Rising Moon

Jedi Goat

Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors.

Author's Note: Now comes the main character, Moonkit!

Chapter 1

"Firestar!" Brambleclaw raced rapidly across the clearing, scrambling up the rocky ledge to his leader's den. His shoulder whined in pain, but the clan was the ThunderClan deputy's first priority.

"I'm awake." The ginger tom stepped out of the darkness, eyes sharp. Sandstorm, his mate, padded out behind him.

Brambleclaw quickly explained the events of the battle as he, Sandstorm and Firestar made their way down to the returning warriors. Other cats were slipping out of their dens to see what was going on. Leafpool, the medicine cat, was already on the scene, Brambleclaw noted with satisfaction. She made her rounds around the cats, prodding them and checking for injuries.

Firestar shook his head ruefully. "Where is ShadowClan's honor?" He cast a mournful look over the strong cats who had gone out to show the other clan they couldn't take whatever territory they wanted. Brambleclaw had a gash in his shoulder, still bleeding slightly; Brackenfur had claw marks set into his foreleg; Rainwhisker and Squirrelflight had suffered various cuts and bruises; Whitedove's ear was nicked, and a thin slice down her side had her beautiful white coat matted with blood. And Spiderleg…

Leafpool laid her head on Spiderleg's chest, listening. Blood still pooled out from the deep gouge in his neck, even though the tom lay still. Leafpool looked up and shook her head sadly.

Brambleclaw knew, even before her next words, that the young warrior was gone.

"He's dead," Leafpool sighed. She glanced up at Firestar and Brambleclaw. "All the others only have minor injuries." Then her gaze locked on Brambleclaw's shoulder.

"You'll need some cobwebs," she instructed. "Could you get some from my den? I'll need some for everyone, I think."

Brambleclaw nodded and limped off to Leafpool's den.

Firestar turned to Sandstorm. "Find some uninjured cats and take out a hunting patrol. Keep an eye out for ShadowClan."

Sandstorm nodded and went to speak with Thornclaw and his apprentice, Mousepaw.

At that moment a yowl arose from the entrance to the warriors' den and Ferncloud raced across the camp.

"Spiderleg! No!" She collapsed next to her son and pushed her nose into his dusky, bloodstained fur. Soft sobbing could be heard.

Someone had alerted Dustpelt; he appeared at his mate's side a moment later. Curling his tail around her comfortingly, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Ferncloud."

Firestar and Leafpool drifted off to other duties, giving the mourning cats some space. Ferncloud has already lost many of her litter; this must be painful for her, Leafpool thought, glancing over at Spiderleg's parents and Whitedove grouped around the still body. Brambleclaw soon returned and she distracted herself with healing the other cats' wounds.

Meanwhile, Sandstorm, Mousepaw and Thornclaw headed out into the forest. The ginger she-cat raised her head, tasting the air for the scent of prey. She flicked her tail at her clanmates.

"I'm going up by the abandoned Twoleg nest," she announced. "We'll return to camp at sunhigh."

The other two cats nodded, and Sandstorm slipped off into the forest.

-

Crouched in the undergrowth, eyes on a mouse scuffling with a seed nearby, Sandstorm waited. Her claws extended and caressed the ground gingerly. Ready…and…

The bushes rustled, and the mouse skittered away in fear. With a growl Sandstorm pounced, the little creature disappearing into the grass a mouse-length in front of her. Shaking her head, the she-cat turned around to reprimand the careless cat that had disturbed her hunt…

And froze.

"Mommy?" a small black cat squeaked, eyes tightly shut. She couldn't have been more than a day old. The little scruff padded in a wavering, confused circle. "Mommy?"

Sandstorm felt her heart lurch. Great StarClan! Who would leave such a helpless kit out in the cold? she demanded angrily. She had children of her own, and she knew how harsh leaf-bare was, especially to the young kits.

She examined the kit cautiously, taking in her scent. It definitely wasn't from any of the clans, a faint mix of kittypet and some scent she couldn't recall. Bending down so her face was level with the kit's, she asked, "And where might you be from, little one?"

