Chapter Nine

GHOST WATCHED THE MOUNTAIN goats grazing on the bushes, seemingly unbothered by the steepness of the crag where they had found the greenery growing up through a thin dusting of snow. Their big curly horns bobbed as they nibbled.

They were much, much bigger than the hare that Frost and Snowstorm had caught before. If they could bring one down, it would feed the whole family for days and days.

Ghost felt strangely positive about the idea of catching one of the goats. The hare was fast and could vanish into the snow before Ghost could get close, but it would take strength as well as speed to hunt one of these woolly creatures. And his littermates might be able to avoid being struck by the horns, but he was the one who could wrestle it to the ground.

All four cubs Born of Winter were huddled behind a sticking-out rock, carefully staying downwind of the herd, watching the goats with hungry eyes.

And what better way to show Icebound and her stupid cubs that I do belong here? he thought. He knew he ought to just ignore them, but part of him wanted to bring the biggest, grumpiest-looking goat in the herd back to Winter’s cave. That would show them all that he was as good a leopard as any other.

But it wasn’t the smart thing to do.

“That one,” he whispered to the other cubs. “The lowest down the slope, trying to eat the leaves off that spiky bush.”

It was thin, compared to the others, but it would still make a good meal for a leopard family. It looked elderly: the sparse and straggly hair on its back had leaves and twigs caught in it. Its legs even wobbled a little as it shifted around on the steep rocks to try to get a better angle on the bush’s leaves. Now it was facing away from the cubs.

Ghost heard Winter’s voice in his head.

When the chance comes to pounce, don’t wait.

He had to go. Now.

He exploded from behind the rock, kicking back a shower of pebbles.

“What in the Snow Cat’s—Ghost, wait!” he heard Snowstorm hiss behind him, but it was too late now. He was charging across the cliff, eyes locked on the goat’s flank. He had to make it, before . . .

But it was too far, and the scattering pebbles had been too loud. The goat turned, saw him coming, and yelled a warning to the others.

“Snow Cat’s teeth,” Ghost heard Frost snap, and then the other three cubs bounded out from their hiding place after him.

Ghost tried to focus on the elderly goat. He could still make it. . . .

The goat reared up and turned on its back legs, and in that moment Ghost realized he had misjudged the creature. It might be elderly, but it wasn’t as infirm as it looked. It kicked off and bounded away across the slope in great, steady leaps, while Ghost had to slow to pick his way across the treacherous rocks. The others raced past him, but the whole herd was scattering, bleating their fright to the sky, and to any other prey that might be close by too. A whole flock of sparrows took flight from one of the trees and circled overhead, cheeping madly.

Snowstorm came closest to catching one of the goats, rocketing across the uneven ground, her teeth snapping audibly just shy of one of their legs. But then they were gone, and even the normal cubs couldn’t keep their footing well enough to follow them along the crag.

“Ghost!” Frost stumbled to a halt and yowled. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought I could get it,” Ghost muttered. “Mother said not to miss a chance to pounce. I thought I could make it.”

Frost rolled his eyes. “Yes, but she meant—”

He broke off and gave a hard sigh, treading the rocks with his paws.

Ghost felt cold. He knew exactly what his brother had been about to say.

She meant us, not you. That advice is for normal cubs. You were always going to mess this up.

He didn’t bother to challenge Frost. Both of them knew what he meant. He just turned and walked up the slope, hoping against hope that there might be more prey elsewhere that hadn’t been spooked away by the goats’ panic.

“Ghost,” Snowstorm called after him. “It’s no good. Let’s go home. They won’t graze here again for a long time. It’s all right,” she added. Ghost screwed up his face and dug his claws into the cracks between the rocks.

It wasn’t all right. He would never learn to hunt. Either he would stay with Winter for the rest of his life, being fed like a cub from the prey she caught, or he would starve.

But Snowstorm was trying to be kind. He turned back and headed for home without another word.

“Ghost, come inside,” Shiver meowed. Ghost turned and saw her faint shape standing at the mouth of the cave. The other three cubs had been snoozing in the den with Winter, but Ghost had told them he needed air, and had gone to sit outside by himself. Now it was snowing heavily, even on the sheltered slope by the cave, and the sun was setting somewhere far away behind the thick banks of cloud. Drifts were piling up against the rocks and a thin, perfect blanket of white covered the ground and the trees.

