Sign Of The Moon

“Why did I ever want to leave the lake behind?” Dovewing panted as she scrambled up a narrow gully, her paws slipping on hard-packed snow. “I can’t believe cats actually live here!”

Foxleap, slogging up the gully a tail-length ahead of her, simply grunted in reply. The two ThunderClan cats were almost at the rear of the patrol; only Swoop, one of the cave-guards, followed them, glancing around as she moved confidently over the ice. Stormfur and the other two prey-hunters, Gray and Splash, were strung out ahead, while Crag took the lead. They were no more than blurred shapes to Dovewing, glimpsed through the flurries of snow.

It’s almost newleaf in the forest! she thought, shivering.

A shape loomed up beside her. “Are you okay? Do you want to lean on my shoulder for a bit?”

Dovewing recognized Stormfur. “No, I’m fine,” she gasped. “I can keep going.”

Stormfur dipped his head, his eyes warm and friendly, amber like the glow of tiny suns in this wasteland of white. “Just say if you need help.”

“They haven’t got their snow-paws yet,” Splash remarked, halting to let Stormfur, Foxleap, and Dovewing catch up. “Don’t worry,” she added with a gentle mrrow of laughter. “You’ll be snow cats before you know it.”

“I’m a snow cat now!” Foxleap meowed with a shiver, shaking lumps of snow from his pelt.

I wish Jayfeather would work out what we’re supposed to be doing here, Dovewing thought as she clambered out of yet another drift. Then we could all go home.

To her relief the snow died to a few drifting flakes, then stopped, and the clouds began to clear, torn into tatters by the wind. A little farther on, the walls of the gully tapered off, leaving the cats at the top of an exposed peak. Dovewing gasped as she emerged from the shelter of the gully; the wind felt like thorns in her throat, and the blast almost carried her off her paws. Digging her claws into the ice and grit, she raised her head and looked around. They were surrounded by an endless roll of mountain peaks, covered with snow. There was beauty in the jagged shapes and stark colors, but it was nothing like home.

“Look!”

A sharp meow from Crag startled Dovewing; following the cave-guard’s gaze, she spotted two tiny dots circling far above them in the pale sky.

“What’s that?” Foxleap asked.

“Eagle attack!” Swoop’s voice was terse.

The two dots grew larger; Dovewing realized that they were circling lower, homing in on the group of cats.

“What should we do?” she mewed, fighting panic as she gazed around for cover, while Foxleap crouched and slid his claws out as if he was ready to do battle.

“This way!” Crag and Swoop shoved the two Clan cats back into the mouth of the gully and under the shelter of an overhanging rock. Stormfur, Gray, and Splash crouched down beside them, while Crag and Swoop backed under the outer edge of the overhang, their claws out and their teeth bared.

A heartbeat later the eagles swooped down, their wide brown wings brushing the rocky opening. Dovewing caught a glimpse of glaring yellow eyes and cruel hooked beaks before the birds pulled away again with angry screeches that echoed among the rocks.

“They’re our prey—but they’re attacking us!” she yelped.

“We don’t often hunt eagles,” Splash explained calmly. “But we hunt the things that eagles do, like hares and mice and smaller birds.”

“So we’re in competition,” Gray added.

And birds don’t respect borders, Dovewing realized with a shudder.

Crag was peering out from under the overhang. “They’ve gone,” he reported. “Let’s be on our way.”

Dovewing felt very exposed as she ventured out from under the rock. She imagined those cruel talons sinking into her shoulders, whisking her up into the sky. As she padded across the peak and down into a gully on the far side, she kept glancing up, trying to send out her senses to track the position of the eagles.

The next thing she knew, the ground gave way under her paws. She let out a yowl of alarm, cut off as she landed on soft snow. Blinking in confusion, Dovewing realized that she had fallen down a narrow cleft in the path. Foxleap was gazing down at her, his head and ears outlined against the sky.

“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously.

Dovewing floundered to her paws, the snow too loose to give her a proper footing. “I think so,” she mewed. Glancing up at the sheer stone walls that stretched up around her, she added, “I don’t think I can get out.”

“Okay, don’t panic.” Foxleap was replaced by Crag, his voice brisk and confident. “We’ll get you out.”

How? Dovewing wondered helplessly. She remembered what happened when Icecloud fell into the hole, back in the forest. They had used a branch and an ivy tendril to get her out. But there are no branches or ivy here!

“Here, I’ll do it. I’m the smallest,” Splash meowed. She backed over the edge of the gap, clinging to the top with her forepaws while she dangled her tail down to Dovewing. “Can you grab my tail?”

“But I’ll hurt you!” Dovewing exclaimed.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Splash assured her. “Just do it.”