Chapter Six

THE ENDLESS MAW.

Ghost trod the snow at his paws into a packed shelf as he looked down into the yawning depths of the crevasse. He had no words for how big it was—he could guess that twenty leopards standing nose to tail would barely stretch across the top, but when it came to the fall . . . he couldn’t even guess. The crack in the mountain was so deep that even the snow couldn’t seem to reach the bottom. Great sheets of it blew in and piled up in drifts against the jagged walls, but in the depths all Ghost could see was blackness.

“Woooooow,” breathed Shiver, and stepped closer to Ghost. “We . . . we really have to jump that?”

“When we’re ready,” said Frost faintly.

“Look,” said Snowstorm, her voice a little quivery. “There’s the column.”

Ghost didn’t see it at first. All he could see was the deep, deep drop below him. But then his swimming vision finally focused on a wide column of rock that stood up in the middle of the crevasse.

“So it’s only half as far as it looks, really,” Snowstorm went on, drawing herself up tall and stiffening her tail.

Frost shook himself, and Ghost startled and dug his claws into the snow. He felt as if the sudden movement could make him slip and fall into the blackness, even though he was a leopard-length away from the edge.

“It’s too far.” Shiver shook her head. “I’ll never make it.”

“None of us are old enough yet,” Frost said, giving her a reassuring lick on the side of her face. “You’ll be ready one day.”

Ghost felt the fur on his back prickle and a warm flush of embarrassment run down his spine, despite the frozen winds. The air felt heavy with the words none of his siblings were saying.

Shiver probably would be ready one day. But Ghost . . .

“Come on, let’s practice!” Snowstorm said, and Ghost’s heart sank even further as she turned and trotted toward the maze of rocks that stuck up from the snowdrifts a little way away. They were a variety of heights and distances apart—perfect for cubs to practice their leaping, knowing there was soft snow waiting to catch them when they fell. Winter said that as long as there had been leopards on the White Spine, which was always, they had jumped the Endless Maw to prove themselves, and had practiced on the Training Rocks.

Don’t talk yourself down, he told himself, trying to hear his mother’s voice in his head. You can get better. That’s what practicing is for.

Shiver climbed up onto one of the lower rocks and wiggled her tail as she crouched, assessing the distance to the next one.

“You can do it!” Frost called out encouragingly. Shiver took a deep breath and leaped, soared through the air, and landed steadily on the rock about a leopard-length away.

“Yeah!” said Snowstorm. “There you go! Now try to get to the next one. Don’t forget to use your tail for balance.”

Frost peeled away and headed for one of the other rocks, while Snowstorm stayed to cheer Shiver on a little more. Ghost watched as Frost focused on a rock almost as far from him as the column in the middle of the Maw was from the edge. He held his breath as his brother tensed and sprang. Could he really do it? Was Frost ready?

For a moment he thought he would make it, but Frost fell short and landed face-first in the snow, sending a big white cloud puffing out all around him. Ghost suppressed the urge to laugh as Frost scrambled out of the bank, shook himself, and then sat down and licked his paws as if he’d meant to do that all along.

“Come on, Ghost!” Shiver called. She was sitting proudly on the next rock along, trembling as she caught her breath, but her eyes bright at having made it across the small jumps. Snowstorm had moved away to practice on some of the higher rocks—she chose one with a difficult jump, but nowhere near as far as Frost’s, and Ghost saw her soar across the gap. She landed awkwardly but stuck out her tail and steadied herself.

Ghost glanced back at his own tail, or tried to. His littermates all had long, wide, fluffy tails that were perfect for helping with balance—Shiver’s was as long as her whole body. But his tail was still so short and stumpy he couldn’t even see it properly unless he lay on his side and twisted himself into a circle.

He climbed up onto a rock and eyed the distance between it and the next. It wasn’t very far. He was much bigger than Shiver. He had longer legs, and he was stronger. There was no reason he couldn’t do this.

He fixed his gaze on the rock ahead of him, crouched back, tensed his muscles, and leaped with all his might.

For a moment, he felt like he was flying.

Then he crashed into the snow, his front claws catching painfully on the very edge of the rock, but the rest of him falling a long way short.

The sound of two cackling voices made him wince. He rolled over and sat up, blowing the snow from his muzzle and keeping his eyes closed. Of course those two were here to see that. Perhaps if he kept his eyes shut and didn’t move, the snow would eventually cover him and he would never have to face the cubs Born of Icebound, or jump the Endless Maw.

“Shut up!” he heard Snowstorm snap. He opened one eye and saw her jumping down from a rock.

“Did you see that?” Brisk purred. “Did you see that freak’s excuse for a jump?”

Sleet flopped down and rolled over in the snow, still laughing. “I can’t believe that thing thinks he belongs here!”

“He does belong,” Frost snarled, leaping down to join Snowstorm as Ghost came forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his littermates.

“Oooh, I’m scared,” sneered Sleet. “The freak can’t jump, can’t hunt. I bet he can’t even run.” He got to his paws and squared off with Ghost. “Can you run, freak?”