“It’s not as warm inside without you,” Shiver complained. Ghost knew that wasn’t true; she wanted him to come back inside because she could tell he was upset. But he couldn’t.

“Just a bit longer,” he said. “I’ll come in soon.”

Shiver gave a worried half growl. “Please do. It’s cold out here.”

“I’m not cold. Go back to sleep,” Ghost replied, trying to sound reassuring.

Shiver hesitated, then turned and padded back inside the cave.

Ghost felt relieved when she wasn’t watching him anymore, but the relief soon faded and the anxiety rose again like a flood, until it threatened to drown him.

What am I going to do? What can I do to get better?

He was so afraid that the answer was nothing—you can only make things worse. He didn’t want to ever move from this spot again, because at least if he sat here, perfectly still, he couldn’t ruin anything else for his littermates.

The wind died suddenly, and the snow slowed and then stopped altogether. The light that had been gray and feeble was almost gone now. Ghost gazed up at the sky, where the clouds still swirled, dark gray and overpowering. Every so often they would part to reveal dark sky behind, and Ghost would glimpse a few glimmering stars before the clouds closed over them again.

Ghost waited until he could fix his gaze on a single bright star, like the gleam in a giant eye, and then he spoke quietly.

“Snow Cat, please,” he said. “I just want to be a good leopard. Please, help me.”

He suddenly felt a warm gust of air pass over the back of his neck, as if a huge creature had breathed gently on his fur. He spun around, but there was nothing there. But the warm air kept flowing past him, almost seeming to wrap around him, like Winter used to wrap her tail right around him when he was just a tiny cub. Then the snow began to glow, faintly and then brighter and brighter. Ghost blinked, not sure what he was seeing. Was he going crazy? Then he looked up. The clouds were parting slowly, revealing a sky scattered with shimmering stars. Their light made the snow on the ground glitter and shine. It was so beautiful that Ghost didn’t immediately notice the shapes in the snow. They led from the rock he was sitting on, winding toward a copse of trees that grew farther down the mountain. They looked like depressions in the snow, dark and clear against the glittering starlight, as if some enormous creature had walked across the rocks, its paws melting the snow behind it. Ghost took a few hesitant steps forward. The marks definitely led toward the copse, but they seemed to end there. . . .

Then the clouds parted again, and the moon came out. It flooded the landscape with bright, clear, ordinary moonlight.

And the marks were gone.

“What?” Ghost bounded forward again, to a spot where he knew he had seen the trail, but the snow was clear and perfect.

Ghost’s heart began to beat, faster and faster.

“Snow Cat,” he breathed. “Leave your paw prints in the snow, that we may follow them. That’s what we always say. And . . . and you did!”

He took another long look at the copse on the mountain slope below, trying to fix in his mind the exact position where he’d seen the marks vanish, and then he turned and ran back to the cave.

“Mother,” he said as he skidded inside. “Something’s happened. Something amazing has happened!”

“Ghost,” Winter replied. “What do you mean? I’m glad you’ve come inside—”

“You have to come! You all have to come. The Snow Cat sent me a sign!”

Snowstorm and Frost raised their heads and blinked blearily at him.

“You . . . What?” Snowstorm stood up and shook herself from ears to tail. “The Snow Cat did what?”

“I saw its prints in the snow,” Ghost gasped. “Just like we always ask it! One minute there was nothing there—the snow was fresh, just like it is now—and then I felt its breath on me, and then I saw them, leading down to the trees, farther down the slope. We’ve got to follow!”

Frost and Snowstorm stared at Ghost, then looked at each other, and then at Winter.

“Wow,” Shiver whispered. “Show me!”

Ghost’s fur felt almost as warm as when the Snow Cat had breathed on him with its breath. He’d known Shiver would understand. He led her back outside. She looked out onto the snow, her eyes huge and round in the moonlight, and then she looked up at Ghost in disappointment.

“I don’t see anything,” she said.

“No, they vanished again when the moon came out,” Ghost said. “But I know exactly where they were leading.”

“Ghost, come on,” Snowstorm said, stepping out of the cave with Frost and Winter in tow. “There’s nothing there, and there’s clearly never been anything there. Maybe you dozed off. Or it was a trick of the moonlight.”

Ghost started to shrink into himself, and then changed his mind and sat up tall and straight. “I don’t care what you think. I saw them, and I’m going.”

