Sign Of The Moon

Chapter 3

“Can you feel that?” Jayfeather prodded Briarlight’s hindquarters with a claw.

“No,” Briarlight replied, with an impatient wriggle of her shoulders and forelegs. “I’m not getting any better, am I?”

“Of course you are.” Brightheart, who was helping Jayfeather in the medicine cat’s den, spoke warmly as she gave the injured cat’s ears a brisk lick. “You’re getting stronger every day.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Briarlight’s voice brightened. “Icecloud, I’ll teach you some of my exercises if you like.”

“Not yet,” Jayfeather told her. Sensing the young she-cat’s disappointment, he added, “Maybe later, if her leg and shoulder stiffen up. But for now she needs to rest.”

Crouching down beside Icecloud, who was curled up in a nest on the opposite side of the den, he ran one paw over her injured shoulder. “Feel this, Brightheart. There’s no sign of swelling or the heat from a fever. It’s coming along well,” he said with a nod of satisfaction. “You can have a poppy seed for the pain if you like.”

“No, I’m fine,” Icecloud insisted. “I just want to get back to my duties. I should be hunting, and instead I’m just an extra mouth to feed.”

“That’s quite enough of that,” Brightheart scolded her affectionately. “Did you mind hunting for Briarlight, or any of the cats who were sick with whitecough?”

“No, but—”

“Brightheart’s right,” Jayfeather interrupted with a flick of his tail. “If we don’t help cats who are sick or injured, we might as well be loners and rogues.”

Icecloud let out a sigh. “I know. But I want to do what I can, even here. I’ll toss some moss balls for Briarlight.”

“Yes!” Briarlight gave a wriggle of excitement. “I bet I can catch anything you throw.”

“Okay, but don’t overdo it,” Brightheart warned the white warrior. “The more you rest, the sooner you’ll be back on full warrior duties.”

As Icecloud started clawing moss together, Jayfeather withdrew a couple of paw steps to give the young cats space, and sat beside the pool of water that trickled down from the rock wall, stretching out his neck to lap up a few cool drops.

“I’m glad Sandstorm’s getting better,” he remarked to Brightheart as she settled down beside him. “But she still can’t shake off that cough. I hope it’ll clear up when newleaf comes.”

Brightheart nodded. “Cherrykit’s back to her usual energetic self,” she mewed. “And the other cats are over the worst of the whitecough.”

“Right.” Jayfeather rose to his paws and arched his back to give himself a good stretch, then sat down again with his tail curled around his paws. “I’d far rather be treating injuries than the sickness we’ve had to deal with in the last few moons.”

“So would I.” Brightheart’s tone was heartfelt. “We don’t have to worry that Icecloud’s bad shoulder will spread to the rest of the Clan!”

Jayfeather let out a purr of amusement. “I can’t wait for newleaf,” he went on. “Warmer days and more prey will help the Clan get back to full strength. There’ll be more herbs, too, and the plants by the Twoleg nest will have a chance to grow.” His humor faded at the memory of how he had been forced to trade herbs with ShadowClan, and his purr gave way to a low growl deep in his throat.

“What’s the matter?” Brightheart asked.

“I was just thinking about how I had to give catnip to ShadowClan, to exchange for Ivypaw—Ivypool, I mean,” Jayfeather told her. “I was sorry that Littlecloud was ill, but not sorry enough that I wanted to deprive my own Clanmates.”

And I’m not happy with how the other medicine cats are behaving at the moment, he added to himself, unwilling to tell Brightheart about the way his counterparts in the other Clans were insisting on keeping themselves apart following warnings from their ancestors. They’re turning aside from the united path that medicine cats have followed for seasons beyond count. For a heartbeat he asked himself if he was just as guilty, for not wanting to give the herbs to Littlecloud. That’s different, he told himself firmly. The health of my Clan has to come first.

Squeals from nearby told Jayfeather that Icecloud and Briarlight were getting overexcited.

“I’ll see to them,” Brightheart mewed, touching his shoulder with the tip of her tail. “Hey, knock it off, you two! Icecloud, do you want to be stuck in here until greenleaf?”

“But we’re having fun!” Icecloud protested.

Jayfeather left Brightheart to deal with them and padded over to the mouth of the den, where he sat beside the bramble screen. Cats passing through the entrance had worn away the twigs that blocked the gap after the beech tree fell, and once again he could feel the breeze on his face.

It’s about time the twigs were cleared. I hated not knowing where to put my paws every time I had to go in and out.

He raised his head, whiskers quivering as he checked what was going on in the hollow.

Poppyfrost was rounding up her kits, shooing them back to their nests as the sun went down and the scant warmth of the day began to fade. Sandstorm emerged from the warriors’ den and climbed the rocks to join Firestar in his den. Near the mouth of the thorn tunnel, Lionblaze and Cinderheart were instructing their former apprentices about their night vigil.

