The Sight

praying to StarClan she wouldn’t see him. She paused a moment more and then carried on back through the tunnel and into the camp.

Jaypaw let out a sigh of relief and scrambled out of the bracken, shaking a scrap of dried leaf from his ear. He quickly found the path that he and Brightheart had taken yesterday.

If Brightheart wasn’t going to show him the whole of ThunderClan territory, he would explore it by himself. He would start by going farther toward the lake. He had never been that far, and the fresh scents of wind and water excited him.

It was easy enough climbing the slope and following the ridge again, and when he came to the end of it, he was prepared this time for the steepness of the slope. He scrabbled down it, using his claws to slow his descent, and when he reached the heather bush that had stopped him last time he

headed away from the Thunderpath, in the opposite direction from the one they had taken yesterday.

Jaypaw followed the side of the ridge down through the trees. Weaving his way through the undergrowth was easy; he just followed his whiskers, padding confidently over the leaf-strewn forest floor. But gradually the trees and undergrowth began to thin out and the slope flattened. The ground became soft, no longer covered with leaves, but springy with moss. Heather brushed his pelt.

He tasted the air, wondering how far from the lake he was.

Yesterday the wind had flowed in over the water, and he had smelled it quite clearly. But today the wind blew from ThunderClan territory, giving no clue about the land ahead.

He listened for the slapping of water on the shore, but it sounded very distant, and it was hard to tell where it was coming from.

Suddenly his forepaw slipped into a dip in the ground. He had stumbled into a rabbit hole. His paw twisted beneath him and pain shot up his leg. Wincing, he scrambled out of the hole and licked his paw. It was not badly hurt, but it was several moments before he dared test it on the ground.

This isn’t like the woodland at all. For the first time he wondered if exploring on his own had been a good idea. But he was determined to reach the lake by himself. Gingerly he lowered his paw, relieved when it was able to take his weight.

He padded forward cautiously, shivering as water from the boggy ground seeped up and soaked the fur between his claws. Suddenly his forepaws sank deep into the peaty earth.

Freezing mud soaked his legs up to his chest. StarClan, help me!

He scrabbled backward, his hind claws gripping desperately onto the solid ground behind. With a frantic heave he freed his forepaws from the sucking mud and twisted his whole body, grabbing for the nearest clump of heather. He scrambled in among its bristly branches, and stood trembling on its sturdy web of roots.

I must test the ground before I step forward, he warned himself, his heart pounding so loud that it drowned out the noise of the waves and the wind. He reached out a tentative paw and poked the ground on the other side of the heather. It felt springy with moss but firm, and he slipped out from the heather and warily padded forward.

Concentrating hard, he felt his way forward, one slow pawstep at a time, always staying within reach of heather—

something to cling to if he lost his footing again. Little by little the ground underpaw grew firmer and drier. The land was sloping up again, and he sensed space opening before him.

Surer now, he began to relax. He sniffed the air. The wind still blew from behind him, carrying the familiar scent of home. He wondered for a moment if he should go back, but he pushed the thought away. I won’t give up!

He tried to build an image of the landscape in his mind, storing it so that the next time he was here he could travel more confidently. The springy moss was turning to smooth grass underpaw. He could hear the rustling of the forest far behind him. The sound of the lake rippling in the wind was louder now, making his paws prick with excitement. He quickened his

step, beginning to enjoy the freedom of the open space—the sun warm on his face, the wind tugging his fur.

Happily he sniffed the air again.

WindClan!

Alarm gripped him. The scent of WindClan cats was so strong here that it covered his own. And yet he hadn’t heard any movement around him. He was sure there were no cats nearby. Had he strayed across the border without realizing it?

Confused, he twisted around, hunting for the scent of home. He stepped backward, frightened—and without warning the land disappeared. He thrashed with his paws, trying to grasp some branch or rock, but there was nothing but a sheer, empty drop beneath him.

Then he hit water.

The shock of the cold water knocked the breath from him, so that he found himself flailing beneath the waves, his lungs screaming for air while he struggled to work out which way was up. Jaypaw tried to wail out loud, but water filled his mouth and his eyes and his ears.

I’m going to drown!

Suddenly a sharp tug on his scruff dragged him backward.

Something was heaving him through the water. Instinctively he stopped struggling and fell limp like a kit in its mother’s jaws. He let himself be wrenched upward until, his chest bursting, he broke the surface.

In his first gulp of air he swallowed a mouthful of water which made him cough and splutter until he thought he was going to be sick.

“Keep still!” a voice hissed through clenched teeth.

Jaypaw felt himself being tugged awkwardly through the rippling waves. His paws churned in the water as he felt for the bottom.

“Stop wriggling!” the voice hissed again, and Jaypaw suddenly felt pebbles scrape against his pelt as his rescuer hauled him out of the water and onto a stony beach.

He collapsed, retching and gasping. Paws began to work on his chest, pumping the water from him.

“Will he be okay?” The anxious mew of a young cat sounded close by.

Jaypaw was too shocked to make sense of the scents around him. “Who’s there? Are you warriors?” he rasped.

“What do you mean?” The voice sounded puzzled, then shocked. “He can’t see!”

“What in the name of StarClan is he doing out here by himself?” Jaypaw heard a deeper voice and recognized the angry hiss of his rescuer.

A rough tongue began to lick him, massaging his cold body.

Another tongue joined it, and he closed his eyes again and lay helpless, weak with shock, letting the rhythmic strokes soothe and warm him.

As his mind cleared, he realized that the cats were WindClan. Their scent was the same one that had been blown to him across the moorland the day before. And there were four of them, two older, two younger—warriors and their apprentices?

“Will he be okay, Whitetail?” one of the apprentices

mewed. She crept forward and crouched beside Jaypaw. He could feel her pelt trembling against his.

“He’ll be fine, Heatherpaw.” Not his rescuer, but a gentler voice, the mew of a female warrior. “Can you hear me?”

Jaypaw nodded. Clumsily he dragged himself into a sitting position. His ears were full of water, and he shook his head to clear them. Pebbles crackled as the WindClan cats leaped away from the droplets that sprayed from his waterlogged fur.

“Typical that a ThunderClan cat should thank us by trying to drown us!” Jaypaw had not heard this mew before. He guessed it belonged to the other apprentice—a tom, by the sound of it.

The older tom growled a stern reply. “Stop making a fuss, Breezepaw! It’s only a few drops of water.” Jaypaw felt warm breath on his cheek as the warrior leaned in close. “What were you doing so far from your camp?” he demanded. “Is there anyone with you?”

“Be gentle, Crowfeather,” Whitetail pleaded. “He’s had a bad shock.” Jaypaw felt a soft tongue lick his ear. “You’re safe now, little one.”