special allowances for.

If only she realized that he didn’t want any special allowances, that he didn’t need them.

“I might not be able to see what you see,” he told her, “but I can tell a lot from what I can hear and smell and feel.” He lifted his nose. “I know ShadowClan is over there, not just because the stench of them is strong enough to scare a rabbit, but because the tang of the pines tells me there can’t be much undergrowth, so the cats who hunt there must be cunning and good at stalking.” He turned his head. “And over there I can smell the moorland. The wind comes in a great unbroken sweep, undisturbed by trees. The WindClan cats who live there must be fast and small to hunt in such open country.”

Then he gazed at the lake in front of them. “I know RiverClan live across the lake, though I can’t smell their scent. It’s hidden by the scents from the lake, which are stronger today because of the wind. But I know that

RiverClan will feel the coming rain first because the wind is driving the waves this way—I can hear them slapping against the shore.”

“You can tell all that without seeing it?”

“Yes, of course.”

Suddenly Brightheart stiffened. She was listening intently, ears pricked. “A patrol is coming,” she announced.

Jaypaw had heard it already. A ThunderClan patrol was climbing the ridge toward them, rustling though the bracken and heather. He knew from the scents that it was Dustpelt, Hazelpaw, Thornclaw, and Poppypaw, but he didn’t say so out loud. He was pleased he had impressed Brightheart with his description of what was around them, but he didn’t want her to think he was showing off.

“Hi!” Poppypaw bounded out from the bracken first.

Thornclaw followed with Dustpelt and Hazelpaw close on his heels. “You’re out of the camp at last!” Poppypaw mewed.

“Isn’t it great being an apprentice?” Hazelpaw added. “I still remember my first day. I was so excited!”

I bet your first day as an apprentice was more exciting than this.

“We’ve just done a border patrol,” Hazelpaw went on.

“And now we’re going to do battle training in the mossy clearing!” Poppypaw finished.

“Great,” Jaypaw muttered.

“You can come with us!” Poppypaw suggested suddenly. She turned to her mentor, Thornclaw. “He can come, can’t he?”

“Perhaps another day,” Brightheart meowed.

“We haven’t finished exploring our territory,” she

explained, addressing Jaypaw as much as Poppypaw.

“Oh, okay,” Poppypaw mewed.

“Where are you heading now?” Thornclaw asked Brightheart.

“I’m going to show Jaypaw the old Thunderpath.”

Thornclaw paused. “You’ll be careful?” he cautioned.

“Don’t stray over the ShadowClan border.”

Jaypaw bristled. They might have only one eye between them, but they weren’t idiots! As he prepared to snarl a reply, Brightheart mewed sharply, “I know a border marker when I smell it!”

Jaypaw sensed a flash of reproach shoot from Dustpelt.

“Firestar trusted Brightheart with Jaypaw,” he reminded Thornclaw quietly.

Thornclaw’s paws rustled on the leafy forest floor. “Of course,” he acknowledged. “Sorry, Brightheart.”

Brightheart met his apology with stony silence, and Jaypaw felt a prick of satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who felt patronized by the other warriors.

“There’s a steep slope ahead of us,” Brightheart warned as they set off.

You don’t say! Jaypaw bit back the sharp reply, feeling the curve of the ground under his paws.

“Can you manage it?”

“Of course I can.” Angrily Jaypaw stepped forward. To his surprise, the ground dropped away much more steeply than he expected, and he half fell, half skidded down the muddy

slope, scrabbling to slow his descent until a clump of heather slowed it for him.