The camp was peaceful, but Jayfeather’s paws itched to be moving. He knew exactly where he wanted to go: to check out the hole that Icecloud had fallen down. He could almost feel the earth beneath him teeming with lost cats, the ones who never made it out of the tunnels to become sharpclaws.

And Rock! Maybe Rock is there, too!

Jayfeather remembered how the ancient cat had come to him in the lake when he was trying to rescue Flametail, and told him that it wasn’t his time to die. Maybe that meant that Rock was prepared to speak to him again.

“Remember, you have to keep silent.” Lionblaze’s voice drifted across the camp to Jayfeather’s ears. “But nothing says you can’t help each other. If one of you looks sleepy, the other can prod her awake.”

“Off you go, then,” Cinderheart meowed.

Jayfeather heard the two new warriors pushing their way out through the thorn tunnel, while Cinderheart headed for the warriors’ den. As Lionblaze turned to follow her, Jayfeather rose to his paws and bounded across to intercept him.

“Take me to the hole,” he demanded.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Jayfeather lashed his tail. “Why do you think I asked, mouse-brain?”

“Okay, okay.” Lionblaze huffed out his breath. “Keep your fur on. I’ll go with you.”

“Then let’s get moving.”

As Jayfeather emerged into the forest behind his brother, he picked up curiosity from both the young she-cats who were on watch by the entrance to the hollow. He guessed that they would be asking questions if they hadn’t been on silent vigil.

“We’ve got…er…stuff to do,” Lionblaze mewed to the new warriors.

Jayfeather sniffed. Sounding awkward will only make them more curious! “Medicine cat stuff,” he snapped. “And I need a warrior with me.”

He could feel the she-cats’ gazes boring into his back as he padded after Lionblaze toward the old Twoleg nest. It was a relief when the undergrowth closed around them and he knew he was out of their sight. But as Jayfeather followed his brother down the old Thunderpath and veered off to climb the slope, he felt his paws growing heavier. Too many memories were thronging into his mind. He seemed to hear Hollyleaf again as she fled into the tunnel, the underground river roaring behind her.

We couldn’t stop her. She wouldn’t listen when we tried to warn her.

Jayfeather felt Lionblaze’s pelt brushing warmly against his side, jerking him out of the memory. “Stay close to me,” his brother murmured. “The ground is rough here, and there are brambles.”

Jayfeather doubted that Lionblaze was just trying to guide him across difficult terrain. He must have the same misgivings, the same memories. There was comfort for both of them in the touch of a littermate’s pelt. But Jayfeather stopped himself from spying on his brother’s memories. He didn’t want to relive that terrible moment over and over again.

Once was enough. And I don’t think I’ll ever be free of it.

“We’re passing the old entrance,” Lionblaze mewed after a few moments. “At least, I think this is the place. It’s covered over with brambles now; no cat will ever get into the tunnels that way again.”

For several fox-lengths the two cats went on climbing; Jayfeather felt the ground grow smoother beneath his paws, and he picked up the pace until he was almost running.

“Watch out!” Lionblaze yowled, pushing him aside just as Jayfeather’s whiskers touched the outermost sticks of the temporary barrier that had been piled up around the hole.

“Watch it yourself,” Jayfeather retorted, ruffling up his fur as he regained his balance. He stretched out one paw and felt the sticks shift. “I thought Dustpelt and Brackenfur were building a proper cover.”

“They’ve started,” Lionblaze meowed. “But they haven’t had time to get all the way around. We can still get through.”

“Good.”

“I’ll go in first,” Lionblaze continued. “You wait here until I’ve checked it out.”

Jayfeather opened his jaws for a stinging retort. I’m not a kit! You don’t need to take care of me! But he bit back the words; Lionblaze sounded tense and angry, and Jayfeather guessed that he was struggling with his memories of Hollyleaf, rather than worrying about a blind littermate. He heard the rattle of sticks as Lionblaze pushed his way through the temporary barrier. He followed, whiskers quivering as he tried to sense the edges of the hole.

“Careful!” Lionblaze warned him.

“I’m being careful,” Jayfeather insisted as he skirted the hole, getting an idea of how big it was. He stretched out his head and let out a loud meow, listening for the echo as it came up from below. “Deep,” he muttered. “I’m not surprised Icecloud couldn’t climb out.” His ears flicked forward as he listened for the roar of the underground river, but he couldn’t hear anything today. The water must be lower.

“I have to get down there, into the tunnel,” Jayfeather announced.

He heard his brother’s sigh of resignation. “I think you’re completely mouse-brained.” There was anger in Lionblaze’s voice, but fear, too: fear of what they might find if they looked too hard.

“Don’t you want to know the truth?” Jayfeather asked.

“What truth?” Lionblaze challenged him. “It’s been hidden for this long; it can stay hidden forever. Hollyleaf has gone, and we both know that’s for the best. What’s the point in stirring it all up again?”