“Just ignore him,” Frost muttered.

But Ghost was tired of being silent.

“I can,” he said.

“You want to prove it?” Sleet’s tail twitched with amusement. “How about a race?”

“Ghost . . . ,” Snowstorm warned, but Ghost cut in before she could finish warning him not to take the bait.

“Fine by me.”

“Ooooh,” Brisk cooed. “How about from that rock to that pine tree?”

Ghost didn’t reply. He just walked calmly over to the rock and sat down, waiting for Sleet.

“You can do it, Ghost,” Shiver said, as Sleet strutted through the snow and sat beside him.

Maybe I can, Ghost thought. The tree wasn’t so far away, and he could be fast, when he put his mind to it.

“Ready . . . go!” yelled Brisk.

Ghost sprang forward. His paws thumped down on the packed snow in a thundering rhythm, his strong legs carrying him faster and faster. He dared to split his attention for a second and saw that Sleet was behind him, paws scrabbling. Ghost’s heart soared and he put on another burst of speed.

But they were barely halfway to the tree when Ghost began to slow. No matter how hard he pushed, his lungs were starting to burn and his legs just wouldn’t keep up the pace. Sleet drew level and then overtook, kicking a shower of snow into Ghost’s face as he sprinted past.

“What’s the matter?” the cub called back. Ghost tried to ignore him and kept on running, though now every step felt as if the snow were sticking him to the ground. Sleet laughed again—how did he have the breath left to laugh?—and swerved from the course, running in a circle around Ghost, once, twice, three times before heading at the tree at a casual trot. Ghost put his head down. He might have lost, but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t let them see how tired he was. He wouldn’t . . .

Something sharp struck his paw, and he tripped. The world lurched around him, as if it had risen up to throw him onto his face. He collapsed and rolled to a stop against a snowdrift, which crumbled and cascaded down to cover him from ears to tail.

“Ghost!”

Before he could stand up by himself, there was a swift scampering of paws on snow and his littermates were with him, Frost digging him out from the drift and Snowstorm sniffing anxiously at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” Ghost rasped, still so out of breath that sparkling lights flashed in front of his eyes for a moment as he stood up and shook off the wet snow. “I’m fine.”

“Can’t jump, can’t run, can’t even stand on his own paws!” Brisk yowled in a singsong voice, pouncing near Ghost and then leaping away again.

“What a freak! Can’t run, can’t jump!” Sleet sat just out of reach, washing his face with one paw.

Ghost’s front left paw still ached where he’d hit it on the hidden rock, but he didn’t let it show as he walked up to Sleet and bared his teeth.

“Want me to show you what I can do?” he roared.

Brisk stopped hopping back and forth and came to Sleet’s side. He still spoke with a sneer, but Ghost could tell that he was worried. “We’re not on your territory now. The Maw is for all leopards. We have every right to be here.”

“And we have every right to wipe that smug look off your whiskers,” growled Snowstorm.

“I bet he’d like that,” said Brisk. “His littermates leaping to his defense yet again.”

“Or we could let Ghost break you in half with one bite,” said Shiver. “He could do that, you know. Ghost’s got a bite that can break rocks.”

Before Brisk or Sleet could reply, there was a roar as loud as a rumble of thunder. All six leopard cubs jumped at the sound and cringed back as, pounding over the snowfield, came a fully grown adult leopard, her teeth bared and her tail lashing angrily behind her.

“Mother!” Sleet yelped, running to the leopard and putting her between him and the cubs Born of Winter.

“They were going to let the white freak eat us!” Brisk yowled.

“Get away from my cubs!” Icebound snarled, pacing back and forth, her pale eyes fixed on Ghost. Ghost was already almost as big as her, but she was still an imposing figure, her teeth sharp, her shoulders tensed to spring, and her huge white paws digging deep grooves in the snow as she padded back and forth.

Snowstorm and Frost backed off, and Frost nudged Ghost and Shiver to do the same. Icebound watched them like they were prey, advancing even as they retreated.

“Maybe I should send you back to your softhearted mother with a scar or two,” she growled, cocking her head at Ghost. “Maybe then she’d realize that you don’t belong here. Keeping the runt is bad enough, but the white freak . . . I told her you’d be nothing but trouble. She should have eaten you when she had the chance. Now someone needs to drive you away from the White Spine, for good—”

“Ghost isn’t going anywhere!” The defiant snarl came from behind Ghost’s shoulder.

He spun around, kicking up snow, and saw Winter. She was standing on a tall snowbank, her teeth bared at Icebound, her tail vibrating with anger. She crouched and leaped, right over the heads of her cubs, and landed in the snow in front of Icebound, kicking up a flurry that flew right into the other leopard’s face. Icebound roared and shook her head to clear the snow from her eyes as Winter stalked closer.

“He’s my cub, and this is his home,” she snarled. “They’re all my cubs, and they’re worth ten of your little bullies.”

“Come here and say that!” Icebound spat, still swiping at her whiskers.

