Sign Of The Moon

Chapter 18

“We have to get out of here!” Ivypool whispered, expecting hostile cats to leap out at them at any moment.

“We’re only exploring,” Blossomfall pointed out, padding up to the paw prints and giving them a curious sniff. “We’re not doing any harm.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like that,” Ivypool retorted, annoyed by Blossomfall’s nonchalance. “It feels like we’re trespassing, and I want to leave.”

Blossomfall shrugged. “Okay, let’s find a way out.”

On the opposite side of the river, more tunnels opened up, leading away into darkness. Ivypool leaped across the stream and headed into the nearest one. But she hadn’t taken many paw steps when she was confronted by a solid wall of mud.

“No good,” she told Blossomfall, who was following her. “This one’s blocked.”

Retracing their paw steps into the cave, they chose another opening. This one seemed more promising at first, leading upward with the occasional chink in the roof to let in light. Then Blossomfall, who was in the lead again, halted abruptly when the tunnel took a sharp turn to one side.

“Mouse dung!” she spat.

Ivypool craned her neck to see past her Clanmate; in the dim light she could make out a tumbled heap of stones and rock stretching right up to the tunnel roof. Ivypool’s heart began to beat faster as they returned to the cave again. “We’ll have to go back the way we came,” she meowed, “and just hope that some cat comes along to help us out of the hole.”

Blossomfall heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

But as they leaped back across the river, Ivypool noticed for the first time that several tunnels led away from the cave on this side. “Do you remember which way we came in?” she asked her Clanmate.

Blossomfall shook her head. “We’ll have to follow our scent trail.”

But no scent lingered on the damp rock, and away from the edge of the water there was no trace of their paw prints on the hard floor.

“We’re lost!” Ivypool yelped.

“We’ll be fine,” Blossomfall reassured her, though Ivypool could detect a hint of panic in her voice. “We’ll just pick a tunnel. Come on!” Racing across the cave floor, she dived into a wide black opening. Ivypool was almost sure it was the wrong one, but she bounded after her Clanmate, terrified that they would be separated.

“Wait!” she yowled. “We can’t—” She broke off at the clatter of falling rocks from up ahead. “Blossomfall!” she called. “What was that?”

There was no reply. Ivypool went limp with terror and she had to force her legs to carry her along the tunnel. A few paw steps farther, she made out Blossomfall in the dim light; the tortoiseshell warrior was lying motionless on the floor with rocks scattered around her. Looking up, Ivypool saw a fresh scar on the roof, and guessed that the rocks must have fallen from there.

“Blossomfall?” she whispered, crouching beside her Clanmate. StarClan, please don’t let her be dead!

A shudder of relief ran through her as Blossomfall’s whiskers twitched and her eyes opened. “Ivypool?” she murmured. “What happened? My head hurts.”

“I think a rock fell from the roof and hit you,” Ivypool replied. “Can you get up?”

Blossomfall scrabbled with her paws, raising her shoulders off the floor, then collapsed with a whimper of pain. “Everything’s whirling,” she complained, her eyes wide and scared. “Oh, Ivypool, do you think we’re going to die down here?”

“Of course we’re not,” Ivypool told her.

“But what if we do? Do you think Millie will miss me?”

Pity rushed through Ivypool from ears to tail-tip. “Of course!” she assured Blossomfall. “Millie loves you just as much as Briarlight.”

As she reassured her Clanmate, Ivypool guessed that this was how Hawkfrost had won Blossomfall over: by giving her the chance to get as much attention as her sister, Briarlight.

Just as he did with Dovewing and me.

She felt sad that Blossomfall was so jealous of her sister for the amount of time her mother and her Clanmates spent with her. Briarlight had lost the use of her legs!

But then, Ivypool thought, I don’t suppose Dovewing’s gift is always so much fun, either. Maybe we should both be grateful for what we have…

Blossomfall hesitated, then shrugged. “Maybe Millie loves me, when she remembers that she has more than one kit.” Stretching out one forepaw, she scraped it against the hard stone of the tunnel floor, so violently that Ivypool was surprised she didn’t wrench her claws out. “I hate myself for feeling jealous of Briarlight,” Blossomfall confessed, not looking at Ivypool. “I can’t bear seeing her suffer and I know Briarlight would give anything to be better and whole again. It’s all so unfair!” Scoring her claws across the rock again, she added, “But I can’t help what I feel, and that proves I’m not a good cat.”