Jayfeather stretched out his tail to touch his brother on the shoulder. “The caves below the hills have been giving up secrets ever since the Clans arrived here,” he mewed. “Nothing stays hidden down there—nothing.”

Down below, in the distance, Jayfeather thought that he could hear the faint voice of Falling Leaves, trapped forever in the tunnels when he failed to become a sharpclaw.

“Help me! Help me find the way out!” the ancient cat’s voice echoed.

Lionblaze let out a heavy sigh. “Have it your way. But if you insist on going down there, you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.” He stood beside Jayfeather where he could look down into the tunnel. “It’s too far to jump,” he reported after a moment. “Unless we want a wrenched shoulder like Icecloud.”

“What about the ivy tendril they used to pull Icecloud and Dovepaw up?” Jayfeather suggested, his paws itching with a mixture of apprehension and impatience. “Is that still here?”

“Yes,” Lionblaze replied. “But it won’t bear your weight, let alone mine. We need to think of something else.”

Jayfeather heard the sticks shifting as Lionblaze leaped back over the barrier. Frustrated, he clawed the loose earth at the edge of the hole. I’ll jump down on my own if he doesn’t get a move on!

Then he heard his brother returning, dragging something heavy. He hauled it over the remains of the barrier and let it drop with a thump beside Jayfeather.

“I found a fallen branch,” Lionblaze panted. “We can slide one end into the hole and then climb down it, like climbing down a tree.”

Jayfeather waited, his impatience rising with every heartbeat, while his brother maneuvered the branch into the hole. Finally Lionblaze let out a growl of satisfaction. “Done. I’ll go first and make sure it’s safe.”

A creaking sound told Jayfeather that Lionblaze was climbing down. His claws dug into the soft earth and he felt the hairs on his pelt begin to rise.

“I’m down!” Lionblaze’s voice came up from below. “Come on. The end of the branch is about a tail-length in front of where you’re standing.”

Jayfeather groped his way forward. He hated his helplessness in situations where other cats could at least see where the danger lay.

But you wanted to do this, mouse-brain! Get on with it!

Locating the end of the branch, Jayfeather dug his claws in and clumsily scrambled onto it. Dead leaves rustled against his fur, and the branch bounced under his weight. Slowly, tail first, he began to edge his way down.

“That’s it! You’re doing fine!” Lionblaze called.

To Jayfeather’s relief, the branch grew wider as he climbed down, with knots in the wood to provide places for his claws to grip. Gaining confidence, he started to move faster, only to halt and nearly lose his hold as a twig poked him in the side. He let out a yowl.

“Are you okay?” Lionblaze asked.

“No! Your branch is clawing my fur off!” Steadying himself, Jayfeather began to creep downward again, until Lionblaze called out, “You’re nearly there. You can jump now.”

Jayfeather pushed off from the branch and sprang away from it, landing awkwardly on a pile of loose earth. Staggering to his paws, he puffed out a breath. “Made it!”

“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” Lionblaze muttered. “It’s really dark down here.”

I can’t say that bothers me, Jayfeather thought. Blind cats see just as well in the dark.

Cold, old air washed over him, carrying murmurs and half-memories from the ancient cats who had once lived here. His paws itched to head deeper into the tunnels. “Let’s go,” he meowed.

“Wait.” Jayfeather heard the scraping of rocks and realized that Lionblaze was heaving them away from the pile that blocked the way to the former entrance. “What are you doing?”

“Shifting the stones that fell last time,” Lionblaze growled. “Since we’re down here, we may as well look.”

But do you want to know what you might find? Jayfeather didn’t ask the question aloud. He knew very well that arguing with Lionblaze was useless once his brother had made up his mind. Crouching beside Lionblaze, he clawed at the barrier of earth and rocks. The hard edges hurt his paws and as the moments slipped by, his legs began to ache with exhaustion. He could hear Lionblaze panting beside him.

It’s like we’re trying to move the whole hill!

Jayfeather expected at any moment that his paws would encounter the soft pelt of Hollyleaf’s body. Memories of all the rotting crow-food he had ever scented raced through his mind, but the only scents he could pick up were of earth and water and stone. He paused in his scrabbling at the rocks, jaws parted to taste the air more carefully, but there was no trace left of his sister’s presence.

Lionblaze pushed a big rock aside and halted. “I can see something,” he mewed.

“What? Is it…?”

“No.” Lionblaze’s voice was tense. “It’s just a tuft of fur…black fur.”

“Hollyleaf’s fur…” Jayfeather breathed out.

“Then she was hit by the rockfall.”

“But she’s not here.” Jayfeather struggled to keep his voice steady. “If these are the stones that struck her, they didn’t trap her.” He turned to strain his senses farther down the tunnel. But all he could hear was the whispering, too faint to make out, of the ancient cats. If they knew what had happened to Hollyleaf, they weren’t sharing it with him.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Lionblaze spoke close to Jayfeather’s ear. “Hollyleaf is alive!”