Talon retorted.
Jaypaw bristled at the anger in his tone, especially as he knew it was justified. What had Lionpaw and Hollypaw been thinking of, going into the barn like that and risking everything?
“The apprentices will be fine,” Stormfur stated calmly.
“We can help them. What do you think, Brambleclaw?”
There was a pause before Brambleclaw replied. “Okay, let’s go.”
Jaypaw bounded beside his littermates as they crossed an open space. Gradually the ground began to slope upward; the grass beneath his paws grew thinner, and there were patches of loose soil mixed with grit that caught between his claws.
Soon the slope was so steep that his paws started to slip.
“Mouse dung!” he muttered, clawing for a grip.
“Here.” Squirrelflight’s scent wreathed around him and he felt her tail guiding him to one side. His paws met solid rock.
“There’s a path we can follow,” his mother mewed.
“There’s a drop on this side, so make sure your pelt keeps brushing the rock on the other.”
Jaypaw padded behind Tawnypelt with Squirrelflight just behind him. He could scent his littermates a short way ahead.
He began to feel more confident; this was a bit like climbing to the Highledge or making the journey to the Moonpool.
I can do those without any trouble. I’ll be fine here.
But as the path twisted higher into the mountains his confidence began to ebb. He kept picturing the long drop his mother had warned him about, and knew that a single misstep would send him plummeting into the depths. Cold wind buffeted him, threatening to carry him off his paws. The rock was hard, and he couldn’t see to avoid the sharp stones that cut his pads.
A harsh screech sounded from somewhere above. Startled, Jaypaw stumbled and only Squirrelflight’s shoulder, pushing up against his side, kept him on his paws.
“What was that?” he gasped.
“An eagle,” his mother replied. “They can be dangerous, but that one is far away. It won’t bother us.”
“I wish it would,” Stormfur called from behind. “We’d all have a good meal then.”
Squirrelflight gently nudged Jaypaw forward again, but before he’d gone more than a few paw steps, he heard Night’s voice from somewhere above his head. “Wait! Stop, all of you!”
Jaypaw halted, his nose bumping Tawnypelt’s tail. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“There’s a gap here,” Brambleclaw called, his voice echoing from the rocks. “We’ll have to jump.”
Jaypaw’s paws tingled with fear but he held his head high, refusing to show the Tribe cats he was scared. Squirrelflight pressed against his flank, and he was glad of her silent support.
“Come on, Lionpaw.” Brambleclaw’s voice came again, warm and encouraging. “You’ve leaped the stream on the WindClan border, and this is no farther.” There was a brief silence, then he meowed, “Well done! Breezepaw next.”
Jaypaw flexed his claws, scraping them on the hard stone of the path as he waited for his turn. He hated this place and couldn’t think why he had ever wanted to come. He had expected to discover the landscape of his dreams; instead, the wind wafted unfamiliar scents to him, and he had no sense of Rock’s presence or any warrior ancestors. His helplessness made him angry, too.
His fear mounted as he heard Tawnypelt encouraging Hollypaw to make the leap. “Don’t look down,” the ShadowClan she-cat meowed. “Keep your eyes on Brambleclaw.”
“I’ll be okay.” Hollypaw sounded tense.
A moment later Jaypaw heard a yowl of congratulations from Lionpaw and knew that his sister had made the leap safely. Tawnypelt’s scent suddenly faded, telling him that she too had jumped across the gap. Now there was no cat between him and the yawning abyss that he could imagine in front of his paws. The fur on his shoulders began to bristle.
“Now listen.” Squirrelflight was close beside him. “The gap is a couple of fox-lengths ahead and about three tail-lengths wide. You’ve jumped that far before. Take three paw steps for a run-up, then jump.”
“I’m right here, Jaypaw,” Brambleclaw called. “I’ll grab you as soon as you’re across.”
“Okay,” Jaypaw called back, proud that his voice didn’t shake. All his muscles tensed. “I’m coming now.”
Not giving himself a chance to hesitate, he launched himself forward, his paws skimming the rock before his hind legs thrust him into the air. His heart pounded in a moment’s wild panic; then his paws hit rock with a thud. He staggered and felt Lionpaw’s shoulder steadying him.
“Great leap!” his brother mewed. “Practice a bit more and you’ll be a flying cat.”
“No way,” Jaypaw muttered. He stood still, forcing his breathing to steady and his pelt to lie flat again.
By the time the rest of the cats had leaped across the gap, he was ready to go on, even beginning to feel pleased with himself. That would show the Tribe cats whether a blind apprentice could make the journey!
Now he sensed that their path led between towering walls of stone. The air around them was still, though he could hear wind whining among the rocks above. Their voices echoed and the rattle of loose stones dislodged by their paw steps sounded unnaturally loud.
“Best keep quiet,” Talon meowed. “We’re getting closer, and there might be intruders around.”
The path seemed to wind and curl back on itself. Once Jaypaw heard the gurgle of falling water and his paws splashed through a shallow stream. His belly rumbled as he picked up the scents of prey. They were faint and sparse, and he wondered why any cats would want to live in such an unfriendly place, much less fight over it.
He heard Breezepaw ask if they could stop and hunt, and Crowfeather snapped at him that there was no time. “You might want to spend the night out here, but I don’t!”
“There’ll be fresh-kill when we get to the cave,” Brook mewed.
Jaypaw wondered if she was right. Wasn’t part of the Tribe’s problem that the intruders were taking all their prey?
He tried to sense the passage of time. Was the sun going down, filling the cleft where they walked with shadows? Back in the forest, there was so much to tell him when sunset was approaching: changes in wind and scent, the fading of birdsong, the cool touch of grass blades as twilight covered them.
Here there was nothing to guide him.
The rocky path began to slope upward and the breeze picked up again, as if they were climbing out of the valley.
Suddenly Jaypaw heard a yowl from above his head.
“Lionpaw, come up here! I can see forever!” Hollypaw’s voice was full of excitement.
Night gave a furious hiss. Talon growled, “I said quiet.”
“Hollypaw, get down at once,” Squirrelflight ordered.
The cats halted. A couple of heartbeats later came the patter of paws and Hollypaw’s voice again. “Sorry, I forgot.” But Jaypaw didn’t think she was sorry; excitement was still rushing through her like a river in flood. “But it’s awesome. You can see the whole world!”
“If you’ve warned the intruders—” Talon began and broke off.
Jaypaw was aware of something approaching. There was no sound, only a disturbance in the air that told him of swift movement. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered.
“It’s them,” Talon mewed tersely.
“Then we’d better get out of here,” Brambleclaw began.
“Too late,” Night interrupted him. “Keep together. Put the apprentices in the center.”
Jaypaw was almost jostled off his paws as Crowfeather shoved him against the others.
“We can fight!” Lionpaw insisted.
“Yes, you don’t have to protect us,” Hollypaw added.
Breezepaw said nothing, only let out a defiant snarl.
None of the older cats paid them any attention. Jaypaw found himself crushed against Hollypaw on one side and Breezepaw on the other, with the experienced fighters in a circle around them. Hollypaw was muttering curses under her breath.