Chapter 6: Descent, part 2

Jaggedshadow's ears pricked up at the sound of flowing water. Perhaps he would have more skill at catching fish. He turned a corner. A stream flowed across a sunlit cave. Jaggedshadow leaped across the stream. He landed on a sandy bank and turned around, stepping back so that his shadow darkened the sand beside him and not the stream. Jaggedshadow's mother, Shadefern, and her sister Ravenheart, had both taught him how to catch fish. However, Jaggedshadow hadn't practiced it in moons. Nonetheless, he was going to at least try.

Jaggedshadow stood as still as he could, remembering Shadefern's teachings. He could almost feel her tail brushing along his back, gently reminding him to keep still. He kept his gaze focused on the bottom of the stream. A streamlined silver shape drifted smoothly by. Jaggedshadow scooped his paw into the water. His paw hit stone; he had misjudged his strike placement. Specifically, he had undershot. Jaggedshadow sat down. It would be some time before fish would swim undisturbed in the stream. He looked into the water, planning his next strike.

Jaggedshadow watched a small fish swim by. He struck at it with an upward–arcing strike, remembering to aim low. He overshot, only sending sand and water flying. The fish seemed to remain undisturbed. Jaggedshadow followed it downstream and struck, startling the fish away.

He hissed and raked the sand with his claws. Jaggedshadow glared into the stream. He dropped onto his side and lay there. Although furious at his own incompetence, he was also exhausted and hungry, so he decided to sleep instead of brooding.

Jaggedshadow awoke, shivering, to the sound of rushing water. His fur was soaked. He stood up and stretched. His side was bruised. Jaggedshadow looked around; the sand that he had slept on was wet. He stood next to a cave wall that stood several fox-lengths away from the place where he fell asleep. The stream had been widened significantly. Jaggedshadow walked across the stream. The cave must have flooded while he was asleep. Jaggedshadow left the cave. He shook the water out of his fur. Still dripping wet, he sauntered down the tunnel. He and his fluffed fur approached a light source. Shadows dappled the sunlit tunnel. Jaggedshadow looked around. There were three paths ahead of him. The first path led out of the tunnel. The second path smelled cold and musty and the third had no discernable scent.

Jaggedshadow felt that his journey was far from over, so the path that led above the ground was no longer an option. The two remaining paths were equal in validity. Jaggedshadow stood at the place where the tunnel parted into three, weighing the pros and cons of each path. From the scent—Jaggedshadow had become good at locating things by scent alone—the left hand path seemed to lead farther into the ground. The right hand tunnel had a clearer scent and sloped downward and branched out to the left. Jaggedshadow took a step toward the left-hand tunnel and paused. Every decision that he made during his journey would affect the time that he was away from Nightclan. He began to walk down the right hand tunnel. True to his senses, the path sloped under his feet.

Jaggedshadow looked around, sniffing for the tunnel branch. He reached the branch, and found the opening too narrow for him to fit through. He turned away and continued walking the path. A feather tickled Jaggedshadow's nose and he sneezed. He looked down. It was a pheasant's tail feather. He sniffed it. The pheasant had been caught recently and something about the scent was vaguely familiar. Jaggedshadow looked up and walked cautiously forward, looking for other signs of life. The scent that he had smelled on the feather was that of a tomcat, not young, and definitely not in a great mood. The air prickled with anger and fear-scents. Jaggedshadow unsheathed his claws and flattened his ears against his head in preparation for a fight.

He followed the scent trail, preparing to strike. Fear-scent, not anger, wafted through the cold air. A gray tom cowered in front of a rough nest. His fur was puffed up and he was crouched low, legs tensed to flee. Jaggedshadow approached the tom and sheathed his claws. The tom backed away, casting nervous glances around himself. Jaggedshadow stepped forward. The tom's green eyes widened and he spun around, fleeing the tunnel.

Jaggedshadow sat down and shook his head. The old gray tom had clearly lived in that section of tunnel for a long time. Feathers, bones, and scraps of fur lay scattered around the tunnel floor. The nest -if it could be called a nest -was a pile of twigs, moss and feathers.

