Sign Of The Moon

Chapter 21

Dovewing’s ears ached from the snow that blocked them; snow filled her eyes and froze her paws until she felt as if they were burning. “I hate snow,” she grumbled. “I’d give anything to be back in the forest.”

“So would I,” Foxleap agreed.

Dovewing had noticed that the Tribe cats moved far more easily through the landscape. They seemed to know instinctively where there were rocks to jump onto, even when they were covered by a thin layer of white. Admiring Splash’s easy grace, Dovewing forgot to watch where she was putting her paws. The snow gave way underneath her and she felt herself sinking into a drift.

“No! Help!” she yowled, flailing her paws as if she was trying to swim through the powdery white flakes.

Crag bounded back toward her and bent over, fastening his teeth into her scruff. Just as if I was a kit! Dovewing thought crossly, scrabbling for a paw hold as the cave-guard hauled her out and set her down again on solid rock.

“Thanks!” she gasped.

Crag’s eyes gleamed with humor. “Anytime,” he purred. “Just ask.”

“How much farther do we have to go?” Foxleap asked, flicking his ears to shake snow off them.

“You see the pine tree over there?” Swoop pointed with her tail. “The one blasted by lightning? That’s the next border marker.”

“When we get there, we’ll have covered half the border,” Crag added. “Then we can head back. We’ll keep looking out for prey, though.”

Dovewing sighed as she looked at the withered pine tree. It was halfway up the opposite side of the valley; it looked a long, long way away.

“Prey!” Foxleap muttered into her ear. “Only the skeleton of a squirrel could live in that blackened tree.”

In spite of her discomfort, Dovewing let out an amused mrrow. “At least we could chew on the bones!”

Following Crag, the patrol slogged down into the valley, across a frozen stream, and up the far slope. They had almost reached the tree when Dovewing heard a yowl of alarm, followed by the screeches of a cat in pain. Wings beat furiously, and paws thudded on hard stone. For a heartbeat she froze. Obviously her companions hadn’t heard anything, but the sounds went on, growing louder and more agonized. Spinning around, Dovewing stared across the valley.

Are Tribe cats in trouble?

Much farther up the slope on the other side, she spotted a knot of cats thrashing in the snow. A huge gold-brown bird hovered over them, striking out with hooked talons.

“Look!” Dovewing called.

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.”

“Yes!” Splash hissed, her eyes narrowed with grief and hostility. “You were told to stay out of it. If you’d done as Crag told you, Swoop would be alive now.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Foxleap repeated.

Dovewing padded over to him and pressed her muzzle against his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured. “You were only trying to help. Without you, the eagle might have taken Flora.”

“Better an intruder than one of the Tribe!” Splash snapped.

Foxleap said nothing, just stared at his paws with numb grief in his eyes.

Crag let out a long sigh. “Blaming Foxleap won’t help. We’d better get back to the cave.”

As they set off, the black tom took a pace forward. “Wait!”

Splash spun around, flexing her claws. “What?”

“Nothing.” The black tom looked embarrassed and guilty. “Just…er…thanks.”

The Tribe she-cat let out a snort of disgust and bounded away with a last glance over her shoulder. “Don’t even think about crossing the border again,” she snarled.

Dovewing stumbled blindly back through the snow. She felt so much pain inside that she scarcely noticed her frozen paws or aching ears. All she could hear was the echo of Swoop’s terrified shrieks as the eagle carried her away.

We should never have come here. This has nothing to do with the prophecy, nothing to do with keeping the Clans safe from the Dark Forest.

The sun was sinking into a troubled mass of cloud by the time the waterfall came in sight. When the patrol finally staggered into the cave, Squirrelflight sprang up from where she had been talking to Talon and Bird. “What happened?” she demanded, fear in her eyes as she bounded over to Dovewing.

“We went to help—” Crag began, but Splash cut him off with a lash of her tail.

“Swoop is dead,” she rasped. “An eagle took her while she was trying to save this cat.” She glared at Foxleap. “He forced his way into the fight when he’d been told to stay out of it.”

Squirrelflight let out a gasp of horror. More cats gathered around them, Stormfur and Brook in the lead.

“That’s terrible!” Stormfur exclaimed.

Brook nodded, stroking her tail over Splash’s shoulder. “No cat has been taken by an eagle for many moons.”

“They have now!” Splash spat.

“I’d better report to Stoneteller,” Crag muttered, bounding to the back of the cave.

Brook’s kits, Lark and Pine, were staring up at her with wide, frightened eyes. “Will the big bird come and take us, too?” Lark whimpered.

“No.” Brook bent down and touched each of their noses in turn. “You’re safe inside the cave.”

Dovewing stood close to Foxleap so that their pelts brushed. “We should never have made this journey,” she murmured. “Jayfeather won’t tell us why we had to come, and now a cat is dead.”

Foxleap nodded. “I want to go home.”

Movement in the shadows of the cave caught Dovewing’s eye, and she spotted Stoneteller stalking toward them, with Crag at his shoulder. The old cat halted in front of the group, his amber eyes glaring with anger and hatred.

“No cat wanted you here,” he snarled. “And now one of the Tribe is dead because of you.”

“You can’t blame Foxleap!” Dovewing stepped forward, her neck fur bristling with anger. “He was very brave.”

“I don’t blame Foxleap,” Stoneteller rasped. “I blame all of you. If you had never come to the mountains, Swoop would still be alive.”

Squirrelflight stretched out her tail to touch Dovewing’s shoulder. “He’s right,” she murmured. “We’ll leave as soon as we can. Stoneteller, we are all sorrier than we can say.”

As the old cat opened his jaws to reply, a muffled noise sounded behind them; Dovewing turned to see Jayfeather padding from the Cave of Pointed Stones. His blind blue eyes stared at her. “It’s my fault,” he rasped. “I was the one who said we had to come. I will do what I have to, and then we will leave.”