“Of course you are!” Ivypool exclaimed, shocked.

“No. A good cat wouldn’t be jealous of an injured littermate. So that’s why I’ve ended up in the Dark Forest.” She gave Ivypool a sidelong glance. “I’m not stupid. I know it’s where cats go if they’re not allowed into StarClan. But I guess I won’t get into StarClan either, because I hate my sister for being injured. So the Dark Forest is where I fit in, and I’m getting good training, better than anything we get here.” She took in a long, shaking breath and looked around. “Will Hawkfrost come to get us, do you think?”

“I told you, we’re not going to die!” Ivypool put every scrap of conviction she could muster into the words. But what if we do? She couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in the Dark Forest forever. “Blossomfall, do you think you could try again to get up?”

“Maybe.” Blossomfall gathered her legs under her and managed to stand, though she still looked shaky.

As Ivypool was wondering how far her Clanmate would be able to go, she heard the soft pad of paw steps approaching from behind. Every hair on her pelt rose; she felt as though icy water was creeping over her entire body. It took all the courage she had to turn around.

A strange cat padded out of the shadows, a scrawny tom with ginger fur and wide, haunted eyes. “Oh!” he gasped. “I was expecting the other one.”

“What other one?” Ivypool demanded, her voice cracking.

The stranger ignored her question; he was examining her and Blossomfall with puzzled eyes. “Two of you?” he meowed. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Ivypool was too scared to waste time wondering who this strange cat was, or what he was doing here. “We need to get out. My Clanmate is hurt!”

“But if I show you the way out,” the strange cat told her, “I’ll be on my own again. You always promise to come back, but you never do.”

Ivypool stared at him. “We’ve never been here before!” she meowed. “Please, you have to get us out of here.”

The ginger tom flicked his ears crossly. “There’s no need to shout. You shouldn’t have come down here if you didn’t want to stay. It’s not safe, not unless you know what you’re doing.”

“Well, we don’t,” Ivypool replied, wondering what she could do to make him listen to her pleading. “We just want to go home.”

The stranger came nearer, his eyes narrowed in suspicion; Ivypool tensed as he sniffed her, then Blossomfall. His scent spooked her: He smelled of earth and water and cold ancient stone.

“You’re right, you don’t belong down here,” he murmured, and added more briskly, “All right. Go down this tunnel and take the turn after the rock shaped like a mushroom. Follow that passage for ten fox-lengths, and you’ll see that the tunnel splits into three. Take the middle one. That should start leading upward, and you’ll come to a heap of stones. There’s enough space at the top for you to squeeze through, and from there you can see the way out.”

Ivypool’s mind buzzed like a hollow tree full of bees as she tried to remember the directions. “Can you show us?”

“No.” The ginger tom was already backing away. “You must go on your own.”

Before Ivypool could protest, he had vanished into the shadows. “Mange-pelt!” she muttered, lashing her tail. For a couple of heartbeats she stared down the tunnel where he had disappeared, then turned back to Blossomfall. “Come on. Let’s get moving.”

Sending Blossomfall in front, in case the tortoiseshell warrior collapsed again, Ivypool headed along the tunnel. They found the mushroom-shaped rock the ginger tom had mentioned, but the tunnel they had to turn into was completely dark, and there was no way to tell where they were.

“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?

She said nothing of her worries to Blossomfall, but she thought that her Clanmate had worked out the dangers for herself. She was nervous, jumping at the slightest rustle in the undergrowth, and Ivypool’s paws prickled with apprehension with every step she took. She felt vast relief as she detected an overwhelming scent of ThunderClan just ahead, and a few heartbeats later they crossed the border into their own territory.

“Thank StarClan for that!” Blossomfall exclaimed. “Ivypool, what do you think we ought to say when we get back to camp?”

“Not the truth,” Ivypool responded instantly.

