Sign Of The Moon

“What sort of bird?” Lark mewed. “A lark like me?”

“An eagle!” Pine suggested.

“It doesn’t matter what sort of bird,” Talon told them. “Let’s make it a crow, okay? And you’re going to catch it.”

“Yes!” A scuffling sound told Jayfeather that Pine had tried to pounce on the feathers already.

“Wait a moment.” Bird’s quieter voice broke in. “It’s not as easy as that. You have to creep up on the crow across this patch of stones.” Jayfeather heard the sound of pebbles sliding across the cave floor. “If you disturb one and make a noise, the crow will fly away.”

“Oh, cool!” Lark exclaimed. “I bet I can do it.”

“So can I,” Pine declared. “I’m going to be the prey-hunter.”

Leaving the kits to their game, Jayfeather crossed the cavern to the tunnel that led into the Cave of Pointed Stones. The stone closed around him as he padded forward; after no more than a few paw steps he blundered into the wall, his paws almost skidding out from under him on the damp floor.

He let out a hiss. He hated having to squeeze through the narrow passage, and found it hard to check his position by the echoing drip of water when all other sounds were muffled by the rumble of the falls. Recovering his balance, he edged forward more slowly, frustrated by the way that every paw step felt the same; he missed the forest, where the covering of moss, twigs, ferns, and grass could tell him everything he wanted to know about where he was.

At last Jayfeather sensed that the tunnel walls had opened into a larger cave. The noise of the falls was fainter here, the drips of water echoing more loudly in contrast. There was movement in the cool air against his whiskers; he knew it came from the hole in the roof where moon and starlight could enter, bringing signs from the Tribe of Endless Hunting. Tasting the air, he located Stoneteller at the far side of the cave.

“Who’s there?” the old cat growled. Before Jayfeather could reply, he added, “Oh, it’s you.”

Jayfeather padded forward, skirting the stones and pools of water until he stood in front of Stoneteller.

“Why are you here?” the Healer growled. “And don’t give me that nonsense about wanting your young cats to gain experience. You can be honest with me.”

Jayfeather chose his words carefully. “I was told to come.”

To his surprise, Stoneteller didn’t ask who had summoned him. “We don’t need your help,” he insisted. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“You haven’t chosen a successor,” Jayfeather challenged him. “Is that because you don’t believe your Tribe will survive without you?”

Stoneteller let out a contemptuous snort. “Their survival doesn’t depend on me. Even while I’m alive, I can do nothing to help them. Nor can our ancestors,” he added bitterly.

Jayfeather knew that the old cat felt he had been betrayed by the Tribe of Endless Hunting, who had refused to guide him when the intruders came to the mountains. “The Tribe has to be given a chance to survive!” he protested. “It would be too easy to give up the first time something goes wrong.”

“It’s not the first time!” Stoneteller snapped. “Have you forgotten how so many of us were hunted like prey by Sharptooth? Our endless struggle against the cold and snow? The danger from eagles that means half the Tribe must stand guard while the other half hunts? We could catch twice as much prey if there were no eagles. Queens can’t even nurse their kits in peace; they have to go straight out on patrol again.” He lashed his tail. “Cats do not belong here!”

While Stoneteller was speaking, Jayfeather became aware of a faint light coming from above, illuminating one wall of the cave, slick with water, and one tapering column of stone that rose from the cave floor to meet another spike jutting from the roof, with no more than a mouse-length between their two points. If he could see, and he wasn’t asleep, that meant only one thing…

A shiver tingled through Jayfeather from ears to paws as he made out the shape of Rock in a beam of moonlight. The ancient, hairless cat stood with his head bowed. Then he looked up and turned his sightless eyes on Jayfeather.

“We do belong here,” he rasped. “This was my home once, before the cats lived by the lake, before they came back here to start again.”

Stoneteller didn’t react; he had no idea of the ancient visitor to his cave. Jayfeather opened his jaws to ask a question, but before he could speak Rock went on.

“I was the very first Stoneteller, though my legacy was long forgotten by the time my kin left here to find the lake. If the Tribe of Rushing Water leaves, it will not be forever. Cats must live here always.”

“You were the first Stoneteller?” Jayfeather whispered, but the vision was already fading and darkness covered his eyes once more.

“Of course not.” Stoneteller sounded puzzled. “I was chosen by my mentor.”

“Then you have to choose another one!”

“Why?” Stoneteller shot back.

Jayfeather scraped his claws against the wet rock in frustration. “Because cats must always live in the mountains.”