Sign Of The Moon

I can do that just fine, thanks, trees or no trees. Dovewing located Minnowtail giving her apprentice a fishing lesson. “No, Mossypaw, sit where your shadow is behind you, not stretching over the water.”

“And the WindClan camp is over there” was all she meowed to Foxleap, waving her tail toward the moorland on their other side. “It’s in a hollow, but you can’t see it from here.”

“I forgot, you’ve been there.” Foxleap’s voice held a trace of envy. “Was it scary?”

“Pretty much,” Dovewing confessed. “I shouldn’t have—”

She broke off, her pelt bristling as a grief-stricken screech sounded in her ears. For a heartbeat she looked around wildly, half fearing that one of the patrol had been grabbed by a fox. But Squirrelflight and Jayfeather were still walking quietly a few tail-lengths ahead. Foxleap was staring at her as if she had gone mad.

The screech came again. “Antpelt! No!”

Dovewing froze. The dreadful cries of grief sounded so close, but they were coming from the WindClan camp.

Then she heard Kestrelflight’s voice. “Give me more cobwebs.” She was aware of blood pouring from Antpelt’s wounds, and sensed the fever raging inside the young tom’s body.

“Kestrelflight, do something!” Now Dovewing recognized Swallowtail’s voice; she had been the cat who had cried out before. “You can’t let him die.”

“I’m doing everything I can,” the medicine cat hissed. “I’ve given him horsetail and borage, but I can’t stop the infection from spreading.”

“Then give him more!”

Dovewing picked up the sound of a cat chewing borage leaves into a pulp and pushing them down Antpelt’s throat, but the dying warrior was too weak to swallow.

“Oh, StarClan!” That was Onestar’s voice, quiet but full of sorrow. “This is a young cat. Do you have to take him now?”

“I still don’t understand how he got wounds like that.” Dovewing wasn’t sure which cat was speaking now. Maybe Torn ear; I heard him at the Gathering. “I thought it was a dog bite, but none of the patrols have reported seeing dogs in the territory.”

“I know.” Dovewing recognized the other elder, Webfoot. “And those wounds don’t look like any dog bite I’ve ever seen. You’d almost think he’d been attacked by a cat.”

A disbelieving snort came from Tornear. “That’s impossible! He would have said something if it had been a rogue.”

“Antpelt…” Swallowtail whimpered. Dovewing remembered seeing her with Antpelt at a Gathering, and guessed that they had been mates. “Antpelt, please…”

“It’s no use.” Kestrelflight’s voice, heavy with defeat. “He hunts with StarClan now.”

Swallowtail let out another grief-stricken screech, but it seemed to fade into the background; Dovewing heard another cat much more clearly.

“Sunstrike, Furzepaw, come over here.” It was Breezepelt, his voice a low mutter. “Say nothing about the Dark Forest,” he warned. “Antpelt may be dead here, but he’ll still be in the Place of No Stars. Nothing’s changed; he’s still on our side.”

Oh, Ivypool! Horror shook Dovewing from ears to tail-tip. Cats from the Clans were dying because of what was happening in the Dark Forest! Should I go back to ThunderClan and tell her what happened to Antpelt?

“Dovewing!”

A yowl from Squirrelflight jerked Dovewing back to her surroundings. The ginger she-cat was standing farther up the hill, looking back at her with annoyance in her green eyes. Jayfeather was beside her, his claws plucking impatiently at the grass.

“You’re being left behind!” Squirrelflight scolded. “Get a move on!”

“Sorry! I’m coming!” Dovewing called back, forcing her paws to move. She hated feeling as if she was abandoning the Clans to the Dark Forest, but there was nothing she could do to help Antpelt. She just had to pray that Ivypool would be careful. Her sister wasn’t stupid; she’d know soon enough that Antpelt had died from his injuries. Deliberately Dovewing closed her ears to the sounds of grief coming from the WindClan camp.

Foxleap stayed beside her as she plodded up the hill. “It’s okay to be spooked when you’re so far away from home,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”

I can look after myself, thanks! Dovewing just stopped herself from snarling the words out loud. It’s not like I can tell him what the real problem is.

Still quivering from the shock of Antpelt’s death, Dovewing drew closer to the top of the hill. A couple of fox-lengths below her, Jayfeather stumbled over a rock. Instantly Squirrelflight was by his side, steadying him.

Jayfeather turned on her with a hiss. “I don’t need your help!”

Squirrelflight’s tail lashed. “Fine! Sprain your paw and finish your journey before it’s started. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she added more quietly. “Even sighted cats trip.”

Jayfeather let out a growl of annoyance and stomped away toward the hilltop.