Jaggedshadow looked was no chance that he would find prey in that section of tunnel. It reeked too much of cat-sent. Jaggedshadow had two options at that point: continue walking down the path and hope to stumble across prey, or backtrack and hunt in an unfamiliar place. Jaggedshadow turned around and retraced his steps to the parting place. He longed for the sun's warmth on his pelt.

The light blinded Jaggedshadow, and because he had become accustomed to the cold of the tunnels, it warmed his pelt uncomfortably. Jaggedshadow walked toward an oak and an acorn hit his head. Jaggedshadow looked up. A squirrel sat atop a branch. Jaggedshadow leaped gracefully onto a lower branch. He studied the squirrel carefully, sittinging still so that he didn't startle it.

Jaggedshadow leaped higher and the squirrel darted higher up the tree. Jaggedshadow gave chase, jumping between branches. The squirrel jumped onto the end of a thinner tree branch and sprang deftly into a pine tree. Jaggedshadow followed, leaping onto the thinner branch. He stepped foolishly toward the end of the branch. The branch snapped and Jaggedshadow fell.

Jaggedshadow thrashed as he fell, hoping to stop himself from hitting the ground. His claws snagged a lower branch. Jaggedshadow swung, thrashing his tail and pawing at the branch to regain a hold. He hooked the branch with his hind legs and pulled himself up. Jaggedshadow dived onto a lower, sturdy branch. He ran down the tree trunk. On stable ground once again, he panted furiously.

Jaggedshadow walked toward a pine tree. A bird rustled dead leaves. Jaggedshadow dropped into a hunting crouch. He stalked toward his mark, keeping his tail low and unmoving. The bird didn't seem to notice Jaggedshadow and continued nibbling at pine nuts. Jaggedshadow stepped forward and froze as the bird glanced wearily around, distracted by russiling pine needles. The bird resumed eating. It was a plump bird, just what he needed . Jaggedshadow prowled toward the bird, thankful that the pine needles didn't crunch underfoot. He prowled forward, his head low.

Jaggedshadow stepped toward the bird, preparing to pounce. A sound rang through the air from beneath Jaggedshadow's paws. The bird flew into the air, screeching an alarm. Jaggedshadow threw himself into the air after the bird.

Jaggedshadow landed on the bird's back, bringing them both down with his weight. The bird thrashed its wings. Jaggedshadow closed his jaws around the bird's neck and twisted his head, snapping the bird's neck. He sunk his teeth into the bird's flesh and tore a chunk out. He chewed it a bit. Jaggedshadow swallowed too quickly and he choked on his prey. He spat it onto a rock. Gasping, Jaggedshadow sat up. He couldn't let prey—much less prey that he caught—go to waste, so he devoured the pile of partially chewed meat, remembering to eat more carefully.

Jaggedshadow finished his meal, casting the bird's feathers aside. He leaped through the tunnel entrance and landed on his hind paws, rolling forward to absorb the impact. Having eaten for the first time in two days, Jaggedshadow marched down the tunnel with new-found purpose in his strides. He re-entered the bent tunnel and walked past the old tom's nest. Jaggedshadow walked farther down the tunnel, humming to himself.

Intense sunlight pierced the foliage that shaded parts of the camp. The high stone stood tall and defiant against the blazing sunlight, casting a cool shadow on the camp floor below. Three structures of mud-plastered sticks casted shadows of their own. Against the rearmost wall of the camp stood the largest den, which sheltered the nursing queens and their kits. The smallest den was the prey den; it stored Nightclan's fresh-kill. Twelve tail-lengths to the right of the nursery, the warriors den stood, casting a large shadow which cooled a younger Jaggedshadow.

Cedartail's den stood across from the high stone, towering above the camp. A fallen tree bridged the gap between the two. The elders' den was a large cave in the camp wall. The prey den had been built next to the elders den so that the elders didn't need to cross the camp to get food.

Jaggedshadow felt a tail rest on his back. He stood and turned around. Stoneclaw stood in front of him.

"Jaggedshadow, go back into the nursery," Stoneclaw meowed.

"I want to explore outside camp," Jaggedshadow meowed, staring pleadingly at Stoneclaw's face.