"Mommy?" came the hopeful reply. Tiny black ears pointed toward her, and a minuscule, pink running nose snuffled.

Sandstorm purred comfortingly, drawing the kit close to her flank. She was shocked at how cold she was. How long was she out here?

"I'm not your mother," she explained, "but I will find her."

Standing, Sandstorm sniffed the air. The kit's winding trail went through the bushes, father up by the abandoned Twolegplace. She picked up the tiny body and followed the scent trail, ignoring the kit's soft squeals of protest.

The scent grew stronger as she went on, congregated around a clump of bracken; Sandstorm felt a flicker of confusion. Is there more than one kit?

Sandstorm paused, setting down the kit to get a better whiff. There was a scent she had already smelled today, something she had been afraid of, deep down. Apprehension pricking at her paws, she forced herself to step through the bracken. The kit was at her heels, pawing at her tail.

A fear-scent was strong here. And from the clearing came the strong, unmistakable reek of death.

Sandstorm braced herself, but she still felt the shock rock her backward as she saw a gray cat lying in the clearing, dead.

Sandstorm held the kit back with her tail, stepping closer. Now she could see another kit, probably stillborn, curled up next to its mother's side. Ah. That's where this kit came from. She's lucky to have survived this long.

The bracken parted and another kit stumbled into the clearing, this one as gray as her mother was. "Moommmy!" wailed the kit pitifully. She paused, took a rasping breath, and coughed.

Sandstorm's blood froze. Whitecough? Or greencough? Either way, I can't bring it in to the camp. Leaf-bare has enough difficulties without those wretched diseases.

"Mommy?" both kits cried, heads turning toward her. They can scent me! Sandstorm realized guiltily. Oh, I can't leave them now…

"All right, all right," she sighed, sweeping her tail around the two frozen kits. "Come with me. I'll bring you home."

-

Mousepaw bounded into camp ahead of the two warriors. "Leafpool!" he called urgently. Spotting the ThunderClan leader sitting with Brambleclaw, he added, "You'd better come, too, Firestar."

Leafpool emerged from her den just as Thornclaw and Sandstorm approached her. Her eyes widened when she saw the two small bundles they held in their jaws.

"Oh, my…you'd better come inside." She turned and whisked away.

A few moments later Leafpool, Firestar, Sandstorm and Thornclaw were settled inside her den, and Sandstorm began to explain as Leafpool examined the kits.

"…So I brought them here," Sandstorm finished. She exchanged a glance with Firestar. "The clan could use the extra warriors."

At that moment, the gray kit gave a violent cough.

"If they survive, that is," commented Leafpool grimly, fetching a small green herb from her stash and pushing it in front of the kit. The small gray kit sniffed cautiously before eating, and then whimpered, "It tastes bad!"

Leafpool shushed her, and then rolled over a juniper berry. Carefully splitting it with a claw, she urged the gray kit to eat half of it, and passed the other half to the black kit. Soon both kits were fast asleep, curled up together.

Firestar pointed out, "And leaf-bare is tough on the clan already, without extra kits to look after."

"But Sorreltail already lost Poppykit to sickness," Thornclaw interjected. He indicated a kit lying in a bed of moss nearby with his tail. "And Cinderkit has whitecough. She could take the new kits."

Firestar was nodding reluctantly. He looked at the medicine cat. "What do you think, Leafpool?"

She frowned, considering. "Well, we can't just abandon them now. And Thornclaw's right; we can take care of them. But there's always the threat of sickness. I'll keep them here a few days, just in case."

Firestar agreed. "I trust your judgment, Leafpool." He looked down at the kits. "The newest members of ThunderClan will need names. Sandstorm, you found them. What should we call them?"

Sandstorm thought, looking at the kits with as much warmth as if they were her own. "Dawnkit," she decided for the dusty-gray kit. Then for the black one, she added, "And Moonkit."

"May StarClan watch over them," Thornclaw finished ceremoniously.

To be continued...

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