Bamboo Kingdom #3: Journey to the Dragon Mountain


 
 Map
 
 
 Dedication
 For the doctors, cleaners, farmers, and other essential workers who kept us safe during the pandemic. Thank you.
 Special thanks to CCPPG for their inspiration and creativity, and for enabling Erin Hunter to bring Bamboo Kingdom to the world.
 
 
 
 Prologue
 SNOWSTORM FELT THE FUR along her back tingle and stand up on end as she padded over the ridge and found herself looking over the snowfield toward the Endless Maw. There were the familiar snowdrifts, the odd tree standing black and stubborn even all the way up here, in the heart of the White Spine Mountains. There were the practice rocks where she had jumped with her littermates, where they’d played at preparing themselves for the transition to adulthood. And there, beyond the rocks, was the edge of the crevasse where their mother had fallen to her death.
 That all seemed a long time ago.
 It was a perfect day to make the leap. It was cold, but the wind was soft and the sky was like a plain of unbroken pale blue.
 She turned back to Frost, waiting for her brother to catch up. It was just the two of them now, and soon she would have to walk away from even him. That was the snow-leopard way. They would each make the jump over the Endless Maw, and on the other side the Snow Cat’s paw prints would guide them onto their separate paths. Only the Snow Cat could tell if they would ever see each other again.
 He’ll be fine, she thought. They both would be. They’d already had to survive on their own, since Winter died, hunting their own food and fighting off adult leopards keen to steal their territory. She licked her paw and cleaned her half-mauled ear, feeling a strange pride as her pads brushed the numb scar tissue. That old leopard Flurry had thought it would be easy to take a cave from a pair of vulnerable orphaned cubs, but he’d been wrong.
 Frost walked up to stand beside her, and she leaned against him for a moment.
 “Ready?” he asked.
 “Obviously,” she replied.
 Frost nodded. “Me too.”
 But neither of them moved for a few more moments.
 “What do you think Shiver and Ghost are doing right now?” Frost asked.
 Snowstorm sighed. “I hope they’re somewhere warm, and they’ve got enough to eat. I hope they’re together.” She scraped one big paw through in the snow, thinking about Shiver’s weak lungs and Ghost’s tailless, lumbering body. Not for the first time since they left the White Spine, Snowstorm felt a spike of guilt and anxiety for her littermates.
 “I miss them,” said Frost simply. “I hope they know . . .” He trailed off, but Snowstorm was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say.
 I hope they know we don’t blame them for Mother’s death.
 Snowstorm hoped that too, but she didn’t think it was very likely. She’d told Ghost that it was all his fault, right before he’d left. She’d said some horrible things. He would probably never know she didn’t think them anymore. . . .
 “Well!” said a voice. “Look who finally got up the courage to come back here!”
 Snowstorm spun around and looked up to see a pair of long, fluffy tails dangling from the gnarled branches of a nearby tree. She sighed and rolled her eyes at Frost. It was the cubs Born of Icebound: Brisk and Sleet. They lounged side by side in the tree, tails twitching as they looked down at the cubs Born of Winter.
 “Funny, I don’t think I’ve seen you up here since . . .” Sleet pretended to stop and think. “Oh, that’s right—since the last time one of you freaks tried the leap.”
 “Didn’t go too well, did it?” said Brisk.
 “Are you off to join Winter at the bottom of the Maw?” Sleet sneered.
 Snowstorm sprang into a run. She pounded across the snow, right at the tree where the two leopards were sitting. At once, the cubs Born of Icebound scrambled to their paws, ears pinned back with fear. Brisk climbed onto a higher branch, and Sleet braced himself, tucking his tail up out of reach just as Snowstorm got to the tree trunk and made a swipe for it.
 “Strong words from a pair of cubs who haven’t even tried the leap,” Frost said evenly, following behind her at a stroll.
 “They don’t need to leap the Maw,” Snowstorm snarled, pacing around the tree trunk. “Our mother may be dead, but at least we’ve learned to look after ourselves. These two will be living in Icebound’s cave until their fur falls out!”
 Sleet growled. Snowstorm crouched as if she were going to pounce up into the tree, and Sleet’s growls turned into a yelp as he clawed his way onto the higher branch, jostling for space with Brisk.
 Snowstorm relaxed.
 “Come on,” she said to Frost. “We’re adult leopards now. We don’t need to fight with cubs anymore.”
 She turned away, and she and Frost set out together over the snow, ignoring the hisses of Brisk and Sleet. She’d mostly said it to annoy them, but it was true, too. On the other side of the Endless Maw they would be real adults, and nothing the cubs Born of Icebound could say would change that.
 Her heart started to beat harder as they approached the edge of the crevasse. Flickers of memory came back to her, the horrible and wonderful all mixed together: Winter’s body falling from the slippery ledge, Winter fighting Icebound to keep them safe, Ghost climbing safely out of the Maw, the terrible things she had said to him. She took a deep breath and raised her head. The memories couldn’t weigh her down now.
 Even though the day was bright and the weather still, the Endless Maw was so deep that the bottom was wreathed in shadow. There was no