"You can do that when you are older," Stoneclaw meowed. Jaggedshadow's stare hadn't worked.

"Okay then," Jaggedshadow conceded.

Jaggedshadow settled into the nest beside Shadefern. "Where is Icefang?"

"He's on a hunting patrol," Stoneclaw meowed, shifting his stance.

"Okay then," Jaggedshadow meowed. "Stoneclaw, I have something I've been meaning to tell you."

"Oh?" Stoneclaw sat down.

"There's a spirit who keeps talking to me." Jaggedshadow admitted.

"What does it tell you? Stoneclaw asked.

"His name is Plague," Jaggedshadow meowed, "he gives me advice."

"You have a guide." Stoneclaw meowed, "why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

Jaggedshadow began to clean his shoulder. "I thought you would have noticed. And what's a guide, anyway?"

"A guide," Stoneclaw began, "is a Nightclan ancestor who resides within a willing cat's body. The spirit chooses a guardian to shield themself from being lost to time. In return, a guide gives their guardian wisdom, training, and in some cases, heals blindness or deafness."

"Can a guide heal all of a guardian's impairments?"

"No. A guide can heal blindness, deafness, and also lameness, although it is rather rare," Stoneclaw meowed, pausing to clear his throat, "did you know that I was born blind?"

"Really?"

"Yes. Thanks to Frost, I can see. He did choose me somewhat later than usual though."

"Huh?"

"A guardian is usually chosen by a guide shortly after said guardian becomes a warrior. I, however, was already an experienced warrior when Frost chose me."

"Does this mean-"

"You are the youngest guardian I know of, younger even then Blackfoot." Stoneclaw meowed.

"Are there any other limits that I should know about?"

"Frost tells me that there can be a maximum of seven guardians at a time, and that a guardian can have a maximum of four guides. And if Plague dies, your mind will be wrended."

"How many guardians are there right now?"

"Four including you and I. Shadefern's sister, Ravenheart, and Leafwhisker's eldest son, Rain, are the other guardians."

"Is that why I haven't seen any of you three leave the warriors den?"

"Yes, it is." Stoneclaw meowed, "the guardians cave is beside the entrance tunnel. The entrance to the guardians cave is a gap in the camp wall. When you become an apprentice, you'll sleep in the guardians cave."

"What if I'm apprenticed to a warrior who isn't a guardian?"

"Then Ravenheart or I will have to figure something out with them." Stoneclaw meowed, "although I doubt Cedartail would do something so stupid as assigning a guardian apprentice to a normal warrior."

"Has it happened before?"

"Yes it has. One of the Nightclan's worst leaders was a guardian who was trained as a normal warrior," Stoneclaw meowed to Jaggedshadow.

"Blackfoot?"

"Yes. In terms of cruelty and disloyalty, Blackfoot was second only to Jay's Song. In terms of poor leadership, he was second only to Whitepine."

"Jay's Song?" Jaggedshadow asked.

"Jay's Song was a cruel tyrant who wouldn't hesitate to turn on a clanmate if he saw them as a threat. Especially if they dared challenge his authority."

"What happened to him, and why haven't I heard of him before?"

"A bout of blackcough killed him," Stoneclaw meowed, "He was one of nightclan's earliest leaders, so I don't doubt that he has faded away."

Jaggedshadow began to scratch behind an ear. "Doesn't thinking about a spirit contribute to their memory?"

"Yes, but I'm certain that our ancestors have him under control. Besides, not many know about Jay's Song."

Jaggedshadow's stomach turned into a cold pit. Others had told him that his father would return, but his feelings told him otherwise. "Where's Icefang?"

"He should be back by moonhigh," Stoneclaw meowed, casting a glance at Nightsong's sleeping figure.

"What if Icefang doesn't come back?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Stoneclaw meowed, standing and stepping back, "he will return."

Back in the present, Jaggedshadow reflected on the vision. He had been wrong that day. Icefang had returned to Nightclan. Unfortunately, he hadn't returned until three days before Jaggedshadow's warrior ceremony. Jaggedshadow wished that Icefang could have lived to see it, but at the same time, he knew that Cedartail would have found another opportunity to kill Icefang