Sign Of The Moon

“That’s enough.” Stone Song stepped between Jayfeather and Broken Shadows. His voice was firm but his eyes were sympathetic as he gazed at the grieving she-cat. “You were one of the cats who chose to come, Broken Shadows. And we all abide by the casting of the stones.” Laying his tail over her shoulder, he drew her away to the edge of the cave. “Let’s find you some fresh-kill,” he meowed. “And then you should rest. We’ll all feel better after a good sleep.”

Rising Moon followed them and stayed with Broken Shadows, while Stone Song returned to Jayfeather. “Are you okay?” he asked, sounding friendlier. “You must have had a hard time, following us on your own. Whatever made you stay behind by yourself?”

“I got scared.” Jayfeather offered the same lie that he had given to Half Moon.

“You?” Stone Song sounded incredulous. “But you were the one who wanted to leave! You convinced me that there was a place for us among these stone hills.”

“I know.” Jayfeather scraped his forepaws across the hard rock of the cave floor, hoping that his confusion would be put down to guilt and embarrassment. “That’s what scared me. I’d sort of taken responsibility, and I couldn’t face it. I’m sorry.”

“But you’re here now,” Half Moon murmured. “You didn’t want to leave us after all.” There was hope in her voice.

“That’s right. And even though I was scared, I never doubted what we were doing. This is the place where we’re supposed to be.” Suddenly a wave of exhaustion swept over Jayfeather. The light in the cave was gray; it could have been dawn or twilight for all he knew. He had no idea how he had come to be here among the ancient cats, or what he was supposed to do now.

While he stood trying to collect his chaotic thoughts, Chasing Clouds came plodding up, his fur still damp and clumped from the storm outside. “We need more fresh-kill,” he announced. “That means going outside to hunt.”

Jayfeather thought that the gray-and-white tom looked tired enough for a mouse to knock him over, but there was a look of determination in his blue eyes.

“And what about nests?” Whispering Breeze demanded. “Where’s all the moss? Or grass, or feathers? Are we supposed to sleep on bare rock?”

“We’ll take a look when the storm is over,” Stone Song promised. “But I don’t know what we’ll find up here to make nests.”

Whispering Breeze gave her whiskers an angry twitch, but said nothing more. Looking at her, and at all the other cats milling about in despair, Jayfeather felt a flash of panic. How will they survive here? Because they’re meant to stay, aren’t they? They’re Rock’s descendants; they have to settle here and form the Tribe of Rushing Water.

As if the thought of Rock had summoned him, Jayfeather was suddenly aware of the ancient cat’s presence at his shoulder, though he could see nothing. Soft breathing stirred the fur around his ear. “You helped them leave the lake,” Rock murmured. “This is their home now. You must make them stay.”

How? Jayfeather wanted to yowl the words aloud, but he knew better than to expect a straight answer from Rock. Besides, the presence of the ancient cat faded as soon as he had spoken. Jayfeather looked around once more. He couldn’t imagine how this pitiful collection of exhausted, dispirited cats could be transformed into the Tribe who made these mountains their home. Where do I begin?

“What about this hunting patrol?” Chasing Clouds’s voice broke in on his musing.

“I’ll come with you,” Stone Song meowed. “Half Moon?”

The white she-cat nodded. “I’m up for it.”

“I’ll come, too,” Jayfeather added, surprised at himself. You can’t hunt, mouse-brain, he reminded himself. But I can see here, he argued. And how hard can it be?

Half Moon gave him a glowing look and padded beside him as they headed out of the cave. In front of the screen of falling water, Jayfeather turned and looked back. The two elders, Cloudy Sun and Running Horse, were both stretched out, asleep or unconscious. Shy Fawn lay panting on one side, her belly swollen; Jayfeather could see that her kits weren’t far from being born. There’s no way she can travel any farther.

As Jayfeather watched, a small gray she-cat padded up and mewed something to Shy Fawn; Jayfeather recognized Dove’s Wing, who was his sister in this time. Something about her anxious sense of responsibility seemed familiar to Jayfeather, but he was distracted by Half Moon prodding him in the shoulder with one paw.

“Are you feeling up to hunting?” she mewed. “You look as if a badger fell on you.”

“I’m fine,” Jayfeather responded, and followed her along the path that led behind the falls.