Blossomfall halted, bristling, and Ivypool added, “We’re already lying to our Clanmates, in a way, by not telling them about the Dark Forest.”

“That’s different,” Blossomfall muttered.

Though Ivypool didn’t argue, she felt privately that one lie more or less wasn’t going to make much difference.

“We’ll have to say that we got lost,” Blossomfall went on, limping forward once more.

Well, that’s not being entirely honest, is it? Ivypool thought. “Right, really lost,” she mewed out loud.

As they drew closer to the stone hollow, they managed to pick up the pace, but it was well after sunhigh by the time they stumbled through the thorn tunnel and into the camp. Several of their Clanmates were crouched around the fresh-kill pile; Ivypool spotted Sandstorm and Thornclaw, back from the hunting patrol. Firestar and Graystripe were both there, along with her mother, Whitewing, and more of the senior warriors. She braced herself for trouble. When Ivypool and Blossomfall padded forward, their Clanmates looked up, staring at them mid-mouthful; Brackenfur had a mousetail dangling from his jaws, while Sorreltail had a blackbird feather stuck to her nose.

“What happened to you?” Sandstorm demanded, rising to her paws and coming to meet the two she-cats. “Thornclaw and I thought you must have followed a prey trail. Didn’t you catch anything?”

Blossomfall shook her head. “We got lost.”

Ivypool realized how lame the explanation sounded. She couldn’t blame some of the cats for looking at them with suspicion, and her heart pounded harder as Firestar summoned them over to him with a flick of his tail. The ThunderClan leader studied them, his brilliant green eyes narrowed. “You got lost?” he echoed. “In ThunderClan territory?”

“And why do you look as if some cat pulled you through a bramble thicket backward?” Thornclaw asked. “Did you meet rogues? Or WindClan?”

“No,” Ivypool meowed. “We just—”

“Ivypool!” To Ivypool’s relief, her mother, Whitewing, padded up, pushing past Thornclaw and shooting a glare at Firestar. “What does it matter where they’ve been?” she demanded, in between covering Ivypool’s face and neck with licks. “They’re obviously hurt. I thought you’d just been distracted by newleaf prey,” she added to Ivypool. “I can’t bear to think that you were in real trouble.”

“We’re fine, honestly,” Ivypool insisted.

Whitewing’s green gaze was loving. “It’s hard enough having one daughter out of sight,” she mewed. “I can’t lose track of another one.”

Ivypool noticed that Millie had appeared from the medicine cat’s den, helping Briarlight over to the fresh-kill pile. She seemed not to notice Blossomfall until Whitewing called out to her.

“Millie, Blossomfall and Ivypool got lost. It looks as if they’ve had a tough time.”

Millie looked up, then left Briarlight to carry on dragging herself across the camp, while she stalked up to Blossomfall. Her tail-tip was twitching in annoyance.

Wow, Ivypool thought, feeling a pang of guilt that Whitewing had been so kind and sympathetic to her. Millie really does think she’s got only one kit now.

“Where have you been?” Millie snapped. “You’ve wasted a whole morning when you could have been hunting!” Glancing back at Briarlight, who was struggling to join the group at the fresh-kill pile, she added, “Your sister would give anything to be able to help feed the Clan! It’s time you grew up, Blossomfall, and started to behave like a proper warrior.”

Several of the cats stretched their eyes wide.

“There’s no harm done,” Brackenfur meowed, blinking at Blossomfall in concern. “Both cats are home safe, and that’s the main thing, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Millie drew her lips back in a snarl. Her eyes were full of bitterness as she went back to Briarlight.

Feeling awkward, Ivypool padded over to Blossomfall. “Your mother doesn’t mean it…” she began.

Blossomfall dismissed her words with a swish of her tail. “Whatever,” she muttered, her gaze following Millie as she helped Briarlight pick out a plump vole from the fresh-kill pile. “This is just the way it is now. I’d better get used to it. At least I get noticed in the Dark Forest.”

Her words sent a chill running through Ivypool. I wonder how many other cats would be ready to listen to Hawkfrost’s clever words, she asked herself as she looked at her Clanmates, peacefully settled around the fresh-kill pile. It could be any of them training to fight their own Clanmates when the final battle comes!