Sign Of The Moon

As Dovewing took the final paw steps that brought her up to the ridge, she began to feel strong wind buffeting her fur. Behind her the lake looked small and distant, the different territories blending into one another. Ahead, thick forest covered the downward slope, leading to wide stretches of grass cut through by Thunderpaths. Everywhere she looked, she could see Twoleg dens: some standing alone, some clustered in groups.

All those dens together must be Twoleg camps.

Dovewing stood in a line with her Clanmates, wind flattening their fur and whistling around their ears. Instantly noise blasted through her mind, almost driving her back down the hill. Chaotic visions spiraled in front of her eyes; she froze, paws digging into the ground, as she tried to make sense of what she could see and hear. But the solid hilltop seemed to melt away under her paws, and she was whirled into a storm of noise and color.

A glittering red monster growled out of a flat-roofed Twoleg den; Twoleg kits ran and screeched; a huge black-and-white animal she’d never seen before stared at her from liquid eyes, its jaws moving rhythmically; a male Twoleg pushed a tiny, snarling monster across a stretch of grass, snapping at the stems; more dogs than she’d ever imagined were barking all together; somewhere water was gushing; the scent of crow-food washed over her.

Sick and giddy, Dovewing squeezed her eyes shut, but the whirl of images continued.

“Dovewing! Dovewing!” Foxleap’s voice cut faintly across the turmoil.

Dovewing couldn’t move. She tried to reply to Foxleap, but she couldn’t form the words. Then she became aware of another cat standing close to her.

“Dovewing!” It was Jayfeather’s voice, quiet but incisive. “Focus on me. Block out the rest of the noise.”

“Can’t—” Gasping out a single word was a huge effort.

“Yes, you can. Come on—concentrate!”

His voice was sharp, like a splash of icy water. One by one, Dovewing drew her senses back in. She dared to open her eyes and made out the blurred shape of Jayfeather in front of her.

“That’s better.” She could hear his voice more clearly now. “Focus harder. Don’t let go.”

There was still a dull, aching roar in Dovewing’s head, but she could feel the ground under her paws again, and see her companions; Squirrelflight and Foxleap were staring at her in alarm.

Foxleap drew his tail-tip gently down her side. “It’s all right,” he whispered.

“Are you okay to go on?” Squirrelflight demanded bluntly. “If you’re not, just tell us. It’s not too late for you to go back.”

Dovewing couldn’t stop trembling. She guessed that down by the lake, the hills had shielded her special senses from the outside world. There would be nothing to protect her now. So she’d have to learn to protect herself. The dull roar inside her head threatened to increase, but she pushed it back down. She took a deep breath and faced Squirrelflight, struggling to keep her voice even. “I’ll be fine. I want to keep going.”

Squirrelflight gave her a hard look, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.” She began to lead the way down the slope into the trees.

Foxleap padded close beside Dovewing, their pelts brushing. “Walk with me,” he murmured. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Dovewing was still so shaken that she didn’t have the strength to be angry with him for assuming she was frightened of leaving familiar territory.

As they reached the first of the trees, Jayfeather signed to Dovewing to halt, and let Foxleap pad on alone for a few paw steps. “Did you see the mountain cats?” he hissed into Dovewing’s ear.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Jayfeather let out a frustrated snort. Guilt weighed down Dovewing’s paw steps even more. I should have tried to find out something helpful for the journey.

As she padded farther into the trees, her feelings of uneasiness faded. She was growing used to blocking out the rush of sensations, and she thought that the surrounding trees were cutting off some of the images that assailed her. This forest was very like ThunderClan territory, too; she began to feel at home, and even to enjoy the journey.

“Bet you can’t leap over that!” Foxleap challenged her when they came to a shallow stream.

“Bet I can!” Dovewing retorted, racing up to the bank and pushing off strongly so that her paws landed squarely on the cool moss beyond.

Foxleap jumped after her, but one hind paw slipped as he took off, and he landed with his hindquarters in the stream, droplets splashing up his legs and into his belly fur.

“Clumsy furball!” Dovewing called with a mrrow of laughter.

Foxleap hauled himself out, shaking his reddish tabby pelt. “I’ll show you who’s a furball!” he meowed, launching himself after Dovewing.

With a squeal of excitement, Dovewing pelted away, hiding behind the drooping branches of a willow tree. Foxleap dived after her, chasing her around the trunk and batting at her tail with his forepaws, his claws sheathed.

“Honestly! Are you kits?” Squirrelflight’s voice came from outside the screen of willow boughs.