“Gladly!” Winter said, and pounced. Icebound was ready for her, but only just. They locked into a grapple, Winter’s huge paws slamming into the side of Icebound’s head and flank, rolling her over in the snow.

“Get her, Mother!” Sleet yowled, though he and Brisk had both scampered back to a safe distance.

Ghost couldn’t bring himself to speak, but he watched in intense silence as Winter and Icebound twisted, broke away from each other, circled, and sprang again. Icebound got a hard smack in on the side of Winter’s face, but then Winter threw her head back, roared, and sank her fangs into Icebound’s shoulder.

Ghost’s breath caught. He had seen his mother hunt, of course, but he’d never seen her fight another leopard before.

Icebound pushed her away and they sprang apart. Winter crouched, ready to pounce, but held back, waiting to see what the wounded leopard would do. Icebound licked at the wound and then spat red into the snow at her feet.

“You could kill me,” she said. “My cubs would survive without my help.” Ghost glanced behind her and saw Brisk and Sleet draw closer together and look at each other in dismay.

They don’t look like they think so, Ghost thought.

“But . . . yours need your protection, that much is clear,” Icebound went on, and stepped back, her posture relaxing.

Winter remained tense for a little longer, waiting for Icebound to retreat even farther. Then she nodded once and pulled herself up straight. She didn’t say anything more as Icebound turned her back and walked away, sweeping Brisk and Sleet along in her wake. Winter stayed perfectly still until they had vanished over a snowdrift.

A high-pitched rumble from just behind Ghost’s shoulder made him look around. It was Shiver, growling.

“What a coward! She made it sound like she chose to let you win.” She padded up to their mother and looked up at her, a questioning frown on her face. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Winter turned to look at her, and the stern expression melted into a fond smile. She licked Shiver hard between the eyes.

“Because we’re better than them,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Ghost’s paw didn’t hurt too much while they were still walking through deep snow, but as they descended the mountain toward Winter’s cave, it began to sting more and more. The cave was tucked in a shady, sheltered valley, where the snow hadn’t fallen this season, and the ground was made up of layered rocks that overlapped each other with thin, pale grass growing in little clumps between them. Ghost usually found the rocks easier to walk on than snow, but right now each step on the hard ground felt like a jab against his pads, and by the time they got back to the cave, he was limping badly.

“Let’s get you inside,” Winter said gently. “And I’ll have a look at that for you.”

The inside of the cave was warm and soft, padded with many seasons of Winter’s shed fur. The four cubs all flopped down in the comfortable nest, Snowstorm and Frost curling around Shiver, grooming each other to clear the last of the snow from their fur.

Ghost sat down and raised his front paw, and Winter began to gently lick at the cut on his pad.

“Me next,” said Frost, purring.

“You’ll each get a turn,” Winter promised, blinking happily.

The cubs could all groom themselves, but it was so nice when their mother washed them. Ghost sighed happily, even though his pad still stung and one of his claws felt wobbly and sore. Part of him never wanted to leave the cave. He wanted to be a good leopard and hunt for himself, but in that moment, even if he could make the leap over the Maw, he thought it would be just as good to stay with Winter.

“Be careful of your pad for a few days,” Winter said. “You’ve cracked a claw. And you must take no notice of Icebound,” she added softly. “She’s jealous of our territory, and the fact that there are four of you to carry my name into the world and she only has two cubs. She’s made them into bullies because she’s afraid of losing her territory once they leave her.”

Ghost curled up, resting his chin against Winter’s flank.

“I know,” he said. “I just wish they’d leave me alone. I know I’m a freak,” he went on, in a very small voice. “They don’t need to keep reminding me.”

“You’re special,” Winter said firmly. “You and Shiver are both very special. The Snow Cat brought you to me. It was a clear night. . . .”

She curled her tail around him and licked his ears. Ghost closed his eyes. He liked to listen to this story with them shut, so he could imagine it more clearly.

“The stars were bright, and the moon was a perfect circle. It lit up the White Spine Mountains, so strong that it was like daylight. You could look down over the cliff and see the trees in the forest waving in the breeze. I could hear birds singing, thinking it was the morning. Everything was very still. It was a perfect night for the Snow Cat to bring me my perfect cubs. And when you were born, a beam of moonlight shone down and turned your fur pure white. It made you glow, as if your light were coming from within. I knew right then that you were going to be special.”

Shiver got up from her position between her siblings and walked outside the cave. Ghost’s heart felt tight for a moment. Was she upset that Winter was telling this story? After all, she had been born different too.

But then she came back inside and padded up to Ghost. She licked him on his nose, and then reared up and patted his fur with her paws, leaving spots of mud, just like the spots on her own back.

“You’re special,” she said. “But you’re still my brother. We know you’re one of us, even if the idiots born of Icebound don’t.”

Ghost smiled and blew a huff of air in Shiver’s face, and she giggled, like she always did.

But as he settled back against Winter’s flank, he couldn’t help wishing that his new spots weren’t just pretend.

They won’t help me run or jump or hunt like a normal leopard, he thought. And Brisk and Sleet won’t be fooled.

They’ll always see me as a freak.

I am a freak.