Sign Of The Moon

Ivypool let out a sigh. I should have known.

Before she could move, she heard approaching meows and the sound of several cats brushing through undergrowth. Ivypool waited as the first of them burst into the open.

“Did you see the move Thistleclaw taught me?” Breezepelt boasted. “Wait till I get the chance to try it out on one of those ThunderClan mange-pelts!”

“Thistleclaw’s great.” His Clanmate Sunstrike followed Breezepelt into the open, along with a gray-and-white apprentice Ivypool didn’t recognize. “I can’t believe he was ever a ThunderClan cat!”

The WindClan cats raced past Ivypool without noticing her and vanished into the distance. Of course, it’s dawn, she thought. They’re going home. She was about to emerge from the clump of bracken when she heard the paw steps of more cats approaching, and picked up ShadowClan scent.

Tigerheart!

Ivypool stayed in the shadows as Tigerheart skirted a nearby bramble thicket and padded toward her. Ratscar and Applefur were with him. As he drew level, Tigerheart hung back, letting his Clanmates go on without him. He waited, nostrils flaring, until they were out of earshot.

“I can smell you,” he meowed at last. “So there’s no point hiding.”

Ivypool sprang out of the gray bracken clump and faced the tabby warrior. “I wasn’t hiding!” she retorted. “I only just got here.”

“And why are you here now?” Tigerheart asked icily. “Do you think you can avoid me if you come here at a different time? But it’s too late for that,” he went on before Ivypool could reply. “I know the truth about you. What would Dovepaw say if she knew that you were prepared to kill an innocent cat?”

For a heartbeat Ivypool froze at the terrible memory of how Brokenstar had tried to make her kill Flametail, wandering in unexpectedly from StarClan, as proof of her loyalty.

Would I have done it, if Tigerheart hadn’t interrupted?

“I had no choice—” she began.

Tigerheart lashed his tail. “There is always a choice,” he hissed.

Anger pulsed through Ivypool like a fire through dry grass. “You mean, like you had a choice about using my sister to find out about ThunderClan’s store of herbs? No wonder she doesn’t want to see you anymore!”

“I didn’t use her.” Tigerheart’s amber eyes grew shadowed. “But I don’t expect you to believe me.” He spun around and stalked after his Clanmates.

Ivypool watched him until he disappeared around a bend in the path, then turned and padded in the opposite direction. She had covered only a few fox-lengths when she rounded a clump of thornbushes and almost crashed into Thistleclaw.

“How good to see you,” the gray-white warrior purred. “So glad that you decided to join us after all, Ivypaw.”

“My name’s Ivypool,” she retorted with a flash of pride. “I’m a warrior now.”

“Not here, you’re not,” Thistleclaw told her. “Not until I say so.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “And that won’t be for a long time if you can’t be bothered to turn up on time for practice.”

“I’ve been keeping my vigil.” Ivypool kept her head up, though inwardly her belly fluttered.

“Follow me” was all he replied. Leaving the path, Thistleclaw led her through thick undergrowth until they came to a clearing overhung by gnarled oaks. In the middle of the clearing was a heap of fallen trees, covered by slimy moss. Pale fungus grew on the trunks, seeming to give off its own sickly light.

“Now—” Thistleclaw began.

He was interrupted by the sound of a cat pelting through the bracken; Ivypool picked up WindClan scent a heartbeat before Antpelt burst into view.

“Sorry, Thistleclaw!” he panted. “Onestar sent me on a moonlight patrol. I’ve only just gone to sleep.”

A chill crept through Ivypool’s pelt. Just like her, Antpelt had been awake all night. It was daylight in the waking world, with the pale sun of leaf-bare angling through the trees. But darkness still covered the Dark Forest.

Is it always night here? she wondered.

“I’ve got a new task for you,” Thistleclaw meowed, ignoring Antpelt’s apology. “See these fallen trees? You’re going to attack them, and you”—he swung around to Ivypool, his mottled gray-and-white muzzle a mouse-length from her face—“are going to defend. Antpelt, you’ve won if you can force Ivypool up to the top of the heap.”

Obeying a flick of Thistleclaw’s tail, Ivypool bounded onto the lowest tree trunk. A tingle of anticipation ran through her from ears to tail-tip. She was proud of her battle skills. I’ll show this WindClan warrior what ThunderClan cats are made of!

Antpelt leaped at her, his claws sheathed as if this was a Clan training session. Ivypool reared up, balancing briefly on her hind paws while she batted him over the ears with her forepaws, her own claws sheathed, too. Antpelt took a pace back, then dived at her again, trying to unbalance her by crashing into her side. Ivypool sidestepped neatly and raked a soft paw over his shoulder.

“What? Are you kits?” Thistleclaw snarled. “I said fight!”