Sign Of The Moon

Splash glanced around, narrowing her eyes. “It looks like the intruders have got into trouble with an eagle.” Her voice was grim. “Serves them right. They’re inside our territory!”

“Shouldn’t we go help?” Dovewing asked.

Swoop shrugged. “They’ll have to learn to defend themselves, like our ancestors did.”

“But we can’t just watch them be killed!” Foxleap protested.

“The eagle won’t kill all of them,” Crag meowed calmly. “It might take one, that’s all.”

The light of battle gleamed in Foxleap’s eyes. “When Clans have a common enemy,” he meowed, “we unite to defend ourselves. We have to help those cats!”

Swoop still looked doubtful, but Splash nodded reluctantly. “He’s right, you know. We can’t just stand here and watch. And if we help, they might owe us any prey they’ve caught!”

Crag hesitated, then nodded and set off, waving his tail for the others to follow him. As she drew closer, Dovewing was almost deafened by the shrieks of horror and pain. That eagle isn’t giving up!

Racing over a low crest, they scrambled up the opposite slope toward the battle. Four cats were fighting with an enormous eagle. The eagle’s talons were fixed in the pelt of a brown-and-white she-cat; her paws waved feebly while the other three cats leaped and clawed at the bird’s wings.

“That’s Flora!” Splash exclaimed.

“Splash, you take the farthest wing with Swoop,” Crag ordered. “I’ll take the nearest. Wait for my signal.”

“What can we do?” Dovewing called.

“Stay out of the way,” Crag replied, as Swoop and Splash raced around the eagle. “You’re not trained in this sort of fighting.”

Dovewing and Foxleap stood close together in the shelter of a boulder, watching the eagle as it flung the intruding cats away. One of them, a young tortoiseshell no bigger than an apprentice, was hurled against a rock, where she lay stunned and bleeding from one ear.

“Now!” Crag yowled.

As he leaped at one of the eagle’s wings, Swoop and Splash sprang at the other, trying to hold the bird down between them. It let out a raucous screech of fury, and Dovewing imagined that its talons were gripping Flora even more tightly. She shivered with terror as she stared at the eagle’s glaring yellow eyes. Is this how prey feels?

The other two intruders, a black tom and a skinny brown tom with big ears, threw themselves back into the battle, clawing at the eagle’s legs, but they were already hurt and exhausted from the struggle, and their blows were feeble. The eagle was big and determined, almost managing to take off with the little she-cat, in spite of the Tribe cats weighing down its wings.

There are only three of them, Dovewing thought, fear flooding through her. They can’t do this on their own.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Foxleap muttered. “I’m not standing here like a useless lump of fur!”

He sprang forward and latched his claws into the eagle’s wing, just as it shook off Crag with a screech. Crag twisted in midair and attacked the eagle’s naked, gnarly legs, clawing first at one and then the other. With a shriek of rage the eagle let go of Flora; she hit the ground and lay still. Swoop and Splash leaped gracefully to the ground.

“Okay, Foxleap!” Crag meowed. “You can let go!”

But Foxleap didn’t release his grip. Dovewing’s heart began to thud as she realized that her Clanmate was stuck. He dangled from the eagle’s wing by his claws, twisting and wrenching to free himself as the bird battled into the air.

Before any other cat could move, Swoop let out a furious screech. “No!” She leaped up again, grabbing at the eagle’s wing with one forepaw, while with the other she batted at Foxleap. His claws dislodged, Foxleap crashed to the ground, where he lay winded.

But just as Swoop began to drop to the ground again, the eagle whirled around in a storm of wings. Blood-splashed talons shot out and sank into her back.

“Swoop!” Splash shrieked. She tried to jump into the air, but the eagle was already climbing higher.

“No!” Swoop screamed, battering the air with her paws. “Help! Crag! Splash…”

Dovewing could still hear her as the eagle’s wings beat more strongly and carried him off, vanishing over a distant peak. The sound of Swoop’s terror filled her head until she thought she would never hear anything else again.

Trembling, Dovewing blocked her ears with her paws. “I’m sorry, Swoop,” she whispered. “There’s nothing I can do…”

Silence fell. The snow-covered slope was stained with blood and strewn with feathers. The Tribe cats stood silent, watching Dovewing as she writhed in agony. The intruders had picked themselves up; even Flora was standing shakily on her paws. They exchanged swift, guilty glances, but said nothing.

Dovewing lifted her head, feeling cold horror course through her veins. She couldn’t hear Swoop screaming now—and that was the most terrible sound of all. “She’s dead,” she whispered.

Foxleap staggered to his paws and faced the Tribe cats. “I’m sorry,” he mewed, his voice full of anguish. “It was my fault.”