The Sight

He took another tiny bite from his mouse. He could sense Brightheart watching him from where she sat by the halfrock.

She was sharing tongues with Dustpelt, but her gaze kept flicking back to him. He could feel her frustration like thorns in his pelt. What did she expect of him? Was he supposed to be happy about cleaning out dens instead of learning how to hunt and fight? Even though he was confined to camp, there was enough space in the clearing for her to teach him some battle moves. But she seemed interested only in making him run around looking after his Clanmates. Was that all she thought he was good for?

“Hurry up, Jaypaw,” Brightheart called. “Once you finish Graystripe’s den, I promised Ferncloud that you’d play with her kits while she went hunting. She hasn’t been out of the camp for two moons.”

Jaypaw lashed his tail. “And when am I going to get to hunt?”

“Once you’ve learned to serve your Clan without complaining,” Brightheart told him mildly.

Jaypaw heard an amused purr rumble in Dustpelt’s throat.

“You’ll have to take him out eventually, Brightheart,” he meowed. “Before he drives us all crazy.”

“It was Firestar who confined him to camp,” Brightheart pointed out.

“I’m sure you could persuade Firestar that Jaypaw needs to be out training,” Dustpelt argued.

Jaypaw’s heart skipped with hope.

“There’s more to being a warrior than hunting and fighting,” Brightheart replied.

The thorn barrier rattled. The dawn patrol had returned.

Whitewing, Ashfur, Lionpaw, Spiderleg, and Mousepaw carried the scent of the forest temptingly into the clearing. And yet Jaypaw could sense anxiety among them; Ashfur was lashing his tail while Whitewing padded in agitated circles.

Brambleclaw swished out through the entrance of the warriors’ den, followed by Squirrelflight. “Anything to report?”

“ShadowClan are marking every tree along the border,”

Ashfur replied, his mew sharp with anger.

Jaypaw felt an explosion of energy as Graystripe leaped to his paws. “Are ShadowClan up to their old tricks already?”

the warrior spat. “If any of them set paw on ThunderClan territory while I’m on patrol, I’ll claw their ears off.”

“They haven’t crossed the new border yet,” Brambleclaw informed him. “So we’ve decided to ignore them.”

Graystripe snorted. “Ignore ShadowClan? You may as well try to ignore the wind and the rain—it won’t stop you from getting cold and wet!”

“That may be how it was in the forest,” Brambleclaw meowed. “But it’s not necessarily the best thing to do here.”

“Things are different since the Great Journey,”

Squirrelflight added.

“Not so different that we should trust ShadowClan!”

Ashfur growled. “Some cats will always try to take what another cat has.”

Jaypaw sensed his mother flinch, as though stung. What did Ashfur mean, exactly?

“ShadowClan will always push for more than is rightfully theirs!” Dustpelt agreed.

Jaypaw’s whiskers quivered. He knew there had been dark mutterings about Firestar’s decision to give up territory to ShadowClan, but now the warriors were openly agreeing with Graystripe. Shouldn’t they be loyal to their leader first?

“Firestar has decided to ignore ShadowClan for now.”

Brambleclaw kept his voice steady, but Jaypaw could tell he was watching and listening for the slightest sign of rebellion among his Clanmates.

Pebbles clattered from Highledge as Firestar leaped down into the clearing. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Graystripe feels that we shouldn’t ignore ShadowClan,”

Brambleclaw replied.

“I think Graystripe’s right,” Firestar meowed.

Jaypaw waited for his father to object, but Brambleclaw remained silent.

“Graystripe may not have been in our new home for long,”

Firestar went on. “But he knows ShadowClan of old. I agree with him—ShadowClan will keep pressing on our borders unless we make a stand.”

“That’s not what you said before the Gathering,”

Brambleclaw meowed quietly.

“But at the Gathering, ShadowClan were obviously looking for trouble,” Firestar reminded him. “I didn’t want to overreact before, but now I think we need to do something

to show them we are ready to defend our borders.”

Why didn’t you tell me this before? Jaypaw felt the question burning in his father’s mind.

“Are we going to fight them?” Ashfur asked.

“Not unless we have to,” Firestar replied.

“But we must increase patrols along the border,” Dustpelt put in.

Firestar nodded. “And we’ll start matching ShadowClan’s markers, tree for tree. If they think they can intimidate us into giving up more territory, they are wrong.”

“Very well, Firestar,” Brambleclaw meowed. “Stormfur and Brook can mark the trees along the ShadowClan border while Squirrelflight leads the hunting patrol as planned.”

Dustpelt shifted uneasily. “Surely it would be better to let Squirrelflight’s patrol mark the ShadowClan border? Their scent markers are pure ThunderClan and will send a stronger message to ShadowClan.”

Jaypaw felt resentment flash from Stormfur; he half expected the gray warrior to lunge at Dustpelt and rake his flank with thorn-sharp claws. But Brook got to her paws before Stormfur could react.

“There is truth in Dustpelt’s words,” she conceded.

“But ShadowClan must know by now that you and

Stormfur are ThunderClan,” Whitewing argued.

“In a battle over boundaries, it is better to make things as clear as possible,” Ashfur meowed.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the hollow until Firestar decided, “Squirrelflight will lead her patrol to mark

the ShadowClan border. Stormfur and Brook can hunt.”

As the patrols assembled, Jaypaw gulped down the rest of his meal and got to his paws. He didn’t want to watch his Clanmates head out into the forest, while he wished he could go with them. He might as well get Graystripe’s den cleaned.

He scanned the camp for Brightheart and found her with Leafpool outside the medicine cat’s den.

“Where shall I get clean moss if I can’t leave the camp?” he demanded, interrupting them. He turned to Leafpool. “Have you got any to spare?” He knew she kept clean bedding in case of injured cats.

“There’s some inside my den,” Leafpool told him. “Help yourself. Hollypaw’s out looking for borage. She can fetch more moss when she gets back.”

Brightheart’s pelt bristled as he brushed past her, and he heard her whisper to Leafpool, “I don’t think I’m making him very happy so far. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

How about realizing that having one eye doesn’t make you so much better than me?

The clean moss was easy to sniff out, piled at one side of the cave. Jaypaw picked up a large wad in his jaws. The fresh, grassy taste reminded him of his adventure into WindClan territory. He may have ended up in the lake, but at least for one morning he had been free.

Before he reached the trailing brambles at the entrance to Leafpool’s den, he heard Firestar’s hushed mew outside.

Brightheart had gone, and Firestar was talking to Leafpool.