Sign Of The Moon

“Stormfur.” Jayfeather dipped his head in response. “This is Dovewing, Whitewing’s kit.”

Dovewing blinked, impressed that she was face-to-face with a cat who was almost a legend among the Clans. Born of a ThunderClan father and RiverClan mother, Stormfur had made the journey to the sun-drown-place to meet Midnight, and later had taken part in the Great Journey when the Clans discovered their new home by the lake. But he had loved Brook so much that he had abandoned his Clan to live with her and make his home with the Tribe.

“How are things beside the lake?” Stormfur asked. There was a hunger in his voice, and Dovewing understood that even though he had decided to stay here in the mountains, part of his heart would always be with the Clans.

“Pretty good,” Jayfeather replied. “We had a drought last greenleaf, and the lake almost dried up, but Dovewing went with a patrol to bring the water back.”

Stormfur’s amber eyes shone as he looked at Dovewing. “Well done! That must have been hard.”

Dovewing ducked her head. “I was scared most of the time. We had a tree fall into the stone hollow, too,” she added, eager to change the subject. “All the dens look very different now.”

Stormfur nodded. “And RiverClan?” he asked.

“I think they’re okay,” Dovewing told him. “But Leopard-star died.”

Stormfur bowed his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. She was a great leader.” He paused, then continued. “So is Mistystar Clan leader now?”

Dovewing nodded. “She’s a great leader, too.”

“I can imagine. StarClan made the right choice.”

“So who will Stoneteller’s successor be?” Jayfeather asked, with an edge to his voice that hinted there was more to the question than Dovewing understood.

Stormfur shook his head. “Stoneteller has refused to name any cat as his successor,” he meowed. “You can imagine how the Tribe feels about that.”

Dovewing felt puzzled. “Why is that such a problem?”

Stormfur turned to her. “Each Tribe Healer has the same name,” he explained. “Teller of the Pointed Stones, or Stoneteller. Usually each future Stoneteller is chosen as a kit, to be mentored by the current Stoneteller for as long as possible. Now the Tribe is afraid that a new Stoneteller won’t have time to learn everything before the present Stoneteller dies.”

“That means you might not have a leader!” Dovewing exclaimed. She knew that Stoneteller was both leader and medicine cat of his Tribe. How would the Tribe cope without either?

“So what is the Tribe of Endless Hunting doing about this?” Jayfeather asked. “If they—”

Stormfur interrupted him, signaling for silence with a sharp flick of his tail. He crept to the edge of the rock and looked over. Dovewing slid up beside him. Less than a tail-length away, the waterfall thundered down into the pool below.

“Careful,” Stormfur warned her softly.

Far below, where the path led behind the water to the cave, a cat had emerged. Dovewing recognized the scrawny shape of Stoneteller. “What’s the matter?” she whispered to Stormfur. “Maybe he just wants some peace and fresh air.”

Stormfur shook his head. “The Healer never leaves the cave,” he explained, “except to perform ceremonies here on the cliff top. And there aren’t very many of those…usually just when a cat dies. He’s supposed to stay in the cave the whole time, to receive messages from the Tribe of Endless Hunting.”

“He never leaves the cave?” Dovewing echoed, suddenly sorry for the fragile old cat imprisoned in those walls of stone and water.

“Never. Especially at night, when the reflections of stars are most vivid. So by coming out now, Stoneteller is defying his ancestors and the ancient laws of his Tribe.”

Dovewing looked down at Stoneteller, who was sitting at the edge of the pool, gazing at the mountains. She wondered what he was thinking, and why he was so angry that the Clan cats had come. Would he feel differently if he knew that Jayfeather and Dovewing had been promised the power of the stars?

What if the prophecy means that we have to protect the future of the Tribe as well as the Clans?

Chapter 12

Lionblaze jumped onto a fallen tree trunk and arched his back in a long stretch, enjoying the feeling of sunlight on his golden fur. Buds were appearing on the trees, and in the clumps of dead brown bracken, vivid green fronds were beginning to unfurl. The branches seemed full of birdsong, and he could hear the scuffling of small creatures in the undergrowth.

Newleaf is almost here, he thought.

Behind him, his patrol emerged into the open: Cinderheart, ears and whiskers alert for the signs of prey; Toadstep, making more noise than a whole pack of badgers; and Rosepetal bringing up the rear.

“Right.” Lionblaze sprang down from the tree into the clearing on the other side. “This is a good place. Firestar asked Cinderheart and me to help you brush up your hunting techniques,” he added to the two younger cats.

“Oh, great!” Toadstep gazed at Lionblaze with shining eyes. “Will you teach us some fighting moves, too?”

“Please?” Rosepetal added eagerly.