Erin Hunter - Sign of the Moon

“But—” Dovewing broke off in frustration, wishing that her sister would confide in her like she used to. Is she still unhappy with me because I kept my powers a secret from her? “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ivypool meowed with a hint of pride in her voice. “I can cope.”

Dovewing had to fight a twinge of jealousy. Does she think she’s better than me because she’s doing this for our Clan? “Ivypool, I just want—” she began.

“There you are, Dovewing!” Brambleclaw’s voice interrupted her; Dovewing turned to see the ThunderClan deputy peering through the grass that masked the entrance to the den. “Come on, we’re ready to leave.”

“Sorry,” Dovewing mewed. “See you later, Ivypool.” Scrambling out of the den, she raced across to the thorn barrier, where her Clanmates were waiting to file through the tunnel.

“Hi, Dovewing,” Hazeltail greeted her. “Is Ivypool okay?”

“She’s fine,” Dovewing replied.

She spotted Cinderheart heading her way, a worried expression on her face, and guessed that she wanted to ask about her former apprentice. But there was no time to talk; Cinderheart had to turn and plunge into the tunnel, and Dovewing followed her.

Firestar set a brisk pace through the forest. The moon cast shadows over their path, and frost glittered on every blade of grass and frond of bracken. Dovewing gasped when she broke out of the trees and stood at the top of the slope that led down to the lake. The moon traced a path of molten silver from one side to the other. Ripples washed softly against the pebbled shore.

Following her Clanmates, she raced along the water’s edge, splashing through the stream on the WindClan border and heading for the horseplace. She thought back to the shimmering covering of ice, broken by the jagged cracks that had swallowed Flametail. Before that, the lake had been a stretch of drying mud, dotted by dwindling pools where fish flapped and thirsty cats gathered for the last drops of water.

Nothing stays the same, Dovewing realized. Nothing except the prophecy, and that’s no clearer than it ever was.

“Hey, Dovewing!” Foxleap’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Race you to the tree-bridge!”

Thrusting aside her worries, Dovewing sprinted after him, catching up as they crossed the RiverClan scent markings. Panting, they drew to a halt at the end of the tree-bridge, ahead of all the rest of the Clan.

“You’re fast!” Foxleap panted admiringly.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Dovewing replied, giving him a flick on the shoulder with her tail.

The rest of the Clan reached them, and Firestar leaped onto the tree-bridge to lead the way over to the island. Sending out her senses, Dovewing realized that the three other Clans were already there. She picked up a strong feeling of uneasiness; her paws prickled with it as she padded along the fallen tree trunk and ran across the shore to push her way through the bushes that encircled the Great Oak.

In the clearing, the cats from the other Clans were milling around restlessly; Dovewing realized they were still in their Clan groups, rather than gossiping with other Clans as they usually did at Gatherings. When ThunderClan appeared, she felt a wave of hostility from the ShadowClan cats. One or two of them stretched out their necks to let out furious hisses, or pointedly turned their backs.

Dovewing couldn’t help looking for Tigerheart, and spotted him in the shade of a holly bush. His amber gaze met hers, and at once she looked away, heat washing through her pelt. She could never forgive the tabby tom for using her to get at Jayfeather’s supply of herbs. He turned me into a spy for ShadowClan!

But Dovewing couldn’t forget the time she and Tigerheart had spent together, playing in the old Twoleg nest at the edge of ShadowClan’s territory. Their moonlight meetings had been more important to her than anything else.

“Dovewing?” She turned at the soft touch of a tail-tip on her shoulder, and turned to see Bumblestripe. “Don’t let those ShadowClan cats upset you,” the young tom went on. “They’re all fox-hearts!”

Dovewing murmured agreement. When Bumblestripe angled his ears toward their own Clanmates, she let him lead her into their midst, though she couldn’t resist a last glance back at Tigerheart. He was deep in conversation with a RiverClan cat she hadn’t seen before.

Probably another Dark Forest warrior, she guessed with a shudder. How could I ever have trusted Tigerheart? He is Tigerstar’s kin, after all. And every cat knows how evil Tigerstar was!

Then guilt gusted over her as she remembered that Brambleclaw was Tigerstar’s kin, too. And Brambleclaw isn’t evil! He’s ThunderClan’s loyal deputy!

By now all four leaders had taken their places in the Great Oak. Firestar was balancing in the fork of a branch, with Mistystar crouched on the branch below. Onestar sat on a higher branch, his tail hanging down. At first Dovewing couldn’t see Blackstar at all, until she finally spotted him in a clump of dead oak leaves that clung to the bough, casting dappled shadows on his white pelt; his eyes gleamed, glaring down into the clearing.

Dovewing sat beside Bumblestripe, shivering in the chill, damp air, as Onestar called the Gathering to order.

“Prey is running well in spite of the cold weather,” he reported. “And Whiskernose has been made a warrior.”

“Whiskernose! Whiskernose!” WindClan welcomed the young tom, who ducked his head, looking pleased and embarrassed.

Dovewing joined in, though she noticed that not many cats from other Clans were doing the same. Gatherings should be a time for the Clans to be at peace with one another. What is happening to us?

Onestar sat down again, his gaze raking across the cats as if he was asking himself the same question. Blackstar emerged from his clump of leaves. He surveyed the cats below him in silence before he spoke. “Our medicine cat Littlecloud had a brief attack of whitecough,” he announced. “But he is now as strong as ever, and so is ShadowClan.” He closed his jaws with a snap and retreated.

“Huh—brief attack of whitecough!” Dovewing muttered. “Littlecloud was dying, and all ThunderClan knows it. Would it have hurt too much for Blackstar to thank us?”

Bumblestripe blinked at her. “That’s ShadowClan for you.”

Mistystar rose to her paws. “RiverClan is happy to see the ice gone from the lake,” she meowed. “It’s good to catch fish again. And our Clan has welcomed two new warriors this past moon: Rushtail and Troutstream.”

“Rushtail! Troutstream!” More cats from the other Clans joined in this time, as if they were beginning to relax. Or perhaps, Dovewing reflected as she joined her yowls to theirs, Mistystar’s confident and friendly manner had begun to win them over. The RiverClan leader had always been willing to work with other Clans.

“Also,” Mistystar went on when the noise had died down, “a badger was seen in our territory, but Reedwhisker tracked it with Robinwing and Petalfur, until it went away.”

“Which way?” Ashfoot, the WindClan deputy, called out. “Do we need to watch out for it?”

“I don’t think so,” Mistystar replied. “It went out past the horseplace, heading for the hills. If I’d thought there was danger,” she added politely, “I would have sent a message.”

Mistystar finished her report with a nod to Firestar. Dovewing admired his well-muscled body and sleek flame-colored pelt as he stood on the branch. “ThunderClan has good news, too,” he meowed. “A few sunrises ago I named two new warriors: Dovewing and Ivypool.”

Dovewing felt warm with pride as the Clans called out her name and her sister’s. I wish Ivypool were here to share this.