Sign Of The Moon

“I’m sure we’ve come more than ten fox-lengths,” Ivypool meowed as they padded cautiously forward, “but we haven’t found the place where the tunnel divides.”

“Maybe we’ve passed it without realizing,” Blossomfall suggested. “I think we should go back.”

“Okay.” Ivypool turned and padded into the darkness, straining her eyes for the first signs of light. But the shadows were never-ending.

“We should have reached the first turn by now,” Blossomfall mewed, her voice quavering.

“I know.” As she spoke, Ivypool realized that a faint breeze was ruffling her fur on one side. “I think it’s here,” she mewed, relieved. “This way.”

Almost as soon as they turned into the new passage, Ivypool realized that they had gone wrong again. There was no sign of the mushroom-shaped rock. The passage led steeply downward and her paws slipped on slick, damp rock as she padded along it.

I hope we don’t have to go back. I’m not sure Blossomfall could climb up this way again.

Then Ivypool began to make out a faint gray light filtering from farther down the passage. “We’re getting somewhere!” she called out encouragingly, picking up the pace.

With Blossomfall struggling along behind her, Ivypool stepped out of the mouth of the tunnel and halted, letting out a yowl of disappointment. They were back in the cave with the underground river.

“I don’t believe this!” Blossomfall hissed, flopping down on the ground. “We’ll never get out.”

“I wish I’d asked that cat his name,” Ivypool meowed. “We could call for him.” Twitching her whiskers angrily, she added, “I don’t suppose he would have come, anyway.”

Blossomfall lay on her side, panting. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This is all my fault. I was the one who wanted to come down here.”

“I could have stopped you,” Ivypool argued.

“How?” Incredibly, there was a gleam of humor in Blossomfall’s eyes. “By hanging on to my tail?”

Ivypool let out a snort of amusement. She couldn’t help picturing herself with her teeth sunk into Blossomfall’s tail while the tortoiseshell warrior dangled over the hole.

“Come on! What are you waiting for?”

The voice came from behind them; Ivypool stiffened, her pelt bristling and her paws tingling with fear. A heartbeat later she forced herself to turn around, but she could see nothing, unless perhaps there was a gleam of eyes in the darkest recesses of the cave. She was sure, though, that it wasn’t the ginger tom they had met before.

“You do want to get out, don’t you?” the voice went on impatiently. “You know you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, yes—please help us!” Blossomfall begged.

“Very well. Follow me.”

Ivypool spotted a dark cat shape whisking into one of the tunnels a few tail-lengths away, but however hard she peered she couldn’t make out anything that would help her identify the cat. She hauled Blossomfall to her paws and followed. The tunnel was narrow and dark; Ivypool couldn’t see anything of the cat they were following, knowing its presence only by the pad of paw steps and the scent of earth and water and green forest growth.

The trek went on for a long time, through twisting tunnels and down cross-passages, until Blossomfall began to falter. The tunnel had grown a little wider, so that Ivypool could pad by her side and let her lean on her shoulder.

“Is it much farther?” Ivypool called to the cat in front of them.

There was no reply, but the next turn in the tunnel showed bright daylight ahead. The path leading up to the burst of light was steep, covered in bare earth with a few paw prints here and there. But the cat who had rescued them had vanished.

“Where did it go?” Ivypool asked, puzzled.

Blossomfall was too exhausted to reply. She dragged herself into the open and collapsed into a patch of sunlight beside an oak stump. Looking around, Ivypool thought she caught a glimpse of movement among the ferns a few tail-lengths away.

“Thank you!” she called.

There was no response, and in the same heartbeat the movement ceased. The mouth of the tunnel gaped open among rocks where water had trickled down to form a small pool. Ivypool clawed up a pawful of moss and soaked it in the water for Blossomfall to drink.

“Thanks!” the she-cat gasped, sitting up. “Wow, that place was weird! It’s good to be out in the sun again.”

“We’d better get back to camp,” Ivypool meowed. “Are you fit to travel?”

“I’d better be,” Blossomfall replied grimly.

Examining her Clanmate, Ivypool wasn’t so sure. Both cats were filthy and exhausted, their pads cracked from walking on hard stone. But as well as her injuries from the Dark Forest training, Blossomfall had a bump on her head from the rock fall that almost closed one of her eyes.

“We’ll take it slowly,” Ivypool murmured. She wasn’t even sure where they were. There are too many trees for this to be WindClan, she thought, gazing around at the ancient oaks and beeches, and the tangled undergrowth between them. But suppose we’ve come up in the middle of ShadowClan? What if we meet a patrol?