Sign Of The Moon

“The mountains are pretty amazing, especially when you first see them,” Squirrelflight agreed, coming to stand beside the two younger cats. “I’ll never forget my first visit.”

“Nor will I.” Jayfeather’s neck fur was rising and he spat out the words as if he had unexpectedly bitten into crow-food. “It’s cold and windy and hard underpaw up there, but we have to go, so we may as well keep moving.”

It was the third sunrise since they had left the lake. The sky was clear, but Dovewing fluffed up her fur against the icy wind that blew down from the peaks. “How do cats live up there?” she asked. “Is there any prey?”

“Not that you’d notice,” Jayfeather retorted.

“Of course there’s prey,” Squirrelflight meowed, with an exasperated glance at the medicine cat. “But it’s different, and there are different ways of hunting. You’ll see.” Waving her tail, she set off with Jayfeather just behind her. Dove wing exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Foxleap and followed. Their path led them into gently rolling foothills, covered with rough moorland grass and the tough, springy stems of heather. Rocky outcrops poked through the thin soil.

“This feels like WindClan territory,” Foxleap grumbled. “I don’t like it.”

Dovewing murmured agreement. She was uneasy without the cover of trees and she missed the dense, prey-scented undergrowth of the forest. “At least we can see if anything is trying to creep up on us,” she pointed out.

Sending out her senses, alert for danger, she encountered nothing but the small sounds of distant, hidden prey and the trickle of streams. A harsh cry rang out from overhead; Dovewing looked up to see a bird hovering high above. She didn’t recognize the wide wingspan, but it felt vaguely threatening.

“Eagle,” Squirrelflight mewed. “We’ll see a lot of those where we’re going. We’ll need to watch out, because they’re big enough to attack a cat.”

Dovewing shivered. What sort of place is this, where the birds are dangerous?

The cats trekked through the hills for the rest of that day, with only a short stop at sunhigh. Squirrelflight and Foxleap, working together, caught a rabbit, which all four cats shared in quick, uneasy bites. Gradually the slope grew steeper and the grass thinned out, until the cats were toiling over rock with only tufts of grass and scrawny bushes rooted in cracks. The sun was going down, casting stretched-out shadows ahead of them and flooding the snowy mountain slopes with scarlet light.

I hope we find shelter before it gets dark, Dovewing thought.

Squirrelflight led them along a narrow track that twisted among sharp-sided rocks, where snow still drifted in the hollows, then across an open stretch of ground covered with big, smooth boulders. The cats had to scramble over them, Jayfeather spitting with annoyance because he kept slipping, unable to see where he was putting his paws. At the other side of the boulders, snow lay deeply in a dip in the ground. At the bottom was a pool of water, frozen at the edges, with snow-laden grass growing more thickly around the edges.

“Great, a drink!” Foxleap exclaimed, bounding forward. “My tongue feels as dry as these rocks.”

“Watch out!” Squirrelflight warned.

Following Foxleap more slowly, Dovewing picked up a powerful scent of cats; her paw steps led her across the strongest part, and she realized it must be a border like the ones that separated the forest territories.

“We’re on Tribe territory now,” Squirrelflight explained, satisfaction in her voice as she added, “They’re still keeping the border markers fresh.”

All four cats padded up to the water to drink, but as Dovewing stretched out a paw to break the thin ice at the edge and lap up the first cold drops, a yowl split the air behind her.

“Intruders!”

At the same moment a body slammed into her, carrying her off her paws; she hit the ground at the edge of the pool, throwing up droplets from her flailing paws. Sliding out her claws, she scrambled up, tail lashing, to see a black tom, no bigger than an apprentice, staring at her with undisguised hostility.

“Get off our territory!” he spat.

“Wait—” Squirrelflight yowled.

“Dark! Stop!”

A gray-and-white she-cat emerged from behind a boulder halfway up the slope on the other side of the pool, followed by a dark tabby tom and another young cat, a she-cat with a gray speckled pelt.

“But they’re trespassing!” Dark, the black tom, protested.

“No, they’re not.” The she-cat stalked down the slope to stand beside Dark, and gave him a light cuff over one ear. “They are not intruders, they’re guests.” She turned to Squirrelflight, surprise in her voice and the set of her ears, and added more warmly, “Squirrelflight, it’s good to see you again—and Jaypaw.”

“Jayfeather,” the medicine cat corrected her with a twitch of his ears.

“It’s Wing Shadow Over Water, isn’t it?” Squirrelflight stepped forward to touch noses with the gray she-cat. “And Sheer Path Beside Waterfall,” she added with a nod to the dark tabby. “This is Dovewing, and this is Foxleap.”