Sign Of The Moon

“No, that’s fine, Hawkfrost,” Breezepelt answered hastily.

Mouse-brain! Ivypool thought.

“Okay.” Hawkfrost’s icy gaze traveled over the group of younger cats. “Attack—now!”

For a moment Ivypool lost sight of the dark tabby warrior as he was buried under a squirming heap of screeching, yowling cats. Then his head reappeared, as if he was trying to swim in a lake of fur. In spite of her dislike of Hawkfrost, Ivypool drew in a breath of admiration as he recovered his paws, lashing out at his attackers. His legs were a blur of motion. His jaws seemed to be everywhere, snapping and tearing. First one, then another of the attacking cats reared back, until Hawkfrost stood alone once again, ruffled and panting but with no injuries that Ivypool could see.

That was awesome, she admitted reluctantly. Almost against her will, her paws were itching to learn how Hawkfrost had managed that.

“Now,” the tabby warrior went on when he had caught his breath, “who can tell me what you’ve learned today?”

“Stay away from your claws,” Tigerheart muttered, licking one bleeding paw.

A murmur of amusement rose from the young cats, but Hawkfrost didn’t share it. “Anything useful?” he prompted.

The white RiverClan warrior raised her tail. “It looked as if you were fighting with all four paws,” she mewed.

“Good, Icewing.” Hawkfrost gave her an approving nod. “That’s exactly what I was doing.”

“But how?” another cat demanded.

“Watch, and I’ll show you. I’ll do it slowly.” Hawkfrost balanced on his hind paws and reached out with his forepaws, claws extended. Then with a swift movement he raked them downward. The moment his forepaws touched the ground, he struck out with his hind paws; any cat unlucky enough to be behind him would have received a blow hard enough to knock them to the ground. “Like that,” he finished. He repeated the move, faster this time. “Now you try.”

Watching the Clan cats practice, Ivypool realized that there were more of them than she had ever seen at one time in the Dark Forest. So many! she thought, her belly tight with apprehension. As well as Tigerheart, his Clanmates Redwillow and Ratscar were there, Sunstrike from WindClan, and a RiverClan apprentice with the white warrior Icewing.

“I always thought Ratscar looked a bit shifty,” Ivypool muttered under her breath. “I’m not surprised he’s here. And Breezepelt has always been an annoying lump of fur. But I sort of liked Sunstrike when I met her at Gatherings, and Icewing looks friendly. What are they doing here?”

What am I doing here? she reminded herself. I’m a spy. So maybe some of these cats are spies for their Clans as well.

But judging by the eagerness with which they were practicing Hawkfrost’s moves, all the young cats wanted to be there for the same reasons as Ivypool first had: to train to be better warriors than their Clans could make them, to be the best they could at fighting and defending their home.

Ivypool knew that if she stayed much longer hiding in the bracken, some cat would scent her. She didn’t want to be accused of skulking around. Even if that’s what I’m doing! Emerging from the bracken clump, she skirted the training cats and padded up to Hawkfrost, giving him a polite nod as she halted in front of him. “Greetings,” she mewed.

Hawkfrost’s eyes were chips of ice. “You’re late,” he snapped.

“Sorry. I found it hard to get to sleep.”

The dark tabby twitched his ears. “Is your Clan not working you hard enough?” he inquired, his voice a menacing purr. “We can soon take care of that.” He raised his voice. “Cats of the Dark Forest!”

At once the cats stopped what they were doing and gathered around him again. Hawkfrost surveyed them approvingly. “Well done,” he meowed. “Now you need a chance to practice your new skill in battle. Ivypool is ready to help you. Strike!”

He leaped out of the circle as the Dark Forest cats converged on Ivypool. She hardly had time for a protesting screech before Breezepelt was on her. He tried the balance-and-slash part of Hawkfrost’s move, but Ivypool sprang backward and he missed, losing his balance and striking the ground so hard that he staggered.

“Tough, mange-pelt!” Ivypool snarled.

Claws raked down her back; she tried to spin around but another cat landed on top of her and she fell to the ground, the breath driven out of her body as the other cat pressed her down. She saw Tigerheart’s amber eyes a mouse-length from her own.

“I’ll teach you to attack my brother!” he growled.

Ivypool lashed out with her hind paws, battering at Tigerheart’s belly. He rolled away, catching her blow over the ear as he did so. Another cat replaced him, and yet another had teeth fixed in her tail. Ivypool could scarcely move. The vicious yowls and caterwauls were so loud they hurt her ears.

I’m fighting for my life!