“We’ll all go,” said Winter firmly. She turned to Snowstorm, who gave her a pleading look, and Frost, who just looked totally confused. “We believe in Ghost, don’t we? So we’ll follow the Snow Cat’s path and see where it leads us.”

Ghost gave his mother a quick, grateful nuzzle and then turned and headed away at a fast trot across the snow, with Shiver scurrying at his heels.

It felt good to be leading the way, even if he wasn’t quite sure what he was leading the way to.

Please, Snow Cat, he thought, looking down at Shiver’s expectant face, and back at the skeptical expressions of his other littermates. Please don’t fail me now. . . .

They drew close to the copse of trees, where Ghost had seen the marks in the snow vanish, and he slowed and stopped. Something told him not to go into the trees just yet. There was nothing there now but darkness and the scent of pine needles. He led his family instead to a sheltered spot behind a large patch of grass, and gestured them to stay put and wait. He settled down, his heart beating hard in his throat, and watched the trees keenly.

What if we’re too late? he thought. What if I was supposed to go at once, and not fetch the others?

Nothing happened for what felt like a long, long time. Snowstorm and Frost had started out keeping obediently still and silent, as if they sensed that something was about to happen, but finally Frost rested his chin affectionately on Ghost’s shoulder and said, “You’re sure you saw something? Don’t you think you might have imagined it?”

“I . . . no,” Ghost whispered back. “It was like a dream, but I was awake. It was real.”

But perhaps I was wrong about what it meant, he thought. Perhaps I should have gone straight into the trees. Perhaps . . .

Then there was a crunching of pine needles, and the scent of cracked pine and . . .

Prey!

Ghost peered between the long blades of grass and saw a large deer step delicately out of the trees and into the moonlight. It looked around, ears pricked and huge black eyes alert. Then it turned its back on the leopards and lowered its head to graze on the grasses around the base of the trees.

He looked around and saw with satisfaction that Snowstorm’s and Frost’s jaws were open in shock. Shiver kneaded the snow at her paws with excitement.

“Can you catch it?” she breathed to Ghost.

Ghost looked at the deer. It was oblivious to their presence, just like the goat. Then he looked at his mother. Winter was watching him carefully, her gaze occasionally flicking back to the deer.

“I can’t,” Ghost said. “But you can, can’t you, Mother?”

Winter pressed her forehead to his. “Good boy,” she said, so low he was sure the others couldn’t even hear. “I love you.” Then she turned to the others. “Stay here.” And she stepped out from behind the grass without hesitation, moving fast, but in absolute silence. Ghost and his littermates could only huddle close together and watch as Winter stalked closer and closer to the deer, her belly low to the ground and her haunches tense. As soon as she was close enough, she leaped. The deer never knew what was coming until it was on the ground, spindly legs kicking in the air, with Winter’s fangs buried deep in its neck.

Ghost sprang from the bush and ran over to her, with his littermates on his heels.

“Ghost,” Winter said, looking up at him, the deer’s blood painting her muzzle a deep dark red in the moonlight. “Go on. It’s your kill.”

Ghost lowered his jaw to the neck of the weakly struggling creature and bit down as hard as he could. The deer went limp almost at once.

“It’s a feast!” Shiver meowed, pacing from one end of the deer’s body to the other, sniffing happily. “Well done, Ghost!”

Winter bowed her head. “Let’s say the blessing, everyone.”

“We thank the Snow Cat for giving us this prey,” chorused all four leopards. “May you leave your paw prints in the snow, that we may follow them.”

“And thank you for leaving your paw prints that Ghost could follow them!” Shiver added at the end.

“Sorry we didn’t believe you,” Snowstorm said. “But, you know . . . that doesn’t happen.” She looked confused, as if she still didn’t actually believe it. “The Snow Cat doesn’t actually show us where to go; it’s just a blessing.”

“It was real tonight,” said Winter softly. “I’ve always known how special Ghost was. It appears that the Snow Cat knows it too. Now let’s eat our fill, and we can bring what we haven’t finished to the cave when we’re done.”

“Wow! Leftovers!” cried Shiver, rearing up on her back paws and sinking her teeth into the deer carcass in such a playful way that Ghost burst out laughing.

He ate alongside his family, under the moonlight, filling his hungry belly with warm and sustaining meat.

The Snow Cat had shown him his place, and it was here, in the mountains, hunting with his mother.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling happier.