Erin Hunter - Sign of the Moon

“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!

“Please,” Jayfeather begged. “Let me stay here with Half Moon. This is my only chance to live like my Clanmates, to raise kits and grow old with a mate.”