Warriors: Power of Three 01 - The Sight Read Free

bitter stench of mouse bile that came from the elders’ den. Leafpool must be removing a tick from Longtail or Mousefur. A much nicer odor heralded the return of two of Daisy’s kits—Mousepaw and Hazelpaw were bringing fresh-kill back from a hunting expedition. They hurried excitedly into the camp, Mousepaw carrying two mice and Hazelpaw with a large thrush in her jaws. They dropped them at the fresh-kill pile.
    Dustpelt padded over to greet them. “Looks like you did well, Hazelpaw!” he praised his apprentice. “You both did.” The apprentices purred, and Jaykit noticed how much they sounded like their mother, as though their purrs were muffled by their thick, soft pelts.
    A sudden rush of wind and fur knocked Jaykit off his paws.
    â€œAre you playing with us or not?” Hollykit demanded.
    Jaykit leaped up, shaking himself. “Of course I am!”
    â€œWell, Lionkit’s got the mouse, and he won’t let me have it!” Hollykit complained.
    â€œLet’s get him then!” Jaykit hared across the clearingtoward his brother. He bundled into Lionkit and pressed him to the frosty earth while Hollykit dragged the mouse from Lionkit’s claws.
    â€œUnfair!” Lionkit protested.
    â€œWe don’t have to be fair,” Hollykit squeaked triumphantly. “We’re not in StarClan yet!”
    â€œAnd you never will be if you keep playing with food that way!” Stormfur had paused beside them on his way to the warriors’ den. His words were stern, though his voice was warm. “It’s leaf-bare. We should thank StarClan for every morsel.”
    Lionkit wriggled out from underneath Jaykit. “We’re just practicing our hunting skills!”
    â€œWe have to practice,” Jaykit added, sitting up. “We’ll be apprentices soon.”
    Stormfur was silent for a moment; then he stretched forward and gave Jaykit a quick lick between the ears. “Of course,” he murmured. “I was forgetting.”
    Frustration flared in Jaykit’s belly. Why did the whole Clan treat him like a newborn kit when he was nearly six moons old? He shook his head crossly. Stormfur wasn’t even a proper ThunderClan cat! His father, Graystripe, had once been ThunderClan’s deputy, but Stormfur had grown up with his mother’s Clanmates in RiverClan, and his mate, Brook, had come from far away in the mountains. What right did he have to act superior?
    Hollykit’s belly rumbled. “How about we eat this mouse instead of playing with it?”
    â€œYou two share it,” Lionkit offered. “I’ll get something from the fresh-kill pile.”
    Jaykit turned toward the heap of prey caught by the warriors that morning. A faint odor disturbed him. He took in a deeper breath, opening his jaws to draw the scents into his mouth: he could smell Hazelpaw’s freshly killed thrush and Mousepaw’s mice, their blood still warm. But below there was a sour smell that made his tongue curl. He padded past his brother, his tail held stiffly behind him.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Lionkit asked.
    Jaykit didn’t answer. He nosed his way in among the small dead bodies, caught hold of a wren, and pulled it free. “Look!” he mewed, rolling the bird over with his paw. The creature’s belly was alive with maggots.
    â€œUgh!” Hollykit squealed.
    Leafpool emerged from the elders’ den, a wad of moss in her jaws. Jaykit could smell the mouse bile on it even over the stench of the rotten wren. She paused by the three kits. “Well spotted,” she praised them, dropping the bile-soaked moss at her paws. “I know prey is scarce at the moment, but better to eat nothing than to eat something that will hurt your belly.”
    â€œJaykit found it,” Hollykit told her.
    â€œWell, he’s saved me a patient,” Leafpool meowed. “I’m busy enough as it is. Brackenfur and Birchfall have