“Fox dung!” he spat.
He heard Fish Leap let out a mrrow of laughter, and felt the tabby tom’s teeth sink into his scruff as he hauled him out.
“Are you okay?” Dawn River checked.
Jaypaw shook loose earth out of his pelt. “I’m fine.”
As they padded on he made a determined effort to watch where he was putting his paws, but it was difficult. Light dazzled him, and he was distracted by the flickering of leaves and trees looming up in front of him. The senses of smell and hearing, and his awareness of nearby objects, that were usually so acute had grown dull, so that he felt as if he was blundering through a fog.
I’m never as clumsy as this, he thought crossly as he tripped over a branch.
“You’ll scare all the prey away if you go on like that,” Fish
Leap pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he added. “Do you want to go back to your den?”
“I’m fine,” Jaypaw repeated through gritted teeth. But Fish
Leap was right: Stumbling around like a blind badger would scare off all the prey. Jaypaw closed his eyes, and instantly felt more comfortable. His other senses grew sharp again, telling him which way to go. Scents and sounds swirled around him, calling up a far clearer picture of his surroundings than he could gain from his eyes.
“Jay’s Wing?” Dawn River sounded puzzled and concerned.
“Have you gone to sleep on your paws?”
Startled, Jaypaw veered away from the sound of her voice.
His eyes flicked open just in time to see the rough bark of a tree in front of his nose. There was no chance to stop before he crashed right into it.
“Wow!” Fish Leap exclaimed, his voice trembling with amusement. “You caught a tree!”
Jaypaw was relieved when Dawn River and Fish Leap set off alone, each of them sniffing for prey, and left him to recover. Grooming bits of bark out of his coat, he wondered what he was going to do. If he was a sharpclaw, these cats would expect him to know how to hunt. But back in his own
Clan, he had never been trained for that. He had never caught his own prey.
I’ll just have to try. How hard can it be?
He began prowling through the trees with his eyes closed so that he could pick out the scents more clearly, and soon detected a trace of mouse. Pausing to listen, he heard the scuffling of tiny paws, and leaped in the direction of the sound.
His paws thumped down on grass; there was no sign of his mouse.
“Bad luck!” Fish Leap meowed cheerfully behind him. Jaypaw opened his eyes and turned to see that the other cat was dragging a squirrel between his front paws. Dawn River stood behind him, a mouse clamped in her jaws.
“Haven’t you caught anything yet?” Fish Leap teased. “I thought sharpclaws were better than that.”
“I… er… I was looking for the horsetail that Running Horse mentioned,” Jaypaw mewed, improvising wildly. “He says it’s good for sore pads.”
Dawn River nodded. “It must be hard for you to hunt when your pads aren’t healed yet.”
“All the same, you’d better catch something,” Fish Leap told him. “Unless you want to go hungry.”
Jaypaw wasn’t surprised. He had already guessed that these cats had to hunt for themselves, even before they were sharpclaws; they didn’t have patrols, and he hadn’t seen any sign of a fresh-kill pile. “Should we catch something for the elders?” he suggested.
Fish Leap shrugged. “If we find something extra.”
Jaypaw felt a pang of homesickness for ThunderClan, where every cat was fed, even those who didn’t have the time or skill to hunt for themselves.
“I’m going to try down by the stream,” Dawn River declared.
“I could just eat a yummy vole.”
So could I, Jaypaw thought, watching the tortoiseshell she-cat out of sight, but I don’t think I’m going to get one. What am I going to eat if I can’t tell them that I don’t hunt?
“I’ll see you later,” Fish Leap meowed. “Good hunting!”
He bounded off in the direction of the ShadowClan border. No, Jaypaw reminded himself. Where the ShadowClan border will be.
Keeping his eyes open in an attempt to get used to seeing, he headed toward the stone hollow. Fear drew icy claws down his spine. What if the hollow isn’t there?
Before many heartbeats had passed, the harsh tang of a Thunderpath crept into Jaypaw’s nostrils. He paused, bewildered. There’s no Thunderpath across our territory!
He pressed himself closer to the ground, creeping forward and taking advantage of what little cover there was. Eventually he came out beside the Thunderpath, its hard black surface snaking through the trees. Pricking his ears, he listened for the sound of monsters, but nothing disturbed the gentle rustling of the breeze among the branches.
Glancing up and down, Jaypaw spotted the walls of a
Twoleg nest among the trees; more cautiously than ever he crept toward it, alert for the scent and sound of Twolegs or dogs. But everything was silent. The door of the nest was tight shut, and the shiny stuff in the windows was broken and scattered.
Jaypaw blinked in sudden understanding. This is the Twoleg nest where the sick cats are staying! There weren’t any holes in the walls, and the roof was still in one piece, but the size and shape were the same.
So the Thunderpath is the old Twoleg path. Jaypaw bounded back to it. He hadn’t recognized it with its black surface intact instead of broken up and covered with tiny creeping plants.
Now I know where I am!
He trotted along beside the Thunderpath, still wary of monsters, though none of the smelly, roaring creatures appeared. Just as he knew it would, it led him to the entrance to the hollow.
Jaypaw stopped and looked around. Walls of stone stretched up around him, low near the entrance and rising to a height of many fox-lengths opposite him. There was a trace of Twoleg scent, but it was faint and stale. His gaze traveled around the hollow as he tried to imagine where the dens would be. It was hard to picture them because there was no undergrowth yet, no brambles, bracken, or hazel to soften the harsh lines of the walls. Only a few stems of willowherb had pushed their way through the earth, their feathery tops stirred by the breeze.
Jaypaw thought he recognized the Highledge with the cave behind it where Firestar had his den, but there was no sign of the tumbled rocks that made a path up to it.
“Jay’s Wing!”
Jaypaw jumped, startled, and whirled around to see the white she-cat, Half Moon, staring at him with scared green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped. “The badgers will get you. Quick!”
She bounded away through the trees and up the side of the hollow, heading for the entrance to the underground tunnels.
Jaypaw followed her, closing his eyes so that he could match her speed. So this is where the badgers lived, he thought, noticing strong badger scent for the first time; his mind had been so distracted by the changes to the Twoleg path and the stone hollow that he had missed it on the way there. The hollow must be out-of-bounds to the cats because it belonged to their enemies—not rival cats, but badgers. Maybe these were the ancestors of the badgers that came back to the forest, moons and moons later, and attacked ThunderClan, killing Cinderpelt. Did those badgers know that this had been their home once?
Jaypaw was relieved when the badger scents faded and Half
Moon finally slowed and flopped down on the cool grass. He wondered how she knew that they were safe here, when there were no border markings to separate their territory from the badgers’.