Sign Of The Moon

A thick, heavy silence surrounded Jayfeather. Everything was dark and for a moment he thought that he was blind again. Then he realized that ice crystals were sealing his eyes shut; in spite of the pain he forced them open, only to see nothing but glimmering white all around him. When he tried to gasp in air, beads of snow stung the back of his throat.

I’m buried!

The light seemed to be coming from somewhere above his head. Jayfeather scrabbled toward it; a few heartbeats later his head broke out into the air and he looked around. The storm was over. Stillness covered the valley; the peaks were dark shapes cutting into an indigo sky where the last scarlet streaks of sunset were beginning to fade. He was completely alone.

Terror that the other cats had died in the snowfall rooted Jayfeather to the ground, but he forced himself to start moving. Kicking out with his hind legs, he climbed out of the snow and stood for a moment shaking clots of it from his pelt.

“Jay’s Wing!”

The shout came from behind him; Jayfeather spun around to see Stone Song fighting his way out of a drift a little farther up the valley. Jayfeather floundered through the loose snow and dragged him out. At first the gray tabby tom was silent with shock, gazing at the mountains as if he didn’t remember where they were.

“Are you okay?” Jayfeather prompted. “We have to look for the others.”

Stone Song shook his head to clear it. “I’m okay,” he panted. “Have you seen them?”

Jayfeather shook his head.

“They have to be here somewhere,” Stone Song muttered. “We have to find them.”

By digging up all this snow? Jayfeather thought, appalled. Then he spotted a dark patch of color on top of the snow a few fox-lengths away. Plodding over to it, he saw that it was blood. “Over here!” he called to Stone Song. “Chasing Clouds was hurt; this must be his blood.”

Working together, the two cats scraped away the snow until Chasing Clouds’s body appeared. Jayfeather’s heart beat faster when he saw how still the cat lay, a limp scrap of fur tossed aside by the power of the snow.

Then Chasing Clouds coughed and opened his eyes. “What happened?”

“The snow fell on us,” Stone Song explained. “I think we must have dislodged it, fighting that giant bird. Come on, let’s get you out of there.”

Jayfeather and Stone Song hauled Chasing Clouds out of the hole; he crouched on the surface of the snow, still looking dazed, and occasionally licking at the raw flesh on his shoulder where the bird had torn out his fur.

“Half Moon?” Jayfeather called. “Half Moon!”

There was no reply, but a slight movement on the surface a couple of tail-lengths away caught his eye. He thrust his way through the snow toward it; relief crashed over him when he saw Half Moon’s ears and nose emerge from the white covering, followed a heartbeat later by the rest of her head.

Jayfeather scraped energetically at the snow around her until she was able to scramble out. “Thanks,” she gasped. “Have you found—?”

She broke off with a wordless wail of anguish as she saw her father. Struggling to his side, she crouched beside him and began to lick his injuries. Jayfeather could see scratches from the bird’s claws on her back, too, but if she was in pain, she wasn’t showing it, too caught up in concern for Chasing Clouds.

In the dim light, Jayfeather noticed something growing in the hole where Half Moon had been lying. Bending down, he sniffed and recognized the scent of ragwort. That’s good for strength, he thought, remembering what he had learned about mountain herbs on his previous visit to the Tribe. It should help with shock. Craning his neck down into the hole, he managed to nip off a few stems and carried them back to the others.

“Here, eat these,” he ordered, setting the herbs down in front of them. “They’ll make you feel better.”

All three cats looked up at him, then bent their heads to lick up the herbs.

They’ve been through too much to wonder how I know about plants that grow here, Jayfeather guessed, wondering if there were any cobwebs around to stop bleeding. The cave would be the best place to look.

“We should go back,” he meowed. When none of the cats moved, he gave Stone Song a prod. “Come on. Do you want to die out here? Give up when we already came this far? We need to have faith.”

Stone Song looked at him with dull eyes. “Faith? Faith in what?”

Jayfeather flinched, wishing he could call upon StarClan, or the Tribe of Endless Hunting. But those names would mean nothing to these cats. Are there any ancestors watching us right now?

“We should have faith in ourselves,” he told them, trying to put conviction into his voice. “We came this far. We will survive. We must give ourselves time.”

Stone Song blinked. “We might not have time. The mountains might kill us first.”

Jayfeather thought of all the generations of cats to come, all the seasons when the Tribe would live in the mountains until they were discovered by a patrol of cats who had journeyed to visit the sun-drown-place.

“You do have time,” he mewed. “I promise.”