Sign Of The Moon

Lionblaze blinked. He couldn’t understand why any warrior would grieve over a piece of fresh-kill. “It was a good catch,” he mewed encouragingly.

“That’s not the point.” Cinderheart was still looking down at the dead bird. “I always wanted a mate and kits,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t my destiny. Never to feel the warmth of fur…never to suckle…”

“You’ll find another mate,” Lionblaze told her, trying to comfort her even though it wrenched his heart. “You can still have kits.”

Cinderheart spun around to face him, blue flame in her eyes. “You don’t understand!” she spat. She gouged at the earth with her hind claws, burying the blackbird. “I’ll hunt alone!” Without waiting for a response from Lionblaze, she plunged away into the trees.

Lionblaze looked after her, baffled. What was all that about? Movement caught his eye and he glanced around to see Leafpool padding toward him. How much of that did she hear?

“Are you okay?” Leafpool asked gently as she drew close to him.

Lionblaze was too dazed to reawaken his old grudge against her. “Not really,” he confessed. “Things aren’t working out with Cinderheart.”

Leafpool nodded, and to his relief she didn’t ask him to explain why. He knew that he couldn’t tell her about the prophecy.

“Why don’t we look for prey beside the lake?” she suggested, turning in that direction with an inviting twitch of her tail.

Surprising himself, Lionblaze fell in beside her and they shouldered through the undergrowth together, the tang of water in the air growing stronger as they drew closer to the waterside.

“Cinderheart seems to think we have different destinies,” he meowed after a few moments. “I don’t understand her.”

“I think I do.” Leafpool blinked sympathetically. “And I really believe that she loved you—in fact, I think she still does.”

Lionblaze clawed in frustration at a tendril of bramble that snaked across their path. “Then why can’t she just be with me? Why does she have to make it all so difficult?”

Leafpool shook her head but didn’t reply. For a while they padded along together in silence. As they reached a narrow track that wound its way toward the lake, Leafpool halted, tasting the air. Lionblaze thought she had detected prey, and winced as she darted noisily to the edge of a bramble thicket.

You won’t catch anything like that!

But Leafpool was pushing dead leaves aside with one paw, to reveal three bright yellow coltsfoot flowers. “The first this season!” she exclaimed. “I’d better take these back to camp. They’ll be good for Mousefur’s cough.”

“Do you miss being a medicine cat?” Lionblaze asked, as Leafpool carefully nipped off the stems.

“With every breath I take,” she murmured.

“Then what was your destiny?” Lionblaze mewed, the words tumbling from his jaws. “I mean, if you were meant to be a medicine cat, then you wouldn’t…StarClan wouldn’t have let you and Crowfeather…”

Leafpool bowed her head. “Destiny isn’t a path that any cat follows blindly,” she meowed. “It is always a matter of choice, and sometimes the heart speaks loudest.” She paused, then added, “Deep down, I always knew what I had to do, and that’s why I came back to the Clan. Lionblaze, whatever else happens, I trust you to know the right thing to do as well. Listen to your heart, because that’s where your true destiny lies.”

Chapter 9

Dovewing’s pelt prickled with excitement as she followed Squirrelflight past the horseplace and up the hill. She had never been this way before. New sensations crowded in on her from all sides: the scent of horse, and the way the huge creatures slammed down their hooves as they cantered across their field; strong RiverClan scent borne on the wind that blew from their territory; the scents of reeds and stagnant water from the marshes that bordered the lake.

“This is so cool!” she exclaimed to Jayfeather, who was padding beside her, setting down his paws unerringly in spite of his blindness. Jayfeather just let out a faint grunt and twitched an ear.

Be like that! Dovewing thought crossly. She turned to look at Foxleap, who was gazing around with wide, wondering eyes.

“You can see so much from up here!” he meowed.

Dovewing fell back to walk beside him. “There’s a really good view of the island from here,” she remarked, flicking her tail to where she could see the Gathering place far below; at this distance the tree-bridge looked like the thinnest twig.

“And there’s ShadowClan territory.” Foxleap angled his ears toward the dark pines bordering the lake beyond the island.

Dovewing let her senses reach out until she found the ShadowClan camp. Blackstar and his deputy, Rowanclaw, were deep in conversation, while Littlecloud was in his den, muttering under his breath as he counted juniper berries.

I wonder what Foxleap would say if I told him exactly what I can see from here?

“There’s RiverClan,” she mewed aloud. “You can just see their camp—there, between the two streams.”

“Too bad there are so many trees and bushes,” Foxleap responded, letting out a mischievous mrrow. “We could spy on them!”